Blood Storm

29

They were driving in the dark again, through the same deserted streets. Paula had expected more traffic and she found it puzzling. She looked at Tweed.

'What time is it?'

'About 2 a.m.'

'It can't be that late.'

'It is. You've been working nonstop. So have I. Time has passed without our noticing it. I'm glad I persuaded Monica to leave early just for once.'

'Maybe that old lady, the bin scrounger Annie Higgins, will be about. She could have seen something.'

'No sign of her,' Tweed replied as he parked in the main street. He thought it unwise to drive down the side street where Marina had lived.

'Why are we getting out here?' Paula asked.

'Because we were here last night.'

They walked rapidly down the murky street, tall terraced buildings on both sides, a single street lamp outside the block where Marina lived. Had lived.

'Was it like the Viola killing?' Paula asked.

'According to Saafeld. We'll know when we get inside.'

A police tape was strung across the entrance, each end tied to a railing. Outside it stood a uniformed policeman, watching them coming. He held up a hand. Tweed and Paula held up their identity folders, the policeman lifted the tape.

'Third floor,' he said.

'Thank you.' Tweed just stopped himself saying, 'We know.'

He went inside, started climbing the first flight very slowly. His head was looking down. Paula became irked. At this pace they would never get there.

'Why are we crawling?' she wanted to know.

'It was raining last night. Tonight too. So an intruder would have left footprints on these treads. You look, too.'

'I should have thought of that myself.'

'Did you notice,' he asked as he continued his slow climb, 'that on the ground floor in the entrance hall there was an alcove without a window?'

'Yes, I did notice that.'

'It could have been vital to the killer. Wait until we've asked Saafeld a few questions.'

They continued their snail-like climb until they were close to the third floor. Tweed had found no trace of footprints and he remarked on this fact to Paula.

'It could be significant. Very.'

'In what way?'

'Wait until we've seen Saafeld. I've devoted a lot of thought to the first crime. Imagining myself as the killer, how I'd go about it. Quiet now…'

Another police tape across the entrance to Marina's flat, with a uniformed policeman guarding it. They both showed their folders. The policeman did not lift the tape so Tweed lifted it himself. He came face to face with Saafeld, who frowned when he saw Paula. She spoke up firmly.

'I saw the other one. I've been inside your place. I'm getting used to it.'

'I thought I was.' Saafeld smiled. 'All right. Follow me. Bedroom down the corridor.' He tapped a closed door. Tn there the living room. Now. Here we are.'

He led the way through an open door. The bedroom was large. Paula didn't like the furniture. Too suggestive of what it was often used for. A very large bed had curtains hanging from brass rails. A canopy covered it just below the ceiling. There was a huge long, wide sofa piled up with cushions, and a large dressing table with three tall mirrors swivelled at a peculiar angle so they could be seen from the bed. The ceiling above the sofa was covered with a large mirror.

It was what lay on the bed which made her compress her lips. As with Viola, Marina's severed head was placed a few inches above her butchered neck. Again, the arms had been severed just below the elbows, the legs detached below the knees. Everything was placed to make Marina look like a huge doll torn to pieces.

Tweed turned to Chief Inspector Hammer who had joined the group – himself, Paula and Saafeld. Hammer seemed not in the least disturbed by the macabre arrangement.

'Chief Inspector,' Tweed said quietly, 'would you mind leaving us alone.'

'What for?' Hammer demanded belligerently.

'Because I have asked you to.'

'I'll go and check the living room.'

'I suggest, Chief Inspector, that you go downstairs and check the street carefully. The murderer might have dropped something.'

'If you insist.'

With a furious expression, Hammer left. They heard him clumping quickly down the stairs. Tweed closed the door, turned to Saafeld.

'From the chalk lines I see on the other side of the bed I assume the murderer used the same technique as with Viola.'

'I think so. He threw her naked body on the floor, gave the back of her head a hard bang to disable her. Then he raped her – or she did,' he added glancing at Paula. 'No semen we could ever use for DNA, and she was interfered with using a device sometimes employed by women.'

'You think she was alive when he raped her?' Paula asked.

'I think it's likely she was.' He produced a transparent evidence envelope from his bag, held it up. 'This is the gag that was across her mouth when I arrived. But in that case what could be the motive?'

'Jealousy,' Paula replied.

'You could be right.' He put the evidence envelope back in his bag. 'Again he severed the arteries but this time the jet of blood released hit the mirrors, not the window.'

Paula looked again at what she'd noticed earlier. Each of the mirrors was drenched in blood. Saafeld saw where she was looking.

'Samples of the blood have already been taken. I doubt they will help. It will all be Marina's, so no DNA of the murderer.'

'What puzzles me,' said Tweed, although he thought he knew the answer, 'is that the murderer's clothes must have been soaked in blood. He couldn't just walk out in that state.'

'I suspect,' Saafeld said quietly, 'that as before he wore a surgeon's outfit. White coat, cap, gloves, and a face mask, with large glasses to protect his eyes. He later took them all off, stuffed them into a bag, maybe a large briefcase, and walked out wearing a business suit. As soon as he could he'd burn the lot. What he did with the meat cleaver – that was the murder weapon, I believe, in both cases – I don't know.'

'Suggests someone involved with the medical profession?' Tweed enquired.

'Not necessarily. That's the sort of equipment you can buy at any hospital-supply outlet. He probably visited several buying one thing here, another thing somewhere else.'

'But he couldn't walk in on his victim dressed like that,' Paula objected.

'He probably arrived downstairs,' Tweed suggested, 'then called up to each victim, "Be up to see you in a minute." Then he'd change into his killing gear downstairs before he came up.'

'That's how I see it,' Saafeld agreed.

'And again no sign of forced entry?' Tweed enquired.

'None at all. Which means the victim knew her murderer

– was expecting him,' Saafeld emphasized.

'So he'd used the speakphone to gain entry,' Paula remarked. 'Then he probably changed into his killing gear

– to borrow your phrase, Professor – in the alcove just inside the front door. We ought to search that thoroughly.'

'It's been done,' Saafeld told her. 'I sent Hammer down with a policeman he called an expert searcher. Firkins, I think was his name. They found nothing.'

'Hammer might miss something,' Tweed observed. 'Firkins wouldn't. I know him and he's very good.'

'They must have been related,' Saafeld speculated. 'The same name, and oddly enough very similar in appearance.'

'They were twin sisters,' Paula informed him. 'We only learned that recently.' She made herself stare at the head again. Almost a replica of Viola but even in death the face was harder.

'Roughly what time did this happen?' Tweed asked.

'Rigor mortis hasn't set in yet. Just an educated guess but somewhere between midnight and 2 a.m. Subject to more accuracy after my post-mortem. This really worries me,' Saafeld said, turning to Tweed, who had never heard him say anything like this before.

'Why?'

'I told you about blood storm. The creature committing these crimes is likely to get the urge to strike again soon now. You see, Viola was murdered about ten days ago. The intervals between his overwhelming desire to kill again will lessen considerably. His next urge to kill and mutilate could be as little as three or four days from now. It's an accelerating process.'

'Who found her?' Tweed wondered.

'A Mrs Gaskin, a real nosey-parker who came in late, lives on the fourth floor. The TV was on full blast.'

'Which would drown Marina's screams as he applied the gag. He probably turned the volume up.'

'Exactly.' Saafeld turned to Tweed. 'Paula catches on very quickly. Well, this woman heard the TV going full blast when she reached the third floor. The door to Marina's flat was open, so she came in to protest that she couldn't sleep. Walked straight in here. She gabbles. Her son is a clerk at Scotland Yard, so she called in, spoke by chance to Chief Inspector Hammer. He had the sense to call me before he rushed over.'

'What happened to this woman?' Paula asked.

'She was still here when I arrived. In the living room. She was having an attack of hysteria, gabbling nonstop. I phoned a private hospital, told them to put her in a private room with a tough nurse. Ambulance arrived quickly, took her away. I thought you'd want to decide the timing when the news is released. This card gives you the hospital's address.'

'Thank you. And now I think we'd better go.'

'I agree. All the police technicians have been and gone. I'm waiting for an ambulance with a special stretcher. I do need this poor woman to be taken to my place with exactly the same arrangement she is in now.'

'Arrangement,' Paula repeated on their way down the three flights. 'Horrible word.'

They reached the ground floor and Paula asked Tweed to wait a moment. Using latex gloves and a powerful torch she went inside the alcove. Tweed stood waiting, hoping she'd hurry up. It was a waste of time.

When Paula emerged after only minutes she was holding something in her gloved hand. She showed it to Tweed. It was a locket. She shone her torch on it as she opened it. On each side was a miniature photo of a woman. Viola on the left, Marina on the right.

'I found it at the entrance to a mousehole, half inside. The murderer must have dropped it when he was changing his gear back to what he was wearing underneath.'

'I wonder how he got hold of that?'

'He stole it. As a trophy. Of his exploits. The bastard.'

They were driving back to Paula's flat in silence. Tweed eventually spoke what was on his mind.

'So, according to Saafeld we may have only three or four days to identify the murderer before another woman is found slaughtered. We'd better get a move on.'