Over My Dead Body

Chapter 21

‘So which European city have you been to this time, caveman?’ asked Beth, as she poured William a second cup of black coffee.

‘What makes you think I even left London?’

‘I needed to borrow a couple of pounds yesterday, only to find your wallet was stuffed with pesetas.’

‘Define the meaning of the word “borrow”.’

‘The full amount will be paid back at some time in the future.’

‘How long in the future?’ asked William, as he spread some marmalade on his toast.

‘During my lifetime,’ she said, giving him a kiss on the forehead. ‘Stop changing the subject and tell me where you went after you’d visited Scotland.’

‘What makes you think I was in Scotland?’

‘Along with a thousand-peseta note, I also found a one-way ticket to Aberdeen, and I don’t think the peseta is the Scottish national currency yet.’

‘You should have got a bit more than a couple of pounds for a thousand pesetas.’

‘Stop changing the subject,’ repeated Beth. ‘I’ve already worked out you must have gone to Scotland to see Lord McLaren, or to be more accurate his Caravaggio. The only reason you’d have done that was in the hope Miles Faulkner would be there, and I suspect all you got for your trouble was his representative on earth.’

William buttered another piece of toast.

‘It doesn’t matter if you don’t want to tell me,’ said Beth, ‘because I’m having lunch with Christina, and I’m sure she’ll reveal all.’

William felt guilty at the thought that Beth was about to find out that the Frans Hals Christina had promised to loan to the Fitzmolean would not be hanging in their autumn exhibition, and he was to blame. ‘Have to get moving,’ he said, after downing his coffee, ‘or I’ll be late for the commander’s meeting.’

‘Do you have any pesetas left over?’ asked Beth, following another kiss.

‘My father warned me about women like you,’ he said, as he handed her a five-pound note.

‘I adore your father,’ said Beth.

The commander took his place at the top of the table, pleased to see that every member of the team was present. He looked to his right and said, ‘So now he knows that we know.’

‘Yes, sir,’ said William. ‘Which means we don’t have a lot of time to come up with a plan if we’re going to trap him before he disappears again.’

‘We?’ said The Hawk.

‘Ross has agreed to postpone his departure for a month, to make sure Faulkner doesn’t get away a third time.’

‘Is there nothing you won’t do to go undercover again, DI Hogan?’ asked The Hawk, switching his attention to the other side of the table.

‘It would seem not,’ said William, before Ross could reply. ‘The Spanish police couldn’t have been more cooperative. However, Lieutenant Sanchez thinks it would help if you had a word with your opposite number in Barcelona.’

‘I’ll call him later this morning,’ said The Hawk. ‘Just be sure to keep me fully informed on what you two are up to, and I mean fully.’

‘Yes, sir,’ said William, well aware that wouldn’t be possible unless Ross kept him fully informed of what he was up to.

‘What have the rest of you been doing while DCI Warwick and DI Hogan have been swanning around Europe at the taxpayers’ expense? Let’s begin with you, DC Pankhurst.’

‘Darren Carter,’ began Rebecca, ‘is still working as a doorman at the Eve Club, and other than smoking the occasional joint in a back alley during his breaks, there’s not much I can pin on him. Although loose talk after a couple of pints suggests he still thinks he’s got away with it.’

‘What about the owner of the club, who’s equally guilty?’ asked The Hawk.

‘He’s just made an application to extend his liquor licence until two a.m.’

‘Have a word with the local magistrate and make sure it’s thrown out. If he asks why, get him to give me a call.’

‘Will do,’ said Rebecca, making a note.

‘Let me make it clear, Detective Constable,’ continued The Hawk, his gaze still concentrated on Rebecca. ‘I won’t be satisfied until that club is closed down and both those villains are locked up.’

‘Yes, sir,’ Rebecca repeated, but she didn’t make a note this time.

‘Is your news any better, DS Adaja?’

‘Yes and no, sir,’ said Paul. ‘Sleeman’s still lending money at extortionate rates, while threatening to impose an unwritten default clause for anyone who doesn’t pay up on time. But there’s not a lot I can do about it.’

‘Why not?’ demanded William.

‘Every victim I’ve interviewed so far has either clammed up completely, or denied ever having heard of Sleeman. Even the one who’d recently lost a finger.’

‘They’re obviously more frightened of Sleeman than they are of us,’ said Ross.

‘And who can blame them,’ said William.

‘Are you any nearer to tracking down any of the three who went missing?’

‘No, sir. Still no sign of any of them. But that doesn’t stop Sleeman’s thugs turning up on their wives’ doorsteps when the next payment is due, and extracting the widow’s mite.’

‘Perhaps one of those widows might become more cooperative in the future,’ suggested The Hawk.

‘I wouldn’t be too optimistic about that, sir. Whenever I mentioned the name Sleeman, they all claimed they’d never heard of him.’

‘Then our best hope is to catch him before the next victim disappears.’

‘Easier said than done, sir. The next victim could be any one of a dozen people,’ said Paul, looking down at a long list of names, ‘and I’ve only got three Detective Constables to assist me, and one of them has only recently joined the force.’

‘Don’t give me the “I’m understaffed” excuse,’ said the commander. ‘I want to see Sleeman and his thugs sharing a cell for Christmas.’

Paul kept his head down.

‘You’re next, Jackie. How’s your would-be ladykiller getting on? Has the woman he’s planning to con finally seen the light?’

‘Unfortunately not, sir. She became Mrs Pugh last week at a not-very-well-attended ceremony at the Chelsea Town Hall register office. The next morning, they flew off to Cape Town for their honeymoon. Don’t be surprised if a grieving, even wealthier widower returns to England in a few weeks’ time not wearing black.’

‘I presume you’ve informed your opposite number in Cape Town and asked them to keep a close eye on Pugh.’

‘It took a week just to find out who my opposite number was,’ said Jackie. ‘And when I finally did, he told me he already has forty-nine unsolved murders in his in-tray, so he didn’t have much time to worry about one that just might happen at some time in the future. He said he’d call me the moment he heard anything. I haven’t heard from him since.’

‘Not exactly promising,’ said William.

‘Perhaps you should fly down to Cape Town and have a quiet word with Mrs Pugh,’ suggested Ross, ‘and warn her that it might turn out to be a very short honeymoon, and she shouldn’t be looking forward to living happily ever after.’

‘If Jackie were to do that,’ said William, ‘Pugh would be certain to sue the Met, and he’d make a killing we wouldn’t be able to charge him with.’

‘Very droll, Chief Inspector,’ said The Hawk. ‘In any case, we don’t have the resources to allow Jackie to swan off to Cape Town.’

‘So, what should I do?’ asked Jackie.

‘Just wait for the time being. If they both return to England, you can reopen the file.’

‘And if they don’t?’

‘We’ll find you another file,’ said William.

‘Let’s finally turn our attention to Ron Abbott and Terry Roach,’ said the commander. ‘Any news on that front, Ross?’

‘Not much that you don’t know already, sir. The two families are still at each other’s throats. I fear it can’t be long before it breaks out into open warfare.’

‘We can’t allow that to happen,’ said The Hawk. ‘Not least because it will give the press another opportunity to write about no-go areas and not enough bobbies on the beat. William, as the other three cases seem to be in limbo, and DI Hogan will soon be leaving us, I want you to take over responsibility for Abbott and Roach.’

‘At the expense of Operation Masterpiece?’ asked William. ‘Because Ross and I are confident we’ve come up with a plan to bring Faulkner back to England so he can complete his ten-year sentence.’

‘Plus whatever the court adds on following his escape,’ threw in Ross.

‘We’re not bounty hunters,’ said The Hawk. ‘I’ll need to be convinced you have a better than fifty-fifty chance of success before I would even consider sanctioning such an operation.’

‘I have an appointment this afternoon with the company that constructed the metal door in Faulkner’s study,’ said Ross. ‘That might well change the odds.’

‘If they let you know how to open that door,’ said The Hawk, ‘I’ll stand you a pint.’

‘But you only gave me a half after our Trojan Horse triumph,’ Paul reminded him.

‘More than you deserved,’ said William, ‘considering you spent most of the evening in A&E with a sprained ankle.’

The rest of the team began to bang on the table with the palms of their hands, while Paul looked suitably chastened. He was rescued by the commander’s secretary rushing into the room.

‘A woman has just been murdered in South Kensington,’ she said. ‘They’re asking for the Yard’s assistance.’

‘Tell them to get one of the local murder teams to handle the case, Angela,’ said the commander. ‘Don’t they realize we have enough problems of our own?’

‘Normally they would, the officer in charge assured me,’ said Angela, ‘but the woman was found with a serrated kitchen knife sticking out of her throat.’

‘Roach,’ said William and Hogan simultaneously, as they both leapt out of their seats.

‘Tell them we’re on our way,’ said William. ‘Jackie, make sure there’s a squad car waiting for us outside the front door, and ask the duty officer to contact me on my radio, so he can brief me before I get there.’

William and Ross began running towards the door, but William suddenly stopped, turned back and said, ‘Paul, put out an all-points alert for Terry Roach, with a warning that he’ll be armed and dangerous. He can’t be far from the scene, but in this particular case, it won’t be the first forty-eight hours that are crucial, but the first forty-eight minutes. If we don’t arrest him before he gets back to the East End, he’ll have a cast-iron alibi along with a dozen witnesses who’ll swear blind he hasn’t set foot outside Whitechapel all day.’

Paul grabbed the nearest phone as William ran out of the room and into the corridor. Ross was already out of sight. He took the stairs down to the ground floor two at a time, not wanting to rely on the vagaries of the lift. By the time he reached the lobby, Danny was pulling up outside the front door.

William pushed his way through the swing doors, as Ross jumped into the back of the car, leaving the door open. William hadn’t even closed it before Danny accelerated away.

They shot out of the Yard, siren blaring. Danny drove straight through a red light on the corner of Victoria Street, causing several vehicles to throw on their brakes, followed by irate horns blaring.

‘Do we have the exact location?’ William asked, clinging to the seat in front of him.

‘Prince Albert Crescent,’ said Danny, as he sped past the Palace Theatre in the direction of Hyde Park Corner. Several vehicles eased across to their right and left, allowing the car in their rear-view mirror to continue on its journey uninterrupted.

William’s first thought was that the Fitzmolean was on Prince Albert Crescent. He tried to dismiss the idea from his mind. The radio buzzed, and William grabbed it. ‘Chief Inspector Warwick,’ he said.

‘Inspector Preston, sir. I’m the duty officer at West End Central. DS Roycroft has just called to say you wanted to be briefed immediately.’

‘Correct,’ said William, not wasting a word.

‘A young woman has had her throat slit in Prince Albert Crescent,’ said Preston. ‘It looks to me as if it was premeditated, and the killer knew his victim.’

‘Any idea of her identity?’

‘No, sir. A passer-by saw a car draw up by her side and a heavily built man wearing a stocking mask jumped out and slashed her across the face several times before finally slitting her throat. He then got back into the car which took off at high speed. It was all over in a matter of seconds.’

‘Did anyone get the vehicle reg?’

‘DS Adaja asked me the same question, but all we know is that the witness was pretty sure it was a black BMW.’

‘Can you give me a description of the woman?’

‘That’s not easy, sir. She’s been badly disfigured.’

‘Skin colour, age?’

‘Caucasian, I’d guess early thirties.’

William could hear his heart thumping.

‘Weapon?’ asked William, as Danny continued to weave his way in and out of the traffic.

‘A small, thin knife with a serrated edge. He left it sticking out of her throat. It was almost as if he wanted us to know who’d done it.’

‘He did,’ said William, as he picked up the sound of another siren in the distance. ‘Don’t allow the medics anywhere near the body before I get there.’

‘Understood, sir,’ he said.

As Danny shot past Harrods, pedestrians turned to stare, and as they got nearer, William offered up a silent prayer, trying to convince himself he was overreacting. Eventually, Danny touched the brakes lightly and swung left into Prince Albert Crescent, the speedometer still touching fifty. They couldn’t miss the large police presence a couple of hundred yards ahead of them. A crowd of onlookers were gawping from the pavement on the opposite side of the road.

Danny screeched to a halt just feet away from the blue and white tape that surrounded the crime scene.

William was the first out of the car. He ducked under the tape and ran towards the lifeless body sprawled in a pool of blood on the pavement. As he approached it, he fell to his knees and screamed, ‘No!’

Ross appeared by his side a moment later. When he saw who it was, he was violently sick.

Inspector Preston was surprised that two such experienced officers had reacted as if it were their first murder case.

‘Do you know who she is?’ he asked tentatively.

‘Yes,’ he replied, cradling his wife gently in his arms. ‘And I’ll kill him.’