Private London

Chapter 78

‘Shit!’

DI Kirsty Webb kicked the tyre of her car. But it did little to ease her frustration.

She had thought she’d made a breakthrough in the case but now that she had arrived in Chesham it seemed extremely probable that she was looking at another dead end.

Literally.

The house she had come to had had a sizeable chunk blown out of it. Debris strewn all around. The windows smashed in the small station across the road from it.

She checked the address on the open page of her notebook as she walked up to the Police – Do Not Cross line. No mistake about it. It was the last known address of Adriana Kisslinger.

She ducked under the tape and flashed a quick, humourless smile to the young uniformed officer who approached her. ‘It’s okay,’ she said, flashing her warrant card. ‘DI Webb. So, what have we got?’

‘There’s been an accident.’

He would have said more but DI James appeared in the doorway. ‘Inspector Webb,’ she said, a little puzzled to see her.

‘Natalie.’

‘Have there been some developments? On the Colin Harris case? Is that why you’re here?’

‘It looks that way,’ said Kirsty.

‘What do you mean?’

‘Whatever this was… I’m guessing it wasn’t an accident,’ Kirsty gestured at the house.

‘We were working on the assumption that it was.’

DI Natalie James led Kirsty through the house into a kitchen, the far wall of which was missing. A third of the ceiling was gone, with beams and plaster hanging down and debris strewn across the floor.

Kirsty looked up a little suspiciously. ‘Is it safe?’

The Buckinghamshire DI smiled reassuringly. ‘Come through.’

Kirsty followed her through what would have been a back door to the garden patio off the kitchen. A brick wall had been blown into the next-door neighbour’s garden, with metal wreckage strewn around both. A number of white-suited SOCO officers were working the garden.

‘They’re mainly looking for the rest of his body,’ she explained.

‘Who was it?’

‘Local optician. Peter Chappel. Wasn’t he who you were here to see?’ she asked, puzzled.

Kirsty shook her head. ‘This was the last address I could find for my Jane Doe discovered on Friday night.’

‘With the finger missing?’

‘Exactly.’

‘And you know who she is now?’

‘A tip-off from a collar. Information to barter. Vice Squad alerted us. Her name is Adriana Kisslinger. Romanian. Busted back home for prostitution.’

‘And here?’

‘Working as a contract nurse. Dropped off the radar some months back. She was working at Stoke Mandeville.’

‘So Serious Crimes aren’t going away any time soon.’

‘They won’t when they find this out, no.’

‘You haven’t told them?’

‘I didn’t know, did I? Anonymous tips have to be checked out. I was just following up an old address on a possible ident. You know how it works. So what happened here, exactly?’

‘Peter Chappel had a barbecue planned for this afternoon. Came home from his shop after sorting out some paperwork. Put the wine to chill in the fridge and came out here to get the grill going.’

‘It was a gas barbecue?’

‘Range-style, three-burner. Propane gas cylinder in the metal oven. He turned the dial, pushed the ignite button. And… Boom!’

‘There was a leak?’

‘Looks that way. Like I said, we thought it was accidental.’

‘Think again,’ said Kirsty Webb.