âI don't want to be. I just don't want to be left behind â¦' She tried for a smile. âNot even with Gus.'
Â
Â
Stella sat in the car, with Gus on her lap, while Coffin went behind the screened off murder site in company with Phoebe.
They were in a narrow road in Spinnergate, not far from the police HQ. It was not one of the most attractive roads in Spinnergate but it was going up in the world, with some of the old shops putting on new faces and selling pictures and books instead of herrings and pork chops. Spinnergate, richer than it had been once, now bought its food in large supermarkets, or got on the train and went to Harrods or Fortnum and Masons. Coffin saw that one shop was renting hats, which surprised him and made him realise what a sheltered life he led, they were beautiful hats too. Beyond was an area hidden behind a white tentlike affair inside which, he knew, was the body. A uniformed constable stood on guard. At the kerb he recognised the pathologist's car.
âGot there before me,' he thought with some guilt. On the other hand he knew that several of the investigating officers whom he had chosen were there already.
âYou brought Stella with you,' said Phoebe, who looked untidy, tired and harassed.
âShe didn't want to be left behind.'
âCan't blame her. You won't like what you are about to see,' said Phoebe as she led him forward. âThe body was found about an hour and a half ago by a boy delivering papers.'
âYou got this set up quickly.' She was efficient, was Phoebe, one of the reasons for her promotion. She would probably go higher, too.
Phoebe shrugged. âHad to. We mind about these killings. Especially this one. You'll see why.' She led him forward. âThe pathologist says he was killed about four hours earlier.'
âLate afternoon then,' said Coffin.
Inside the covered area, he nodded to the two Scene of Crime officers, then stared down at the small, bloody figure.
âHe's very young.'
âNot as young as he looks. Just small boned. Partly a racial inheritance. We know his name, he had a card in his pocket: Charlie Fisher ⦠anyway, one of the officers on duty, DC Edith Dinks recognised him, she knows his mother. You may
too or Stella may, she came from Hong Kong to work here and got a job in the wardrobe rooms in St Luke's Theatre.'
âI don't know her.'
âThe kid worked in the theatre too, an apprentice stage hand: Charlie Chan was his nickname.'
âYou've done a lot in a very short time. Good. How was he killed? Strangled wasn't he?'
âYes, the first use of a tie round the throat ⦠then cut up afterwards.'
Coffin nodded, âWas he dead when he was cut?'
âDr Jerome ⦠you saw him?'
âHe was just leaving as I arrived. We didn't speak.'
âHe says he can tell us more once he gets the body on the table in the mortuary. He thinks he was dead before the knife went in.'
âPoor little soul..' He knelt down and lifted the right hand. Then he stood up shaking his head. âMakes me sick. ' He moved away. Behind him he heard Phoebe say, as if to herself: âThere's something iffy about this case The way the bodies are laid out.'
âYou don't usually talk like that,' said the young DC who was taking notes.
âI don't usually feel like it.'
Â
Stella was out of the car when Coffin returned, standing on the kerb, nursing the dog.
âWell?' she said.
He knew what the query meant: how was he killed, was he badly cut up, and who was he?
He answered the last bit first because he would have to come across with the identity but might get away without talking about what had been done to him.
âA lad, half Chinese, called Charlie Fisher. You might know him, he worked in the theatre. So did his mother.'
âCharlie Chan? Little Charlie, of course I knew him. Does his mother know?'
âI expect she does by now.' He put his arm round her and drew her to the car. âCome on, let's get off. I've done all I can for the moment.'
Stella resisted. âI want to see him.'
âNo. Can't be done.' There was no way he was going to let Stella see the boy's body. âSorry, love.'
She stood there without moving. âOnce again there's more than you are saying. It's worse. What was done to him?
Gus growled softly.
âCome on, let's get home.'
âTell me, ' commanded Stella.
Coffin took a deep breath. âHis hands were cut.'
âHow?'
Suddenly Coffin could not keep it back. âHis fingers were completely cut off.'
Phoebe had appeared outside the white tent. She saw the Chief Commander put his arms round his wife and draw her into the car.
Phoebe wished she had someone to put their arms around her. She knew by now she was to work on the serial killings as part of the investigation. âConcentrate there', the Chief Commander had told her himself.
Did he mean it was more her style or that she was getting dangerously obsessed with the paedophile business?
She would find it hard to forget Charlie.
An early mentor of John Coffin had said to him: Always keep ahead of the game. On the whole he had tried, and often succeeded in this, but at the moment he felt he was way behind. He did not even know the name of the game let alone the rules to play by.
Better not to let Stella know this. She was a great guesser, though.
âYou think that this killer will never be caught. It frightens you. Your first failure.'
âI've had plenty of others,' he observed mildly.
He was thinking of the killer who had shot two young men and dropped their bodies in the river Thames on the south side. Almost certainly a homophobic killing, but the murderer had never been caught. There was the person who dropped poison into a dish of icecream in a stall outside Fenshone Park behind the tube station - no one actually died but a score of children had a bad time. Then there was the man who almost certainly killed two wives before topping himself. You couldn't call that a success. And they were only the ones he knew about, the worse ones are those that he never knew about at all.
âI won't name them,' he said, âbut you probably could do it. You lived with me through them.'
âThose were professional failures,' observed Stella. âYou didn't mind them in a really
personal
way. '
âI wish you hadn't said that.'
âThis murderer knows us. Knows you, knows me. That is why you are worried. I think it is true. '
Coffin nodded. âOK, yes, he does feel close. Man or woman. I don't rule out a woman.'
He had felt a feminine element.
âI don't like the feel of it.'
âYou don't usually talk like that,' Stella remarked.
âPhoebe feels the same way.'
The professional mind, thought Stella.
The body of the girl in Pepper Alley had, as yet, no name.
âIt's Peppard Alley really,' said Inspector Winnie Ardet, the purist. She, with the others, knew what had happened to Stella and the news of Charlie's body and wondered where it fitted in. At least Stella had not been attacked in Peppard Alley, she thought with relief.
âCan't make much difference to the death.'
âMight make some difference to finding out who killed her, perhaps.'
Superindenent Miller, Winnie Ardet, Phoebe Astley and the other officers involved on the cases were all in the smaller briefing room in the central police station which all disliked from unhappy memories of the past but which remained one of the few rooms for general use, rank or case unheeded. It was a heavily masculine room with leather furniture and a big table that looked as though it had been used to dance on in boots. (As indeed it had been, to celebrate the last successful case in which Miller and Ardet had been involved. They had not done the dancing but they had clapped along with the best.) It was also a room in which you could be reasonably safe from an entrance by the Chief Commander. He knew what went on there, having an excellent private intelligence service, but he approved rather than felt alarmed. This was their second meeting in as many days.
âLet's put the victims in place,' said the methodical Superintendent Miller. âWe can't get far till we do that. Where each lived and worked matters. To us if not to the killers.'
âYou think there was more than one murderer?' asked Winnie. âYou could be right.'
âI was just speculating. Let's get on,' he said irritably.
Amy Buckly; Spinnergate, lived and worked there. School teacher.
Mary Rice; Spinnergate, worked in central London. Computer expert.
Phillida Jessup. Lived in Spinnergate. Student.
Angela Dover. Lived across the river in Greenwich. Worked in Spinnergate; office worker. Former secretary to Coffin.
âAll concentrated on Spinnergate,' said Miller. âWe don't know yet about the latest victim, but I guess that she too will turn out to live or work in Spinnergate.'
âCan we take it then that the killer also works and or lives in Spinnergate?'
âIt might be unwise to assume too much,' said the cautious Inspector Ardet. âBut he or she certainly knows the district. Whether that's any help or otherwise to us we shall find out.'
âWe must establish the identity of the body in Peppard Alley,' said Phoebe Astley. She had prepared herself carefully for this meeting, anxious to answer any question adequately. She knew she was facing a wide awake and sceptical audience in the police officers. âDo your best, Phoebe,' the Chief Commander had said. âI think everything could explode if we don't make some progress on bringing in the criminal.'
âI have made a little way forward,' said Les Henderson, Sergeant, who had hitherto kept quiet. He found the rest of this group intimidating so he was reluctant to speak unless he had something definite to say. This trait was to endear him greatly to the rest of the team while alarming them somewhat at the same time. âLes will go straight to the top,' was their conviction even if unexpressed.
âThey were not exactly unknown to the police, these ladies ⦠No nothing criminous, just that each lady within the last twelve months has made complaints about the police.' He added. âThey didn't get lucky. Got nothing back.'
âRobbed, were they?' Miller was quick.
âEach and every one,' said Les Henderson. âNot for the same amounts. Varied.'
âOf course, I knew that Phillida had been robbed,' said
Winnie Ardet with some irritation. âRobbed and the police were no good at all. I was one of the investigating team and know that we failed.'
âOh go on,' said Miller. âThey tried.'
âIf you're the victim and you lose your grandmother's pearl and diamond earrings that you have just inherited then trying is not enough: you want them back.' Winnie had got the force of Phillida's tongue so she knew how the victim felt.
âNot the only victim. Amy Buckley had her car stolen ⦠she did get it back but somewhat battered.'
There was a list which silently, all members studied. It might help them, it might not.
Mary Rice, lost her mongrel dog. Never got it back. Probably in Aberdeen by now. Aged 22, lived alone, a flat in a large block by the tube station.
Angela Dover. Aged 39. She had a small house in the middle of Greenwich, overlooking the Thames. She was attacked and robbed (raped, she hinted, but no one believed this and such medical inspection as she submitted to did not bear it out), she named her attacker but it was hard to prove him guilty. Just one of those tricky cases from which no one emerges with credit. Angela had certainly hurled accusations around, even attacking the police. No one believed her, but dirt sticks. Angela stayed around in the Second City writing indignant letters to the local press and asking for an interview, repeatedly denied, on the television news from City Central. Of course now Angela had achieved the ultimate publicity stroke by being murdered.
The last victim who had not been named at first had now only just been identified. The report came in to the meeting: she was said to be Charlotte, more commonly known as Lotty, Brister. Age unconfirmed but probably near retirement. Miss Brister was the owner of a shop in Spinnergate but like another victim she too lived across the river in Greenwich, near the Park. She had just put her shop up for sale, likewise her house in Greenwich, saying she was
moving to the seaside to be near her sister. All this was very new information and except for the sale of the shop, which was advertised, might not be true. All needed double-checking as Superintendent Miller pointed out.
âA wide age range,' said Miller. âI wonder if that means anything?' He was looking for help all round and knew it.
âNothing except they were out and around at a convenient time when the killer wanted to work.' This was from Winnie Ardet.
âSo nothing personal, we think? Just an accidental choice?'
âNo, that can't be,' said Phoebe who had kept as quiet as she could. âI think the killer knew them or something about them. The Chief Commander thinks so too ⦠he thinks he is on the list.'
âI think that too,' said Les Henderson, surprising himself. His voice had popped out louder than he had meant. âHe knew them. Even tracked them down, maybe.'
âExcept for the tracking down,' said Winnie slowly, âI am coming round to that view.' What the Chief Commander thought she was willing to think too. Added to which she had learnt to take Phoebe Astley's judgement as reliable, as well as admiring Phoebe's long-legged athletic look. Winnie was heavy boned and solid but she had beautiful fair hair which she kept well cut and groomed.
âI hope we are looking after the Chief Commander,' said Les. âWe'd miss him all right. And Miss Pinero, her ladyship.' He admired Stella, just as he also admired Winnie. On the short side himself and with big hands, but he liked to think with a bigger than average brain, he knew he was no beauty.
âYou needn't worry about the boss,' said Phoebe shortly. âHe's been through this sort of thing before. We are keeping an eye on him, and also on Stella after her attack.'
Word of which had been going round the Second City Force with speed.
âSo we shall be watching for her.'
âI've heard that she actually saw the man who might be our serial killer,' said Henderson.
âYes, ' agreed Phoebe. âAll two of him.'
âWhat?'
âIn her case, two men were involved.'
âHow did she get away?'
Phoebe had wondered about this herself. âLuck,' she said shortly.
âShe can be very helpful to us in finding and identifying the killer,' said Miller.'
âMaybe,' said Phoebe. âOne of the men was masked, the other, the driver of the car, which
was
stolen by the way, she only saw briefly and is sure his face was made up. She could smell make-up. She is a performer, remember, and would know.'
The car had been taken from outside Waterloo station, reported as stolen by the owner and identified when dumped outside a police station on the Greenwich to Deptford Road.
âDidn't know there was one,' observed Les.
âOh just off it.'
âYes, there is a station there. He's local, this killer, has to be,' Les again. âAnd what about that remark of hunting in pairs? Sinister and we shouldn't forget it.'
âMay not mean anything,' said someone.
âOr the double-headed man,' joked someone else, causing Les to grind his teeth in irritation.
âYou don't have to live locally to get local knowledge,' said Miller. âHe could walk around, prospect, work things out. I've done it myself.'
For a deliriously happy moment, Les pictured Miller as a criminal, a murderer even, then he pushed the thought away.
âHe has some local links, this killer,' said Phoebe firmly. âWe mustn't disagree too much here, we must come to a common judgement if we are to get anywhere.'
âI think disagreement counts,' said Les. âLets things out of the bag.'
Miller went to the door, then came back with a tray laden with cups. âTea, I ordered it. Thought we'd need something. There is coffee for those who prefer. I reckon tea clears the brain better.'
Most of them took tea because the coffee was so poor. The tea tasted of something, as Les had said once, whereas the coffee was just dark coloured water. âSometimes not even hot,' Les had added. âAlthough I remember one case where the chill of the coffee helped me ⦠it was in Shillingford. Remember that case, do you?'
âShut up, Les,' said Winnie. âYou're rambling.'
âNo, only trying to help one and all clear their minds,' said Les, not at all hurt, and who knew exactly what he was doing, perhaps not exactly clearing the mind as much as stopping the slight altercations that were breaking out, as they always did at such meetings. He was not exactly a man of peace but he liked to get on with the job, and arguing did not help.
âWhat we have to talk about now,' said Phoebe firmly, feeling she was the voice of the Chief Commander, âis how we catch this serial killer.'
âBy working bloody hard,' said Les.
Phoebe laughed. âI know you are a hard worker, Les. But intelligence and thought comes into it too. I can trust you there.'
âCan we be sure that the same killer is at work with all the victims?' Les asked.
There was a mutter from his colleagues.
âRight. On the whole we think so. Frankly, I can't believe that we have two different serial killers working at the same time in the Second City. Not saying it is impossible, but not
likely
. So we have one killer.'