Blood & Magic (18 page)

“Hell is empty and all the devils are here.”

William Shakespeare, The Tempest

Alex awoke on the couch, a blanket laid across her body. Through waking eyes she looked across to the coffee table and spotted the wine bottle. It was empty, which explained the pain throbbing in her temples.

She stood, if a little gingerly, and headed to the bedroom, spotting the note by the dresser.

Emergency at work. Won’t be back until late,

C Xx

Alex struggled to remember the last time she had actually spoken to him, for weeks they had somehow managed to avoid each other. When he was home at a reasonable time, Alex had to work late and vice versa. Weekends disappeared and their entire relationship now seemed to exist via text or a quick call, both of them keen to quickly escape and carry on with their work. Was this love? She did love him, or at least, she thought she did. The idea of living without him was unbearable, yet she had considered it. Was that a sign of a healthy relationship? Being content wasn’t a reason to stay together, neither was not being particularly
unhappy
. Being with him felt safe, but was being safe enough? Their careers had progressed and the tracks their lives ran on had diverged over the past year, but she could fight for it, put in the effort to make it right again. Yet he had not made any effort, what did that say? Admittedly, he had
never
been good at any of that, but that was just him, he was the calm to her storm. The problem was, he seemed completely unable to show any kind of emotion, at least towards her, so maybe calm wasn't what she needed after all.

Alex stepped out onto the balcony and looked across the Thames. Day had just turned to night and the lights from the buildings across the river made the water shimmer like sequins. The day had passed without her and she still had so much of the CCTV footage to go through.
Ugh
. Where was her phone? She was always losing the damn thing, it had to be around somewhere.

She picked up the jacket from the dining room table and searched the pockets. Inside, her hand met something she was not expecting: a red business card. The Two Gates club. That slime ball, Byron, had obviously slipped it to her as she left. The man with all the answers, except to any question you wanted to ask him. What had he known that he had hidden from her? Then an idea struck her that she was sure she would later regret.

This time, 66b Angel Road was obvious to Alex as she walked down the street, but then maybe it was the red lights that flickered across the pavement like hot coals. There wasn’t a queue into the club and a group of loudly dressed fashionable-types sauntered in after simply giving a nod to the bouncer. Alex assumed it was a club for the ‘whose who,’ and if you knew about the place, that was enough to get you in. She moved towards the entrance and manoeuvred her dress as to give her the best possible advantage of getting in.

“Hey,” Alex said.

The giant doorman moved in front of her, blocking the doorway. He was the bouncer from before, but that wouldn’t be a problem, he wouldn't be staring at her face. The bullish man looked up and down her body, pausing at her breasts. He smiled, his gaze unblinking as Alex tried her best to smile back. Stepping aside, he let out a short laugh as she passed him, his eyes following her eagerly. Guys like him made Alex’s skin crawl, but their predictability was useful.

The club was a different place at night, the music thumping through the floor as the motion of the lights made the whole place a blur of movement. The place smelt of vodka and sweat, but that wasn’t different to any nightclub Alex had ever been in. She sidled next to the bar and ordered a Black Russian, having to shout to be heard over the noise.

“Detective Inspector Stroud, so nice to see you here tonight. You are not working I trust?” Byron said.

Byron stood behind her, dressed in a black suit that glimmered slightly. Alex turned and, leaning forward slightly as to accentuate her cleavage, let out a false girlish laugh while trying to seductively tilt her head. She'd never found being tantalising terribly easy, it always felt like a bit of joke to her, but she really needed to turn it on now. If she could get Byron to speak, it would be worth the embarrassment.

“No, I’m just here to see what all the fuss is about,” Alex said.

“Then you won’t mind me getting you another of those?” Byron said.

Alex took a double take, but Byron was already holding a cocktail in his hand, a Black Russian.

This was a very bad idea.

The two took a seat at a table on a raised platform, overlooking the dance floor. As they had approached the table, the people who were sat there moved away without a word being spoken. It was like Byron was in control of the very beat of the place, the club responding to his every command.

“So Byron, do you own just the one club?”

“One keeps me more than busy. Tell me detective, are you married?”

“A little forward,” Alex said, pouting her lips slightly. “No, I’m not married. If you are offering, we should probably get to know each other a little more first don’t you think?”

“I like you detective, you strike me as the type who always goes that extra mile.”

“I like to get what I want.”

“Good. So what do you think of my club then?”

Alex looked around her. The crowd was the typical mixture you expect in a high end nightclub. There were rich businessmen, investment bankers and the like, the arty types and the minor celebrities, although Alex wouldn’t have been able to pick those out. Naturally, there was the gangster angle, there are always elements of a gang operating in a club. From what Alex could see, Byron was managing to sustain multiple gangs all operating under the same roof, which was quite something. Taking different sections of the club, the top figures were easy to spot, surrounded by a gaggle of girls, their lieutenants hovering close by.

There was also another group, although Alex wasn’t quite sure how to categorise them. Bohemian was the word that came to mind, dressed in tailored clothes, with a confidence, or just an aura to them, that set them apart from the rest. She was wondering which category the Greys Inn victim would have fallen into, when something made her heart stop. She saw him, her unknown victim, moving across the dance floor towards her. But she had seen his body, cold and bloody, just nights before, his throat slit and a knife plunged into his chest. He was dead.... but then the body had disappeared. Was it possible? By some freak of nature was he alive?

As the man she thought to be the Greys Inn victim approached, Alex saw that she was wrong. It wasn’t him, although he looked very similar. The same slim build, tousled hair in a fashionable mess, bespoke jacket and skinny jeans. He was almost the spitting image, except it was wrong somehow. As he reached their table, Byron called out to him.

“Henry, how are things?”

“Just fine, thank you,” the man replied.

“You have come back to sample my fine club. I must say your attire this time is far more suited,” Byron said, laughing.

“We would love to stay and chat, but, you know, people to see and all that,” said the man standing next to him.

He had slicked back brown hair, but looked a good twenty years older than the other man. That was what was wrong with the lookalike, he was too young to be the victim. Perhaps she was just seeing him everywhere, his death had plagued her every waking moment, finding out who he was no doubt key to it all. A moment later he was gone.

“Who were they?” Alex said.

“Just some regulars of mine,” Byron said.

“I think I recognised the skinny one, what was his name. Henry?”

“You are thinking he was the man that was killed the other night, aren’t you? I suppose there is some resemblance. Not that I had ever seen your victim before, of course. I don’t think there is any relation there however, sorry to disappoint. Skinny bloke is quite a common look around here.”

“What’s with the game Byron, you obviously know who the man that was killed was? You lied to the police about an on-going murder investigation,
that
is a criminal offence.”

“On-going? Come now Alex, who do you take me for?”

“Someone who is up to their eyeballs in illegal dealings and if you know what is good for you, you will answer my questions. Otherwise, it is easy enough to stir up trouble and that would be bad for business surely?”

“Now the truth comes out I see. Those sort of threats are ineffective with me detective. You see, I know people all the way up the police command chain that will vouch for me being an honest businessman. You need to come here with something to trade,” Byron said.

“Trade? Like what?” Alex said.

He wanted sex, didn’t he. Or just the power of having it when he wanted, or maybe it was just a
favour
he wanted, a get out of jail free card.

“You and your boyfriend are going through some difficulties,” Byron said.

“How do you know that?”

“I would like you both to go out for lunch tomorrow, my treat.”

“What’s the catch?”

“Does there always have to be a catch, detective?”

There was a motive behind every action the man took, he needed this to happen for some reason, although Alex couldn’t fathom why.

“And what will you give me, besides this free meal?” Alex said.

“Two things detective, two pieces of CCTV footage that I think you will find…
illuminating
,” Byron said.

“CCTV of what?”

“The first is the CCTV overlooking the house where your Grey’s Inn victim was attacked, the second of the individual who took his body from the morgue.”

Alex froze. If this was true, then Byron was up to his neck in all this.

“You cannot present the evidence of course,” Byron said.

“Of course, the government wouldn’t take too kindly to me handling confiscated footage.”

“Exactly, so we have a deal?”

“What do you get out of it?”

“The knowledge that I could have saved your relationship, you will owe me nothing except a small favour in the future, perhaps. That is all, I promise.”

“There must be something more to it than that?”

“Do you not trust me detective?”

“No, I don’t.”

“That doesn’t mean you won’t trade with me though, does it?”

Something felt majorly wrong, what could he gain by them going to lunch? It seemed such a small gesture for a massive reward, but she would regret agreeing to it, she knew that.

“And I will get my killer?” Alex said.

“Perhaps. I will just provide the footage. Do we have a deal?”

Alex’s mind was shouting at her to refuse, but what if this was the only lead they got?

“We have a deal.”

Alex woke up in bed with a cotton mouth and a splitting headache. It was the second day in a row she had woken up with a hangover, hopefully it wasn’t becoming a habit. How many Black Russians had she finished off last night? Oh, now she remembered - too many. What had she agreed to with Byron? A deal that benefited her more than it did him, although he would never propose a deal on those grounds. He knew what he was doing, the only problem was Alex had no idea what that was. Damn, she was supposed to organise lunch.

The doorbell rang and Alex staggered from bed to answer it, grabbing her phone as she walked down the hall.

Sounds lovely, see you at one.

C Xx

Alex looked at the unread text message on the screen, unlocking the phone to see what it was in reply to. It was a message was from her, although she had no recollection of writing it.

I have booked us in for dinner at La Boheme at one o’clock. We haven’t seen you each other in ages and this really means a lot to me, hope you can make it.

Love,

Alex

The message had a time stamp of 11pm, but she had still been at The Two Gates Club then. She had no memory of composing it, had Byron somehow got hold of her phone? The door knocked again and, to put an end to the hammer battering against her brains, Alex undid the latch and opened it.

Dimitri was stood at the door with two cups of coffee and a grin across his face, as his eyes immediately looked south. Alex followed his gaze and realised how she was dressed - a loose fitting top and a pair of very,
very
, short shorts.

“Good morning Alex,” Dimitri said.

“Good morning,” Alex said.

“Good morning legs.”

“Oh shush.”

Alex snatched a cup of coffee, turned and headed towards the living room. Dimitri followed her inside.

“What do you want?” Alex said.

“You asked me to come over, said you wanted to go over all the case notes again, see if we could spot something everyone else missed. Not quite sure how we were going to do that.”

She couldn’t remember saying that either. How much had she had to drink last night? Alex let Dimitri into the living room and finished the cup of coffee, along with two paracetamol.

“I'm gonna take a quick shower, I'll be back in five.”

She wasn’t exactly fighting fit, but after a freezing shower and two painkillers, she was in a damn better state than fifteen minutes before.

“Rough night,” Alex said.

“You look pretty hot for a rough night, what you get up to?” Dimitri said.

“The Two Gates Club.”

“What the hell Alex?”

“He has a lead for us, CCTV footage.”

“Of the Greys Inn murder?”

There was a palpable silence in the room and Dimitri let out a nervous laugh.

“You serious? How the hell did he get hold of that?” Dimitri said.

“We don’t need to know,” Alex said.

“This is a bad idea, do you know who you are dealing with?”

“Not exactly, but what other option did we have?”

“Hell, I wouldn’t have made a deal with him, but if you think it’s okay…”

“I do.”

Dimitri moved across to the table and spread the case files across the tabletop.

“I don’t like it, but I trust you. Maybe we should just get down to business, how do you want to go about re-examining the cases?” Dimitri said.

“Let us go back to the facts, we need to be methodical about this,” Alex said.

“What do you think we will find?”

“I just want us to go through it, use each other as a sounding board, without tens of people shouting their opinions.”

“Okay then, I’ll let you lead the way.”

“Right then,” Alex said. “So the crimes have all been committed at night.”

“And CCTV footage has been available, close to the murder sites for…” Dimitri flicked through the notes, “for all of them except victim’s 3, 6 and 7. None of them caught anything.”

“We also have examples of CCTV equipment being either disabled or broken for every case, so essentially, we have no footage of the crime scenes. We’ve been checking footage further out, but so far we are coming up empty.”

“As for witnesses, it’s a no straight across the board, even at locations where people were about. Nobody saw anything, every door-to-door or appeal we have done has given us nothing.”

“Were there any particular similarities between the murder sites?”

“Well, all of them were natural locations for the victim to go to, he didn’t lure them somewhere to kill them. Like the last guy, before the Greys Inn murder, was out for drinks at a pub and went for a cigarette. How can the killer have planned that unless he just chose a night and stalked the victim, waiting for the right opportunity?”

“But then nobody has reported someone suspicious in the area in the time leading up to, and including, the murder,” Alex said.

“Like Jack the Ripper then,” Dimitri said. “Living in the shadows.”

“I really don’t think we want to be chasing legends, do you?”

“Not when the media is already doing that for us, I take it you have been catching the papers?”

“Unfortunately, yes.”

“Pert arse in the photos though babe, you’ll be getting your own fan club before long.”

Alex glared at him, “Shall we move onto the victims?”

“Good idea,” Dimitri said, as he flicked through the pages. “There is no link with the ages, gender, height, build, or even hair colour.”

“All had different careers, they were accountants, a school teacher, a nurse, a builder. No link there.”

“I also did background checks on where they lived and no leads there. Only suspicious thing was Ben Morris’ previous address, turns out he was actually in rehab during that period. Managed to speak to someone from the area who was friendly with him, hadn’t come up in our initial interviews. Why would someone want to cover that up? I spent most of the morning verifying the information we have on previous addresses and all looks to be in order. Something felt off with Morris though, so I have requested written versions of his files to be sent over from the Rehab clinic.”

“When did you do that?” Alex said.

“I didn’t exactly have a laid back Saturday after all.”

“I’m impressed.”

“Like to keep you surprised. On to criminal records then? Two of them did, out of the lot.”

“No, three. Victims 1, 4 and 6.”

“We aren’t talking major crimes, the first victim had a previous for drink driving. Forth had a fraud charge and embezzled some money, naturally he was the accountant, and victim number six had two charges of assault, neither of which got to court,” Dimitri said, reading from the notes scattered around the table.

“Others all clean?”

“A couple of parking tickets and a caution, but three of them are as white as snow.”

“What is left to look at?”

“Method of attack is a single laceration to neck. A cut to the jugular vein and carotid artery, causing massive blood loss with death being almost immediate. The incision dissects the wind-pipe, cutting off air-flow which means the victim dies silently. That’s what Chris’s autopsy reports say anyway,” Dimitri said.

“Lovely.”

“By the dimensions of the cut, we are looking for a long thin knife, similar to the kind used by a butcher. The movement is quick and almost perfectly horizontal which means the victims don’t struggle when he attacks. Killer would likely be covered in blood if he were in front of the victim, although the angle of the cut would suggest that he attacks from behind. They probably never see what’s coming.”

“He’s right handed.”

“Yes, from the direction of the cut.”

“And we have no other forensic evidence, which suggests he knows what we look for,” Alex said.

“You suggesting law enforcement?” Dimitri said.

“Or anyone that has watched CSI Miami.”

“And no footprints, how does he do that?”

“You guess Dimitri, is as good as mine.”

Alex told Dimitri about her lunch date and he left her to get ready. The realisation of what this meal meant hit Alex as she left the flat. This farce meal would give her the identity of the killer they had been hunting, but there was another aspect of it that gave Alex more cause for anxiety. This would be the first time she would be alone with Charlie in weeks.

La Boheme was a French restaurant located just off High Holborn. By the time Alex arrived, Charlie was already there, sat at a table in the middle of the restaurant.

“Charlie,” Alex said, with as warm a tone as she could.

Charlie rose from his seat and the pair embraced, Alex wrapping her arms around him tightly as thoughts of what Byron could be up to wracked her mind.

“You looked a little worse for wear when I got in last night, work drinks?” Charlie said.

“Yeah, work drinks, with the guys from… work,” Alex said.

“Who was there?”

“Oh you know, the usual. Minerva, Dimitri, that twit Drew and a couple of others from the operation.”

“Did Nick go?”

“No, he rarely mingles with the troops.”

“Well, you looked to have had your fair share of, let me guess, Malibu?”

He was wrong, that wasn’t her drink.

“Yeah, you’re right,” Alex said.

“Saw you had a lot of papers on the coffee table when I came in. I tidied them up, I hope you don’t mind.”

“Thanks.”

The table was close and intimate, yet both leaned back in their chairs. A small candle sat between them, the flame the focus of Alex’s attention as the fake dinner she had embroiled them both in continued.

“How is the case coming?” Charlie said.

“I can’t really talk about it, you know that. What I can say is it’s not exactly going well. How are things with at your work, what are you working on at the moment?”

“You know, I can’t really talk about it either. We are looking at trends in social media with respect to the recent terror threats, but it’s pretty boring as usual.”

“Right, so as we already knew, work is a no-go subject.”

They laughed and the waitress came over to take their orders, bringing them some drinks. Alex decided to avoid anything alcoholic, the cloudiness of her head a gentle reminder of the night before, not that she could remember exactly what had happened. By the time food came, a silence had developed, it was almost like being back at the flat together. Alex pushed her ravioli around on the plate, her stomach not up to the thick creamy cheese sauce they floated in.

“So, when this case is solved, I should have some free time,” Alex said.

“That would be good, you have been working a lot lately,” Charlie said.

“Yes, maybe we could take a holiday,
reconnect
?”

There was a pause in the conversation. Nobody had been willing to say it before, but Alex had without meaning to. Whatever connection they had once had, their work had caused them to drift apart, if it was just the work that was to blame.

“I’m not sure I’ll be able to get the time off of work,” Charlie said.

“What do you mean? You carry out research, surely they can spare you for a week?”

“You don’t understand, the work I do is very important.”

“And the work I do isn’t?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“But you are saying it is more important than me, than us?”

“Yes. You don’t appreciate the scale of what I have to deal with.”

“Yes?”

“I… I didn’t mean that. It’s not exactly like
you
have made any great efforts. For months now you have moaned that we are growing apart, but what can I do?”

Alex noticed that both of their voices had raised and the couple at the table across from them had started to stare. She didn’t care, she knew what was coming.

“I don’t make an effort? I try, but you are never home. How are we supposed to have a relationship, when you work late everyday? Let alone have time for sex anymore, I feel like you don’t want me.”

“And you don’t work late?”

“I am hunting a murderer, who is still at large. What is so bloody urgent about knowing how Twitter was used in bloody terrorist attacks?”

“You don’t know what you are talking about.”

“No, Charlie, I don’t know you.”

Alex stood up from the table, turned her back and headed for the door. She had expected Charlie would follow her, try to stop her from leaving.

He didn’t.