Blood On the Wall (12 page)

‘Speak up, please,’ said Seward. ‘For the tape.’

The youth lifted his head.

‘Ian Parks. Denny Goff. Steve Andrews.’

Seward pushed a pad and pen across to Patterson.

‘Write down their addresses, please,’ she said.

G
eorgiou watched while Seward took down Patterson’s confession and got him to sign it in front of his solicitor, before she despatched the frightened youth to the holding cells in the presence of a constable.

‘Well done,’ he said. ‘That was a great interview. You handled him perfectly.’

Seward held up the handwritten list of addresses that Patterson had given her.

‘Next, I’ll send uniform round to these places and bring these three in,’ she said. ‘Or I might go myself, just to give myself the pleasure of seeing the looks on their faces when I tell them their good pal, Billy Patterson, has shopped them.’

Georgiou shook his head. ‘Right now, I’ve got some new information for the team, and you need to hear it.’

‘Oh?’

‘Richard Little’s gone missing.’

Seward stared at him.

‘What do you mean, missing?’ she asked.

‘I’ll tell you as we head for the briefing room,’ said Georgiou.

By the time the two of them reached their destination, Georgiou had filled the stunned Seward in on what Conway had told him about Little, and their suspicions. As they entered the briefing room, Georgiou could see from the shocked expression on the faces of Tennyson and Taggart that they were also having difficulty coming to terms with the possibility that Richard Little was their murderer.

‘But … he’s one of us!’ said Taggart, shaking her head.

‘He’s also missing,’ said Georgiou. ‘And, as Conway pointed out to me earlier, there’s no one like a copper for knowing how to avoid getting caught.’

‘He wouldn’t be the first,’ added Conway sombrely.

‘But why?’ asked Taggart. ‘Why would he kill those people?’

‘Why would anyone?’ said Tennyson, and he gave a heavy sigh. ‘This is unbelievable!’

‘Whether we like it or not, we have to accept that Richard Little is a suspect,’ said Georgiou. ‘We need to check his movements on the nights of the murders. I’ll do that. I’ll go and see his wife, Vera, see what she can tell me.’

‘Someone ought to go with you, guv,’ said Tennyson. ‘Remember what happened the last time you went out on your own.’

‘Yes, thank you for that, Sergeant,’ grunted Georgiou. ‘But I think I should be safe from attack from Vera Little.’

‘Say Richard hasn’t disappeared at all,’ put in Seward. ‘Say he’s hiding in the house and his wife’s protecting him. If he hears you asking questions he might get rough.’

Georgiou sighed wearily.

‘OK,’ he said. ‘Looks like you’re determined to nursemaid
me. Conway, you come with me. You know Vera Little better than any of us. You might be able to work out if she’s covering for him. Also, let’s put out an alert for him. No need to state why we’re looking for him, just a missing persons report, Detective Constable Richard Little. Full description to all forces, and ports and airports. After all, he could be anywhere, or trying to get away. Mac, will you deal with that?’

Tennyson nodded as he made a note on his pad.

Turning to Seward and Taggart, Georgiou asked: ‘By the way, I meant to ask you before I got clattered the other day: how did you two get on with the film man? Drake?’

Seward’s face wrinkled in disgust, and Taggart laughed.

‘He’s a health hazard,’ said Taggart. ‘If we’re looking for someone who’s fastidious and neat and obsessively clean, then Drake is not our man.’

‘But the film he’s making is interesting,’ said Seward. ‘I read the script. It’s about pagan sacrifice.’

‘Shades of Diane Moody,’ commented Tennyson.

‘What sort of sacrifice?’ asked Georgiou.

‘Ripping a body open and reading the entrails,’ said Seward. ‘After the victim’s been ritually killed by crows.’

‘Any beheading in it?’

‘Only after the body’s been ripped open,’ said Seward.

‘Anything about Hadrian’s Wall?’ asked Tennyson, remembering his conversation with Diane Moody.

‘No,’ said Seward. ‘Just Ancient Britons. But there’s a nasty feel to it. Gratuitous violence, just to shock.’

‘It’s definitely worth a closer look,’ said Georgiou. ‘This Drake character may not be the one we’re looking for, but
get a list of everyone involved in the film. Wardrobe, camera, extras, lighting, everyone. And start digging, looking for a connection with the murder victims.’

‘They start shooting the film tomorrow at Castlerigg Stone Circle,’ said Seward. ‘The whole crew will be there all in one place.’

‘Great.’ Georgiou nodded. ‘A perfect opportunity.’ Turning to Tennyson, Georgiou said: ‘Mac, after you’ve put out the alert for Richard Little, I want you to dig into these attacks by Ian Parks a bit more.’

‘Any particular direction?’ asked Tennyson.

Georgiou nodded.

‘I’ve checked the names of the women he attacked.’ He pulled a piece of paper from his pocket and read out: ‘Mrs de Laglio, Mrs Izmir, Mrs Woycek.’

‘Italian, Turkish and Polish,’ murmured Taggart.

‘Exactly,’ said Georgiou.

‘No, they’re not,’ said Tennyson. ‘I’ve talked to them all. They’re all English.’

‘Second or third generation, maybe. But with a foreign name,’ said Georgiou. ‘Just like me.’

‘You think these are racist attacks?’ asked Seward.

‘Yes,’ said Georgiou. ‘There’s no doubt these women were chosen because they were old and couldn’t defend themselves, and the motive was money … but there’s a racist element here. Like the attitude of Patterson when he was interviewed.’

A thought struck Georgiou.

‘What political party does Maitland represent?’

Tennyson shook his head. ‘None,’ he said. ‘Independent.’

‘Which covers an awful lot of possibilities. Run some checks on Maitland and the Parks family. Cross-check against any right-wing organizations. National Front, BNP, Combat 18, Spear of Destiny, that sort of thing.’

Tennyson nodded.

‘Will do,’ he said. ‘How much time do you want me to give it?’

Georgiou thought about it. He’d love to nail Maitland as a racist, but right now the murder investigation and the search for Richard Little had to take priority.

‘At this moment, no time at all,’ he said regretfully. ‘Let’s forget it until after we’ve nailed our killer and found Richard.’

Tennyson nodded.

‘OK, guv,’ he said.

‘Right,’ said Georgiou, addressing the whole team. ‘Let’s all go and do some investigating.’

G
eorgiou was walking with Conway towards Conway’s car, when his mobile rang. He checked the name and number on the display screen and saw it was Dr Kirtle, the pathologist.

‘Georgiou,’ he said.

‘I’ve got the results of the tests on the body of Han Sun,’ said Dr Kirtle. ‘There’s something different from the previous two murders.’

‘Oh?’

‘Traces of a tranquilizer,’ said Dr Kirtle.

‘What sort of tranquilizer?’ asked Georgiou.

‘Do you want the full chemical name, or just where it’s normally used?’ asked Kirtle.

‘The easy-to-understand one,’ said Georgiou.

‘It’s the sort used by vets to knock out animals,’ said Dr Kirtle. ‘I’ll be e-mailing my full report over to you shortly, but I thought you’d want to know as soon as possible.’

‘Yes, I do,’ said Georgiou. ‘Thanks.’

He hung up and told Conway what Dr Kirtle had just told him.

‘A vet connection?’ hazarded Conway.

‘Maybe,’ said Georgiou. ‘We’ll start checking vets and their supplies later.’

His mobile rang again.

‘We’ll never get to Vera’s at this rate,’ he grunted.

This time the number on the screen was that of Dan Murphy, the news editor of the
Cumberland News
. Georgiou grinned to himself; he could guess what this was about. But he liked Dan, so he wasn’t going to just ignore him.

‘Dan,’ he greeted him. ‘Let me guess: Jenny McAndrew’s been on to you complaining that I won’t talk to her.’

Georgiou heard Murphy chuckle, and pictured him sitting in his office at the
Cumberland News
, leaning back in his chair, a polystyrene cup of strong black coffee on his desk, most of which would remain undrunk.

‘You’re into mind-reading now, are you, Andreas?’ said Murphy.

‘With a mind like Jenny McAndrew’s, that’s easy to read,’ said Georgiou.

‘I hear you got beaten up,’ said Murphy.

‘You pick up news fast,’ said Georgiou.

‘It is my job,’ Murphy reminded him. ‘Look, Andreas, you and I have always got on, haven’t we? I’ve treated what you’ve told me in confidence when it’s been needed, and put out stuff when you needed it to flush out a crook or two.’

‘True,’ agreed Georgiou. ‘It’s a pity your colleague Jenny McAndrew doesn’t follow the same rules.’

‘The
News and Star
doesn’t come under the same remit—’ began Murphy, but Georgiou cut him off with a rueful laugh.

‘Don’t give me that, Dan. The
News and Star
and the
Cumberland News
are two peas in the same pod. One’s weekly, one’s daily. One’s broadsheet size, one’s tabloid size, but everything in them comes out of the same office.’

‘OK, OK,’ Murphy agreed, but reluctantly. ‘Look, McAndrew’s new. And maybe she got off on the wrong foot …’

‘Maybe?’ said Georgiou. ‘Did you read her piece she did on me?’

‘Yes, and if I’d been in the office on that day I’d have spiked it,’ said Murphy. ‘The trouble was I was away when it came in and there was all hell over Tamara Armstrong being murdered, so no one at the top was checking the smaller stuff.’

‘So a whole half a page allegation of my beating up some poor innocent kid is smaller stuff, is it?’ said Georgiou.

‘You know what I mean,’ said Murphy. ‘The trouble is Jenny wants to make a name for herself so she can get on one of the big tabloids down south, and she wants to do it fast.’

‘As far as I’m concerned the sooner she moves down south and stops bothering me, the better,’ said Georgiou.

‘Look, Andreas, whether you like it or not, we can be a help to you on this case. We can get stuff out to the general public.’

‘True,’ acknowledged Georgiou.

‘So, why don’t we get together? You and me and McAndrew? Come on, Andreas, this is the biggest story that’s happened here for years …’

‘So I’m told,’ said Georgiou. ‘The superintendent says that even the American media have been on to him.’

‘And you want to cut out the locals, just because this kid has got your back up?’

‘No, because this “kid”, as you call her, distorted what I said to her. So who’s to say she won’t do the same again but with worse consequences. We’re dealing with a murderer. I don’t want her distorting things because she’s so eager to make a name for herself that someone else gets murdered because of it.’

He heard Murphy sigh.

‘OK, you and me. I’ll leave her out of it. What do you say?’

Georgiou thought it over.

‘Superintendent Stokes has ordered me not to talk to the press. All press enquiries have to go through him, or press liaison.’

‘Oh, come on, Andreas! Stokes is about as useful as tits on a bicycle! We can help you, and you know it.’

‘OK,’ said Georgiou. ‘But it’ll all have to be off the record, and you’ll need to reconfirm it with Stokes.’

‘That suits me,’ said Murphy. ‘Shall I drop in to the office?’

‘Not a good idea,’ said Georgiou. ‘Anyway, I’ve got to go and see someone. I’ll call you when I’ve finished.’

‘Don’t leave it too long,’ urged Murphy. ‘This is a big story.’

‘Really?’ said Georgiou. ‘I hadn’t realized.’

Vera Little had always struck Georgiou as like a tiny house mouse in a Beatrix Potter book. Small and very neat, almost starched. Tidy to the point of obsession. Perpetually frowning as if looking for something wrong for her to
correct. Richard Little had struck Georgiou as the same. Richard and Vera Little, a pair of tiny, neat and obsessive book-ends. Now, in her fastidiously clean living room, Vera Little seemed to be doing her best to cling on to her proper and best behaviour, but Georgiou could see that tears were just a word away.

She sat on the edge of the settee, twisting a handkerchief in her hand. Now and then she dabbed at her eyes with it. Georgiou sat in an armchair and listened, his face showing his concern. Conway sat in the other armchair, looking very awkward. This was his partner they were talking about.

‘I just don’t know where he is or what could have happened to him,’ said Vera, and once more she dabbed at her eyes. ‘He’s never done this kind of thing before. Never gone without saying a word. I wondered if it was something to do with this special operation he’s been on lately.’

‘Special operation?’ queried Georgiou, doing his best to keep the surprise out of his voice.

Vera nodded.

‘He’s been on some kind of surveillance which means he had to be out a lot at night. All night. I know you’re not allowed to tell me what it is, but I know he hasn’t been happy about it.’

Oh God, no, thought Georgiou. Another piece in the jigsaw nailing Richard Little.

‘I said to him he ought to ask you to be let off, but he’s always been so conscientious. Always done his duty. You know that, Inspector.’

‘Indeed I do.’ Georgiou nodded sympathetically. ‘When did you first notice this … night duty … getting him down?’

‘Just before he started on it. About a month ago. It even seemed to hang over him when he wasn’t on nights. I could tell he was worried, but …’ She dabbed at her eyes again, then continued: ‘I asked him what it was that was troubling him, but he wouldn’t talk about it. And then, when these murders started, I knew it must be about them.’

A month ago, thought Georgiou. About the time that Michelle Nixon was murdered.

‘Has he said anything lately about having any … personal problems?’ asked Georgiou.

‘What sort of personal problems?’ asked Vera, and immediately there was a defensive tone to her voice.

Georgiou gave her a sympathetic smile and shrugged helplessly.

‘I’ve no idea,’ he said. ‘To be honest, Vera, we’re clutching at straws here. As you say, this is so completely unlike Richard. All we know is that he seems to have disappeared.’

Vera’s face crumpled slightly and she dabbed at her eyes with the handkerchief again.

‘You don’t think …’ she began in a voice that was barely above a frightened whisper ‘… you don’t think this … murderer might have caught him? Killed him?’

Georgiou shook his head.

‘I’m convinced that hasn’t happened,’ he said, with as much assurance as he could. ‘This killer has made sure that the victims are found very quickly. No, I think for some reason we don’t know about, Richard has decided to … slip away for a while.’ A thought struck him. ‘Has Richard been seeing his doctor lately? Is he on any form of medication?’

Vera shook her head. ‘No,’ she said. ‘I think it’s the stress
of the job he’s been doing. Working too hard. Days and nights.’

‘You may be right,’ agreed Georgiou. He knew he couldn’t leave it like this. With so many questions needing answers, urgent answers, he had to tell Vera the truth.

‘Vera, these night duties he’s been doing …’

‘Yes,’ asked Vera.

‘Did he tell you they were official?’

Vera looked at him, puzzled.

‘Yes, of course,’ she said. ‘Why? Wasn’t he supposed to tell me? He didn’t say what he was actually doing. He was always very conscientious about not breaking a confidence.’

‘I’m sure,’ said Georgiou. ‘The thing is, Vera, to the best of my knowledge, Richard wasn’t on any official night surveillance duties. Not on police business.’

There was an awkward silence. Vera looked at him, and now the puzzled look on her face was one of complete confusion.

‘What are you saying?’ she asked, bewildered.

‘I’m saying that whatever Richard was doing out at nights, to the best of my knowledge it wasn’t on official police business.’

‘But it must have been!’ she burst out. ‘He said it was!’

‘If it was, I think I might have known about it,’ said Georgiou gently. ‘I certainly hadn’t given him any instruction about working a night operation.’

‘Then … then it must have been someone else!’ said Vera desperately. ‘He must have been working for someone else.’

‘If so, no one’s said anything to me about it,’ said Georgiou. He looked across at Conway. ‘Conway?’

Conway shook his head.

‘Sorry, Vera,’ he said uncomfortably.

‘Then … what’s he been doing all this time when he’s been out?’ she demanded. Angrily, she turned on Conway. ‘Is there some other woman?’

‘Not that I know of,’ said Conway. ‘He’s never mentioned anyone to me but you.’

‘But … this is madness!’ spluttered Vera. ‘This isn’t like Richard!’

‘I know,’ said Georgiou. ‘That’s why we’ve got to find him, find out what’s been going on. Vera, can you remember the dates when he was out at night on this … operation?’

‘Why?’ she demanded.

‘It might give us a clue to what was going on. Which might help to lead us to him.’

She sat there, rigid now on the settee, the handkerchief crumpled tightly in her hand. Georgiou could almost see her mind racing, trying to cope with this sudden shocking news.

‘I … I don’t know,’ she said.

‘If you can, it will help us enormously. Help us find Richard for you. If you can search your mind, draw up a list of dates when you know he was out …’

‘I don’t see how that can help,’ she said.

‘Trust me, it will,’ said Georgiou. ‘At least it will give us somewhere to start looking. We can ask around, see if those dates mean anything to anyone at the station. After all, it could have been a secret operation that we didn’t know about, but someone must.’

‘Yes,’ said Vera, grateful that some reason was forming to explain why Richard had stayed out so many nights. Any
reason. Any excuse.

‘If you could make out the list as soon as you can and phone us when it’s ready,’ said Georgiou. ‘Iain will come over and pick it up.’

Vera nodded.

‘This isn’t like Richard,’ she said, her voice urgent, insistent.

‘I know,’ agreed Georgiou. ‘Don’t worry, Vera, we’ll find him.’

Georgiou and Conway waited until they were in the car before they spoke.

‘Well, sir,’ said Conway. ‘This night stuff seems to clinch it, doesn’t it? Looks like Richard’s our man.’

‘Maybe,’ said Georgiou. ‘But let’s wait until we see what dates Vera comes up with. See if they match the killings.’

‘She’ll fix them,’ said Conway. ‘She knows what we’re thinking. She’ll make sure the dates don’t match. She’s no fool, is Vera.’