Love You Dead (26 page)

‘Thanks for sharing that, Norman,’ Grace said.

‘Shows how deadly the thing is,’ Potting grumbled.

‘Perhaps you’d like to find out if Stonor had been to India recently,’ Grace suggested.

‘The little shit,’ Potting said. ‘I imagine the nearest he got to India was a takeaway that he didn’t pay for.’

There was muted laughter from the assembled team.

Potting’s fiancée had died tragically some months ago, and Grace was still treating him gently whilst he was going through the grieving process. ‘Quite,’ he said, and
looked back down at his notes. ‘The initial purpose of this enquiry is to ascertain how and where Stonor came into contact with this reptile. Was it accidental or did someone use it to kill
him? We’ve established there were no snakes kept at the home of his girlfriend, Angi Bunsen, where he’d been living. According to her, Stonor had been working a late shift stacking
pallets at the Sussex Autospares warehouse on the Davigdor Industrial Estate. We’ve checked with them and they have no record of any such employee. Stonor’s mobile phone and laptop
computer have been sent to the High Tech Crime Unit for fast-track analysis, and we’ll see what they reveal. There is one photograph on his phone that could be of immediate interest to
us.’

Grace pointed at the whiteboard containing the photographs of Stonor and the association chart. ‘That weird blurry one. I’ll come back to its relevance shortly. Hopefully we’ll
get a plot of Stonor’s recent movements from triangulation of his phone. Shame he didn’t have a more sophisticated one, we could have got the exact address from geo-mapping. Let’s
not forget Stonor was a key target in a Brighton operation relating to the thefts of high-value motor vehicles. We need to establish whether his death has more suspicious connotations and is
connected to that; has he fallen out with anyone from that team? Do we know if any of them keep snakes? In the meantime we need the following intelligence.’

He sipped his coffee and went on, giving actions to members of his team in turn. ‘We need a search of the police data systems to update all Stonor’s associates. Who he’s linked
to. Who has been in cars with him when he’s been stopped. What speeding tickets and parking fines he’s had recently. We need a full ANPR on his car, to see where he had been in the days
before his death.’

ANPR – automatic numberplate recognition cameras – covered many of the roads throughout Sussex, and the UK. During the past few years it had become increasingly possible to plot the
movements, sometimes on a minute-by-minute basis, of all vehicles in many parts of the country.

Grace continued. ‘We have searched the property he shares with his girlfriend, Angi Bunsen.’

‘She sounds hot,’ Potting said.

‘Hot?’ Grace quizzed him.

‘
Bunsen
burner!’ Potting chortled at his joke, then looked around, but was greeted only with silent stares and, on Guy Batchelor’s face, a hint of a smile.

‘Thank you, Norman,’ Grace said. ‘I’m tasking you with obtaining a list of all poisonous reptile dealers in Sussex, Surrey, Kent and Hampshire. Also check out all
internet trading sources. I’m informed you have to have a Department of the Environment licence to keep venomous creatures in this country. See if Stonor kept any poisonous
creatures.’

‘Other than being one himself?’ Potting could not resist.

‘And find out, urgently, who in this city keeps venomous snakes, Norman. If one has escaped, we need to find out fast.’ Grace turned to DC Alexander. ‘Jack, I’d like you
to obtain a list of all licences for dangerous animals held in these same counties. Also see if there are any reptile associations or clubs in the area – they might be a useful source of
information.’

‘Yes, sir.’

Then he turned to DS Cale. ‘Tanja, I’m giving you the action of talking to the source handlers, see what you can find out about Shelby Stonor’s movements in the past couple of
months, particularly the last two weeks.’

‘Yes, sir.’

All of the team kept glancing, in a mixture of horror and curiosity, at the first whiteboard. Graphic photographs from the post-mortem which Grace and Branson had attended, earlier that day,
were pinned to it. In the central one was a close-up of Stonor’s face, coagulated blood rimming his horrifically bulging eyes. In another close-up, of his hands, there was more coagulated
blood that had leaked beneath each of his fingernails.

Grace turned the page of his CSA’s notes, then looked up, briefly. ‘For those of you interested in the toxicology of a saw-scaled viper bite, this is the pathologist’s
report.’

He studied the page in front of him briefly, before reading slowly, stumbling over some of the words. ‘Haematological abnormalities are the most common effects of snake envenoming
globally. Venom-induced consumption coagulopathy (VICC) is the commonest and most important. Other haematological abnormalities are an anticoagulant coagulopathy and thrombotic microangiopathy.
Venom-induced consumption coagulopathy is an activation of the clotting pathway by procoagulant toxins, resulting in clotting factor consumption and coagulopathy. The type of procoagulant toxin
differs between snakes and can activate prothrombin, factor X and factor V or consume fibrinogen. The major complication of VICC is haemorrhage, including intracranial haemorrhage which is often
fatal. With
Echis carinatus
– the saw-scaled viper – the duration of abnormal clotting can be reduced from more than a week to twenty-four to forty-eight hours.’ He
looked up and smiled. ‘Everyone still with me?’

Guy Batchelor shook his head. ‘You lost me in the first sentence.’

Potting piped up again. ‘If I understand it correctly, from these toxins, under some circumstances Stonor might have been slightly dead – but now he’s actually very seriously
dead?’

‘Couldn’t have put it better myself, Norman,’ Grace replied. ‘To cut through all the complex medical jargon, the saw-scaled viper kills its victims by turning them into
haemophiliacs. Its venom causes the blood’s coagulation system, which is our defence against bleeding to death when we have a cut, to go into overdrive. Once all the coagulant has been used
up, the body starts to haemorrhage. If you cut yourself shaving you’re likely to just bleed out.’

‘Sounds to me like he’s been bitten by one of his friends,’ Guy Batchelor said.

There were several nods around the table.

‘But why would any snake want to be friends with Shelby Stonor?’ Jack Alexander asked.

‘All right!’ Grace said. ‘Enough of that!’ Then, studying his policy book for a moment, he said, ‘This is my hypothesis. It would appear that Stonor has died from
snake venom poisoning, and that could have occurred accidentally, but could also be linked to his current criminal activity. It may be that someone wanted to get rid of him. That’s why
we’re looking into the death, we need to try to establish the facts. It is also possible he may have been attempting to steal these creatures – either for himself or perhaps to order
for someone. My reason for thinking this is that photograph.’

He stood up, walked over to the whiteboard and pointed at the flash-lit blurry image. ‘Take a close look and I’d like any of you to tell me what you see.’

‘A bloody ugly-looking git,’ Potting said.

‘Anything else, Norman?’ Grace said.

‘Yes, looks like a photograph of a ceiling. The ceiling’s in sharper focus than Stonor,’ Potting said.

‘Quite ornate cornicing – the sort you’d get in a Victorian house,’ DS Batchelor said. ‘But that window to the right, the top part of it just visible, with leaded
lights, looks like mock Tudor. I know that because Lena and I used to live in a mock Tudor house.’

‘What are those glass cupboards?’ DC Davies asked. ‘They look a bit like the kind you can get from Ikea.’

‘I think they’re storage boxes.’ Glenn Branson stood up and peered closer. ‘Or aquariums?’

‘Vivariums, Glenn?’ DS Batchelor said. ‘I think that’s the proper term for them.’

‘It is, Guy. Containers that reptiles are kept in, providing them with a microcosm of their natural environment,’ Grace said. ‘Some of them look free-standing but others seem
to be fitted.’

‘Ah, so Stonor lived in one of them, did he?’ Potting asked. ‘A very suitable home for him.’

Ignoring him, as most of the team did when he became irritating, Branson asked, ‘What’s the significance of this photograph?’

‘It looks like it was taken accidentally,’ Grace said. ‘There are no other photographs for several days before this one and none after. Even though it’s hard to see
Stonor’s expression too clearly, he’s not posed for it, and he’s not actually looking into the camera. The date’s interesting – it was taken last Tuesday evening,
February 24th. The toxin from a saw-scaled viper takes from around forty-eight hours to several days to kill its victim. It was about 8 p.m., Sunday 1st March that Stonor crashed his
car.’

Grace looked down at his notes. ‘The High Tech Crime Unit obtained that information. They’ve also given me the approximate location, from triangulation – it was taken in
presumably a house, in the Roedean area of the city. Significantly, there have been a spate of reported burglaries in this area over the past two months, all bearing Stonor’s MO.’ He
stood up and walked over to the whiteboard with the map of east Brighton, and ran his finger around the red-inked perimeter.

‘So you think he might have broken into a house to steal some poisonous reptiles to order, it went wrong and he was bitten, sir?’ DC Boutwood asked.

‘That’s one line I’m considering at the moment, EJ,’ Grace said. ‘The accidental photograph. The small cut on his right arm the pathologist noticed. Maybe he fell
over and the creatures got out. We need to re-interview Stonor’s girlfriend, Angi Bunsen, urgently. We also need to find out where those vivariums came from, and who fitted them. There
can’t be many houses that have these.’ He looked at DS Cale.

‘Tanja, it’s going to be a big task – can you get some staff – borrow some from John Street, if you have to – checking building firms and individual carpenters who
might have fitted these vivariums in a house in the Roedean area within the past few years?’

‘Yes, sir,’ she said.

Grace liked her. The redhead had joined his team after the tragic death of Bella Moy last year and she had a warm personality and a willing nature.

‘Did anyone report a break-in that night in that area, sir?’ DC Davies asked.

‘No,’ Grace replied. ‘But it could be because they were keeping these creatures illegally.’

‘Or maybe one of these reptiles bit them too,’ Potting said. ‘And killed them?’

‘Why would anyone want to keep a thing like that as a pet?’ EJ asked. ‘Wouldn’t you have to be a bit weird?’

‘Yep, well I think I’d rather have something a bit more cuddly,’ Grace retorted. ‘I can’t imagine you can just walk into the average pet shop and come out with a
snake that can kill someone.’

He was interrupted by his phone ringing. Glancing at the display, he just saw the word
international.
Raising an apologetic finger, he answered it, in case it was to do with Dr
Crisp.

Instantly, he recognized the German detective’s voice. ‘Marcel!’ he said, quietly. ‘I’m in a meeting. Is it urgent, or can I call you back in half an
hour?’

Kullen was sounding more sombre than usual. Strangely sombre. In a few words he told him the reason for his call.

Grace froze.

As Jodie lay back on the bed in their cabin, sipping the glass of champagne the butler had brought her, she reflected on how it was all going with Rowley. So far so good. She
knew enough about marriage laws to fend off a challenge from any of Rowley’s family, but she did not know the full size of his estate nor his inheritance planning. She’d walk away from
this with a decent sum, a few million at the very least, she hoped. But not enough to buy a £50-million villa on Lake Como.

More than anything in the world, she longed to fly her parents to Italy, take them out on a boat on Lake Como, past all the fuck-off villas, past George Clooney’s, Richard Branson’s
and all the others. Then they would see the most stunning villa of all, and she would tell the driver of the boat to go to the dock and tie up.

And she’d look at the strange expression on her parents’ faces.

And she’d say, ‘Welcome to my little holiday home!’

And Cassie, finally, would have said, ‘Wow!’

All thanks to a snake.

Well, some of it, for sure. Beautiful, beautiful snakes.

On her laptop she typed into her password-protected diary: