Blood Evidence Page 5

  Will shoots me a look, which I ignore. So what if we’ve only solved a handful of real murders? The practice ones at the academy count, too.

  “I’m not sure you should pry,” Beverley says hesitantly. “The police might not like it.”

  “Asking questions isn’t doing any harm,” says Mike. There’s an element of the hard man to him as he leans back in his chair with his arms folded. Almost like he’s overconfident. Like he might be trying to compensate for something.

  “Let’s just try to follow this thread,” I say. “Now, let’s not jump to conclusions. Just because we might have seen someone with the victim – does anyone know her name?”

  “Isabelle,” Johnny muttered.

  “Just because we might have seen someone with the victim, Isabelle, doesn’t mean they are connected to what might have happened to her. For all we know right now, it could be some kind of terrible accident.”

  Will nods next to me. “He’s right. Don’t let coincidences cloud your judgement. The police will want to know what you personally witnessed, nothing else. No embellishments. That’s what we would like to hear, too.”

  “Why do you care?” Johnny asks.

  I raise an eyebrow at him. “Because it’s our job. And besides which, we want to go home as soon as possible, rather than getting detained by the police.”

  “Fair enough,” he says, after a moment.

  “So, does anyone remember hearing anything in the middle of the night?”

  There’s a certain amount of shifting in the room, as everyone looks at one another, thinking.

  “I didn’t go to bed until late,” Johnny offers. “After they closed the bar.”

  “I wasn’t here until closing,” Lina says. “I left at midnight. She definitely wasn’t there when Stacey finished cleaning up and left, or she’d have said something.”

  “We didn’t hear anything,” Miranda says.

  “As far as I know, everyone had left the bar area,” Jude says. “I checked on my rounds after Stacey went home. The lights were off, and everyone was upstairs in their rooms.”

  “What about this morning?” I ask. We clearly weren’t having much luck on the night before. “What woke everyone up?”

  “Screams,” Mike said, and most of the room nodded and murmured agreement.

  Lina drew a shaky breath. “I just arrived for my morning shift and found her,” she says.

  “What about you – Cameron and Reed?” Will asks. Trust him to notice what I also had: that they were both suspiciously quiet.

  “I was early to bed,” Reed says. “Not long after I met you chaps in the bar. It wasn’t my kind of thing. I woke up with the dawn this morning – I leave my curtains open. I was already up when I heard the screams.”

  Somehow, that doesn’t surprise me.

  “I didn’t realise it was screaming,” Cameron says when I turn my gaze on him. He looks shaken, perhaps more so than some of the others. “I have a white noise app on my phone for when I’m away from home, so I couldn’t hear much. It was doors slamming in the corridor that woke me, and then I heard the rest. I came down around the time that the music started playing.”

  “That’s about enough chatter,” someone says from the doorway.

  We all look up, almost as one, to see the detective who had come to investigate the body. DCI Fairlight, he had introduced himself as. He is an older man, salt and pepper between his temples and his ears, and not in good shape. The beginnings of a pot belly are straining at his belt, though you wouldn’t necessarily be so cruel as to call him fat yet. He looks like a man who was active in his youth and recently gave it all up, but hasn’t stopped buying beer and pies.

  “We’ll have you come through one by one now and give a statement. Please cooperate fully with my detectives and tell them everything you know. There is a duty solicitor on the premises if any of you feel the need for legal advice. We’ll have you all off home soon. The Inn will not be reopening tonight.”

  There are collective groans, particular from Richard and Beverley. No wonder; they’re likely thinking about all of the refunds they will have to issue.

  “No complaints,” Fairlight says. He raises what looks like a list of names and begins to consult it. “We have to do our jobs properly here to get some justice for this poor young woman. Now, first up, I’d like to speak to one… Julius Rakktersen.”

  Eight – Will

  The hours ticked by so slowly, it felt like we might be stuck in some kind of time loop.

  The police moved down the list one by one as they had promised, separating us up so that we could give them our statements and answer their questions. Though they had pulled Ram and I in first, they made us go back to wait in the Dickens room – watched over by a uniformed PC who shot stern looks towards anyone that spoke.

  It did not escape my notice that everyone else, once questioned, was allowed to go. No one came back into the room. No one but us.

  “Excuse me,” I said, getting up and approaching the PC. “PC Green, was it? Is there a reason that my colleague and I aren’t being allowed to leave?”

  “We’re aren’t done with asking you questions,” the PC grunted. “Of course, you can leave at any time. However, we’d prefer it if you would stay and cooperate with our investigation.”

  The underlying message was clear. If we didn’t stay, then we’d be under suspicion. Possibly also arrest.

  I sat back down, sighing. There were only two people left in the room with us – Johnny and Cameron. Johnny kept squinting at us, as if to say that he was certain there was a reason we had been kept behind, and it was nothing good. Cameron, on the other hand, appeared to be lost in his own world.

  Whatever that world was, it was one that had him visibly sweating. One of his legs was jiggling up and down to no particular beat.

  I nudged Ram and jutted my chin in Cameron’s direction. He looked over, then turned back to me with a sly look.

  We were both thinking the same thing.

  Guilty sweats.

  When it was just the two of us left, Ram didn’t even try to hide his frustration any longer. He kicked back in his chair, rocking it onto two legs, and shoved his hands behind his head. He looked like a grumpy teenager. I almost wanted to smile.

  “We’ve been in here for hours and we haven’t even been offered any food,” he said angrily, catching our guard PC’s attention.

  “I’ve not managed to get a bite to eat myself,” PC Green said mildly. “The kitchen staff were told not to come in this morning.”

  “Well, it’s against our civil rights,” Ram said. “Yours, too. You ought to kick up a fuss. Lunch time has been and gone.”

  “I’ll be sure to bring it up with my union rep,” PC Green said, completely unflustered.

  Ram scowled and brought his chair back down onto all fours with a crash. “I’m serious, you know. Do I need to call a lawyer and get them to bring me some food?”

  PC Green rolled his eyes and stepped outside, closing the door behind him.

  “You shouldn’t antagonise them,” I said. If there was one thing I’d learned from my father, it was not to start a negotiation with anger and aggression. -

  “Fuck that,” Ram snorted. “I’ll antagonise who I like. They’re fucking antagonising me. This is bullshit. Why do we have to wait around like this?”

  I didn’t say anything out loud, but we both knew why. Our records didn’t look fantastic. First Ram had been arrested on suspicion of being the Highgate Strangler – and though he was vindicated, the thinking goes that there must have been a reason. Then there was all of the trouble we got Alex Heath, our friend at the Met, into for passing us insider information.

  Add all of that together, as well as our failure to finish police training, and we probably looked like easy targets.

  The unsaid words hung heavy in the silence of the Dickens room before the door opened again, creaking inwards on a hinge that had not seen care for quite some time.

  “Gentlemen,�
�� DCI Fairlight announced. “I hear you’re getting hungry.”

  “Why are you keeping us?” Ram asked immediately. “Have you even found any evidence as to who could be behind this?”

  “It’s early days on that count,” DCI Fairlight said evenly. He was a man who was used to dodging information requests. “The SOCOs are going over everything with a fine-toothed comb now. I expect we’ll see some results soon.”

  “In other words, no,” Ram said. “So, yes, we are getting very hungry. And I think you should be providing us with some lunch, don’t you?”

  “Well, there’s no need for that,” DCI Fairlight said, smiling benignly at me. “We’re letting you go.”

  “Finally,” Ram muttered, getting to his feet.

  “No, not you, Mr Rakktersen,” DCI Fairlight interrupted. “I was talking to Mr Wallace here. We want another word with you, as it happens. We’re going to take you down to the station for a more formal chat.”

  My mouth fell open.

  Was this really happening to us again?

  “On what grounds?” I asked, almost automatically.

  DCI Fairlight considered me briefly before turning back to Ram. “This is an informal chat, and you may come of your own volition,” he said. “We don’t want to have to make this official, yet. However, do be advised that we will do so if it is necessary.”

  There it was again. Go and speak to them voluntarily, or be arrested.

  Ram stepped forward, his usual swagger turned up another notch. “Fine,” he said airily. “I’ll come join you in the station. But I’m expecting at least a sandwich for my trouble. Some coffee, too.”

  He turned and gave me a wink, a gesture I knew was supposed to be reassuring, before following DCI Fairlight out of the room.

  “You can collect your things from your room, Mr Wallace,” PC Green said. “I’ll accompany you and we may search you before you leave, but your belongings have already been checked as part of our search of the premises.”

  “Fantastic,” I said under my breath, getting to my feet and heading the now-familiar path up the stairs to our room.

  I couldn’t help thinking about how unfair all of this was. Was that one case going to haunt Ram for the rest of his life? The accusations had been totally unfounded, and we had even been instrumental in catching the real Highgate Strangler. I’d almost give my life for it, for god’s sake. They should have been thanking us. Asking for our help.

  And yet, we were being treated with suspicion all over again.

  I packed both my bag and Ram’s, trying not to be childishly embarrassed as I put away his underwear and the clothes he had been wearing yesterday. I suppose he wouldn’t have thought twice about it, but to me it felt like a violation of his privacy.

  What could I do now? I clearly wasn’t going to be allowed to stay in the hotel, room booked or not. But it wasn’t like I could just go home on my own, leaving Ram behind.

  I checked Google Maps and found a familiar-name chain café close by the police station. I settled for calling a taxi to take me over there, and set myself up with my laptop on the table and both of our bags at my feet.

  I opened the document I was working on for the latest book, and stared at the page. The publisher was still waiting for this manuscript, and it wasn’t likely that we would get much free time over the next little while. Our investigation into Ray Riley’s disappearance wasn’t even close to complete, and now Ram was under suspicion of something else.

  But even knowing that time was of the essence, somehow I just couldn’t force myself to get the work done.

  Every time I got halfway through a sentence, I would think of Ram. Alone in that police station, being interrogated all over again. And even though I knew he hadn’t done anything wrong – even though I’d told them in my statement that he was next to me all night long – I couldn’t help but worry that they were about to charge him with yet another murder that he didn’t commit.

  9 – Ram

  “We’ve been over this already,” I grind out, feeling my teeth beginning to ache.

  “Yes, well, just one more time so that we have it straight,” DCI Fairlight says, calmly. He’s not an easy man to ruffle.

  I sigh, lean back in my chair, and cross my arms over my chest. “Fine,” I mutter, knowing there’s no other way around it. “But I want you to know that this is the last time through. If you aren’t done after this, I’m calling a lawyer.”

  “Of course,” Fairlight says. “That’s well within your rights. After all, this is just an informal chat.”

  “So you keep reminding me,” I mutter.

  “Now. What was your reason for booking a room at the Highcastle Inn?”

  “Myself and my partner at Serial Investigations London were asked to investigate a missing person. He handed himself in to police in Kent and gave his address as the Highcastle Inn, so we followed the lead to see if we could find out anything about him there.”

  Fairlight nods, as if he is checking it all against what I said before. “And that’s your partner in business, or romantically…?”

  “I told you, we work together,” I snap. This line of questioning is getting very tedious. Not to mention that the room is almost unbearably hot. I can feel sweat dripping from the inside of my collar, sliding down my back.

  “And what was the reason for getting a shared room?”

  “There was only one room left. We didn’t have a choice.”

  “But you are homosexual, Mr Rakktersen?”

  I grit my teeth again. “Ask me about that one more time and I’m going to wonder if I need to be making a discrimination complaint.”

  “Just ascertaining the facts, Mr Rakktersen. No need to overreact. Now, why were you investigating a man who had already been found?”

  “Our client wanted us to. It’s no longer a police matter. She simply wanted us to try to get into contact with her fiancé.”

  “We’ll be the judge of what is a police matter,” Fairlight says, giving me a stern look. “What manner of investigation did you carry out on arriving at the Highcastle Inn?”

  “None,” I sigh. “There was a party going on. We went downstairs to the bar, but it was too crowded and noisy. We couldn’t get a chance to talk to the bar staff, so we gave up and went to bed.”

  “And about what time was that?”

  “Around half past nine in the evening.”

  “That’s after you ordered your whisky at,” Fairlight pauses to consult a receipt. “Eight fifty-seven PM.”

  “Correct. I drank the whisky and went upstairs.”

  “And you’d only had the one drink?”

  I hesitate momentarily. “One drink in the bar, yes.”

  Fairlight nods again, and takes his time perusing a sheet of paper in front of him. God, it’s hot. Why doesn’t he even look slightly flustered? I tug at the front of my shirt, hoping it will let a little air in. I just need to breathe.

  “Now, after you went to bed, approximately what time did you go to sleep?”

  “I don’t remember exactly,” I say. “But it was not long after. Perhaps ten.”

  “And did you hear anything unusual during the night?”

  “I slept solidly through. Then early on I was woken by a scream, and headed downstairs to find Lina standing over the body.”

  “Can anyone verify your whereabouts for the duration of the night?”

  “I told you. Will was asleep next to me.”

  “But if he was asleep, how can he be sure that you didn’t leave the room?”

  “We were in the same bed,” I point out, running a hand back through my hair to try to alleviate some of the heat there. My hand is shaking as I do it.

  “Are you feeling nervous, Mr Rakktersen?”

  I squint. This is a new one. “No, I’m not.”

  “Is that so? Because you appear to be sweating. Your hand there is quite shaky, too,” Fairlight says. He has an almost-smug expression, covered by a thin veneer of innocence.

&nb
sp; Ah, fuck. It’s been a long day. My last drink was a whisky before half past nine last night, and it didn’t have much company. No wonder I feel this way. “It’s hot in here,” I fire back.

  “Are you perhaps in need of medical attention?” Fairlight asks.

  I consider that. “Maybe.”

  “If you are, we can bring in a medic to take a look at you. We may even escort you to the hospital if you need it. Then we can continue our questioning when you’re feeling better again.”

  No easy way out, then. “Let’s just get this over with,” I say. “There’s not much more to tell you. Unless you want to know my inside leg measurement and the name of my childhood dog, we’ve really covered all the ground there is.”

  Fairlight opens his mouth to fire something back at that, but is interrupted by a sharp rap at the door. It’s followed by a young-looking PC in uniform, who requests a word with his superior.

  When Fairlight returns, he’s wearing an almost mystified expression. It’s then that I really understand he actually thought I was his man. So much for investigative instinct.

  “It appears you’re free to go, Mr Rakktersen,” he says. “You don’t seem to have witnessed anything significant, and the culprit has just made a full confession.”

  I think back to the Dickens room, and what I observed there. “Cameron Winters?” I guess.

  Fairlight gives me a sharp look. “Yes,” he says, slowly. “How did you know that?”

  “He was twitchy, when we were waiting to be spoken to,” I say. “Looked guilty as sin.”

  “So do you,” Fairlight points out, running an eye down the length of my body. “Anyway, you can wait out the front of the station for a taxi. The reception desk has numbers of local firms if you need them.”

  I don’t exactly rush to thank him for the information. If it wasn’t for his misconceptions, I wouldn’t need a taxi in the first place.

  I head out front and take a deep breath of fresh air. It feels good to be out again.

  I take out my phone and call a taxi first, then Will to find out where he is. While I wait for my transport to arrive, I think about this long, crazy day.