Blood Evidence Page 6

  So, Cameron Winters confessed. There’s something niggling at me, some small kind of suspicion in the back of my mind that all is not what it seems. They questioned him and presumably let him go earlier, didn’t they? Or was he at the station this whole time, being subjected to the same exhaustive questioning that I was?

  I turn it over in my mind. There’s something not quite right about it all. Like seeing a familiar company logo in a different colour. The pieces fit, and he was the one I liked the most for being the perpetrator. So why do I feel like something is off?

  Ultimately, it doesn’t matter. I’m a free man again, and vindicated. Not that I’m going to get any apologies from this lot.

  But being off the hook is satisfaction enough for me. I take a few steps forward as the taxi pulls up, ready to get in. At last, we can leave this backwater behind and get back to London. There isn’t any point in sniffing around the Highcastle Inn any longer, not with a murder investigation going on. And the police aren’t going to want to tell me about the missing persons case after bringing me in as a suspect. There is nothing more we can do here.

  Ten – Will

  There had to be something more we could do before we went home.

  We’d come all this way to ask about Ray Riley, and now we were being sent off without being given the chance to ask a single question. After today, everything would be harder. The staff would be harder to track down with the inn closed, and media attention would only get in the way. This was basically our last chance to make the trip even remotely worthwhile.

  I packed up my laptop in frustration, and grabbed another taxi. Thankfully they were plentiful at this end of town, with the train station close by. With our bags in the back, I instructed the driver to take me to the Highcastle Inn.

  “It’s closed,” she said. “There’s been police all over it.”

  “I know,” I said, picking a lie on the spur of the moment. “My girlfriend works there. I need to go see if she’s alright, and hopefully bring her back.”

  She looked at me for a minute in the rear view mirror. “Alright,” she consented at last, shrugging and putting the car into gear.

  We pulled up on the gravel parking area, wheels crunching against the small stones. “Wait for me here,” I said.

  “I’m keeping the metre running,” the driver warned me.

  It was an extra expense, but it was worth it. Getting a taxi out here was a nightmare, not to mention that it would be pretty awkward to stand there waiting with the police. I gave her a smile of agreement and walked away, towards the front doors.

  “Can we help you, sir?” one of the uniformed PCs at the entranceway asked.

  “I just need to get in to talk to a member of staff,” I said.

  “What’s that about, then?”

  “A private matter,” I said. “Nothing to do with the murder.”

  “Is that supposed to put our minds at ease?” he snorted. “We can’t allow you back in. No members of the public at all, and definitely not anyone who was a guest last night.”

  I breathed out heavily, impatiently. “I just want to ask about my booking,” I said. “I need to find out if we’re getting a refund or not.”

  “You’ll be contacted by the owners in due course,” the PC said, giving me a not-so-subtle gesture that casually turned me around and faced me back towards the car as he walked with me. “For now, it’s best if you either go home or find yourself alternative accommodation.”

  I didn’t bother to continue arguing. It was clear that there was no lie I could come up with that would work. Most of them would probably only have made me look guilty. The last thing we needed was me being shut in a room and asked endless questions as well as Ram.

  “Let’s go,” I said to the driver.

  “I did try to warn you,” she pointed out.

  “Yes, I know,” I said. “Just stop at the end here, will you? Right before the junction.”

  She pulled to a stop, but she was giving me that eyes-narrowed look through the rear view mirror again. “Is this illegal?” she asked.

  “No,” I said immediately. Perhaps too quickly. “I just want to see my girlfriend.”

  “Whatever,” she sighed. “I’m not waiting here for you to get arrested. Pay the metre.”

  I hand it over, plus an extra note. A good thing I’d thought to take some cash out before we came here. “Just wait, please. If I’m not back by the time the metre hits that amount, you can go.”

  “Fine by me,” she shrugged. I gave it about a fifty/fifty chance as to whether she would stay, or leave the moment I was out of sight. I was just hoping that my low level of faith in humanity would be proven incorrect on this occasion. I popped a stick of gum into my mouth and hopped out of the car.

  I snuck through the woods, as much as someone who has grown up in a city can ever sneak through trees. I cracked probably every single twig between the road and the house, startled at least three squirrels into running up trunks as fast as they could, and ran into a spiderweb stretched between two branches.

  I wasted a good two minutes standing there and trying to get rid of all of the floating, sticky threads from my face and shirt. I still couldn’t be entirely sure whether the spider itself was on me or not, but I had to press on.

  At the edge of the trees, a tame and manicured lawn filled only a small space before the hotel building sprang out of the ground. The pressing concern I had to deal with was the fence between me and it – wrought-iron spikes and tall bars stretching all the way around their land.

  Thankfully, it had been designed for keeping their pony in, not humans out. There was a fallen tree trunk a few feet along, and standing on that, I was able to get enough height to step up onto the top of the fence and drop down on the other side.

  How I was going to get back over again to return to the taxi was future Will’s problem. To use a turn of phrase I had heard from Ram on many an occasion, at least.

  The police had only stationed a PC at the front door. Why would they bother with the back? There were no guests left, and they weren’t expecting anyone to want to sneak inside. Which was where they were wrong.

  I found the back door into the kitchen, easily marked out by a number of cigarette butts on the ground and several empty drinks crates that had been overturned to serve as seating. The dirty white door was closed, but unlocked. I stepped in easily, and found myself facing a room of counters and stainless steel.

  It was empty, but there were two doors, one right in front of me and one to the left. The one in front I recognised. It led through into the main bar area, presumably for serving. That door was a no-go. The SOCO team were probably still through there, collecting evidence from the scene.

  That meant it was the door to the left, or nothing.

  I took a deep breath and reached for the handle, well aware that I could possibly have been driving myself towards an arrest. At least I would probably be in the cell next to Ram’s.

  “Oh,” the older barmaid, Lina, said as I entered.

  My shoulders sagged in relief. I had guessed right – it was a staff room. And there were no police in sight. Instead, I had completely lucked out. Lina, the younger barmaid, and the security guard were all seated on battered chairs and a low couch that looked like it had seen better years.

  “Aren’t you supposed to be off the grounds by now?” Jude asked.

  “Is he one of the guests?” the younger woman – Stacey, I remembered – piped up.

  “I am,” I replied. “To both of your questions. I had to come back. There’s something important I needed to ask you all.”

  “Should we call in the detective?” Lina asked, shifting towards the door with a strained tone in her voice.

  “No!” I said, holding up my hands in reassurance. “Please, just wait. It’s not about the murder. We actually came here for a different reason in the first place, and we never got to talk to anyone.”

  “About what?” Stacey asked. Her face had lit up with curio
sity – quite in contrast to the frowns of her co-workers.

  “You know already that I’m a private detective,” I said, nodding to Lina and Jude. “My partner and I were hired to track down a missing person. We think he stayed here recently. I wanted to show you his picture and ask if you remembered anything about him.”

  There’s a slight easing in Lina’s expression. “Why aren’t the police looking for him?”

  “They did,” I explained, reaching into my pocket to take out the print of Ray’s face that we had prepared. “They found him here, but his fiancée was unable to contact him after that. She just wants to know that he’s safe, and to find out if he’s coming home. We’re not here to pressure him, or arrest him, or anything like that. Just to check on his welfare.”

  Lina leaned forward at the same time as Stacey. Jude seemed unimpressed, but he rolled his eyes and joined them in studying the image.

  It was a clear shot, about as good as you can manage when looking for someone who isn’t around anymore. These days, most people have their shots taken from their Facebook page or Instagram. They’re pixelated, highly edited, and usually not that accurate. The only filter-less shots tend to be those taken by someone else – which means the person is in the background, off to the side, or presented at less than their best.

  For Ray Riley, however, we got lucky. He had organised an engagement photoshoot with Adelaide, so we had plenty of recent, full-colour, head-on shots. The two of them looked completely in love in the images she had shown us. We’d cut it down, focused on his face and shoulders only. Of course, I had the photos with Adelaide saved on my phone – in case I needed emotional blackmail material.

  “I do know him,” Lina said, at length. “I served him at the bar.”

  “I think I remember, too,” Stacey agreed. “He was pretty quiet. Kept to himself.”

  Jude shakes his head. “Don’t remember him.”

  “Well, you wouldn’t,” Lina said. “He didn’t cause any trouble. Went to bed early. I think he only stayed a couple of days.”

  “And it was definitely him?” I pressed. We needed to be sure. The last thing we wanted was a misunderstanding with someone who just looked similar to Ray.

  “Oh, yeah, definitely,” Stacey agreed quickly, before a faint blush appeared on her cheeks. “He’s fit, isn’t he? I was watching him a bit.”

  Lina snorted. “A bit.”

  “Well, I didn’t know he was engaged, did I?” Stacey insisted, her voice rising in pitch.

  Jude tutted. “Harpies. You’d think you would focus on your actual jobs.”

  “Now, there’s no need for that,” Lina said crossly. “We’re only human, you know. Poor Stacey’s single. Maybe if you paid a bit more attention to those around you, you’d be more help in the investigation.”

  Jude only scowled and leaned back in his chair with his arms folded over his chest. There was clearly some ongoing dispute here that I was not party to.

  “Do you recall anything that might help us track him down?” I asked. “Maybe he mentioned he was going somewhere, or he called a taxi when he left?”

  Lina and Stacey looked at one another for a moment, each of them squinting their eyes until their expressions dissolved into mere bewilderment.

  “No idea, sorry,” Lina said.

  “He just ordered drinks,” Stacey shrugged. “That’s all I know.”

  I tucked the picture back into my pocket, mentally sighing. This wasn’t going to be as easy as we had hoped. “Thanks. Even that much is a help,” I lied. Well, I supposed that we had confirmation of his presence now. It still wasn’t a whole lot to go on. “Are Richard and Beverley still around?”

  “They’ve gone home,” Lina said, pointing up. Jude audibly tutted.

  “To their rooms upstairs?” I asked.

  “Yes,” Lina replied, her voice almost immediately cut off by Jude’s reaction.

  “You can’t just go around telling people things,” he said. His voice was terse. “We’re in the middle of a murder investigation here. Who knows what information could help the suspect get away with it?”

  “I’m not the suspect,” I pointed out.

  “No,” Jude sneered. “But I noticed they kept you to the end. And they frogmarched your boyfriend off to the station, didn’t they?”

  “He’s not actually my boyfriend,” I pointed out.

  It was no use. Jude had got to his feet.

  “I think it’s high time you snuck out back the way you came in, don’t you?” he said. “Or should I call the detective in for a word after all?”

  I took the hint, and nodded a quick farewell to the ladies. For Jude I reserved nothing but a cold glance as I turned to leave.

  Returning over the fence involved one of the crates from beside the kitchen door, which I did not feel any guilt over. Jude could go and fetch it if he was worried about securing the grounds.

  To my absolute surprise, the taxi was still waiting where I left it, the engine idling. I slid into the back seat, brushing off a leaf that had attached itself to my shoulder, and buckled myself in as we set off.

  My phone rang, and Ram’s face flashed up on the screen. I answered it, relieved to hear that he was free at last – and directed my driver to the train station.

  11 – Ram

  It’s as much as I can do to rest my head against the glass of the train window and watch as we eventually roll past Canary Wharf towards home.

  “Are you sure you’re alright?” Will asks.

  “Yes,” I tell him, taking another hit of the canned cocktail I bought at a shop near the station.

  He gives me a slightly disapproving look, like he did when I bought it, but it quickly gets overshadowed by something I like even less. Something closer to pity.

  We don’t talk for much of the journey home. We’re thinking our own thoughts. I’m thinking about how I’m going to carry on working as a private detective if I get arrested any time I’m near a crime scene. It wasn’t even the crime we were there to investigate, and I still got it in the neck.

  We’re finally back in Whitechapel when my thoughts turn back to the crime we were there to investigate.

  “What are we going to do next?” I ask. “How are we going to find some new leads?”

  Will sighs. “I don’t really know. I wish I’d been able to talk to the owners again. Even persuaded them to let me take a look at their CCTV.”

  “Maybe we need to call in the big guns,” I say, flopping down onto our sofa. It’s good to be home, if nothing else.

  “We have big guns?” Will asks, tilting his head to one side with a puzzled expression.

  I laugh. “Alex Heath,” I clarify. Alex is the only one we stayed in touch with after our training at the Met. We would have graduated together and probably joined the same force, if Will and I had finished the training instead of going off to the US. Still, it’s been useful, having a friend with access to all of the tools the police can provide. And we helped him out in the past, too, so he should be willing to at least listen.

  “Well, he might at least be able to access some of the files from the previous investigation. We do have to be careful not to get him into trouble again, or he’ll never help us in the future.”

  I wave a hand dismissively and pull my mobile out of my pocket. “Nonsense. Alex loves us. He’s happy to help.”

  “Keep telling yourself that,” Will says dubiously, heading into his bedroom with his bag in tow.

  The phone doesn’t ring for long before Alex picks up.

  “DI Alex Heath,” he says, a habitual opener that has been so stripped of emotion that it sounds neither inviting nor unfriendly.

  “Alex!” I exclaim with faux happiness. “How are you? Just finished a day at the station?”

  “I have, as it happens,” Alex sighs. “I was looking forward to getting home for dinner. Why do I get the feeling that you have other plans for me?”

  “Nothing as serious as all that,” I tell him, leaning back against t
he arm of the sofa and stretching my legs out across the cushions. “Just wanted to bend your ear on a case we’ve got.”

  “Murder, is it?” Alex asks with a hint of scepticism.

  “Missing person,” I say.

  “I don’t do missing people, Julius, I’m on the homicide team. You know this.”

  “I know, I know. I’m just wondering what your guys have on file for this one. He was reported missing, then handed himself in to police in Kent. Funny thing is, he hasn’t turned up again since.”

  “That still doesn’t sound like my kind of case,” Alex says, and sighs. “Or my business. You’ve never been a working policeman, Julius. You don’t know what it’s like. We don’t step on toes.”

  “No stepping on toes. No asking awkward questions. I just need to know if the guy gave any indication of where he was going next.”

  “Bloody hell,” Alex says, blowing air out of his nose noisily again. “You’re not going to leave me alone until I do it, are you?”

  “Nope,” I say happily. “Look, you know how we work. Quid pro quo. I’ll help you with something in the future when you need it. Like how we called you first when we found the crucial piece of evidence that trapped the Highgate Strangler. Remember that, eh?”

  “If I didn’t, you’d be putting me into a care facility. It wasn’t exactly long ago,” Alex says. Good, we’re onto the grumbling phase of the negotiation. That means I’ve won, but he just doesn’t like admitting it. “Fine. I’ll have a look tomorrow. No promises, though. If the investigators tell me to keep my nose out, I’m keeping it out.”

  “Understood. And Alex?”

  “Yes?”

  I smile at how terse he sounds.

  “Thanks.”

  I’m up early the next morning – or, early for me. Will is already siting in the living room tapping away at something on his laptop. A laptop that he closes with a snap and a certain amount of guilty flush as soon as I enter the room.

  Interesting. I’ve got to sneak a look at that screen at some point.

  “You’re up early,” he says.

  “Am I interrupting your morning routine?” I ask, digging around in the kitchen for some bread to make toast. Ugh. The bread in the packet on the counter is blue and fluffy. No toast, then.