Lee Weeks - Dead of Winter

Ebony stopped on the first step of the stairs and turned back to Harding.

‘It turned out he’d had an affair six months before the murders.’

‘Who with?’

‘A civilian woman who worked in MIT 11.’

‘Where is she now?’

‘Emigrated shortly after it happened. She hasn’t been back. I checked that out earlier on today. She had a cast iron alibi at the time; she was at the bedside of her mother who was dying of cancer.’

‘Did it shock you to find out he had an affair, Doctor?’

‘No.’ She shook her head. ‘Why would it? You know how it is. The teams spend days locked together in the same place. They don’t get home even to sleep. They have a hard time holding down relationships outside the Force. He was an attractive-looking guy. He wasn’t my type — typical army type: quiet, brooding but he was the kind that if you saw him often enough, worked with him, then maybe he could get under your skin.’

Harding passed Ebony and started to walk back down the stairs. Ebony went to follow but stopped at the landing window two steps down from the bathroom. It overlooked the garden and then in the distance the sea stretched glittering on the horizon. She told herself Carmichael would have stopped at the same point and seen the same horizon. He would have stood here with the blood of his family on his hands. His daughter’s body in his arms. And she knew. . if he didn’t kill them then he would have stood here, his heart breaking, and sworn vengeance.

‘But why?’ she asked Harding. ‘What would he have wanted or gained?’

‘Money? Who knows. Madness doesn’t need a reason or a profit.’

‘Do you think this case was handled differently because Carmichael was a policeman, Doctor?’

‘Of course. . You have the emotional attachment that so many people felt to him. Carmichael was a serving officer. Of course the police handled it differently.’

‘How differently?’

‘We had to weigh up the effect of it; we had every journalist camping outside the police station wanting blood, wanting it to be Carmichael who’d done it. We were trying to catch a murderer. We had to keep things quiet while the investigation was ongoing.’

‘And from Carmichael himself?’

‘Yes. . Details were spared from him. Plus he was a suspect. He didn’t help himself. He went into meltdown. I remember it well. Things were very difficult at the time. . decisions were made that maybe now seem strange. But, at the time, we did what we thought was best, Chief Superintendent Davidson included. We all tried to help him. Carmichael was his own worst enemy.’ Harding glanced over at Ebony.

‘Do you think the Super will reopen this case?’ They walked towards the front door.

‘Davidson will do the right thing. I’ll organize a SOCO team to go through the place again,’ said Harding. ‘Plaster walls like this can hold DNA samples for many years.’

She looked at Ebony as they stepped out onto the path. ‘You’re a good choice to look into things, Ebb. I have confidence in you. You need my help? Just ask. We’re all on the same side.’

‘Thanks, Doctor Harding.’ She followed her out. ‘There are a couple of things I wanted to ask you about the autopsies. I was expecting to see a toxicology report, liver biopsy. . I couldn’t find either.’

Harding looked momentarily flustered but recovered fast.

‘Come to my office when we get back and I’ll give you the original autopsy reports with my notes.’

‘What was the actual cause of death, Doctor?’ They walked to the gate and stood looking back at the cottage.

‘Sophie died from a single cut to the throat severing the carotid artery. Louise died when they cut out her heart. Chrissie the same.’

‘What did you think had happened here when you came here that day thirteen years ago?’

‘I thought some mad man, or men, had come into this cottage and had subjected the women to something unimaginable, killed Sophie in front of her mother, and slowly and mercilessly cut the women to death before removing and eating their organs.’

Ebony got a call from Carter just as Harding dropped her back outside Fletcher House.

‘How was it, Ebb?’

‘Just on my way up, Sarge.’

‘Don’t bother coming up, I need you to head down to the Tube. Talk to me on the way. How did it go at Rose Cottage?’

Ebony turned and walked back along Macdonald Road towards Archway Station.

‘As far as I can see the whole crime scene was ill managed thirteen years ago. No one took the gardener’s statement, for instance. He said he rebuilt a section of the wall that was knocked down by a high-sided vehicle. Plus, half of the autopsy reports are missing.’

‘What did Harding have to say about that?’

‘She didn’t. She said she’d give me the full report plus her notes later on today.’

‘How did you get on with her?’

‘Okay. She’s a bit frosty, defensive even. Sticking up for Davidson. She said she thought at the time they could be dealing with a cannibal killer. No wonder they wanted it kept quiet. It sounds like the SIO panicked.’

‘Yeah. He cared more about brushing it under the carpet than solving it.’

‘Nothing’s been really messed with in all these years. Harding agrees it would be worth bringing a SOCO team down and looking at it again.’

‘Okay, we’ll get Sandford onto it. I’ve been in touch with the owner of Blackdown Barn. The neighbours were right — he lives on Jersey. He hasn’t been there in years. He leaves it to an estate agent called Simpsons. It’s just on the high street in Barnet, two minutes from High Barnet tube. Go straight there for me, Ebb. The owner — manager — Mr Simpson is expecting you. I’ll see you back here afterwards.’

‘Okay, Sarge.’

Ebony came out of High Barnet tube station, walked into Simpsons and showed her badge to the first woman on a row of desks. She was shown through to the manager’s office. He had the file already waiting for her. He handed it to her as he looked at his watch.

She took it from him and pulled up a chair.

‘Thank you, Mr Simpson but I would appreciate it if we run through this together? It’s just in case I need to query anything in it; it will save time.’

‘Uh. . now?’ He scratched his forehead. His hair had taken on a Friar Tuck look — two long thin brown islands either side of his head, parted by a sea of baldness. Ebony nodded. ‘I have an important meeting in ten minutes.’ He looked at his watch to emphasize the point.

‘I suggest you postpone it for an hour.’

He nodded his reluctant agreement.

He went back behind his desk. ‘What can you tell me about the tenant at Blackdown Barn?’

‘His name was Chichester.’

‘Did Chichester say he was going to live there with anyone?’

‘Occasional guests.’

‘What did he look like?’

‘I never actually got to meet him — we conducted all our business over the internet. Chichester saw photos and I videoed the house so he could have a virtual tour.’

‘Have you still got that video, please?’

‘No. . we can’t keep every bit of correspondence, but I have the photos.’ He handed her a packet of prints. Ebony took them out to look at. They were photos of each room with dimensions written on the back.

‘Then what — after you emailed him these photos and he saw the video?’

‘He took the tenancy on for a year, paid upfront. He’d been there since January.’

‘So he left early.’

‘Yes.’

‘Did he inform you of that?’

‘No.’

‘Did you think that was odd?’

‘Well I do now.’

‘But you weren’t unduly concerned?’ he shook his head. Irritation was creeping into his demeanour as he fiddled with his cuffs and looked everywhere in the room except at Ebony. ‘What about the utilities?’ asked Ebony. ‘There must be money owing?’