Matt Brolly - Dead Eyed

Lambert paused, assessing the underlying words. ‘I needn’t have bothered you, then,’ he said.

‘You’re not bothering me. So tell me what else you know.’

‘Not much more than that,’ replied Lambert.

May’s face contorted into a half smile, half frown. ‘Oh come on, we’re not going to play those games are we?’

Lambert shrugged. ‘From what I can see it’s highly probably that it’s the same killer,’ he said, checking no one was eavesdropping.

‘Of course, you saw the original body. Your friend Nolan.’

Lambert thought back to the day when they’d kicked down Billy Nolan’s door. Nolan’s corpse with its bloodied sockets, lying naked on the bed. The smell, a terrifying mixture of death and decay, not fully masked by the overpowering perfume of the incense. Klatzky had been right. That smell was part of Lambert too. He could taste it now at the back of his throat. He took a large swig of his coffee mirroring Klatzky’s earlier actions. Once he’d composed himself he said, ‘The carving is the same. Identical. And the eyes. He was alive when they were removed?’ he asked, knowing the answer.

May pursed her lips. ‘They haven’t been recovered. Like the others. Were Nolan and Haydon friends at University?’

‘No. We all knew Terrence but he wasn’t what we’d call a friend.’

And what was he like as a person?’ May raised her eyebrows and tilted her head. A practised gesture which had no doubt obtained many a confession from helpless suspects.

‘I’m sure you know all this but he was bit of a strange one.’

‘Mad Terry,’ said May, surprising him once more.

‘Mad Terry. He was a nice enough guy, though. Intelligent. I assume he was hardworking because he was always at lectures. Never slept in. Hardly went out.’

‘Any enemies?’

‘No. People talked about him behind his back obviously, me included I’m afraid. He wasn’t a threat to anyone and no one had any grievance with him.’

‘No altercations with Nolan?’

‘Not as far as I’m aware. I would say it is highly unlikely.’

May ordered another coffee from the counter. Lambert asked for a glass of water, his bloodstream thick with caffeine. When she returned he tried to take the initiative. ‘So what are you working on at the moment?’ he asked.

‘Normal procedures. We’re looking into Haydon’s church. As before, there was incense at the crime scene so we’ve contacted local churches to see if any amounts have gone missing. But the problem with these guys is that they just don’t have strong stock control.’ She raised her eyebrows again, a completely different look to before. The gesture softened her face and made Lambert feel like she was being companionable.

‘We’re crosschecking the other murders too but the connection between this murder and Billy Nolan’s is our main focus at present. In fact if you hadn’t found me there was a good chance that I’d have had to find you.’

‘How can I help now?’ asked Lambert.

‘Maybe you could stick around for a bit. I could do with some insight on the Nolan murders, if that wouldn’t affect you too much? Obviously I would prefer it if you didn’t conduct your own investigation.’ Her eyes narrowed, Lambert understanding the warning. She hesitated for a beat, the first sign of indecisiveness he’d seen. ‘Perhaps we could meet for dinner this evening?’ she said.

‘Sure,’ said Lambert, a little quicker than he would have liked.

DI May stood up to leave. ‘It was a pleasure meeting you,’ she said, shaking his hand.

‘I’ll see you this evening,’ said Lambert. He relaxed as he watched May cross the floor of the coffee shop. The encounter had surprised him. May was more open than he’d expected, and he imagined how easy it would be to work with her.

As he was about to look away, May stopped and turned. ‘Oh, Michael. Please feel free to bring along Mr Klatzky this evening as well if you wish.’

Chapter 5

Light blazed through the office windows on the third floor of the Bristol Central Police Station. DI Sarah May pulled down the blinds in her temporary office, blocking the piercing September sun and opened the window an inch to allow fresh air into the musty-smelling room. After switching on her computer, for the second time that day she turned her attention to Michael Lambert’s file. She’d enjoyed meeting Lambert. So much so that she’d suggested they meet that evening. It had been an impulsive request which she’d convinced herself she’d made for professional reasons.

His file made for interesting reading. He’d joined the force a year after leaving University, joining the same accelerated programme she was on at the moment. After two years’ probation, he’d moved straight to CID. His training officer, Glenn Tillman, was now a Chief Superintendent working for the NCA.

Lambert worked in major crimes and had reached the level of Detective Chief Inspector by the time Tillman recruited him again for a division in SOCA. The trail went cold after that. Lambert’s last three years of service had been almost blanked from the records. Even her Super didn’t have the clearance required to access details on Lambert’s term in SOCA.

She dropped the file on the desk and stared at the photo supplied with the file. If it had been taken some time ago, it didn’t show. Lambert was six foot one with the kind of slim, wiry body she associated with athletes. The photo captured his sad, doleful hazel eyes but missed the lopsided grin she’d encountered during their meeting at the coffee shop.

It had been convenient he’d emailed last evening. It hadn’t taken her long to link him to Terrence Haydon. Lambert had been friends with the last Souljacker victim, Billy Nolan, eighteen years ago. May had subsequently discovered that Haydon had lived in the same halls of residence as Nolan and Lambert.

May placed her hands on her cheeks and stared at Lambert’s photo. He’d made a good lunchtime companion. Funny and intelligent, self-depreciating, he was the sort of man she’d always been attracted to. Still, he was definitely holding back on something. They had tiptoed around the case, each only sharing the minimum of information. She’d asked him not to start his own investigation. His response had been non-committal at best.

A shadow lurked behind the glass panelled door of her office. She recognised the shape.

‘Yes,’ she shouted.

DS Jack Bradbury opened the door. ‘Christ, bit fresh in here isn’t it?’

May had been so wrapped up in Lambert’s file that she hadn’t noticed the cold air leaking through the window. ‘Jack, what have you got for me?’

‘The file you wanted. Simon Klatzky. Bit thin, I’m afraid.’

‘Thanks.’

Bradbury dropped the file and exited the office without a word. They had dated, if it could be called that, for two months prior to May becoming an Inspector. It had been an impulsive thing, and like all her impulsive actions it was something she’d had to learn to live with. Two years later, and still he moped after her. They’d managed to keep the affair a secret back then. Now she wished they had been more open about it. That way they would never have ended up working together, and she wouldn’t have to see his wounded look every time she refused to pay him attention.

The file on Klatzky was indeed thin. Like Lambert, and fifty other students, Klatzky had been interviewed following the death of Billy Nolan. In his statement, Klatzky had declared that out of the small group of Nolan’s friends, he was probably the closest. His life following his friend’s death suggested that he had not taken the incident very well.

Klatzky had been a promising engineering student, and had left Bristol University with a first. Yet, he had never held down a significant job since graduating. Now there was an arrest warrant out on him for failure to appear at court following a bout of shoplifting. One of Lambert’s former colleagues had spotted Lambert and Klatzky arriving at Temple Meads station that morning. Knowing that May was working on the Souljacker case, and Lambert’s tenuous link, he had called May with the information. It had been worth it to see the look on Lambert’s face when she’d asked him to bring Klatzky along for dinner that night.