A Long Shadow, page 10
“Now, if I fast-forward to when the storm starts…” said Jimmy, as his long thin fingers rapidly tapped the keyboard. The image grew much darker and the street was almost empty. Shadow glanced at the clock in the corner of the screen. They were now at the time the murders were meant to have taken place. The odd figure hurried by, but their features were all obscured by umbrellas or hoods. It was impossible to even tell if they were male or female. However, none of them stopped by the entrance to Lund Court.
“Keep watching, Chief, here comes the ghost tour.”
“The one we saw from the restaurant window?” Shadow asked and Jimmy nodded as he turned his attention back to his notebook.
“Yes, I contacted the man who runs the tour to confirm the route and check the numbers. He’s called Steve and seemed like a nice guy. He told me nobody booked in advance, they just turned up at the advertised spot at the top of Shambles and paid their five pounds. Last night, there had been sixteen for the tour, a mixture of Americans, Australians, English and possibly a Dutch couple, although he couldn’t be sure because of the accent—they might have been German.”
Shadow groaned loudly and Jimmy hurried on.
“The tour usually lasts an hour and a half. He stopped a total of six times to tell ghost stories along the way, including the one about Mad Alice. Due to the terrible weather, not all of them made it to the end, with quite a few disappearing into pubs along the way. He also said it was possible others had tagged along without him noticing—apparently that happens quite often. He said, and I quote, ‘They’re either foreigners, who don’t know what’s going on, or cheeky buggers, who want a tour without paying.’”
“All right, all right, I don’t need to know the inner workings of the ghost tour business, Sergeant,” sighed Shadow, holding his hand up in protest.
Jimmy retrieved a pen he’d tucked behind his ear and tapped on the screen. “So, I’ve been trying to count feet. With so many of the crowd using umbrellas it was no good trying to count heads. I am fairly certain that when they left Kings Square, I counted seventeen pairs of feet, including the tour guide. Now when I click to the next image, taken a little bit further along from Francesco’s restaurant, I am sure there’s an extra person. I’ve counted four times now, Chief. Each time I get the same result.”
The lines around Shadow’s eyes deepened as he squinted at the screen. Jimmy was right about the pairs of feet. Was it possible the killer could have murdered Ruth, then brazenly stepped out of Lund Court after the guide told the story of the real Mad Alice?
Jimmy turned to him. His expression had clouded. “I’ve been thinking, Chief. If I’d gone to see Ruth after we found those photographs of her, she might still be alive.”
Shadow patted him on the shoulder, a little awkwardly. A similar thought had crossed his mind. “And I stopped you, I know. You can’t blame yourself for what happened, Sergeant. All we can do now is find out who killed her. So, let’s crack on.”
Jimmy flicked to the next image of the group as they passed by the Minster. “You see here, there’s definitely still eighteen pairs of feet. According to Steve, they made their way down to Treasurer’s House, then round the back of the Minster to rejoin Petergate and finish the tour around the corner, outside the Theatre Royal. The next image of the group I’ve got is when they are about to go through Bootham Bar. At this point, they would have passed by The Snickel Side Inn and the snickelway where Norman was sleeping. Now there are only fifteen pairs.”
Jimmy tapped on the screen once more then dropped his pen on the desk and took a step back so Shadow could see more clearly for himself.
“Where have three of them disappeared to?” asked Shadow, frowning. He did a quick tally in his head. There was one restaurant and four pubs on that stretch of Petergate, including The Snickel Side Inn. Had they just ducked into one of those, or had one, or all three paid Norman a visit?
He turned to Jimmy. “You’d better check with the restaurants and bars along there. It’s a long shot but see if anyone can remember something relevant.”
“Will do,” said Jimmy, folding away the laptop. “By the way, how did it go with Oliver Harrison, Chief?”
Shadow was about to reply, when the telephone on his desk rang. Shadow pointed to it.
“You answer it. If it’s the chief constable, tell her I’m not here.”
Jimmy sighed and picked up the receiver.
“Hello?” He paused for a moment before smiling and handing the receiver to Shadow. “It’s Dr Donaldson for you, sir.”
“Yes,” barked Shadow, scowling at his sergeant.
“Ah, Shadow, I’ve managed to track you down. I’m off to the Algarve tomorrow, so I wanted to put this business to bed. I’ll have Miss Habbershaw send the full report to you while I’m away. This vagrant is almost identical to the other one you sent me, but older of course. I put her age at around fifty. She was a little underweight, but no signs of previous drug use. Toxicology shows same type and amount of cyanide compound as before. The one mildly interesting detail, is that there was bruising around her nose and mouth and each of her fingernails were broken.”
“Meaning?”
“Meaning she didn’t drink the vodka voluntarily. In fact, looking at her liver I doubt she drank at all. She attempted to fight back, but her nose was held and her mouth forced open, and the liquid poured down.” Donaldson chuckled. “It rather reminded me of when Nanny tried to make me take my castor oil.”
Shadow didn’t find this anecdote even slightly amusing, but thought it went a long way to explaining Donaldson’s personality.
When Shadow put the receiver down, it rang again almost immediately. He picked it up without thinking. This time it was the chief constable. Jimmy diplomatically left the office, as her shrill voice echoed down the line.
She told Shadow in no uncertain terms that she expected results and quickly. The local MP and leader of the city council had been in contact with her. Both had reminded her that York relied heavily on the income from tourism. These three deaths not only highlighted the city’s homeless problem but led the press to start throwing around unhelpful phrases like ‘serial killer on the loose.’ Shadow recalled the Herald’s front page. The chief constable insisted she expected a speedy resolution before businesses were affected.
Shadow resisted the temptation to say that had the leader and MP worked harder to solve the problem of homelessness, they might not be faced with the problem of these deaths now. Instead, he suggested that when the chief constable spoke to the press she focused on the discovery of Emma’s body after over thirty years. Those local residents with long memories might recall the case. She reluctantly agreed and made him promise not to speak to the press himself.
“Tact is not your strong point, Shadow,” she stated firmly, ending the conversation.
Shadow was more than happy to comply with her request. Over the years, he had turned down all offers to go on media training courses, and he intended to keep it that way, especially if it meant he could avoid talking to young Mr MacNab.
*
The police station was housed in the old Medieval Guildhall, in the heart of the city and on the edge of the river. After his conversation with the chief constable, Shadow decided he needed to see a friendly face, so he made his way up to the records office. It had originally been decided to locate it in the tower room, with the hope that even during the worst floods, being so high would help keep all the files and documents safe. Sergeant George Hedley was in charge of the station’s records office and was also one of the city’s longest-serving officers. He peered over his glasses in surprise when he saw Shadow breathlessly trudging towards his desk.
“To what do we owe this honour, John? It’s not like you to grace us with your presence.”
Shadow, still trying to catch his breath, flopped into the chair opposite his old friend.
“You know, George, you should really think of getting them to install a lift for up here. Those stairs will kill somebody one day.”
“Speak for yourself.” The sergeant laughed. “We’re not all as knackered as you. Besides, you usually send one of your minions up here if you want something.”
“Well, the last file you sent down was no good. Half of the information was missing.”
“The Emma Harrison file was complete,” George insisted, bristling slightly. He prided himself on maintaining perfectly all the records in his care.
“I’ve got two witnesses who didn’t give witness statements, or if they did, they aren’t in your file.”
“Don’t start blaming us. We can only file what we’re given. What witnesses?”
“The victim’s brother, Oliver, and her boyfriend, Luke Carrington.”
“Minors?”
“The brother no, but it’s possible Luke may still have been seventeen at the time.”
Sergeant Hedley placed the tips of his fingers together in front of him as he thought for a moment. Shadow could almost see the cogs of his memory begin to turn.
“Luke Carrington? Son of Den Carrington? And Oliver Harrison. Both were pupils at St John’s?” Shadow nodded and George gave a short snort of laughter. “Well I think that explains it. Your predecessor, DCI Grunwell, as I’m sure you’ve heard, was one of the funny handshake brigade. So were Den and Nigel Taylor-Dunn, headmaster of St. John’s at the time.”
Shadow groaned. This wasn’t the first time he’d encountered a problem created by Grunwell and his dubious methods of investigation. He’d seemed more concerned with doing favours for friends than solving crimes.
“Any particular reason for them wanting to hush things up?”
George closed his eyes, deep in thought once again. “It was a long time ago, John, but a big case at the time. I seem to remember the Carrington boy was adamant he’d seen something that he thought could have been a body in the river, when he was on his way to meet Emma. He was supposed to be on a cross-country run around the city. Unfortunately, he’d been smoking some fairly heavy-duty weed with a classmate beforehand, so he was an unreliable witness to say the least.”
“Did he say where he got the weed from?”
George shook his head. “I think we worked out it must have been another pupil or former pupil. Either way, it was hushed up. St John’s was about to begin accepting girls and the last thing they wanted was any bad publicity.”
Shadow recalled how Miss Hall had described the way York Ladies’ College had suffered, and ultimately closed following Emma’s disappearance.
“So Grunwell arranged for their statements to be lost?” Shadow sighed and stood up wearily. As he did, he noticed a photo on the desk of George and his wife holding a baby.
“Are you a grandad now, George?”
“It was six weeks ago. Lucy had a little boy,” George said, his voice full of pride. “The christening is this Sunday. Carol wanted to ask you, but don’t worry, I told her it wasn’t your sort of thing.”
Shadow leant over and shook his old friend’s hand.
“Congratulations! You see, George, it was worth nearly killing myself to come up here. I don’t know why they bother with all these boxes of files; we just need you and your memory.”
“Flattery will get you everywhere. Now are you going to manage the stairs, or should I phone the air ambulance to get you down?”
Chapter Seven
Down 3 (6 letters)
Partly redefining a close ally
Shadow and Jimmy left the station together that evening. As they walked across St Helen’s Square, Shadow updated his deputy regarding his conversations with Oliver, Mandy, Susie and George.
“So, Luke was into drugs even before Emma died? I can see why they wouldn’t want him on record as a witness, but I don’t understand why they got rid of Oliver’s statement,” queried a puzzled Jimmy.
“I have a feeling he might have been the one supplying Luke,” explained Shadow. Jimmy raised an eyebrow in surprise. “Really, Chief? He doesn’t seem the type.”
“There was something he said today about learning his lesson, made me wonder. He also mentioned his girlfriend was in Amsterdam at the time Emma disappeared. Maybe he bought it there legally, then brought it back home. The statements he and Luke had given might have implicated each other, so they were removed.”
“All these years Luke thought he saw a body in the river and realised too late it might have been his girlfriend? Living with the guilt of not having done anything. It’s no wonder he’s a bit weird, Chief.”
Shadow nodded. He thought about Luke and his bandaged hand and wondered how he had really reacted when he heard Emma had never been in the river at all.
*
Since Jimmy began working for him, Shadow had fallen into a routine of eating at his family’s restaurant once a week. The Golden Dragon was part of ‘Our Lady Row,’ a stretch of Goodramgate containing some of the oldest houses in the city. The kitchen was on the ground floor and the main seating area of the restaurant was up a winding staircase, on the first floor. Traditional red Chinese lanterns were strung along the low, dark beams, carved with the date 1316 and large, ornately decorated fans filled the ancient fireplace. The floor above the restaurant was where the family lived.
Jimmy’s mother, Rose, excited at her son’s promotion and horrified to hear a chief inspector ate alone every evening, insisted on inviting him to dine with them. So now, much to Jimmy’s embarrassment, every Wednesday evening, Shadow arrived to eat beef in black bean sauce with fried rice. He sat at the table next to the kitchen, on the ground floor. It was Jimmy’s grandfather’s table, but Shadow, who as Jimmy had tried to explain preferred to dine alone, was quite happy. The elderly gentleman spoke no English and Shadow didn’t know any Chinese, so they ate in comfortable silence. Waitresses and diners bustled past them and the clatter of pans and chatter of the Chinese chefs in the kitchen kept them entertained.
Then, after dinner, the two men played a game of backgammon, and Shadow invariably lost. Sometimes Jimmy ate with them, but he was often called away by his mother, who spent the evening dashing between customers, her family and the kitchen.
This evening, however, they were also joined by Jimmy and his younger sister, Angela, who was training to become a teacher. Jimmy had set his laptop on the table so they could all watch the chief constable’s news conference. Angela rapidly translated what was being said for her grandfather. As Shadow had suggested, the chief constable only briefly touched on the three most recent deaths. The victims’ three pictures were shown, the one of Ruth showed her when she was at the college and the chief constable merely said investigations into the three deaths were ongoing and she asked the public to come forward if they had seen anything. She then moved swiftly on to appealing for information regarding the discovery of Emma, who had been presumed missing for thirty-two years.
“Who’s going to remember what they were doing thirty-two years ago?” tutted Angela. Shadow smiled to himself. To someone Angela’s age, thirty-two years probably sounded like a lifetime, to him it often felt like yesterday.
“Have you given up on the idea Emma’s death is linked to Fay’s, Chief?” asked Jimmy, as he cleared away the laptop.
Shadow sighed. “I think so. The only thing that linked them was being found on the same day, but now it seems like the homeless are definitely being targeted.”
“I don’t know,” said Angela thoughtfully, “I still think it’s odd Susie Slater was the last person to see both Emma and Fay alive.”
Jimmy rolled his eyes at her. “I think you’ll find, Sis,” he explained condescendingly, “in each case it was their murderer who was the last person to see them alive.”
“Whatever, Sherlock!” his sister replied sarcastically. Jimmy carried the laptop away. Angela pulled a face at him as he left, and she returned to designing what looked like a poster covered in small white owls. Her grandfather tapped on the poster and asked her something. Angela replied to him, then turned to Shadow politely.
“Granddad asked me what I was doing. I have just explained to him that I am running a lunchtime Chinese club, at the school where I’m doing my training. Tomorrow, the children are coming here to try some Chinese food and practise some phrases they have been learning. I’m going to print off some menus for them and put this puzzle on the back. You see amongst the owls, one cat is hidden. They actually have quite similar facial features. The children have to try and find the cat. It also works as a joke, a play on words. You see the word for cat in Chinese is ‘mao’ a bit like the noise they make, and for owl is ‘mao tou ying.’ It literally translates as ‘cat head eagle.’”
“Now your turn, Chief Inspector,” said Rose, Jimmy’s mother, who had suddenly appeared at the kitchen door. She smiled at Shadow expectantly and Shadow knew she was waiting for him to attempt to pronounce the words. Angela and Rose never missed an opportunity to try and teach him a Chinese word or phrase, much to the amusement of Jimmy and his grandfather.
“Mao tou ying,” he muttered obediently, feeling very self-conscious. Angela and Rose beamed and applauded, as the grandfather chuckled and removed another of Shadow’s checkers from the board.
“Very good, Chief Inspector,” said Rose, before disappearing back into the kitchen. Shadow, feeling embarrassed, frowned. Despite the impromptu language lesson, something Angela had said was bothering him. A puzzle. One cat hidden amongst the owls.
“Maybe that’s it,” he said out loud.
“Chief?” asked Jimmy, who had just returned to the table and hadn’t heard the conversation with his sister.
“What if only one of the homeless victims was the real target? They weren’t all linked. The other two were just a distraction.”
“Collateral damage you mean?” asked Jimmy.
“Well if you insist on using these American terms you’ve picked up.”
Angela who was again translating for her grandfather, stopped and laughed.
