A Long Shadow, page 7
“Luke Carrington, Chief?” asked Jimmy, under his breath.
Shadow gave a slight smile. “How did you guess?”
*
The two detectives walked along Petergate, towards a large and imposing brick building. It had once been York Ladies’ College. Now on the ground floor, it was an Italian restaurant, La Scuola Femminile, while the upper floors had been converted into luxury apartments. Mad Alice had returned to her usual spot, sitting opposite the restaurant’s entrance. Shadow and Jimmy paused to speak with her. The last time Shadow had met her she had seemed quite coherent. However, this evening she was rocking gently back and forth, as she quietly recited poetry to herself. Shadow bent down to hear what she was saying.
“Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May, and summer’s lease hath all too short a date.”
“Yes, that’s right,” agreed Shadow, evenly, “there’s a storm brewing. Best get yourself undercover.” He pointed to the alleyway behind her, but she didn’t seem to hear him and just continued to smile and sway. Shadow stood up and left her in peace, wondering if it was her earlier encounter with Stather, that had upset her.
*
As they stepped through the doors of La Scuola Femminile, Shadow was greeted warmly by Francesco, the owner.
“How good to see you, my friend! We usually see you on Fridays only. I have a table right here for you.”
He led the two men through to the dining room and to a window table for two, looking out over Petergate.
“I thought we were here for work, Chief?” whispered Jimmy, uncomfortably.
“There’s no rule that says we can’t eat and work at the same time,” replied Shadow as he briefly glanced through the menu.
“I’m not hungry, sir—I had a burger on the way over.”
Shadow tutted disapprovingly and turned to the hovering Francesco. “A mineral water for him please, Francesco, and I’ll have a large glass of Grillo. To eat make it the gamberoni mari e monti followed by the branzino zafferano.”
“Excellent choice!” exclaimed the Italian, before disappearing into the kitchen.
“I didn’t know you could speak Italian, sir,” said Jimmy.
“I’m afraid that’s only one of many things you don’t know, Sergeant Chang. For example, you also didn’t know that the room we now sit in was once the school hall, where a young Emma Harrison and Susie Slater would have attended assembly each morning.”
“Really, this used to be a school?”
“Yes, did the name not give it away?”
Jimmy shook his head looking confused.
Shadow sighed in despair and continued, “It was the York Ladies’ College, an establishment dedicated to the education of our city’s finest young females.”
Jimmy looked around him, taking in the Victorian tiled floor, the high ceilings and the wood-panelled walls covered in many black-and-white photographs of sports teams and musical ensembles.
“It looks nothing like my old school.”
Just then Francesco reappeared with the drinks and Shadow’s prawns.
“Ah, Francesco, I was explaining to Sergeant Chang here, that this used to be a school.”
“Yes, that’s right. My father bought the place, maybe twenty-five years ago. It was still full of all the old junk when we took over. Some of it we kept—” he gestured towards the trophies on the mantelpiece and lacrosse sticks hanging from the ceiling “—but it took us weeks to clear the rest. When we were finally ready to open, my father asked Susie Slater, the famous singer, to cut the ribbon. She had been a pupil.”
“I don’t suppose you have any old photos of her from when she was here?” asked Shadow, his mouth already half full of prawns.
“Yes, certainly we do—they are in the ladies’ cloakroom. I remember Susie made a joke of it at the time. She was a nice lady. I could send Lucia in to get them for you?” offered Francesco, as he turned to leave.
“No that’s fine, Sergeant Chang can go,” insisted Shadow.
Jimmy looked horrified. “Chief! What if someone’s in there?”
“It’ll be fine. Just show them your warrant card.”
Reluctantly, Jimmy got up and self-consciously walked towards the ladies’ toilets, leaving his boss to enjoy his starter.
*
Shadow had just swallowed the last prawn, when Jimmy returned still looking sheepish and carrying several framed photographs under his arm. He slipped back into his chair and gave a relieved sigh.
“I found three with Susie in. You know she was really easy to spot. She hasn’t changed that much.”
Francesco hurried to clear the table, so the photographs could be laid out. The first showed the first eleven hockey team. Emma was sat in the middle as captain and Susie was standing on the back row. Shadow tapped his finger on the picture.
“That’s Emma,” he told Jimmy.
“Wow, she really was stunning. What a waste.”
Shadow pushed his glasses on his nose and peered more closely at the photos. The second one was a class photo, showing twenty girls lined up in three rows, with a stern-looking, grey-haired woman in the middle of the front row and another younger woman next to her. The names of everyone were neatly printed below. Susie and Emma were standing next to each other in the middle row. The stern, older woman was Miss Robertshaw and the younger one Miss Brooke. The third photo was a less-staged image. Susie and Emma were being presented with a trophy for, according to the caption, winning the Yorkshire Ladies’ Rowing Championship, but it wasn’t the silverware Shadow was interested in, but the clearer image of a smiling and clapping Miss Brooke.
“It’s her!” he exclaimed.
“Who?” asked Jimmy.
“Mad Alice!”
“Are you sure, sir?” Jimmy leaned forward and studied the two photographs more carefully.
“Definitely. Imagine her with grey hair and a bit thinner.”
It was true. The delicate birdlike features and the shy, slightly nervous smile were unmistakable. Both men automatically looked out of the window, across the street to the narrow entrance of Mad Alice Lane, but she was nowhere to be seen. In fact, the whole street was unusually quiet. The sky had grown very dark and there was an ominous rumble of thunder in the distance. At the same time, the first few heavy drops of rain began to streak down the window.
“Maybe she used to be an English teacher and that’s why she’s always reciting poetry. Do you want me to go out and try to find her, sir?” Jimmy offered, but Shadow shook his head.
“No, leave her be. She’s probably asleep by now anyway. We can talk to her in the morning. Hopefully, she’ll be making more sense by then too.”
Their view was suddenly blocked by a ghost tour, huddled under umbrellas, stopping outside their window. At the same time, Francesco arrived with the sea bass.
“Do any of the old teachers ever come in, Francesco?” enquired Shadow.
“No, sometimes students, old girls they call themselves, but not any teachers. Most must be very old or dead now. There is still Miss Hall, of course.”
“Who’s that?” asked Jimmy, as Shadow was already too absorbed with eating to continue the conversation.
“The old headmistress,” explained Francesco, “she must be nearly ninety now. She lived in one of the apartments upstairs and used to visit us from time to time. She liked to eat in the small dining room at the back; it had been her office. A few years ago, she moved out to Bishopthorpe, to a retirement home.” He shook his head, sadly. “The poor lady had no family. I haven’t seen her since she moved. Who knows, maybe she passed away.”
Francesco made the sign of the cross before hurrying back into the kitchen. Shadow continued tucking into his fish enthusiastically, while Jimmy sipped his water thoughtfully.
“Why do you think Mad Alice, sorry I mean Miss Brooke, came back to York?” he asked.
Shadow shrugged.
“What do you think sent her loopy? Something that happened here?”
Shadow shrugged again.
Jimmy persisted. “Do you think Susie recognised her? She’s pretty involved with most of the homeless in the city, but Miss Brooke wasn’t at the soup kitchen tonight, was she?”
Shadow gave in. His sergeant clearly had no respect for a man when he was eating. Reluctantly, he lowered his knife and fork. “No, she wasn’t, but earlier I saw her talking to Dr Stather down by the river. They looked fairly animated and I don’t think it was the first time they had met.”
Jimmy’s eyes widened. “What do you think they were talking about?”
“I’ve no idea. Now go and put those photos back where they belong and let me finish my dinner in peace.”
*
By the time the two men left the restaurant, the heavens had definitely opened, and raindrops were pounding rapidly down on to the pavement. They wished each other goodnight and Jimmy dashed around the corner, home to Goodramgate. Shadow turned up his collar and hurried back across the square and down Shambles, which was now eerily empty. He paused for a second outside the Angelique Boutique.
There was still a light on inside. When Shadow peered through the window, he could see Mandy and Cristina inside. Cristina was wearing a long red evening dress. She was standing with her hands on her hips and looking at her reflection in a mirror, while Mandy stood watching with folded arms, her expression impossible to read. Shadow was the first to admit he was no fashion expert, but he doubted Cristina was the boutique’s usual type of customer. Both women turned their heads towards the corner of the room and Shadow guessed there was someone else present, but he couldn’t see who. There was another rumble of thunder and a cold trickle of rain ran down his neck. He shivered and hurried on his way before either woman saw him.
Chapter Five
Across 10 (7 letters)
Getting the wrong idea in NYC can be deadly
That night Shadow lay in his bed unable to sleep. He didn’t know whether to blame his late-night snack of the half-eaten Stilton that had been lingering in the fridge, or his noisy neighbours. The geese who lived on the riverbank must have been excited by the earlier rain and were still honking loudly, long after the storm was over. He rearranged his pillows and closed his eyes again, but thoughts about the case kept jostling for prominence in his mind.
When he’d first moved back to York from London, he’d liked the way his home city had such a small-town feel, with everyone knowing everyone else. Right now, he found it claustrophobic. It was unsettling the way each person’s life seemed to be entwined with the next person he met. The deaths of two young women, Fay and Emma, over thirty years apart, felt somehow connected. He couldn’t see how, after all Emma must have been dead for years before Fay was even born, but it was just a feeling he had. A feeling that was keeping him awake. In the distance, he heard the bells of the Minster chime five. It was pointless to try and sleep now; he may as well get up.
Half an hour later, he was showered, dressed and walking along the towpath. He passed the geese, who were now quiet and huddled together, sleeping peacefully. The old bonding warehouses, now converted into apartments, were all in darkness. The inky-black night sky was slowly turning a pale grey and a gentle mist was rising from the river. A cool breeze carried the scent of cocoa across the city, from the chocolate factory in the north. As he walked over Skeldergate Bridge, Shadow spotted two figures in sleeping bags huddled on the benches in the park below. He counted at least a dozen more similar figures in doorways as he wandered along Coppergate, Stonebow and Colliergate. The edges of the cardboard they slept on were dark and sodden from the heavy rain.
When he arrived back on Goodramgate, he paused at the spot where Fay had been found. Several bunches of flowers had been laid there in tribute. He knelt down and pulled out his glasses from his top pocket, so he could read the accompanying cards.
‘Rest in Peace, Fay. You will always be in our hearts. With love from Luke, Susie and all your friends at The Haven.’
‘Sleep with the Angels, sweet girl. Love from Cristina.’
‘Riposare in pace—Gino and all at Catania’s.’
Shadow straightened up with difficultly and removed his glasses to rub his eyes. The sound of someone tapping on the glass behind him made him turn around. Gino was at the window of the restaurant and motioned for Shadow to come to the door. The two men knew each other well, as Catania’s was another of Shadow’s favourite Italian restaurants. They shook hands warmly and Gino handed the inspector an espresso.
“You are up early, my friend.”
Shadow nodded as he sipped the coffee gratefully.
“I had a lot on my mind. How about you?”
“I’m waiting for a delivery of fish,” Gino explained. “We closed yesterday out of respect for the unfortunate young girl, but today we must open. You understand?” He looked apologetic. Shadow smiled at him reassuringly.
“Of course. It was a kind gesture of you not to open.”
“I wish there was something more we could have done. Maria and I weren’t working that night—maybe if we had seen her, we could have helped. Maria has taken it badly. She is at mass right now.”
Maria was Gino’s wife. She was a small, fiery Sicilian and very religious.
“Who was working on Sunday night?”
“It was quiet by the end of the evening, so at closing time it was only Pepe—our manager—a chef and a young waitress. Your sergeant spoke to them all. They left after eleven, by the kitchen door at the back and went through Bedern, not Goodramgate. They said they didn’t see anything.”
Shadow drank down his coffee and waved Gino goodbye. The sun was up now, casting a warm golden glow on the pale cream stone of the Minster. He continued on his way past the great cathedral, deep in thought, and came to a stop outside St Wilfrid’s, one of the city’s few Catholic churches. Standing in the shadow of the Minster, it was dwarfed by its Anglican neighbour. He pushed open the heavy wooden door and stepped inside. There was a strong smell of incense and furniture polish. Down by the altar, a priest was conducting a quiet mass for a congregation of seven. Shadow could make out the figure of Gino’s wife, Maria, her dark head bent in prayer.
Although not a religious man, at various times in his life Shadow had found the traditions of the church reassuring. Quietly, he made his way to a metal stand in the corner. Silently, he lit three candles, stood for a moment, then left as quickly as he’d arrived.
As he stepped outside and began walking towards Petergate, it occurred to him that Fay had probably been shown more kindness and respect in death, than she had in life. Both Fay and Emma had been called ‘friend’ by Susie Slater and both had died as teenagers. Was Jake right? Could Susie have been the target? Did somebody blame her for Emma’s death?
Before he knew it, he found himself next to the entrance to Mad Alice Lane. Was it too early to wake her? Would she even understand his questions, or be able to answer them? The last thing he wanted to do was upset her. He ducked his head under the entrance and took a few steps towards the body curled up on the velvet cushion. He gave a small cough and whispered, “Good morning.” There was no response. He spoke again, a little louder, not wanting to startle her. “Good morning, Miss Brooke.” He took another step towards her and reached out to touch her small, pale hand. To his horror, it was cold and lifeless. As he looked closer lying next to the body was a bottle of Holy Cow vodka.
*
Clutching a large takeaway coffee, Jimmy pushed his way through uniformed officers and forensics teams, while trying to dodge the crowd of complaining delivery drivers and business owners, who were being barred from getting on with their work. Shadow watched him approach as he sat alone on the steps of La Scuola Femminile, quietly sipping a cappuccino Francesco had brought out for him. He was silently berating himself. Instead of wasting time trying to find a connection between Fay and Emma, he should have been focused on who wanted to poison these poor souls sleeping on the streets. He drained his cup as his sergeant reached him.
“Sir, another body’s been found,” Jimmy said, urgently.
Shadow slowly raised his head. “For crying out loud, Jimmy, I know! It was me who found her.”
“No, sir, not Mad Alice, I mean Miss Brooke. It’s Norman.”
Shadow paused for a second and then set his cup down and hauled himself up. “Where is he?”
“He was found in the alley next to The Snickel Side Inn. The landlord found him when he opened up this morning.”
“Any chance it’s natural causes?”
“I doubt it, sir. He was found with a half-empty bottle of Holy Cow.”
“For crying out loud,” muttered Shadow again, as he pushed his way back through the crowd with Jimmy close behind.
“Any comment, Mr Shadow?” shouted the familiar Scottish accent of Kevin MacNab. “Are these deaths connected to Fay Lawton?”
Shadow ignored the journalist and continued on, stony-faced.
*
A few steps past the Minster, where Low Petergate became High Petergate, stood The Snickel Side Inn. The landlord was waiting for them inside. His face was pale, and his hands were shaking as he gripped the large brandy in front of him. He explained that Norman often slept in the snickelway next to the pub that linked Petergate to Precentor’s Court, particularly on wet nights.
Last night, he’d arrived quite early. The landlord could remember him turning up, but couldn’t be sure of the time; however, it was definitely prior to eight o’clock because that’s when the quiz started. At closing time, Norman usually tried to cadge a cigarette or some cash off the last of the customers to leave, but not last night. The landlord had assumed he’d sheltered from the thunderstorm and fallen asleep. When he came to open up this morning, he shouted to Norman to ask if he wanted a cup of tea, as he often did, and when he didn’t reply the landlord went to investigate. That was when he discovered his body.
Shadow thanked the landlord and stepped outside with Jimmy. Then he went to take a look at the body before it was taken away. Like the other two victims, it was hidden in a dark, narrow snickelway off one of the city’s busiest streets. Unlike Fay and Ruth Brooke, however, Norman looked quite peaceful and he was still clutching his almost-empty bottle of vodka tightly to his chest. Two members of the forensics teams were working round him.
Shadow gave a slight smile. “How did you guess?”
*
The two detectives walked along Petergate, towards a large and imposing brick building. It had once been York Ladies’ College. Now on the ground floor, it was an Italian restaurant, La Scuola Femminile, while the upper floors had been converted into luxury apartments. Mad Alice had returned to her usual spot, sitting opposite the restaurant’s entrance. Shadow and Jimmy paused to speak with her. The last time Shadow had met her she had seemed quite coherent. However, this evening she was rocking gently back and forth, as she quietly recited poetry to herself. Shadow bent down to hear what she was saying.
“Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May, and summer’s lease hath all too short a date.”
“Yes, that’s right,” agreed Shadow, evenly, “there’s a storm brewing. Best get yourself undercover.” He pointed to the alleyway behind her, but she didn’t seem to hear him and just continued to smile and sway. Shadow stood up and left her in peace, wondering if it was her earlier encounter with Stather, that had upset her.
*
As they stepped through the doors of La Scuola Femminile, Shadow was greeted warmly by Francesco, the owner.
“How good to see you, my friend! We usually see you on Fridays only. I have a table right here for you.”
He led the two men through to the dining room and to a window table for two, looking out over Petergate.
“I thought we were here for work, Chief?” whispered Jimmy, uncomfortably.
“There’s no rule that says we can’t eat and work at the same time,” replied Shadow as he briefly glanced through the menu.
“I’m not hungry, sir—I had a burger on the way over.”
Shadow tutted disapprovingly and turned to the hovering Francesco. “A mineral water for him please, Francesco, and I’ll have a large glass of Grillo. To eat make it the gamberoni mari e monti followed by the branzino zafferano.”
“Excellent choice!” exclaimed the Italian, before disappearing into the kitchen.
“I didn’t know you could speak Italian, sir,” said Jimmy.
“I’m afraid that’s only one of many things you don’t know, Sergeant Chang. For example, you also didn’t know that the room we now sit in was once the school hall, where a young Emma Harrison and Susie Slater would have attended assembly each morning.”
“Really, this used to be a school?”
“Yes, did the name not give it away?”
Jimmy shook his head looking confused.
Shadow sighed in despair and continued, “It was the York Ladies’ College, an establishment dedicated to the education of our city’s finest young females.”
Jimmy looked around him, taking in the Victorian tiled floor, the high ceilings and the wood-panelled walls covered in many black-and-white photographs of sports teams and musical ensembles.
“It looks nothing like my old school.”
Just then Francesco reappeared with the drinks and Shadow’s prawns.
“Ah, Francesco, I was explaining to Sergeant Chang here, that this used to be a school.”
“Yes, that’s right. My father bought the place, maybe twenty-five years ago. It was still full of all the old junk when we took over. Some of it we kept—” he gestured towards the trophies on the mantelpiece and lacrosse sticks hanging from the ceiling “—but it took us weeks to clear the rest. When we were finally ready to open, my father asked Susie Slater, the famous singer, to cut the ribbon. She had been a pupil.”
“I don’t suppose you have any old photos of her from when she was here?” asked Shadow, his mouth already half full of prawns.
“Yes, certainly we do—they are in the ladies’ cloakroom. I remember Susie made a joke of it at the time. She was a nice lady. I could send Lucia in to get them for you?” offered Francesco, as he turned to leave.
“No that’s fine, Sergeant Chang can go,” insisted Shadow.
Jimmy looked horrified. “Chief! What if someone’s in there?”
“It’ll be fine. Just show them your warrant card.”
Reluctantly, Jimmy got up and self-consciously walked towards the ladies’ toilets, leaving his boss to enjoy his starter.
*
Shadow had just swallowed the last prawn, when Jimmy returned still looking sheepish and carrying several framed photographs under his arm. He slipped back into his chair and gave a relieved sigh.
“I found three with Susie in. You know she was really easy to spot. She hasn’t changed that much.”
Francesco hurried to clear the table, so the photographs could be laid out. The first showed the first eleven hockey team. Emma was sat in the middle as captain and Susie was standing on the back row. Shadow tapped his finger on the picture.
“That’s Emma,” he told Jimmy.
“Wow, she really was stunning. What a waste.”
Shadow pushed his glasses on his nose and peered more closely at the photos. The second one was a class photo, showing twenty girls lined up in three rows, with a stern-looking, grey-haired woman in the middle of the front row and another younger woman next to her. The names of everyone were neatly printed below. Susie and Emma were standing next to each other in the middle row. The stern, older woman was Miss Robertshaw and the younger one Miss Brooke. The third photo was a less-staged image. Susie and Emma were being presented with a trophy for, according to the caption, winning the Yorkshire Ladies’ Rowing Championship, but it wasn’t the silverware Shadow was interested in, but the clearer image of a smiling and clapping Miss Brooke.
“It’s her!” he exclaimed.
“Who?” asked Jimmy.
“Mad Alice!”
“Are you sure, sir?” Jimmy leaned forward and studied the two photographs more carefully.
“Definitely. Imagine her with grey hair and a bit thinner.”
It was true. The delicate birdlike features and the shy, slightly nervous smile were unmistakable. Both men automatically looked out of the window, across the street to the narrow entrance of Mad Alice Lane, but she was nowhere to be seen. In fact, the whole street was unusually quiet. The sky had grown very dark and there was an ominous rumble of thunder in the distance. At the same time, the first few heavy drops of rain began to streak down the window.
“Maybe she used to be an English teacher and that’s why she’s always reciting poetry. Do you want me to go out and try to find her, sir?” Jimmy offered, but Shadow shook his head.
“No, leave her be. She’s probably asleep by now anyway. We can talk to her in the morning. Hopefully, she’ll be making more sense by then too.”
Their view was suddenly blocked by a ghost tour, huddled under umbrellas, stopping outside their window. At the same time, Francesco arrived with the sea bass.
“Do any of the old teachers ever come in, Francesco?” enquired Shadow.
“No, sometimes students, old girls they call themselves, but not any teachers. Most must be very old or dead now. There is still Miss Hall, of course.”
“Who’s that?” asked Jimmy, as Shadow was already too absorbed with eating to continue the conversation.
“The old headmistress,” explained Francesco, “she must be nearly ninety now. She lived in one of the apartments upstairs and used to visit us from time to time. She liked to eat in the small dining room at the back; it had been her office. A few years ago, she moved out to Bishopthorpe, to a retirement home.” He shook his head, sadly. “The poor lady had no family. I haven’t seen her since she moved. Who knows, maybe she passed away.”
Francesco made the sign of the cross before hurrying back into the kitchen. Shadow continued tucking into his fish enthusiastically, while Jimmy sipped his water thoughtfully.
“Why do you think Mad Alice, sorry I mean Miss Brooke, came back to York?” he asked.
Shadow shrugged.
“What do you think sent her loopy? Something that happened here?”
Shadow shrugged again.
Jimmy persisted. “Do you think Susie recognised her? She’s pretty involved with most of the homeless in the city, but Miss Brooke wasn’t at the soup kitchen tonight, was she?”
Shadow gave in. His sergeant clearly had no respect for a man when he was eating. Reluctantly, he lowered his knife and fork. “No, she wasn’t, but earlier I saw her talking to Dr Stather down by the river. They looked fairly animated and I don’t think it was the first time they had met.”
Jimmy’s eyes widened. “What do you think they were talking about?”
“I’ve no idea. Now go and put those photos back where they belong and let me finish my dinner in peace.”
*
By the time the two men left the restaurant, the heavens had definitely opened, and raindrops were pounding rapidly down on to the pavement. They wished each other goodnight and Jimmy dashed around the corner, home to Goodramgate. Shadow turned up his collar and hurried back across the square and down Shambles, which was now eerily empty. He paused for a second outside the Angelique Boutique.
There was still a light on inside. When Shadow peered through the window, he could see Mandy and Cristina inside. Cristina was wearing a long red evening dress. She was standing with her hands on her hips and looking at her reflection in a mirror, while Mandy stood watching with folded arms, her expression impossible to read. Shadow was the first to admit he was no fashion expert, but he doubted Cristina was the boutique’s usual type of customer. Both women turned their heads towards the corner of the room and Shadow guessed there was someone else present, but he couldn’t see who. There was another rumble of thunder and a cold trickle of rain ran down his neck. He shivered and hurried on his way before either woman saw him.
Chapter Five
Across 10 (7 letters)
Getting the wrong idea in NYC can be deadly
That night Shadow lay in his bed unable to sleep. He didn’t know whether to blame his late-night snack of the half-eaten Stilton that had been lingering in the fridge, or his noisy neighbours. The geese who lived on the riverbank must have been excited by the earlier rain and were still honking loudly, long after the storm was over. He rearranged his pillows and closed his eyes again, but thoughts about the case kept jostling for prominence in his mind.
When he’d first moved back to York from London, he’d liked the way his home city had such a small-town feel, with everyone knowing everyone else. Right now, he found it claustrophobic. It was unsettling the way each person’s life seemed to be entwined with the next person he met. The deaths of two young women, Fay and Emma, over thirty years apart, felt somehow connected. He couldn’t see how, after all Emma must have been dead for years before Fay was even born, but it was just a feeling he had. A feeling that was keeping him awake. In the distance, he heard the bells of the Minster chime five. It was pointless to try and sleep now; he may as well get up.
Half an hour later, he was showered, dressed and walking along the towpath. He passed the geese, who were now quiet and huddled together, sleeping peacefully. The old bonding warehouses, now converted into apartments, were all in darkness. The inky-black night sky was slowly turning a pale grey and a gentle mist was rising from the river. A cool breeze carried the scent of cocoa across the city, from the chocolate factory in the north. As he walked over Skeldergate Bridge, Shadow spotted two figures in sleeping bags huddled on the benches in the park below. He counted at least a dozen more similar figures in doorways as he wandered along Coppergate, Stonebow and Colliergate. The edges of the cardboard they slept on were dark and sodden from the heavy rain.
When he arrived back on Goodramgate, he paused at the spot where Fay had been found. Several bunches of flowers had been laid there in tribute. He knelt down and pulled out his glasses from his top pocket, so he could read the accompanying cards.
‘Rest in Peace, Fay. You will always be in our hearts. With love from Luke, Susie and all your friends at The Haven.’
‘Sleep with the Angels, sweet girl. Love from Cristina.’
‘Riposare in pace—Gino and all at Catania’s.’
Shadow straightened up with difficultly and removed his glasses to rub his eyes. The sound of someone tapping on the glass behind him made him turn around. Gino was at the window of the restaurant and motioned for Shadow to come to the door. The two men knew each other well, as Catania’s was another of Shadow’s favourite Italian restaurants. They shook hands warmly and Gino handed the inspector an espresso.
“You are up early, my friend.”
Shadow nodded as he sipped the coffee gratefully.
“I had a lot on my mind. How about you?”
“I’m waiting for a delivery of fish,” Gino explained. “We closed yesterday out of respect for the unfortunate young girl, but today we must open. You understand?” He looked apologetic. Shadow smiled at him reassuringly.
“Of course. It was a kind gesture of you not to open.”
“I wish there was something more we could have done. Maria and I weren’t working that night—maybe if we had seen her, we could have helped. Maria has taken it badly. She is at mass right now.”
Maria was Gino’s wife. She was a small, fiery Sicilian and very religious.
“Who was working on Sunday night?”
“It was quiet by the end of the evening, so at closing time it was only Pepe—our manager—a chef and a young waitress. Your sergeant spoke to them all. They left after eleven, by the kitchen door at the back and went through Bedern, not Goodramgate. They said they didn’t see anything.”
Shadow drank down his coffee and waved Gino goodbye. The sun was up now, casting a warm golden glow on the pale cream stone of the Minster. He continued on his way past the great cathedral, deep in thought, and came to a stop outside St Wilfrid’s, one of the city’s few Catholic churches. Standing in the shadow of the Minster, it was dwarfed by its Anglican neighbour. He pushed open the heavy wooden door and stepped inside. There was a strong smell of incense and furniture polish. Down by the altar, a priest was conducting a quiet mass for a congregation of seven. Shadow could make out the figure of Gino’s wife, Maria, her dark head bent in prayer.
Although not a religious man, at various times in his life Shadow had found the traditions of the church reassuring. Quietly, he made his way to a metal stand in the corner. Silently, he lit three candles, stood for a moment, then left as quickly as he’d arrived.
As he stepped outside and began walking towards Petergate, it occurred to him that Fay had probably been shown more kindness and respect in death, than she had in life. Both Fay and Emma had been called ‘friend’ by Susie Slater and both had died as teenagers. Was Jake right? Could Susie have been the target? Did somebody blame her for Emma’s death?
Before he knew it, he found himself next to the entrance to Mad Alice Lane. Was it too early to wake her? Would she even understand his questions, or be able to answer them? The last thing he wanted to do was upset her. He ducked his head under the entrance and took a few steps towards the body curled up on the velvet cushion. He gave a small cough and whispered, “Good morning.” There was no response. He spoke again, a little louder, not wanting to startle her. “Good morning, Miss Brooke.” He took another step towards her and reached out to touch her small, pale hand. To his horror, it was cold and lifeless. As he looked closer lying next to the body was a bottle of Holy Cow vodka.
*
Clutching a large takeaway coffee, Jimmy pushed his way through uniformed officers and forensics teams, while trying to dodge the crowd of complaining delivery drivers and business owners, who were being barred from getting on with their work. Shadow watched him approach as he sat alone on the steps of La Scuola Femminile, quietly sipping a cappuccino Francesco had brought out for him. He was silently berating himself. Instead of wasting time trying to find a connection between Fay and Emma, he should have been focused on who wanted to poison these poor souls sleeping on the streets. He drained his cup as his sergeant reached him.
“Sir, another body’s been found,” Jimmy said, urgently.
Shadow slowly raised his head. “For crying out loud, Jimmy, I know! It was me who found her.”
“No, sir, not Mad Alice, I mean Miss Brooke. It’s Norman.”
Shadow paused for a second and then set his cup down and hauled himself up. “Where is he?”
“He was found in the alley next to The Snickel Side Inn. The landlord found him when he opened up this morning.”
“Any chance it’s natural causes?”
“I doubt it, sir. He was found with a half-empty bottle of Holy Cow.”
“For crying out loud,” muttered Shadow again, as he pushed his way back through the crowd with Jimmy close behind.
“Any comment, Mr Shadow?” shouted the familiar Scottish accent of Kevin MacNab. “Are these deaths connected to Fay Lawton?”
Shadow ignored the journalist and continued on, stony-faced.
*
A few steps past the Minster, where Low Petergate became High Petergate, stood The Snickel Side Inn. The landlord was waiting for them inside. His face was pale, and his hands were shaking as he gripped the large brandy in front of him. He explained that Norman often slept in the snickelway next to the pub that linked Petergate to Precentor’s Court, particularly on wet nights.
Last night, he’d arrived quite early. The landlord could remember him turning up, but couldn’t be sure of the time; however, it was definitely prior to eight o’clock because that’s when the quiz started. At closing time, Norman usually tried to cadge a cigarette or some cash off the last of the customers to leave, but not last night. The landlord had assumed he’d sheltered from the thunderstorm and fallen asleep. When he came to open up this morning, he shouted to Norman to ask if he wanted a cup of tea, as he often did, and when he didn’t reply the landlord went to investigate. That was when he discovered his body.
Shadow thanked the landlord and stepped outside with Jimmy. Then he went to take a look at the body before it was taken away. Like the other two victims, it was hidden in a dark, narrow snickelway off one of the city’s busiest streets. Unlike Fay and Ruth Brooke, however, Norman looked quite peaceful and he was still clutching his almost-empty bottle of vodka tightly to his chest. Two members of the forensics teams were working round him.
