A Long Shadow, page 9
It was the first time Shadow had heard her express any sympathy for another human being.
“Did you know his parents well?” he enquired.
Mandy’s brittle features softened a little. “Anne Harrison was my first ever customer. She came in on the morning I opened and bought a silk scarf. I remember she wished me luck and said she liked to support local businesses. She was a nice woman, not a big spender, but she called in every few months. Then she lost her girl and was never the same again. Neither of them were. Emma was a lovely girl, absolutely stunning. She was the light of their lives. When she disappeared, well they may as well have died too.”
“But they still had Oliver.”
“Huh, that useless lump?” Mandy’s expression hardened again. “Oliver has always been a wimp. He couldn’t hold a candle to Emma. Everyone knew she was the favourite.”
“So, what happened to the leftover vodka?” Shadow persisted, as Mandy rolled her eyes.
“We drank it.”
“All of it? Can you prove that?”
“No, of course I can’t. Gin’s my normal tipple, but that stuff cost me a small fortune. If you stick it in a Diet Coke, it tastes all right.”
“Just so you know, I’ll be asking for a search warrant for here and your home address, so don’t go anywhere will you, Mrs Morrison.”
“Go anywhere? How dare you? I’ve been here for over thirty years, paying my rent and rates. Paying your wages—and this is how I’m treated.”
Shadow turned to leave. He had no intention of requesting a search warrant, but he was interested in Mandy’s reaction. She was still ranting at him, as he walked out the door.
*
As always, his progress back down the Shambles was slow. He had often thought the city should consider introducing a traffic system for pedestrians. A slow lane for tourists who wanted to take their time—to stop, stare and photograph the city’s treasures—and a fast lane for locals wanting to go about their business. The gnawing feeling in his stomach reminded him that it was almost lunchtime, and that he’d also missed out on his usual breakfast. Bettys would be far too busy now, and as much as he liked the place, he didn’t feel like queuing. Instead he headed back down to the river, picking up a Yorkshire Post on the way. His mood wasn’t improved when he saw in the newsagent’s window, the Herald’s front page proclaiming, ‘Serial Killer On The Streets.’
*
Shadow arrived at The King’s Head a few minutes before twelve, but the unusually sunny weather meant it was already busy. He managed to find an empty seat at a table on the cobbles by the river and ordered a ploughman’s and a pint of Black Sheep. Unfolding his newspaper, he ignored the front page that was running the story about Fay and turned straight to the crossword.
Ten minutes and only five clues later, he was struggling to concentrate. There was something about his visit to the boutique that was bothering him, but he wasn’t sure what. He removed his reading glasses and rubbed his tired eyes. If he looked down the river and squinted, he could almost see Florence beyond the bridge. Maybe he should have bought a sandwich and gone home for lunch. It was too noisy here to think.
A flash of white and pink on the other side of the river suddenly caught his eye. He squinted again. It was Cristina wearing a bright pink top and her platinum-blonde hair glinting in the bright sun. She was walking very quickly along the old path with two men. Shadow thought one of them might be Ryan. Jimmy said he’d been released, but he didn’t recognise the other tall, well-built, bald man. His line of sight was suddenly blocked by the waitress arriving with his lunch and when he looked again, all three had disappeared.
He ate quickly. The laughing and chatting students and tourists seemed to be getting louder by the minute. To make matters worse, he begrudgingly had to share his table with some Australian backpackers. As soon as he’d finished, he went inside to pay the bill. On the bar, next to the till, were a selection of glass jars and bottles with handwritten labels. The barman saw Shadow studying them.
“That’s the pickle you had with your ploughman’s, if you want a jar. The landlord’s wife makes it herself,” he explained, hopefully.
“What’s in the bottles?”
“Damson gin and sloe gin. Would you like a bottle?”
Shadow frowned and shook his head.
“Do you know where she gets them from? The bottles I mean, not the sloes and damsons.”
“I’ll go and ask in the kitchen,” replied the barman, looking a little puzzled. He returned a few moments later.
“She said they’re from Barnitts.”
Shadow thanked him, paid the bill and left. He was sure those bottles were the same as the ones the murderer had put the vodka in and given to the victims, but Barnitts was the most popular homeware store in the city. Unless they kept exact records of who bought what and when, it wasn’t going to be much help. Halfway up the steps from the pub to the bridge, he stopped suddenly. It was the bottles. The thing that had been bothering him since he left the boutique. The white roses on the circular table were in the same glass bottles.
With a sense of relief, he continued on his way, wondering if a visit to Barnitts would be worthwhile, or a waste of time. First though, he would need to find a chemist’s shop. His lunch was already calling out for a new supply of indigestion tablets.
As he was about to cross the road he suddenly stopped. Coming out of the chemist’s opposite was Luke Carrington, closely followed by Oliver Harrison holding a large carrier bag. Luke was talking animatedly on his mobile. Shadow wondered why he was holding the phone in his right hand, but as he turned slightly, he saw his left hand was wrapped in bandages. Oliver, who had been impeccably dressed when Shadow had last seen him, now looked dishevelled to say the least. His jacket was off, his shirt was untucked, and his sleeves were rolled up. Shadow strained his eyes. He was almost certain there were bloodstains on the front of Oliver’s clothes.
He waited and watched the two men walk away. He decided Barnitts and the glass bottles would have to wait.
Chapter Six
Down 2 (10 letters)
By going through the narrow passage, the lackey wins his prize
Susie Slater was perched on the reception desk, wearing a pretty floral sundress when Shadow arrived. She was waiting for him with a bright smile and a cup of freshly brewed coffee.
“Hello, Chief Inspector, goodness what a day you must be having. I thought you might be in need of caffeine?”
She patted him affectionately on the shoulder, as she handed the coffee over.
“You knew I was coming?” asked Shadow in surprise, feeling himself blush slightly.
“Thanks to the all-seeing eye!” Susie pointed to the monitor behind the desk. It showed a grainy, black-and-white image from the front door.
“I don’t suppose it records as well does it?” asked Shadow, thinking back to the night Fay left.
“I’m afraid not. It’s a bit of an antique. I suppose with everything that’s happened we should really get it upgraded.”
“I take it you’ve heard about the two deaths that occurred last night?”
“Yes, it’s so awful. I was only talking to poor old Norman at the soup kitchen last night. It’s such a shame. I know most people thought he was a lost cause, but he was sweet in his own way.” She sighed heavily. “Although, to be quite honest with you, Chief Inspector, as sorry as I am about what happened to Norman and the other lady, I’m more upset to hear you’ve finally found Emma.”
“Who told you?” Shadow asked, although he was certain he already knew the answer.
“Oliver. He phoned us in such a state that we both dashed over to his office. He’s still with Luke now. Those two are really struggling with the news. Even after all these years, I think they both still hoped there was a chance she might come back. Oliver, I know, has always felt guilty.”
“Why should Oliver feel guilty?”
“He and Emma had always been close, but before Em disappeared he’d been quite unkind to her. Emma was really upset about it. I think it was just a bit of sibling rivalry. I’m an only child, so I wouldn’t know, but Ollie’s exam results weren’t all he’d hoped for and their parents were so excited about Em applying to Oxford. It was all their dad could talk about and I…well I just think it got to Ollie.”
Susie paused and took a breath, her eyes bright with tears. “I simply can’t understand it. How did Emma get in the tunnel? Could the current have carried her there? When the river was high, during the floods perhaps?”
Shadow smiled politely but didn’t say that they doubted Emma’s body had ever entered the water. He was more interested in her reaction to recent events.
“I saw Luke earlier. He’s hurt his hand.”
Susie glanced away briefly. For once, she didn’t seem to know what to say. When she turned back to Shadow her usually bright eyes looked tired and dull.
“Yes, did you speak to him?”
“No, he was on the other side of the road, leaving the pharmacy when I saw him,” Shadow explained, and Susie smiled and seemed to relax again.
“Oh, his hand was just a silly accident. He cut it on a broken glass at Ollie’s. He must have been collecting his tablets when you saw him. I expect he will need them more than ever after today’s terrible news. Poor thing!”
“May I ask what tablets he takes?”
“Valium, to help keep him calm, and sleeping tablets. He takes one every night at 10pm on the dot. He’d never cope without them.”
Shadow recalled Luke’s comment about being dead to the world the night Fay was killed.
“Did Oliver also tell you that the homeless lady we found this morning was Ruth Brooke?”
“Who?”
“Ruth Brooke—you may remember her as Miss Brooke.”
Susie wrinkled her forehead for a few seconds. “You mean Miss Brooke the res grad from school? Goodness! What on earth was she doing in York? The last we heard she was down south in a hospital or somewhere? She had a breakdown, you know?”
“Yes, it seems she returned to the city a couple of months ago. You never recognised her or spoke to her? She often sat in Petergate, opposite your old school.”
“No, I’m afraid not, Chief Inspector. I can vaguely recall seeing an older lady there; perhaps I should have approached her, but I never thought it was someone I might know. She never came here or to our soup kitchens.”
“Oliver said Miss Brooke was in Museum Gardens on the day Emma disappeared.”
Susie sighed and brushed her hair away from her eyes. “She was meant to be supervising us, but she wandered off while we were on the river. Neither of us minded her not being there. She was a bit of a dreamer and quite shy, Chief Inspector. The younger girls used to run rings around her. I’m afraid when she did reappear, she wasn’t much use. She just panicked.”
“I see.” Shadow paused. “Oliver Harrison also mentioned you bought some Holy Cow vodka for Mr Carrington’s birthday party.”
Susie rolled her eyes dramatically and groaned. “Oh, what a disaster that was! Luke completely freaked out because it wasn’t vegan!”
“So, what happened to the vodka?” asked Shadow.
Susie gave him a conspiratorial grin and whispered, “I’ve hidden it from Luke in the office. I’m going to wait until September then make bramble vodka and give it as Christmas presents. I’ve already got the bottles and ribbons ready. Hopefully Luke will have forgotten all about it by then. If not, I shall have to try and persuade him it would be a waste not to use it.”
“Would it be possible to see the vodka?”
Susie looked a little taken aback. “Of course. It’s down in my office, in the basement. Can you hold the fort here, Jess?” she called to the girl with bright pink hair, who had been quietly rearranging the leaflets on the noticeboard. Shadow followed Susie through a door and down some steep stone steps into the basement office.
“How did you feel about the petition Mrs Morrison organised, against the soup kitchen? I assume you knew about it?” he asked. Susie glanced over her shoulder.
“Water off a duck’s back to me, Chief Inspector. The world is full of NIMBYs. You should have seen the objections the council received when we wanted to open this place.” She put her hand on the door handle, paused and turned to Shadow. “But now I come to think of it, I mean in the light of what’s happened, perhaps we should have taken the petition more seriously. After all, someone is obviously targeting the homeless. Mr and Mrs Morrison were both very angry last night. Have you spoken to them?”
“Don’t worry, Miss Slater, we are looking at the petition and those who signed it.”
“Of course, you are, Chief Inspector, and I told you, please call me Susie.”
She pushed open the door. The office was a messy, chaotic room with piles of papers and potted plants covering two desks. The fluorescent light flickered unreliably and there was a slight draught coming from the partly open window, overlooking the yard. Susie followed Shadow’s gaze.
“Luke’s been promising to fix it for ages, but DIY isn’t really his thing,” she explained, as she rattled a key in the lock of a tall, thin, metal cupboard. She opened it with difficulty and then knelt down and began rummaging on the bottom shelf.
“Ah here it is, Chief Inspector,” she said, triumphantly, as she pulled out a white box still sealed with the Bacchus-branded tape.
“Let me open it for you,” she offered, grabbing a pair of large scissors from the desk. She sliced through the tape and opened the box, showing Shadow the neatly packed miniature bottles inside. “All present and correct.” She picked out two bottles and handed one to Shadow. She opened hers and with a sad smile, said quietly, “Let’s drink to absent friends!” She gently tapped her bottle against Shadow’s, then took a long swig. Shadow opened his bottle a little more cautiously and took a sniff. It was definitely vodka, so returning her smile, he raised his bottle too.
“To absent friends!”
*
When he returned to the station, Shadow found Jimmy sitting in front of his laptop. His long dark fringe had flopped over his eyes as he stared intently at the screen. He was tapping the image with the end of his pen as he counted out loud. Shadow stood behind him and cleared his throat loudly. Jimmy turned around looking startled.
“Sorry, Chief, I was concentrating on last night’s CCTV footage,” he apologised.
“So, I see,” said Shadow. “What have you got?”
“Lots to report,” replied Jimmy eagerly reaching for his digital notebook.
“Right, well bring that and that—” Shadow pointed to the laptop and notebook “—to my office. I’m going to get a cup of tea from the canteen.” The vodka had left a nasty aftertaste in his mouth. He was almost out of the door before he thought to turn around.
“Do you want anything?” he asked.
Jimmy, who was a bit of a coffee aficionado, pulled a face and shook his head. “No thanks, Chief. Not from the canteen.”
“Please yourself,” muttered Shadow.
A few moments later, Shadow returned carrying a cup of tea that he had to admit did resemble dishwater. He found Jimmy, notebook and laptop in hand, waiting patiently outside his office.
“You could have gone in you know, Sergeant?” he said, pushing the door open and flicking on the lights. His office was even more sparsely furnished than Florence. Although he’d moved in over fifteen years ago when he was promoted to chief inspector, there were no photos, plants or even a calendar on the wall. The only personal effects in his desk drawers were a few old copies of The Yorkshire Post, with unfinished crosswords and a half-empty packet of indigestion tablets.
“Sorry, Chief. Like I said, quite a lot to report,” said Jimmy enthusiastically, as he followed his boss inside.
Shadow flopped wearily into his chair and motioned for Jimmy to sit opposite him. “Well off you go then.”
Jimmy opened up his laptop and entered the code on his notebook, ignoring Shadow’s loud, deliberate sigh.
“Firstly, we had to let Morrison go. He had an alibi. He said after the soup kitchen was over, he went straight to Ted’s bar and sank more than a few pints there.”
“Could anyone back him up?”
“Oh yes, Ted was falling over himself to assure us Eric was there all night.”
“I see.” Shadow raised an eyebrow. In his experience, Ted rarely helped anyone unless there was something in it for him. “What’s next?”
“I managed to trace the last hospital where Ruth Brooke was treated. She had no next of kin, by the way. Oh, and nor does Norman, but I think we probably knew that already. The doctor at Ruth’s hospital said she was discharged three months ago. She had been responding well to treatment and he had no idea she was planning on returning to York. From his records, he said in the past whenever this city or her time here was mentioned, Ruth became distressed or sometimes even had a relapse. However, according to her records, she never gave any further details about what happened on the day Emma disappeared.”
“Anything else?”
“The chief constable has been on. She said she’s due to make a statement to the press. Three unexplained deaths in York is a big deal, so she wants an update from you.”
Shadow frowned. He tried to avoid the chief constable at all costs. Fortunately, she was based out at the county headquarters in Northallerton, so their paths didn’t often cross.
“Any good news?”
“Sort of. I’ve managed to access the CCTV that covers Petergate for last night—that’s what I was looking at before—and Sophie has narrowed down the time of death to between eight and nine last night.”
“That’s about the time we left the restaurant, when the storm started. Did you see anything on the CCTV?”
“I think so. Let me show you.” He tapped on the laptop’s keyboard while Shadow took a sip of tea, then put his glasses on. They both squinted at the slightly blurred images on the screen. Shadow saw they were looking at Petergate early yesterday evening. It was thronged with tourists and shoppers. He also spotted a few from the soup kitchen too, volunteers as well as those wanting to be fed.
