The Reach of Shadows Page 3

  Jade Coleman had lived in a quiet neighbourhood, but her sharp cry and the scuffle that ended her life appeared to have been overheard, so Bliss was already thinking that witnesses would be crucial during the early stages of this operation. As if they had been waiting to snag his attention at the most appropriate moment, the horizontal blinds rustled and flapped. The movement indicated that the window behind them was open, which was unsurprising given the hot day. It explained why the sounds emitting from the room were overheard.

  As PC Virgil had described, the victim’s hands were tied to the wrought-iron bedframe. Bliss noted the use of two leather belts. One was white, the other a pale blue. Neither looked long, both appeared more feminine than masculine, and Bliss was confident they had belonged to the murdered woman.

  There was no sign of the weapon. Neither he nor Chandler had carried out a search in any shape or form, and it was possible that the knife was still in the room, perhaps beneath the bed or lying somewhere within the creases in the jumble of bedclothes.

  ‘Check the kitchen will you please, Pen,’ Bliss said to his partner. ‘See if there’s a knife rack with a blade missing. Or a cutlery draw lacking a carving or chopping knife.’

  Chandler edged back out of the bedroom without comment. She would understand as well as he did that if the knife that caused Coleman’s fatal wounds was part of her own set, then making a case for premeditated murder would become that much more difficult. On the other hand, if the killer brought it with them, then it was considered a weapon and all bets were off. Bliss would insist they make the murder charge stick in that case.

  His mood had become sombre. The earlier gallows humour was history, the time for hard thinking and deduction having taken precedence. Bliss took another sweep of the room and smiled sadly. This supposedly safe space was a physical part of her life, that their victim had put time and effort into: the pastel shades accented with highlights of colour, mostly raspberry in tone; the frills on the linen cloth that ran the length of the dressing table; the matching jars, pots and vases with paper flowers inside them. A tall bookcase overflowed with both hardback and paperback novels, ranging from Jo Watson and Jojo Moyes, to fantasy fiction by the likes of Neil Gaiman and Philip Pullman. Bliss knew little of Jade Coleman’s life, but he got the sense that this was where she allowed herself time and space in which to relax. That her life was taken from her in this very same room was immeasurably sad, and was the poignant note Bliss often experienced during an investigation.

  ‘There’s a magnetic strip screwed to the kitchen wall,’ Chandler said from the doorway. When he turned, she nodded at Bliss with the kind of resigned expression he had seen on her face all too often. ‘There are two small knives for peeling or chopping, a breadknife, and space for one more. I’m guessing a decent-sized carving knife. I had a look in the drawers and sink, but there’s no sign of one anywhere else.’

  ‘Dishwasher?’

  Chandler shook her head.

  ‘Thanks. I guess that means we’ll have to work twice as hard.’

  Chandler nodded towards the bed and their victim. ‘She put up a fight. From the look of those wounds on her right hand she may even have been the one to snatch up the knife first. If so, she might have cut her attacker during the struggle. Some of that blood over there could be his.’

  ‘Yeah. What’s the chances of us getting a DNA match after weeks of waiting for the results?’

  Bliss could recall only a handful of his own investigations where DNA had proved to be the difference in obtaining a guilty verdict. And of those, all but one had been cold cases. Chandler did not respond, and he had not expected her to. The failings of a creaking system were all too familiar and thoroughly depressing.

  ‘Come on,’ he said. ‘The house can wait, and the dead will have their time. Let’s speak to the living.’

  When they re-emerged back into the sunlight, the crime scene investigators and forensics teams had rolled up. They were busy pulling on their protective suits. Bliss caught the eye of the scene manager, a civilian by the name of Brian Finnegan. They each nodded a greeting. Chandler waved a hand. Standing on the grass out of the way of anyone who wished to enter the bungalow, Bliss summoned over PC Virgil with a flutter of fingers.

  ‘What do you know about who called it in?’ he asked the enthusiastic uniform.

  ‘All we got at first was that a “neighbour” had rung in, sir. As soon as we knew what we had here I got back on comms and asked for further details. I have a number and address, which is one door down to the left of this building.’

  Bliss turned to glance along the street. The call had come from across the alleyway that divided the semi-detached properties. He swivelled another few degrees and saw that only the upper section of the small two-piece window in Jade’s bedroom was open, caught on its security latch. Enough to provide an air flow, not enough to attract would-be burglars. If the neighbour also had their windows open at the time – which was likely given the weather – then it was certainly possible for them to have heard whatever took place inside their victim’s bedroom.

  ‘Are they at home now?’ Bliss asked Virgil. He had noticed that the windows to the front of the neighbouring property were closed.

  ‘I don’t believe so, sir. As I understand it, they were asked to remain at home for us to speak to, but said they were going out shopping.’

  ‘Well, can’t let a little thing like murder ruin their entire weekend, can we, Constable?’

  ‘I didn’t see them leave, sir. To be fair, they may already have gone out by the time we arrived. I suppose I ought to have secured them as soon as I called in the scene.’

  Virgil looked distressed, but Bliss shook his head. ‘Don’t worry about it. You had a crime scene, and that was your first priority. It’s always nice to speak to witnesses when the incident is still fresh in their minds, but we can’t compel them to hang around. If they want to report a scuffle and a scream and then bugger off to IKEA, there really isn’t a great deal we can do about it.’

  ‘Who do you want me to call in, boss?’ Chandler asked.

  Bliss took a look around at the street and neighbouring properties. The crowd had not thinned, and several people were raising their voices at the uniforms who stood by the flimsy strips of tape barring the way, demanding to know what was going on.

  ‘Everyone,’ he told her. ‘I’ll want Bishop and Short inside the property following up in CSI’s slipstream. Everyone else, plus half a dozen uniforms in pairs doing the canvas. Have Carmichael take charge of that. Tell him his first job is to get these people back inside their own properties in preparation to be spoken to.’

  ‘Ian is on secondment, boss. Remember?’

  He had a vague memory of DC Carmichael requesting a temporary attachment elsewhere, but recent events were still a little fuzzy around the edges.

  ‘Well, then whoever we have spare. This is a murder scene, not a bloody carnival attraction.’

  Clutching a hand to his chest where, if the pain was any indication, one of his damaged ribs now appeared to be ripping its way through his flesh, Bliss paused to draw breath. Beads of sweat dotted his forehead, and he was starting to feel a little light-headed. He suspected dehydration.

  ‘Also, arrange for at least two uniforms to walk this area. I want to identify every way in and out. Canvas questions to include any sighting of any person or any vehicle that doesn’t belong in this street, not just today but going back a month or so. And please see if anyone has got a bottle of water they can spare.’

  Leaving his partner to it, he turned back to the two officers who had secured the scene. ‘Can either of you two think why this call-out may have warranted special attention?’ he asked. He took a few deep breaths and took a bite into his bottom lip. As human scaffolding went, ribs were fragile little bastards. ‘By that I mean, we were summoned here with greater urgency than even a murder like this would usually warrant. I wondered if you had implied anything untoward when you called it in, or anyone
had suggested something to you two when you made the call.’

  Virgil shook his head immediately, but his colleague, Irwin, gave it a moment of thought before responding. ‘Nothing that was said exactly, sir. But I think I might know why this received an urgent response.’

  ‘Don’t keep it to yourself, Constable,’ Bliss encouraged him.

  ‘Well, sir, what PC Virgil is unaware of is that this address would have raised a flag.’

  ‘In what way?’ Bliss’s curiosity was dialled all the way up to eleven at this point.

  ‘Because Miss Coleman had previously reported having a stalker, sir.’

  Bliss closed his eyes for a moment. He tried not to wonder whether the day could get worse, because usually that was the precursor to it becoming just that. But the question was out there, spinning around inside his head.

  ‘A stalker. And our victim was spoken to, and by that, I mean interviewed formally?’

  ‘Yes, sir.’

  ‘By uniform? Locally?’

  Irwin gave a nod that was more sheepish than regretful. ‘I wasn’t involved. I only know about it because it was part of a morning briefing we were given a few weeks back. I remembered the name and address, sir.’

  ‘So our murder victim, now stabbed to death in her own bedroom, reported a stalker and all she received in return was an interview with a uniform and a few words over a full-scale briefing?’

  ‘Yes, sir. Well, actually, no, sir. Not quite.’

  Bliss closed his eyes again and blew out a frustrated sigh. This was where the day really turned to shit. ‘What do you mean, Irwin? What did I not mention?’

  ‘Miss Coleman was also spoken to by two detectives, sir. From Thorpe Wood.’

  Chandler appeared as if from nowhere. She handed Bliss an uncapped bottle of spring water and two painkillers already set free of their bubbled casings. He swallowed them down and guzzled back half the cold water in three enormous gulps.

  ‘You all right, boss?’ she asked him.

  Bliss shook his head. ‘You know that scene in Jaws where the shark first appears, and Chief Brody turns to the skipper who hadn’t laid eyes on it?’

  ‘Ye-es?’

  ‘Well, I think maybe we’re going to need a bigger boat.’

  Chapter 4

  Having returned inside to assess the crime scene more fully, Bliss then hobbled back out of the bungalow to greet the team as they arrived at the scene. He was not exactly expecting a hero’s welcome. After all, not only had he not apprehended the figure who had been snooping around inside his back garden, he’d also been stupid enough to run in front of probably the only car on the road at that time of morning. And he had done so wearing nothing more than jockey shorts, a dressing gown and a cold sweat. Even so, he had expected his appearance to warrant more than a casual nod as his colleagues passed by.

  Those who did not immediately enter the property stood in a small group to the left of the front door, speaking in low voices as the workload was divvied up. Having pretty much ignored him as they approached the victim’s home, his colleagues continued to do so as Bliss stood and glared at them.

  He said nothing. He now had a reputation as one of life’s great internal fumers. It was a technique he had mastered over a dozen years or more, and for him it beat the volatile explosions of his past. Conquering his temper was an on-going project, but he had made great strides in the right direction. Still, he was finding it hard holding back his annoyance. While a ticker-tape parade in his honour might have been overdoing things, the odd verbal greeting and an enquiry or two as to his condition would not have gone amiss.

  Fuck you all, Bliss thought.

  He shook his head with obvious displeasure, then moved as swiftly as possible back to Chandler’s car. Still blinded by anger at both his colleagues for snubbing him and himself for reacting to it, Bliss yanked the passenger door open only to be confronted by himself.

  That was, himself as depicted in a caricature impression flying through the air wearing only a pair of Y-fronts, a cape, and a completely bamboozled expression on his face. The cut-out board stood about three feet high and had been securely buckled into the seat, with an A4-sized note affixed to the front spelling out, ‘Our Fearless Leader Cheats Death Once Again’.

  He heard the laughter before turning back to his team, who now stood in a single line watching him, clearly enjoying his reaction.

  ‘You bastards!’ Bliss could not keep the smile from his lips, but it felt good snapping at them all the same. ‘You complete and utter bastards. Are you all going to cough to this, or was it one of you in particular?’

  ‘I confess, boss,’ DS Bishop said. ‘But society is to blame.’

  DS Short stepped forward and said, ‘I’m Spartacus as well, boss.’

  Hunt moved alongside her. ‘I’m Brian, and so’s my wife,’ the detective constable said, offering his widest toothy smile.

  The line from Python’s Life of Brian was always worth a chuckle, but Bliss thought he’d had enough film references for one day. He raised a finger to admonish the whole group.

  ‘You’re still bastards. Every single one of you. But thank you. Even if that snort of laughter I gave just now did cause my busted rib to shred even more torn flesh.’

  ‘Gul’s the one with the artistic flair, boss,’ Bishop revealed. ‘Maybe you ought to blame her.’

  ‘Oh, believe me, DC Ansari will pay for this. Where is she?’

  ‘Court, boss. I left a message for her to join us as soon as she’s free.’

  Chandler freed herself from the group of uniforms tasked with searching the area for potential routes in and out of the property and wandered over to the car. Her face radiated delight at him having encountered his cartoon superhero image.

  ‘You knew all about this, I take it,’ he said. They both understood it was an accusation, not a question.

  His partner feigned shock. Badly. Hand to her chest she said, ‘Me, boss? No, boss. I had absolutely no idea, boss.’

  Bliss narrowed his gaze. ‘They wouldn’t have been expecting me to be here at the crime scene. My little surprise would have been waiting for me in my office, probably sitting there in my seat. You told them to bring it with them.’

  ‘I think you’ll find that is what’s known as circumstantial evidence. Good luck proving it.’

  They got back into the car and took off, Bliss having relocated his welcome back gift onto the back seat. He assumed Chandler was now driving him home. But, as she dropped back off the parkway, his partner explained that DCI Edwards had called her while Bliss was busy taking a look around the interior of the bungalow.

  ‘She wants a quick chat. No more than ten minutes. Then you are to go home and put your feet up. For the rest of the day.’ The final sentence was said with a notable lack of enthusiasm.

  ‘So I get an entire half day to convalesce. I am honoured.’

  ‘I know. I couldn’t believe it when she said that. You don’t have to listen to her, boss. You’re entitled to sick leave. You could ignore her and take it. Take the two weeks your doctor friend offered.’

  He shook his head. ‘Let’s just get it over with. I’m tired of all the games. Tired of all the nit-picking. Basically, I’m just bloody tired.’

  ‘Well, you were knocked down by a car, boss.’

  ‘I was indeed. On the whole, I don’t recommend it, Pen.’

  ‘And I don’t recommend chasing someone around the streets while almost naked, but I hear some men will do anything for attention.’

  Bliss smiled at her. Chandler always had to have the last word.

  Back at HQ, she remained in the car rather than hunt for a parking space. His breathing laboured, stride shortened, Bliss took the lift up to the second floor. Normally he used the stairs, but today they would not be his friend. He found Edwards in her office, door open. He knocked anyway.

  She motioned him in, then got up to close the door behind him. He levered himself into the chair opposite her desk, barely managing to
contain a groan as the ribs reminded him they were unhappy.

  ‘Thank you for stopping by,’ Edwards said, as if he’d had any choice in the matter. She retook her own seat. ‘How are you doing?’

  ‘About as well as you’d expect, I suppose. Possibly better, considering how bad it could have been.’

  ‘Indeed. I know about the rib damage and concussion, of course. The abrasions on your face look sore, too.’

  He was aware of them, having taken a casual look in the mirror when brushing his teeth that morning. He had also showered, but the simple act of cleaning his teeth took so much out of him that he had chosen not to shave. There were a good few days of stubble to cover up the worst of the damage to his cheeks and chin. The raw friction wounds to his nose and forehead were left uncovered to allow them to breathe and heal more quickly, and some antiseptic ointment soothed and protected them well enough.

  ‘I’ll try not to scare any members of the public I happen to encounter,’ Bliss said, laughing it off. Other than the ribs, the worst wound was to his pride. He could only imagine what he must have looked like splayed out on that road.

  ‘Well, you take it easy later on, and tomorrow I’ll have you on lighter duties for just a few hours.’

  ‘How so?’

  The DCI’s features took on a worried edge. ‘I need you to intervene in something that might later become a problem. When the call came in about this poor victim over in New England, it came with a red flag warning. Not only was the victim listed on the files of the stalker task force, but she was actually interviewed by two of our own.’

  Bliss nodded. ‘So I heard. How did that occur?’

  Edwards blew out her cheeks. ‘One of those days that conspires against you, Bliss. For a variety of reasons, including court attendance, holidays, sickness and training commitments, the task force was short-staffed. They asked to borrow two DCs, so I loaned them Hunt and Ansari. This was while you were on holiday, as I recall.’