Shrine to Murder (8 page)

Angel
continued eating the scrambled eggs.

She
was pleased that he was enjoying the makeshift meal. She sat in her chair the other side of the library table. ‘What’s happened, then?’ she said.

‘
Nothing,’ he said munching the last piece of toast.

‘
You’re surely not late for no reason?’

‘
No, love.’ He hesitated before he replied. He didn’t want to alarm her unnecessarily. She would
have
to be told. He chewed and chewed then swallowed the last forkful of egg, then said, ‘We’ve got a serial murderer, Mary. The same MO in the case of two deaths and there’s the prospect of a further four more…unless we can catch him.’

Mary
’s face changed. Her mouth dropped open. A cold shiver ran up her back. ‘Oh, Michael,’ she said. ‘How dreadful. You will be careful, won’t you?’

*

It was 08.45 hours Thursday, 28 May, and Angel and his team were in the CID briefing room. Dr Mac was also there.

Angel
was delivering a résumé of the two murder cases.

‘
DS Taylor advises us that as far as the scene is concerned,’ Angel said, ‘the murderer has shown himself to be forensically aware and, up to now, has left behind no clues that can be used to reveal his identity. Having said that, Dr Mac has found hairs on the body of Luke Redman which do not belong to him, and we are awaiting a DNA result from the lab at Wetherby. In the meantime, there are unusual questions to be addressed, such as why Ronnie Striker, a man who has a mental age of a 12-year-old, says that he saw Jesus on his knees at the side of Ingrid Underwood, and why the murderer apparently left a lone laurel leaf with the body of each victim.

‘
We have to work fast to make sure that the murderer doesn’t strike for the third time. The matter paramount to the investigation now is to find the link between Luke Redman and Ingrid Underwood, and that is where our attention must be urgently directed. Any questions?’

A
voice from the back said, ‘From the wounds on both victims as described by Dr Mac, the murderer would be heavily marked with blood. Would the clothing thought to make the murderer look like Jesus be actually a sheet to save his own clothing being bloodstained underneath?’

Angel
nodded. ‘Could be. It’s a valid suggestion that we must seriously consider, but it doesn’t explain the sandals and the white star in Jesus’s hand that Ronnie Striker says he saw.’

‘
There was a man in the market who has had bedsheets stolen from his stall, sir,’ Crisp said.

‘
Must be followed up,’ Angel said. ‘I’ll leave that with you, Trevor, but our priority at this juncture has to be to find the link between Luke Redman and Ingrid Underwood. That would hopefully lead to avoiding any of the four other deaths the murderer has threatened.’

‘
If it was a sheet, sir,’ the voice at the back said, ‘the murderer would need to destroy the bloodstained sheet, wouldn’t he? The thorough murderer would burn or bury it. There’s no other absolute way.’

‘
That’s right,’ Angel said.

‘
I was thinking that recently turned-over earth or a fire somewhere -’

‘
That’s right, and if anybody comes across such indications in the course of their inquiries, they should follow it up. But, I bring you all back to it, nothing is more important than finding that link. Anything else?’

‘
A laurel leaf wreath is, of course, made of laurel leaves, sir,’ Carter said. ‘And a laurel wreath is what they used to hang round racing drivers who have won the Grand Prix, and statues of famous men on their anniversaries and so on. Is there a link between some famous race or event and the two victims?’

Angel
nodded. ‘I don’t know, lass. Can’t think of anything off hand. That’s what we have to find out.’ He looked up and across the eager faces. ‘Anything else?’

Nobody
seemed to have anything more to say.

‘
Right,’ Angel said. ‘Thank you all very much. Please carry on. Will DS Carter and DS Crisp and DC Scrivens see me in my office straightaway?’

Chapter Six

‘Come in, all of you,’ Angel said. ‘Shut the door. I see you’ve met DS Carter.’

Scrivens
said, ‘Yes, sir.’

Crisp
grinned. ‘Yes, sir.’

Carter
smiled across at Crisp.

Angel
noticed the glance and thought they must like each other. He didn’t like it. He hoped it wouldn’t develop into some sort of romance.

He
looked at her and said, ‘You have to report on Cyril Krill.’

Carter
’s eyes flashed. ‘I haven’t had the opportunity before, sir.’

‘
I know you haven’t,’ Angel said. ‘You’ve got it now. Tell me about him.’

‘
It’s all a bit odd, sir,’ she said. ‘Everybody says Cyril Krill is in a financial mess. He was doing very well until about six months ago. Last year’s bank and house price collapse seems to have left him in financial straits. As far as I can find out, he has no building projects in hand. All his builders and plasterers and joiners were employed on a contract basis and they have been dismissed. But the Krills still live in a big house in Sheffield, and both he and his wife have big cars. And they went to that trade fair in London together.’

Angel
turned to Crisp. ‘I thought his wife went somewhere to see their daughter.’

‘
She wasn’t at her school in Gloucestershire, as she said,’ Crisp said. ‘She could have done, sir.’

‘
Why would she lie about that?’ Angel said looking round. Nobody offered an explanation.

‘
The headmistress said that she was expected,’ Crisp said, ‘but at the last minute phoned and said she wasn’t feeling well. The daughter was apparently very disappointed.’

‘
If she was
not
well enough to see her daughter, how come she was well enough to go to London with her husband?’ Angel said. He looked at Crisp. ‘I really need to know where the Krills were at the time of her father’s murder and at the time of Ingrid Underwood’s murder.’

‘
Right, sir,’ Crisp said, and made for the door.

‘
Wait a couple of minutes for me. I’ll come with you. It’s the only lead we’ve got.’

‘
Right, sir,’ Crisp said. ‘My car’s out at the front,’ he added and went out.

Angel
turned to Scrivens. ‘You were looking into the possibility that Luke Redman might have made an enemy at his work.’

‘
Yes, sir,’ Scrivens said. ‘Mr Redman only ever worked at the Northern Bank. I called on the few contemporaries still living, and made several phone calls, sir. And nobody thought he was that bad…I mean bad enough for anyone to want to murder him. He wouldn’t have won any popularity contest, but as bank managers go, it seems he was pretty straight.’

‘
All right, Ted. I hope you’re right,’ Angel said and rubbed his chin. ‘There are a couple of details you can clear up for me. You know that Ronnie Striker went out to buy a sandwich from the shop for Ingrid Underwood. We know he bought the thing. Presumably he brought it back to the florist’s shop but there was no explanation as to what happened to it. Even in the clear-up, SOCO didn’t come across it. I want you to find out what happened to it. See Ronnie Striker; he should know, but be gentle, don’t upset him. Remember he has a man’s body but he’s only twelve years old in the head. All right?’

‘
Yes, sir.’

‘
And there’s something else. Go to the florist’s shop. SOCO will soon be finished there. Find out about the shop bell, and report back to me how it works.’

Scrivens
frowned. ‘The shop bell, sir?’

Angel
clenched his fists. ‘Yes,’ he said. ‘The shop bell. How is it powered? Electric mains, battery, gas, oil, solar, steam, coal, gravity…or is it simply a bell suspended and hit by a piece of metal screwed to the door when the door is opened.’

Scrivens
’ face lightened. ‘Oh, yes, sir.’

‘
Well, push off then, lad,’ he said. ‘We are working against the clock here, you know. I don’t want the murderer striking a third time.’

Scrivens
’ eyelids shot up and then down in alarm as the possibility dawned on him. He rushed out and closed the door.

Angel
turned to Carter. ‘Now then, lass. The link between Luke Redman and Ingrid Underwood has to be much more than him buying flowers from her shop from time to time, or her being a customer at the bank when he was manager, although they are obviously places where a connection may have started. We have to find the relations, friends and acquaintances of each of the two victims and from them, try to uncover a situation or circumstance they had in common. Whatever it is, it must be able to be incorporated in some way with another four people, because the murderer has signalled that he intends to kill four more.’

‘
Why six?’

‘
Who knows? It doesn’t fit a team number, does it? I don’t know of any particular group that would make six. Or it could be seven if you included the murderer.’

‘
There’s seven-a-side football, sir.’

‘
I can’t see Redman in a football team with Mrs Underwood. There’s more than twenty-five years’ difference in them for one thing.’

Carter
had to agree. She nodded accordingly.

‘
I don’t know why it’s six, lass,’ Angel said. ‘But it is. We know so little about Ingrid Underwood. The man across the road at the bike shop said she has a daughter but she’s not come forward. Start there. There should be an address book or some clue as to her ID in Ingrid Underwood’s house. See what you can do to find her or any other person close to her. Keep in touch. All right?’

‘
Right sir,’ she said and she was gone.

Angel
looked round the empty office, checked that he had everything he needed, then went out, closed the door, ran up the corridor to the front door of the station to join Crisp who was already in his car, his engine running, waiting for him.

Angel
slumped in the passenger seat, dragged the seat-belt across his chest, pressed the metal bit into the fastener, and signalled Crisp to move off.

It
was not a happy day.

They
travelled in silence. Angel used the time to mull over the case and then marshal the questions he had for the Krills.

Crisp
drove the Ford to Sheffield, and then through the twists and turns of the city-centre streets with their ‘No Entry’, ‘No right turn’, ‘No left turn’ signs and with certain roads restricted to buses and taxis only. He found the way on to Rivelin Valley Road, then on to the A57 Manchester Road towards the Peak District National Park. Among a stretch of architect designed houses on the right hand side was the house of Cyril and Kathleen Krill.

Mrs
Krill answered the door.

Angel
sensed that they were about as welcome as a gas bill. She showed them into the drawing room.

After
preliminaries, which were kept to a minimum, Angel said, ‘Your husband not here?’

‘
Oh yes,’ she said. ‘He’s in his office which is an annexe at the rear of the house. Do you wish me to call him?’ she said reaching for the phone.

‘
Not yet,’ he said. ‘I need to know where you were overnight on Saturday night/Sunday morning last and between 8.40 and 9.00 yesterday morning.’

‘
I have already told you that I was at my daughter’s school on Saturday night.’

Angel
looked at Crisp.

Crisp
said, ‘The headmistress says that you phoned her on Saturday morning and said that you had a migraine and that -’

She
glared at Angel. ‘You’ve been checking up on me.’

‘
Of course,’ Angel said.

‘
Do you think I would want to kill my own father?’

Angel
shrugged. ‘I don’t know you, Mrs Krill. I am only a policeman doing a very unpleasant job. Can you simply answer the question?’

She
licked her top lip with the tip of her tongue, thoughtfully. ‘It was true,’ she said. ‘I did have a migraine, so I stayed at home. I was in bed most of the time.’

Angel
blinked, looked at Crisp who was getting ready to speak, held up his hand to stop him and said, ‘Here, in this house alone, the entire weekend?’

‘
Yes,’ she said.

‘
And I don’t suppose you saw anybody throughout that time.’

Her
lips tightened. ‘You can’t see anything, Inspector, when you have a serious attack. Ask any doctor.’

Angel
sighed. ‘So nobody can vouch for you being here?’

‘
No.’

‘
Why did you say you went to see your daughter? It would have been perfectly simple to have told the truth.’

Her
eyes darted to the left to the right and back again. ‘Oh for god’s sake, I lied. My husband was there. He thought my migraines had gone. I didn’t want him to think I was still suffering from them. He has enough to worry about just now. It was easier to tell a white lie than to explain.’

Angel
frowned. He wasn’t satisfied, but time was precious. Wherever she was, she hadn’t an alibi for the time of her father’s murder.

‘
And where were you yesterday morning?’ he said.

‘
I was here. Why?’

‘
Can anybody corroborate that?’

‘
My husband, I suppose. He was in his office…like he is now. Why?’

‘
Because that was the time a woman in a flower shop, a Mrs Ingrid Underwood, was stabbed to death the same way that your father was killed. And a similar message left on a mirror.’

‘
Oh, my god,’ she said and slumped down in a chair. ‘What did it say?’

‘“
IV to go,” which we believe to mean that the murderer intends to kill four more people.’

‘
Good heavens,’ Mrs Krill said.

‘
Do you know if your father knew Mrs Underwood?’

‘
Poor woman. I have no idea. The name doesn’t sound familiar. Although he may have.’

‘
It’s very important. He never spoke of her? Never bought flowers from her? It’s an unusual name.’

‘
No, Inspector. I can’t recall the name.’

‘
Can you tell me who formed your father’s circle of friends, relations and acquaintances?’

‘
That’s not difficult, Inspector. There was only me. He had had a wide range of interests when he was younger and when he was working. And he had tried to maintain them, but I believe his particular circle died off, or moved into nursing or retirement homes or even emigrated to a warmer climate. After my mother died, he lost interest in most things. Lately he only went out of the house to the supermarket, the post office and the doctor’s surgery.’

‘
What about relatives?’

‘
They never visited.’

‘
Neighbours?’

‘
Oooh yes. The next door neighbour…he used to talk to a lot. She seemed a nice lady…a widow, on her own. Mrs Oxtaby.’

‘
Mrs Oxtaby?’ Angel said. ‘She’s been seen, but we’ll have another word. Anybody else?’

‘
No. I’m afraid that was the extent of Dad’s social life these recent days.’

Angel
wrinkled his nose. He lifted his eyebrows and looked at Crisp who shook his head very slightly. He turned back to Mrs Krill. ‘Right. Thank you. I’d like to see your husband now.’

She
looked up and said, ‘Is that all?’

‘
Yes. For now.’

She
picked up the phone, told her husband that the police wanted to see him, then directed the two men down the hall, out through the back door and down a path through a lawn to a bungalow. Krill came out of the building and stood in front of the door as they approached.

‘
What do you want?’ he said. ‘Have you come to tell me who murdered old man Redman, then?’

Angel
said, ‘Do you think we could talk inside, sir?’

Krill
hesitated then moved away from the door and said, ‘You’ll have to make it quick. I haven’t much time.’

‘
Nor have we,’ Angel said and he passed in front of him, stepped into the bungalow and made for the only room ahead with the door open.

Crisp
followed.

Krill
brought up the rear, closed the door, stepped behind a desk, pointed to chairs facing him and the three men sat down.