5.50pm Sunday 22nd December
‘Get hold of Bob. We need SOCOs at the scene immediately.’ Barrett pulled on his overcoat while talking at Elly, who was working her way through Eddie Kilpatrick’s diaries.
‘Palmer, we’re going to Burwell,’ he called across the room his voice cracking with exhaustion.
‘Burwell?’ Palmer looked up from his desk, the screen reflected in his eyes.
‘Yes, we have another one.’
‘Eddie Kilpatrick?’
‘That would be my guess.’ Barrett buttoned up his coat and ran his hand through his silver hair. ‘A body was found by a dog walker. It doesn’t sound like it’s in a pretty state. Unlike our previous victims this one had been hung from a tree by a fishing lake on the outskirts of the village.’
‘Not a suicide?’ Palmer asked, thinking about Susan and Marie.
‘Doesn’t sound like it.’ Barrett shook his head. ‘Let’s go.’
Palmer grabbed the half-eaten baguette that was sitting on his desk and followed his colleague out of the room. He always had an increased appetite in the winter.
‘Any other information?’
‘The victim is male. In his sixties or seventies. Hung by the neck. There is blood at the scene. That’s all I know until we get there.’
‘Sounds like our man,’ Palmer admitted as his heart sank.
With a new murder to add to the investigation, it was looking increasingly likely that he would not be spending Christmas day at home as planned.
The men drove to Burwell in silence, once they’d finally got away from the crawling winter traffic. The dark roads that led to the scene where the body had been discovered were eerily abandoned and the car bumped along the rough surface, its headlights on full beam. But there was very little to see. The fields around there were flat and the darkness seemed to go on forever.
Followed closely by two police cars it took them half an hour to reach their destination.
When they pulled onto Little Fen Drove, they spotted a man standing by a large metal gate on the edge of the lane. He looked cold. By his feet sat a Labrador covered in mud.
‘Over here.’ He waved the police down as Barrett pulled onto the kerb. ‘It’s over here.’ Roy stood shivering in the cold. Barrett suspected he had shock.
After pulling on shoe protectors and gloves the inspectors and the officers followed the man through the near darkness to the edge of the lake.
‘I’m not going any further. I’ve seen enough.’ The man stopped, trying to control the dog, which pulled hard on the lead. ‘Go round that way.’ He pointed left. ‘Keep to the edge of the lake and you’ll find it soon enough.’
‘Thank you.’ Barrett nodded and set off leaving Palmer to tell Roy he should go back to the lane and get himself checked out by the ambulance. Roy, who was only too happy to put as much distance between himself and the dead body, agreed and returned to their meeting spot. The rain was beginning to fall again.
It took the inspectors a few minutes before they found what they were looking for. Barrett stopped, holding his torch up and lighting the scene. It was something out of a nightmare.
‘Jesus,’ Palmer whispered under his breath when he caught up with his boss.
Stepping closer only made it more real. The head of the victim was caved in on one side, pieces of smashed bone sticking out of the skull in peculiar angles. The smallest finger on the right hand had been removed and the chest was a bloody mess of cut flesh.
The victim’s eyes were bulging and bloodshot, staring out over the lake.
‘Have you ever seen anything like this before?’ Palmer asked Barrett.
‘I can honestly say in all my years on the force this is the first time I’ve encountered anything like this.’ His words were tainted with horror and morbid fascination.
‘He looks like he’s been here a while.’
‘Agreed,’ Barrett said, carefully stepping closer to the corpse and shining the light on the chest. ‘Get them to cordon off the area. I don’t want anyone else disturbing the scene.’
‘The rain will have washed away a lot.’
‘But we need to salvage what we can, Joe.’ Barrett didn’t want to acknowledge the fact that so much evidence would have been lost.
Grateful to be leaving the corpse, Palmer returned to the officers who were making their way along the path and gave them their instructions, just as Bob Roland and his team joined them.
‘Evening,’ Bob said through his surgical mask. ‘What do we have here?’
‘Looking like The Hangman has struck again.’
‘Righto. Didn’t take him long.’ Bob snapped his nitrile gloves on and followed the path around the lake to join Barrett who stayed with the body.
‘Ian.’ The men shook hands. ‘Any idea who this might be?’
‘It’s Eddie Kilpatrick. He went missing two days ago.’ Although the body hanging from the tree looked far from human, Barrett knew the man had once been Eddie.
‘Any links to the previous victims?’ Bob asked.
‘That’s what we are trying to establish.’ Barrett watched as Bob slowly circled the body being careful not to step in the bloody puddle below it. ‘What is it?’ he asked, finally acknowledging the strange look on Bob’s face.
‘See here?’ Bob pointed with a gloved finger. ‘These cuts. They don’t look random. I think something has been carved into the skin.’
Barrett took a tentative step towards the body and cocked his head. Bob was right. It looked like letters.
‘I won’t be sure until I get it back to the lab and get him cleaned up,’ Bob admitted, now examining the stump where the small finger had once been. ‘You don’t need me to tell you, but this is different to the others.’
‘Our killer seems to be getting more violent.’
‘Yes,’ Bob said gravely ‘and more confident.’
‘I’m going to leave you to it,’ sighed Barrett. ‘I need to go and break the news to his family.’
‘Rather you than me,’ Bob said puffing out his cheeks. ‘I’m more comfortable dealing with the dead. They don’t cry.’
‘No, they don’t.’ He looked up at the glassy bloated expression on the victim’s face and felt a real sense of sadness.
Had Eddie Kilpatrick begged for his life? Did he know the end was coming? Pushing away the questions that were trying to get into his head he made his way back along the edge of the lake leaving Bob and his team to work the scene.
‘Time to break the news to Mrs Kilpatrick,’ he said to Palmer who was chatting to one of the uniformed officers. ‘I didn’t think we’d be visiting her again today.’
‘No, neither did I.’ Palmer played with the house keys that were in his pocket just as his mobile phone began to ring. Elly Hale’s name appeared on his screen.
‘Hello, yes?’
‘I’ve been going through the diaries. I’ve found a name. Dennis Wade appears on a number of occasions in the calendar from 1995 through to 1999. Then there is no mention of him again. It’s odd. Most of the entries which have Dennis Wade also have the word golf written next to them, but there are couple of time when the name appears on its own.’
‘I want you to write a list of dates when the name appears and email it over to me.’ Palmer put his hand up to stop Barrett who was about to interrupt. ‘We’ve found Eddie Kilpatrick and we are on our way to break the news to his family now.’
‘Oh dear.’ Elly sounded genuinely upset.
‘We’ll speak to the family and then come back to the station. Prepare yourself for a long night and tell the others, too.’
‘Will do. Are you alright?’
‘I’m fine,’ Palmer replied defensively. It was not the sort of personal question he was comfortable with. ‘We’ll see you soon.’ He hung up.
‘Elly has confirmed that Dennis Wade’s name appears in a number of the diaries.’ Palmer filled Barrett in on the conversation.
‘Let’s get over there and arrange for a FLO to meet us outside. That family are going to need all the support they can get.’
‘At least they don’t have to ID the body.’ Palmer was grasping around for a silver lining.
‘Yes. At least we can spare them that.’
Twenty-five minutes later they were standing outside 79 Bridewell Road in Fulbourn. Through the window they could see the Christmas tree lights glowing. On the front door hung an artificial ivy wreath adorned with fake red berries.
Palmer took a deep breath before knocking on the door. The cold air filled his lungs making them ache for a moment.
Marie answered the door. She was now wearing a pair of checked green flannel pyjamas. She looked like a great big kid and it was endearing.
‘Can we come in?’ Palmer said as she stood looking at them.
‘Is it the diaries? Have you found something?’
‘It would be better if we could do this indoors,’ Barrett suggested, but Marie stood in the doorway blocking their path; she knew they were not bringing good news.
‘Okay.’ She finally moved aside and let the officers in.
Without having to ask, Palmer and Barrett both slipped their shoes off before following her into the living room.
Slouched on the sofa was Susan, cradling a glass of dark liquor. ‘I wasn’t expecting guests.’ Susan sat up, half slurring.
‘She’s had a few.’ Marie nodded at the bottle of Tia Maria on the table. ‘I thought it would help her sleep.’
‘Sorry for disturbing you again,’ Palmer apologised looking at Barrett – wanting him to take the lead.
‘What it is?’ Susan’s eyes were not focusing on any of their faces.
‘Earlier this evening…’ Barrett stepped forward. ‘We received a call reporting a body.’
Marie held her breath, knowing what was coming but not wanting to hear it.
‘I’m afraid the body belonged to Mr Kilpatrick,’ Barrett said staring at the pile of presents already placed under the Christmas tree. He wondered how many of them were meant for a man who would never open them.
‘No.’ Susan blinked. ‘No. You’re wrong.’
Marie collapsed onto the sofa next to her mother and hugged her, burying her face in her shoulder to hide the tears.
‘You’re wrong,’ Susan said again.
‘I’m really sorry, Mrs Kilpatrick, but we’ve formally identified the victim as your husband. We are very sorry for your loss.’
‘I’m Julie,’ said the family liaison officer who bent down on her haunches. ‘I’m here to help you.’ Her face was kind and she looked older than she was. Dealing with victim’s families time and time again had taken its toll on her and the crow’s feet around her eyes were deep set.
Susan stared blankly at her as Marie’s sobs grew louder and she began repeating the word ‘Dad’ over and over again.
‘What happened to him?’ Susan finally managed to ask.
‘He was murdered.’ Barrett delivered the next blow.
‘Where is he?’ Marie asked looking up at last.
‘The body was discovered outside of Burwell by a fishing lake. Does that mean anything to you?’
Both women shook their heads in tandem.
‘I appreciate this is a shock, but I have just one more question. We’ve discovered that your husband did know Dennis Wade. His name appears in your father’s diaries.’ Barrett addressed only Marie since Susan seemed incapable of talking or thinking straight. ‘Can you tell us anything about their relationship?’
Wiping away the large tears that were falling down her face Marie paused for a moment and thought. ‘They played golf sometimes a while back. I’d not heard Dad mention him for years.’
‘Do you know how they met?’
‘Maybe through the golf club.’
‘Which club is that?’ Palmer asked removing his notepad.
‘The Gog Magog Golf club,’ Susan said with no emotion.
‘Thank you.’ Palmer smiled kindly. ‘We are going to leave you with Julie now. Again, we are very sorry not to be delivering better news.’
By midnight the incident room had quietened down. The officers were all seated at their own desks working on the new case and filing reports.
Barrett sat alone in his office going over things in his mind. Since discovering a link between Dennis and Eddie he was sure that Wendy also knew the other victims. It was possible she too was a member of the golf club. He remembered seeing all of her activity photographs on the wall in her house, but he didn’t recall seeing any evidence of golf.
Picking up the phone he called the mortuary. ‘Can I speak to Bob Roland please. DCI Barrett here.’ He closed his eyes and rubbed his right temple with his free hand. After a moment Bob came to the phone.
‘Ian.’ He cleared his throat.
‘Can you tell me if there were any golf clubs at Wendy Matlock’s house?’
‘Not that I recall,’ Bob replied. He found the question strange.
‘It seems we can link Eddie Kilpatrick to Dennis Wade through a golf club and I wondered if that was also the link to Wendy Matlock.’ He sighed with exhaustion.
‘Not as far as I remember, but I can check the scene of crime photographs and come back to you on that.’ He paused for a moment. ‘You sound tired.’
‘I am,’ Barrett admitted before he could stop himself. It wasn’t like him to confess to such a thing.
‘You should go home. Get some sleep. This will still be here in the morning.’
‘Sleep?’ Barrett chuckled. ‘Do you sleep well when working an active case?’
‘I’ve learnt to.’
‘Lucky for some.’
‘How were the family?’ Bob thought he already knew the answer to this question but felt compelled to ask.
‘Awful,’ came the simple reply.
‘Nasty business,’ he said looking down at the dirty overalls he had on. ‘Anyway, I thought you’d want to know that I was right about the torso. A message was cut into the body.’
‘Message? What message?’ Barrett sat upright suddenly feeling wide awake.
‘It goes some way to explaining why the small right-hand fingers were removed from each victim,’ Bob continued dangling the carrot.
‘What does?’
‘Once I caught a fish alive.’
‘You mean like the nursery rhyme?’ Barrett said frowning and scratching his head.
‘Exactly. The letters were carved using some sort of sharp instrument, most likely a knife.’
‘Okay.’ Barrett’s brain was whirling again.
‘I’d say the victim was killed late on Friday. He’d been hanging there for some time. Rigor mortis had set in.’
Barrett nodded jotting all this down. ‘Thanks for letting me know.’
‘You’ll have my report in the morning.’ Bob yawned. ‘Oh, and one last thing. He was alive when the words were cut into him.’
In Fulbourn, Susan sat upstairs in her bed surrounded by all of Eddie’s remaining diaries. Flicking through the pages, looking at his handwriting and remembering days gone by, she struggled to focus on the words. The sleeping pill Marie had given her was clashing with the alcohol she’d consumed.
Downstairs below her she could hear her daughter pacing the living room and crying.
Numb from the medication and booze, Susan was determined to keep going through the diaries nonetheless. She didn’t know if she was looking for anything in particular but having them with her made her feel closer to her murdered husband.
Opening a diary that was from 1983 she came across initials she didn’t recognise. Scribbled on every Monday for over six months were the letters GM, then, all of a sudden, the initials stopped appearing.
Susan searched for the diary he’d kept in eighty-four and scoured the pages for those same initials, but they were nowhere to be seen. Then, in a bizarre moment of clarity, perhaps brought on by the multiple substances swirling around her system, Susan remembered that was the year she realised Eddie was having an affair; and she suspected GM was the woman in question. Susan let out a long sigh and let the diary fall to the floor. The identity of the woman in question was no longer relevant, but she still needed to know. In the morning she’d ask Marie if she had any idea who GM was.
Lying back on her bed, her head sinking into the pillow, she thought back to those days. She’d been so cross, so hurt by Eddie’s betrayal, and in that moment those feelings came flooding back. For the first time since she’d been put to bed by her daughter, Susan finally let herself cry.