The taxi pulled up in front of the Midland Hotel. The massive Victorian building sat like a faded aristocrat amid the bustling city streets. A grand testament to a bygone era. Its red-brick facade had been professionally cleaned but it was weathered by the passage of time; Lulu could easily imagine men in top hats and women in fur-trimmed coats popping in for afternoon tea while their horse-drawn carriages waited outside.
‘Do you want to come in for a bite to eat, on my expense account?’ asked Phil. ‘It’s the least the police can do for you tipping them off about this case.’ DI Friar had offered a car to run them home, but Phil had explained that he was on expenses and more than happy to use a minicab.
They had spent the afternoon and a good part of the evening going through DI Friar’s decision log and the HOLMES data. The decision log had been pretty much faultless, a textbook example of how to run a murder investigation, from the initial preservation of the murder scenes and the identification of the victims through to the investigation phase and the case management phase. DI Friar had done everything by the book but still had no suspects. A canvass for witnesses and CCTV footage hadn’t produced anything useful and the murders appeared to be motiveless. Random killings were always the hardest to solve, as Lulu knew from experience.
‘I’m not sure they’ll allow Conrad into the restaurant,’ said Lulu. Conrad was lying in her lap. His eyes were closed but she could tell from his breathing that he wasn’t asleep.
‘I’ll flash my warrant card and say that he’s a police cat,’ said Phil.
Lulu looked at her watch. ‘Well, I suppose it is wine o’clock,’ she said.
‘Let’s have a drink and maybe a bite and then I’ll walk you home. Where did you park?’
Lulu laughed. ‘I moored at what they call the Staffordshire arm of the Castlefield Basin, between the Bridgewater Canal and the Rochdale Canal. I can stay there for seventy-two hours. It’s a short walk from here.’
‘Perfect, then. A drink, a bite and a walk.’
‘You’ve talked me into it,’ said Lulu, smiling.
Phil paid the driver and asked for a receipt.
‘What shall I make the receipt out for?’ asked the driver.
‘The fare,’ said Phil. ‘That’ll be fine.’
‘Suit yourself. Most people like to turn a profit,’ said the driver. He scribbled out a receipt and handed it to Phil.
A tram rattled past as they climbed out of the cab and walked into the hotel, with Conrad sitting on Lulu’s shoulders. Phil was carrying his briefcase and holdall. ‘You could have arrested him for conspiracy to commit fraud, right there and then,’ said Lulu.
‘I held myself back,’ said Phil.
The reception desk was to the right and there was a champagne bar to the left, with wicker seats and potted plants giving it a Mediterranean feel. ‘Oh, this looks nice,’ said Lulu.
‘Let’s grab a seat and order drinks, then I’ll check in,’ said Phil. They found a free table at the far side of the bar. There was a group of middle-aged men in suits at the table to their left, drinking cocktails, and two elderly women sipping martinis to their right. Conrad jumped down onto one of the chairs and settled down, nose to tail. A young waiter in a white shirt and black trousers and waistcoat came over and Lulu ordered a glass of Chardonnay. Phil asked for a pint of Guinness.
The waiter shrugged apologetically. ‘I’m sorry, sir. No Guinness.’
‘A pint of bitter will be fine, then.’
‘No draught beer, I’m afraid. We do have bottled Peroni.’
Phil managed to smile politely. ‘Maybe bring me two,’ he said.
‘And if it’s not too much trouble, a bowl of Evian water for Conrad,’ said Lulu. ‘He really doesn’t like the taste of tap water.’
‘Who does?’ said the waiter. He leaned towards Lulu and lowered his voice. ‘Hotel policy is that animals aren’t allowed in the bars or restaurants,’ he said in a soft Irish accent. ‘My policy is that if they stay out of sight, they’re grand.’ He winked and walked away.
‘Sorry about this, Conrad,’ said Lulu. She picked him up and put him under the table. He meowed but curled up into a ball again.
‘In my experience, most animals are better behaved than many people,’ Phil commented.
‘You are preaching to the converted,’ said Lulu. She looked around the bar. ‘This is nice,’ she said.
‘It is,’ agreed Phil.
‘And this is where Mr Rolls met Mr Royce?’
‘Allegedly. There are two commemorative plaques outside the building saying that, so it must be true.’ He gestured at his holdall and briefcase. ‘Why don’t you wait here while I check in and freshen up? Then we’ll get something to eat.’
‘Go ahead,’ said Lulu. Phil picked up his bags and headed to reception.
As he left, the waiter returned with their drinks on a tray. He put the two bottles of Peroni in front of Phil’s seat, gave the glass of Chardonnay to Lulu, then bent down and slid a bowl of water under the table. ‘Out of sight, out of mind,’ he whispered to Lulu.
Lulu was halfway through her glass of wine when Phil came back. The businessmen at the next table were discussing sales targets, and Conrad had stayed quiet, curled up on the floor next to the bowl of water. ‘All done,’ said Phil, as he dropped down into his chair. He picked up one of the bottles and toasted her. ‘First today,’ he said and took a swig.
‘How’s the room?’
‘Very nice,’ he said. ‘I won’t complain if they tell me to stay for a week or so.’
‘Do you think that’s likely?’
‘The powers that be would really like to catch the Choker,’ said Phil. ‘And that won’t happen without new evidence. Plus we’ve got the fact that one of the latest victims is a former Met cop.’
‘Have you told the Met that yet?’
Phil shook his head. ‘The super will be off home already and he doesn’t like being phoned out of hours. I’ll talk to him first thing.’
‘And you’re okay if I accompany you with DC Townsend tomorrow to check out the crime scenes?’
‘Of course. You visited all the London crime scenes – they need your experience.’
‘I’m just very conscious that I’m a civilian, Phil. And retired. They can justify having you around – you’re a serving officer – but they could get into trouble involving a civilian in active cases. Especially with that journalist sniffing around.’
‘They need your insight, boss. No question. I might even be able to swing a consultancy fee for you, same as we did when we brought you back last time They really want this guy caught. It’s not exactly a “money no object” situation, but the fact that they’ve put me up in the Midland suggests that they’re not counting the pennies.’
‘I don’t want paying, Phil,’ said Lulu. ‘But I really do want to catch this guy. I put hundreds of hours of my life into the investigation back then and it all came to nothing. Be nice if we could get a result after all this time.’
‘We’ll give it our best shot, boss,’ said Phil, and he took another pull on his bottle. He grimaced. ‘I’ve never been a fan of Italian beer,’ he said. ‘But I suppose beggars can’t be choosers.’
Lulu sighed and settled back in her chair. ‘I don’t need the money, Phil, but I do need a favour.’
He raised his bottle in salute. ‘Ask and you shall receive, boss.’
‘It’s personal, but I suspect there may be a crime involved. Just so you know.’
‘We’re well past the stage of you having to explain yourself,’ said Phil. ‘What do you need?’
Lulu had to fight the urge to reach over and hug him. He was such a good-hearted man, so dependable and reliable. She had been lucky to work with him and she was luckier still that they had remained friends. ‘A friend of mine is being courted by a guy she met on a dating app, and there’s something not right about him,’ she said. ‘He says he’s got investments, mainly in Ireland, but he’s light on details. And he’s pressing my friend to marry him.’
‘You’ve met him?’
‘Last night. He cooked an amazing lamb tagine.’
‘With apricots?’
‘Oh, yes.’
‘Yummy. I love a good lamb tagine. So what’s the problem?’
The problem was that Conrad had seen Jeremy’s aura and decided that he was up to no good. But Lulu could hardly tell Phil that. ‘Copper’s intuition,’ she said.
‘Your instincts have always been good, boss. Remember that guy who killed his landlady in Kilburn? Butter wouldn’t melt in his mouth, he was so shaken up, remember? Said he’d found the body when he came back from a night in the pub. You said right from the start that he’d done it but there was no forensics and he had alibi witnesses for the time we thought the lady died. Three weeks later and we found out that you were right.’
‘He just seemed off,’ said Lulu. ‘Especially when he thought we weren’t watching him. It was like he was performing for an audience. Jeremy is the same. It’s an act, I’m sure. A good act, but an act nevertheless.’
‘What’s his full name?’
‘Jeremy Connolly.’
‘Have you googled him?’
‘Yes, and there’s nothing. Nothing on social media, either. There are nine Jeremy Connollys on LinkedIn but none are him. A few more on Facebook but most of them are in America. This guy is a ghost.’
‘What about family members attending the wedding?’
‘He has a brother and sister in Australia – allegedly – so they wouldn’t be able to make it.’
‘Friends?’
‘Mostly in Ireland or overseas. He mentioned a friend by the name of Seamus Gannon in Dublin. And he doesn’t want to make a fuss, he says. He just wants to put a ring on her finger. A small, quiet, low-key ceremony at a register office.’
‘And you’re worried about what? Bigamy?’
‘She’s quite well off, Phil. Her husband worked for the BBC for many years, so there’s a decent pension. Plus he was good with money and made a few shrewd investments over the years. He also bought a villa in Spain and inherited a cottage in Norfolk. Jeremy knows what she’s worth, but she has no idea what – if anything – he has.’
‘So she’s worried that he’s after her money?’
Lulu nodded.
‘Not much of a basis for marriage, is it?’ said Phil. ‘Trust is pretty much the prime requisite, I would have thought. Not that I’m an expert, of course.’
‘You reach an age where these things matter,’ said Lulu. ‘She loves him, I’m sure of that. But she knows she has a lot to lose. If he marries her and they divorce later, she could lose half of everything. More than a million pounds in assets.’
‘So get him to sign a prenup.’
‘He’s okay with that. In fact, he suggested it.’
‘So what’s the problem?’
‘His idea of a prenup is that if they get divorced they each take what they brought into the marriage. But in the event of him dying, he wants Jane to inherit everything. He says he wants to make sure that she’s provided for.’
‘Well, that’s sweet of him.’
‘That’s one way of looking at it. The other way, of course, is that if there’s a quid pro quo and she dies, he’ll get everything.’
Phil’s eyes narrowed. ‘You think that’s his plan?’ He grimaced. ‘That’s cold, boss. Ice cold.’
‘I don’t know what he’s thinking, Phil. That’s why I need your help. It might be that he is head over heels in love with Jane and wants to spend the rest of his life with her. That’s what she hopes, and she worries that by doubting him now she might spoil things. So she’s asked me to do the doubting for her, and unfortunately when I met him, I wasn’t convinced that he’s genuine. At times we felt he was acting.’
Phil frowned. ‘We?’
Lulu nodded at Conrad. ‘Conrad didn’t seem to be taken with him. And he’s a very good judge of character.’
‘One sure way of finding out is to insist that he signs a prenup that guarantees he gets nothing in the event of her death.’
‘Indeed, yes,’ said Lulu. ‘But first of all that’s tantamount to saying that she suspects him of planning to kill her. And second of all, what if she does insist on that and he walks away? If he really is planning to kill for money, what’s to say that he won’t target someone else? And maybe next time the victim won’t have a friend who was a superintendent with the Met.’
‘What did you think when you met him? Did he look like a murderer to you?’
‘No, of course not. But they never do, do they? Ted Bundy was charming and presentable. And I’m sure most of Harold Shipman’s patients thought he was simply lovely right up until the point he injected them with diamorphine.’
‘But you think he’s not right?’
Lulu nodded. ‘You can see where we’re going with this. Guy meets a lonely widow on a dating app, weaves his spell on her, and a few months later . . .’ She forced a smile. ‘It’s probably nothing, but to put my mind at rest I’d like you to run some checks.’
‘I will, Lulu. I’ll run him through the Police National Computer and any other databases that come to mind.’
‘You’re a star, Phil.’
‘Least I can do, boss.’ He drained his bottle. ‘And I promised you food.’
‘Yes, you did.’