The faces of the dead stared from the whiteboard: Harry Edmonds, his nose crushed from the unprotected fall; Emily Edmonds, her expression locked in terror – mouth torn from being force-fed the baubles now exhibited in a glass jar; and Charlotte Lockwood: her crime-scene picture made the grimmest viewing of all. Above the picture of the blood-splattered pavement was a blown-up passport photo. Pale and unsmiling, the bags under her eyes suggested sleep was a luxury she had seen little of. Ruby glanced at Monica last. She could not help but feel she had let the woman down. Despite the warnings on TV and appeals to the public this intelligent career-driven woman had opened her door to a complete stranger. Ruby had thought about what she would have done without the benefit of hindsight. It was always the same conclusion. If she had received such a visitor claiming to be her daughter, she would have invited her in too.
‘Right,’ DI Downes said, rubbing his hands together. ‘Are we starting or what?’
They were back in hell; Ruby’s least favourite place. At least today she had remembered to leave the briefing room door ajar before their meeting. And morning briefing was preferential to evening when the lingering heat drew out the sweaty odour and magnified it tenfold. In the absence of Worrow, Downes took the lead. Unbuttoning his shirt sleeves he rolled them up his forearms. Given the way his tie was swinging loosely around his neck it was only a matter of time before that came off too.
‘Go ahead, boss,’ Ruby said, carrying out a quick headcount. ‘We’re all here.’
It took only minutes for the team to be brought up to speed because, despite the overwhelming number of enquiries taking place, they were yet to turn up any solid leads. The television appeal had brought in hundreds of calls and valuable police hours were spent chasing up dead ends. The frustration was evident on Downes’s face as he spoke. He moved his hand to the picture of Emily’s address on the whiteboard and prodded at the image of her front door.
‘Why here?’ Downes said, casting his eyes around the room. He reached to the picture of Monica’s home, pressing his finger to the door. ‘And here. Out of all the homes in London, why did our suspect come knocking on these doors? These are the questions we need to be asking if we’ve any hope of solving this case. Were the baubles found in Emily’s stomach Christmas decorations, or were they used for another reason? And why were Emily’s and Monica’s bodies staged, but not the others’? Luddy, how did you get on tracking down the origin of their clothes?’
‘The nightgown was the most distinctive piece of clothing. It was from The White Company. They’re online as well as being dotted all around the UK. We haven’t been able to narrow it down any more than that. We’ve spoken to friends, family, colleagues; they all say the same thing: that both Emily and Monica seemed relatively happy with their partners. Both husbands had clean records. But that’s where the similarities end. Friends say that Emily was timid and barely left the house, while Monica was career-driven and outgoing and hardly ever in.’
‘And what about Charlotte? Anything new?’
‘Crimestoppers have come through with calls to say a man was seen in the area prior to the attack. But there’s no description other than someone walking down the street in a hoodie.’
‘Which could just as easily be a woman in disguise. Yes, I saw that,’ Downes interrupted.
Ruby interjected, shifting the attention from Luddy, who was sweating from more than the humidity in the room. It was clear that the pressure of holding back their visit to Goldie was getting to him, and Ruby felt guilty for bringing him along. ‘We’ve had a vast number of calls reporting neighbours acting suspiciously, noises in the night, strange comings and goings. We’re still going through them.’ She fanned her face with her paperwork. ‘We’re also trawling through the nearest CCTV leading to and from the address. Vehicles are being checked against ANPR, and we’re liaising with other forces for similar incident reports. Our prolific offenders are being monitored and spoken to. We’ve checked the history of Emily’s home address, as well as her neighbours and anything else that could lead to it being a case of mistaken identity.’
‘It’s too much of a coincidence that Emily and Monica gave up children for adoption. No leads on their real daughters? Any relatives with some warped sense of revenge?’
‘No, boss. Emily’s daughter, as you know, has since passed on. She was an only child, a high achiever who was popular in school,’ Luddy said. ‘We’ve spoken to her friends; none of them stand out as being capable of murder.’
‘And Monica’s daughter?’
‘We found out today that she’s a travel rep in Greece. She’s had no contact with her mother.’
‘Crack on with your enquiries in local care homes. I want you to speak to anyone you can find who worked there ten, twenty years ago. Find out if any of the children had an obsession with death and Victorian traditions, or if anything significant took place around Christmas Day. We can’t leave any stone unturned.’
‘I’ve also had some possible evidence turn up on my desk in the form of two letters. They’re currently with Bones… I mean, Crime Scene Investigators,’ Ruby corrected herself. ‘It may be a hoax, but they were addressed directly to me.’
‘Letters? Why wasn’t this brought to my attention?’ Downes said, looking harried. He despised being out of the loop when it came to briefing. His macho pride did not appreciate being shown up in front of his colleagues. Ruby felt a flush rise to her cheeks. Because of her visit to Oakwood she did not have time to inform him. ‘They’ve only just been discovered,’ she said, before describing the card. She hoped he wouldn’t ask about the postmark and the fact the first envelope was delivered days ago. Friend or no friend, he would chew the arse off her for that. Best to inform him in a less public setting. ‘The envelopes were black rimmed, and the letter inside was a kind of death announcement. It’s in line with the Victorian mourning tradition.’
‘So they’re some kind of death notice?’ Downes said, tugging at the knot on his tie. Ruby shoved on her glasses and peered at the list of traditions Eve had placed on the board. Information on death notices was listed near the top.
‘Yes,’ Ruby said. ‘The envelope was marked so back in the day; people knew it was a death announcement before they opened it. It gave them time to prepare themselves.’
‘And what’s the significance to our case? Have you worked that one out too?’
Ruby glared down her glasses at Downes. It was a look telling him to back off. ‘I’ve been informed that the second card is exactly the same, apart from the name. Monica Sherwood.’
Eve raised her hand. ‘But what about the other victims? Emily’s husband, Charlotte Lockwood? Why haven’t you received notifications for them?’
‘I think it’s because they’re bit players who interfered with Lucy’s plans. Which makes this killer even more dangerous, because they’ll kill anyone who gets in their way. Safety plans are in place for the victim’s family members, but it’s more likely the killer will move on to someone else, and this is why we need to warn such women before she strikes. Their whole family could be in danger.’
Ruby sighed. She couldn’t sit on it any longer. ‘I’m currently researching an email address provided by an anonymous source. They said the owner was acting suspiciously, saying they were searching for her mother and had a score to settle. Luddy has located the IP address to an internet café, and we’ve got a vague description of the suspect which I’ve added to the briefing notes. I’ve put an intel report in.’
‘Good. Well, keep me updated. It may be more valuable than you think.’
It was close enough to the truth. As much as Ruby wanted to catch the killer a small part of her was scared. Her emotions were tied up in knots as she worked with her team to hunt Lucy down. But it felt like she was in a room where the walls of her life were closing in. With her job pressuring her on one side and the Crosbys on the other, she was left in no doubt – no matter what she did this was not going to end well.