Danilov sat with his head in his hands. A cigarette lay in the ashtray beside him, its smoke drifting lazily up to the ceiling of the detectives’ room. After dealing with the Princess’s body, the rants of Major Renard about lack of progress in the case, and organising the French fingerprint technicians, he had finally returned to the station, exhausted.
Strachan sat at his desk, tapping his fingers on top of the file. He knew it was better to wait for Danilov to speak. Other detectives were scattered around the room but they too seemed to recognise the need for silence.
‘What does he want, Strachan?’ Danilov said eventually, without lifting his head from his hands.
‘I don’t know, sir.’
‘Neither do I. And it’s important. He’s committed six murders, attempted to murder another woman, and we are no closer to understanding why he is doing it.’ Danilov picked up the cigarette and placed it between his lips, sucking in the cool smoke. He could feel it entering his lungs and the jolt of nicotine flooding through his body.
‘At least, we can read the messages he’s sending us.’
Danilov stubbed the remains of the cigarette out in the ashtray. ‘We can read them because he wants us to read them. He’s playing with us, Strachan, but why?’ The inspector buried his head in his hands again.
‘Again, I don’t know, sir.’
‘It was a rhetorical question, Strachan, it didn’t need an answer.’
‘Yes, sir; I mean, no, sir.’
The phone on Danilov’s desk rang.
‘Get it please, Strachan. If it’s another meeting with Chief Inspector Rock, tell him I’m out.’
‘Yes, sir.’ Strachan stood up and picked up the telephone in mid ring. Immediately, he held it away from his ear. ‘It’s Chief Inspector Rock, sir. We are needed in the Investigation Room immediately. He says it’s important.’
Danilov sighed, made sure he had his tobacco, and stood up. ‘Let’s go and see what they have to say to us, Strachan.’
‘I’m sorry, sir, he was insistent.’
‘Not your fault, Strachan. “The wolf howls, the sheep get nervous.”’
He strode down the corridor and knocked on the door of the Investigation Room. A sharp ‘enter’ came from inside.
Chief Inspector Rock was pointing at the blackboard with what looked like a thin walking stick. Inspector Meaker was speaking. He stopped as soon as Danilov entered. The Investigation Room had another easel added now, crowding the far corner. On it were written the details of the murder at the undertaker’s. Danilov could see they still thought the victim was C.J. Dawtry. Another blackboard had been screwed to the wall, already covered in writing. The map had an additional picture added to it.
Danilov stared at the map with the pictures of the victims placed at the location of the discovery of their bodies, plus the picture of Miss Cavendish placed at the Canidrome. Something about it troubled him. What was it?
‘Come in and sit down, Danilov and Strachan. The inspector was telling us about the autopsy on the body of the man we found at the undertaker’s.’
Danilov noticed Rock had avoided using their proper rank and titles. ‘I wasn’t invited to the autopsy, sir?’
‘Inspectors Meaker and Cartwright found the body, along with myself. They handled the autopsy. Carry on Meaker.’
Meaker waited till Danilov had made himself comfortable before he continued, scanning his notes until he found his place. ‘As I was saying, we still don’t know the identity of the victim, but we can presume he was C.J. Dawtry from the card in his hand.’
Danilov sighed. ‘His real name was Ivan Victorov. He was a petty criminal from Moscow who was the pimp of one of Allen’s previous victims.’
‘You knew this man as well, Danilov?’
‘Yes, sir, as I have been saying, all the victims are linked to me in one way or another.’
‘A pimp helped you?’ asked Meaker.
‘Reluctantly so, but he did.’
Chief Inspector Rock coughed. ‘Please carry on, Inspector.’
Again Meaker searched for his place. ‘Apparently, this Ivan Victorov drowned in his own blood, according to Dr Fang. He was bled until he was close to death and then drowned with the blood removed from his own body.’
Cartwright laughed. ‘Not a nice way to go.’
Meaker continued. ‘He was tied up on the frame and his lungs were filled with his blood.’
‘So, when we cut him down, it poured from his mouth.’ Chief Inspector Rock spoke slowly as if reliving every moment in the laying-out room of the undertaker’s.
‘It’s one of the methods of death described in the Eighteen Courts of Hell, usually reserved for a cheating clerk or disobedient slave.’ Strachan shrugged his shoulders. ‘My uncle told me.’
‘Them Chinese know how to kill a man. Have I told you about the time I…’
Rock coughed again. ‘I think we’ll save it for another time, Inspector Cartwright. Carry on, Meaker.’
‘Now, we come to the interesting bit. Dr Fang found more characters carved behind the victim’s ear.’
‘The characters were for Russia.’
‘How do you know, Danilov?’ said Meaker. ‘You been talking to Dr Fang behind my back?’
Danilov sighed. ‘We found another body an hour ago at the Cercle Sportif in the French Concession.’
Chief Inspector Rock’s stick crashed down on to the desk. ‘When were you going to tell us, Danilov? Were you going to keep it a secret, like all those other secrets you seem to have?’
‘The victim’s name was Princess Elena Ostrepova; she was approximately forty-five years old.
‘Another Russian,’ snorted Meaker.
‘And I suppose you knew her too?’ asked Rock.
‘She was a good friend. Ran a cafe in the French Concession.’ Danilov avoided mentioning the Princess’s less legal activities.
‘I suppose she helped you with your investigations too?’
‘The Princess was one of my best informants. She knew what was happening in the city.’
‘So, once again, the one link between the murderer and the victim is you, Danilov.’ Coming from Rock’s mouth, it sounded like an accusation.
‘What do you mean, Chief Inspector?’
‘I hadn’t given it much credence until now, but Inspector Cartwright has pointed out you seem to be involved with these murders up to your neck.’
‘That’s ridiculous…’
‘Where were you when the body was found?’
‘Inspector Danilov was with me, sir,’ said Strachan.
‘So you two found the body together?’ asked Cartwright.
‘Well, not exactly, sir. I found the body, Inspector Danilov came along later.
‘This is ridiculous, Chief Inspector Rock. You can’t think I was involved in the deaths?’
‘Is it ridiculous, Danilov? Tell him what else Dr Fang found, Inspector Meaker.’
The man reached into a briefcase at his feet and pulled out a bag. ‘He found this, a cigarette end, pushed into the man’s mouth. Apparently, it became lodged between his teeth and wasn’t released when the man was untied.’
‘We’ve compared this cigarette with the ones in your ashtray, Danilov. And guess what? They are a match. An exact match.’ Cartwright sat back in his chair with his arms folded across his chest.
‘It must have been planted.’
‘Who by?’ asked the Chief Inspector. ‘I hope you are not suggesting it was either of these gentlemen.’ He pointed at Meaker and Cartwright.
Danilov gripped the desk in front of him, took two deep breaths and began speaking slowly. ‘I don’t know who placed the cigarette in the man’s mouth but I do know it wasn’t me.’
‘I’ve reached a decision, Danilov. You are removed from this case. You too, Strachan. Meaker and Cartwright will handle it from now on.’
‘But, Chief Inspector…’
‘I don’t think you were involved in these murders; at least, to my mind, it hasn’t been proven yet.’ He held his finger up. ‘But, you are far too close to these killings.’ He lowered his voice. ‘A detective has to be detached and dispassionate, Danilov, and in this case, you are neither.’
‘But Chief Inspector, we are so close…’
The stick crashed on to the table once more. ‘You’re off this case, Inspector. That is an order.’
Danilov stood up. ‘You’re making a mistake, Chief Inspector.’
Rock turned away and began writing on the blackboard.
Meaker sniggered behind his hand. Cartwright had a smug smile plastered all over his face.
Danilov turned away and walked towards the door. As he did so, he saw the map with its pictures of the victims pasted on it. In his mind, he added a picture of the Princess at the Cercle Sportif. What was he missing? Why was this irritating him?
‘Please carry on, Inspector Meaker,’ were the last words he heard as he closed the door.