Leo
Leo didn’t think any of them would forget the experience of searching Ellwood’s flat in Headington. His grandmother, his last living relative, had died in 2014 and he had been alone and able to indulge in his obsessive behaviour since then. A normal two-bedroom apartment in a newly-built block by the petrol station had been turned into a shrine to his fantasies. There was copious evidence that he had had previous fixations before the wild swimmer. He had had time to amass heaps of articles and clippings, and Leo dreaded to think what his computer would reveal. He was going to keep the police and the psychiatrists busy for a long time.
It would appear that the spark of his last and most deadly obsession was lit when he first read Jago Jackson’s book on cycling. Leo found that by his bedside, along with the one on wild swimming. Both were heavily annotated. From the three bikes stacked in the hall, Ellwood was a keen cyclist and Leo imagined that they would discover that he’d moved between attack sites on his own bikes. There were so many cyclists in Oxford, this would have made him blend. He could travel up and down the towpath numerous times and no one would notice. Only idiots begging to be caught, like Lucas Crouch, stop to take photos and act suspiciously.
‘Here, sir, you might like to look at this.’ Suyin took down from a pinboard in the kitchen a parish magazine for the church in Headington Quarry where he’d first impersonated Ken Kingston. The date was January 2014. ‘Looks like his grandparents were parishioners. There’s a mention of Mrs Ellwood in the recently departed section and notice of her funeral. I wonder why the witness Mrs Busby didn’t recognise him?’
‘She’s fairly new in Oxford. Moved here on the death of her husband. She wouldn’t have known the Ellwoods.’ He sealed it up in an evidence bag.
‘But it was a massive risk for him to take. What if someone who did know him saw him?’
‘He likes risk. He would’ve adapted, or abandoned his plan to go in. But he also watched and knew everyone’s routines so could be fairly sure she’d be alone.’
On the kitchen counter, in a pile of unopened post for his grandparents, Leo found a letter for the gym in Temple Cowley asking if Ellwood was going to take up membership after his free month’s trial – another link confirmed. Ruby Lonsdale’s boyfriend had worked as a personal fitness trainer there. Had Danny met Ellwood, told him too much about his talented girlfriend and how they kept fit? Leo suspected this was the case. It was certainly something to ask during interview. He had already made the connection running the membership list from the gym against the suspects – but this speeded things up as he could put it in front of Ellwood.
Suyin and Leo could hear Harry crowing in the grandparents’ bedroom. ‘Fucking pervert. The guy must’ve been a transvestite along with everything else. Look at all these clothes! He’s got scores of wigs in here and enough makeup to do a RuPaul.’
Leo went to look at what he’d found. The room still had that old lady scent of lavender talc. The wardrobe was bursting with male and female clothes of many different kinds. Among them would be a green-and-white ladies gym outfit and a smart white shirt and dark trousers belonging to the victims. ‘Bag them up.’
Harry checked a label on a slinky 1930s nightdress. ‘Naughty boy! Someone’s been stealing from the costume department.’
Leo was pleased to note he’d been right about that too. ‘The least of his sins, I’d say.’
Satisfied that there was enough evidence here to tie Ellwood to the murders, Leo handed over to his colleagues and returned to make his report to the superintendent. Though he had been frustrated by the slow pace of the investigation while living through it, Leo realised that only two weeks had passed since she’d first called him. That was a very quick turnaround for a murder case. The long haul really started now as they had to ensure a secure conviction. The team were left in no doubt that they mustn’t slip up on any details.
‘Good work, Leo. Please pass my congratulations on to your team,’ Superintendent Thaxted got up to shake his hand as he came in. ‘You’ll make yourself available for the press conference, I trust?’
He hated these moments, the top brass wanting to trumpet that an arrest had been made, he just wanted to get on with his job, but he knew what was expected. ‘Yes, ma’am.’
‘I’m wrangling with Windsor to get Ellwood transferred to our care but that should all be sorted by close of play today.’
‘Good. I’m eager to interview him.’
‘But you’ve got the evidence to nail him?’ She offered him a coffee which he refused. He’d drunk enough coffee to convert his bloodstream to pure caffeine.
‘Without a doubt. The only question is over his fitness to stand trial.’
‘Let the shrinks handle that. You look as though you could do with a night off. After the press conference, consider yourself ordered home. You won’t be able to question Ellwood before tomorrow at the earliest.’
This was exactly what he’d told his own team to do once they finished at the flat. ‘Yes, ma’am.’
In his garden, enjoying a solitary beer as the sun set behind the poplar trees, he contemplated the tasks ahead. A bee hung precariously from a purple cranesbill, its work ethic putting Leo’s to shame. There would be a full day of questioning tomorrow, if the psychiatrists allowed, and then the arrangements for the final loose ends to be tied on Wednesday. As he was in the superintendent’s good books, and because those involved were instrumental in capturing the killer, he didn’t anticipate any difficulty getting the required manpower.
Goldemort swam out to receive his tribute of fish food. Was that how he saw Leo: an acolyte coming to worship at the dark pool he dominated? Or was he the god of his world, coming at regular intervals to hand out blessings? Leo’s reflection rippled as a breeze disturbed the surface, a smudge of shadows. The waterlilies were closing for the night. He’d barely been here during the hours of daylight to appreciate their colours: scrambled egg yellow, soft pink and crocus purple. And from the looks of his diary this week, it would be a few days yet before he could catch up on the gardening. His work was not done until both men were put away where they couldn’t harm anyone.
And then what would he do? There was always another case, of course, and much more to achieve in the garden, but he was thinking rather about Jess Bridges. It would no longer be unprofessional to seek her out outside work if he so wished. He knew she was involved with … well, with various people, but there was just something about her that made him want to circle a little closer, be within the sound of her laughter. It’d been so long since he’d had anyone like her in his life.
He imagined her here, enjoying a drink in the garden. Yes, he thought that he’d like that. The question remained, though, whether he’d have the courage to ask.