Monday’s classes were spent in a frenzy of teaching, debate and assignment setting. The students were by and large good-humoured, but Carla began to get a sense of underlying tension. Even this early in the term, her class members were competitive and determined to do well. If anyone was struggling, they weren’t admitting it to Carla, who was always on the lookout for the anxious and stressed amongst her students. She kept an eye open between classes to see if she could grab Jack for a brief consultation. She needed help to decipher the significance of Stella’s shoes, which she was sure were part of the same ritual protection being harnessed by the killer. The more evidence she could find to back up her witch bottle theory, the greater her chances of getting Viv to take her seriously. Jack, however, was proving elusive and books from the college library weren’t helping her to get to the heart of the matter.
Her afternoon group, she remembered, had a class with Jack before hers and she tracked down the room number and hung around as the doors opened. Unsurprisingly there was a gaggle of female students hanging around to chat with him, including Julia, who she’d be teaching in a quarter of an hour. His groupies, thought Carla sourly. When he caught sight of her in the doorway, he extracted himself and came over to her, not before she’d spotted a flash of displeasure on Julia’s face.
‘You wanted me?’
‘I do, but I don’t think you’ll be able to answer my question in ten minutes. It’s work related. Are you around later?’
‘Of course. Do you want to meet in my office?’
‘I’m teaching until five. Are you OK to hang about until then?’
‘Not a problem. Can you give me a clue what we’re going to talk about? I’d hate to disgrace myself professionally.’
‘Glittery shoes and witchcraft.’
‘Ah. I see. My specialism. Am I allowed to suggest The Wizard of Oz?’ He caught a glance at her expression. ‘Well, I shall get my thinking cap on and hope you’ll be sufficiently impressed.’
He didn’t return to the seminar room but took the opportunity to slip away back to his office. Carla looked at her watch and saw she had a few more minutes before class and needed to check something with Perez. While she had Jack’s full attention later, she’d run past anything that might help the argument she was constructing. It really wasn’t much different to developing an academic argument. Make sure it’s well developed, backed up with examples and have an answer for any counter-arguments. The receptionist at the precinct put her through without any hesitation and Carla explained her reason for the call to Perez.
‘I looked at the photos of Jessica Sherwood,’ said Carla, ‘but I didn’t make a note of the contents of the room. I was looking for a pattern, but I think I need to focus on how individual items might link to a much wider design. Do you think you could read out what you found in the living room so I can make a list?’
‘What, every item? What do you think this is, Property Brothers?’
The reference was lost on Carla. Must be some kind of TV house show. ‘Not the furniture. Just maybe things that might not always be there. That could be moved between rooms, for example.’
Perez sighed. ‘Fine, but lucky you got me and not Baros on this one.’
That’s why I called you, thought Carla, hanging on while Perez called up the list on the screen.
‘OK, here goes. There was an open bottle of wine and half a glass full on the table.’
‘I noticed that in the photos. Did her bloods show she’d been drinking alcohol?’
There was a pause. ‘No alcohol present in the blood.’
Carla jotted down ‘wine’. ‘Carry on.’
‘The usual living room stuff. Lamps, cushions, a rug. You can carry them between rooms, but there was no evidence they belonged anywhere else. Miss Sherwood was a quiltmaker and there was her quilting stuff in the room.’
‘Can you itemise them for me?’
Perez gave a longer sigh. Very soon she’d run out of breath to increase her puffs. ‘Right. Fabric, a quilt in progress, thread, needles, scissors.’
‘Can I just stop you. What colour thread?’
‘Red cotton in the needle, which matched the quilt.’
‘You mean she prepared the quilts by hand?’
‘I… I don’t know. Quilting isn’t my thing.’
‘Me neither, but I’d assume you’d use a machine.’ Carla wrote ‘red thread’ on her list. ‘Anything else?’
‘I think that’s it. Got any ideas, prof?’ The detective’s tone was hopeful.
Carla considered her answer. She really needed an ally inside the police other than Viv, but she had to be careful how much she revealed. Perez’s ultimate loyalty would be to her colleagues, not Carla. ‘I’m just wondering if I can connect Jessica Sherwood’s death with Tiffany Stoker’s. If I can, it’ll be to do with the contents of the room or something found on her person. It’s early stages, so keep it to yourself.’
‘What about Madison Knowles?’
‘I don’t know. I found some burn marks on the windowsill which might fit in with what I’m thinking about. Did you see them?’
‘Candle marks according to forensics. Students are always burning things. Patchouli in the Seventies; essential oils in the Nineties. These days, candles from Macy’s.’
‘But they were high up on the frame.’
‘Yeah, we noticed that. We thought either a tall candlestick or she’d picked it up maybe while answering a call and had held it too close to the wood.’
And Erin thinks my theory is bonkers, thought Carla. ‘Is there anything else in Madison’s room that might not have been in the images I looked at, something that might not have been deemed important enough to photograph.’
‘You saw it all except the contents of the wastepaper basket. Want me to read them out?’ Perez sounded almost eager to help.
‘Sure.’ Carla looked at her watch. She had precious little time until her next class.
‘OK, here goes: scrunched-up paper, very little on them except for doodles.’
‘Doodles?’ Carla’s heart leapt. ‘What design were the drawings?’
‘Design?’
‘You said there were jottings on the paper in the basket. What were they?’
Carla expected another sigh, but there was silence.
‘Did you photograph them?’ asked Carla.
‘Of course they were photographed. Hold on.’ Carla waited, anticipation making her jumpy.
‘OK. Five sheets of paper in total. Writing in blue ink was consistent with course notes. Madison was studying English Literature, so there were references to texts she was studying. We had them checked out.’
‘And the doodles?’
‘A load of circles with a flower in them. They were written in black ink, so Madison must have changed pens.’
Hallelujah, thought Carla. ‘Were they checked out?’
‘Of course. Nothing doing apparently.’
‘OK. Can you tell me exactly who looked at these designs?’
Perez sighed. ‘If you think it’s important. You’ll have to give me time to find out the name of the expert, OK?’
After her class had finished, Carla presented herself at Jack’s office. He might have only been tenured for a year, but he had made himself at home in the space. Unlike Albert’s higgledy-piggledy mess, Jack’s room was a study in restrained academia. The scant books lining an oak bookcase were key texts he was teaching on his course but not the battered editions she’d expect from someone opening and studying the works to prepare a syllabus. Jack noticed her glance.
‘Every year, Anna buys me new hardcover copies of my coursebooks. I tell her to stop, but it’s become a tradition. And remember, Jericho loves tradition.’
His honesty disarmed her. ‘Do you have copies that you actually read?’
He opened a drawer and brought out a thick book missing its cover. ‘There you go.’
Carla laughed. ‘That’s more like it.’
He put his fingers to his lips. ‘Don’t tell anyone. They think I’m more style than substance.’
‘Who’s they?’
Jack wouldn’t be drawn. ‘Take a seat. What’s all this about the shoes? I’m assuming it’s something to do with the woman at Silent Brook?’
‘Connected to her. If I told you a woman was wearing a pair of high-heeled shoes two sizes too small covered in silver glitter, what would that say to you in terms of house protection?’
Jack leant back in his chair, his gaze on her. ‘So that’s what this is about. Well, shoes can be found in a house tucked in a cupboard or the usual places you might find a witch bottle, such as behind a fireplace. They’re often singular; one is enough as it holds the imprint of a person’s soul, which allows the shoe to entrap evil entities. Any cache of objects hidden around the home for this purpose, we call “spiritual middens”. It’s an academic term, but laypeople with an interest in the subject use it too.’
‘What about two shoes? Can you think of any significance at all?’
‘There have been examples of pairs found under floorboards and so on, but I have to tell you I don’t think I know of a single case of silver glitter.’
Carla laughed again, the conversation cheering her up. She thrived on her ideas being challenged. ‘I think I deserve that. Can I ask you about specific items found within witch bottles? I mentioned them briefly at dinner the other evening. I’ve looked up what I’d expect to find in the bottles, urine, wine, hair, but I’m looking for more oblique references. I’m trying to tease something out.’
‘I’ll do my best.’
‘First up is wine.’
‘Wine? There’s certainly evidence of that substance being found in the bottles. There’s a history of wine being used to ward off evil. One method involves infusing the liquid with St John’s wort seeds, snapdragon and wintergreen. People believed snapdragons protected you against curses.’
‘What about wine from a bottle?’
‘The symbolism is the same. A witch bottle was found in England containing wine mixed with urine.’
‘Right.’ Carla looked at the next item on the list. ‘What about red thread?’
‘Was it attached to a needle?’
‘Apparently, yes.’
‘Was it knotted?’
‘I think so.’
‘You’re dealing with two things there. Knotted thread is found on witches’ ladders. Do you know them?’
‘Not at all.’
‘It’s where threads and human hair are wound around a stick. It’s perfectly possible they were put in witch bottles, but I don’t recall any instances. The needle, however, serves a similar purpose to nails. Cold iron is traditionally considered to repel witches and other creatures. It partially accounts for the popularity of horseshoes.’
Carla was overcome with a wave of exhaustion and sat back. So many different references but a mishmash of imagery. It was as if the killer – if her pattern theory was correct – was a magpie, happy to pick and choose whatever suited their needs.
‘Carla, what’s this all about?’ asked Jack.
‘I think Jericho’s got a serial killer who’s an expert on witch bottles.’
Jack froze, his expression difficult to read. ‘I see. Do you think I might know this person in the course of my work?’
‘I don’t know. There’s the sense of a personality who knows enough to use the elements individually but not in their true form. They’re happy to swap an iron horseshoe for a cheap trinket, for example. I don’t think we’re looking for an academic.’
‘Then I’d be inclined to leave it to the professionals. You put a foot wrong and any defence lawyer for whoever they catch will have a field day with your involvement. Think about it. You don’t want to be messing up an investigation.’
‘Viv knows of my theory.’
‘Then fine, but remember your training. You can find patterns anywhere if you look closely enough. Who’s to say that the thread doesn’t just belong to someone’s quilt-making kit?’
Carla stood and shoved her notebook into her bag. ‘I appreciate your help.’
Jack looked as if he wanted to say something else but smiled. ‘Sure. Have a great evening.’
Only as she was driving home did she remember that at no point had she mentioned Jessica Sherwood or her quilt-making hobby.