Dead Lucky

‘Really? Have you informed the uniforms guarding his room?’

‘Yes, and the friends you’ve been making at the hospital.’

‘Sackville’s a journalist.’

‘No press,’ interrupted Tillman.

‘Whatever you say. What is my team on this?’

‘You’ll be the SIO and head our team. We’ll use outside help where necessary. You’ll be needing this.’ Tillman handed him a policy book.

Lambert smirked. Tillman was not renowned for following the rules. When they’d been part of The Group, the majority of the investigations had been so secretive that there was little or no record of them.

‘You can laugh, but there is a lot of attention on this so do it right.’

Lambert left the room, still confused as to the importance given to the case. His team were assembled in the office, studying their laptops and case notes. Kennedy approached. ‘How did it go with Mr Sackville?’

He relayed the conversation, noticing how intently Kennedy listened, her wide green eyes rarely diverting from his. ‘Shall I get everyone together?’ she asked.

Lambert nodded.

It was strange to head up a team after so long. Lambert stood in front of the six-strong team and called for silence. The team stared back at him, their faces a mixture of apathy and curiosity. He told them about his meeting with Sackville.

‘What do we have in the way of family members?’ he asked the room in general.

‘It’s a weird one, sir,’ said Kennedy. ‘There doesn’t seem to be anyone in the way of immediate family. Both sets of parents have long since passed away. Both Mr and Mrs Sackville are only children. They married twenty-five years ago but are childless.’

Lambert paused. ‘That might be relevant. Close friends, colleagues?’

‘I’ve arranged a meeting with the editor of Sackville’s paper for this morning,’ said Kennedy.

‘Good. Let’s find out what he was working on. Get to know his colleagues. What about our victim?’

A young DC, the newest member of the team, Steve Devlin got to his feet. ‘Mrs Sackville worked as a librarian,’ he said. ‘Dulwich Library. I’m planning to head over there after this, sir.’

‘Give that to Kennedy,’ said Lambert, noting the look of disappointment on Devlin’s face. ‘Sackville gave me the name “Prue McKenzie” when we talked. Kennedy, find out who she is. Get her thoughts on what happened. If Sackville’s recollection is correct then we seem to have a killer who’s not scared to take his time. Why did he make Eustace watch?’ asked Lambert, thinking aloud.

‘It’s not that uncommon,’ said Kennedy. ‘Could be a power thing. Gets off on having his handiwork observed.’

‘Let’s check on The System for any similar cases where someone was forced to witness another’s murder.’

‘Why the wrists?’ asked Devlin.

‘Good point. The cause of death was two vertical incisions, one to each wrist. The autopsy may give us more. It was a long, slow death. Sackville seemed to think that was the killer’s intention. Again, that might be significant.’

‘It’s reminiscent of suicide obviously,’ said Kennedy.

‘Yes,’ agreed Lambert. ‘But the most important thing for now is to find out as much detail about Mr and Mrs Sackville. It’s imperative we have some idea of motive.’

‘What are you thinking, sir?’ asked Kennedy.

‘From what Eustace Sackville told me, we are looking at someone professional. A killer who gained entry into the flat undetected, who had the patience and confidence to stay at the scene as Moira died. This was planned in advanced and Moira wasn’t a random target.’

Chapter 6 (#ulink_64165019-ba0f-5d03-9acb-7faf3a546853)

‘Kennedy, a word,’ Tillman summoned her in just as the briefing ended. ‘Shut the door.’

‘Yes, sir,’ said Matilda.

‘Sit down.’

Matilda took a seat opposite her superior. He’d taken his jacket off and his pale blue shirt was tight against his body, as if constraining the flesh within. His head stood atop the widest shoulders she’d ever seen. He was like a prop-forward of a rugby team. Conspicuous muscle covered by a layer of fat.

‘Update.’

‘Shouldn’t you be speaking to Lambert about that, sir?’ She tilted her head, toying with him, wondering how far she could push.

Tillman stared straight ahead. ‘As we discussed before, I want you to keep an eye on him. This is the first major case he’s headed since he came back to us. You know his past.’

Matilda knew some of it. Lambert had been out of the force for the last two years. A few months ago he’d captured a serial killer who’d been active for over twenty years, by all accounts almost single-handed.

‘I’m not going to spy on him Glenn, if that’s what you want. Jesus, is that why…’

Tillman cut her off with a wave of his hand. ‘Don’t be so ridiculous, Kennedy.’ He looked genuinely aggrieved by her comment. They sat opposite each other in awkward silence, Matilda recalling the other evening where they’d both stayed on late at the local bar. Her ludicrous invitation for him to come back to her flat, and his even more ludicrous acceptance.

‘I just want you to be mindful,’ he said, breaking the silence. ‘Let me know if he does anything out of the ordinary. He has a habit of doing things his own way. Just keep me updated.’

‘Is there anything else, sir?’ said Matilda, standing.

Tillman rubbed his chin, a bead of sweat dripping from his brow. She wanted to ask him about the other night but it wasn’t the right place or time.

‘Shall we save that for another time, Matilda?’

Matilda nodded and left his office, leaving the door ajar.

Lambert was still in the office, sitting alone, staring intently at his computer screen, but she knew he’d clocked her leaving Tillman’s office. She walked over, noticing with surprise how fresh he looked despite being up all night waiting for Sackville to come round.

‘Kennedy,’ he said.

‘Sir?’

‘Anything new to tell me?’

‘No.’

‘What’s your next move?’

‘I have an address for Prue McKenzie. I’m off to see her. I’m afraid it’ll be one of those visits. She doesn’t know about Moira’s death.’