She had a point.
Chapter 16
“The soil sample from the body is interesting, Inspector.” Julian pushed his spectacles back up his large nose. “It’s very rich in phosphorus—uncommonly so.”
“What’s the significance of that?” Ruth asked.
“Not sure. It could be anything. But I’ll investigate soil types around Leesworth and see if I can find anything similar.”
“Thanks, Julian.”
“Of course there could be a fairly simple explanation.” He peered again through the microscope and fell silent.
Calladine looked at Ruth and sighed with irritation. The forensic scientist was at it again.
“And that is?” Calladine tapped his foot impatiently.
“Fertiliser, Inspector. You’re obviously not a gardener.”
“Looks like I could be right about the bodies having been kept in someone’s backyard, sir.”
“If it was secluded enough and the plants tended—then yes—a garden would do,” Julian added.
“Perhaps he’s moving, got the place up for sale, sir, and that’s why he has to get rid of them.”
“If he’s young, like Rocco thinks, then perhaps the house is being sold from under him—by his parents.”
“Or even his landlord.”
Back to square one.
“Are we really going to have to trawl through all the property for sale in the area? It could take days and get us nowhere.”
Calladine’s mobile rang. “Rocco, what is it?”
“A woman’s rung in. She says she saw Patsy Lumis get off the train at Slaithwaite Station. She’s positive it was her; they’d been discussing her holiday in the USA during the journey,” Rocco reported.
“What have you arranged?”
“I’ve got her address and she’s waiting for you at home.”
“We’ll be back shortly. Have the folder of photos handy; she can have a good look at the ones of Patsy.”
“Right, Ruth, we’re off. Thanks, Julian. We’ll look into what you told us.”
“Before you go, Inspector—I did get a reasonable print off the ear tag. I’ve run it through the database but there’s no match, I’m afraid. However—if you do apprehend someone—then it’s another piece of evidence to fit into the jigsaw.”
“The word is when, Julian, not if.”
“Could be a job for Alice,” Ruth interposed, before the chat between the two men got out of hand. “She could look at the properties for sale in the area—those with gardens big enough—and then we could take a look.”
“Okay—get her on it. But going round to all those properties will be time-consuming. Once we have a list, we’ll keep it in case it proves useful. It’ll keep Alice out of our hair for a while.”
“Hang on just a moment, Inspector. I haven’t told you the very best piece of news yet. I’m getting the CCTV footage from the pub enhanced. I think I might be able to give you a reasonable look at him.”
Now that was a piece of good news. Just like Julian to leave it until last.
Calladine felt a surge of energy. If they could get a good enough photo distributed, they might be able to wind the whole thing up.
“You don’t have to say it, Inspector; the minute I have anything I’ll ring you on your mobile.”
* * *
Back at the nick, Imogen and Alice were engrossed in the two laptops.
“Imogen—carry on with analysing the stuff on the laptops for now, but I’ve got something else for Alice.” He turned to her. “Ring round the estate agents and compile a list of all the properties for sale in Leesworth which have a garden. We’re only interested in gardens with plants—plenty of soil. If they’ve been flagged over or are covered in gravel then you can forget them.”
Someone had to go to Slaithwaite. Calladine checked his watch.
He couldn’t afford to miss the call from Jo when it came. Devon DeAngelo worked in a different time zone and he had to be ready.
“Ruth. Rocco. Would you two go and speak to our witness and check out the area around the railway station? I’m waiting here for Jo to call, and then hopefully I can Skype the detective in New York.
We’ll reconvene about five. Is that okay with everyone?”
Heads nodded, and Rocco grabbed the folder.
* * *
“She was a lovely girl, so chatty,” Ruby Tunnicliffe told them with a smile. “She made that boring journey into a real pleasure.
We talked about all sorts, but particularly about my holiday in Miami last year. She’d been there too—stayed on a yacht, no less, and for a whole month.”
“Did she say who she was meeting that night, Mrs Tunnicliffe?”
Ruth asked.
“Well, she didn’t say much, just that he was a new boyfriend, someone she’d met online and only seen a couple of times. I did tell her to be careful—I mean you hear such stories, don’t you?
Anyway, she would have none of it. Her Jack, that’s what she called him, was the perfect bloke—if such a thing exists.” She rolled her eyes. “But apparently he wasn’t afraid to spend his money, and she seemed to like that.”
“Spend his money on what? Did she say if he’d bought her anything?”
“No, but he’d taken her for some fancy meal in Chinatown earlier in the week. Eaten like a pig, she had—or so she said.”
Ruth looked at Rocco—there were cameras all over that part of town.
“Did she say if they had this meal at night or during the day?”
He was hoping to pin the time down and save on all that CCTV watching.
“Lunchtime. Then he took her around the shops, but I don’t recall her saying they’d bought anything.”
“Thanks, Mrs Tunnicliffe. Would you mind coming with us to the railway station and pointing out exactly where he was waiting? We’ll bring you back home afterwards.”
Ten minutes later, Ruby Tunnicliffe was describing the sequence of events.
“He was in a van, a small white van parked just beyond that street light down there. He didn’t get out.” She frowned. “You’d have thought he would have helped her with her stuff; her bag was heavy. We talked for a moment or two—just here on these steps, but he must have been impatient because he tooted his horn. Then she went off. She waved, and then she was gone.”
“And they drove off in that direction? You didn’t see them turn around?” Ruth asked. The bastard was clever. He’d have seen Patsy talking to her and wouldn’t have wanted the woman to get a look at him.
“No—and I would have because I was waiting ten minutes for a taxi.”
The white van again. This was their man alright. Rocco ran Mrs Tunnicliffe home, while Ruth waited outside the station and rang in.
“We’re going to need the CCTV from Chinatown—say the last two days’ worth. Daytime footage. And someone needs to go through it to see if they can spot Patsy. She and our man ate there lunchtime. He spent money—some posh place—and that’s all we know. Also, it sounds very much like the same van. It might be an idea to check those registered to folk in Leesworth, big job or not.”
* * *
Calladine got the call from Jo at about three thirty that afternoon. Apparently it was nine thirty in New York, so DeAngelo would be at work. He left the nick and went straight home to boot up his laptop. He hadn’t used Skype before, but Jo had set him up an account and left instructions on how to use it. People did this all the time so it couldn’t be that difficult, he reasoned. He wasn’t averse to technology—it was simply that he didn’t use it much. A memo, a report, a few emails, was about the scope of his expertise.
Everything else he left to the others—notably Imogen.
But today technology was proving to be a little marvel. Minutes after arriving home and grabbing a mug of coffee, he was meeting Devon DeAngelo in cyberspace.
“Hi there, Detective!” The New Yorker became visible to him on the screen. “Nice to know you. Don’t get to speak to our Brit cousins very often. Jo tells me she’s got the hots for your daughter.” He laughed at this, as if it was completely ordinary. “So what can I do for you?”