‘How does he get them out?’ Finally DC Stevens had spoken. He didn’t say much Helen thought to herself, but his question was on the money.
‘Isobel Lansley had traces of something sticky in her hair. We sent it off for tests and found that it was an industrial solvent,’ Helen replied. ‘It’s called trichloroethylene.’
‘What’s it used for?’ Sanderson asked.
‘All manner of things,’ Helen answered. ‘Cleaning work surfaces, degreasing metal parts, you find it in boot polish and dry-cleaning chemicals, plus historically people have used it to get high.’
‘And would it knock you out?’
‘It was trialled as an alternative to chloroform in the 1920s, a form of anaesthetic, before being taken on by industry – so there’s no question it could incapacitate you. As with chloroform, a soaked rag over the mouth and nose would do the trick.’
The team were silent once more. This latest development was sinister and unnerving.
‘To administer it, he would have to get close to them,’ said DC Lucas, picking up the thread. ‘But there were no breakages, no sign of a struggle in Ruby’s flat, so…’
‘She must have trusted them enough to let them get close,’ DS Fortune offered.
‘Or the victims were already asleep,’ Sanderson interrupted. ‘We know Ruby had had a big night out. She could have conked out and then…’
More silence.
‘Let’s go back to the flats,’ Helen continued. ‘I know this was a while ago, but check if any of the long-term residents remember seeing any authority figures around the flats late at night. Anything that struck them as unusual. There has to be a reason why this guy never leaves a trace. How does he get in?’
The team broke up, directed to their tasks by an energized DS Fortune. Helen watched them go. Progress had been modest, but finally they had a few pieces of the jigsaw, providing the unit with a well-needed morale boost. Perhaps they were finally inching close to understanding their killer’s MO.
Helen’s reflections were interrupted by her mobile phone ringing. She was surprised to see it was James calling. Her downstairs neighbour, a handsome junior doctor at South Hants hospital, had been friendly at first, but had backed off when it became clear that Helen had no interest in being another notch on his bedpost. Puzzled, Helen answered it quickly.
‘James?’
‘You better get back here, Helen.’
‘Why what’s up? Please don’t tell me there’s been another leak.’
‘They’re in your flat.’
‘Who?’
‘Police. Half a dozen of them. You need to get back here NOW.’
91
Helen took the stairs three at a time. By the time she reached the top floor, she was sweating slightly, but she didn’t hesitate – bursting through the doors. She had been expecting the worst, but even so the sight that met her eyes rendered her speechless.
Her flat – her precious flat – was being turned over. Six officers, all sheathed in forensics suits, were taking the place apart. Opening desk drawers, checking under tables, bagging her laptop and iPad.
‘Would someone explain to me what the fuck is going on?’ Helen roared, holding up her warrant card. ‘I’m a Detective Inspector with Hampshire Police, this is my flat and you are in the wrong place.’
‘Actually we’re in the right place,’ a middle-aged woman with a bad haircut shot back, holding up her warrant card. ‘DS Lawton, Anti-Corruption.’
Helen stared at the ID, but couldn’t take it in.
‘Anti-Corruption?’
‘Exactly and we have a warrant to search your flat.’
Helen snatched the piece of paper from Lawton’s hand and scanned it, searching for details of the who, what, why. Predictably it was bland and uninformative.
‘Why are you here? What are you looking for?’
The searching officers didn’t even bother to respond to that one.
‘I am currently running a major investigation. I don’t know what you think you’re doing but I can assure you that Hampshire Police are going to kick you all the way back to whatever hole you -’
‘Cool your boots, DI Grace. We know who you are and what you’re up to. But know this – it was one of your own lot that called us in, so perhaps you could let us get on with our job and save the abuse for someone else?’
With a scowl, Lawton turned back to the task in hand. Helen stood stock still, reeling from this latest revelation. She was none the wiser as to their intent, but now at least it was clear to her who was ultimately responsible.
92
‘You have no right do this. Whatever has happened between us in the past, you have no right to spread lies about me.’
An incandescent Helen faced Ceri Harwood across her desk.
‘I’m going to make an official complaint to Fisher -’
‘What makes you think I’ve been telling lies,’ Harwood replied coolly. Helen was unnerved by her tone, but carried on nevertheless.
‘Anti-Corruption? Really? I think my record shows which side of the fence I’m on.’
She was referring to Harwood’s predecessor – Detective Superintendent Whittaker – whom she had rightly handed to Anti-Corruption on a plate.
‘Which makes your actions all the more surprising, Helen.’
Still that coolness.
‘What do you mean?’
‘I’d like to play you something,’ Harwood replied. ‘The original is with Anti-Corruption, hence this morning’s fun and games. I made this copy for our files.’
Helen tensed as Harwood pressed play on her small portable player. What game was this?
Silence, then shuffling, the finally voices. Helen immediately recognized her voice – and that of DI Tom Marsh. For a moment, Helen was struck dumb. Why the hell would he have been recording their conversation? He had no idea Helen was going to doorstep him in Northamptonshire…
She had been set up. DI Marsh had been in on it from the start – he had recorded Helen asking him to leak classified information to her, to compromise ongoing undercover work, to risk the lives of serving officers… the charge list was endless. And Harwood had it all on tape.
‘I told you not to go near this. No, I ordered you not to go near Robert Stonehill,’ Harwood continued. ‘But you ignored me. I’m not sure yet how you accessed the file on him, but I’ll find out.’
Immediately Helen thought of Charlie. What had she dragged her into?
‘File?’ Helen queried, keeping her expression as neutral as possible.
‘Don’t be coy, Helen. The only way you could know about the involvement of DI Marsh is from having read the unredacted file.’
‘I don’t recall any file.’
‘Good God, Helen, if that’s the best you can do, you really are for the high jump. Anti-Corruption are going through your flat with a fine toothcomb – when they find the evidence they need, then you’ll be gone. And not a moment too soon.’
Helen stared at her superior. There was something different about her today. Even at the point of her triumph, she looked weary and empty. As if her own hatred had eaten her from within. She had laid a complex trap to catch Helen and it had worked. So why did she seem so dispirited?
‘Was any of it true? The fight in Northampton? Robert’s association with the police?’
‘I’m afraid that’s classified.’
And no doubt would remain so. Helen’s anger was spiking now, the thought of how her personal life – her deepest vulnerabilities – had been used against her made her blood boil. She had underestimated Harwood’s thirst for vengeance and was reaping the reward for her complacency.