Backlash (31 page)

‘We'll get leads,' Beresford said loyally.

‘I don't see how,' Paniatowski countered. She lit up a cigarette, though she didn't really want it. ‘Tell me honestly, Colin, if it wasn't for the red shoes, would we be linking these two murders together at all?'

‘We might,' Beresford said. ‘After all, they were both whipped.'

‘Yes, but the whippings were so different,' Paniatowski said. ‘Just as everything else about the murders was different. If we assume the late Mr Taylor Brown was guilty . . .'

‘He was. It was just a stroke of luck that we found some of Elaine Kershaw's nightdress in the remains of the fire at the bottom of his garden – I'll admit that – but we
did
find it.'

‘. . . then we also assume that the reason he killed Elaine – or got his partner to kill her – was to get his revenge on Kershaw.'

‘True.'

‘But if that's the case, why did he have Grace killed as well? She can't have meant anything to him. And it wasn't a practice run, because, as we've already said, the two murders were so different.'

‘Maybe Grace's murder was meant to be nothing but a distraction,' Beresford suggested. ‘Maybe he thought that if we were looking for Grace's murderer, we'd have less resources to devote to finding Elaine.'

If that was the plan, it worked, Paniatowski thought. And it worked because I
let
it work – because I was so angry that Grace had no one else fighting for her that I focussed a lot of the investigation on her. But did I focus
too
much?

The phone rang. It was Shastri.

‘I have finished the autopsy on Elaine Kershaw, Monika,' she said.

Not, ‘How are you on this fine day, my dear Chief Detective Inspector?' Paniatowski noted.

Not, ‘If you are planning to burden a poor Indian doctor with even more corpses, could you please tell me now, so I can cancel what little life I still have left outside work.'

No, just, ‘I have finished the autopsy on Elaine Kershaw, Monika.'

Shastri not only cut up dead women, she knew when she was talking to one on the phone – and
that
was why she had put aside her customary levity.

‘Did you discover anything interesting?' Paniatowski asked, though her heart wasn't really in it.

‘I discovered several interesting things,' Shastri said, ‘and when you have a little free time, Monika, I suggest you come down to the morgue, so that we can discuss them.'

‘I've got some free time now,' Paniatowski said.

And that was no lie, because, without any new leads to follow, she had all the time in the world.

TWENTY-TWO

T
here was no doubt at all that Brian Waites would be able to pick out the two people he was supposed to be meeting, Crane thought. The rest of the customers in the George and Dragon were clearly ordinary working people – shop girls and foundry workers, painters and hairdressers – while he and Meadows, in all their finery, stood out like a beef supper at a vegetarian feast.

It was one minute past six when the man entered the pub. He was wearing a typical salesman's suit – the sort of suit which proclaims to the customer that while he might quite like to make the sale, he was certainly not desperate to. He was perhaps a couple of years younger than his sister, and though he could not have been called handsome, he had a certain buccaneering air about him which many women might find attractive and which also hinted that he knew a good, dirty sex toy when he saw one.

Waites walked over to their table, and looked down at them.

‘So which one of you would be Miss Quill?' he asked, then laughed – as if to suggest that even though he had made the joke himself, he hadn't heard it before and really found it quite witty.

‘I'm Katie Quill,' Meadows said, ‘and my friend is Detective Chief Superintendent Crane of the Vice Squad.'

‘Ho, ho, very droll,' Waites said, though he obviously considered it well below his own contribution in the comedic stakes.

‘Do take a seat, Mr Waites,' Meadows invited, and once he had sat down she reached into her pocket, held out her warrant card, and said, ‘Surprise!'

Waites would have been back on his feet in a second, had it not been for the fact that Crane's heavy hand had already descended on his shoulder.

‘Take it easy, Brian,' Crane said. ‘You nearly knocked our drinks over.'

‘This is entrapment,' Waites complained.

‘In strictly legal terms, it's nothing of the kind,' Meadows said. ‘What it actually is, is two smart bobbies running rings round a greedy little bleeder with itchy fingers.' She paused for a second. ‘But that's neither here nor there,' she continued, ‘because we haven't come to arrest you – we're here to make a deal.'

‘A deal?' Waites said, licking his lips.

‘That's right,' Meadows agreed, ‘and here's how it works. You help us with our investigation and we'll pretend we've never seen you. On the other hand, you fail to help us and we'll have the cuffs on you before you can say “kinky boots”. Because we like making arrests, don't we, Detective Chief Superintendent Crane?'

‘We love it,' Crane said.

‘What do you want me to do?' Waites asked.

‘We want you to tell us about a couple of pairs of red, high-heeled shoes,' Meadows told him.

Shastri led Paniatowski into the morgue's staffroom.

‘If you wish, I can get you a cup of coffee from the machine,' she said. ‘We call it “death warmed up”, but that is more a reflection on the macabre way we see things here than on the coffee itself, which is really quite nice.'

‘I don't feel like a coffee,' Paniatowski said.

‘Very well, then let us sit down,' Shastri suggested.

They sat facing each other.

‘Am I right in assuming that this case is causing you more difficulties than most?' Shastri asked. ‘That it is, perhaps, putting your career in some jeopardy?'

‘More or less,' Paniatowski agreed.

‘You are not likely to be drummed out of the service though, are you?'

‘No, not quite that.'

‘So if the worst comes to the worst, you will probably be moved to some sort of administrative post?'

‘That's right – chief inspector in charge of female officers' welfare and paper clip sorting,' Paniatowski said bitterly.

‘I wonder if you have looked at the positive side of that,' Shastri said. ‘You would certainly be healthier, because without the strains of your current position you would probably smoke and drink less.'

‘Or more – because I'd be so bloody bored.'

‘And you would have more time to spend with Louisa.'

‘Yes, but would I be any bloody good for her?'

‘I do not quite follow.'

‘Louisa's the most important thing in the world to me – by far – but my job comes a very strong second. It's what I do. It's what I am. It defines me. Without this job, I wouldn't be the mother Louisa knows. I'd just be the shell of what I used to be.' Paniatowski paused. ‘We've never had a conversation like this one before,' she continued, suspiciously. ‘Why are we having it now?'

‘Perhaps it is because, when you entered the morgue, I saw the light of hope in your eyes – as if you were expecting a miracle from me.'

‘You've pulled off miracles before,' Paniatowski pointed out.

‘Yes, I have,' Shastri agreed. ‘But I am afraid that this time I have failed you. I can offer you no clues to your killer. In fact, I am not sure if, legally, he can be called a killer at all.'

‘What!'

‘Mrs Kershaw died of a heart attack. Her heart had a congenital weakness, though it's more than possible that she was not aware of it. She could have died walking down the street – or sitting at home watching television.'

‘But surely what caused the heart attack was the wounds on her back,' Paniatowski protested. ‘They were horrific. They almost cut her in half. Even a healthy person might have a heart attack under those conditions.'

‘The whipping was indeed very vicious,' Shastri agreed. ‘But it was inflicted post-mortem.'

‘Are you sure?'

‘I'm absolutely sure.'

‘But why would anyone do that?'

‘I have absolutely no idea.'

It was crazy, Paniatowski thought. It was completely insane.

‘And that's it?' she demanded. ‘That's all you've got for me?' She was suddenly drowning in guilt. ‘I'm sorry,' she added hastily. ‘I know you did you best, like you always do.'

‘There is one more thing,' Shastri said, throwing Paniatowski a bone, even though she was sure it contained nothing nourishing.

‘Yes?'

‘The two women were dressed in identical made-to-measure shoes.'

‘I know.'

‘But Grace could never have walked in the pair she was wearing. She had surprisingly large feet for a woman her size, and taking even a few steps in them would have been agony.'

She didn't
have to
walk in them – Paniatowski thought. All she had to do was
stand
in them – with her arms chained above her head – while the killer lashed her with his whip.

‘Elaine's shoes, on the other hand, were a perfect fit,' Shastri continued. ‘Don't you English have a phrase for that? Something about fitting like a glove?'

‘That's right.'

‘Then Elaine's shoes fitted her like a glove. And so did Grace's shoes.'

‘I thought you said that Grace's were much too small for her,' Paniatowski said.

‘Ah, I have not made myself clear,' Shastri replied. ‘When I put
Grace's
shoes on
Elaine's
feet, they too fitted her like a glove.'

‘Tell us about the Lady Zelda shoes,' Meadows said.

‘A lovely piece of merchandise, they were,' Brian Waites said. ‘I'm not into that sort of kinkiness myself – I'm more the straight on top, wham, bam, thank you ma'am type of feller – but I have to admit that just holding them made me feel a wee bit horny.'

‘How fascinating,' Meadows said. ‘Remind me to look you up if I ever feel like being treated as a piece of meat.'

‘There's no need to be like that,' Waites said, offended. ‘I can be a real gentleman, too, when the situation calls for it.'

‘You sold two pairs of the shoes to the same customer, didn't you?' Crane said.

‘That's right, I did.'

‘And also a Bride of Dracula corset?'

Waites chuckled. ‘And much more besides. She was my best customer – she must have bought half the catalogue. And some of the stuff – like the red shoes – was such a turn-on for her that she bought a spare.'

‘She!' Meadows exclaimed. ‘Did you say
she
?'

‘That's right.'

‘You're sure you're not confusing things? You're certain it wasn't a man you dealt with?'

‘Like I said, she was my best customer. I'm not likely to confuse
her
, now am I?'

Meadows remembered what she herself had told Crane in the Pride of Bolton:
the killer has a vision of how this whole grisly business should be carried out – and those red shoes are part of it. They're in his head. He's got to have them – whatever the consequences.

And she still believed that, though now she was beginning to see that whilst he might have been compulsive, he had been far from reckless.

‘Did she have a man with her, this customer of yours?' she asked Waites.

‘No.'

He had been very clever, Meadows thought.

‘Actually, what I just told you isn't strictly accurate,' Waites said. ‘Her husband
was
there on one occasion – but I don't think he meant to be.'

‘What do you mean by that?'

‘I'd made an arrangement to call round in the afternoon, but one of my other appointments had fallen through, so I dropped by late morning instead. The husband was upstairs. I think he must have been shaving or something, because he had the radio on. Anyway, possibly
because of
the radio, I don't think he even knew I was there until he'd started coming down the stairs.'

Meadows felt her pulse rate jump.

‘What did he look like?' she asked.

‘I couldn't really say.'

‘You
saw
him, didn't you?'

‘Yes, but only from behind, because I was talking to the customer, and by the time I turned, her husband was already heading for the kitchen.'

So he could leave by the
back
door, Meadows thought.

So he wouldn't have to walk past Waites, and let the salesman get a good look at him.

‘You must have got
some
impression of the man,' she said.

‘He was a tall man, with broad shoulders.'

Not Taylor Brown then, but his partner, Meadows thought.

‘Can you tell me anything else about him?' she asked.

‘I'd guess he was about fifteen or twenty years older than her.'

‘What makes you think that?'

‘Well, for a start, his hair was nearly white.'