Blood Axe (17 page)

38

Ted set about
contacting organisers of the Festival to gather a list of the stall holders who had been in York selling Viking memorabilia. While there was a nucleus of people who turned up every year, there was also some movement of one-offs and new stall holders, people coming and going as they joined or went out of circulation. It would take some time to establish a definitive list of stall holders who had attended the Festival every year. Not many would have had axes for sale, but Ian was keen to contact every one of them in case they could recall anyone else selling weapons. It was highly unlikely that the organisers could have overlooked one of the registered stall holders. Nevertheless it was possible other stall holders might remember some snippet of information that had not been officially recorded; someone registered to sell ornaments or other knick knacks who had a few axes on display as well. If one of the vendors could recall selling an axe to Andrew, and give them a lead to help identify the axe with the algiz rune inscribed on the blade, it might assist them in gaining a conviction later on.

On Tuesday morning, Ian returned to Jorvik shortly before the museum was due to open. Ralph led him wordlessly up the stairs to an office where Oliver and Sophie were sitting clutching mugs of tea. Jimmy was nowhere to be seen. Oliver was leaning forward, gazing at Sophie and talking earnestly in an undertone. Seeing Ian enter, he fell silent. Looking around at the faces watching him, Ian thought about what George had said. The killer could be in the room with him right now, waiting for him to speak. He began by enquiring about Jimmy.

‘He's always late,' Ralph explained, ‘but we'll be able to tell you anything you want to know, and you can talk to Jimmy when he gets here. I can give him a bell if you want and find out what time he's going to be here. He's probably on his way.'

Ralph smiled uneasily, Oliver stared morosely at the floor, and Sophie gazed at Ian, wide-eyed.

‘First of all, I need you to give me as much information as you can about the Festival,' Ian said, after a pause. ‘Nothing is too small to be of possible significance.'

‘What do you want to know?' Ralph asked.

Ian took out his notebook and jotted down their remarks. His earlier shyness forgotten, Oliver became quite animated talking about Viking axes. Even his gaze seemed more direct and his expression grew lively as he talked about the ideal weight of an axe head relative to the length of the handle.

‘I haven't memorised the details of all the weapons here,' he added with an embarrassed laugh. ‘Of course the Vikings weren't the first people to use axes in battle,' he went on, ‘although they were possibly the most skilled in their use, ever, and certainly they were at the time.'

Sophie sat staring at Oliver all the time he was speaking. At last, he fell silent and nudged Sophie with his elbow, nodding at her and jerking his head in Ian's direction.

‘What is it?' Ian asked, gathering from the dumb show that Oliver wanted Sophie to say something.

‘Go on,' Oliver urged her in an undertone. ‘You said you wanted to tell him. Now's your chance. Go on.'

‘Sophie, if there's something you want to say, is now a good time?' Ralph asked.

‘It's nothing...'

‘Let the police decide whether it's important or not,' Oliver interrupted her. ‘Tell him.'

‘Should this wait until after the inspector's gone?' Ralph repeated.

‘It's the inspector she needs to tell,' Oliver replied.

There was nothing more galling than to learn a lead had been held back because a witness thought information wasn't important.

Ian turned to the girl. ‘Sophie, what is it?'

She glanced at Ian and blushed.

‘It's just that I think I might have been followed home last night,' she muttered.

Ralph cleared his throat but he didn't speak, and Sophie's blush deepened. Ian considered what she had said. Sophie was quite attractive, delicate, with shoulder-length blonde hair, wide blue eyes and dainty features. It was possible some young man had taken a fancy to her and was following her home, but he couldn't see what that had to do with the investigation.

‘What time was this?'

‘We close at four in the winter but I didn't leave until about four thirty. I had to get changed and clear up before I left. I didn't exactly rush, but I didn't have any reason to hang about here either.'

‘Were you on your own?'

She looked surprised. ‘Yes. And that's when I thought I saw someone following me. I mean, he did, he followed me all the way along the pedestrian path to Clifford Street, but when I got to the bus stop he saw that I'd seen him, so he crossed the road, but he didn't go away even then. He just stood there, watching me.'

Oliver and Ralph were both staring at her now. Ralph was holding his head back, so that he seemed to be looking down his nose at her, as though he found her rather stupid. Oliver looked worried. Before Ian could reach any decision about whether to take her claim seriously, he needed more information. Sending the two men away on the flimsy pretext that they should be opening up the museum to the public, he kept Sophie back for a moment.

‘Can you tell me anything about the person you suspected was following you?'

She shook her head. ‘I couldn't see him very well, because he kept to the shadows.' She shuddered. ‘I was probably wrong. It was just a feeling I had.'

‘Can you describe him in any way?'

‘No. Only that he was tall. That's all I could see really.'

She was staring very intensely at Ian. Feeling slightly uncomfortable, he rose to leave. He was aware that this was a potential lead, but it would be more appropriate for Naomi to pursue it.

‘If you're bothered, please do go along to the police station and make a full report. And if you notice anyone suspicious hanging around again, let us know straight away.'

‘Yes, I will. Shall I ask for you?'

‘You can do so, but if I'm not available you can leave a message with the officer who takes your call. I'll make sure you get through to someone connected with the investigation.'

They left the office together. Jimmy Sutherland, the other full-time member of staff, had finally arrived and was chatting to Oliver in the corridor at the top of the stairs. He apologised to Ian for being late, and mumbled something about his baby keeping him and his wife awake half the night. Grey pouches beneath his eyes bore out his explanation, although he could just as easily have been out on the town. Ian only spoke to him for a few minutes as the other man was preoccupied with starting his day's work. He was already late. He claimed to know little about Viking weapons, although he seemed quite knowledgeable when Ian questioned him about the types of blades they used.

‘You should ask Ralph,' he concluded. ‘He knows all there is to know about the weapons. He's the expert.' He lowered his voice. ‘He gives them all names and talks to them when he thinks no one's listening. We've all heard him.' He laughed easily, a man comfortable with his life.

He clearly had no inkling that his throwaway remark might be significant.

39

Back at his
desk in his little office, Ian made a half-hearted stab at writing up his notes. He didn't want to skimp, but he didn't really know what to make of George's revelation of the previous day. The more he considered the theory of the Viking, the more sense it made. He squirmed uncomfortably. Whatever position he adopted, his legs were somehow too long for his chair. He was reluctant to commit too much of his thinking to paper, because the idea of a modern Viking was quite outlandish. If it turned out to be true, all well and good. If not, he risked appearing, at best, gullible in taking the profiler's comment so seriously. All the same, he couldn't shake off the suspicion that George had given them a glimpse into the mind of the killer and his twisted psyche. A team was tasked with questioning everyone who worked at the Jorvik museum, again. The work would begin first thing in the morning.

Ian drove home, distracted, and barely registered what Bev was telling him.

‘Ian, are you listening?'

He trotted out his usual assurance that he was. All he had taken in was that she had been telling him something about her parents.

‘So do you mind?'

‘What?'

‘Oh, Ian, you said you were listening.'

She gave him a playful slap on the arm. He flung his arms around her and gave her a bear hug, pinning her arms to her sides.

‘You know what happens to women who physically abuse their husbands?'

She laughed, squirming out of his grasp.

‘What I was saying, when you
weren't
listening to me, was that I thought I might go and visit my parents this weekend.'

‘Of course I was listening. I always listen to you.'

‘So? Do you mind if I go?'

‘Can I stop you?'

‘But would you mind if I went to see them this weekend?'

‘You've only just got back.'

His protest sounded half-hearted. When she had lived near her family and friends, busy with a job she enjoyed, she used to grumble about his preoccupation with his work, but she had coped. Since the move to York, where she knew no one, she had quite reasonably demanded more of his attention. In time, she would settle down and form new friendships, but it was still early days, and she was left on her own a lot of the time. While he couldn't allow her to guilt trip him into neglecting his investigation, he could hardly complain if she wanted to spend time socialising with her family and friends in Kent. Apart from that, for his own part, he would be quite relieved to have a few days alone to think about the case uninterrupted. A brief period of scant attention to his wife could be rectified easily enough once the case was over. But if he overlooked some vital information, and the killer remained at large due to Ian's oversight, another victim might be killed. Nothing could put that right.

‘I'll miss you,' he replied, ‘but of course you should go and see your family again if you want to. You know I'd come with you only I can't take any leave right now.'

Bev stared at him with an odd expression. She looked almost put out by the idea that he might want to accompany her. In a way he could understand that he would only get in the way if she wanted to spend time with her family. All the same, he was uncomfortable suspecting that she would prefer to go without him. He sighed. If anything Bev seemed to be growing increasingly resentful of his job. It was as though she believed he stayed in it only to spite her. He tried to put a brave face on the situation, but their marriage was a sour disappointment to him. He was pretty sure she felt the same way. He tried not to feel cheated. They had lived together for years before they married, but she had left it until after the wedding to be completely honest about her feelings. In a way, her deception was to blame for the breakdown in their relationship, although she held him responsible for it.

Ralph arrived at work first the next morning, as Ian suspected he probably did every morning. Ian watched his lanky figure striding towards the entrance, looking neither left nor right, his attention fixed on the museum, as though he couldn't wait to get there. Ian couldn't suppress his own excitement, remembering George's suggestion that the killer could be someone who worked at the Viking museum. Coupled with Jimmy's revelation that Ralph talked to the weapons, it raised a tantalising possibility. Wondering what Ralph could be saying to the weapons when he thought no one was listening, Ian followed him. After a moment, Ralph answered the bell.

‘Oh, it's you,' he said cheerily when Ian announced himself. ‘Come on in.'

The buzzer sounded and Ian made his way up the stairs.

‘For the purpose of elimination,' he said carefully, ‘can you confirm for me where you were on the evening of the Sunday before last?'

Ralph nodded to indicate he understood, and said he had been at home.

‘Is there anyone who can confirm that?'

Ralph lived alone. He had no alibi on Sunday night. Ian moved on to ask about Wednesday when Tim had been decapitated. The jewellery shop was only a short walk away. Tim had been murdered between eight and nine that evening. Ralph had been at his desk until around half past seven.

‘Was anyone else here with you?'

Ralph shook his head uncertainly. ‘We have security cameras at the entrance,' he added, ‘so you should be able to see what time I left.'

‘And did you go straight home?'

Ralph had gone to a local Chinese restaurant for something to eat before heading home. Ian made a note of the details. It should be easy enough to corroborate the time he had left the restaurant since he had paid with a credit card, which would enable them to estimate the time of his arrival. He had no alibi for the Sunday night when Angela was killed, at around midnight, but if a little checking showed that he had been in a restaurant the time of the second murder, then they could discount him.

Once he had finished talking to Ralph, Ian asked to speak to Oliver. The young man smiled shyly at him as he came in.

‘Come in,' Ian said.

Oliver sat down, blinking nervously. Ian quite liked the youngster. Reminding himself that he might be addressing an insane killer, he began to question him gently about his movements on the Sunday evening when Angela had been killed.

‘That Sunday, I remembered where I was, after the last time you were asking me. I wasn't here, I was in Leeds.'

Oliver explained he had gone there with a friend from university. ‘There was a group of us. It was his mate's birthday so we all went round there.'

‘A party?'

Oliver shrugged. ‘Not exactly. There were only six of us. We had a takeaway, got a bit pissed, you know. It was nothing much, just a few guys. We had a laugh, though. It was all right.'

‘What time did you leave there?'

‘We stayed over. The others are all still at uni so it didn't matter and…' He glanced round and lowered his voice. ‘I took the Monday off – it was quite genuine. I
was
sick...'

He gave Ian a list of names and contact details for friends who could confirm that he had been in Leeds that night. His alibi was less clear-cut for the time of Tim's death as he had left work late that Wednesday, and couldn't remember whether he had gone straight home or not. Ian hoped that either Ralph or Oliver was lying about his alibi. It would make the resolution of the investigation so much easier, and faster. It was imperative they caught this psychopath quickly. While he remained at large there was a possibility he might claim another victim.

Straight away Ian despatched a team of constables to call on Oliver's friends, visit the Chinese restaurant, contact Ralph's credit card company, and check CCTV film from outside the Jorvik museum. The conclusion after all the checking was that none of the staff at Jorvik had been free at the time of both murders, apart from Ralph who would have had to run very fast from Jorvik to the jewellery shop and then straight to the Chinese restaurant. It seemed almost impossible for him to have done all that, and arrive at the restaurant without any sign of a struggle or a weapon.

‘What if they're in it together?' Ted asked as they were having a drink that evening after work.

Ian frowned. ‘Who?'

‘Well, we'd need to look at all of the statements, but take Ralph and Oliver for example. Ralph has no alibi for Sunday night, and Oliver has no alibi for Wednesday evening, so what if they were working together? One did one murder, the other did the other one? I mean, they have alibis for different evenings.'

‘That's a point, although is it likely there would be two such lunatics in one place at the same time?'

‘Both playing at being Vikings. They could be having a kind of competition to see who can kill the most people.'

‘And claim the most booty,' Ian added, catching Ted's drift. ‘But they'd have to be sharing an axe, wouldn't they?'

‘If you can have one replica, why not two? I know it sounds crazy.'

‘Murder doesn't always follow any rules. We're dealing with someone who
is
crazy.'

‘Maybe more than one person,' Ted reminded him.

‘Madness is unpredictable. We can't rule anything out at this stage, not without cold, hard evidence. And so far all the evidence really shows is that this killer's insane. And it looks like he might be selecting victims randomly.'

‘He or they,' Ted reminded him.

Ian nodded. The theory didn't make the investigation any easier. It added to the uncertainty – and doubled the risk of more deaths. All the same, he had to concede that Ted had a point.

‘Your decision log's improved,' Ian said as they stood up.

‘It's like being back at school.'

‘I know. But it's…'

‘In my own interest,' Ted completed his sentence, and they both smiled.