The House of Women (41 page)

Angel
was momentarily stumped for words. His ears and cheeks felt hot. He licked his lips.

‘
I
am
Inspector Angel, sir,’ he said. ‘I don’t know about that other stuff. I do my job...the best way I know.’

Krill
pulled his head backwards, smiled and turned to his wife. ‘We’ve got the top man, Kathleen.’

‘
To continue, if you don’t mind,’ Angel said. ‘You were away this weekend?’

‘
Just two nights, yes. I went to the Solar Heating and Power Exhibition in London, but you surely don’t suspect me?’

‘
No, sir,’ Angel said. ‘But we check on everyone.’

Dr
Mac, in his white overalls, put his head through the door. He was a small, white-haired Glaswegian. ‘Excuse me. Have you a minute, Michael?’

Angel
rose and went over to him.

Mac
gestured to him to come out into the hall and then he quietly closed the drawing room door.

‘
I’m ready to move the body,’ Mac said quietly. ‘You’d be wanting to see it afore we do?’

Angel
nodded.

Mac
came up close to his ear and very quietly said, ‘And there’s an...an interesting feature to the case, Michael.’

Angel
blinked. That
was
unusual. Mac was not a sensationalist.

‘
Right, Mac,’ Angel said, nodding. ‘I’ll follow you upstairs in a moment.’

Mac
turned away.

‘
Would you find me some gloves?’

‘
Aye, I’ll see to it,’ Mac said, calling back over his shoulder.

Angel
returned to the drawing room, asked the Krills if they would mind waiting a few minutes, came out and mounted the stairs, carefully keeping his hands away from the heavily carved ornate handrail, and his feet on the centre line of the white plastic sheeting.

He
could hear the hum of vacuum cleaners still being used in other areas of the house by SOCOs, and hoped they might be accumulating valuable evidence.

‘
Second door,’ Angel heard the doctor call.

‘
Right, Mac,’ he bawled and made his way along the oak-lined landing to a large double bedroom.

He
was met at the door by a SOCO who handed him a pair of white plastic gloves. ‘You wanted these, sir.’

‘
Aye. Ta.’

He
put them on and made his way, keeping to the white plastic floor covering, to the bed nearest the bay window where Mac was waiting for him.

The
body was on the bed, on its back, covered with bedclothes to the waist. All around was the dark-red stain of dried blood: on the bedspread, the pillows, the bedhead.

Angel
peered at the head of the corpse. It flopped back unnaturally across a pile of pillows.

He
had seen hundreds of corpses but it always gave him a chilling feeling in his stomach at first sight. The feeling soon left him as his mind routinely assumed the business of searching for evidence to put the killer behind bars.

The
sparse covering of silver white hair confirmed that the corpse was of an elderly male. The face was a grey-white colour. Eyes closed. The lips a violet shade. The mouth was wide open, showing a row of even teeth.

He
looked up at the doctor.

‘
What you got then, Mac?’

‘
A single incision into the aorta, Michael, ensured this man died almost instantly. As you will see, there is an inordinate amount of blood. It would have spurted out under pressure. I think he must have been dead two or three days. I expect the murder was committed on Saturday night/Sunday morning. The weapon was a double-edged sword or dagger that had penetrated about five inches. One stab only, but the weapon was savagely moved around in the wound post-mortem.’

Angel
frowned. He pursed his lips. The murder was certainly executed callously, and was likely to have been carried out by a particularly chilling creature, who would have had quantities of blood on his person...his hands and wrists, possibly his arms, certainly on his shirt or coat or T-shirt, and maybe even on his shoes.

Angel
sighed thoughtfully. If only he had a suspect. He could have raced off for a warrant, and if the suspect had been guilty, he would certainly have found DNA in the form of the deceased’s blood somewhere on him or on a garment in his possession. He had been through that exercise many times over recent years. This time, it wasn’t to be that easy.

‘
Any other injuries, Mac?’ he asked.

‘
Bruising round the mouth and throat.’

‘
No doubt to stop him calling out?’

‘Probably.’

‘Fingers, fingernails, hands. Did he try to defend himself?’

‘
No. No signs of any retaliation. The murder could have been over in a few seconds.’

‘H
mm. Hmm. You said there was something else...an interesting feature?’

‘
Aye, I did,’ Mac said. He crossed the bedroom floor to a great rosewood dressing table in an alcove at the foot of the other bed. There was a large swivel mirror on the top of it. ‘Look at this,’ he said, and he slightly changed the angle of the mirror.

Angel
watched him. It caught the light.
And
his attention. He saw large crudely daubed letters in red on the glass.

‘
The message,’ Mac said, ‘whatever it means, is painted in blood, what I assume to be the victim’s blood. It is a direct message from the killer. I think it says “V to go”.’

Angel
blinked. The back of his hand and arm turned to gooseflesh. He advanced towards the dressing table and read it for himself.

‘
V to go?’ he said. ‘Yes, but what does it mean?’

‘
V to go?’ Mac said. ‘V must be short for something or somebody? Like Violet, Vera, Victoria, Victor, Valerie, or Virginia? Virginia or somebody to go where?’

‘
Is it a place?’ Angel said. ‘To go? What’s that mean?’

‘
Valhalla. A burial place for a great man?’

Angel
rubbed his chin. ‘Valhalla? I’ll ask the daughter. Is there anything else?’

Mac
shook his head. ‘Not here. Might be when I get him on the slab.’

A
man in white appeared in the doorway. It was DS Taylor, head of SOCO. ‘Excuse me, sir, there’s a couple of people in the drawing room asking for you. I think they want to leave.’

Angel
wrinkled his nose. ‘All right, Don. I’m just going down.’ He pointed at the mirror.

‘
You seen this?’

‘
Yes, sir. Can’t make any sense of it,’ he said, shaking his head. ‘V to go. It’s spooky.’

Angel
wasn’t pleased. He knew it was eerie, but he didn’t enjoy a policeman saying so. ‘Have you any idea what these letters were made with?’

‘
A smudge of cloth, sir, I should think. It could be achieved by putting a blood-soaked handkerchief, towel or any bit of rag around a finger and making the letters like chalking on a blackboard.’

He
nodded. ‘Are there discarded garments or towels or anything?’

‘
No, sir.’

‘
I suppose he cleaned himself up in the bathroom?’

‘
Yes, sir. There’s a trail of drops of blood, presumably from his hands. But he didn’t use a towel. Must have wiped his hands down his own clothes or brought his own towel.’

‘
Or taken one that was here with him,’ Angel said.

Taylor
looked as if he hadn’t thought of it.

Angel
said: ‘Have you found anything to swab for DNA?’

‘
No, sir. And he was too smart to leave any prints on the taps, switches or doorknobs.’

Angel
wrinkled his nose. ‘We’ve a murderer who is forensically aware.’

‘
Looks like it.’

‘
The worst kind,’ Angel said, pulling a face.

‘
It is looking like he came up by ladder through the window in here, sir, committed the murder, wrote that stuff on the mirror, went along to the bathroom to clean up, then returned and went down the ladder to make his exit.’

‘
So you’ve nothing in the way of fingerprints or footprints?’

‘
No sir.’

Angel
’s face dropped.

‘
Anything in the bags?’ he said.

‘
We haven’t finished, sir, but very little. The house is spotless.’

‘
In that case, whatever you have sucked up must be pretty interesting?’

Taylor
shrugged. He clearly wasn’t certain.

‘
Bring them to my office, anyway,’ Angel said. ‘I want to see for myself. And look after that mirror,’ he said, pointing to the dressing table. ‘I’ll want
that
taking to the station. Preserve that at all costs.’

‘
Oh
yes
, sir.’ Taylor said. He had already anticipated that he would want that.

‘
Where’s the bathroom?’

Taylor
went out of the bedroom, along the landing and turned right into the room next door. Angel followed.

‘
There is a trail of blood on the carpet,’ Taylor said.

‘
In both directions?’

‘
Yes, sir.’

‘
So we can take it he wasn’t familiar with the layout of the house?’

‘
Looks like it.’

The
bathroom was a large room. It had plastic covering on the floor.

‘
Where is the blood?’

‘
There’s a trail of blood to this sink. He’s run both taps. There were traces of pink, as you’d expect. He didn’t use the soap.’

Angel
turned and looked at the towel rail. There were two towels folded neatly across the heated rails. There was room for several more.

‘
He didn’t use those towels either.’

‘
I suppose there could have been three towels there, Don?’

‘
Yes. Or more, sir.’

‘
I’ll see if his daughter knew.’ He remembered she was downstairs waiting for him. ‘I’ll have to go,’ he said and made for the door. ‘I’ll come back.’

Mac,
who had been standing patiently by the bathroom door, said, ‘All right to move the body now, Michael?’

‘
Yes, Mac. Thank you.’

Angel
went out of the bedroom and down the stairs.

Mr
and Mrs Krill were still in the drawing room. They stood up when he went into the room. Kathleen Krill looked very pale. Angel thought that shock was now telling on her.

‘
Sorry to keep you,’ he said. ‘Please sit down.’ He turned to Mrs Krill. ‘I won’t keep you much longer today, but...something has cropped up. Is there anybody in the family, or that your father knew, whose name begins with the letter V?’

Mrs
Krill thought a moment, then looked at her husband. ‘Do we know anybody, Cyril, whose name begins with V?’

He
looked vague and shook his head.

They
both turned to Angel.

‘
I’m sorry,’ she said. ‘Can’t think of anybody. Is it important?’

‘
It might be. It’s incorporated in the phrase, "V to go", daubed on the mirror up there. Does
that
mean anything at all to you?’

Mrs
Krill gasped. The whites of her eyes grew bigger. The murderer left a...a message on a mirror?’ she said.

‘
I am afraid so, Mrs Krill.’

She
shook her head, found a tissue and wiped her nose.

Krill
looked at her and his manner suddenly became assertive. He was no longer interested in the questions. He stood up, reached himself up to his full height and said, ‘We really need to be on our way. My wife needs to rest.’ He took a business card out of his pocket and passed it to Angel. ‘My private address and telephone number are on this, if you need to get in touch with us. I will take Kathleen home in my car, and collect hers later.’

‘
Very well,’ Angel said. ‘Thank you, sir.’

Krill
pushed his wife gently through the door and followed close behind.