An Early Grave Read online

  ‘You think it’s related to the murder of Audra Bagdonas?’ Tweedy asked.

  ‘Not sure at the moment if the attack is relevant, but I still believe Callum Armour holds more information than he has so far provided.’

  ‘Why don’t we pull him in again?’ said Murray.

  ‘He didn’t say much last time,’ said Tweedy. ‘Unless we have the evidence to charge him with something connected to the murder I think he will remain silent.’ Tara considered it an appropriate time to explain a little of the game Callum was intent on playing. She told her colleagues that she believed Armour was using his knowledge of the murder as a bargaining chip to persuade Merseyside Police to investigate his theory of why former Oxford students from the same year and college had died in tragic and suspicious circumstances. Tweedy listened studiously as Tara related Callum’s theory about his wife and daughter’s killing, despite it having been declared an accident. Murray didn’t look as if he believed a word when she explained that the so called ‘Thomas Becket-style-murder’ of Peter Ramsey in Canterbury Cathedral was in some way connected to the death of Tilly Reason. Tara didn’t think either man would buy into the third piece of the puzzle, when she mentioned the murder in Switzerland of Chinese scientist Zhou Jian. It seemed implausible, even to her, that a student who disappeared ten years ago had returned with a strong motive for murdering his former friends from university. She tried to convince her boss that it was worthwhile to continue trading off in order for Armour to reveal more about the murder of Audra Bagdonas.

  ‘His head’s full of crap,’ said Murray. Tweedy glared in surprise at his Detective Sergeant. Tara and Murray both knew well that the Superintendent was not one for crude language. ‘Armour has all sorts of theories about killings,’ Murray continued. ‘He’s a paranoid conspiracy theorist, rambles about global food poisoning, airline safety and people threatening him. All rubbish. He wastes more police time.’

  ‘Not all rubbish, Alan,’ said Tara. ‘He was attacked with a Taser, and whoever did it also nailed his pet dog to a garden fence.’

  ‘Dear, dear,’ said Tweedy, in his usual troubled voice. ‘So how do you suggest we proceed, Tara?

  She and Murray stared at each other, posturing some might call it.

  ‘I think Alan should continue with his leads: interview Audra’s work colleagues and the people who shared a house with her, find the film makers and get a definite ID on them. I would like to spend some time on Callum Armour’s claims about the murders of former students, including his wife.’

  ‘All off our patch,’ said Murray, engulfed by his self-confident smirk.

  ‘If he is correct about this, then more people may be at risk. We can at least pass on our information to the appropriate authorities. Let them check it out?’

  Tweedy, looking pensive, sat down at his desk, his palms together like a child in prayer. Tara saw him glance at the black leather-bound Bible that always sat on the left-hand corner of his desk. She wondered how often he found answers to difficult problems within it, or gained inspiration from it.

  ‘Okay, Tara. You may have a tentative look into his story if it helps you to gain Armour’s trust. Remember that these deaths all occurred off our patch. Please do not overstep your mark in dealing with other police forces, and if Mr Armour is not forthcoming soon with what he knows of the girl’s murder then you will arrest him and charge him for withholding information. Alan, you may continue with the case as discussed.’

  Murray looked far from pleased as the pair left Tweedy’s office.

  ‘You’re wasting your time, you know?’

  ‘We’ll see. But I want to try this, because Callum Armour knows more about the killing of Audra Bagdonas, and I can’t think of a better way for him to give us that information.’

  ‘The threat of jail usually works.’

  The pair stopped by Tara’s desk. She was eager to get Murray out of her hair. She wanted to prove or disprove Armour’s theory as soon as possible.

  ‘I don’t think even the threat of death would be enough for him. He is a man who is living only for one thing.’

  ‘Which is?’

  ‘To find the person who killed his wife and child.’

  ‘You said yourself it was an accident.’

  ‘If I find that to be true and there’s no connection to the other deaths then we can try it your way. Until then, you get on with what the Superintendent gave you to do, and let me do my job.’ Murray looked surprised by her candour, and walked off. Tara didn’t want him as an enemy, but it wasn’t the first time she felt the need to put him in his place.

  She wasted no time in gathering information on the deaths of former students of Latimer College, Oxford. Her intention was to have enough of the truth about each death to confront Callum with it and convince him that despite his heartache at the loss of his family there was no foundation to his theory. Or perhaps she would have sufficient facts to show Tweedy that there was some credence to Armour’s claims. It would have been easier if she still had the tatty box-file of news clippings and photographs, but she began working from memory, typing key words into her computer and reading the various news reports of the killings. Tilly Reason was uppermost in her mind. If there was anything that pointed to murder and not a horrific accident at the level crossing then she could move on to the others. She remembered the chilling story Callum told her about him receiving a sympathy card and reading it on the train on his way to meet Tilly. He was adamant that he wasn’t mistaken about the timing of events. He’d received the card at the Chemistry Department in Oxford only a few minutes after speaking on the phone with his wife. As Callum had told her, the report on the inquest into Tilly and Emily’s death, printed in the Oxford Mail, made no reference to the sympathy card. The accident, it seemed, was a case where a driver had become impatient waiting at an un-gated level crossing, or was complacent in believing they could drive across before a train arrived. One passage in the report, and Callum had mentioned it that first time she visited his house, stated that the CCTV at the crossing wasn’t working on the evening that Tilly and Emily were killed. At the time of the inquest no witnesses had come forward. All other evidence suggested an accident. The injuries of mother and daughter were consistent with an impact of train upon car. There was nothing to suggest they had been killed beforehand and then placed inside. No one, however, could say for sure that Tilly’s car had not been deliberately placed on the railway line, or had not been shunted onto it by another vehicle.

  But why? Tilly Reason was an up-and-coming children’s author, married to an Oxford scientist. What possible motive could anyone have to do them harm? Callum had made no other suggestion about the killer’s identity other than Justin Kingsley. Why? It seemed that Callum was unable or unwilling to answer that question. Kingsley disappeared seven years before Tilly Reason died. If he was the killer, and harboured a grudge against his friends, why wait so long before taking action? And why wait another three years before striking again?

  Late in the afternoon, around four, she lifted the phone and dialled the number of Kent Police in Canterbury. She kept one of the news reports open on her computer as she spoke on the telephone. She explained to the desk officer who she was and asked to speak with a detective dealing with the Peter Ramsey murder investigation. A minute later a rather up-beat male voice came on the phone.

  ‘Hello, Detective Inspector Iain Barclay, can I help you?’

  ‘Hello Inspector, I’m Detective Inspector Tara Grogan of Merseyside Police.’ She paused, but Barclay made no reply, merely waiting for her to continue. ‘I’m investigating the murder of a young girl in Liverpool, and during my inquiries I’ve met a potential suspect who claims to know something in connection with the murder of Peter Ramsey in Canterbury Cathedral.’

  ‘Oh yes?’

  Barclay’s interest seemed aroused, although having spoken only two phrases so far Tara could only assume that ‘Oh yes’ meant that she should continue.

  ‘His name is
Dr Callum Armour…’

  ‘Ah. Must stop you there, I’m afraid. We already know of this Dr Armour. We got a letter, several actually, but the first arrived a day or two after the Ramsey killing.’

  Tara’s hopes were raised, slightly. Callum was already assisting with their investigation.

  ‘Bit of a crackpot that one,’ said Barclay. ‘Told us the murder of Peter Ramsey was linked to the murder of his wife, three years ago.’

  ‘Yes, that’s what he told me.’

  ‘We checked his story. His wife was killed in an accident at a level crossing. So said the report from the inquest. He also claimed that a friend from his days at Oxford was responsible for the death of his wife and for the murder of Ramsey.’

  Tara sensed that she shouldn’t add a corroborative yes to this information.

  ‘Turns out the guy disappeared ten years ago in Austria - sorry, I can’t recall his name.’

  ‘Justin Kingsley.’

  ‘Mmm, that’s him. I contacted his father. He’s a flipping QC in London. Went through me like the proverbial dose for raking up the past regarding his son’s disappearance. The lad hasn’t been seen in ten years. Seems to me this Dr Armour is a bit of a time waster. Not an amateur sleuth by any chance? Too many murder mystery weekends?’

  In Callum’s defence, she ran through his theory mentioning that the murder of Zhou Jian in Lucerne a couple of weeks ago, added weight to the argument that someone was embarked upon a series of killings linked by the victims having all been students at Latimer College. Barclay did not subscribe to her theory.

  ‘We are working on the lines that a religious nut, someone with a grievance against the church, is responsible for the Ramsey killing. But thanks for the information. If you find that it does begin to fit, give me a call.’

  ‘Can I ask you to do likewise?’ said Tara. ‘Thank you for your time.’

  ‘No problem.’ She got the impression from Barclay that he didn’t think much of Callum’s suggestions, or of her for bringing them to his attention.

  There was little point, she thought, in making contact with police in Oxfordshire regarding the death of Tilly Reason. She was certain they would merely quote the verdict of the inquest. That left her with the option of getting something useful from police in Switzerland.

  She found a number from a website for the main police station in Kasimir-Pfyffer-Strasse in Lucerne. A female answered when she rang and, fortunately, spoke excellent English. Tara explained who she was and why she had called. Within a minute she was put through to the senior detective handling the investigation into the murder of Zhou Jian. His name was Kurt Muetzel.

  ‘May I help you, Inspector Grogan?’ The man had quite a pleasant voice but spoke slowly, perhaps owing to English being his second language.

  ‘I wonder if you could provide me with some details relating to the death of Dr Zhou Jian?’

  ‘May I ask why you have an interest in this case?’

  Tara explained as best she could, hopefully without sounding a complete idiot, about the connections she believed existed between the deaths of Tilly Reason, Peter Ramsey and Zhou Jian. She decided not to mention Callum’s name, in case the Swiss police, as that of Kent, already had experience of the man’s theorising.

  ‘These deaths, you say, occurred in Kent and Oxfordshire?’

  ‘That’s correct.’

  ‘And why are the police in Liverpool involved in these cases?’

  Clearly it was going to be difficult to get past Kurt Muetzel. He was understandably cautious. She embellished her role somewhat to avoid the mention of Callum Armour.

  ‘I’m investigating the murder of a young girl in Liverpool. I uncovered this story in the course of my inquiries. I really thought nothing of it until today, when I read in the newspaper that the death of Zhou Jian is regarded as a murder. It may only be a coincidence, but it has a bearing on the credibility of a witness to the murder of the girl.’ A slight distortion of the truth, but it was an easier option than to say she was curious about Zhou Jian because she was curious about Callum Armour.

  ‘It sounds very complicated, Inspector Grogan. I do not envy your task; we do not often investigate homicide in Lucerne. If you provide me with a verifiable email address I will send you information I have about the death of this unfortunate Chinese scientist.’ Tara took a note of his email address.

  ‘Thank you, Inspector Muetzel. I really appreciate your help.’

  ‘Assistant Chief Muetzel,’ he corrected her. ‘Goodbye, Inspector Grogan.’

  Her face flushed at the faux pas, but she was pleased he had agreed to help. Immediately she fired off an email to verify her identity.

  She bought a coffee and cherry scone from the canteen and carried them back to her desk. Twenty minutes later, an email from Assistant Chief Kurt Muetzel, with a pdf attachment, sat in her inbox. When she opened it up, the first page of the seven page document was printed in German, and for a moment she feared the rest would be the same. But it appeared that Muetzel had taken the time, at least, to do a rough translation, some in type, some handwritten, of the main points of the investigation. Tara printed out the document, knowing from habit that holding a piece of paper in her hand was more comfortable to read.

  Thirty-one-year-old Dr Zhou Jian from Yanshan University in Qinhuangdao, a scientist specialising in issues of food contamination and adulteration, had been attending the Fifth International Symposium on Food Quality and Hygiene in the Global Market. She skimmed through the information confirming what she had read in the newspapers Callum had shown her. Muetzel had enclosed a synopsis of the autopsy report. Cause of death was confirmed as drowning. The body, fully clothed, had been in the water for approximately nine hours. One abrasion to the left side of the skull with minor bruising. This suggested to Tara that Zhou Jian entered the water immediately after being struck, or perhaps hit his head as he entered it. The next few lines were of more interest. A single puncture wound was detected at the base of the skull. At autopsy, this wound showed penetration and pierce damage to the brain. The wound was consistent with the use of a thin pointed weapon such as a hat pin, needle or even a cocktail stick. There were indications of internal bleeding, but no excessive loss of blood externally. Whether or not he was conscious at the time he entered the water could not be determined, but it was likely that the injury to the back of the head was sufficiently debilitating for him to fall, or to succumb to a force that led to his entering the water. Cause of death was drowning, occurring most probably within a few minutes.

  She used a fluorescent marker pen to highlight points of particular interest. Muetzel had been quite generous in the information provided, but so far all she had read confirmed only that Zhou Jian was murdered. There was little information regarding possible suspects or motives. So far no one had come forward who claimed to have witnessed the killing. Police speculated that Zhou Jian had entered the water somewhere between his hotel, The Grand Hotel National on the Nationalquai, and the place near the Rathausquai where his body was found the following morning.

  Zhou Jian had travelled alone from his home city, via Beijing, to the conference, although there were quite a few Chinese delegates. Several people came forward who had spent time with him on the evening before his death, but none could offer concrete information except that Zhou Jian had left their company in the hotel to go for a walk. The concierge at the Grand Hotel National said that he had delivered a message to Dr Zhou Jian at around six o’clock in the evening. A receptionist said she had given Zhou Jian directions to the Hotel Des Alps on the Rathausquai. A waitress at a bar on the Rathausquai confirmed that she had served drinks that evening to a Chinese gentleman, but there had been several such men present at the bar, and she assumed all to be delegates from the conference at the KKL. Tara read some handwritten notes scanned into the end portion of the document. From what she could decipher from Muetzel’s rather flamboyant, though perfectly legible style, there were no strong leads in the case. Police were proceedi
ng on the basis that this murder was linked in some way to the conference or to delegates attending the conference. There was a low crime rate in Lucerne, with zero murders in the city for the two preceding years. Attacks of this nature were extremely rare and, for the time being, the involvement of any local criminal element had been ruled out. Muetzel wrote that Dr Zhou Jian had been subject to certain threats in China relating to his work. Currently, an attempt was in progress to trace all Chinese delegates who attended the conference in Lucerne.

  She’d learned little from her efforts to verify any of Callum’s theory, but neither could she rule out his claims. No matter who was responsible for the deaths of Tilly Reason and her daughter, Peter Ramsey and Zhou Jian, there was not a hint of motive. Regardless of the possibility that the deaths were linked, because the adults were once students at Oxford, there was nothing to suggest that Justin Kingsley was responsible. Why had any of these people been killed? If Callum’s theories were to be confirmed then she needed him to talk to her, and she needed to get another look at the contents of his box-files.

  Before leaving for home she ran a few checks on Justin Kingsley. To date she knew only what Callum had told her and the details of his disappearance recorded in the papers at that time. Firstly, she browsed through articles relating to the missing student. As she expected there had been a flurry of activity immediately following the day Kingsley went missing. Austrian police drew a blank but, never having found a body, the official response was to be positive that Kingsley remained alive. Within a couple of months of the ski-trip, Kingsley’s name had largely disappeared from British press reports. Next she examined notices of annual appeals for information on the anniversary of his disappearance, but these, too, seemed to halt by the fifth year. Finally, she ran his name through the UK police missing person database and that of Interpol. The results were not what she expected to find. Justin Kingsley was not listed as a missing person.