Dead Of Winter (Willis/Carter #1)(36)

‘Got the contract for me to sign?’

When the estate agent left, Carmichael locked the main doors and went back around the club. He unlocked the door next to the cashier’s booth and walked into the first of two back rooms; one was storage, the other, an office which would be his bedroom. All that was left in the room was an old safe, a set of plastic chairs and a filthy mattress. He would have time to buy himself a camp bed. He’d do it tomorrow. He wouldn’t be sleeping there most nights, but he’d need somewhere safe to rest and, by the time he finished making it that way, the club would be a fortress.

Back at the bar, he sat on a stool opposite the empty optics and the dusty fittings that had once shone on a nightly basis; but not brightly. This was never a pukka club; this was a shabby nightclub in a once shabby part of town. It had been a notorious place for trafficked girls and gangsters. That was why Carmichael had chosen it. He opened his laptop on the counter. He had already decided on a name for the club: the Velvet Lagoon. He’d apply for the licence to reopen it in the morning. He wouldn’t get it, but that didn’t matter. By that time it would all be over. The place echoed to the sound of his fingers on the keyboard. Occasionally he heard the scuttle of a rat as it came up to investigate the new arrival. Carmichael opened up a ham sandwich he’d bought when he stopped on his way down and threw a corner of the crust over towards the sound of scuttling.

He turned his attention back to the screen as Ebony logged on. She was writing her notes up about her visit to Rose Cottage: Carmichael watched as Ebony typed in the password. The spyware recorded every key stroke she made and typed it directly onto his screen.

Forensic evidence missing: contaminated. She was raped. Semen on/inside the body of Louise Carmichael . . . find these samples . . . re-draw scene-of-crime plans. Go back to Doc Harding and talk through autopsy notes, missing sections . . . enough blood? What was Carmichael’s relationship with Chrissie Newton . . . did he lie to me?





Carmichael picked up his holdall and placed it on the bar top then he unzipped it and took out his rifle in its slimline fleece bag. He hopped over the bar and knelt down amongst the debris that had been left by the quick departure of the club’s owners. Someone had ripped out the glass-washing machine. Carmichael reached a hand in and felt the space that was left beside it. It was dry. He slid the rifle into the gap and hopped back over the bar.

He took out the new clothes he’d bought on the way and tore off the labels then he repacked them into his expensive new bag. He’d already booked a room in the Lansdown, a boutique hotel off Oxford Street. He had never allowed himself to spend his wife’s money before: the thought of touching it had been abhorrent to him. But he’d been waiting for this time.

He went around the club and re-drilled every lock and changed it. He put up web cams and aligned them over the entrance to the club and around the building. He made sure every point of entry was secure. Nothing was going to get into the club uninvited and, once inside, nothing was going to leave without his permission.





Chapter 20


‘Doctor Harding?’ Ebony found Harding working at her PC. ‘Thanks for making time to go through the autopsy results with me.’

Harding swivelled round on her chair, took off her glasses.

‘How was it with Carmichael?’

Ebony nodded. ‘Yeah. It was interesting.’

‘What’s his life like now?’

‘I don’t think he’s ever moved on from what happened.’

‘How did he react to the fresh evidence?’

‘I don’t know. I feel a bit like I’ve opened Pandora’s box. Maybe that’s exactly what I was meant to do?’

‘Did you ask him about the affair?’

Ebony nodded.

‘What did he say?’

‘He said he was feeling self-destructive at the time.’

Harding frowned and then turned back to her desk.

‘Pull up Mathew’s chair – he’s gone to chase up some results. What do you want to ask me? You have my attention for twenty minutes.’

‘I wanted to go through some of the facts with you and make sure I understand them.’ Ebony opened up her folder and spread out the crime scene diagrams on the floor.

‘These are the original crime scene drawings from the time,’ said Harding. ‘They place Chrissie Newton here in the lounge as we saw when we went there and as I found her when I certified her death.’

Ebony laid a photo of the body on top of the room plan. ‘Her injuries were vast. We know her killer used anaesthetic. The bleed would have been massive.’ She looked at the photos of Chrissie Newton’s body. ‘It doesn’t look as if there was enough blood considering their injuries. I mean . . . wouldn’t you expect the blood to be everywhere? What did you think at the time?’

‘I thought that if she had been laid on something as she was killed that it would be about right. A towel or absorbent sheet. Not too difficult: minimal bleed. When the heart stops so does the bleeding.’

‘But that would have taken some organizing: coming fully equipped. Not a last-minute thing. This is the photo of how you found Louise.’ Ebony pointed to the group of photos from the crime scene.

‘Correct.’

‘Does it look like she was placed there to you?’