Dead Lucky (3 page)

The doctor nodded, considering what Lambert had said as if he was the person truly in charge of the situation.

‘Five minutes,’ he agreed, ‘but you must stop if Mr Sackville becomes agitated in any way.’

‘Thank you, Dr Patel. Before we go in, can you give me an update on Mr Sackville’s condition?’

The doctor sighed, as if Lambert was asking him for an impossible favour. Lambert placed his hands inside his trouser pockets and clenched his fists.

‘He was admitted with shock and severe trauma to his lower arms and wrists.’

‘Can you give me some more detail on his wrist injuries?’

Patel moved his lips as if there was a bad smell in the room. ‘We had to treat and strap his wrists. There were severe ligature marks and tissue damage on both sides. We’ve x-rayed him. There were no broken bones and I’m confident there will be no lasting damage. It’s his mental state I’m most worried about. I’ve called in a clinical psychologist, who’ll be here shortly.’

‘I’m sure you don’t like to hypothesise, Dr Patel, but if you were to guess, what would you say caused the injuries?’

‘You’re correct on that front, Mr Lambert. I’d say the marks are consistent with something being tied or strapped onto his wrists – but the pressure must have been immense considering the damage caused.’

‘Could it have been rope, binds, handcuffs even?’

‘Again I’m guessing, but the injuries are consistent with handcuffs of some sort. There were no burn marks which might result from the use of rope.’

‘You’ve seen this sort of thing before?’ asked Lambert.

‘There’s not much I haven’t seen. Shall we?’

The doctor opened the door to Eustace Sackville’s room. Lambert recognised the figure of the man lying in the bed, despite the unfamiliar context. He had come across Sackville on numerous occasions over the last couple of decades. Lambert remembered him as jovial, gregarious and with a respectful streak he hadn’t always encountered with others of Sackville’s profession. Now he looked like a pale, empty shell, years older than he should have been.

Then the man set his eyes on Lambert and something changed. There was still a sparkle there, a lightness to his piercing green eyes. ‘DCI Lambert,’ the man croaked, ‘they’re pulling out the big guns for me then.’

‘Mr Sackville, it’s good to see you again. I’m sorry it’s in such awful circumstances.’

Sackville turned his head away in dismissal. ‘None of this formality bullshit, Lambert. Call me Eustace or Sackville, anything but Mr Sackville. Could you get me some water?’

Lambert picked up the glass jug to the side of Sackville’s bed and filled two plastic beakers.

‘Mr Lambert won’t take up much of your time,’ said Dr Patel.

Sackville waved the doctor away with a swipe of his hand. ‘This needs to be done.’ He took a sip of water, droplets spilling onto his chin which was decorated with specks of stubble. ‘Sit then. Ask me what you have to.’

Lambert turned the chair to face him. He had to crane his neck to look up at the reclined figure. Dr Patel continued his sentry, arms folded at the edge of the bed.

‘I understand what you’re going through, Eustace. I know it won’t be easy, but in your own words can you tell me everything that happened last night.’

Sackville nodded. ‘I guess you actually do have some idea of what I’m going through,’ he said. Sackville had reported on a number of Lambert’s cases in the past and knew about the death of his daughter. Sackville took another sip of water. ‘He was already in the house,’ he said, the initial lightness Lambert had seen in his eyes disappearing, his face vacant as he recalled what had happened. ‘At least I think he was. I came out of the bathroom and he was there. He had a knife, that’s all it was, but it was pushed tight against Moira’s throat.’ The sound of grinding teeth filled the muted room. ‘I hadn’t heard a doorbell so I’m sure Moira hadn’t buzzed anyone in – so he must have been there all along.’

‘Can you describe him?’ asked Lambert.

Sackville’s eyes darted to the ceiling. ‘Picture your clichéd version of a cat burglar and you’ve got him. Dressed head to toe in black. Mask instead of a balaclava. Leather I think. Even his eyes looked black through the slits in the mask.’

‘Height? Build?’

‘Six foot, six foot one. At one point he leant back on our bookcase, his head was level with the second from top shelf. You measure that, you’ll get your height. It’s funny what you think of in the circumstances, how your mind distracts you. He had a strong looking build, slim. When he cuffed me on the chair I could sense his strength.’

‘Tell me what happened prior to that?’

‘He told me to pull two chairs over,’ Sackville hesitated, rubbing his neck. ‘He told me to make sure they were facing, then he told me to sit.’

Lambert shuddered. Two months ago, he’d been in a similar position. Tied to a chair, a co-worker tied to a chair opposite. He’d thought he’d overcome the memories of that time, but now he wasn’t sure.

‘Mr Lambert, I’m not sure we should continue,’ said Dr Patel.

Lambert shook himself from his reverie, and rounded on the man. ‘We are continuing,’ he said, turning back to Sackville. ‘Continue, Eustace.’

‘He told me to sit in the chair facing the window, to put my hands behind me. He said any movement towards him, however slight, would result in Moira’s instant death followed by mine. I thought it was a simple house burglary, Michael. I thought the guy had messed up, got his timings wrong. I just thought he was going to tie us up, take whatever he wanted and then leave us alone. I couldn’t see his face, so why…’

For the first time since Lambert had arrived, Sackville lost his composure. It was miraculous he’d kept it together so long.

‘It’s not your fault,’ said Lambert. ‘I’d have done exactly the same thing in your situation.’

‘I doubt that. He pulled out a pair of cuffs. He manoeuvred Moira so she was behind me and he made her cuff me, my hands behind my back. He then told Moira to sit opposite me. As soon as I was secure he seemed to relax. He came over and pulled the cuffs tight to my wrists. He kept pushing them into my skin until he could push no more. Christ, I screamed like a bloody child.’

Sackville wiped his sleeve across his eyes. ‘Moira screamed out for him to stop, and for some reason he did. Jesus.’

Lambert knew time was short. Recalling the incident was naturally having a great impact on Sackville, and Lambert feared he would break down again and that Patel would be forced to sedate him. ‘Have some more water.’

‘Thanks.’ Sackville coughed. ‘It’s the not knowing. That fucking bastard paced the room, and refused to answer our questions about what he wanted. I think he was plucking up the courage to do what…’

‘Tell me,’ said Lambert.

Sackville swayed forwards and back on his pillow, his neck and facial muscles so tense they looked liable to snap at any moment. ‘He stopped and looked at me, and I thought he was about to attack. He did, only it wasn’t me.’

‘This can’t continue,’ said Patel, almost as agitated as Sackville.

Lambert held up his hand. ‘Please go on, Eustace.’

‘He gagged her. It was fucking pitiful. I pulled at my cuffs, and they hurt even more, but I just kept fighting. The look in her eyes, Michael. You can’t imagine. I saw everything. Fear, pain, loss, accusation. I saw our whole fucking life together disappearing and I was helpless to do anything about it. She was pleading to me, Michael. She wanted me to help her.’ Sackville shook his head. ‘You’ll never fucking know.’ He began sobbing, and Lambert had to look away as Patel went to intervene.

‘Please, Eustace, just tell me,’ said Lambert, staring at the hospital-white wall of Sackville’s room.

‘This is finished,’ said Patel.

Lambert turned and looked back at Sackville, knowing he’d already pushed the man too far.

‘It’s okay,’ said Sackville, trying to compose himself. ‘He cut her, left wrist then right. It was almost tender, that sick bastard. Moira saw the blood and she disappeared. She didn’t look at me any more. I kept asking him, why, fucking why? I told him to kill me instead but he just sat on one of the other chairs staring at me, ignoring my screams. Watching.’

Sackville’s heart monitor began beeping rapidly, his heartbeat rocketing to one hundred and ten.

‘Enough,’ shouted Patel, pressing an alarm button.

As two nurses entered the room, Lambert called out. ‘Who was he, Eustace?’

‘I don’t know, Lambert. You need to tell Prue. Prue McKenzie,’ said Sackville, his voice a whisper as one of the nurses pulled a mask over his mouth and Lambert reluctantly left the room.

Chapter 5

‘You must be doing something right. I’ve just received my first complaint about you.’

Lambert was sitting in Tillman’s office, the blinds pulled down. ‘Let me guess, Dr Patel?’

Tillman nodded. ‘Was it worth it?’

‘Unless he’s an Oscar level actor, then we can rule out Eustace Sackville. Directly, at least.’

Tillman, who was leaning back on his swivel chair, raised his eyebrows.

‘But I do think there was something he wasn’t telling me.’

Tillman’s chair groaned as he pulled himself upright. ‘You think he arranged it somehow?’

‘No, but I’m not ruling anything out yet. Why are we working on this, sir? Even if it’s not a routine murder it’s not really our department.’

‘I told you, lots of interested parties on this one. You were requested. It seems your work on the Souljacker business has made you something of a celebrity. It needs to be contained though. I don’t want it leaking to the press.’

‘Really? Have you informed the uniforms guarding his room?’

‘Yes, and the friends you’ve been making at the hospital.’

‘Sackville’s a journalist.’

‘No press,’ interrupted Tillman.

‘Whatever you say. What is my team on this?’

‘You’ll be the SIO and head our team. We’ll use outside help where necessary. You’ll be needing this.’ Tillman handed him a policy book.

Lambert smirked. Tillman was not renowned for following the rules. When they’d been part of The Group, the majority of the investigations had been so secretive that there was little or no record of them.

‘You can laugh, but there is a lot of attention on this so do it right.’

Lambert left the room, still confused as to the importance given to the case. His team were assembled in the office, studying their laptops and case notes. Kennedy approached. ‘How did it go with Mr Sackville?’

He relayed the conversation, noticing how intently Kennedy listened, her wide green eyes rarely diverting from his. ‘Shall I get everyone together?’ she asked.

Lambert nodded.

It was strange to head up a team after so long. Lambert stood in front of the six-strong team and called for silence. The team stared back at him, their faces a mixture of apathy and curiosity. He told them about his meeting with Sackville.

‘What do we have in the way of family members?’ he asked the room in general.

‘It’s a weird one, sir,’ said Kennedy. ‘There doesn’t seem to be anyone in the way of immediate family. Both sets of parents have long since passed away. Both Mr and Mrs Sackville are only children. They married twenty-five years ago but are childless.’

Lambert paused. ‘That might be relevant. Close friends, colleagues?’

‘I’ve arranged a meeting with the editor of Sackville’s paper for this morning,’ said Kennedy.

‘Good. Let’s find out what he was working on. Get to know his colleagues. What about our victim?’

A young DC, the newest member of the team, Steve Devlin got to his feet. ‘Mrs Sackville worked as a librarian,’ he said. ‘Dulwich Library. I’m planning to head over there after this, sir.’

‘Give that to Kennedy,’ said Lambert, noting the look of disappointment on Devlin’s face. ‘Sackville gave me the name “Prue McKenzie” when we talked. Kennedy, find out who she is. Get her thoughts on what happened. If Sackville’s recollection is correct then we seem to have a killer who’s not scared to take his time. Why did he make Eustace watch?’ asked Lambert, thinking aloud.

‘It’s not that uncommon,’ said Kennedy. ‘Could be a power thing. Gets off on having his handiwork observed.’

‘Let’s check on The System for any similar cases where someone was forced to witness another’s murder.’

‘Why the wrists?’ asked Devlin.

‘Good point. The cause of death was two vertical incisions, one to each wrist. The autopsy may give us more. It was a long, slow death. Sackville seemed to think that was the killer’s intention. Again, that might be significant.’

‘It’s reminiscent of suicide obviously,’ said Kennedy.

‘Yes,’ agreed Lambert. ‘But the most important thing for now is to find out as much detail about Mr and Mrs Sackville. It’s imperative we have some idea of motive.’

‘What are you thinking, sir?’ asked Kennedy.

‘From what Eustace Sackville told me, we are looking at someone professional. A killer who gained entry into the flat undetected, who had the patience and confidence to stay at the scene as Moira died. This was planned in advanced and Moira wasn’t a random target.’

Chapter 6

‘Kennedy, a word,’ Tillman summoned her in just as the briefing ended. ‘Shut the door.’

‘Yes, sir,’ said Matilda.

‘Sit down.’

Matilda took a seat opposite her superior. He’d taken his jacket off and his pale blue shirt was tight against his body, as if constraining the flesh within. His head stood atop the widest shoulders she’d ever seen. He was like a prop-forward of a rugby team. Conspicuous muscle covered by a layer of fat.

‘Update.’

‘Shouldn’t you be speaking to Lambert about that, sir?’ She tilted her head, toying with him, wondering how far she could push.

Tillman stared straight ahead. ‘As we discussed before, I want you to keep an eye on him. This is the first major case he’s headed since he came back to us. You know his past.’

Matilda knew some of it. Lambert had been out of the force for the last two years. A few months ago he’d captured a serial killer who’d been active for over twenty years, by all accounts almost single-handed.

‘I’m not going to spy on him Glenn, if that’s what you want. Jesus, is that why…’