Dead of Night, page 21
part #7 of D.I. Tom Mariner Series
‘It’s a good idea,’ said Mariner, pleased and disconcerted at the same time. If Hayden was their washerwoman, would he be careless enough to leave a spare key with the neighbours? ‘When did you last see Dr Hayden?’ he asked.
‘Oh, not for a few days now.’ She thought for a moment. ‘Actually, it would have been last week sometime. Thursday, I’m sure of it. One of those tree surgeon people came to the door, ridiculously early, and I saw Leo leaving in his car to go to work. I gave him a little wave, but I’m not sure if he saw me.’
‘What time would this have been?’
‘Perhaps about half past eight.’
‘Where are Mr and Mrs Hayden senior?’ asked Mariner.
‘Oh, he passed away some years ago now, and then shortly afterwards she went to live with her sister in South Africa. The house stood empty for a while. We thought it would go on the market, but then Leo came back.’
‘Is Leo the only child?’
‘Yes, they had him quite late in life, but he’s done ever so well for himself.’
‘Except that Hayden didn’t go to work on Thursday morning,’ said Jesson, as she and Mariner let themselves in through the electronic gates.
‘But if he is our man,’ said Mariner, ‘why the necklaces? What’s the letter P got to do with anything?’
‘Search me,’ said Jesson. ‘Middle name?’
As a formality Mariner rang the doorbell, and when, as expected, no one responded, they let themselves into the house. Though the house was spacious and the polished wood floors and Persian rugs spoke of wealth, the place had an air of neglect about it. The furniture was dated and the carpets threadbare in places, and Mariner guessed that Leo Hayden wasn’t much interested in his surroundings. He seemed to live modestly, the house felt cold and unlived in and a vaguely unpleasant smell got stronger as they went further into the building.
They found Coral Norman lying sprawled face down on the floor of the utility room, with what looked at first glance like a pair of tights or stockings still wound around her neck, the ends trailing across the stone tiles as if they’d been artistically arranged that way. A large woman, her grey hair was cut short into the nape of her neck and a dark purple stain of bruising radiated out from underneath the band of brown nylon. Squatting down, Mariner felt her wrist for a pulse, but her flesh was cold and as he got nearer, the stench became overpowering, forcing him to cover his nose and mouth with his hand. Her head was turned to the side, the eyes glassy, and from the side that rested on the floor, post-mortem lividity, where the blood had pooled, spread up into her face like a port-wine stain birthmark.
Jesson walked through from the hall, opening a beige leather handbag as she did. ‘This was hanging on a coat peg,’ she said. Opening it, she took out a purse and checked the contents. ‘Bank cards here for a Miss C Norman,’ she confirmed. ‘And there’s a mobile phone.’
‘See if you can track down a next of kin,’ said Mariner, stepping away from the body. Taking out his own phone, he summoned scenes of crime and called through to Superintendent Sharp. ‘We need to issue a nationwide alert for a Dr Leo Hayden,’ he said, ‘including ports and airports, though we may well be too late. He hasn’t been seen since around the time Dee Henderson disappeared and we’ve just found his cleaner strangled at his house. He’s dangerous so shouldn’t be approached.’
‘You think he might be our washerwoman?’ asked Sharp.
‘I’d say there’s a very good chance,’ said Mariner. ‘We’ve already identified the hospital as the probable contact point, and he’d have easy access to sheets and scrubs. If nothing else he’s got some explaining to do,’ said Mariner.
‘Hello?’ Charlie Glover’s voice rang out, hollow through the empty house.
‘In here,’ Mariner called back, pocketing his phone and pulling on latex gloves.
Glover appeared in the doorway. ‘Oh, no,’ he groaned. ‘This is her?’ He handed Mariner the all-important signed search warrant. He’d also brought with him a couple of uniforms, so, while they waited for the SOCOs, Mariner had them conduct a basic search of the rest of the house. ‘We’re looking for any sign of Grace, Rosa or Dee and any indication of where Hayden might have gone,’ he reminded them.
Through the utility room Mariner took the access door that opened into the garage. It was whitewashed and spotlessly clean, tools arranged on wall brackets according to the outlined shape underneath. There was no car, but a muddy mountain bike hung from brackets on the wall. Taking out a polythene evidence bag, Mariner scraped some of the dried soil into it. ‘So where do you like to go mountain biking, Dr Hayden?’ he said to himself. ‘Pepper Wood, by any chance?’
Calling one of the uniforms, the two of them searched the ground floor and outside the house for any indication that there might be a cellar or basement, but if there was, they could find no obvious visible entry point. Then Mariner climbed the stairs to the first floor. Charlie Glover was going through the wardrobes in what looked like a master bedroom, the king-sized bed unmade. Drawers that he’d already searched were left open, clothing spilling out.
‘If he’s gone away, he’s left a lot of stuff behind,’ said Charlie. He nodded towards an en suite. ‘And there’s a toothbrush and razor in there.’
‘He’s a doctor,’ said Mariner. ‘And he’s on call to the critical care unit. He might have had a bag already packed for that.’ Looking out of the window he saw that Stuart Croghan had arrived.
‘There’s this too.’ Leaving what he was doing, Glover took Mariner out on to the landing and pushed open the door to what was obviously a spare bedroom. In the middle of the room was an ironing board. ‘Might be worth taking a sample of his detergent,’ said Glover.
Vicky Jesson was behind a desk in the study, taking a look at the computer. ‘Password protected, of course,’ she said. ‘As we might have guessed.’
‘Pleasing, though,’ said Mariner. ‘It might indicate that he’s got something to hide. Shut it down and we’ll get it back to Granville Lane for Max to have a look at. I’m trying to work out where Dee Henderson fits into all this. She knows the man, works with him.’
‘Do you think she could be involved?’ Jesson said.
‘As an accomplice, you mean?’
‘Why not? Think of Fred and Rosemary West.’
‘But their whole relationship was founded on shared deviancy that went back years. We’ve got nothing to suggest that Dee was like that,’ Mariner pointed out. ‘There could be something between them, though. She could have eloped with him.’
‘What, and abandon her children without so much as a goodbye? That would be pretty unusual,’ said Jesson. ‘Hayden and Dee were working together on the Wednesday afternoon before she disappeared. Isn’t it more likely that she’d worked out what Hayden was up to, or even just noticed something about his behaviour that caused her to question him, or make some kind of comment? If Hayden is our washerwoman and he thought Dee was on to him, then he’d have to do something about that right away.’
‘It would be easy for him,’ Mariner agreed. ‘He could just offer her a lift home.’
‘And Coral?’
‘Same as Dee. If we’re right about her, then Hayden has done something with her during the night on Wednesday. He comes back here, either having disposed of her, or maybe even bringing her with him. Coral turns up first thing Thursday morning to clean his house and she sees or hears something that arouses her suspicion.’
‘But why leave Coral here and incriminate himself?’
‘He’s pushed for time. And he’s got a nosy neighbour. On Thursday morning he’ll have wanted to keep up the pretence that he was going to work. And he might be panicking. There are now two people who have worked out what he’s up to. He needs to get away fast. Let’s see what Croghan has to say.’
‘What is it with doctors?’ said Jesson, as they descended the stairs.
‘Power,’ said Mariner. ‘It’s as simple as that.’
After allowing Stuart Croghan what he thought was a reasonable time with the corpse, Mariner could no longer resist returning to the utility room. ‘Is this the same person that killed Grace Clifton and Rosa Batista?’ was his first question.
Croghan’s response was typically measured. ‘Couldn’t say for sure, of course,’ he said. ‘Although it’s asphyxiation, the MO is very different and she doesn’t fit the physical profile of your other victims, does she?’
‘We’re thinking she wasn’t part of the plan,’ said Mariner. ‘How long has she been here?’
‘Several days,’ said Croghan. ‘That’s about as accurate as I can be right now.’
‘Could she have been here since last Thursday?’
‘It’s possible. The ambient temperature is low, and it’s dry in here and very clean, but as you can tell, decomposition is already starting.’
It was bad news. So far no passport had been found. If Hayden had got away days ago, he could be anywhere by now.
‘Do you think he brought the others back here?’ Glover said.
‘We can’t be certain until forensics have done their worst,’ said Mariner. ‘But if he can pick them up and get them into his car, why not? He can drive straight into the garage and from there bring them into the house unseen. Here he has everything at his disposal.’
On their way out, Jesson stopped by the door of the lounge. ‘Have you seen this?’ She went over to the baby grand piano. ‘It’s beautiful. Must be worth a fortune, and it’s just sitting here.’ Lifting the lid, she idly pressed some of the keys in a simple tune. ‘That’s it,’ she said.
‘What?’ said Mariner.
She played the tune again. ‘It might seem a bit obscure,’ said Jesson. ‘But it’s the first thing my girls learned to play when they started piano lessons. It’s called Papa Haydn.’ She looked up at Mariner. ‘P for Papa?’
It was getting late and Mariner had a decision to make. Reluctantly he phoned Mercy. ‘There have been some developments at work,’ he said. ‘Would you be able to meet Jamie from the bus tonight and get him something to eat?’
‘No problem.’ She was as easygoing as ever. Mariner felt like a traitor.
He returned to the Gannow with a further warrant in order to access Hayden’s personnel record at the clinic, and some time to look over it. This time he was shown into the modern, well-appointed office of the clinic’s director, Alexander Bloom, which looked out over expansive gardens and a lily pond with benches arranged around it, two of them occupied either by staff or patients, it was hard to tell.
‘What can you tell me about Leo Hayden?’ Mariner asked, sinking back into one of the easy chairs that faced Bloom’s desk.
‘We‘re fortunate to have him working here,’ said Bloom. ‘He’s good at his job and he really gets results, although I’m not sure that his heart is always in it.’
‘How do you mean?’
‘I’ve always had the impression Leo doesn’t like working here much. He’s always made it pretty clear that he values his work at the military hospital more highly, to the extent that he is occasionally openly disparaging about some of the clients here.’
‘So why does he stay?’ Mariner asked.
Bloom turned his palms upwards. ‘It pays very well. Our patients have a lot of ready cash at their disposal. Leo thinks that’s half the problem. They are spoiled and self-indulgent, with too much money and too much time on their hands, and actually that’s what makes them so unhappy.’
‘Is he right?’ asked Mariner.
‘About some of them, undoubtedly. They enjoy the luxury of being able to pay someone to listen to them. I think after some of the situations Leo has worked in, he finds that difficult.’
‘I understand he’s worked in Africa,’ said Mariner.
‘Primarily in conflict zones, helping traumatized victims,’ said Bloom. ‘He came here from the Congo, where he was working with women and children who had suffered terribly. They’d been beaten and raped and witnessed their loved ones slaughtered. I can see Leo’s point of view. Much of what we do here must seem trivial by comparison. But I think for him it’s a means to an end, an easy way of making money that will enable him to continue with what he sees as more worthwhile work. I think he has plans to return to Africa at some point soon.’
‘Does he ever make his views known to the patients?’ Mariner asked.
‘He’s a professional,’ said Bloom, ‘and behaves accordingly. He keeps his personal feelings in check.’
‘Does he like that, being in control?’
‘It’s not unusual in our profession. After all, what we’re often trying to do for our patients is create order from chaos.’
‘I understand Dr Hayden has some ongoing health problems,’ Mariner said.
‘He contracted an intestinal problem when he was on the African continent. I’d never come across it before, but it flares up from time to time and when it does, I understand it’s quite debilitating.’
‘So he requires regular time off?’
‘It strikes perhaps every couple of months.’
‘And he’s on emergency standby for the QE too,’ Mariner said. ‘What happens if he gets a call to go there?’
‘His list here is cancelled, and if there’s anything urgent, I or one of the other staff pick it up. It was a condition Leo insisted upon, but we happily agreed.’
‘How well do you know Leo personally?’ asked Mariner.
‘Hardly at all. He’s quiet, keeps to himself. I have to admit to being shocked by this turn of events. It really doesn’t add up that Leo is this kind of man.’
‘Do you have patients staying overnight here?’
‘We have a small number of beds, yes,’ said Bloom.
‘Then I’d like to see one of your sheets, please.’ But as Mariner had already guessed, the Gannow Clinic sheets were nothing so coarse as pure cotton, and bore no laundry marks. He didn’t even bother to take one. Mariner’s final request before leaving the clinic was a copy of the photograph from Hayden’s personnel record, which could now be circulated nationally.
When Mariner eventually made it home that evening he found everything quiet. Mercy and Jamie were sitting watching TV companionably together, Mercy apparently content to watch endless reruns of Pointless all over again.
‘Thanks for stepping in this afternoon,’ said Mariner. ‘I really do appreciate it.’
‘Oh, it’s no problem, you know that. I’m always happy to help,’ said Mercy.
‘Actually,’ said Mariner, ‘it shouldn’t happen again. Jamie’s been offered a full-time place at Manor Park, starting next week.’
‘Oh,’ said Mercy. Her face fell momentarily before she rearranged it into a smile. ‘Well, that’s good, isn’t it? Jamie likes it there, don’t you, Jamie?’
‘He does,’ said Mariner. ‘And it means you won’t have to be running around after us any more.’ He was putting a spin on it, and felt guilty for doing so. ‘You’ll have more time to take care of Carlton.’
‘Oh, he doesn’t need me,’ said Mercy. ‘He’s his own man.’ She didn’t say anything further, but as they waited for her taxi to arrive, she was unusually pensive.
TWENTY-FOUR
On Thursday morning, Charlie was applying himself once more to the CCTV footage, this time with one eye on the headshot of Leo Hayden pinned above the monitor. He was continuing to review the particular days when Rosa and Grace were there. But so far he’d been unable to identify anyone who resembled the doctor. ‘If Hayden goes to the cafeteria a lot, he’d know where the CCTV cameras are and could easily make a deliberate effort to avoid them,’ he said to Jesson.
‘You’d think, given his attitude towards the Gannow patients, that he might have selected one of them as a victim,’ she said.
Mariner spoke up from where he was adding Hayden’s details to the incident board. ‘That job is his main source of income,’ he pointed out. ‘He wouldn’t want to foul his own nest. Besides, he likes the women he’s taken. They’re specially selected for their physical attributes and after he’s finished with them he cleans them and wraps them carefully before burying them, then he launders their clothes and polishes their shoes. He’s being respectful towards them.’
‘That’s what I don’t understand,’ said Jesson, her freckled nose wrinkling. ‘There’s no sign of sexual activity, so what does he do with them? What does he get out of it? And why go to all that trouble afterwards?’
‘Maybe it’s about protecting them. He’s seen women subjected to some atrocious treatment. In his twisted mind, maybe this is his way of trying to make amends.’
‘By killing them?’ Jesson didn’t buy it. ‘And ironing their clothes? I don’t know many blokes who can even use an iron.’
‘But you saw how tidy his house is,’ said Mariner. ‘He’s obsessive. We’re hardly talking about Mr Normal here, remember.’
‘So where do you think he is?’
‘Well, he could have phoned in sick on Thursday morning from anywhere,’ said Mariner. ‘The neighbour saw him leave the house, but we don’t know where he went.’
‘And if Dee’s with him, is she still alive?’
‘The last definite sighting of both of them is in critical care on Wednesday evening. The question is, was Hayden alone when he left, or did Dee leave with him?’
The company responsible for parking security at the hospital monitored vehicles arriving and leaving each car park from a central control room. Mariner went back over to the QE to watch the CCTV footage for himself from a tiny office, whose only view of the outside world was via the extensive bank of monitors; this was not a job for claustrophobics. But Anwar, the younger of the two men on duty this morning, seemed cheerful enough in his work. Hayden’s car was recorded arriving in one of the designated multi-storey staff car parks at 3.09 on the Wednesday afternoon, soon after Dee had summoned him. He’d helpfully parked close to one of the internal CCTV cameras, which enabled them to watch him get out of his car, retrieve something that looked like a briefcase from the back seat, and walk to the nearest exit with a long, confident stride. A little after eight o’clock the same evening he was seen returning alone, and leaving the car park. Cameras on the main hospital site followed the cars progress as he left, turning out onto Metchley Lane. It meant that Hayden must have picked up Dee Henderson sometime after that. ‘Thanks,’ said Mariner. I’ll need to take a copy …’
