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“Jacket’s a bit heavy, boss. You check out the pockets?”
Another car pulled up at the shops. Gardener noticed a crowd of onlookers had gathered. The scene was obviously better than breakfast TV. Fitz stepped out of the vehicle. That’s all they needed, Gardener thought. He and his partner would receive a torrent of abuse, as if it was their fault they now had a double murder on their patch in the same night.
He turned his attention back to the clothing. The jacket had two outside pockets. In one, he found an empty purse. The other contained a knife.
Gardener held it up to the butcher. “You recognize it?”
He shook his head. “No, it’s not one of mine.”
Gardener wasn’t pleased. It was the second blade he’d seen tonight. Nicola Stapleton had been pinned to the floor by a bayonet. Barry Morrison had a knife in his pocket. She had blood spatter in her kitchen, he had it on his jacket. What did it all mean?
One inside pocket had a driver’s licence, which confirmed it was Barry Morrison. The other pocket had a small rent book. Gardener opened it and sighed deeply.
“What is it?”
He showed the book to his partner. Their problems really were mounting. The name on the rent book informed them it belonged to Nicola Stapleton.
Gardener took the jacket from Reilly and held it out for him. “Take a look. What do you see?”
Reilly peered closely for some time.
“Blood spatter. Do you think it’s hers?”
“After finding the rent book, there’s no reason to think it isn’t.”
“Do you think he killed her?”
“Maybe, but who killed him?”
“There is another option. He didn’t kill her, but he was forced to watch.”
“That sounds possible. Whoever killed Nicola Stapleton, and for whatever reason, then brings our friend back home and kills him.”
“Where? In his flat?” said Reilly. “There’s no evidence to suggest he was killed here.”
“You’re right, but if he was killed in the flat, why go to the effort of dragging the body all the way down the stairs and leaving him here, outside?”
“Make it public. Maybe there’s someone else living close by, and the killer wants to send a message. Maybe he or she wants someone to see this, as an example.”
“Could be. How did they kill him?”
Reilly shrugged. “His body’s swollen, but it doesn’t look like he’s taken a beating.”
“There’s no blood to suggest he was stabbed, either.”
“Heart attack?” suggested Reilly.
“Could be, but I don’t think so.”
Gardener examined the body again, noticing Morrison hadn’t been shot or visibly wounded in any way. So where did that leave them?
“Maybe he’s been poisoned,” offered his sergeant.
“That’s the best option at the moment. It’s certainly nothing visible,” said Gardener.
“I don’t think he’ll be the last, either,” replied Reilly. “These two will be the first. Mark my words.”
“I don’t doubt you.”
