‘She had blood on her dress,’ Sara said.
‘Find her something else to wear. I’ll need forensics to check it out. Are you sure she’s not responsible?’
‘We are confident that she’s not,’ Sean said.
CSE Crosley entered the far bedroom. ‘Whoever she is, she’s a bloody savage,’ he said. So far, Sara and Sean had not seen the body. ‘Watch your step. You can see the blood on the floor. Keep to one side of it.’
Sara followed Crosley, almost felt as if she wanted to throw up, an acidic taste in her mouth. She looked away and regained her composure.
Sean came in and saw Brad Howard lying on his back in Ingrid’s room. He was naked. In his chest there was a thin knife, its handle protruding.
‘Straight in the heart,’ Stan Crosley said. ‘Mid-coitus.’
‘What do you mean?’ Sean asked.
‘What I just said. A few more checks to confirm, but it seems conclusive. He was engaged in sexual intercourse when the knife was inserted.’
‘Ingrid Bentham?’ Sara asked.
‘It looks as though it is. Fingerprints and DNA will confirm. She’s a nasty one if it’s her,’ Crosley said.
‘Nasty and malevolent. Evil.’
Sean shuddered at the thought of what had happened in that room; Sara remained impassive, surveying the scene.
‘If you two are finished gawking, I’ve got a job to do,’ Crosley said.
‘We’re finished.’ Sean was feeling unwell. He had seen Gregory Chalmers, as well as his wife. On that occasion, he had vomited on some flowers in the back garden; this time, he would not vomit, but he needed a hot drink. The policewoman outside with Gloria had organised a flask of coffee from a café not far away. Sean took a plastic cup and helped himself to a drink. Gloria was sitting in the back of an ambulance; a mild sedative had been administered to her.
‘He’s dead, isn’t he?’
‘Unfortunately, he is,’ Sara replied. ‘Were you close?’
‘Sort of, but he fancied Ingrid.’
‘Had she slept with him before?’
‘Saint Ingrid of the perpetual virginity?’
‘Yes.’
‘Never. She never had a man over, and then she kills the first one that she invites in.’
‘But why?’
‘It was because of me. That’s why Brad is dead.’
‘What are you not telling us?’
‘She phoned me last night.’
‘Why didn’t you tell us?’ Sara asked.
‘She wanted the ring; the one you took. She said it was important to her, and if I had stolen it, or given it to the police, then…’
‘She threatened you?’
‘Yes, I was scared.’
‘But you stayed here in the apartment knowing what she is capable of?’
‘I’ve nowhere to go, and besides, this is my home, or it was.’
‘Then why Brad?’
‘Revenge, I suppose. I told her that the police had found the ring, and they were keeping it as evidence. I wasn’t lying.’
‘She didn’t believe you?’
‘Not at all, but then I do lie occasionally. She knew me well enough.’
‘You were not here last night,’ Sean asked.
‘I stayed with a friend.’
‘Male?’
‘Female. I only came back today to pick up some clothes. That’s when I found him.’
‘Did you know that Brad was coming over?’
‘No, but if Ingrid had phoned him, he would have come.’
Stan Crosley came out from the apartment for a break. He was carrying a change of clothes for Gloria. He saw Sean and Sara by the ambulance. ‘A word, if you don’t mind,’ he said.
‘Sure, what is it?’ Sara asked.
‘Did you take a look at the wall behind the door?’
‘No.’
‘I’ve got a photo here on my phone.’
Sean and Sara looked at the display as Crosley held it up to them. There was a large sheet of paper secured with tape. On it, written in blood, Murder is only a number. Below it was the number 3.
‘She’s playing with us,’ Sara said. ‘What kind of woman can behave like this?’
‘One that is crazy; one that will kill again,’ Sean said.
Chapter 8
A door-to-door investigation, conducted in the vicinity of Gloria and Ingrid’s apartment, had proved negative. The night before the discovery of the body it had been raining and miserable, and very few people had been out on the street. One woman believed she had seen a man heading up to the apartment, but she had been vague in her recollection of events and certainly had not seen a woman.
Brad Howard’s body, once Crosley and his team had completed their investigation at the murder scene, had been removed and taken to Pathology. An autopsy would be conducted, although the cause of death was not in any doubt. Whether he had been stabbed mid-coitus, as the crime scene examiner had said, would need to be determined.
For a woman who had been dedicated to chastity, Ingrid Bentham had indeed come a long way. The assumption with Gregory Chalmers had been that it was misguided love, coupled with paranoia, and a lack of the drugs needed to moderate her condition. But now, with Gloria and her sometime boyfriend, there seemed to be another element, even more disturbing.
Ingrid Bentham had apparently discovered the joy of killing, although it may have always been there, and now it was number 3. Sara wondered how long before number 4, and where and whom?
And what was the significance of the ring?
Sara and Sean wondered how the woman was able to appear and disappear at will. London was awash with street cameras, yet none had picked her up.
Stephanie Chalmers had left the hospital and moved in with her sister. The house where her husband had died was firmly locked up. His widow had no intention of ever entering the house again, which seemed illogical to Sara, as it was a beautiful home, but she supposed painful memories
