‘Wendy, look after Gwendoline,’ Isaac said. ‘I’ll go with Larry to the address.’
‘We need to identify the aftershave the man was wearing,’ Wendy said.
‘Forensics can probably do that if the smell is at the flat,’ Larry said.
‘Maybe, but it’ll help Gwendoline if she’s occupied. The man’s experienced at killing. He’ll not make mistakes with the flatmate. He didn’t expect to meet Gwendoline again. He wasn’t prepared.’
‘She wasn’t a bad flatmate, not as bad as Daisy,’ Gwendoline said sadly. ‘I must be jinxed. Share a flat with me, end up dead.’
***
Neither Isaac nor Larry were impressed with what constituted a flat for two heroin-addicted prostitutes. It was on the second floor of an old council block. The general area was not good either. In the flat, an old kitchen – two of the cupboard doors hanging off their hinges, a cooker that looked as though it had not been used for some time, a refrigerator which hummed loudly. In one corner of the main living area, an old television was switched to one of the shopping channels.
‘Where’s the body?’ Gordon Windsor, the CSE, said as he entered with his team.
‘In the other room. We’ve not been in there yet.’
‘And you won’t be until you kit up. I don’t want you making a mess of the place, destroying the evidence.’
‘We know the rules,’ Larry said.
Inside the bedroom, a woman was sprawled across the bed. ‘She’s been shot,’ Windsor said.
‘We believe it’s the same person who killed Helen Langdon and James Holden.’
‘If that’s the case, there’ll not be much evidence.’
‘The man’s rattled. He hadn’t expected to be recognised by the prostitute he’d drugged before.’
Isaac looked around the room: no fairy lights, no massage oil, no sign that the woman brought men back to the flat. On a bedside table stood a photo of a family. Isaac assumed it was of the woman’s family in a happier time. A picture of the dead woman and two others, one of them Gwendoline, was taped to the wall.
‘Not much to see here,’ Windsor said.
‘Any observations?’
‘She’s been shot at close range. There’s a sign of a struggle, not much damage to the place. The bullet is probably a 9 mm.’
‘The same gun that killed Langdon and Holden?’
‘That’s up to Forensics, not me.’
On the way out, Isaac and Larry looked into Gwendoline’s room. It was the same as the other woman’s, devoid of anything other than a bed, a few personal items, a few photos. Isaac picked up some clothes and toiletries, at Wendy’s request. Gwendoline was at the police station, and she would not be coming back to the flat. It was a murder scene, and it now represented the best chance to find out the identity of the murderer.
Outside on the street, the usual gathering of onlookers. One of the women standing in the crowd, in her forties, overweight, blotched face, came over. ‘I saw him,’ she said.
Isaac pulled her to one side. ‘What can you tell us?’
‘I was waiting at my door for a friend,’ she said. Isaac knew she was another prostitute and she had been waiting for a client.
‘Your name?’
‘Professional or my correct name?’
‘Both.’ The onlookers, sensing additional gossip, attempted to follow. A uniformed constable kept them behind the temporary barrier.
‘Delilah, a hint of forbidden delights,’ the woman said. It was clear she had retained a sense of humour.
‘Your real name?’
‘Mary Alton.’
‘Miss Alton, what can you tell us.’
‘Call me Delilah. Why don’t you treat me to a cup of tea and something to eat? Then we can talk.’
Isaac and Larry hoped it wasn’t a con job to get them to buy her a meal.
Inside the restaurant, not far from the murder scene, the three of them sat. A disinterested waiter took the order. Isaac thought the place looked unhygienic. Larry and the woman ordered fish and chips. Isaac settled for coffee only.
‘Is she dead?’ Delilah said.
‘She’s been shot.’
‘I can’t say I knew her. I’d occasionally hear her and her friend coming home, but apart from that, we didn’t talk much. I went into their flat once to borrow something or other, I can’t remember what.’
Alcohol, Isaac thought but did not comment.
‘Gwendoline was okay, the other one could be snooty.’
‘Snooty?’
‘She thought she was better than us. Supposedly she had grown up in a posh house somewhere. She spoke well, I’ll grant her that.’
‘You saw the man who shot her,’ Larry said.
‘I’m waiting for a friend.’
‘Client or friend?’ Isaac said.
‘One and the same. If they’ve got the money, they’re my friend. I’ve got my door open, just slightly, enough to see who’s coming up the stairs. My flat is near theirs. I can see it’s not him, so I close my door.’
‘Did he see you?’
‘No. He would have killed me if I had, wouldn’t he?’
‘It seems probable.’
‘I heard him knock on the door opposite and Annie opening it. That was the name I knew her by, probably not her real name, but most of us, we don’t want to remember where we came from.’
‘What happened then?’ Larry said.
‘Annie, she opens the door, and the man enters.’
‘You’re watching?’
‘Not then, but I can hear well enough. The man’s looking for Gwendoline, but she’s not there. I can tell he’s angry and Annie’s not saying much.’
‘Suspicious?’
‘Where I live? The building is full of people like me, like him. If someone’s screwing or arguing, I just turn up the music in my flat.’
‘Tell us about the man?’
‘He’s average, nothing special, although he wore a distinctive aftershave.’
‘You could smell it?’
‘My friend arrived after a few minutes. He thought I’d just had another man in my flat.’
