‘All right – Lynch or Megan could have got to the crime scene and back unhindered. But how would they fool the Stasi-meter?’
Lucy sat back a little to explain. ‘So they get up – in the dark – at 0500. They know not to switch on the lights. No burglar alarm to switch off, no electric clock with a spurt of power when it wakes them up. So far, so good. One of them – let’s say Lynch, but it could be either of them – slips out in darkness, into the car and over to the store. Megan stays in the dark until 0522, then she starts switching on lights and showers in both bathrooms, as if they’re both there.’
‘That’s feasible.’ Mike joined fingertips in a prayer motion. ‘Pray continue your bold narrative, madam.’
‘Lynch does the business, gets back by 0545, has breakfast with his lover and toddles off to the gym, where he has the shower they pretended he took earlier. Maybe ditches any bloodied clothes along the way. Megan is about to wash the tell-tale sheets when Dana shows up.’
‘Ah. If one of them is the killer, and they’re hiding their activities, why not put the sheets in the wash earlier? Why leave evidence that Lynch has, uh, stayed over?’
Lucy thought for a moment. It was a reasonable question. If the couple were being so forensically aware, and wanted to keep Lynch’s presence a secret if they could, why not wash the sheets straight away?
‘Because… Dana’s there earlier than they expected.’ Lucy was thinking it through. ‘They thought Lou would only be found when the shop staff arrived, not before. Which would be around 0730. Lou was discovered about two hours earlier than the killer would have anticipated. We found the body thanks to the silent alarm at Jensen’s Store. Maybe Megan doesn’t know the ins and outs of the store’s alarm system. Perhaps she thought it would be switched off since Lou was inside the store: she didn’t realise Lynch would be setting it off.’
‘Assuming he did set it off.’ Mike tapped his pen against the corner of the desk, until he sensed it was driving Lucy up the wall. ‘That bit – the entry into the store – is still the trickiest bit for me. We’re assuming Megan knew little about the security in that store, but that might not be entirely true. I mean, she co-signed the loans that paid for it, she co-owns the store, she’s still talking to Lou. Maybe he updated her each time he ramped up the security.’
They sat for a second.
‘Dana,’ they both stated at once.
‘We need to talk to Dana,’ said Mike.
‘She’s in with Whittler again,’ said Lucy. ‘Explaining how his lovely little cavern is being sullied. He might be sulking and refusing to speak by now. Let’s check.’
Chapter 24
Dana closed the door on Nathan. What she really wanted now was what she couldn’t get: an hour by herself in a darkened room with no noise and no people. She could feel she was near the edge. Her thinking was becoming ragged and distracted, buffeting from idea to idea; not fully taking in what was said, or how it was said. It was a warning sign: this time she’d had to finish talking with Nathan because she was exhausted, not because he was too drained to continue. She needed to be better than this, she told herself; had to be sharper. If she couldn’t grab that hour, she’d have to make do with a ten-minute island: drinking in some deep breaths, she texted Father Timms, requested a meet outside the station.
The investigation had accelerated: she had to run at the same pace.
Back in her office, she re-checked the canisters in her drawer and tapped her pocket. This time, she remembered to fish out her mobile and switch it on. Three messages from Stu.
First, he’d requested heavy-duty back-up machinery for tomorrow to help him sweep the cave and surrounding area. As per Dana’s instructions, he’d be the only one inside the cave: she was keeping her promise to Nathan.
Second, he’d pushed Forensics on the knife.
Third, she should check her emaiclass="underline" knife details.
The email from Forensics was perfunctory. The store carried more fingerprints than brands of lollies. Twenty-five sets of fingerprints identified, including staff members and customers on police file. Seventy-seven sets with no identification in the system. A full list of current idents had been sent through to Mike and Lucy earlier, before Mike tackled Spencer Lynch.
Dana considered the implications. Mike and Lucy would have already cross-referenced the twenty-five against anyone knowing Lou or Megan or potentially involved in the case. That would narrow down the numbers considerably; it would be their responsibility to chase any emerging leads. The seventy-seven were a worry: the killer could be among them, and already had half a day’s start. He or she might be across the country, or overseas, by now. If the killer wasn’t anyone they already knew existed, the possibilities blew out exponentially. The investigation would be weeks and months, maybe years. She shuddered.
Blood on the knife in question matched Lou Cassavette’s type: but nearly forty per cent of humanity was also A+. DNA to come in a day or two, but not even conjecture at this point. There were no fingerprints of any kind on the blade or handle. Any drops of blood from the blade when it came out of the wound had been smeared by the body falling to the floor, therefore there was no blood trail to indicate how the knife came to be under the freezer. Skittled there inadvertently was most likely but, pending further reports, impossible to prove at this point.
Dana had spent half the day waiting to find the knife, assuming it would be a major turning point. Some cases squirmed out of reach that way – killer facts turned out not to be so killer, while minor points eventually became crucial. This case was one of those. Almost certainly, the knife they had was the murder weapon: that alone indicated the killing was improvised, in the sense that someone pulled a knife from a packet in the store. It demonstrated a lack of overt planning to kill. But beyond that, it still didn’t prove who. And why remained the biggest question in her mind.
She was missing something she shouldn’t miss. And she knew it.
There was a knock on her door and two heads poked around, one above the other, in Scooby-Doo style. Mike and Lucy had emerged from their office. It was possible they’d caught the latest interview with Nathan from the CCTV feed.
‘Thelma and Freddy! Come in, guys. How’d it go with Lynch?’
‘I don’t like being Freddy,’ pouted Mike as they entered. ‘He was impossibly camp, always wore a cravat, for crying out loud, and he never solved anything.’
‘Yes, all true.’ Dana shrugged. ‘He was outperformed by a brainless dog. Your only other option is Shaggy, though; I can’t see you eating a sandwich taller than your upper body. Or saying “zoinks”.’ She tapped her pen against the desk. ‘On the other hand, Freddy got to drive the van; and I’m pretty sure he ended up in bed with Daphne, in the raunchy adults-only sequel they never made. So, you know, all good in the end.’
Mike remained unconvinced. ‘Still… I never sit with my back to a bookcase. And I don’t trust janitors, managers of old mines, or fairground owners.’
Lucy sniggered behind a fist.
‘Okay,’ said Mike. ‘Lynch? He opened up pretty well; he has motive, and he knows the place. But I kinda believe his answers, oddly enough. I went to see Megan after; checked up on some of the things Lynch had claimed. They pretty much corroborate each other, but their alibi is still flimsy.’
‘Crap.’
On the one hand, Dana wanted Megan and Lynch to be cleared unequivocally, so she could put all her thought into unravelling Nathan. However, Nathan’s motivation was mystifying.
Lucy added her news. ‘When I cross-reffed the list of fingerprint idents from the store, guess who came up? Spencer Lynch.’