A Long Shadow Page 2

  “All right,” agreed Shadow. He pulled himself up—relieved to leave the cold, hard plinth—and turned to go, when something occurred to him.

  “Why were you on Goodramgate anyway? Don’t you usually stay in Museum Gardens?” he asked. Jake flicked the stub of his cigarette away and turned his attention to the bag containing the pies.

  “They’re doing up the Hospitium and the builders have put up barricades. You can’t get along the path to the bridge now.”

  Shadow nodded at the explanation and left the two of them. When he looked back a few seconds later and saw Jake sharing the remaining pies with Missy, he gave a sigh of regret. He should have held on to one. When his stomach calmed down it would have been a welcome mid-morning snack. He made his way along St Leonard’s Place, deciding he may as well head towards The Haven and see if the people there could shed any light on what had happened to the dead girl.

  *

  The Haven was a shelter for the homeless, situated just off Bootham between the city walls and St John’s, the city’s oldest independent school. The shelter had been opened by Susie Slater, a local girl, who had briefly found fame as a pop star, via a TV talent show nearly thirty years ago. Shadow could quite clearly recall her being on the television and in the newspapers, when he was a young constable down in London. When she retired and returned permanently to her home city, she remained a minor celebrity, called upon whenever a supermarket or nightclub needed opening.

  A couple of decades later, when the hit singles were only a distant memory to most people, she and her partner, Luke Carrington, decided to announce in the local press that they wanted to give something back to the city where they had both grown up. They turned Luke’s family home, a large four-storey house with a long garden running down towards the river, into The Haven. By all accounts, The Haven was a success. The police were rarely called out there, and Susie and Luke worked with the residents to get them help for their problems and had even managed to get some of them into work.

  As Shadow walked down Bootham, dodging a wave of tourists disembarking from their coach, he heard the now-familiar sound of soft feet running up behind him. Although he made a point of not answering his mobile and rarely responded to texts or voicemail, his new sergeant seemed to have an uncanny ability to track him down.

  “Yes, Jimmy, what is it?” he asked, without turning around.

  “I’ve got an update, sir,” replied the younger man, easily falling into step alongside his boss. “Fay Lawton has no next of kin. Her father is unknown; her mother was in and out of prison for most of her life but died of a drug overdose five years ago. Fay was raised mainly by her maternal grandmother, but she died of a stroke three years ago. That’s when Fay became homeless and she’s been fending for herself ever since.”

  Shadow nodded at the sad, but predictable information. It was a familiar story for many of those living on the streets.

  “I’ve spoken to Jake. According to him, Fay spent most nights at The Haven. Let’s see if anyone there can tell us why she didn’t stay there last night. Any news on the post-mortem? Who’s on duty?”

  “Donaldson, sir,” Jimmy replied with a grimace.

  Shadow rolled his eyes. Two pathologists worked for North Yorkshire Police and they could not have been more different. Sophie Newton was in her thirties and from Newcastle. She was diligent, helpful and in possession of a decent sense of humour. Donaldson, however, was arrogant, pompous and treated each unexplained death he was presented with as a personal inconvenience. He had been threatening to retire for years and as far as Shadow was concerned, that day couldn’t come soon enough.

  “His secretary told me he would only speak to the chief investigating officer,” Jimmy continued. Shadow laughed ruefully.

  “Well aren’t I the lucky one?” As they turned the corner away from the traffic and on to Marygate, he glanced down and scrutinised what his deputy was wearing. Jimmy, as ever, was dressed in jeans, trainers and a leather jacket.

  “Have you ever thought of dressing a little more formally, Sergeant?” he enquired. Jimmy, who was gradually becoming used to his boss’s almost constant flow of criticism, lowered the zip of his jacket a couple of inches.

  “I’m wearing a shirt and tie underneath, sir, but trainers are good, you know, in case I need to chase after someone.”

  Shadow shook his head. He couldn’t recall the last time he’d needed to chase a suspect.

  *

  The Haven was in the middle of a row of tall Georgian terrace houses and from the outside, looked no different to its neighbours. Black iron railings ran along the front and several stone steps led up from the street to the imposing dark blue front door. Shadow was surprised to find it swung open automatically when they approached. They stepped into the narrow hallway and walked through a short corridor that led to the reception area. The modern way it had been furnished jarred with the original tiled floor and the elegant staircase leading upstairs. With its pale wooden desk and brightly coloured sofas, it looked like it could belong to any hostel or budget hotel. Only the noticeboard covered in posters for the Samaritans and leaflets for various drug and alcohol rehabilitation agencies gave a clue as to what the place really was.

  Behind the desk, a young receptionist with bright pink hair and a nose piercing looked like she had recently been crying. She managed a small smile when she saw Shadow and Jimmy approach, but her eyes filled with tears again, when they explained they were there to ask about Fay. Between loud sniffs, she managed to direct them to the garden at the back of the property, where she told them they would find Susie Slater, who had been on duty the previous night.

  They walked down another short corridor and through the back door that was propped open with a small stone Buddha. The garden was surprisingly large for a house so close to the city centre and was surrounded by a high brick wall on the remaining three sides.

  Susie was sitting alone on a swing seat in the shade of a blossoming cherry tree, with a pair of gardening gloves and secateurs laying by her side. Shadow recognised her immediately. She hardly seemed to have changed since her days as a pop star. Her long blonde hair was still piled messily on top of her head and her pale blue eyes, with perhaps a few extra creases at the corners, were still heavily lined with kohl. She was wearing slim-fitting jeans, a long white embroidered shirt, and on her arms were many thin silver bangles that jangled when she rose to greet the two policemen.

  Shadow made the introductions and followed her as she led them through the flower beds and past the vegetable patch to a small wooden table with four chairs.

  “Do sit down, gentlemen, please. May I offer you a glass of lemonade?”

  She gave a discreet wave and Shadow turned to see the pink-haired girl slowly carrying a tray with three glasses and a jug of lemonade across the lawn. She placed the tray on the table without a word and then turned and walked back to the house, wiping her eyes with the sleeve of her hoodie as she went.

  “Thank you, Jess,” Susie called after her, before turning her attention back to Jimmy and Shadow.

  “I expect you are here to ask about poor Fay.” Her voice was soft and sad as she poured out three drinks.

  “You know about Fay already?” asked Shadow, as he accepted the glass with a smile.

  “It’s a small city, Chief Inspector, and unfortunately bad news travels quickly. Do you know yet what happened?”

  “We won’t know exactly until after the post-mortem. I understand she usually stayed here.”

  “Yes, most nights since her grandmother died.”

  “She had no other family?”

  “I’m afraid not, Chief Inspector. The people here were probably the closest thing she had to family. I like to think that she thought of this place as a sort of home from home.”

  “So why wasn’t she here last night?”

  “There was a row.” Susie paused and took a sip of lemonade, as if trying to carefully choose her words. “Fay was involved with Ryan, one of our other part-time residents. Yesterday, Ryan’s ex-girlfriend, Kayleigh was released from prison. At first, all was fine. The three of them met up and went out to celebrate at Ted’s Bar, but then things got a little messy. There was an argument. Apparently, Ryan took Kayleigh’s side, so Fay was upset. She came here, but she couldn’t possibly stay. She was obviously quite drunk, and we have a very strict no drugs or alcohol policy.”

  “Did Fay have a problem with drugs or alcohol? Was she receiving treatment?” asked Shadow.

  Susie shook her head and her long silver earrings sparkled in the sun.

  “Not as far as I know. I suppose you could say she had dabbled in the past. However, Fay was easily led. You see she was quite young for her age, trusting and impressionable.”

  “This lemonade is really good,” interrupted Jimmy, as he drained his glass. Shadow scowled at him, but Susie beamed.

  “Thank you, Sergeant, I’m pleased you enjoyed it. We grow the lemons here in the greenhouse. We’re trying to be as self-sufficient as possible. Almost all the fruit and vegetables we eat here are grown in this garden—apples, pears, carrots, tomatoes, all sorts of things. The residents sometimes help out. I think they find it therapeutic. We even have our own chickens, Bianca, Marianne and Jerry with Mick the cockerel of course.” She laughed, and Shadow smiled politely at the joke. Jimmy looked blank and Shadow sensed he was about to ask for an explanation, until he caught his eye and gave a slight, but firm shake of his head.

  “Can you tell me what time Fay left here, Miss Slater?” he asked. Susie frowned and thought for a moment.

  “We always lock the front door at eleven and she arrived just before then. As I said, she was upset. I tried to calm her down, but when I said she couldn’t stay, she took off. I’m not sure, but it was pr
obably about ten past eleven.”

  “Would it be possible to speak with Mr Carrington too?”

  “I’m sorry, he’s not here right now. He’s out collecting supplies for our soup kitchen.”

  “You do that as well as running this place? That’s very admirable, Miss Slater.”

  Susie shrugged and gave a sad smile. “Oh do please call me Susie—everybody does.” She paused to refill Jimmy’s glass. “And the soup kitchen really isn’t much bother, but there are so many out on the streets who can’t come here because of their addictions; the least we can do is make sure they have a decent meal a couple of times a week. We hold it every Tuesday and Saturday at 6pm in Kings Square.”

  “How many inmates do you usually have staying here?” Shadow asked.

  Susie raised an eyebrow in mock horror and wagged her finger at the policemen.

  “Now, now, Chief Inspector, they are our residents, not inmates, and we can take a maximum of eight.” Her tone was light-hearted and teasing, but Shadow still inclined his head apologetically.

  “Do you and Mr Carrington stay on site too?”

  “No, when Luke inherited the property, he was adamant he didn’t want to live here.”

  Shadow glanced back towards the house and wondered why someone wouldn’t want to live in such a lovely house with its graceful interiors and beautiful garden.

  “You don’t have any issues with security?” he asked.

  “Not so far, Chief Inspector. We ask our residents to sign in and then out in the morning—that’s it. After all, there has to be an element of trust, don’t you think?”

  Shadow was not trusting by nature, but he decided it was probably not the time to mention this. The two policemen stood to leave, and Susie escorted them back through the house to the front door. There was now no sign of Jess at the reception desk.

  “Thank you for your time and for the lemonade, Miss Slater.” Shadow and Jimmy both shook her hand.

  “Not at all, Chief Inspector, do let me know if there is any more news about poor Fay.”

  “Of course.” Shadow agreed as he walked through the automatic door.

  *

  The two policemen left behind the peace and tranquillity of Marygate and stepped back out into the traffic and noise of Bootham. Shadow thought what an appropriate name The Haven had. In fact, to Fay and to the others who stayed there, it must seem like heaven. He would have liked to have discovered more about Fay and to have spoken to the girl with the pink hair, but perhaps it was better to wait for the results of the post-mortem.

  “Right, time for lunch, I think,” he announced, as they strode back towards the city walls. Jimmy glanced at his watch. It was barely noon.

  “It’s a bit early for me, Chief.”

  Shadow shook his head. He was deeply suspicious of how little his sergeant seemed to eat. As far as he could tell he spent the day fuelled by nothing but chewing gum and takeaway coffees.

  “Well I’m eating now. I certainly won’t feel like it after I’ve seen Donaldson.”

  Shadow was notoriously squeamish. “Why don’t you track down the missing street cleaner from this morning?”

  “Do you think we’re looking at more than an overdose, sir?”

  “Probably not, but something Jake said this morning is bothering me,” Shadow replied without further elaboration. “I’ll be in here if you need me.”

  With that he stopped abruptly and stepped into the entrance of The Lamb and Lion, leaving his sergeant alone on the pavement.

  Chapter Two

  Across 7 (5 letters)

  Vote often despite Kremlin’s authority—that’s the spirit!

  It was later in the afternoon when Shadow and Jimmy met again on the other side of the city, at the mortuary. Shadow arrived first, closely followed by his deputy, to receive the results of the post-mortem from Donaldson. Miss Habbershaw, his fearsome secretary had informed them the doctor would be available from two o’clock, so Shadow had automatically added on an hour; however, it was now quarter past three and there was still no sign of Donaldson.

  “Did you find our errant young street sweeper?” he asked irritably, as they waited together in the corridor.

  “Yes, sir,” replied Jimmy, promptly scrolling through the screen of his electronic notebook. “Ross Jones lives in Holgate with his mother and grandfather, who suffers from multiple sclerosis. He’s been employed by the council as a street cleaner for exactly twelve days. Prior to that he worked at Speedy Peppers a takeaway pizza place, just off Nunnery Lane. He was at primary school with Fay, then secondary, not that she was there very much. He hadn’t seen her since he left school three years ago. This morning, he didn’t really get a good look at her or notice anything unusual around where she was found. In fact, he didn’t realise it was Fay, until he heard Jake tell me her name. He left as soon as Brian, his boss, said he could.”

  Jimmy flicked his notebook off and closed it. Before Shadow could ask any further questions, a door opened at the end of the corridor. Donaldson appeared and waved them through to where the body was. Shadow shivered as he stepped inside. Everything about the room was cold, from the artificially low temperature, to the clinical white tiles and the stark fluorescent lights.

  “Good afternoon, Chief Inspector,” said Donaldson. He looked Jimmy up and down, but didn’t bother to acknowledge him, although Shadow had introduced them several times before.

  “Didn’t you chaps always used to wear a suit and tie? Are standards slipping in CID?” he asked in his slightly sneering tone.

  “Times are changing,” replied Shadow, smoothly. “The new generation of officers need to be able to respond to the modern challenges of policing, not look like old duffers like you and me.”

  Jimmy looked surprised to hear Shadow defending him, but Donaldson scowled. He prided himself on his appearance. When not in scrubs, he always wore a three-piece suit with a handkerchief folded neatly in his top pocket.

  “Well for once, Shadow, it seems you haven’t been completely wasting my time.”

  Shadow didn’t bother to respond. He had always suspected Donaldson was a frustrated thespian and it was much easier to wait and allow him to deliver his well-prepared lines uninterrupted.

  “Your vagrant didn’t overdose, she was poisoned.”

  “Really?” asked Jimmy. Donaldson ignored him.

  “Specifically, a cyanogenic compound, or in layman’s terms, cyanide. It was almost certainly in the vodka she drank. The time of death was approximately one o’clock in the morning.” Donaldson then pulled back the blue sheet covering the body with a flourish. “You can quite clearly see the red mottled marks on her face, a classic sign that cyanide was involved.”

  Shadow hung back considering the pathologist’s information, while Jimmy leaned in for a closer look. Shadow did not need to look at the body again. He could clearly remember the unusual blotches from this morning and had no desire to see what was on the slab, after Donaldson had done his work.

  “How quickly would the cyanide have killed her?” he asked.

  “A mere matter of minutes.”

  “Had she taken any drugs?”

  “No. The blood alcohol count was high, but not fatally so. She had probably been drinking earlier in the day, but she hadn’t eaten, her stomach was empty.”

  “Any sign of assault?”

  “If by that you mean, did someone force her to drink the poison? I would say no, she drank of her own volition.”

  “So, it could be suicide?” asked Jimmy. Shadow was about to reply, when Donaldson scoffed at the idea and gave Jimmy a patronising smile.

  “Rather an elaborate way for someone like her to go about taking her own life, Sergeant. Lacing her vodka with cyanide? I’m sure there are more readily available toxins she could have got her hands on. Or why not throw herself into the river or under a train for that matter?”

  “But it’s still a possibility we can’t rule out yet,” interjected Shadow, despairing at the pathologist’s callousness.

  *

  The two police officers left Donaldson as soon as they could, eager to get away from both the person and the place.

  “You’d better get on to forensics and find out everything you can about that vodka. We need to find out where it came from and who might have bought it. In the meantime, tell uniform to get in touch with the publicans and bar managers. They need to be warned that there could be a batch of dodgy vodka in the city. Find out if any of them have been approached.”