Beautiful Death (20 page)

‘I had not seen Lily for several weeks just prior to
her death, but we had talked and she seemed perfectly normal to me.’

‘Why had you been apart?’ Jack knew why, but he enjoyed asking the question all the same.

‘I’ve been in Europe, giving a series of talks.’

Jack sat back. ‘And you can support that with evidence?’

Chan stared at him steadily now, his lips thinning. Jack refused to follow up with anything more, or look away.

‘DCI Hawksworth, am I to understand that I am a suspect in Lily’s murder?’

‘Everyone connected to Lily is a suspect,’ he replied, evenly.

‘Her sister?’

‘No, that —’

‘Her mother?’

Jack did not answer.

‘Father?’

‘We will be interviewing everyone, Professor,’ Kate confirmed, a harder edge to her tone, Jack noticed.

‘But you began with me,’ he said, taking them both in with one glance. ‘Why is that? Perhaps because Lily’s face was removed?’

Jack regarded him steadily. ‘Professor Chan, my people are currently talking to store owners in Brick Lane, doing doorknocks around the Bethnal Green area; they’re about to start interviewing canal boat owners; we’re talking with shoppers at Sainsbury’s.’

‘Our search will likely widen to Ms Wu’s customers, friends, acquaintances,’ Kate added.

‘But we tend to begin with those closest to the victim. You were her fiancé and being a celebrated cranio-facial surgeon does make interviewing you an
obvious leap,’ Jack explained, working hard to keep sarcasm from his tone.

Chan nodded, seemingly impervious. ‘Too obvious, though, wouldn’t you agree? I am a subtle man, DCI Hawksworth, and I suspect you may be too. You’re a very senior officer so your intelligence would presumably suggest to you that if a surgeon of my particular skills were planning to murder someone, he might not leave such an obvious calling card.’

‘You’d be surprised,’ Jack replied, trying to suppress a growl. He changed tack. ‘Professor Chan, did everyone in the unit know you were hoping to marry Ms Wu?’

‘Absolutely not.’

‘Why not?’ When Chan looked puzzled, Jack added, ‘I ask only because it seems natural that people who work together know a little about each other’s private life.’

Chan’s glance slid to Kate. ‘DI Carter, are you seeing someone at the moment?’

‘No, er, why?’ She stole a glance at Jack.

‘Because I saw you last night outside our offices.’

Jack watched Kate sweep back her hair, taking a moment or two to consider the man’s pointed remark. He was good — but he knew Kate cornered was his equal. ‘Professor Chan — not that this is relevant — but I wasn’t sure where the unit was housed. I thought I’d take some time to be sure so we wouldn’t be late for our appointment this morning.’ She gave a small shrug. ‘It’s not out of my way. I don’t live that far from here.’

The doctor did not seem impressed. ‘Very professional,’ he replied coldly. ‘But you haven’t answered my question.’

‘I’m not sure I’m obliged to, Professor. I was being courteous.’

‘I’m answering all of yours.’

She took a breath. ‘No, I am not seeing anyone.’

‘Even though I saw you with a man last night.’

Jack stepped in. ‘What has this —’ he began.

‘Sorry to be oblique, DCI Hawksworth,’ Chan interjected. ‘It’s not my intention to embarrass your colleague. My point is, do you know whether DI Carter is seeing someone?’

Jack bit the inside of his lip. ‘No.’

‘And do you have someone in your life?’

It was Jack’s turn to hesitate.

‘Forgive me again, I don’t mean to pry. That is, of course, your business, which is how I see it in any workplace. I don’t share personal pleasures, relationships, or private events with my staff, DCI Hawksworth. And neither do you two, though you are close colleagues, no doubt. No one here knew about Lily other than Dr Maartens because no one else needed to know. She was part of my private life. If we were married and seen out and about together at functions on behalf of the hospital or the clinic, then Lily would have become part of my public life and everyone here would have known her as Mrs James Chan.’

Jack hated the sound of that name. ‘What about the directors at the clinic? Did anyone from Elysium know about your relationship with Lily?’

‘Yes, as I said, Dr Maartens did. As for the others, if they did it is not because I told them. To be frank, I don’t think any of them concern themselves with my personal life, nor I with theirs.’

‘I understand. Do you know of anyone who might have had a grudge against Lily?’

‘No, not at all, but Lily kept her personal life intensely private. It’s how she wanted it, and I respected that. We both understood that until she put my ring on her finger, our private lives were our own.’

Kate stunned Jack by asking Chan if he thought Lily could have been involved with someone romantically. ‘I mean no disrespect, Professor Chan,’ she added, ‘but our job is to find her killer and that means asking hard questions of everyone connected with her. If you knew nothing about her life beyond the time she spent with you, then is it feasible that she could have been having a relationship with another man — or men?’

Jack was even more astonished when the surgeon showed not the slightest sign of having taken offence.

‘I think that’s a perfectly reasonable question.’ He sat back, arched his fingers and considered it. Jack felt Kate throw him a look of sympathy. Finally Chan replied. ‘I’d have to say I don’t know the answer. If Lily was involved with another man, or other men, I would have no way of knowing. I kept no tabs on her, if that’s what you mean. She stayed in touch and I was always very pleased to hear from her and to see her when I could.’

‘Again, forgive me,’ Kate continued, her tone sympathetic, her body language spot on, Jack realised. ‘But your carefully worded answer suggests something else.’

The professor regarded her, frostily. ‘What do you mean?’ he asked.

‘Well, Professor, let me rephrase my question by asking you whether you ever suspected Ms Wu of seeing other men during the time you were romantically involved with her.’

He didn’t hesitate. ‘Yes, I did. In fact I’d go so far
as to say I believed she was seeing someone else, but I had no proof and in truth no desire to find that proof, no interest in pursuing my suspicions.’

Cool as a cucumber
, Jack thought.

He watched as Kate gave a lovely performance; at first frowning, she began to say something, then seemed to think better of it. She cocked her head to one side and then, as if puzzled, to the other. ‘May I ask why, Professor?’

‘Why what? Why I wasn’t angry? Why I put my head in the sand? Or why I killed her?’

Both Jack and Kate froze.

‘Of course I didn’t kill her,’ Chan continued, his tone and gaze both wintry. ‘I didn’t pursue it because I probably didn’t want to know the truth. I was an older man hoping a beautiful young woman would be my wife. I could not react to every suspicion. And frankly I’m too busy to be worried by something I had no control over. Lily was not formally engaged to me and was free to do as she pleased.’

‘You’re certainly very generous in how you view a relationship, Professor,’ Kate said.

‘I’m simply objective. I don’t allow myself to be ruled by my heart. Had we been formally engaged or married, I might have acted upon my suspicions.’

‘You realise, Professor, that this admission gives you motive?’ she remarked carefully.

‘I don’t see why my vague, unsubstantiated suspicions should interest you.’

Jack didn’t want Kate to go on. He answered for her. ‘Because Ms Wu was pregnant at the time of her death,’ he said as baldly as he could, hoping to penetrate Chan’s icy composure, watching the man for any sign that he had punished Lily in the most dramatic and deadly of ways.

Chan blinked, but said nothing as he reached for his glasses and again took them off. He repeated the process of polishing them and, just as Jack felt he might explode with fury, Chan spoke. His voice was low and tight. ‘You astonish me, DCI Hawksworth. I suppose I would have found out soon enough.’

‘I’m sorry it’s me giving you this unpleasant news, Professor,’ he lied. ‘But as you say, you would have found out once the post-mortem results were made available. As Ms Wu’s fiancé, you have the right to be told in advance.’

Chan looked up, his green tea ignored, his glasses still in his hand. ‘It’s a shame I had that right. The child was not mine. Lily and I have not slept together.’

Kate must have felt sorry for the man. ‘This must be a terrible shock for you, Professor,’ she began, ignoring Jack’s glare. ‘If you’d prefer we can continue —’

‘It is a shock, yes. But I’d rather we completed this interview now. I have a busy few days ahead.’

Jack sat back in disbelief. Chan replaced his glasses. ‘Is something wrong, DCI Hawksworth?’

‘How can you be unmoved by this information, Professor Chan?’

‘Easily. I can assure you the child was not mine and now that I have this information I realise that Lily was not mine either. It will make dealing with her death much easier. I’m sorry if that offends you.’

‘Are you?’ Jack asked, his eyes glittering with threat.

Kate shifted. ‘Er, sir, I wonder if —’

Professor Chan stood up. He looked at his watch casually. ‘My apologies, I have a consultation quite
soon and I must prepare. If you have nothing further …?’

Jack and Kate stood also. ‘We may need to talk to you again, Professor.’

The man shrugged. ‘Of course. My secretary, Susan, will confirm when I’m available, although I should warn you I’m travelling to America the week after next.’

I’ll nail you before then, you bastard
, Jack thought. Outwardly he attempted a smile, although he was sure it looked more like a sneer. ‘DI Carter will likely want to talk to your staff and we may want to visit your clinic too.’

‘Fine on both counts. It’s best to contact the senior surgeons here via the admin secretary. She knows what’s going on in our diaries.’

‘Is Dr Maartens around today?’ Kate asked.

Chan shook his head. ‘He was called out to the clinic this morning.’

‘Okay, I’ll call him there,’ Kate said.

‘As for the clinic itself, your officers are welcome any time, but please set up an appointment first. Tell whomever you speak to that I have authorised this and I will also alert our staff there. You must understand, DCI Hawksworth, our guests are mostly international and very private.’

‘Don’t worry, Professor, we won’t alert the media to any celebrity facelift.’

Chan seemed to choke back whatever he was going to say, giving a brief, awkward and unhappy smile instead. ‘DI Carter,’ he said and shook Kate’s hand. ‘DCI Hawksworth.’ Jack almost didn’t allow his hand to be taken. Chan moved to the door and opened it, turning back to address them. ‘Feel free to finish your drinks.’ He looked directly at Jack. ‘The
green tea is untouched — you may like to try it, it’s very good for calming anger.’ He left, closing the door quietly.

If he was anywhere else, Jack would have kicked something. Instead he leaned against the table, his knuckles whitening as he pushed against his fists.

‘Jack?’ Kate tentatively began, all formality forgotten, a touch of apprehension in her voice.

‘Don’t worry, I’m not going to fling his fucking tea across the room, although I want to.’ He took a long, deep breath. ‘Let’s go. I want this arrogant sod’s hide.’

In the taxi back to Westminster there was frigid silence. Kate felt it needed to be broken before they returned to the ops room.

‘For what it’s worth I don’t think he sounded nearly as guilty as you seem to believe.’

‘Really.’ His tone was razor sharp.

‘You went for the jugular.’

Jack did not look her way; he stared out the window as Whitechapel gave way to the Embankment. ‘As you saw for yourself, he doesn’t bleed.’

‘Sir!’ Jack finally glanced at her, but looked away again. ‘Until we have some evidence I think we must stop talking to him as though he’s been charged with something or arrested as a suspect.’

‘Thank you for reminding me of the rules, DI Carter.’

‘I just don’t want this to go wrong. We all want to catch this killer, but if we fuck it up by not doing it by the book, then Lily’s murderer could walk free.’

Now he turned his full attention on her. She was
terrified his expression would hold that dark wrathfulness Jack was so capable of. Instead the fury had left his eyes. Perhaps something she had said had defused the anger for the time being. ‘So who was the guy you were with last night?’

17.

Denny Johnston was pissed off. A wrong-number phone call had dragged him from a rare and delicious dream in which he was a famous actor, surrounded by beautiful women. Just as the phone had rung, Denny had been handed a flute of champagne, and it had occurred to him that the bubbles in the glass matched the fizzing water of the hot spring he lolled in with three voluptuous beauties. They were predictably blonde, brunette and flame-haired, so he knew it was a dream, but it didn’t matter. It was the dream he waited for. It was his favourite, the one that visited him only infrequently, and he loved to hang on to it for as long as possible. The moment when he was ravished by the three gorgeous girls had never actually arrived, but even that didn’t matter; it was all about the anticipation, the longing for the moment when they slipped off their bikinis and urged him to take full advantage of their presence. Why he had been so focused at that moment on the bubbles he didn’t know, and he’d had no idea where the natural spa they were all enjoying was located — it seemed
to be on a clifftop that looked out to a sparkling azure ocean, reminding him of the holiday brochures he glanced through in the travel agency he made regular deliveries to in his part-time courier job. Again, it didn’t matter where or why. It only mattered that the dream had surprised and spoiled him with its arrival and he had intended to enjoy every last second of it … if only someone would answer that phone.

Now, glumly, he leaned against the cupboards in the tiny kitchenette of his flat bordering Shoreditch and Bethnal Green. He stared blankly at the kettle as it heated the water, his eyes looking bruised from a late night of drinking and porn movies with his mate. His fears had subsided in the blur of vodka and flesh, but in the clarity that daylight brought his anxiety was back — and twice as nerve-racking.

The van that he and Barnsey had dropped off at Sainsbury’s had not been the simple job that the Jew had promised. He had told them his sister owned the florist shop and he’d needed to borrow her van but couldn’t return it to Whitechapel on time. He’d offered them money to do the drop instead.

Denny remembered the man’s insistence. ‘There’s nothing in here,’ he’d said, flinging back the doors. Just buckets and stuff my sister keeps for her business,’ he’d assured them. ‘But she’ll have my hide if I don’t return it.’

Neither of them had thought to ask why it needed to be returned to a supermarket car park, nor had they taken much notice of the roll of sacking stashed beneath the shelving. It had just looked like a pile of fabric. Now Denny knew it had contained a body; the body of some Chinese woman — the latest victim of a serial killer loose in London.

Denny felt the bile rise again in his throat. He’d already been sick over this last night when he caught the BBC News and realised the horrifying truth. No amount of toothpaste or alcohol could banish the sour taste of vomit that had risen when he’d seen himself on that footage. Most people wouldn’t know it was him, of course, because of the beanie and scarf, plus he was practised enough to know that the CCTV cameras, though efficient, would have lost him once he’d left Brick Lane and disappeared into the sprawl of Bethnal Green. Nevertheless he and Barnsey had gathered up the clothes they’d worn that evening and thrown them straight into the poor bins on the other side of the city. The van’s keys were tossed into the Thames. Denny wanted to believe he was safe, and once the vodka hit the spot and the orgy on the telly was in full swing, he had felt okay for a while. But not now. He watched the steam billowing and waited for the kettle to click off. He jumped as his doorbell rang.

‘Fuck!’ he muttered, angry with himself for being so jittery but also for being so distracted he hadn’t heard any footsteps approaching.

He glanced out of the window and froze. Standing around the entrance to the flat were several armed police.

‘Come on, Denny, we can see you in there,’ said a man’s voice. ‘I’m Detective Sergeant Stu Appleton from Bethnal Green police. We need to talk to you.’

‘What about?’ Denny yelled through the door, looking around wildly.
As if he didn’t know
! He was trapped. There was nothing he could do except stall for time and try to stave off the inevitable.

‘We need to talk to you in connection with a stolen van.’

Fuck!
Denny groaned inwardly. He leaned against the door, tears stinging his eyes. He was for it now. They’d blame him for the Chinese girl. He wasn’t a murderer. He was just a stupid arsehole.

‘Denny. Come on,’ Appleton urged. ‘You have to come down to the station with us.’

‘Am I being arrested?’ he whined through the door.

‘You are, but —’

‘I had nothing to do with that girl!’

‘Listen, just come quietly. I know you’re not a murderer but you’re involved with one, we believe. Just tell us everything you know.’

‘But I didn’t
do
anything wrong. I just dropped off the van as I was asked to.’

‘Denny, a woman was murdered and you were driving her stolen van and, inadvertently, her corpse. Now I know you didn’t kill her and perhaps you knew nothing about her being in the back, but you have to aid our enquiries or it all looks rather suspicious, okay?’ Denny didn’t reply but Appleton was making sense. ‘You have to help us and then we can help you in return. If you tell us everything you know, we can catch the person who set you up, all right? Now open the door and come quietly. Don’t make us come in and get you.’

Denny unhooked the safety chain and opened the door. ‘Fuck me, it’s freezing out here, can I get dressed properly?’ he asked, a sulk in his voice.

Appleton looked amused. ‘You may, once we’ve read you your rights.’ After doing so he nodded at his companions. ‘You two go with him,’ he directed two of his colleagues. ‘You’re being arrested on suspicion only, Denny. Don’t try anything silly. These guys can maul you with a stare.’

‘I won’t!’ he threw back at Appleton. ‘I’m innocent.’

Appleton sighed. ‘All right, sunshine, hurry up and get dressed. You can tell us everything you know down the nick.’

Cam caught his eye from the doorway and Jack nodded that he wouldn’t be more than a moment or two.

He refocused on the telephone conversation. ‘Yes, sir,’ he answered. ‘Well, enjoy the trip.’ He waited a moment. ‘I know it’s not convenient, sir, but we’re gaining some momentum now, so I’ll keep you posted via email if your phone’s out of range.’ He paused again, giving Cam a look of apology. ‘All right, then, sir, will do. Bye.’

Jack put the phone down and let out a triumphant ‘Yes!’

‘Something go your way, sir?’ Cam asked.

‘The super’s been called out of town on some urgent gathering of the chieftains. He’s furious, of course, but it buys me a fraction of breathing space.’

Cam nodded. ‘Before you have to tell him, you mean?’

‘Yes.’ Jack sighed. ‘I reckon something has to break on this today or I’m done for.’

‘We’ve got the two blokes from the security film. They’re both already squealing they knew nothing, but they’re shit scared so presumably they’re ready to share everything they do know.’

Jack looked relieved. ‘Sounds like the Trojan unit worked.’

Cam grinned. ‘Apparently Johnston went very quietly.’

‘Get down there, Cam. Go lightly with the boys
at Bethnal Green but get in and interview thost two — they’re our only link.’

‘What about the canal boats?’

‘I’ll take over with that. I wouldn’t mind getting a look at where the other bodies were found.’

‘If you take Mal he can bring you up to speed. Preliminary investigations have thrown up a couple of names.’

‘Okay, good. Who are you taking with you down to Bethnal Green?’

‘I’ll take Angela.’

‘Okay. Can you tell Kate I need to see her?’

‘Will do.’ Cam disappeared.

Kate arrived moments later.

‘Kate, I want you to get over to this private clinic of Chan’s.’

‘Elysium.’

Jack nodded. ‘We need to build up a picture of Chan and his business. Go alone; you won’t look threatening to the staff so they may say more.’

She nodded. ‘Okay. I’ll get going now.’

‘Good luck. Remember,
everything
you can about Chan’s dealings. We know he’s not there today, and that might mean tongues are loosened a little.’

‘No problem.’

Jack was already reaching for the phone. He punched in a number. ‘Mal? You’re coming with me down to the canal. Everyone’s going in different directions today.’

‘Ready when you are,’ Malik replied.

‘Two minutes, it is.’ Jack ran a hand through his hair. Everything felt slightly out of control. He felt sorry for the youngsters on the team who just had to keep up. He’d got lucky with Sharpe this morning, but his luck couldn’t hold and the superintendent
would crucify him if Jack withheld information from him much longer. But he couldn’t be pulled off the operation yet. He wasn’t sure where they were but he sensed that cracks were forming. Years of experience told him something was about to reveal itself. It might be via the two mules picked up this morning, but he had to keep pushing and hoping that over this next day those cracks would widen and let him in.

He had one more call to make before leaving. ‘Dr Brooks, please,’ he said to the receptionist who answered her phone.

‘She’s with a patient, I’m sorry. Can I help?’

‘Could you just let her know that DCI Hawksworth called and she can call me when she’s free, or I’ll maybe try again later. There’s no rush, by the way.’

‘Thank you, DCI Hawksworth. I’ll let her know.’

He dragged on his coat and scarf. Malik was waiting as he emerged from his office.

‘Just let Joan know where we’re off to, could you Mal?’ Jack waved his mobile. ‘She can call us any time.’ He walked over to Sarah’s desk. ‘Can you hold the fort?’

She grinned. ‘Of course, sir. In fact, I want to move on a hunch I’ve had, if I may?’

‘Tell me.’

Sarah winced. ‘It’s a long shot, sir, but —’

‘Your gut’s telling you something?’ he finished for her.

‘Yes, sir.’

‘All right, let’s hear it.’

‘Some of the early forensics are back on the van, sir. We’re waiting on the file. But by phone I’ve just heard essentially the van held all the usual stuff you’d
expect of a florist. The only thing out of the ordinary was a receipt from up round Amhurst Park way. I’ll find out exactly what for soon enough. But it’s got me thinking about prostitutes, sir … er, up at Amhurst Park. The situation’s out of control in the region and the pimp activity is beginning to get violent. I noticed in the daily messages that Golf Delta’s recently helped set up a Safe Neighbourhood Team in the area. I know someone over there and it occurs to me it might just be worth asking around a bit.’

‘And how does this connect with Panther?’ Jack asked, intrigued, leaning over Sarah’s desk.

‘I’m not sure it does, sir. But it’s all part of that same region: Spring Hill, Whitechapel. A lot of girls working there have come in from Eastern Europe. They’re part of the illegal scene, they may know something.’ She shrugged. ‘They’re all pretty close and someone might just know something or have heard a rumour. As I say, a long shot.’

He nodded. It was certainly reaching, but he liked the way Sarah’s mind worked. Always had. ‘Follow your hunch. See where it leads.’ He looked up. ‘Make it a good day, everyone,’ he called round the ops room.

An assortment of ‘Good luck sirs’ came back at him, and he joined Mal as the DC punched the lift button. Jack lifted a hand in farewell to Joan and was surprised to see Sarju rushing towards the lifts, dressed for the outdoors.

‘You’re in a hurry!’ Mal said.

Sarju gave a small bow. ‘DCI Hawksworth, everyone’s got something to do except me. I wondered if perhaps I could help you?’

Jack looked doubtful. ‘Well …’

The little man continued. ‘It’s just that everyone’s busy and feeling like they’re doing something constructive towards the case. I heard you were going down to the River Lea.’ He shrugged. ‘Perhaps I could be another set of eyes? Or I could run errands. You might as well make use of me, sir.’

Jack nodded. ‘Absolutely. If you’re sure you’ve —’

‘I’m sure. Let me help, please.’

The lift doors opened. ‘After you then,’ Jack said, getting a mild waft of mothballs from the man’s suit as he moved past Jack to enter the lift. Jack noticed the suit was shiny on the shoulders too. It looked very tired, but he was glad of the interpreter’s enthusiasm. Hopefully it would rub off on all of them.

They hailed a cab with surprising ease in Victoria Street and were soon wending their way through the traffic towards Spring Hill, flanked by the River Lea at one end and Clapton Common at the other.

‘Are you Muslim?’ he asked into the comfortable silence of the car.

Both Mal and Sarju nodded.

‘Sorry, that must have sounded rude. Of course I knew about you, Mal. It’s just that you know, Sarju, we’re heading into the main Jewish quarter?’

Sarju looked surprised to have the a query thrown his way. ‘I have no problem with that, DCI Hawksworth.’

Jack felt mildly embarrassed, but in these days of political correctness it had suddenly occurred to him to check. ‘Good.’

‘The people who live round there are quite powerful, you know,’ Sarju continued. ‘I’ve lived in the Whitechapel area since I came to London a long time ago, so this region is where I play, you could
say,’ he explained. ‘I like to take walks along the Lea and my friends and I sometimes have picnics by the river.’

Jack thought Sarju made it sound rather quaint, and yet somehow he couldn’t picture the polite Bangladeshi frolicking around Stamford Park.

‘Do you have any Jewish friends?’ Jack asked him, out of curiosity.

‘No, not really. Some acquaintances and plenty of Jewish colleagues, and I have worked with some of the Hasidic people in particular. They’re not as shy and retiring as you might think.’

Jack looked back at him quizzically. ‘What do you mean?’

‘Well, they seem very quiet but that’s because they’re insular. The truth is, they possess strength in those numbers. They are peaceful, law-abiding citizens, don’t get me wrong, but they cling to their own ways. While they appear shy to you, within the community those same quiet men may be considered very powerful, with strong influence over their peers and the younger members. Malik, your people are from Pakistan, right?’ Malik nodded. ‘I’m from Bangladesh. I have friends from all over Asia; I have European friends, British friends, even an Australian.’ He shrugged. ‘My point is that we are Muslim but we are integrated into the broad fabric of society. You will find that a lot of the Hasidic Jews who live around here are not. They keep very much to themselves. They inter-marry and they preserve their ways, their lifestyle, very closely without diluting it through television, newspapers, radio, the internet.’