Blood Storm (36 page)

It was what lay on the bed which made her compress her
lips. As with Viola, Marina's severed head was placed a few
inches above her butchered neck. Again, the arms had been severed just below the elbows, the legs detached below the
knees. Everything was placed to make Marina look
like a huge doll torn to pieces.

Tweed turned to Chief Inspector Hammer who had joined the group - himself, Paula and Saafeld. Hammer seemed not
in the least disturbed by the macabre arrangement.

'Chief Inspector,' Tweed said quietly, 'would you mind
leaving us alone.'

'What for?' Hammer demanded belligerently.

'Because I have asked you to.'

'I'll go and check the living room.'

'I suggest, Chief Inspector, that you go downstairs and
check the street carefully. The murderer might have
dropped something.'

'If you insist.'

With a furious expression, Hammer left. They heard him clumping quickly down the stairs. Tweed closed the door,
turned to Saafeld.

'From the chalk lines I see on the other side of the bed I
assume the murderer used the same technique as with
Viola.'

'I think so. He threw her naked body on the floor, gave
the back of her head a hard bang to disable her. Then he raped her - or she did,' he added glancing at Paula. 'No
semen we could ever use for DNA, and she was interfered with using a device sometimes employed by women.'

'You think she was alive when he raped her?' Paula asked.

'I think it's likely she was.' He produced a transparent
evidence envelope from his bag, held it up. 'This is the gag
that was across her mouth when I arrived. But in that case
what could be the motive?'

'Jealousy,' Paula replied.

'You could be right.' He put the evidence envelope back
in his bag. 'Again he severed the arteries but this time the jet of blood released hit the mirrors, not the window.'

Paula looked again at what she'd noticed earlier. Each of
the mirrors was drenched in blood. Saafeld saw where she
was looking.

'Samples of the blood have already been taken. I doubt
they will help. It will all be Marina's, so no DNA of the
murderer.'

'What puzzles me,' said Tweed, although he thought he knew the answer, 'is that the murderer's clothes must have
been soaked in blood. He couldn't just walk out in that
state.'

'I suspect,' Saafeld said quietly, 'that as before he wore a surgeon's outfit. White coat, cap, gloves, and a face mask,
with large glasses to protect his eyes. He later took them all
off, stuffed them into a bag, maybe a large briefcase, and
walked out wearing a business suit. As soon as he could
he'd burn the lot. What he did with the meat cleaver - that
was the murder weapon, I believe, in both cases - I don't
know.'

'Suggests someone involved with the medical pro
fession?' Tweed enquired.

'Not necessarily. That's the sort of equipment you can
buy at any hospital-supply outlet. He probably visited
several buying one thing here, another thing somewhere
else.'

'But he couldn't walk in on his victim dressed like that,' Paula objected.

'He probably arrived downstairs,' Tweed suggested,
'then called up to each victim, "Be up to see you in a
minute." Then he'd change into his killing gear downstairs
before he came up.'

'That's how I see it,' Saafeld agreed.

'And again no sign of forced entry?' Tweed enquired.

'None at all. Which means the victim knew her murderer

-
was expecting him,' Saafeld emphasized.

'So he'd used the speakphone to gain entry,' Paula
remarked. 'Then he probably changed into his killing gear

- to borrow your phrase, Professor - in the alcove just inside
the front door. We ought to search that thoroughly.'

'It's been done,' Saafeld told her. 'I sent Hammer down
with a policeman he called an expert searcher. Firkins, I
think was his name. They found nothing.'

'Hammer might miss something,' Tweed observed.
'Firkins wouldn't. I know him and he's very good.'

'They must have been related,' Saafeld speculated. 'The
same name, and oddly enough very similar in appearance.'

'They were twin sisters,' Paula informed him. 'We only
learned that recently.' She made herself stare at the head
again. Almost a replica of Viola but even in death the face was harder.

'Roughly what time did this happen?' Tweed asked.

'Rigor mortis hasn't set in yet. Just an educated guess but
somewhere between midnight and 2 a.m. Subject to more accuracy after my post-mortem. This really worries me,'
Saafeld said, turning to Tweed, who had never heard him
say anything like this before.

'Why?'

'I told you about blood storm. The creature committing these crimes is likely to get the urge to strike again soon
now. You see, Viola was murdered about ten days ago. The
intervals between his overwhelming desire to kill again will
lessen considerably. His next urge to kill and mutilate could
be as little as three or four days from now. It's an
accelerating process.'

'Who found her?' Tweed wondered.

'A Mrs Gaskin, a real nosey-parker who came in late,
lives on the fourth floor. The TV was on full blast.'

'Which would drown Marina's screams as he applied the
gag. He probably turned the volume up.'

'Exactly.' Saafeld turned to Tweed. 'Paula catches on
very quickly. Well, this woman heard the TV going full blast
when she reached the third floor. The door to Marina's flat
was open, so she came in to protest that she couldn't sleep. Walked straight in here. She gabbles. Her son is a clerk at
Scotland Yard, so she called in, spoke by chance to Chief
Inspector Hammer. He had the sense to call me before he
rushed over.'

'What happened to this woman?' Paula asked.

'She was still here when I arrived. In the living room. She
was having an attack of hysteria, gabbling nonstop. I
phoned a private hospital, told them to put her in a private
room with a tough nurse. Ambulance arrived quickly, took
her away. I thought you'd want to decide the timing when
the news is released. This card gives you the hospital's address.'

'Thank you. And now I think we'd better go.'

'I agree. All the police technicians have been and gone.
I'm waiting for an ambulance with a special stretcher. I do
need this poor woman to be taken to my place with exactly
the same arrangement she is in now.'

'Arrangement,' Paula repeated on their way down the
three flights. 'Horrible word.'

They reached the ground floor and Paula asked Tweed to wait a moment. Using latex gloves and a powerful torch she
went inside the alcove. Tweed stood waiting, hoping she'd
hurry up. It was a waste of time.

When Paula emerged after only minutes she was holding
something in her gloved hand. She showed it to Tweed. It
was a locket. She shone her torch on it as she opened it. On
each side was a miniature photo of a woman. Viola on the
left, Marina on the right.

'I found it at the entrance to a mousehole, half inside.
The murderer must have dropped it when he was changing
his gear back to what he was wearing underneath.'

'I wonder how he got hold of that?'

'He stole it. As a trophy. Of his exploits. The bastard.'

They were driving back to Paula's flat in silence. Tweed eventually spoke what was on his mind.

'So, according to Saafeld we may have only three or four
days to identify the murderer before another woman is
found slaughtered. We'd better get a move on.'

30

They drove back at modest speed to Paula's flat. The streets
were silent. A light drizzle had begun to fall. Tweed was
tired out, a rare state. Paula lifted a hand to hide a yawn.
She too was on her last legs. It had been a long day with the
grim climax in Marina's flat.

Driving along the Fulham Road, Tweed turned in to the yard, stopped outside her entrance at the front. He got out
to check the inside of her place, left the key in the ignition,
something he'd never normally have done. She followed
him.

There were no lights in the flat below hers, which was
occupied by a woman Paula had assumed had gone abroad.
She was usually a night bird with her lights ablaze. She
suddenly sensed someone was behind her, caught a faint
whiff of chloroform. She sucked in a deep breath, held it. A
cloth soaked in the liquid was pressed over her face as
another arm wrapped itself round her.

Tweed was aware of nothing. A chloroform cloth was
pressed over his face and he took in the full dose, sagging as
burly arms caught him. They were dragged round the back,
shoved into the rear of a car.

Paula had absorbed a little of the chloroform, enough to
put her out of action for a short time. One man leaned in,
dragged the hands of Tweed's slumped form, pulled them
round his back, clamped on plastic handcuffs.

Paula, now vaguely aware of what was happening, held
her hands a few inches apart, in her lap.
Plastic handcuffs clamped her wrists together. She was more aware of what
was happening now. Two men's voices.

'Get in Tweed's car,' said Radek. 'The friggin' fool has
left keys in the ignition. Hide it where ours is parked.'

God! she thought. Fitch and Radek.

'No!' snarled Fitch. 'We leave our own car round the
back. It's stolen, so are the plates. It is a Ford - like
Tweed's. Take hours for anyone to think it's odd.'

'Why haul the bodies from one car to another? Get
behind the wheel, Fitch, and we'll move off now.'

'Guess you could be right. I'll drive. Throw that blanket
over 'em. Patrol cars drift round this time of night. Then we
head straight for the warehouse . . .'

At one stage during the drive, which seemed to Paula to go
on for ever, they stopped briefly in the East End while
Radek dumped both treated cloths in a rubbish bin, then
moved on.

At one convenient moment Paula stretched her cuffed
hands under the blanket to check Tweed's
neck pulse. It
was beating regularly. He was just unconscious. Eventually
the car stopped, waited while Fitch checked no one was in
the area. Returning to the car, he gave the order.