“Hello, stranger!”
Philski greeted me with the same energy as always, which added to my surprise. I had no idea why he was visiting me, or from where he was pulling that energy, but he went on.
“I got a bottle of red and I wanted to catch up properly. After this horrible day, nothing like two friends having a drink and talking about stuff. Unless you have plans? I don’t want to impose.”
“No, don’t worry. I just had a long bath, was planning on getting something to eat and drowning in the couch in front of the TV, so you are a big upgrade to my evening.”
“Are you sure dear? Ok, well, if you insist…”
We both laughed. He made his way in, I opened the bottle and served two glasses. I got some packs of crisps and nuts I had in the cupboard and served them in a nice little bowl. He had already made himself comfortable on the couch, and started speaking even before I sat down.
“So, how are you? What happened after the academy? Gosh, it’s been what? Three years now? They grow up so fast! I must add: I did not expect you to stay in Brighton!”
“Three years, I think we’re close to four now. Time flies when you’re having fun, isn’t that what they say?”
“I, for one, was shocked when I heard that you were here. I don’t think I ever met someone with such strong feelings against a place. I’m pretty sure you once said that you’d rather quit than stay in Brighton. What happened?”
“Hildegard happened, I guess. A murder happened literally on my second day in town, and I ended up helping her solve it. Ever since, she offered me a job and I accepted. We have investigated a few other cases together, and I also learned to appreciate Brighton - especially when I spent my first summer here. The city just comes alive. And you, how did you end up here?”
“Oh, you know, politics, this and that, boring bureaucratic stuff. Your life is much more exciting than mine. You are working with the best detective in the country, and I’ve been dying to ask: what is her secret? Why is she so damn good?”
“I don’t know, I don’t think there is any secret.”
“Oh, come on, you must have some insider intel.”
“I guess she is thorough, and she never takes anything for granted? Even the tiniest, stupidest idea, she always considers every hypothesis, every lead. It takes time, and I think it helps that she’s not under pressure to make arrests and respond to public pressure, like the police.”
“Makes sense. But the police, they have so many more resources in their hands. You should consider coming back. You would be a great asset, and knowing the right people, your career would go up like a rocket. I mean, look at this business with the postcard. I don’t understand why they would write to Mrs Hildegard and not to us. Unless there is something else that we don’t know about?”
I wasn’t sure how I should answer that question. I thought about my chat with Hildegard about an hour back, where she told me about investigating the death of the victim’s parents, and her advice to be careful with the detective. I also didn’t want to look like I was hesitating, as this might give the idea that I was trying to hide something, so I had to make a decision in a split second. As always, my mouth spoke before my mind could make a decision.
“No, nothing else that I can think of. It’s still very early on, we are all in the dark. Hopefully we will get more when you guys have the reports next week.”
In the end, my gut feeling decided to trust Hildegard. Philski looked slightly annoyed for a couple of seconds, but smiled again and got up.
“Well, it’s Friday, it’s been a long day, I don’t want to impose more than I did. I’ll give you some peace and let you finish that bottle on your own. But hey, this has been great! Let’s do a proper catch up one of these days, shall we? Let me know when you have some time.”
And he walked towards the door. I asked him if he was sure if he didn’t want to stay longer, he politely refused, thanked me and left. I thought about messaging Hildegard about it, but I would see her in a couple of days, so I was sure this could wait. At that moment, I wanted to enjoy my well deserved food and TV moment.
I spent the rest of the weekend quiet at home: Autumn was showing its face in the form of a light drizzle and a big temperature plunge. It was the perfect weekend to stay in, do some chores, watch movies and get up to date with my reading. I was still feeling very lazy Sunday afternoon, and I had to gather the strength to go out in the rain for dinner at Hildegard and Jill’s. It was a fifteen minute walk downhill from me, and thankfully the wind was not very strong that day. I was nevertheless drenched when I rang the bell at their flat.
Jill opened the door and immediately told me to take off my coat and my shoes, as she would give me something dry and cosy to wear. She told me that she was making a root vegetable casserole to celebrate the arrival of the fall, and I suddenly felt happy with my decision to face the rain - Jill was an excellent cook. Hildegard was sitting on the couch by the living room, with a cup of tea in her hand. She was not wearing a pantsuit, just trousers and a t-shirt. She smiled when I came in, got up and gave me a hug. I started spilling the beans already mid-hug.
“You will never guess who showed up at my place Friday evening for a catch up, with a bottle of red in his hand: Philski!”
“Ah, this is most interesting. Did he really want to catch up?”
“It was odd. He started asking about me, how did I end up staying in Brighton, we talked a little, I asked how did he end up coming to Brighton, he did not really answer. Then he asked about working with you, what is your secret for being so good, and if there was something else about this case that we knew. I didn’t want to tell him about how you investigated the deaths of Johnny’s parents, and I thought about what you said, about being careful with him, so I told him there was nothing else. He then changed his mind about the ‘catch up’ and left.”
“Very interesting indeed, but I disagree with you. I don’t think it’s odd. Detective Debowski is a very clever officer, he knows how to get what he wants. I don’t believe he would do something illegal, or unethical. But he can be very charming and extremely persuasive. One never knows where one stands with him. You think he is your friend, he likes you, but maybe he just needs you? I’m rather careful with people like that, and I think you should as well. But I told you this already.”
“You did, but now it makes a bit more sense to me.”
“I just don’t want you to get disappointed, that’s all.”
Even though I knew that she did not mean it, I felt a bit patronised at that moment. It was as if she didn’t think I was smart enough to tell when someone was being deceitful to me. I decided to change the subject, to avoid staying in this topic.
“So, what is the story of Johnny’s parents?”
“Oh yes, Oliver and Beverly Smith, I remember this one very well. They moved to Brighton when she decided to go to university, she didn’t have a chance to do it until their kid, little Johnny, was a bit older. Whilst in uni, she started working on a new algorithm for artificial intelligence applied to enforcement, a technology that would one day lead to surveillance and speed cameras we see everywhere. There were a few people working with that at the time, and she had a breakthrough. Oliver was a business graduate, so together they built a company that licensed her technology to the government. By the time of the accident, the company was well established and, if I am not mistaken, the largest employer in the south east. After a while, they sold the business to a multinational enterprise and became millionaires almost overnight.”
“That is fascinating!”
“Yes, absolutely. With all that money and newfound free time, they decided to take a break and enjoy their family time. The accident happened on a sunny Saturday in June, when the days were getting warmer. Well, in the evening of that day. They drove all the way to Dover and back, stopping in the small towns as they returned. They spent the afternoon in Bexhill, Ollie had been raised there. They returned in the evening, and decided to take the road through Beachy Head, to have one last look at the bay. It was a beautiful cloudless evening, first day of the full moon. Ollie was driving, and he lost control of the vehicle, so they plunged from the top of the cliffs into the sea. The car was completely wrecked, and there was no hope for any survivors. Besides, it was not an area with ease of access. When they finally managed to get there, they found little Johnny at the shore. They say that he only survived because the tide was low when the accident happened - the water goes all the way to the cliffs on high tide. He would have drowned.”
“Gosh, this is horrible! Did they ever find the cause?”
“The car was too damaged to be properly inspected, we couldn’t find any evidence that it had been tampered with, but we also could not find any evidence that it hadn’t. There was a big rumour that Ollie was a big drinker, and that unfortunately turned out to be true. His blood levels were five times above the legal limit for alcohol. In the end, the death was ruled as accidental due to drunk driving.”
“Did anyone know that he had a drinking issue?”
“There were all sorts of rumours back then, especially right after the accident. Every day the investigation team heard something new - people claiming that Beverly stole the idea for the algorithm from them, extramarital affairs with and without children, tax evasion, people who had been scammed… You name it, we heard it. I believe I once heard that they were leaders of a cult. Ultimately, everyone wanted a piece of the pie. And it was a big pie, all left for little Johnny. He was underage at the time, so his cousin was appointed to administer everything, and I am not sure what happened next. Of course, now we know that she is still the one taking care of it.”
“And what about the rumours?”
“At the end, all the rumours turned out to be, well, rumours.”
“Do you think that the person who sent you the postcard chose you for that reason?”
“I have been thinking about this since I found out who the victim was. It’s a possibility, and it will be very interesting if that is the case. It would make sense on one side, but on the other, it would make no sense at all.”
“How so?”
At that moment, Jill entered the living room. With her, came the intoxicating smell of comfort food. She looked relaxed, and her words were spoken in a joking tone.
“OK you two, enough shop talk. It’s Sunday, for crying out loud! Come on, food is ready.”
“You heard the missus, time to eat.”
I didn’t even try to protest it, part of it as I knew I had no chance of winning this argument, part of it because I was looking forward to dinner. The food was delicious as always, almost enough to make me grateful the summer was drawing to a close. We had a lovely chat about various topics, and after a few glasses of wine I was ready to get some sleep, so I ordered a ride in one of the applications on my phone and went home. We made no plans of meeting the next day, as we were waiting for the detective to call us in when he had an update.
That call did not come until about noon on that Monday, when the assistant detective asked me to come into the police station for a briefing at three PM. She said she would also inform Hildegard about it. A few minutes later, I received a text from Hildegard saying that she would not be able to make it, and asking if I could go in and get all the details. I agreed to it and at around five minutes to three I was entering the station.
Alana, the assistant detective, welcomed me in and informed me that the detective was also unavailable this afternoon, but doctor Parkheet would be in shortly to conduct the briefing. She said she was also aware that Hildegard would not be present. A few minutes later, the doctor arrived, greeted me, and started the briefing. His tone was his usual, reminding me of someone presenting a keynote.
“Ok, let’s start with the toxicology report: the victim has consumed alcohol, but the main cause of death was an overdose of heroin - but, oddly enough, marks in the victim’s trachea indicate that the heroin was consumed via inhalation. Heroin is usually smoked or injected, which makes us think this might have been a Pulp Fiction situation. Have you watched Pulp Fiction?”
He was looking at me, but I could see the assistant shaking her head in a negative way. I answered him promptly.
“Yes, a long time ago. If I remember it right, someone confuses heroin with cocaine?”
“Exactly. In this case, we found no sign of cocaine in the blood. Anyway, heroin is very potent, and when ingested, triggered a reaction that was made worse due to the amount of alcohol ingested. They are both central nervous system depressants, which in this case led to the gradual shut down of vital organs. The time of death is estimated to have happened between a quarter past one and ten past two AM. That said, the death was not likely instantaneous, but slow and painless. Imagine someone who went to sleep, and slept so deeply that their body stopped gradually. If he would have received emergency care, he would likely have survived. And this leads us to some very interesting hypotheses.”
“The person who killed them did not need to be there at the exact time of death?”
“Yes, exactly. To be fair, they did not need to do anything apart from handing the heroin to the victim. He was the one who took it - I mean, unless the killer forced him to take it? I don’t know, it seems far-fetched. Now, to get back to your point, they did not need to stay there, but if they left, they could risk that someone would find him and call the emergency service, which could have saved his life. It seems risky to stay and make sure he died. It’s all a bit contradictory.”
“Which one do you think is more likely?”
“I don’t really understand this case, and I’m not a detective. If it wasn’t for this postcard, I would have thought this to be an accidental self-inflicted death. The guy had too much to drink, got a bag of heroin thinking it was cocaine, inhaled it and passed out, nobody found him with enough time to get help. It’s the only thing that makes perfect sense, where all the pieces fit.”
“Was there anything else, any fingerprints?”
“No fingerprints or biological material of any kind in the postcard, but we did find traces of heroin on it. Apart from that, he was found in the middle of the street - It’s a forensic nightmare. You can find everything, from everybody. We could not identify anything that would indicate prominent material from one individual specifically. He could have been on his own, he could have been with a group of ten people.”
“Did you find anything else about the postcard?”
“Not really. As I expected, it is a very generic kind of postcard, sold basically everywhere in Brighton. It wouldn’t even be like looking for a needle in the haystack, we would be looking for a haystack to start with.”
“What about the original postcard, the one with the message?”
“We had tons of forensic analysis done there, and there was nothing of interest. We could go really deep if we wanted, like identifying which brand of printer was used, but that would take time and money, and the detective does not think it would lead anywhere. Which I agree.”
“Is there anything else we can hope for?”
“Not really. From the forensic side, this is as good as it gets. But I will of course keep you updated in case something else comes up.”
I thanked him and we both left. I only saw Hildegard the following day, at her office, and I related to her everything that the doctor told me. He also handed me a printed document, with all the technical information as well as the things he told me. She listened attentively and read the document a few times. She then put it aside and left. A few minutes later, she came back with two cups of coffee.
“What do you think of this case, mate? Do you agree with the doctor?”
“Yes and no. I think it looks accidental, but we have the postcard, so we know it was not. Maybe they wanted to make it look like an accident?”
“I don’t think that’s the case. If they wanted to make it look accidental, why would they warn me? Why send the postcard? No, I don’t think they just wanted Mr Smith dead. They wanted us to know that he was killed. There’s also another question that has been hovering over my head.”
“Why him?”
“Well yes, this is one of the biggest questions we need to answer. But I am thinking about something else: why outside?”
“You mean outside his flat?”
“Yes. Why did they decide to stay outside, instead of going into the house, far away from all kinds of public view? Let’s assume that someone was there with him, someone who offered him the drug, and that they knew this person - I don’t think it was a stranger, that doesn’t fit here. Why not invite this person inside? There is nothing in the report about him being dragged out from the flat. No, let’s assume he took the drug outside. Doesn’t this seem curious to you?”
“I haven’t thought of that. Do you think this is important?”
“I think it tells us something about the killer: it was someone Mr Smith knew, but not well enough to be invited inside the house. Which would rule out what otherwise could be our main suspects - Kimberly and George Campbell.”
“Yes, they are the obvious suspects.”
“Of course, they both might have some sort of alibi, and I’m sure the detective is investigating this avenue.”
“Have you heard anything from him?”
“No. I think he is in London at the moment, but he should be back tomorrow. I’ll try to get some time with him to discuss this.”
But we were not able to see the detective until the following Friday. We both tried to get messages through to him, but we did not have much success, so we could not do anything other than wait. Hildegard would not discuss the case often, and every time I brought it up, she would tell me that there was nothing else to discuss other than what we knew. I felt that she might be avoiding the topic, maybe as it did not seem like we were any closer to solving it.
Our Friday meeting with the detective did not improve our hopes for any solution. It did not seem to bother him, though.
“We are officially treating this case as death under suspicious circumstances. The Campbells were in Brighton on the Thursday before the death, but they have solid alibis: they were staying with friends who share a cottage in Coldean, two couples, and the four people can vouch for them both. They had dinner together, played card games until eleven and went to bed, and they are sure neither Mrs nor Mr Campbell left the premises, as this would have alerted their dog. I personally don’t think that this is enough to go by, but they are prepared to testify in court.”
“Are there any other leads?”
“Not at the moment, Mrs Hildegard. But there is also not much pressure from above, if you know what I mean. Johnny was not really a noble character, his death has not raised many eyebrows. Unfortunately this is how our society works now, if you’re not rich or famous, nobody really cares. In his case, some people are not really shedding tears over it, and I heard a few people say privately that it will be one less trouble for them to investigate. Even the Campbells, they are not much interested in finding a culprit. They act like they knew this would happen. Of course, they don’t know about the postcard.”
“Do you think we should tell them?”
“I don’t know if it would make any difference. We told them about the postcard we found by the body, but they did not seem to care about it. Feels like they want to…”
I completed his phrase automatically, without thinking about it.
“...get this over and done with. Yes, that would make sense with what I heard.”
And then I told Hildegard and Philski about the conversation I heard by the seafront, on the day of the murder. They both listened with interest, but this didn’t seem to change Philski’s outlook over the situation.
“I can see why they wanted to see themselves rid of this situation. Everywhere we look, we see more and more indications that Johnny was an inconvenience that had to be dealt with. This messenger, they chose well. Anyway, without further evidence and with that alibi, there is nothing we can do about the Campbells. We will keep an eye out for this, but it seems like this might end up as a cold case.”
Hildegard spoke, but she was not looking at us. Her eyes were gazing in the distance, unfocused, and it looked like she was talking to herself more than talking to us.
“It’s a pity that this will end up under a pile of other cases. I just hope this is the end, although something tells me that there’s more to come.”
“Well, if there is anything else, the police and I will inform you, of course. Now if there is nothing else, I need to get some other stuff out of the way. Feel free to hang around if you’d like.”
And the detective left the room. We also left shortly after. On our way to town, I asked Hildegard what she meant.
“Do you think something new will come up in this investigation?”
“Oh no, I think we got everything we could get for this case. No, I was thinking about something else. Something that was written in the message: ‘I have to start somewhere.’ I am wondering if there will be any more deaths.”
The thought of more murders gave me chills, and as much as I did not want to agree, I could see her point of view. Over the next few weeks, we stayed on alert for any correspondence that would arrive indicating a new murder plan - postcards, letters. But she never received anything else. The death of Johnny Smith did not seem to make any real impact in the media - local newspapers reported it, and the BBC put a small note on its website saying that he was found dead over suspicious circumstances, but no arrests had been made, and a brief reminder of who his parents were.
We haven’t heard anything much from the detective either. The Campbells had been dealing with the estate of Johnny, and it seemed to be a very straightforward case. Philski contacted Hildegard here and there to ask if there was anything new, any further correspondence, but I haven’t heard from him directly. We also did not go into the police station, as there was nothing for us to do there, and we had other cases to tend to in the office.
September turned into October, and with it came the rain. It had been raining for the whole of the first week of October, and I felt a little depressed. The rain and cold weather was making me miss the summer months, and there was no excitement, no cases to work on. The week dragged on and when Friday finally arrived, I was looking forward to the weekend. I had made plans to visit my parents, and a trip back home would be nice to eat some good food and recharge the batteries.
It was around a quarter to three in the afternoon when Ms Hughes announced that detective Debowski was there to see Hildegard. She told her to let the detective in, and he came in shortly.
He was completely dry, despite the rain falling outside. He had a worried look on his face, and before he said anything, he handed Hildegard an envelope. She opened, read it and passed it over to me. It was a postcard, this time showing a picture of the white cliffs of the seven sisters. I turned around and there was a message printed on it, just like the one we received previously.
‘My esteemed Detective Debowski,
I assume you have been dragged into this by now. A waste of your time, if I can be honest: she’ll end up doing all the work and dazzling us all. Truth is, this is not supposed to be a big deal, so there is no need to make it so. Nature is taking its course, I am only giving it a nudge. I am just the messenger, after all. There’s no need to shoot me.
Keep an eye out for someone living at BN2 1PD.
See you on the other side,
The messenger.’
“You called it!”
The words came out of my mouth, faster than I could realise, as soon as I finished reading.
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