Murder in Hampstead by Sabina Manea (read this if txt) 📕

The first person from the left was a woman in her late thirties or early forties, whose light attire stood out in the sea of gloomy blacks and dark greys. As the picture was magnified, they were able to make out a dark butterfly-shaped brooch on her lapel. Though forty years younger, the face was unmistakably that of the woman known as Professor Alla Kiseleva – the almond-shaped eyes framed by a wavy bob, the high cheekbones, the faintly disdainful expression on her lips. It matched the photo on the unmarked file that Nina had dug up. Lucia sat back and shuddered at the magnitude of their discovery.

‘Tell me I’m not hallucinating. It’s her, isn’t it?’ said Carliss, as if he no longer trusted his own judgement.

‘It’s definitely her,’ muttered Nina.

‘If the Professor is Olga Galina, did Emilia know that her employer nearly became her adoptive mother? And if Emilia did know, was that worth killing for?’ wondered Lucia out loud.

‘It certainly was, Lulu. The conditions in those Belarus orphanages were infernal – starving children confined to their cots, widespread abuse…’ Nina stopped, unable to continue, and her eyes welled up.

‘You were there?’ asked Carliss in amazement.

‘Yes, as an exchange student – unfortunately, nothing has changed for those poor things since the 1980s. That sort of start to her life, it can’t but leave marks.’ Nina emptied her glass and started clearing the debris that had accumulated around them.

Lucia pictured Emilia’s implacable face, her cold detachment – it all made sense. In the whirlwind of the revelation, they had forgotten one thing. ‘If Adam had the doll, he could have found Emilia out, confronted her perhaps. He needed to be eliminated.’ She knew full well what the stumbling block would be.

The policeman, despite his exhaustion, didn’t wait long to point it out. ‘We’re back to the same problem we’ve had before – plenty of motive, not a shred of solid evidence.’

‘There has to be something,’ reasoned Lucia. ‘She must have gone wrong somewhere, like she did with the champagne coupe. Oh, that was brilliant – though the execution wasn’t quite perfect.’ She racked her brains. ‘What else was taken into evidence when your people first searched Beatrice Hall?’

‘You mean, after the Professor’s… after Olga’s death? Oh, I don’t even know what to call the woman anymore.’ He frowned. ‘The crockery and cutlery used for the party. I released them soon after they tested negative for poison – there’s only so long we can keep rotting food before it becomes a health and safety hazard.’ He rubbed his reddened eyes. ‘Oh, and the tin of 1080, obviously.’

Lucia perked up. ‘Did they find anything on the tin?’

‘Nothing of interest, otherwise we would have known. Only the housekeeper’s fingerprints, from whenever she used it last.’

‘We need to look at it again. If any physical evidence was left behind, that’s where it’ll be.’ Lucia rose to her feet with fresh determination. She was too tired to remember that it was now the middle of the night.

‘Well, it’s not going to happen now, that’s for sure. We can go down to the station nice and early in the morning, but I think we’re clutching at straws. Everything has been processed within an inch of its life,’ replied Carliss.

‘Let’s go to bed. You can sleep here if you like, Inspector, or I can call you a cab.’

‘Thanks, Nina, I’ll head home. I could do with a hot shower before I face tomorrow’s entertainment.’ He stood up wearily.

Lucia didn’t want to think what would happen if there was nothing to be found in the evidence room. Two unexplained deaths, no arrests and a cunning killer who may well get away unscathed. That wasn’t good police work.

Chapter 33

Being a Saturday, Kentish Town Station was conveniently understaffed. The inspector escorted Lucia and Nina into his office and ordered them to stay put. It didn’t take long to dig out the tin of sodium fluoroacetate, which he deposited on his desk.

‘Here it is. Put some gloves on first.’ He gestured to a box next to his computer.

Lucia lifted the tin up to the light and looked carefully all the way around the outside. The metal rim at the bottom had rusted slightly – it had probably been sitting in a damp patch when it used to live under the kitchen sink. She edged the lid open with her fingernails and looked inside. The tin was around two-thirds full. So far, so disappointing.

‘Have you got a torch?’

The detective dutifully opened a drawer and fished one out.

The bright light bounced off the interior walls of the tin, until it focused on a spot that broke the otherwise uninterrupted stretch of shiny silver metal.

‘What do you think this is?’ Lucia said to the policeman.

Carliss peered in. ‘I can’t tell. Looks like a tiny smudge.’

‘Was it mentioned in the report?’

‘I can’t remember off the top of my head. I’ll have to check.’ He sat down at his computer, tapping away until he pulled up the document. ‘Here it is. Description of the tin, contents, prints… No mention of a smudge.’

Lucia’s heart was pounding in her chest. She couldn’t allow herself to believe they might have made a breakthrough at last. ‘Can you send the tin back for testing?’

‘Yes, I suppose I’d better. Strange that they missed it. However, there was no reason to pay much attention to the inside of the tin, beyond testing the contents. All the prints were on the outside, as you would expect. We won’t know before Monday at the earliest. I exhausted all my goodwill when I pushed for Adam’s overnight PM.’

‘In that case, I suggest we all go home and sleep it off,’ said Nina. ‘We’re of no use to anyone in this state.’

Lucia knew she was right – they needed a break. Nina dragged