Page 30 of The Scene of the Crime (Jessica Russell #1)
He had a hot bath, which made him feel a little better, though getting in and out was agonising. Feeling hungry, he ordered some food, then turned on the TV to watch the six o’clock news. To his surprise, there was still no mention of Johan De Klerk’s murder in the headlines.
The doorbell rang, Wheeler went to the door, picking up a knife from the kitchen along the way.
Looking through the spy hole, he saw a man wearing a black coat and a crash helmet.
Thinking the man might be about to kick the door in, Wheeler gripped the knife more tightly and took several steps backwards.
After a few seconds, the doorbell rang again and Wheeler looked through the spy hole.
Now he could see the ‘China Moon’ label on the carrier bag the man was holding and breathed a sigh of relief.
Wheeler opened the door, handed the man a twenty- pound note, grabbed the carrier bag, told him to keep the change and quickly closed the door.
He turned up the volume on the TV so he could hear it in the kitchen and scooped the spareribs, sweet and sour pork and egg fried rice onto a plate.
He sat on the sofa, gnawing on a spare rib, and continued watching the news.
When it got to the weather with no mention of De Klerk’s murder, he thought maybe it just wasn’t a big enough story for the national news.
As the London regional news began, the presenter started talking about a burglary in Hackney, during which the male occupant of the premises had been stabbed.
They showed a house with a police constable standing by the door, and a reporter speaking to camera.
‘Between one and two a.m. on Monday, the house behind me was broken into. The owner, Johan De Klerk, was severely beaten and stabbed multiple times. He was found in the kitchen by police and taken to Hackney Hospital, where he underwent emergency surgery. Currently, he is in intensive care, and his condition is described as serious but stable. His wife, Michelle Belsham KC, was not at the house when the assault occurred but has been informed. Police suspect that a distinctive Rolex watch may have been stolen and are asking the public for any information . . .’
Wheeler nearly choked on the pork ball he had just stuffed in his mouth.
De Klerk was still alive. Which meant not only a greater likelihood he could end up in prison again, but his own life was now in serious danger.
And that meant a change of plan was necessary.
He picked up the mini angle grinder and switched it on, almost blinding himself with the sparks.
Easing the box open, he took out a black velvet pouch, pulled the drawstrings and tipped out the contents.
He didn’t at first realise what he was looking at, but it slowly dawned on him that he’d hit the jackpot again.
Wheeler looked at his watch, picked up his personal phone and used it to book a one-way, 9 a.m. business class flight with Emirates Airways to Dubai on Wednesday morning, costing two thousand eight hundred pounds.
He used his credit card to pay, but didn’t care about the cost as he had no intention of paying the bill.
Next, he ordered an Uber to pick him up at midnight and take him to Heathrow.
Although he’d have to wait eight hours for the flight, he’d feel safer there and, once through check-in, could relax in the business class lounge before the flight.
Having packed his bags, he poured himself a whisky and sat down on the sofa.
He had been so focused on making plans that he hadn’t noticed the pain in his ribs, but now he did.
He thought about taking some more cocaine but chose painkillers instead, as he needed a clear head to execute the next part of his escape plan.
He looked at his watch. It was 8 p.m. Wearing gloves, Wheeler used a cloth to wipe any fingerprints off the Rolex watch, lockbox and burner phone he’d been given.
He then placed the watch and two thousand pounds cash in a small zip bag and put them in the front pocket of his rucksack, along with the lockbox and his zipper case of lock picks.
Next, he went to the kitchen, removed a black bin bag containing clothing from under his sink and stuffed it in the rucksack.
He was all set.
*?*?*
The choice of pub had proved to be a good one, and Jessica was pleased with the way the new team seemed to be gelling, but after such an intensive day, she was glad when she finally got home.
Looking at her phone, she saw a text message from Dawn Owens saying Michelle was happy to give her statement tomorrow and that Dawn had arranged for them to meet her at the hospital between 9.
30 and 10 a.m. Jessica texted back that she would be there.
David, as usual, was in his bedroom, but she didn’t disturb him.
Changing into a T-shirt and tracksuit bottoms, she went to the kitchen and was pleasantly surprised to see David had left her a bowl of chicken curry and rice he had cooked earlier.
She checked the dishwasher; as expected, he hadn’t rinsed anything or filled it correctly.
She wondered if he sometimes did it deliberately to annoy her as she removed the offending items, rinsed and replaced them in the dishwasher.
She put the curry in the microwave and two small garlic naan breads in the toaster.
While eating her meal, David walked in. ‘Thanks for the curry. It’s delicious,’ she said.
‘Glad you like it,’ he said. ‘That investigation you’re on. Is the victim Johan De Klerk and his wife’s a lawyer?’
She was taken aback, wondering how David knew this. ‘Have you been going through my stuff?’ she asked, glaring at him.
He stiffened. ‘Yeah, I cracked your iPad code. The guy was stabbed multiple times, found in his kitchen and rushed to hospital. Whoever did it also stole his Rolex watch.’
Jessica kicked her chair back and stood up. ‘How dare you! That information is highly confidential. Have you shot your mouth off at work . . . because if you have, I could be in serious trouble and out of a job.’
David was taken aback by how angry she was. He hadn’t seen her react like that in years. He sighed. ‘It was on the local news earlier. If you don’t believe me, watch it on catch-up.’ He picked up the remote, tossed it onto the table and walked off to his bedroom.
Jessica turned on iPlayer, brought up the six o’clock news and fast-forwarded to the London news.
She continued eating her meal while listening to the presenter talk briefly about the crime before a reporter outside De Klerk’s house gave further details.
The picture then cut to Commander Williams standing outside New Scotland Yard by the famous rotating sign.
Just behind her was a glum-looking DCI Anderson.
‘We withheld releasing information about this horrific crime so as not to impede the investigation while pursuing significant leads. Detective Chief Inspector Anderson is leading the investigation. If anyone has any information, please contact him or his team at the Barking Homicide and Serious Crime Unit. You can also contact Crime Stoppers online or by phone. The details are on your screen, and all information will be treated as confidential. We are committed to keeping the public safe, and we will bring the person responsible for this heinous crime to justice at the earliest opportunity.’
A flurry of journalists’ questions followed. Williams started to walk away, but when a question was asked about Michelle Belsham, she turned sharply and glared at the cameras.
‘Johan De Klerk is in a critical condition and may not survive his injuries. I cannot begin to imagine the emotional distress Michelle, his wife, must be suffering. I’m sure at this time, she wants to be by her husband’s side, so I would kindly ask you all to leave her alone and just let your thoughts and prayers be with them . . . not your cameras and microphones!’
There were no more questions as Williams walked back into Scotland Yard, quickly followed by a sheepish-looking Anderson.
Jessica got up and knocked on David’s bedroom door. ‘Sorry, I overreacted. I know you would never look at my things,’ she said.
He shrugged. ‘Forget about it. I shouldn’t have been so flippant. You must be under a lot of pressure. That Commander woman on the TV was feisty, though. She put the press right in their place.’
‘Commander Williams is definitely not someone you’d want to mess with,’ Jessica agreed. ‘The odd thing is though, this morning, she was dead against releasing those details to the press. I can’t fathom out why she suddenly changed her mind.’
‘Maybe that bloke who was standing behind her did,’ David suggested.
‘That’s DCI Anderson. She’s not his biggest fan. He wanted to do a full press release, but she refused.’
‘Maybe Anderson leaked it, and then she had no choice but to go on TV.’
Jessica hesitated. ‘I can’t see Anderson being that desperate or stupid, but you’ve made a good point. It could be one of the detectives on his team.’
‘What, for money?’
‘Possibly, but some of them are not fond of Anderson, so it may have been to get back at him.’
‘From the expression on his face, he didn’t look very happy.’
‘Probably because Commander Williams tore a strip off him. If one of his detectives had contacted the press, it’s on him. I might give Chapman a call to find out exactly what happened.’
‘Who’s Chapman?’
‘He’s a detective inspector and Anderson’s deputy.’
‘Could it be him who told the press, looking to fill a dead man’s shoes?’
‘No way. He can be a bit of an oddball at times, but he’s not the type of person who would do something like that.’ She made as if to leave, pausing at the door. ‘Sorry again I sounded off at you. Are we OK?’
‘Of course, but I wouldn’t like to get on the wrong side of you – you scared the pants off me.’