‘Lovely. Next. The cleaning.’ Tomek repeatedly tapped the pen against his chin. ‘The killer spent a long time with her body, cleaning it, shaving it, doing whatever else he did to it. That’s someone who’s composed and measured, someone who is in love with Angelica so much that they wanted to iron out all the slight blemishes, the little imperfections.’ He turned to the room. ‘Who fits the bill on that?’
Brief pause.
Rachel chose to speak. ‘Shawn Wilkins is the obvious choice.’
‘Good. And why’s that?’
‘Because he hasn’t left the woman alone since he first met her.’
‘Okay. And not Florian?’
Rachel tilted her head to the side, as if she was confused. But then the cogs in her brain began to turn, and she reconsidered. ‘I mean, he’s slight and small, and a little timid – very timid, in fact. But I don’t think… He doesn’t look like he had it in him.’
‘It’s always the ones you least expect,’ Tomek told her, adding, ‘Just something to think about. Plus, our friend the donkey also likes to paint. I had a look at some of his work on his website, and they’re very good, very realistic. Not to mention he’s got experience painting angel wings.’
Tomek moved towards the whiteboard and circled the words “cleaning” and “angel wings”, then drew two lines towards Florian’s name. The other line he drew connected “cleaning” to Shawn Wilkins.
‘Does anyone else know how to paint?’ Tomek asked.
‘I mean, I drew a forest one time when I was in school,’ Chey answered. ‘Got a C for it at GCSE, but that’s about as far as my skills go.’
‘Brilliant, congratulations. I’m sure your parents were proud. But that’s not what I meant. Let me rephrase that: do any of our suspects know how to paint?’
‘It’s not something we’ve asked them,’ Oscar replied.
‘Then make a note to follow up with them on that. And loop Micky Tatton into those questions as well; he’s a fan of art, so might know a thing or two about painting too.’
Next on the list was the church.
‘Angelica’s mum said that Angelica was christened in Park Road Church. I think that’s more than a coincidence,’ Tomek explained, then added Johnny and Roy Whitaker’s names to the board. ‘For obvious reasons, they’re the only people who could know that.’
‘Shawn Wilkins might, Sarge,’ Rachel added.
‘Possibly. But how?’
She shrugged.
‘The only way would be if she’s posted the information online somewhere, or discussed it with one of her exes. Chey? Anything on social?’
The young constable shook his head.
‘What about the blog? How are you getting on with the printing?’
‘It’s going to take me all week, but we’re getting there.’
Tomek nodded thoughtfully. He cast his gaze around the room seeing the expressions on his colleagues’ faces. There was a mixture of confusion and excitement there. The sense that they were close. That one of the people on the board was responsible for killing Angelica Whitaker. Tomek had been in the same situation many times before, looking at the evidence, looking at the witness statements and the list of potential suspects, and relying on his intuition, that little knot in his stomach, to guide him in the right direction. Before he could do anything else, the door opened, and in stepped DC Anna Kaczmarek. Her body froze as she realised she’d just interrupted. Tomek invited her in, and she took a seat.
‘Sorry…’ she said as she placed two thick folders on the table. ‘But I have an update.’
Tomek’s eyes widened. ‘Go on.’
‘It’s about Johnny Whitaker.’
Tomek pursed his lips and folded his arms.
‘Speak of the devil. You’ve got us all on tenterhooks now, Anna.’
‘I’ve just found out from his parents that he wasn’t in Dublin like he said he was,’ the family liaison officer explained.
‘Yeah, that’s right, he was with the woman he’s been having an affair with,’ Tomek elaborated, unable to hide the disappointment in his voice.
‘Wrong.’
‘Wrong?’
‘For the past eighteen months, Johnny Whitaker has been performing at the Cool Cats and Kittens drag club in Southend. He goes by the name of Johnny Bra-vo, and performs there every month, complete in drag costume, make-up, and high-heeled boots – the lot. Rose found his costume and make-up in his wardrobe the other day. When I went round to see her, she told me he hadn’t denied it when she’d confronted him about it. He lied to us, and he lied to his family about the woman from Dublin, though I should probably add that he performs in an Irish accent. Why, I’m not so sure. I didn’t ask. But there was no other woman, because he is the other woman.’
Tomek paused a beat to consider. He didn’t know much about that world, but what he did know, from stealing a couple of glances from the television screen while Kasia had been watching RuPaul’s Drag Race, was that drag acts were exceptionally good at make-up, and certainly in his daughter’s opinion, better than most women.
Tomek’s eyes fell to the last word on the board.
Make-up.
The killer was someone who knew how to professionally apply the chemicals that had confused and bewildered so many men across the world better than a woman could. Which narrowed their suspect list down drastically.
‘What was he doing at the time of the murder?’ he asked.
‘I’ve spoken with the venue, and they’ve confirmed Johnny finished his act at one in the morning,’ Anna answered.
