did find this.’ She held up a sheet of paper. From what Donovan could see, it looked like an email, with a paragraph of tightly spaced, strange-looking black type below the address. ‘This was sent to Logan’s Mac account just over a week ago,’ Downes said. ‘The address is a bit odd for starters: [email protected]. And it gets even weirder.’ She started to read:
and laughed conspiratorially as they stumbled down the steep spiral stairs together. The candlelight flickered on the bare crumbling brickwork and the gauzy spiders’ webs. She heard footsteps and voices from the others just behind. At the bottom was a heavy wrought iron gate, decorated with an ornate coat of arms. The metal was badly rusted and part of the shield fell away as she touched it. She was sure there were rats in such a place and she held on even more tightly to his arm. He was still laughing and the sound echoed around the small subterranean chamber. She suddenly wanted to whisper. A drop of icy water fell onto her bare shoulders and looking at her intently, he slowly wiped it away with his finger. The floor below was flooded with an inch or so of water and she got her feet wet as she stepped down. A giant key sat in the lock invitingly. She held up the guttering church candle and peered through the bars of the gate into the gloomy darkness beyond. A small stone altar lay immediately in front and on either side were rows of ancient coffins. The ones at the bottom sat in the water. She wondered if they would float if the water rose some more. ‘Have some more wine, my pretty,’ he said, filling her glass to the brim. ‘I like the way it
‘It stops there, in mid sentence. There’s no beginning or end. No greeting, or anything.’ Downes looked from one face to another and shrugged. ‘Given where Logan’s body was found, I thought it was worth mentioning.’
‘He was a writer,’ Minderedes said.
‘Are you saying he had second sight?’ Downes replied sharply. ‘It mentions a crypt.’
Minderedes shook his head sceptically. ‘Looks like a piece from a book. Must be something he wrote.’
‘And emailed himself?’
‘Sounds like part of a gothic novel,’ Donovan added.
‘More like Hammer Horror,’ Chang muttered under his breath.
‘Whatever it is, I can tell you it’s not describing the crypt at the Brompton Cemetery,’ Tartaglia said. ‘Although, I agree it’s a coincidence and worth looking into. Was there anything else like this amongst his things?’
‘No.’
Tartaglia turned to Wightman. ‘Get onto the techies and tell them I want the email traced, plus copies of any other emails from the same source. Anyone else have something?’
Chang raised his hand. ‘I’ve just come back from Maida Vale. I was following up on a witness statement Nick took yesterday, a man called Tim Wade, who was hanging around the boat and said he was a friend of Logan’s. Anyway, the phone number and address he gave are false. The number belongs to a traffic warden in Doncaster, who’s never heard of a Tim Wade, and there’s nobody of that name living at or anywhere near the address he gave.’
‘I remember him,’ Minderedes said. ‘He had blood on his face and shirt. He said he’d had a nosebleed.’
‘What did he look like?’ Tartaglia asked.
Minderedes narrowed his eyes. ‘Tallish bloke, about six feet, medium build, red hair. Brown eyes, I think. He was wearing jeans, a baggy blue and white striped shirt and trainers. He was very keen to know what was going on and what had happened to Logan, even though he said he didn’t know him that well. He seemed quite edgy, couldn’t stand still, and he was sweating heavily. I thought it was the heat. It all seemed a bit odd but there wasn’t a lot I could do.’
‘If the phone number and address are false, I’m betting the name is too.’ Tartaglia turned to Chang. ‘A red-haired man was seen having a drink with Logan on the boat three nights ago, the night
and laughed conspiratorially as they stumbled down the steep spiral stairs together. The candlelight flickered on the bare crumbling brickwork and the gauzy spiders’ webs. She heard footsteps and voices from the others just behind. At the bottom was a heavy wrought iron gate, decorated with an ornate coat of arms. The metal was badly rusted and part of the shield fell away as she touched it. She was sure there were rats in such a place and she held on even more tightly to his arm. He was still laughing and the sound echoed around the small subterranean chamber. She suddenly wanted to whisper. A drop of icy water fell onto her bare shoulders and looking at her intently, he slowly wiped it away with his finger. The floor below was flooded with an inch or so of water and she got her feet wet as she stepped down. A giant key sat in the lock invitingly. She held up the guttering church candle and peered through the bars of the gate into the gloomy darkness beyond. A small stone altar lay immediately in front and on either side were rows of ancient coffins. The ones at the bottom sat in the water. She wondered if they would float if the water rose some more. ‘Have some more wine, my pretty,’ he said, filling her glass to the brim. ‘I like the way it
‘It stops there, in mid sentence. There’s no beginning or end. No greeting, or anything.’ Downes looked from one face to another and shrugged. ‘Given where Logan’s body was found, I thought it was worth mentioning.’
‘He was a writer,’ Minderedes said.
‘Are you saying he had second sight?’ Downes replied sharply. ‘It mentions a crypt.’
Minderedes shook his head sceptically. ‘Looks like a piece from a book. Must be something he wrote.’
‘And emailed himself?’
‘Sounds like part of a gothic novel,’ Donovan added.
‘More like Hammer Horror,’ Chang muttered under his breath.
‘Whatever it is, I can tell you it’s not describing the crypt at the Brompton Cemetery,’ Tartaglia said. ‘Although, I agree it’s a coincidence and worth looking into. Was there anything else like this amongst his things?’
‘No.’
Tartaglia turned to Wightman. ‘Get onto the techies and tell them I want the email traced, plus copies of any other emails from the same source. Anyone else have something?’
Chang raised his hand. ‘I’ve just come back from Maida Vale. I was following up on a witness statement Nick took yesterday, a man called Tim Wade, who was hanging around the boat and said he was a friend of Logan’s. Anyway, the phone number and address he gave are false. The number belongs to a traffic warden in Doncaster, who’s never heard of a Tim Wade, and there’s nobody of that name living at or anywhere near the address he gave.’
‘I remember him,’ Minderedes said. ‘He had blood on his face and shirt. He said he’d had a nosebleed.’
‘What did he look like?’ Tartaglia asked.
Minderedes narrowed his eyes. ‘Tallish bloke, about six feet, medium build, red hair. Brown eyes, I think. He was wearing jeans, a baggy blue and white striped shirt and trainers. He was very keen to know what was going on and what had happened to Logan, even though he said he didn’t know him that well. He seemed quite edgy, couldn’t stand still, and he was sweating heavily. I thought it was the heat. It all seemed a bit odd but there wasn’t a lot I could do.’
‘If the phone number and address are false, I’m betting the name is too.’ Tartaglia turned to Chang. ‘A red-haired man was seen having a drink with Logan on the boat three nights ago, the night
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