The Christmas Killer

A wave of revulsion swept through him as he stared down at the object that rolled out. It was a large, blood-soaked bird that was clearly dead.

James tried to swallow but couldn’t, and for several moments he just stood there while a pulse thundered in his temples.

He noticed that the bottom of the box was lined with clingfilm, presumably to hold in the blood.

‘Why the fuck would someone do this?’ he said aloud to himself.

After the shock wore off, he took a deep breath and knelt down to see if there was anything else in the upended box. But there wasn’t. However, when he stood again he spotted something attached by Sellotape to the underside of the lid. It was a Christmas card wrapped in clingfilm, and on the front of it were images from the carol The Twelve Days of Christmas.

James always carried a pair of latex gloves in his jacket pocket, so he put them on before reaching for the card, aware that he should have done so before opening the box in the first place.

He used the tips of his fingers to peel away the Sellotape and flick the card open. There was no seasonal greeting printed inside. Instead, someone had scrawled a message that caused the air to lock in James’s chest.

Here’s a Christmas gift for you, detective Walker. It’s a little early, I know, but I just couldn’t wait. My very own take on the twelve days of Christmas, complete with a dead partridge. Twelve days. Twelve murders. Twelve victims. And they all deserve what’s coming to them.

CHAPTER TWO

Annie was struggling to hold back the tears, and her insides were churning with mixed emotions. But she wasn’t at all surprised. It was how she usually reacted when she watched a primary school nativity play.

She loved seeing Mary drop baby Jesus, the narrator stumble over his or her words, and the angels giggle amongst themselves because they had no real understanding of what was going on. It was all so touching and hilarious.

But along with the joy there was always a sense of despondency and regret because none of the children on the little stage belonged to her.

The audience began to applaud as the cast rounded off their performance with a stilted rendition of Silent Night. Annie felt a jolt of jealousy when the parents started to cheer and wave, their faces glowing with obvious pride. One day, she told herself. One day I’ll be sitting amongst them instead of here on the side lines with the other teachers.

‘Are you all right, Annie? You look as though you might be about to cry.’

Annie turned to the woman sitting to her right and forced a smile.

‘I was just thinking back to when I played the part of Mary on this very stage,’ she fibbed. ‘I can’t believe it was thirty odd years ago.’

Lorna Manning smiled back. ‘I wish I’d been here then. It must have been a lot different with at least twice as many pupils and parents.’

Like many other small rural schools across the country, Kirkby Abbey Primary School was under threat because of falling pupil numbers and budget cuts. With only twenty-two children now enrolled, the council was considering closing the school, but Lorna – headmistress for the past ten years – was campaigning hard to keep it open.

If and when it did close, parents would have to transport their kids to the nearest other school, which was some fifteen miles away. It was one of the very few negatives that came with the move back to Cumbria but, as far as Annie was concerned, they were far outweighed by the positives.

She hung around as Lorna stepped up onto the stage to praise the children and thank all those who had come to see the show, especially the villagers who’d turned up to offer their support even though they weren’t parents. After that, everyone gathered in the reception area while the hall was cleared and the children got changed.

Annie hadn’t expected to get involved with school activities so soon after arriving in the village. But a staff shortage had prompted Lorna to offer her some part-time work as soon as she expressed an interest. And that suited Annie perfectly, because it meant she could divide her time between shifts at the school and renovating the house.

This was the first time since the move that she had been in the company of so many people. Some she recognised from before she left the village and moved to London thirteen years ago, others she’d met during the visits to her mother following her father’s death. But a good many of those around her she’d never seen before and she was keen to make their acquaintance.

A table had been laid with free soft drinks, mulled wine and mince pies. Annie positioned herself next to it so that she could explain to people what was on offer and introduce herself to those she didn’t know. But the first person to approach the table was Janet Dyer – her twin sons had played shepherds in the play.

‘A cracking show as always,’ Janet said, helping herself to a wine. ‘Just the right mix of chaos and confusion. I loved every minute.’

Annie laughed. ‘The twins were adorable, Janet. You must be so proud of them.’

Janet nodded. ‘I am. And I intend to do everything I can to make sure they don’t turn out to be like their shitty excuse for a father.’

It was three years since Janet’s husband Edward had left her for another woman. Annie had seen her a couple of times since then and had talked to her frequently on the phone. In the beginning, Janet had found it hard to cope and had confessed to being lonely. But eventually she had started to embrace being single again.

She was a short, thin woman, with a placid face and neat, shoulder-length, fair hair, who worked as a carer for elderly people living in Kirkby Abbey and the surrounding villages.

Annie was about to ask her what time Edward was picking the twins up in the morning, but Janet spoke first.

‘Oh, bloody hell,’ she said. ‘Here comes trouble.’

She was staring at a man and woman who were walking towards them after exiting the hall. Annie recognised them immediately and felt a stab of apprehension.

Charlie and Sonia Jenkins ran The White Hart pub and they were by far the most striking couple in the village. She was slim and in her late thirties, but looked much younger. Her husband, who Annie herself had actually had a crush on in school, was a dead ringer for Michael Bublé. The pair had been together since Sonia fell pregnant with their daughter, Maddie, at the age of seventeen.

Sonia reached them first, and she had a face like thunder.

‘I want to ask you a question,’ she said, spitting her words at Janet and filling the air between them with the smell of alcohol.

Charlie quickly came up behind his wife and placed his hands on her shoulders.

‘I thought we agreed that you wouldn’t make a scene here,’ he said.

‘That was before I saw her looking at you in the hall,’ Sonia replied. ‘I could tell what she was thinking.’

‘Really?’ Janet said, her voice dripping with sarcasm. ‘Are you able to read minds when you’re drunk then?’

Sonia clenched her jaw. ‘How dare you say that? I’m not drunk.’

Janet tutted loudly. ‘You could have fooled me, Sonia.’

Annie could barely believe what was happening. The Christmas spirit that had prevailed only moments ago was shattered as the two women glared at one another.

Charlie put an arm around his wife and tried to move her away, but she refused to budge.

‘I’m not going anywhere until I’ve heard what she’s got to say for herself,’ Sonia said.

Janet responded by rolling her eyes. ‘Then get to the point, for pity’s sake. What is it you want to ask me?’

Annie was tempted to intervene, but didn’t dare for fear of inflaming the situation. Most of the other people in the room were still oblivious to what was going on and she didn’t want that to change.

Sonia lifted her chin, squared her shoulders, and said, ‘I want to know if it’s true that you’ve been having an affair with my husband.’

Janet pulled a face. ‘No, it bloody well isn’t. Where the hell did you get that idea?’

‘You told one of the elderly folks you visit in the village,’ Sonia said. ‘He told someone who mentioned it to someone else and this morning it was passed on to me.’

‘Well it’s total rubbish,’ Janet insisted. ‘I don’t sleep with married men. Surely he’s told you it didn’t happen.’

‘Until I was blue in the face,’ Charlie said, clearly embarrassed. Then to his wife: ‘Look, Sonia, it’s either a malicious rumour or a huge misunderstanding. But whatever you think, this is not the place to talk about it.’

Sonia’s face changed in an instant, as though she was coming out of a trance. She sucked in a shaky breath and started to speak, but the words tumbled out as wet sobs.

‘Let me get you home,’ Charlie said, and this time when he ushered her towards the door, she didn’t resist.

After watching them go, Janet turned to Annie and said, ‘I can’t believe that just happened.’

Annie shook her head. ‘Me neither. Are you all right?’

‘I will be once I’ve calmed down.’

Annie noticed that she was shaking and her face had paled.

‘Is there any truth in what Sonia claimed?’ Annie asked.

‘Of course not,’ Janet replied. ‘You heard what I told her. I reckon someone is out to make mischief.’

She reached for another glass of wine and downed it in one go.

‘I’d better go and find the twins,’ she said. ‘I’ll call you tomorrow, if that’s okay.’

‘That’ll be great. You take care.’

Annie was relieved that the altercation hadn’t spiralled out of control. But it had unsettled her.

She kept her feelings to herself as she bid a fond farewell to the children and their families, then helped Lorna and the other teachers to clean up.

It was eight o’clock when she left the school and headed home. She forced herself not to think about what had happened, but she was in no doubt that it would be one of the topics of conversation when Janet came to the house tomorrow.

It was a beautiful Cumbrian night, the sky crammed with an array of bright stars. Annie’s hooded parka kept the cold at bay as she walked along the narrow streets, safe in the knowledge that she wasn’t about to be mugged, stabbed or confronted by Andrew Sullivan.

She found comfort in the fact that it was very rare for something really bad to happen in a place like Kirkby Abbey.

CHAPTER THREE

Almost two hours had passed since James had unwrapped the parcel with the dead partridge inside. The repulsive ‘gift’ and the card that had come with it were still causing his mind to race in all directions.

He just wasn’t sure what to make of it. Was it a genuine threat or someone’s idea of a sick joke?

It was troubling to think that so much thought and effort must have gone into it. The sender had either killed a bird or found a dead one, then stuffed it into the box with the card, before leaving it on the doorstep. It was strange, reckless, shocking and sinister. It couldn’t be ignored.

James had already called it in and had taken photos of the partridge and the handwritten message, which he’d sent to his superior. A patrol car was due to arrive at any minute to pick the bagged parcel up and take it to the forensic lab so it could be analysed for prints, DNA and any other trace evidence that might offer a clue as to who was responsible.

The house to the left was empty, as usual, because the owners lived in Manchester and stayed there only occasionally. The property to the right was occupied by retired couple Roy and Jennifer Gray. James had just returned from asking them if they’d seen any cars parked out front this evening or noticed anyone carrying a parcel. But they hadn’t because they’d been too busy watching television.

If this had been London or any other major city there’d be a good chance that CCTV cameras could be used to help solve the mystery. But there weren’t any in Kirkby Abbey, which was not at all unusual for such a small village.

The questions were piling up inside James’s head as he sat at the breakfast bar with his hands wrapped round a mug of steaming coffee.

How long had the parcel been lying on the doorstep? Was it put there soon after Annie left the house to go and help out with the school nativity play? If so, was it possible that she’d seen the person who’d left it?

He checked his watch again and wondered when his wife would arrive home. The play must surely have finished by now, but he supposed it was possible she was still helping to clean up or that she had gone for a drink with some of the other school staff at one of the pubs in the village.

He reached for his phone and brought up the photo of the message in the card.

Here’s a Christmas gift for you, detective Walker. It’s a little early, I know, but I just couldn’t wait. My very own take on the twelve days of Christmas, complete with a dead partridge. Twelve days. Twelve murders. Twelve victims. And they all deserve what’s coming to them.

His boss, Detective Chief Inspector Jeff Tanner, had asked James if he could think of anyone who might have embarked on a cruel mission to ruin his Christmas.

‘It would have to be someone with a twisted fucking mind and a serious grudge against you,’ Tanner had said.

There was one person who fit that description, of course.

Andrew Sullivan.

Annie arrived home just as the patrol officer was placing the bin bag containing the parcel in the boot of his marked BMW.

James watched her approach and cursed under his breath because he wished he didn’t have to tell her what was going on. But he had no choice for two reasons. Firstly, he wasn’t prepared to tell an outright lie when she asked him. And secondly, he needed to know if she had any idea who might have done it.

‘Is everything all right?’ Annie asked when she reached him, her breath steaming in the cold evening air.

James flicked his head towards the house.

‘Let’s go inside and I’ll tell you, hon,’ he said. ‘It’s freezing out here.’ He gave the officer the thumbs-up before he and Annie hurried along the short garden path and into the house. He had already cleaned up the kitchen so that she wouldn’t be confronted by the bloody mess on the floor.

He helped her off with her coat and scarf and went to make her a hot chocolate while she removed her shoes.

Then he told her what had happened while they sat facing each other across the kitchen table. He showed her the photos on his phone of the dead partridge and the message on the card. The colour drained from her face as she took it all in. When she looked up her eyes were dull with shock.

‘Please tell me that you don’t think this is anything other than a vile prank,’ she said.

He dragged in a loud breath and shook his head.

‘I can’t imagine it being anything other than that. But we have to be sure. I’m hoping that whoever did it left a fingerprint or something for the lab technicians to find.’

Annie stared at him, furrows texturing her brow.

‘My God,’ she said. ‘What if some crazed serial killer has decided to target the people of Kirkby Abbey? And us.’

‘Please don’t freak out, Annie,’ James said as he reached across the table to place his hand on hers.

But she drew it back sharply and snapped at him. ‘I’m not freaking out, and I’m not stupid either. You’ve more or less admitted that it might not be a tasteless joke. Therefore, shouldn’t you raise the alarm and warn everyone that they could be in danger? And at the same time flood the village with police officers?’

James fully appreciated where she was coming from, but he knew that the contents of the parcel wouldn’t be enough in themselves to trigger a full-blown investigation. It wasn’t uncommon for death threats to be sent via letter, parcel and email.

‘For all we know that’s exactly what the sender wants to happen,’ he said. ‘If it is just a stupid joke then the more people who get worked up about it the more successful it’ll be deemed to be. And we also need to bear in mind that if it’s not a hoax then there’s no way of knowing if the victims referred to live in this village.’

James could tell from the look on her face that she wasn’t convinced, but she decided not to pursue the subject. Instead, she remained silent, holding his gaze while gnawing at the edge of her bottom lip.

‘We’ll soon get to the bottom of it,’ he said, and tried to sound reassuring. ‘I promise you that.’

Her expression changed suddenly, as though a thought had crashed into her head.

‘Jesus Christ, James,’ she yelled. ‘What if it’s from him? What if the bastard has found us?’

CHAPTER FOUR

Annie’s reaction came as no surprise to James. Only three months had passed since the day Andrew Sullivan was released from prison and the brick was thrown through their living room window.

The move to Cumbria had made his wife feel safer, but the threat Sullivan posed still hung over their heads like a dark cloud.

James’s transfer to Kendal had been processed quickly and efficiently by the Met, and only a handful of senior officers had been made privy to why he’d requested it, to reduce the possibility that Sullivan would find out where he’d gone and pursue him.

James had hoped and prayed that the man would get on with his life and forget about seeking revenge for the time he’d spent behind bars. But if he was still determined to punish James, then he could probably use his crooked contacts in the Met to find out about their new home in Kirkby Abbey.

‘Don’t tell me it hasn’t already occurred to you that this could be down to Sullivan,’ Annie said. ‘It’s an easy way to wreck our Christmas and put the fear of God into us.’

‘Of course, it’s occurred to me,’ James said. ‘But there’s a risk of jumping to the wrong conclusion because of what’s happened in the past. I find it hard to believe that Sullivan would bother to put together something so weirdly elaborate when he doesn’t need to. It’s just not his MO, unlike the note that was attached to the brick and the threats he made to me before we collared him. It doesn’t ring true that he would talk about the twelve days of Christmas and tell me he’s about to embark on a killing spree just to seize my attention. And then there’s the partridge, which strikes me as the kind of theatrical gesture that wouldn’t occur to an oaf like Sullivan.’

Annie pushed her chair back and abruptly stood.

‘I need something stronger than hot chocolate,’ she said.

James watched her cross to the fridge and take out a bottle of white wine. Then it was to the cupboard for the glasses.

It gutted him to think that she had been hurled back onto the emotional rollercoaster. She’d had such a tough time over the past few years, starting with her inability to conceive, building with the threats from Sullivan and culminating with the brick through their window.

Since leaving London she’d been more like her old self – bubbly, confident and full of life. Physically, it was as though she’d had a makeover. She was still as gorgeous as she had always been, with those bright blue eyes, soft facial features and thick black hair that tumbled to her shoulders. But there was a glow about her now, and she appeared fitter and healthier after putting on the weight she’d lost through months of worrying. She was still slim and shapely, though, and she looked terrific in the tight brown sweater and denim jeans that clung to her frame.

The last thing James wanted was for her to be struck by another bout of despair in the run up to Christmas.

‘Let’s assume for now that it’s got nothing to do with Sullivan,’ James said. ‘Can you think of anyone living here in the village who might be of a mind to dream up something as crazy as this? Perhaps someone who isn’t happy about us moving here?’

Annie placed the wine and the glasses on the table and sat down.

‘Absolutely not,’ she said. ‘We’ve been given a warm welcome. And as far as I know we haven’t made any enemies.’

James sat back in the chair and grappled with a new batch of questions that were spinning around in his head.

What would be the next step if no forensic evidence turned up on the parcel and its contents? Would DCI Tanner expect him to pursue it by making discreet enquiries in the village? And if so, who would he approach and what would he ask them?

It was a tricky one, for sure, and he could feel his insides clenching at the thought of how it was going to play out over the days ahead.

Annie poured the wine and pushed James’s glass across the table towards him. He thanked her, then asked what time she’d left the house earlier to go to the nativity play.

‘It was around half four,’ she answered. ‘I popped home to grab a bite to eat and change. It was dark by then so I left the lights on for you.’

‘I got here just after six so the parcel was placed on the doorstep between those times,’ James said. ‘The street outside was empty when I arrived, but I suppose somebody could have been watching from the shadows.’

‘I don’t remember seeing anyone outside either,’ Annie said.

‘What about when you walked to the school? Did you pass any other people or cars heading this way?’

Annie scrunched up her brow and cast her mind back. It took her mere seconds to shake her head.

‘I only saw one other person,’ she said. ‘It was Keith Patel, who I’ve seen around the village from time to time. We passed each other on the pavement this side of the square. I said hello to him but he either didn’t hear me or chose not to respond.’

‘Didn’t you think that was odd? Or at least rude?’

‘Not really. The man has a reputation for being anti-social. Apparently, he’s been like that since his ageing mother died a year ago. Janet told me that the woman fell down her stairs but her body wasn’t discovered for a week because nobody called at the house. Patel is now living there but keeps to himself because he believes that she might have been saved if her friends and neighbours in the village had bothered to drop in on her.’

James leaned forward across the table. ‘Can you remember if the guy was carrying a box or a bag?’

‘He wasn’t carrying anything,’ Annie said. ‘I can remember that clearly. But he was pulling a shopping trolley – the kind used by elderly people. He’s not exactly old, though, probably in his fifties. I also noticed he was limping.’

‘So while you were walking away from our house, he was walking towards it? Is that right?’

Annie nodded. ‘But then, he does live down the hill opposite the stables. I’m guessing he was just going home.’

James mulled this over for a few moments, and said, ‘As a matter of interest, do you happen to know when exactly his mum died?’

Annie shrugged. ‘According to Janet, people think it was last Christmas Eve. But they can’t be absolutely sure because her body wasn’t found until New Year’s Day.’

James felt a sudden twist in his gut as he wondered if Keith Patel should become their first suspect.

CHAPTER FIVE

James spent the rest of the evening in work mode. He found it impossible to concentrate on anything other than the parcel.

He asked Annie lots of questions about the people she knew in Kirkby Abbey, and was particularly interested in the ones she’d had contact with since moving here.

Some of those she mentioned James had already been introduced to, including Lorna Manning, the school headmistress.

‘I’m confident that none of them would do such a thing,’ Annie said. ‘Lorna is my friend as well as my boss. You said yourself how nice she is. The same goes for Father Silver, who has a lot on his plate at the moment, what with his illness and the impending closure of his church. They both have their ears to the ground, so I’m sure they would have told me if someone in the village had it in for us.’