Chapter 3
In the morning, they woke up in a very comfortable but also embarrassing position, both their suits crumpled.
Sykes watched them. He sure was already hungry.
"Do you want to shower first?", Jones asked.
"What about ... you go first and meanwhile I get some bread. The one I have is not enough for both of us. I forgot to get some last evening."
"Ok, Sir."
And Barnaby left, remembering that he forgot to call Sarah again.
"You brought me donuts!", Jones cheered.
"Yes, I had the feeling, you liked them."
"Thank you, Sir", he said, already taking a huge bite out of one of them.
"I can't believe you are actually eating those. You almost got killed by one. This was supposed to be some kind of joke and I wanted to feed them to Sykes.", Barnaby reluctantly said, watching his Sergeant eating.
"Well, I'm sorry to disappoint you, Sir. But those are delicious. You got them from my favourite bakery in Causton, didn't you?"
" ... Maybe."
Then there was an awkward silence, which was finally ended by Barnabys phone ringing.
"Jones, grab the keys! There has been another murder."
The crime scene was deep in the woods. There were two corpses of young brown haired girls with cuts and bruises all over them.
"Perhaps it is some kind of witchhunt, but just for brown haired girls.", Jones said.
But Barnaby didn't answer, because he saw something between the trees.
He carefully stepped closer and finally had view of two dead deers, killed the same way as the girls.
"So it does have something to do with the animals!", Ben said.
Barnaby turned back and looked him in the eyes. "Also we have a serial killer. I guess it is official, now."
They were silent for a minute or two, until the coroner had finished his work for the moment. He said: "Time of death is between 5 and 8 am. No drugs or alcohol. They died of inner bleeding, if I had to guess. I can tell you more later."
Then the coroner watched Jones and Barnaby nodding at each other before he asked: "Are you guys both wearing the same things as yesterday?"
The detectives froze.
"No. No, we're not.", Barnaby just said and walked away.
"You are not the fashion-police!", Jones stuttered, then followed him quickly.
They got into the car and drove off.
"I thought you've brought some things to change.", Barnaby whispered.
"Yes, I did. But I forgot. What about you, Sir?"
"I forgot too of course. What did you think, I would answer?"
"What did YOU think I would answer?"
"I didn't - AHH! WHATCH OUT!", Barnaby screamed.
He grabbed the wheel too, while Jones hit the breaks.
They didn't hit the Truck racing directly at them. But they didn't hit a tree eather.
They came to a hold in a cornfield.
"That was pure, stupid luck. Are you ok Sir?", Jones asked, still holding his breath.
"I'm fine. Are you hurt?"
"No, I'm not. But someone is definitely trying to kill me."
"Or us. Did you see his face?"
"He was wearing sunglasses and a big hat. I wouldn't recognize him, if I met him again. I'm not even sure if it really was a man."
"You'll recognise him when he comes back and tries again.", Barnaby said bitterly.
"Don't say that."
"Are you crying?"
"No, I'm not. Lets get out of here and call for help."
After Jones ended his phonecall, they just sat down a few feet away from the car, behind some trees, so you couldn't see them from the street, and waited.
"Lucky us, you always drive much too slow, when you have to concentrate on fighting with me.", Barnaby said after a while and chuckled.
"I'm sorry, Sir."
"Don't say that. It saved us."
"I'm sorry, that I've brought you into danger." Jones ran his hand through his hair and sighed helplessly.
"It's not your fault, Ben."
"We don't know that yet. Maybe it really was my fault."
"I can't imagine that. Don't worry. We'll find out who it is."
They spent the rest of the day at the station, searching through old cases, making lists of Ben's enemies and talking about what they had to do next, until the coroner called, because the girls were identified.
Judy and Jacqueline King.
Talking to the victims' loved ones always and undoubtedly has been the hardest part of the job.
"I'm so sorry to ask you that, Mrs. King, but where were you yesterday between 5 and 8 am?"
"I understand, that you have to do that. I was at work. At this time of the year I'm working long hours.
I'm a piano-teacher.", she whispered between sobs.
"What about the day before that?"
"Why are you asking that? I was working too. Giving private lessons."
"There are four other dead girls. Do you know, if your twins had any contact to Wendy Miller, Yasmin Thompson, Susan Dunkin or Annabell Adams?"
"No, I don't think so. Were they in their class?"
Barnaby sighed. "No, they weren't even at their school."
"May I go home now? I have to tell my mother."
"Of course. We will call you, if we have more questions. Good bye."
"Bye."
After the woman had left the room, Barnaby looked at Jones. "What do you think, Ben?"
"When you asked her for her alibis, she didn't get upset or asked back if we 'accused her of murder', like literally everyone else we ever questioned did."
"It was the same with the other parents. It is suspicious. Isn't it?"
"Yes, it is. But has it something to do with the girls? It could be anything else illegal. Just something you don't say, when you are in a police station."
"They do know each other. At least the parents."
"Six murders in three days... It's disgusting."
"I think we should call it a day. Let's go home and have dinner.", Barnaby said after a few minutes of them just staring at the dokuments on their desks.
"I always imagined you cooking more ... British food.", Jones said, when they sat in front of the TV, eating Spaghetti.
"Do you often imagine me cooking?"
Ben coughed, which made Barnaby laugh.
After getting home they had checked every window and every door twice, if they were closed properly. Now they sat on the couch, their guns on the table in front of them.
"Don't worry. Sykes barks, when there are strangers outside. Or cats. Or cars. And sometimes birds."
"I'm ok. Honestly.", Ben said, still staring at the TV.
This night, Jones couldn't find any sleep. He turned the TV off, after Barnaby had closed his eyes and started to breath slowly and steadily. Jones watched him for a while, but just before he could decide to go to the guest room, Barnaby laid his arms around him and he decided, that he didn't want to be rude and wake the detective chief inspector.
So he just sat there, staring into the darkness, thinking about what the hell went wrong in his life.