Sacred Geometry: Kate Gardener Mysteries, #7

By Gabriella Messina

As protestors fill the valley below, the architect heading-up a controversial church restoration is murdered…

For New Scotland Yard detectives Hagen and Pierce, the finger of motive points to the rowdy bunch trying to stop construction on the site… at least until a second body enters the equation. Now the detectives have two separate cases to juggle as they search for the link between them, if there is one.

Follow the Patterns…

Links are foremost on Kate Gardener's mind. As she gets closer to the heart of the decade-old murder involving the members of the posh "Cavendish Club", she realizes she may have bitten off more than she can safely chew. Constantly tailed by a pair of thugs, Kate is shaken when a violent attack nearly takes a friend's life. The sudden return of Kate's ex, and Cavendish member, Parris Devereux makes it clear that she's closer to uncovering the truth than ever before… Too close.

One thing is certain… Evil may wear many masks, but it never stays hidden for long.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Gabriella Messina
• Release date: May 14, 2019
• ISBN: 9781386264347

Gabriella Messina

Always a spinner of tales, Gabriella Messina’s journey as an author began in the realm of screenwriting. Whether writing fantasy or crime fiction, short stories or full-length novels, Ms. Messina brings a fresh point of view and a snarky wisdom to her work, exploring science, justice, faith and feeling in equal measure. In addition to her creative writing, Ms. Messina helps other authors reach their goals, designing book covers and graphics, and providing proofreading and editing services.  When not writing, she enjoys indulging in her favorite “guilty pleasures”: coffee and chocolate, watching car racing with her son, and spending too much time looking at music videos online.

Book preview

Prologue

Classy Chassis Caravan Park

Outside Shepperton

The heat had become positively ridiculous, especially for this time of year. Spring had begun as it ordinarily did, with cool, crisp mornings and evenings, and the warmth throughout the day. Then in April the heatwave began, smothering the southern half of the country in sweltering temperatures and humidity for days and days.

Fortunately for Linda Mukarjee and her two boys, a live-in maintenance position at the caravan campground meant carte blanche to use the swimming pools and facilities anytime during the week. With the morning cleaning finished, and the remaining repairs delayed until her husband Hash returned from the city in the evening, Linda had wiped her sweating brow and declared to the boys that it was most definitely time for a bathe at the pool.

Twenty minutes later, the curvaceous Linda and her sons were enjoying the cool water. She watched as the boys splashed in the sunnier half of the pool, while she floated luxuriously on an inflated raft, sipping her frosty lemonade and, for the moment at least, loving life. It wasn’t that she didn’t love her life... Sometimes she felt downright ecstatic about it, but... Linda shrugged off the whisper of melancholy that was trying to prick at her mind again. That was happening more often lately, which meant a trip to the doctor was in order to adjust her medications. She couldn’t afford to break now... A break nearly cost me everything before, and now... Linda looked at the boys splashing... Now, I have so much more to lose...

That’s when the barking started.

It was faint at first, a distant baying sound. Fleetingly, Linda thought of the fox hunts she had seen in a documentary, and whispered an innocent prayer that the poor animal got away. This was London, though, and despite the bucolic setting of the caravan park, it was still within the scope of the M25. They couldn’t actually be hunting anything, could they?

The barking grew louder and closer, and Linda was positive it was a large dog, either a hunting hound or something larger. She sat up carefully on the float and, after a quick glance at her boys, who were still splashing about, she paddled her way to the side of the pool. The security fence surrounding the pool would be adequate to keep any threat at bay, but she didn’t want to take chances. She wanted to be ready to fend the beast off if it made for the children. Damn Hash for making her watch Cujo!

Suddenly, the baying stopped, and Linda felt her adrenaline start to race. Was that a good sign? Had the dog found its home, or owner, or something to eat? She shivered at the thought of the as-yet-unseen beast eating anything, and lowered her sunglasses to look toward the wooded area nearby. Perhaps it had stopped because it saw them, and was watching...

There were very few caravans parked along that side of the park. The owner left it free for the seasonal customers, who were willing to shell out for the high pricing that those woodland plots demanded. Linda squinted, trying to focus her vision beyond the edge of the wood, hoping to catch a glimpse of it before it emerged... whatever IT was.

Moments later her questions were answered as a large dog emerged from the woods. It was trotting, if it was appropriate to say that a dog could trot, and as it came closer she could see that it was definitely a hound, though decidedly more of a courser... A deerhound, perhaps? Its hair was wiry, and its gray coloring gave it the appearance of a venerable canine, though it may have been only a few years old. It spotted her, and bayed, the sound not nearly as terrifying in the bright sunlight. Its pace increased slightly, more in eagerness than anger, and Linda felt herself relaxing.

The dog approached the fence and stopped, looking expectantly at her with a let me in, please sort of expression. Linda hesitated, her hand over the latch, ready to do so, when she froze. Around the dog’s face, and down the side of its neck, was a rust colored stain that stood out starkly against the gray of its coat. And it was wet.

Oi, mate, you alright? Linda’s first thought was for the animal, and that it somehow had been hurt. She knelt down by the fence and put her hand up, still cautious but wanting to give the dog the chance for contact if it chose. It decidedly did, and the huge dog wiggled his way up against the fence, whimpering and snuffling to beat the band. Satisfied that he wasn’t a threat, and didn’t appear to be hurt either, Linda unhooked the gate, and was nearly knocked over as the dog came in and promptly started to nuzzle her. It was clearly distressed about something, but with no injury in sight, Linda was at a loss as to what the problem was.

Mum! A dog! Linda glanced at the pool. Not surprisingly, her youngest had sniffed out the animal and was preparing to emerge from the pool to make contact. He was an animal lover in the extreme.

Stay in the pool, Tony! She looked pointedly at both boys as the eldest also started to climb out. The dog seems fine, I think he’s lost. You guys stay put until I’m sure.

But he’s just an old dog, mum! The pleading face of young Tony began to weaken her reserve, but then Linda remembered the blood... Good God, why did I think blood... Linda held up a staying hand to them, and returned her attention to the dog, keeping her voice calm and low as she spoke, even though her adrenaline had started racing again at the thought that it could very well be blood.

Hey, old boy... what happened to you? Linda murmured, stroking the dog’s head and neck. You lost, then? What have you seen? With her hand on the dog’s neck, she felt him tense before the growl started. Linda felt her own muscles tense, mentally and physically preparing for the bite that must surely be coming... but it never came. The dog wasn’t looking at her.

Linda followed the dog’s gaze back toward the woods, and the figure that stepped from amongst the trees and began jogging toward them. She thought it a jog, but it was more the stumbling run of a person no longer in complete control of their body, like a drunk person staggering upstairs. He tripped once, and Linda could see it took overwhelming focus to keep his body from continuing in the new direction toward the ground. He kept his feet, though, and kept coming toward them. The dog started growling and barking, and Linda stood, getting her face and torso as far from the teeth of the dog as possible.

As the man came closer, she could see he was as gray as the dog, and his university sweatshirt was dirty. He must have fallen to the ground several times in his travels... but... Linda’s eyes widened as the man slowed to a stop a mere ten feet from her, and stared at her with eyes that seemed to see a place beyond her, beyond her children, beyond the campground. Even before her eyes dropped, Linda knew this man was dying... and then she looked at the front of his shirt...

It was wet, and dark, but even with his arm pressed across his abdomen, she could see the hole... the gaping hole where his bellybutton might have been. Linda gasped, covering her mouth quickly to keep the scream from coming out and scaring her boys out of their wits. She could feel herself breaking, struggling to keep control as she watched the man collapse to his knees, and then fall forward. He hit the ground hard, too hard... and the sound of his skin hitting the concrete was the last straw.

Linda could hear the dog barking... and her children calling her, and crying... but she couldn’t move, she couldn’t think... all she could do is scream.

Chapter 1

It had been a long time since Detective Superintendent Douglas Hagen had walked a grid. As head of a Murder Squad unit at the Met, Hagen had a large team of detectives and uniforms to handle that when needed, and it rarely was. Generally, city criminals were a bit more courteous, leaving their victims right where they killed them, or fairly close by. The concrete jungle allowed for easy tracking of blood and footprints, but out here... Hagen paused a moment, squinting behind his dark glasses as he tipped back his fedora to look at the string of officers and forensic techs walking on either side of him. Ordinarily, spending several hours walking a grid was an ideal time for introspective thought, or for engaging in light conversation with one of his officers. Today, however, no one was in the mood. The heat was unseasonable, and becoming unbearable, making what could have been a thoughtful and invigorating experience bloody awful.

The piercing sound of a whistle reached Hagen’s ears, and he quickly left the line to hurry toward the source. He was careful to walk behind the line, stepping carefully over the ground they had already reviewed, and quickly reached the tall female constable who had signaled.

You’ve found something? Hagen asked, hoping that his desperation to get out of this bloody sun hadn’t made his voice sound too anxious.

May have, sir. The uniformed WPC smiled nervously, and pointed at a dark spot on the ground in front of her. Hagen knelt quickly.

Dried blood. Well spotted, Baines. The young officer’s nervousness disappeared, and her smile broadened.

Thank you, sir.

Hagen nodded, and began scanning the line for his sergeant. DS Pierce was already on his way, and Hagen could see that an even more vital member of the team, a hound mix that resembled a long-limbed Basset hound, was loping through the grass steps behind him, led by a stocky FSS tech in white coveralls. Hagen stood as they reached him.

Blood. It’s dried, but—

No worries, Superintendent. Toby will track it. The tech stooped, his hands on either side of the dog’s floppy jowls. Alright, mate, we need to find. He pointed down at the patch of dried blood on the ground. Scent. Scent.

Toby bent willingly enough, his nose swishing amongst the leaves and grass where the blood had fallen. His head came up and he started away from it, lowering his head to sniff in an uneven circle around the spot where they stood. The entire line was quiet, no one moving.

Toby hovered over a spot, walked away, came back. Then he moved to the right, a hard right, with his head low as he sniffed and sniffed. Abruptly, the dog let out the baying sound so characteristic of hounds, and lunged forward.

He’s got something! The tech took off after the now-running dog, with Pierce close behind.

Keep walking this grid! Hagen shouted as he took off running after them. The ground was uneven, and despite his athleticism Hagen found himself stumbling a bit in places. He saw the tech and the dog disappear into the woods up ahead, followed moments later by Pierce. When he reached the woods himself, Hagen slowed, taking the opportunity to catch his breath as he pushed aside branches and brushes to begin climbing the hill. He could hear the dog barking up ahead, and sped up his ascent. With the summit of the hill in sight, Hagen could feel his muscles starting to burn, the heat of the day and the exertion of the climb taking their toll. He reached the top, breathing deep, heavy breaths, and paused to gather himself. Have to start running again, geezer, he said to himself, and took his fedora off, swabbing his brow, then using the hat as a makeshift fan.

Toby and his tech were at the summit, the dog sniffing round and round a dark patch on the ground. Pierce, his dress shirt sticking to his back with sweat, was kneeling by the dog.

Definitely blood, sir, Pierce said, and raised his eyes to scan the plateau. He focused on a spot to the left, and jumped to his feet. Something over there!

Hagen hung back, waiting until Pierce had reached his destination before moving to join him. On the plus-side, the spot where Pierce had headed was somewhat shady, owing to the brace of massive conifers that stood at the edge of the wood there. Hagen continued to fan himself as he entered the shade, and cast a sympathetic look at the dog.

Did you bring water for him? He asked the tech, for the dog was panting furiously.

I... uh... The tech looked suitably embarrassed, and Hagen pursed his lips in disapproval.

Lord, you guys are fast! The feminine voice seemed to float on the breeze, and Hagen turned to see a bottle of cold water in front of him, and Forensic Photographer Kate Gardener holding it. She smiled, and reached in her bag for another. I brought what I could carry without taking equipment out.

Hagen glanced at the bag, which he could see was filled with another three bottles of water, as well as all her camera equipment. Good God! How’d did you get all that up here without breaking a sweat?

Oh... baby wipes, Kate replied. "I just wiped