2

"I hope you don't mind," DCI Burton began as we walked to her car. "But I took the liberty in arranging the meeting at your place."

"Why?"

"Because it's safer."

"Who are we meeting?"

"You'll see."

I didn't have to wait long as within fifteen minutes of us arriving back at my home in Woodside Park, the front doorbell rang.

Sandra answered the door for me and led our guest into the lounge where I was waiting.

"DCI Burton, Mr Noone? Thank you so much for seeing me at such short notice," he said, looking across the room at my friend.

"Not at all, Mr Flynn. Would you please sit down and make yourself comfortable? May I introduce you to my friend and colleague, Quintus Noone? Who I believe was the man you wanted to see?"

We shook hands

"Mr Noone, thank you so much for seeing me. I don't know where to start; the police have made such a hash of everything, no disrespect to you, DCI Burton, and the press made it even worse. Family and friends are devastated, the funeral is the day after tomorrow, and we still don't even know the cause of death!"

"Ah, Mr Flynn," Sandra said, "you are starting in the middle. Now, take a couple of deep long breaths and try and relax, and tell us the whole story from the beginning."

"I'm sorry. We've been going through this nightmare for over a month now, and sometimes --"

"It's all right, Mr Flynn," I say. "I will try and assist you as much as I can. So, take your time, and tell us everything you think we should know."

Brian Flynn composed himself gradually before he spoke.

"For me, it starts with my cousin Anne. We have been very close for a long time. Anne married a chap named Eamon Davis, a fine fellow, and they had two daughters. Tina and Margaret." He paused for a moment before continuing. "Tina was blessed with a gift for mathematics that impressed everyone. Her teachers were amazed, but they didn't know what to do with her, or for her, perhaps I should say. So, they started sending her to Bangor University, just one day a week at first when she was 13, and she graduated with a first-class degree in maths when she was only 17 years old."

"Pretty impressive," I said, and Sandra nodded in agreement.

"She earned a PhD. from Manchester University at 19, and then she was off to Cambridge, Homerton College, and we started to think she might stay in academia for a while, maybe even become a professor. She would have made an exemplary teacher. She was so friendly, and she had a way of putting people at ease. She wasn't much for small talk, but she was a joy to listen to about things that mattered to her, something she knew well. She certainly knew what she was about when it came to maths. And she had a passion for it."

"That's nice to hear," I interjected, trying to make our visitor feel at ease.

"She had always done exceptionally well academically, so we were stunned when -- at the age of 20 -- she failed an exam and dropped out of Homerton College. We worried for her future, but she soon found a job with the government."

"What part of the government?" I ask.

"She worked for GCHQ in Cheltenham, sir, and the only thing we knew about her work was that it was secret. She said it was something to do with codes, but other than that, she said nothing else, and we could sense that it would have been rude to ask. She often travelled to the U.S. on work-related matters, but she always returned to Cheltenham." He smiled at a memory before carrying on. "Cheltenham is not far from Wales, and Tina came back home to see the family as often as she could. She loved to ride with her father, both expert cyclists, and Tina raced with the local bicycle club, too. She was an outstanding sportswoman, and she won quite a several races, especially in the hills. Oh, how she loved to ride in the mountains!"

"Was she a fitness fanatic?" I enquired.

"I would say so, yes," Flynn replies. "Anyway, late last summer, Tina moved to London for a temporary posting. We understood that she was on secondment to MI6. She said she would be back in Cheltenham when she had finished her endorsement with MI6."

"Where was she living?" I ask.

"Here in London, Tina lived in a flat at 36 Suffolk Street, in Pimlico. The government paid her rent, it was close to her work, and she was happy here, although she missed the country. She was anxious to get back to Cheltenham. But it never happened."

"And why was that, Mr Flynn." Of course, I already knew the answer, but I wanted to hear his version of events.

"We got the bad news on August 24, a date I will never forget. Tina had stopped returning calls from Margaret, so she called the police and asked them to check on her. So, they went to her flat at Suffolk Street, and that's where they found her, Mr Noone. She was dead!"

"I am very sorry to hear that, Mr Flynn."

"They found her body in the bath, in a holdall, a big red bag made to carry camping gear. The bag was closed with a zipper. And the zipper was padlocked shut!"

I already knew most of these details. But I couldn't stop myself from gasping. Nor could I stop the cold shivers running up and down my spine.

I stood up suddenly and walked across to Brian Flynn, and rested a hand on his shoulder. "You need something to drink, Mr Flynn. What can we offer you?"

We agreed on coffee, and after returning from the kitchen, carrying a tray of cups, a coffee pot, and a jug of milk, I continued with my questioning.

"When you first arrived, you said the police had made a hash of it. I take it no arrests have taken place?"

"Arrests?" Flynn replied with muted anger. "They're not even calling it murder!"

"And they still haven't given a cause of death?"

"No. All we know about that is what has been in the tabloids. And most of what the papers have printed is shit!"

"In what way?" I asked, and there was a long pause before Flynn answered.

"First, they lied about the body. Then lied about Tina!"

"How did they lie about the body?" I inquired.

Flynn drew another deep breath. "Some of the papers said she was a victim of a stabbing. Some even said somebody had dismembered her! Then the police stated there wasn't a mark on the body, with no sign of violence."

"What else can you tell me about the state of the body?" I asked.

"Very little. The decomposition of the body was in an advanced state, and this complicated the toxicology reports, making it impossible to determine both the time of death and the cause."

"How long had Tina been missing?" I pressed, and Brian Flynn struggled to compose an answer.

"Tina returned from a trip to the U.S. on August 11. That was a Wednesday; Margaret talked to her on that day, her last contact with her family. The police have released CCTV footage of Tina shopping in London, which they say was on the 14th and 15th of August, a Saturday and Sunday. But that's all we know."

"The body," I said, "was found on the 23rd. In an advanced state of decomposition, and that may depend on the bag." I turned to Sandra. "What, if anything, DCI Burton, do you know about the bag?"

"According to my sources, it was a large red holdall, manufactured by The Northern Aspect to carry camping equipment or sporting gear. I don't know any more than that."

"Did Tina have any enemies that you know of?" I asked Flynn/

"None that I knew. But of course, in her line of work, sir, there are always enemies, are there not?"

I nodded

"Was she a big woman?"

"Tina? Good God, no. Admittedly, she stood five feet seven, five-eight at the but slight build, though very well-toned. However, she spent too many hours on the bike and climbed too many hills to be otherwise."

"So, we have a tall and fit woman in a large sports bag, padlocked, in a bathtub. And yet the police aren't saying murder? What do they think happened, Sandra? Do you think she padlocked herself into the bag?"

"No, I don't, but at least one daily paper had suggested that scenario," DCI Burton looked profoundly incredulous.

"I agree it sounds ridiculous," I said.

"But that's not the worst of it," Flynn burst out. "The papers have been full of lurid claims and innuendos, right from the very beginning, when they started saying it looked like a bizarre sex game gone wrong. Can you imagine?"

"How absurd," I said, and Flynn then continued.

"The papers have said that once in her flat, police found porn, contact numbers for male escort agencies, bondage equipment, and all sorts of other very odd things, at least, things that would have been strange to find in the flat of a single young woman."

I nodded, and Flynn continued, "Then the police stated that none of this was true. But that's hardly stopped the conjecture in the papers! Nor has it stopped the Metropolitan police from saying they think the solution to the mystery lies in her private life."

"That is very strange," I offered.

"We agree also, and we'd like to know why they're doing this. Another thing we want to know. Why did all this shit ever get printed? We never saw any sign that Tina was a sexual deviant. It appears to us as though perhaps the government or somebody was trying to smear Tina's reputation."

"Indeed, Mr Flynn," I said. "It certainly seems as though somebody somewhere is trying to blacken her name. What about your family? Where are they all based, and how are they coping?"

"We're up in the northwest of Wales, near Haliheved."

I didn't respond immediately, and Flynn continued. "Haliheved is a beautiful natural port. Valley is just a couple of miles east of there, where Anne and Eamon reside. I live a couple of miles further east, and Margaret and her husband Clifford live near Wrexham, but most are near. I can't say any of us are coping that well, but they will be chuffed as punch to learn of your interest in the case, assuming you are interested?"

"I am interested, Mr Flynn. Whether I can be of service is another matter. I will certainly do whatever I can."

"We are most grateful to you," replied Brian Flynn, rising from his seat.

"What do you think?" Sandra asked after Flynn had left.

"I think Brian Flynn is up against forces larger than he can imagine. Forces much stronger than the family can fight without any help. If I were to throw my weight onto their side, that wouldn't tip the balance. But I am going to have a bloody good go? Are you willing to gamble your career on this, Sandra? Because that is what it will mean. Your career."

"I cannot begin to imagine what the family is going through," Sandra replied. "First to lose their daughter, niece and sister; then to have her name tarnished in the papers. But, of course, I'm willing! So, what can I do to help?"

"Find a shop that sells Northern Aspect gear," I said, "and bring back one of those bags!"