Tooth for a Tooth (Di Gilchrist 3)

to follow. They pushed through swing doors, then up a flight of metal stairs that echoed with their footsteps, into a room filled with racks of shelves loaded with boxes.
    ‘Cold cases are in here,’ Latham said.
    Gilchrist watched her work her way between two rows of shelves, eyeing the printed boxes and mumbling from the alphabet.
    ‘Here we are.’ She stooped to remove a cardboard box from a lower shelf, and he could tell by the ease with which she did so that it did not contain much. She carried it to a metal table and slit it open. ‘Sixty-nine,’ she said, peeling the top back. ‘It’s been a while. There’s not a lot in here. What’s the deal?’
    ‘She was murdered in Scotland.’
    ‘Right. This is the one that’s causing some dust to fly.’
    ‘Excuse me?’
    ‘We got a call yesterday from someone with an accent just like yours. Wanted us to send him two postcards. He was told we would need to see something on his letterhead. We gave him our fax number and haven’t heard from him since.’
    ‘Did he give his name?’
    ‘Nope. He hung up. We called the number back and got a restaurant.’
    ‘Which one?’
    ‘Pad something. A Thai restaurant. These must be what he was asking for,’ she said, and handed him the postcards. ‘I’ll leave you to it. But let me know when you’re done.’
    Gilchrist thanked her, then dug through the box. More letters, a hairbrush, nail file, toothbrush, all to retain samples of Kelly for DNA. In the late sixties, a way to analyse DNA had not yet been refined, but most police forces around the world knew it was coming.
    He turned his attention to the postcards.
    After all this time, and having passed through countless hands on their way to this box, the likelihood of lifting fingerprints from either of them would be non-existent. But the underside of the stamps might provide a DNA sample.
    One postcard was of a busy Mexican metropolis. The printing on the back told him it was Mexico City. The other he recognized as St Andrews Cathedral, twin entrance spires in the foreground, St Rules Tower in the background.
    He turned the St Andrews postcard over.
    The date stamp was still legible, but only just.
    12 Feb 1969
    He read the date again. It could not be correct. The killer should have sent this
after
Kelly was dead and buried, not before. This date was too soon. But if the date was correct, it could mean only one thing.
    Kelly’s murder had not been spur-of-the-moment, but planned.
    His mind pulled up Rita’s words, when she last saw Kelly.
    Not long after my birthday. Around the 18th or 19th of February
.
    Rita had driven to Wales after breakfast with Kelly that day. The killer must have known that, must have been waiting for his chance to move in. He would have known of Kelly’s imminent return to the States and grabbed that narrow window of opportunity, which had Gilchrist thinking of Rita’s boyfriend, Brian.
    Where was he now?
    Just as Kelly’s mother had said, the postcard was typed. He scanned the letters for inconsistencies, a missing dot, a slanted letter, a crooked serif, but found none. The address was correct, to Kelly’s parents – Mr and Mrs Roberts – which the killer must have known through his friendship with Kelly. Again, Brian popped to the fore.
    Just how well had Brian known his girlfriend’s flatmate? And if Brian was the killer, what had he done with all Kelly’s stuff? Burned it? Buried it? Discarded it in rubbish bins around town? Gilchrist pulled the card closer. No full-stop after either title, not the way an American would have typed it.
Mr. and Mrs
. Which confirmed his thinking that the killer was Scottish, or at least not American. Mexican? Was that a possibility?
    He read on.
     
Typing this because I hurt my hand. Tripped up on the beach. Going to Mexico for a short break. Won’t be back in the States until March. Will be in touch. See you soon. Love you both. Kelly. xx
     
    Gilchrist read it again.
    Typing this because I hurt my hand
.
    Good enough reason for using a typewriter, yet vague enough to explain why medical records would show no visit to the doctor or hospital.
    Won’t be back in the States until March
.
    The killer must have known Kelly was planning to return home after her final exams, and would have needed to make sure her parents received the postcard in advance. If not, Kelly’s parents would have been on the phone to the Scottish authorities for news of their missing daughter.
    This further proved