by S A Tameez
She wanted to make sure he got to the station herself but had already decided not to talk to him in the car. She wanted him to be interviewed and everything he said to be witnessed, recorded and cross-examined. It was time to follow the book. This was her guy and there was no chance in hell she was screwing this up. She owed it to herself, the team and the victims this monster killed.
Chapter 30
The interview room was warm. Not the good sort of warm. Stuffy. Stifling. Zoe sat beside DC Marcus Rainer and opposite Dominic Hudson.
He stared at them with a polite smile as they prepared the interview. He was incredibly still and sat with his back straight. Arms on the table, fingers intertwined. Not intimidated, not nervous, seemingly not bothered. He looked more like a man about to undergo an easy job interview than he did a man about to be interrogated for murder. An innocent man who had nothing to worry about or an emotionless psychopath, it was hard to tell.
“So, you’re a history teacher?” Marcus said after stating the formalities required for the recording.
“Was,” he responded calmly, “7 glorious years of teaching children about the past.” He spoke clearly in a posh accent – educated, smart, composed, confident.
“You recently left teaching, why?”
“I loved teaching and I loved history. I thought of becoming a historical fiction author once. But teaching paid money and I needed money, but don’t we all?” he chuckled. “I left the job because of some health issues and—”
“That’s lovely,” Zoe interrupted, she knew Marcus had some kind of strategy around the interview, but she had typically lost patience, “As much as we’d love to sit here and talk about your flamboyant career and missed opportunities, we have some important questions to ask you.”
Marcus leaned back in his chair and folded his arms. She didn’t need to see his expression to know how he felt about her storming in like a hurricane.
“I do apologise Detective Hall,” Dominic said, “I know you’re busy and don’t want to waste any more time, especially with all this knife crime going on. It really is terrible. So, please, tell me what you would like to know. I will try my best to help.”
“Did you know Sarah Fowler?”
“No.” He responded without hesitation.
“You were seen on the day. Close by to where a body of a girl was found.”
“Is that a crime?”
“No, but killing someone is,” Zoe leaned forward, “What about Vanesa Holmes?”
“What about her?”
“You were wearing a watch that was reported missing from the victim. Can you explain that?”
“Is wearing a watch that is the same as someone else a crime?”
“No, but the watch has been sent in to be examined and they will find out whether the watch belonged to Vanesa Holmes.”
“I have no doubt in it being sent off for forensic examination,” he smiled as if he didn’t have a care in the world.
“What were you doing in South Bank on the morning 20th September?” Marcus asked now following Zoe’s lead on being direct.
“That’s a great place to go jogging in the morning. You know, fresh air, not much congestion…”
“You were jogging?”
“No. I was walking. I enjoy long walks in the morning. Must be an age thing.”
“Did you see Sarah Fowler?”
“Yes. The pretty young girl laying peacefully between Millennium Bridge and Black Fryers bridge. Yes, I saw her.”
Zoe’s heart sped up.
“You murdered her and dumped her body there, didn’t you?”
“No, I didn’t murder her. I did, however, see her as I walked past. She caught my eye immediately. Beautiful girl.”
“You expect us to believe that you saw her but didn’t kill her?”
“I didn’t need to kill her. She was very much dead when I saw her. She lay peacefully, so I lay next to her for a moment, and we stared at the sky together. It was rather pleasant.”
Zoe could sense the heat radiating from Marcus. Nerves, anger, she couldn’t tell.
“And then you just walked away and left her there. Didn’t think to report it to the Police?”
“It was nothing to do with me. None of my business.”
“Is this some kind of wind up?” Marcus asked impatiently.
“But I didn’t just walk away. I saw it.”
“Saw what?” Zoe asked.
“I saw the carving of the sailboat… and well, that changed everything. Absolutely everything.”
“What do you mean?” Marcus asked, looking puzzled.
“Let me ask you something,” Dominic said staring so deep into Zoe’s eyes that she felt exposed, “Do you really think it is a coincidence that I’m here? All these years… searching for a mysterious killer… a ghost that is never seen or heard and suddenly… like magic.”
“You’re the Sailor,” Zoe said in faint voice.
“Bingo! Now we’re getting somewhere.” His smile grew. His appearance suddenly changed. Like the devil with his true colours suddenly exposed.
“You killed Sarah Fowler,” Marcus said.
“No. You’re going cold again, detective. I didn’t kill her but… that is what this is all about… you people are a little slow to see it. That’s your problem, you make things complicated, way more complicated than they need to be. Let me simplify this for you. I’m here because I want to be here. Nothing to do with your Police work, I’m sorry to say. You followed the breadcrumbs, as I expected you would, but without questioning who put them there.”
“What the hell are you on about?” Marcus said.
“You knew the watch would give you away,” Zoe said.
“I like this one,” he said winking at Marcus, “She’s smart.”
“You’re a liar!” Marcus said.
“You, not so much.” His smile faded.
“I am a liar, you’re right. But am I lying right now? Well, that’s the question.”
“You killed the girl!” Marcus said raising his voice, “You killed Sarah Fowler and now you’re trying to play games with us.”
“I told you,” he looked at Zoe, “Ask me what you want to know, and I will help you.”
“You didn’t kill Sarah,” Zoe said. She could feel Marcus’ gaze burning the side of her face. “You killed Vanesa.”
“Well done, detective. You’re finally moving in the right direction.”
“You’re confessing to killing Vanesa Holmes?” Marcus said.
“Yes, I am, among others of course, all of whom I’m sure you know about.”
“The sailboat on the victims… Sarah had the sailboat…” Zoe said.
“Come on Miss Hall… are you intentionally being obtuse? Or are you purposefully trying to insult me? I told you, ask me what you want to know, and I will help you.”
“A copycat?” Marcus asked, “Someone trying to copy you…”
“Ask me what you want to know, and I will help you,” he repeated and leaned back in his chair. Smug look on his face. Perhaps Marcus was right, he was playing games with them. Toying with the idea that he was some sophisticated serial killer mastermind, when really, he was a sad, lonely man who read too many newspapers and kept up to date with Police reports. Some kind of mental case. She had read about people who suffered mental disorders that led them to believe they were someone they weren’t. Which one was he, a mental case or a murderer?
“So, you are the Sailor…” Zoe said, “You killed all those people, but not Sarah Fowler – you didn’t kill her?”
“That’s right,” his smile grew, “I didn’t kill her. Someone else did and they weren’t like me,” he leaned forward, eyes locked on Zoe’s, “But you already know that don’t you.”
“So, who killed her?” Marcus said trying to break the intense eye contact between him and Zoe.
“I am not the Police, Detective Rainer,” he said still not looking away from Zoe, “It’s not up to me to find who killed the girl, that’s
up to you.”
“And you expect us to just believe it wasn’t you? That someone else killed her?”
“It isn’t my concern what you believe, believe what you like, it’s your God-given right…”
“I think we should take a break,” Marcus said, “It’s been a long morning.”
“I think that might be a good idea,” Dominic said with his usual wide smile, “I’ll have a tea, a squirt of milk and no sugar.”
Zoe and Marcus stood outside the interview room in shock.
“What just happened?” Zoe asked.
“We got a confession from a crazy guy.”
“You don’t think he did it?”
“I’m not sure, he seems like a bit of a… you know…” Marcus raised his forefinger to his temple and moved it in circles, “A bit batty.”
“Can I have a quick word,” Keith said as he approached them, “With both of you please.”
They followed him into an interview room, and he closed the door behind them.
“They’ve searched Dominic Hudson’s house and they’ve found all sorts of items – I think you need to take a look.”
“What sort of stuff?” Zoe asked.
“Word has got around that you got the Sailor and one of the Indexers checked some of the items found in the property, random items, ladies watches, rings, hair clips… most of them were reported as missing from many of the victims.”
“Shit,” Marcus said, “Maybe it is him.”
“We got photos of the items, but they have been sent straight for examination. Harold doesn’t want to waste any time on this. He’s worried about the Press getting whiff of the situation.”
“That’s the last thing we need,” Zoe commented. “Are you able to get the images printed and sent to my desk?”
“Sure. What’s happening with the interview?”
“He’s confessed to killing all the other victims except Sarah Fowler,” Zoe responded.
“He’s lying,” Marcus said.
“Why?” Zoe asked, “Why would he lie?”
“I don’t know… maybe because he’s a psychotic killer and has watched too many Hollywood movies and now wants to get his kicks from playing games with us!”
“I doubt it, he’s got no reason to lie. He’s confessed to the other murders. He knows he’ll rot it jail.”
“Good,” Marcus said, “I’m glad. That’s where he belongs.”
“OK,” Sergeant Keith Johnson said, “Well, I’ll have someone get the images to your desk and Harold asked me to remind everyone to avoid the Press and don’t talk to anyone about what’s happening. He will be releasing an official statement soon.”
“Thanks Keith,” Zoe said as he left the room.
Zoe squeezed the back of her neck in a bid to stop the tension from penetrating her head. She wasn’t sure whether this was a side effect of all that had happened today or whether it was her body reminding her that she hadn’t slept enough, eaten enough and drunk enough. She usually drank at least a pint of water after her morning run but, today, in the excitement, she forgot and went straight for the coffee instead. This wasn’t how she expected to catch the infamous Sailor, he wasn’t how she imagined him, and this was not as satisfying as she had hoped.
Marcus stood up and stretched.
“Right, I need some air,” he said.
Zoe nodded in acknowledgement.
“And I suppose I better get Hannibal Lector and drink.” He chuckled and left the room.
Zoe remained seated. Paralysed. It was finally sinking in that she may have just been sat opposite one of the most notorious serial killers London had seen in recent years – or not seen to be more accurate. A sophisticated killer who murdered people under their very noses and escaped without a trace. A killer who had everyone on edge for a long time. The public and the Police.
He was the Sailor. She could sense it, see it in his eyes. He wasn’t pretending, he didn’t need to. But why did he lead them to himself? That was the question niggling in her mind.
Did he even plan this or was it a bid to cover the fact he’d been caught with his pants down? He had messed up that day allowing the law to follow his scent and now he wanted to style out his capture. Although this theory would suit his character, wanting to be marvelled, admired, even applauded, she didn’t accept it. She believed every word he said.
Ask me and I will tell you what you want to know…
His words played on her mind. He wanted to be here… but why? Why, after all this time, did he want to get caught. He had murdered so many people and escaped without a trace. None of this was making sense.
Her head was throbbing. She thought about getting out for a bit – she needed some air, a strong coffee and a couple of Paracetamol tablets That should do the trick, though she knew it wouldn’t. She would walk to the pharmacy on the way to the secret café and buy a pack of tablets, sit in the far corner of the café and wonder if Nick was alright. Along with trying to work out why The Sailor was here. He was always a step ahead of the Police. He knew how to kill and how to get away with murder. And yet here he was, at the station, confessing to his crimes.
Chapter 31
Nick must have walked around the waiting room a hundred times, his feet were murdering him, yet he was no longer able to sit. It was as if sitting in one place made time go by slower and by moving, even if it were just in circles, he could somehow make it go by faster. He couldn’t wait much longer, the suspense of what was happening with Stacey was killing him. He wanted, needed to know if she was OK. She had to be OK. He needed her to be OK.
He thought back to the dark time in his life, the time he lost Michael… Katie… everything. It took him a while to rediscover himself, figure out who he was and who he wasn’t. Who he wasn’t was a guy too attached to anything or anyone, that’s what he promised himself. It was far too painful to have something you’re too attached to be taken from you, so it was better, safer not to let it get to that stage.
His mind flashed back to the day of his honeymoon with Katie. Marrakesh. The most beautiful place he had ever been, and he went there with the most beautiful person he had ever seen. Besotted by his new wife made him stupidly clingy. He couldn’t help it even if he tried. He followed her around like a vulnerable lost puppy. Waited outside the toilets when she needed to go and insisted, they went everywhere together. In hindsight, he could see how this could have been stifling.
He knew something was wrong when they went to a restaurant one night and the waiter, who was tall, tanned and well-built showed Katie a little more attention than what Nick considered acceptable. Not that he knew what was acceptable, being so deeply in love with someone changes your judgement, decisions and perceptions.
“Such a beautiful dress on such a beautiful woman,” he said as his eyes undressed her. The words had lit a match in Nick’s stomach and the flames that burned his insides continued burning until they parted. He wanted Katie to hate what he said the way he said it, hate the inappropriate compliment and predatory glare as much as he did, but when he looked at her, she was smiling playfully, blushing. Her dimples were exposed, and she giggled like a child. She liked the attention, wanted the attention. Did he not give her enough attention? Did he not give her everything she wanted, needed? Was he not enough?
He was no longer angry at the man and what he said, that was now irrelevant. He was irrelevant. How can someone he loves with every beat of his heart, someone who means everything to him betray him so easily. He noticed other things, things that annoyed him, things that in his head weren’t right. One night when they went out with her friends Ross and Mitchell, who were also newlywed, they all walked a couple of streets to the venue they had booked. It was bitter and Katie, as usual, had dressed to impress – less dress more impress. She was cold, he could feel the goose bumps on her skin as he put his arms around her. He offered her his coat which she swiftly declined. But a moment later Ross noticed her shiver and offered her his coat and she keenly accepted, thanking h
im with words that added fuel to the fire that was already rampaging inside.
It wasn’t long after this that the arguments intensified. He never thought she cheated on him, not physically anyway but emotionally she did it almost every time they left the house. This made him not want to go out – he became a miserable recluse while she started to form a teenage-style social life with other people. He would, on many occasions, sit and think about where she was, who she was talking to, flirting with. The thought would ritually torture him, but it was better than witnessing it, seeing it first-hand was no longer bearable. He thought to talk to her about it, tell her how he felt, knowing that she would say he was crazy, controlling, obsessive and would probably leave him. He even felt a little crazy and started believing he was controlling and obsessive.
This, however, all changed one morning when Katie woke up vomiting. At first, he thought it was because she had a little too much to drink the night before but when she was a few weeks late in her cycle, they bought a pregnancy test. 3 times, 3 times positive. She was pregnant and everything changed. She became more dependent on him – she was constantly nervous about the baby, delivery and paranoid about how she looked. She stopped going out which was good, but they were always arguing which wasn’t good. They would bicker about everything, big and small. Then make up passionately, ferociously, shortly afterwards. It wasn’t healthy but Nick was fine with it, because he had her. The woman of his dreams and no one could take her away from him. Not hunky waiters or her overly friendly friends. After Michael died, their relationship was not strong enough to endure the tragedy. It broke them and that was for the best. They parted on bad terms, unable to remain friends, unable to keep in touch and unable to think about each other.
Nick realised that he was so infatuated that he had lost himself. After feeling depressed for quite some time, his friend Patrick gave him a book on CBT, Cognitive Behavioural Therapy. At first, he thought it was a load of tosh but after reading it, he found some of the techniques to be useful in changing his mindset. A few more books and a few sessions with Patrick and he felt like a changed man. A man who promised himself to never get so obsessed with anything or anyone to that level again.
