Deep Cover

by Leigh Russell

  ‘Go on,’ she said, ignoring his teasing. ‘Let’s get to how she died.’

  ‘We’re in a hurry today,’ Jonah replied, but he turned back to the body and pointed to a neatly sewn-up bald patch just behind her temple. ‘She hit the side of her head here. Given the bits of bark we picked out of her hair, she must have fallen against a tree of some sort.’

  ‘Yes, well done. We’ve all seen the photos of the crime scene,’ Geraldine said. ‘In fact, I went there and saw the tree for myself. Was it the blow that killed her?’

  Jonah nodded. ‘Yes, ultimately, but she was probably unconscious by the time she hit her head, and she died very soon after.’

  ‘There wasn’t much blood,’ Geraldine said.

  ‘Most of the bleeding was internal, but she’d been strangled half to death before she hit her head anyway.’

  Solemn now, he pointed to a long livid bruise on her throat. ‘This injury was inflicted while she was alive. Either she somehow caught her neck in a noose, or else she was attacked from behind, by someone putting a belt or strap of some kind around her neck and pulling on it.’

  ‘They pulled hard enough to bruise her, but not enough to kill her,’ Geraldine said, and Jonah nodded. ‘Would she have survived the strangulation if she hadn’t fallen and suffered the head injury?’

  Jonah sighed and shook his head. ‘You know I hate to disappoint you by being vague, but it’s impossible to say for sure. If you push me, I’d say it was unlikely she would have survived the strangulation, but it’s possible. There’s really no way of knowing.’

  ‘So she was assaulted, but the attack wasn’t necessarily fatal. The attack resulted in her falling and hitting her head and sustaining a fatal head injury. So are we looking at murder or not?’

  Jonah shook his head again. ‘That’s for you to say. But if you ask me, she appears to have fallen over after losing consciousness when she was strangled nearly to death.’

  ‘So it’s all a result of the attack,’ Matthew said. ‘And she was murdered.’

  ‘I wonder if her killer knew she was dead?’ Geraldine said.

  ‘What are you talking about? He tried to strangle her, didn’t he?’

  Geraldine nodded. ‘But we don’t know whether he actually succeeded in killing her.’

  ‘She’s dead, isn’t she?’ Matthew said.

  ‘He didn’t kill her with his bare hands,’ Geraldine persisted.

  ‘He was probably wearing gloves,’ Jonah pointed out.

  Geraldine ignored the interruption. ‘He let go of her before she was dead, which means he might not have intended to kill her, only then she slipped and fell and hit her head, and that’s what killed her. Her death could have been an accident.’

  ‘And meanwhile her attacker scarpered and left her dying,’ Matthew added. ‘If he hadn’t meant to kill her, why didn’t he help her up or call for an ambulance after she fell and hit her head? He ran off and left her lying unconscious, if not dead – lying in the snow, where she would have frozen to death, if she hadn’t already been killed. How can you possibly defend him?’

  ‘I’m doing no such thing,’ Geraldine protested. ‘I’m just trying to understand what happened.’

  ‘A murderer or a mugger killed her, that’s what happened, and now we’re going to find him and put him behind bars,’ Matthew replied. ‘Whether or not this was a premeditated murder, or a mugging that went wrong, he killed her.’

  Put like that, it sounded perfectly simple.

  ‘Yes, you’re right,’ she agreed. ‘There’s no point in overthinking this.’

  When they were back at the police station, Eileen was strident in voicing her opinion that Vanessa had been murdered. Geraldine knew her colleagues were right, but she couldn’t help wondering what had actually taken place on that empty patch of waste ground, early one freezing morning, when the elusive assailant had encountered his victim.

  ‘I suppose we’ll never know what really happened,’ she murmured.

  Eileen glared irately at Geraldine. ‘We will when we find him,’ she said.

  33

  ‘What’s been going on?’ Ian asked Jenny, when they met on their designated bench in a secluded corner of the park.

  Her thick make-up was masked by large glasses with tinted lenses, and her hair and outfit were concealed beneath a long hooded grey coat. No one who spotted her walking along the street would recognise her or notice anything remarkable about a woman wearing a winter coat in January.

  She sat down at the far end of the bench and shrugged. Taking her phone from the pocket of her coat she spoke quietly, so that Ian had to strain to hear what she said.

  ‘There was some ruck at the club. Nothing out of the ordinary.’

  She leaned forward to look at the ground as she spoke, as though afraid someone watching might read her lips.

  ‘You need to be careful. Frank’s after you.’

  Ian took out his own phone and continued the conversation. With luck, anyone who chanced to see them would assume they were two strangers, both talking on their phones.

  ‘Does he suspect who I am?’ Ian asked, not daring to glance at Jenny.

  ‘I don’t think so. He would have said. And anyway, he’s not clever enough to be discreet.’ She paused. ‘He’s warned me about you, but he’s never said anything specific. He just goes on and on about how he doesn’t trust you, and I shouldn’t trust you, and stuff like that. If he knew who you really were, he’d tell me straight away.’ She paused again. ‘He’s a bit sweet on me, you know.’

  There was another pause while they both considered Jenny’s warning.

  ‘He thinks I killed Nick,’ Ian said. ‘He’s scared of me.’

  ‘And he’s jealous because Tod trusts you and took you on against his advice.’ She paused again. ‘Frank thinks he’s Tod’s number one man. You need to be careful. Frank takes his duties as Tod’s bodyguard very seriously. He beat someone up really badly – broke his jaw in two places – just for pissing Tod off.’

  Ian whistled. ‘And there was me thinking he wouldn’t hurt a fly.’

  ‘Tod likes to keep his employees at loggerheads with each other,’ Jenny went on. ‘He deliberately sews seeds of discord among them.’

  ‘Divide and rule?’

  ‘I don’t know. I think he just enjoys watching the strife,’ she replied. ‘And if there’s a brawl, he looks on from a safe distance and laughs.’

  ‘It probably makes him feel safe. His thugs are all kept busy vying with each other so they won’t turn on him,’ Ian said.

  Jenny nodded. ‘You could be right about that.’

  A man entered the park with a small dog on a lead. As he passed them, Jenny continued her charade, pretending to be listening.

  ‘Uh huh,’ she said. ‘Uh huh.’

  Ian tapped at his phone as though he was texting while the stranger walked by. The man did a circuit of the small park and left by the gate he had entered through.

  ‘What does Jack want me to do?’ Ian asked, lifting his phone to his ear again.

  ‘Just stay where you are and whatever you do don’t blow your cover.’ Jenny paused. ‘I think Frank’s been tailing me. I’ve thought so for a while. To be honest, it was bothering me quite a lot. I didn’t know whether to mention it to Tod, but now I suspect it could be to do with you.’ She turned and glanced at Ian. ‘We’re supposed to be together. I think you’d better come home with me tonight.’

  ‘Is that a good idea? With Frank being keen on you, wouldn’t it provoke him?’

  ‘Damn it,’ she replied, ‘we’re supposed to be an item, aren’t we? It’s one thing our not being all loved-up at the club – I’m still working the punters, don’t forget – but if Frank sees we’re never together he’s going to smell a rat.’

  ‘What’s the address?’

  ‘Never mind that.
We’ll leave together tonight.’

  Jenny stood up and left without a backward glance. Ian waited half an hour before doing a circuit of the park and leaving by a different gate. That night, he left the club with Jenny.

  ‘Put your arm round me,’ she muttered as they saw Frank hovering in the doorway.

  Frank scowled at them when they approached him.

  ‘Night, Frank,’ Jenny called out, blowing him a kiss.

  Ian ignored him. The less attention he paid to the bouncer, the less reason Frank would have to suspect he was nervous when, in reality, he was terrified of him.

  Jenny lived on the ground floor of a run-down old house not far from Archway station. The paintwork outside was peeling, the timber window frames were rotten, and there was a faint stench of drains in the tiny front yard where scraggy looking weeds poked up between the paving stones. A large plastic refuse bin dominated the area, overflowing with garbage. Jenny drew a brass key from her bag and opened the grimy blue door which led to a narrow hallway with stairs straight ahead and a door off to the left. A rusty bicycle all but blocked the access to the stairs, together with a pile of newspapers and magazines and a dreary looking rubber plant with only a few leaves sprouting from its woody stem. The dry earth in the pot was covered in cigarette butts and there was a stink of stale cigarette smoke in the hall. Selecting a second key from her ring, Jenny opened the internal door on the ground floor. Not until they were inside, with the door locked and bolted, did she speak.

  ‘So far so good,’ she said. ‘I don’t know what Frank suspects, but he’s a moron and no one listens to him, so I wouldn’t worry too much. I don’t think Tod suspects a thing. It’s not difficult to pull the wool over his eyes. I’ve been doing it for the best part of a year. But you do need to be careful. At the first sign that Tod seems to suspect anything, you’ll need to make yourself scarce. Don’t hang about if you think he could be on to you. Go and don’t look back.’

  ‘What about you?’

  ‘What about me? I’ll be all right. Tod has no idea who I am.’

  ‘I wouldn’t want to put you at risk for introducing me to Tod,’ Ian replied. ‘If Frank persuades him I’m dodgy, it might put you at risk.’

  Jenny’s expression softened unexpectedly. ‘I can take care of myself,’ she said. ‘Come on in and make yourself comfortable while I get out of this gear.’

  While she disappeared he took the opportunity to look around her living room. It was tastefully furnished with an expensive looking leather settee and matching armchairs, each with its own footstool. Along one wall, white shelves were filled with books, CDs and DVDs, all neatly arranged, and interspersed with small pot plants which appeared to be thriving. The decor was restful, pale blue and white, with thick blue velvet curtains at the window. It was the sort of room that might suit Jenny but would never be right for Tallulah. Ian smiled. Clearly Jenny hadn’t brought any of her other contacts from the club home with her. He heard a shower running and shortly afterwards Jenny returned, her face clean of make-up, her hair loose, still with the colourful strands which he guessed were a permanent feature. She was wearing jeans and a T-shirt which wasn’t loose enough to conceal her curves. She came over and sat on his lap.

  ‘Working undercover, we have to do whatever we can to make it feel as realistic as possible. Just say the word if there’s someone waiting for you and I’ll back off. But if not…’

  Leaning forward, she brushed his lips with hers. Ian hesitated before responding. Her body felt warm and firm against his, and Geraldine had decisively rejected him. He could continue to wait and hope she would change her mind, or he could throw himself into his new role with Jenny, who was offering him the comfort he craved. She pressed her lips more firmly against his and he didn’t draw away.

  Later on, when they were lying in bed together, he nuzzled her ear and told her he hadn’t felt this comfortable for a long time.

  ‘I mean it, Jenny,’ he said. ‘This is nice.’

  She half sat up, leaning on one elbow, and gazed down at him, a serious expression on her face.

  ‘I like you, Ian,’ she said. ‘I like you a lot. But we can’t do this.’

  He smiled lazily up at her. ‘I thought we just did. And I seem to remember it was your idea I come home with you. Come here and kiss me.’

  He started to pull her towards him, but she resisted.

  ‘No,’ she said. ‘I mean, this is fine for Tallulah and Archie, right? But Jenny and Ian? I can’t go there. It’s too complicated.’

  ‘So we’re only doing this to stay in character?’ he asked. ‘Like method acting?’

  ‘Something like that. It’s not that I wouldn’t want to with Ian, but it muddies the water if we are actually getting involved. You do see that, don’t you? We can’t afford to let our guard down for an instant. Frank’s already watching you like a hawk, and we know he’s been following me around. We have to stay alert.’

  ‘It’s all right,’ he told her. ‘I understand. This is fine, but it’s just for now. For Tallulah and Archie. Now come here, Archie doesn’t like to be kept waiting, and he’s not a man to cross.’

  She smiled and bent down to kiss him. ‘Tallulah likes to keep Archie happy,’ she said.

  It struck Ian that this relationship with Jenny was more than a little strange, but it didn’t really matter. He had no intention of becoming seriously involved with anyone other than Geraldine. He didn’t think he could. In the meantime there was no harm in seeking fleeting comfort elsewhere. After all, this was Archie, not Ian. Although Archie had only come into existence for Geraldine’s sake, he had no relationship with her and owed her nothing. Nevertheless, it felt strange lying in bed with Tallulah.

  ‘Is this a bit weird?’ he muttered, more to himself than to her.

  She didn’t answer.

  34

  Vanessa’s face had been virtually undamaged in the attack, which made it easier for her next of kin to view her body and make a formal identification. There were times when a murder victim’s features were damaged beyond recognition, making the process far more difficult for everyone concerned, and almost unbearable for the bereaved. Even though that was not the case with Vanessa, Geraldine was still dreading her next trip to see Louise. Asking people to identify the body of their loved one was one of the most troubling aspects of Geraldine’s job, almost as painful as sharing the news of the death. People’s reactions were impossible to predict. Some of them handled it with surprising equanimity, while others went completely to pieces.

  Louise opened the door and scowled at Geraldine. ‘When can we have her back?’ she asked, as though she had been waiting for someone to call so that she could pose that question. ‘We want her back right now,’ she added.

  ‘I’m afraid we can’t release the body yet,’ Geraldine replied quietly.

  Louise’s face reddened and her voice rose in pitch as she spoke. ‘Not release the body? What do you mean, you can’t release the body? You have no right to keep hold of her. She’s my sister. We have to bury her. It’s common decency, for Christ’s sake. You let us notify the undertaker straight away, and bring her home, or I’m making a complaint. I’ll take this up with the chief of police. The newspapers are going to hear of this. It will be all over the internet by tomorrow. You have no right to hang on to her any longer.’

  ‘I’m sorry, but as I’ve already intimated, we’re investigating the circumstances surrounding your sister’s death,’ Geraldine explained gently.

  ‘Investigating the circumstances? What the hell is that supposed to mean? Oh my God,’ Louise gasped, breaking off suddenly, her eyes widening in shock. ‘Are you saying – was she – was she murdered?’

  ‘That’s what we’re trying to ascertain. In the meantime, we need you to come and identify the body.’

  ‘Identify the body?’ Louise’s eyes narrowed accusingly, and her voice rose even high
er. ‘Do you mean to tell me you’re not sure it’s Vanessa? You’ve put me through all this, and the body might not be her at all? I can’t believe this. No, seriously, I just can’t believe it.’

  ‘I’m afraid we’re certain it is your sister, but we would still like you to come along to the mortuary and formally identify her, as her next of kin.’

  Louise was pale and shaking, and clearly on the point of bursting into tears.

  ‘My sister–’ Louise stammered helplessly. ‘It can’t be her. She’s my sister.’

  ‘I’m sorry,’ Geraldine repeated, equally helpless.

  Having faced other people’s grief many times, she had learned that nothing she might say could help alleviate their distress. As an inexperienced officer, she used to try and comfort the bereaved, but however strong her own need to ease other people’s suffering, she now understood that the recently bereaved were often beyond consolation. All she could do was speak kindly and gently as she guided them through the necessary procedure that followed a violent death.

  They drove in silence to the mortuary where Geraldine led Louise along quiet corridors, past bustling medical and ancillary staff with their clipboards and trolleys, all busy tending to the sick and the living. When they arrived at the waiting room, she offered Louise a drink of water, and gestured to her to take a seat on the sofa. Pushing a box of tissues across the table so Louise could reach it, Geraldine sat down to wait. Before long, a mortuary assistant appeared and ushered them across the corridor to the room where Vanessa’s body lay waiting. The dead woman’s hair had been carefully combed across the bald patch on the side of her head, and the bruising on her neck had been skilfully concealed. She could have been asleep.

  ‘She looks so peaceful,’ Louise whispered, gazing down at her sister’s white face.

  ‘Can you confirm this is Vanessa?’ Geraldine asked gently.