Double Check

by Malcolm Rose

  “No. He claimed that he did not remember.”

  Luke was amazed. Almost everyone denied it, at least until they realized that the evidence was beyond doubt. “When and where was he arrested?”

  “Approximately thirty-one minutes after the death. He remained outside the building.”

  Luke turned towards Malc in disbelief. “He hung around?”

  Malc hesitated. “If hanging around is defined as lingering outside, you are correct.”

  “Where exactly?”

  “Under an elm tree, five metres from the front door.”

  Luke shook his head and muttered, “Strange.” Squinting at the false floorboards, he asked, “Are there bloodied shoeprints? Is that what I’m seeing?”

  “Correct.” Malc adjusted the hologram to mimic the effect of a laser scan in a darkened room and the shoeprints glowed an unearthly blue. “The trail was composed of the victim’s blood and it led from the corpse to the prime suspect outside.”

  “What evidence was found on him?”

  Malc adjusted the lighting so that the room appeared normal again to human eyes. “Everton Kohter had several bruises that he couldn’t account for, one of the victim’s hairs on his coat, and trousers soiled with urine. His hands and clothing were stained with substantial quantities of the victim’s blood.”

  “Were the bloodstains consistent with someone who’d just done this?” Luke indicated the stab wounds.

  “Not recorded.”

  “Well, let’s check. I want to see the pattern of bloodstains on Everton Kohter.”

  Malc replied, “The finer points were considered irrelevant, given the strength of the case against the accused.”

  “I still want it.”

  “Task logged. I will re-examine the images of the culprit’s clothing when my systems are not fully occupied with recreating the scene.”

  “What was his motive?”

  “Temporary insanity.”

  Luke grunted. “I can see he went mad in here. And he must’ve been crazy to hang around afterwards.” He thought about the muddy footprints for a moment before adding, “Was it raining at the time?”

  “Searching case notes.”

  Luke wandered around the pretend living room. At the far end was a door and, out of habit, he reached out for the handle. Smiling, he stopped himself. In a dream house, he had no need to open doors and he could not grasp a make-believe handle anyway. He walked through the holographic wood as if he were parting a mist. Beyond it, the kitchen had been suspended in time like a spooky painting.

  Following him, Malc said, “In London, the day of the murder was described as stormy.”

  “Well, I’ve never known a murderer shelter outside the crime scene, waiting for the rain to stop.”

  “Do you want me to search all criminal databases for examples when I have spare resource?”

  Luke laughed. “No. It just doesn’t happen.”

  On the worn work surface, stainless steel handles poked up out of the knife rack but one was missing.

  “What about traces here?”

  “What do you wish to know?”

  Luke sighed and spelled it out. “What trace evidence was found here and what were the deductions?”

  “There was no useful evidence,” Malc answered. “The fingerprints belonged only to the house owners. One pattern was rejected because it was marked, but it was still identifiable as belonging to Camilla Bunker.”

  Luke wafted his hand though the virtual knives. There was no friction, no sharpness, no pain. No substance at all. “Is this a heavy base? Could someone grab a knife in one hand and just pull it out? If they had to hold the base down, there’d be prints on it as well as the handle.”

  “Insufficient data. The case notes do not include this detail.”

  “Check it, please.”

  “Logged,” Malc replied.

  “Was there any evidence that Everton Kohter had come in here at all? Any more muddy shoeprints?”

  “No.”

  “His fingerprints weren’t on the door or handle?”

  “No.”

  “He was careless enough to leave prints on the front door but not on this one. That’s weird.”

  Malc was never surprised. He merely deduced. “It would suggest that the kitchen door was wide open.”

  Luke was dubious. “If Rowan was in the living room, you’re saying he let Everton wander past into the kitchen and grab a knife!” Strolling back through the virtual door like a ghost, Luke asked, “What was the link between Everton Kohter and the victim? Did they know each other?”

  Malc answered, “It was a random attack. That is not uncommon in cases of temporary insanity.”

  “Were there any finds that didn’t point to Everton Kohter?”

  “No.”

  “Were there traces of anyone in here apart from Kohter, the victim and his partner?”

  “No.”

  Again, Luke squatted by the copy of Rowan Pearce’s body. “What was his life like, Malc? And his relationships.”

  “Not recorded. It was considered irrelevant to the case.”

  The smile on Luke’s face was ironic. He thought that the lives of the dead were always relevant. He stood up again and surveyed the room for the last time. “How exactly did Kohter get in? He didn’t walk through the wood like I can.”

  “The prisoner claimed that the door was slightly open. It was assumed that he simply pushed it and entered.”

  Luke frowned. “It was open in a storm?”

  “Correct.”

  Luke halted with his hands on his hips. “Well, what can I say?” He glanced at Malc. “No, don’t answer that. A few things don’t make sense but...” He shrugged helplessly.

  “In a case of insanity, you should not expect the culprit’s behaviour to make sense. Otherwise he would not be insane.”

  Luke could not argue with his mobile’s logic. “True.”

  Malc concluded, “There are no flaws in the case. The evidence is overwhelming. It is easily sufficient to charge Everton Kohter with the murder of Rowan Pearce.”

  Luke nodded sadly. “Easily enough to get him convicted and executed as well.”

  Chapter Three

  Rowan Pearce’s house dissolved in front of Luke’s eyes. It was like waking up from a dream. Back in the real world, doors and walls were solid and Luke couldn’t float through a crime scene with a sense of detachment from the cruelty. He blinked and then looked at Malc. “While I’m here, do the people on the Pairing Committee know I’m investigating them?”

  “Your location is irrelevant. They do not know there is an investigation.”

  “No. I mean, while I’m in the same building as them, I could get things moving. Request a meeting, Malc.”

  The full Pairing Committee of four people could not be assembled at short notice but the Chairperson agreed to meet Luke in her office. About fifty years of age, Nicoletta Boniwell was an instructor as well as Chair of the committee. Along with her three colleagues, she supervised all pairings in the Sheffield area.

  When every young person reached The Time – twenty years of age – Ms Boniwell and her team had the responsibility of making sure that they were coupled strictly according to the rules laid down by The Authorities. Pairs were formed on the basis of career, age, intelligence and genetics. A musician like Jade would be paired with an artist to produce artistically talented offspring. A forensic investigator would be coupled with a scientist. All partners had to be of the same age. Arranging or taking part in pairings outside of the rules was against the law.

  Behind an imposing desk, Nicoletta Boniwell typed a few words on a keypad and then gazed at the screen.

  Standing in front of her, Luke breathed the air that was richly scented with her perfume. He could not see her monitor, yet he could guess what she was reading.

  She looked up at him with a puzzled frown. “Everything looks clear-cut in your file. You’re to be matched with a girl called Georgia Bowie – a biologist.
” She waved her hand dismissively, flashing a pairing ring decorated with a large sapphire.

  Luke hesitated, working out how best to protest and, without making it obvious that he was conducting an inquiry, discover if the committee would consider an illegal pairing. Before he could reply, Malc interrupted.

  “Officially,” the mobile said, “Luke Harding and Georgia Bowie’s pairing has not been confirmed. The committee in London was attacked before it could ratify the arrangement.”

  Luke knew that Malc was simply reporting the truth – as his programming always required – but he liked to think that the mobile was on his side, doing what he could to resist the system.

  Nicoletta Boniwell studied her screen for a while longer and then said, “That seems to be correct. What do you want? Are you asking us to approve the pairing?”

  “No,” Luke replied. He decided to be blunt. After all, he was a forensic investigator on a case of possible corruption and he wanted to lay a trap for the Pairing Committee. “I’m asking you to change it. I’m hoping you’ll pair me with Jade Vernon.”

  The woman looked shocked. She turned away from him and coughed gruffly into her hand. “This is extremely unusual, FI Harding. Pairing Committees do not consider requests. They decide what’s best for the future. Your mobile will remind you of the reasoning.”

  “Research has shown that the early stages of romantic love are merely a driving force like hunger or thirst. They do not involve emotional centres of the brain. Rather, the human brain is simply pursuing a pleasurable reward, like eating chocolate. Such urgent pleasurable need is called lust. Later in a relationship, the brain recovers from obsession and forms a longer lasting bond involving its emotional centres. The pairing system stops young people engaging in impulsive and unwise couplings in pursuit of pleasure. By imposing rational unions, Pairing Committees aim for long-term commitment directly. They also consider genetic compatibility for childbearing. The purpose of pairing is to produce children with specific desired skills.”

  To Luke, Malc sounded not such a friend this time. In trying to get himself paired with Jade, Luke was on his own.

  “Just because you’re an investigator,” Nicoletta continued, “you don’t get special treatment.” Her eyes flitted to her monitor again. “Besides, isn’t Jade Vernon a musician here in Sheffield?”

  “Yes.”

  “There’s your answer, then. She’s to be paired with an artist.”

  “I’m not asking for special treatment,” Luke replied. “I’m just asking for a bit of... lateral thinking.” He remembered that Jade had once called herself an assistant forensic investigator because she’d used her talent with sound to help him out in two cases. She was only joking, Luke knew, but she’d given him a new angle. “Jade’s a musician but she’s scientifically minded and technically competent. She’s played a vital role in two of my cases. In effect, she’s my assistant when it comes to using and analysing sound. Confirm, please, Malc.”

  At once, Malc agreed. “Her command of acoustics assisted in the arrest of one suspect and her analysis of footsteps provided a strong lead in a second murder investigation. I can retrieve the relevant files if required.”

  Ms Boniwell ignored Malc and gazed at Luke. “Basically she’s a musician. An artist.”

  “Her knack for science might be suppressed most of the time but it’s there,” Luke replied. “That means our genes are compatible.”

  “All right, FI Harding.” Nicoletta shuffled uncomfortably and leaned forward, dangling the long fingers of her right hand over the front edge of the desk. “I’ll reflect on what you’ve said, even if it is irregular. The committee will speak to Jade Vernon but we won’t contact your intended partner until we’ve reached a conclusion. I’ll call you to an interview in due course. But, if I were you, I wouldn’t hold out much hope.”

  ****

  Staring at Owen Goode’s face on his telescreen, Luke shrugged. “I’ve seen the evidence now, Owen. Short of writing ‘This is the work of Everton Kohter’ all over the wall in the victim’s blood, your mate’s guilty. I’m sorry. He even spat and peed on the body. And bit it. That’s not what normal, innocent people do. His sweat, hair, and fibres from his clothes were all over the place. He left behind enough evidence to prove himself guilty four times over. When the FI found him, he was outside the victim’s house, dazed, covered in bruises, with the victim’s blood splashed over him.”

  “I don’t believe it.”

  “There was a trail of blood from the body to where he was standing.”

  Owen shook his head obstinately. “Go and speak to him. Then decide.”

  Luke let out a long breath. “It won’t do any good. Not when he’s buried in an avalanche of evidence.”

  “But you don’t know him.”

  It was true. He was condemning Everton without even meeting him. The life of a suspect was just as relevant as that of a victim. “All right,” Luke said. “I’ll go. But...”

  “Yeah. I know. Likely, you can’t promise anything.”

  “More than that. I can’t think what could possibly overturn that amount of forensic evidence.”

  Chapter Four

  Jade hit the Save button and whipped off her headphones, making her unruly hair even more unruly. She’d had it dyed so it was a chaos of brilliant colour, ready to startle the nightclubbers at her gig tonight. With a grin, she said, “Hiya. How’s tricks?”

  “I’ve... er... got some bad news,” Luke replied, eager to get it over with.

  “Oh? What’s that?” she asked, still sitting at the terminal of her mixer, headphones dangling from her right hand.

  “I’ve got to go to Cambridge tomorrow.”

  “Cambridge?” she exclaimed. “Yuck. Why?”

  “Sorry, but I’ve got to interview a prisoner – the one who’s up for the death penalty.”

  “Let’s see.” Jade stroked her chin theatrically. “A nightclub in Sheffield with me or a Cambridge prison with a murderer. Mmm. That’s a tricky choice you’ve got.”

  “All right. All right. I’d rather stay here with you but...”

  “You could interview him by telescreen.”

  “Yeah, but it’s not the same,” Luke replied. “Face-to-face is best for what I’ve got to do.”

  “If you did it by telescreen, you could come to my gig.”

  Luke sighed. “You could stream your stuff to Malc. I can listen that way.”

  Jade looked horrified. “That’s not the same either. Face-to-face is the only way. You’ve got to be there, hear it live. And you need a decent sound system.”

  Luke paused and then said, “You’re going to be great, I know. You’re going to give everyone a real good time. I’m jealous. But, at the end of the day, you’re into entertaining people, Jade, and I’ve got to double-check the death sentence given to a fifteen-year-old. Thirteen at the time of the murder.” He shrugged. “If he’s innocent, I’ve got just over two weeks to do the impossible.”

  “What?”

  “Dig him out from under a mountain of evidence.”

  “And you’ve got this crazy Pairing Committee job as well.”

  Luke had not yet looked into the details of the illicit couple because Everton Kohter’s predicament was more important and urgent. Luke intended to interview them after his Cambridge trip. “Yes,” he said, blushing. “That’s another thing.”

  “What is?”

  “You might get hauled in front of the committee.”

  Jade frowned. “Me? Why?”

  Telling her what he’d said to Nicoletta Boniwell felt like a confession.

  Jade’s hand froze in her hair. “What are you trying to do, Luke? Get paired with me or are you playing the FI, laying a trap for them?”

  Luke took a deep breath. “Both, I suppose.”

  Jade let out a snort. “No chance! If they say no, you haven’t got a case of corruption and you’re not paired with me. If they say yes, you’ve either got a case against them or you get us paire
d. You can’t have it both ways.”

  “If they say yes, we might have to go through with it. Get them to ratify our pairing. You know, to make sure they’re willing to bend the system.”

  “But then they’re guilty and The Authorities will quash it.”

  “Not if I can make them look innocent.”

  Jade threw up her hands. “Much as I like the idea, I can’t see it happening. You’re a dreamer, Luke.” Her frown turned into a smile as she said, “But I like you for it.”

  ****

  Briefly, Luke’s electric cab ran alongside Rutland Water. The bank was encrusted with frost and large plates of ice still floated on the lake, but most of it had thawed. A little light snow began to drift down from a heavy sky, reflecting Luke’s mood.

  There was a gulf between the north and the south but no clear dividing line. As the cab skirted around Peterborough, the countryside began to look unkempt and many of the houses were in poor repair. Watching the worsening living conditions, Luke did not relish his return to the south but he was curious about the young prisoner awaiting his appointment with the Death Cell.

  “Not far from Cambridge,” Luke said sadly.

  “Forty-seven point two kilometres from the prison,” Malc informed him.

  “Tell them when I’ll arrive and who I’m coming to see.”

  “Transmitting.”

  “Play me the sound clip of Everton Kohter’s arrest, please.”

  Malc located the file in a matter of seconds and activated it. The clear voice of a forensic investigator stood out from the background noise. “You’re in serious trouble, Kohter. I ask you again. How did you get this blood all over you?”

  A quiet and confused thirteen-year-old voice responded. “Don’t know.”

  Behind the talk was the constant patter of rain.

  “Shall I tell you? You stabbed him. Three times. Why?”

  There was no answer. But there was another sound. It could have been the sniff of someone trying to suppress sobs.

  “You’ve got his blood on your shoes,” the FI said. “It doesn’t take much figuring out, does it?”

  “Don’t know,” Everton repeated.