by J. F. Penn
Mascuria looked towards his glass-walled garden and his voice was wistful. “She was fiercely intelligent as well as determined. I believe she may have made enemies through the causes she was pursuing.”
“Anything more specific?”
Mascuria turned. “To be honest, Detective, as part of her investigation she was going after the Royal College itself, focusing on the rights of the bodies that they have dissected over generations and trying to get recompense for the families, for victims of crimes against the body. She had probably made enemies of most of the people in that room, because she threatened their world.”
Jamie sensed something more behind his words but she couldn’t put her finger on what it was. She only knew that this man made her skin crawl, and looking at his thin white hands, she could only imagine what horrors he had dissected with them. Her years in the police had taught her that gut feel didn’t necessarily mean the person was guilty of the crime being investigated, but it sure as hell meant something else was wrong.
Chapter 11
Jamie had barely walked back in the office door before Missinghall called her over.
“You’ve got to see this footage. It’s from Carey Street, a couple of streets back from the Royal College of Surgeons. Not somewhere we checked on the initial sweep of the cameras.”
Jamie walked over to Missinghall’s desk, pulling up a chair so she could watch the screen with him. It showed a dark road, cars parked close to the kerb and street lamps casting shadows into the gloom. The impressive Gothic architecture of the Law Courts towered above, creating an interplay of chiaroscuro that drew the eye.
“Watch this,” Missinghall said and clicked Play.
Out of the darkness at the far end of the picture walked a man and a woman. The man was limping slightly, his shoulders misshapen.
“That’s Mascuria,” said Jamie, recognizing his gait. “But he said he was on the other side, walking in the park.”
Missinghall nodded. “And the girl is Mimi Stevens. His plus-one.”
Mimi stumbled a little and Mascuria put his arm around her waist, supporting her a little as he urged her faster down the road. Her head slumped on his shoulder, but she wasn’t resisting. A door opened from a dark luxury car in the foreground of the shot.
“It’s a Bentley Continental,” Missinghall said quietly, as they watched Mascuria lead the girl to the car, pull the door further open and help her into the front passenger seat. After the door closed, he stood for a moment leaning against the outside of the car looking up and down the street. Missinghall zoomed the footage in. It looked as if Mascuria was attaching something to the car window before he stepped away. He slipped into the shadows of the law courts, melting into the darkness, but he could still be seen as a faint outline.
“He stands there for almost forty minutes,” Missinghall said. “Let me fast forward.”
The minutes sped past on the video until Mascuria moved again to return to the car as the door opened. He helped Mimi out, at the same time slipping whatever device he had planted into his pocket. The girl stumbled against him again, seemingly drowsy. Mascuria pulled her skirt down as he held her up.
“She doesn’t remember anything at all?” Jamie asked.
He shook his head. “No, she says she has a blank for the evening after the starter course.”
“Likely Rohypnol or some other date rape drug,” Jamie said. “Get a couple of officers back to her place. There may still be physical evidence of assault … So who was in the car?”
Missinghall zoomed in the camera again.
“The number plate is obscured but the only Bentley Continental owned by anyone at the party belonged to Lord Christopher Neville.”
Jamie slammed her hand down on the desk. “Bastard,” she said. “But we don’t have a visual on him. I’m going back to Mascuria’s. I knew there was something up with him and I want to know what he put onto the outside of the car.”
“There’s something else,” Missinghall said. “Look at the time.” He pointed at the screen. “Mascuria alibis out during the time of Jenna’s death. This video clearly identifies him in that window of opportunity and if that’s Lord Neville inside, then that’s his alibi too.”
“But we can still get the two of them on assault if there’s enough evidence. It might give us some leverage to find out what else happened that night.” Jamie bent closer to the screen, examining the figure of Mascuria clutching the drooping girl. “Can you print some stills I can take back out? If he acts as some kind of pimp for Christopher Neville we need to know, and if they were out there, we don’t have an alibi for Esther Neville. Can you follow up on the taxis in the meantime?”
***
Twenty minutes later, Jamie pulled up outside Mascuria’s flat again, her anger at his abusive behavior barely controlled. He opened the door, a clear expression of antipathy on his face this time, every trace of his helpful attitude gone.
“Detective, back so soon. What else can you possibly want?”
Jamie pulled out the photos of him on the street, one with Mimi and one waiting outside the car. As he looked at them, Jamie was gratified to see his already pale face blanch, before his eyes narrowed. Jamie saw the warning there, but she was angry with his lies and didn’t intend to back down. He stepped away to allow her into the flat and walked ahead of her into the living room.
“You said earlier that you walked around the park,” Jamie tried to keep disgust from her voice. “But it seems you took Mimi to Lord Neville’s car and stood waiting for forty minutes. What happened in the car?” Mascuria was silent for a moment. Jamie knew that he was calculating how he could explain this in a way that would keep him out of trouble. “Just so you know, we’re interviewing Mimi Stevens again, and there may still be evidence of assault.” Jamie watched his face flush, with anger, perhaps jealousy. Had he wanted to be in the car with her? She went on the offensive. “Can you confirm that it was Lord Christopher Neville in the car?”
Mascuria turned away. “You don’t have anything on me, Detective. I was just walking Mimi to the vehicle for a consensual private meeting.”
Jamie knew there was only a small window of opportunity to take this further and she had to offer him something. She softened her voice.
“It’s an alibi for the murder, Edward. The time of death was during the interval of that video, so you now have an alibi for the murder of Jenna Neville. I want to know who was in the car so I can also rule them out for murder.”
Mascuria spun round, eyes suddenly hopeful. He was a bastard, for sure, but he hadn’t committed this murder, and clearly Christopher Neville would be grateful for an alibi.
“Yes, it was Christopher,” he said, with defiance. “But Mimi wanted to be with him.”
Jamie waved her hand, as if brushing away his words. “I don’t want to hear about it. But I do want the video you took.”
“There’s no video,” he said too quickly, but his face was clearly guilty as hell and his eyes flicked over to the Mac. Jamie walked to his desk and pulled out her cellphone.
“Have you heard of obstruction, Edward? Shall I take your computer down to the station and get it processed? What else will I find on it?”
Mascuria came very close, invading Jamie’s personal space and putting a possessive hand on top of the screen.
“You need a warrant for the computer, and you know it.”
Jamie didn’t back away, meeting his steely eyes with her own glare. She sensed that he felt her revulsion, but his physical deformity was nothing compared to his twisted morality.
“True,” she said, weighing up her choices. She wanted that file. “But I can make a call and stand here and wait for it. I’ve got all day. Or you can just give me that one file right now, and I’ll leave.”
Mascuria stared at her, his shark’s eyes calculating. Jamie felt a wave of violence emanate from him and she tensed her muscles, waiting for any indication that he would attempt to hurt her. She almost wanted him to try. After a fe
w tense seconds, Mascuria breathed out slowly and she smelled decay on his breath.
“I’ll give it to you,” he said, stepping back. Jamie wondered what else he had on the laptop, because this clearly wasn’t the only time he had done this, she was sure of it. Was he blackmailing Neville? Did that account for the wealth he displayed in his so-called student flat? Whatever else he had on that computer, she couldn’t give him time to wipe this file.
She nodded and let him sit down at the desk. Mascuria turned the screen away from her and she stood with her back to the glass walled garden, watching him work. He plugged a USB stick into the side and quickly loaded it with a file. His eyes kept turning back to her, checking she was still far enough from him. After a minute, he pulled the USB stick out and thrust it at her.
“This had better be the right one,” Jamie said.
“I think you’d better leave now, Detective. I don’t have anything else for you.”
Jamie saw the threat mounting in his eyes, but she held them with her own until he looked away. She walked to the door, her back muscles tense, waiting for an attack that didn’t come.
Outside, Jamie mounted her bike and then looked back as she felt she was being watched. Through the wooden blinds, she could just make out Mascuria’s face at the window, his features twisted with hate.
***
Back at the station, Jamie handed the USB stick to Missinghall, who plugged it into the side of a separate desktop, disconnected from their main system in case of computer viruses.
“It’s clean,” he said, after a moment. “Now let’s have a look at what happened in that car.”
The video shot was clear but only had one angle. It started with Mimi entering the car and sitting in the front passenger seat, looking dazed and confused. In the background, Lord Christopher Neville sat with his suit jacket off, his top shirt button undone. There was no sound, but Mimi looked surprised as the seat she was on reclined. She fought to stay upright for a second but Neville leaned over and pushed her down with one firm hand on her breast.
She was mainly out of shot then but Jamie watched the movements of Neville’s hands, clearly pulling up her short dress. He clambered onto her, fumbled with his hands and then began a thrusting motion, the camera shot obscured by how close he was to it.
“I think it’s clear what he’s doing,” Jamie snapped. “This is evidence of rape, since her statement says that she remembers none of this. It’s clearly not consensual.”
They watched as Neville knelt up and the scene changed as he maneuvered Mimi’s legs, moving a slim stiletto heeled foot across his body. He reached forward, his body jerking a little with exertion, although he seemed to be doing whatever it was with some care. Presumably he didn’t want to leave marks on her skin. Jamie leaned closer to the screen to see what he was doing, and then realized with a jolt of anger.
“Bastard. He’s turning her over.” Jamie started to rap her fingers on the table, a staccato beat that sped up as Neville reached his climax, his face reddening as he panted on top of the prone girl. Jamie hated to watch the rape, but she felt that witnessing the crime was part of her responsibility. The anger she felt for Mimi’s abuse heaped upon her pent up rage and she felt her blood pressure rising. As much as the police could hack away at the darkness, inching their way forward and bringing light to the city, behind them the shadows reformed and evil flourished in the cracks. “Can you get this to the officers working with Mimi, and I want a statement from Lord Neville.”
“Sure thing,” Missinghall said. “But this alibis Mascuria and Christopher Neville for Jenna’s murder. Can we eliminate them from that investigation?”
Jamie shook her head. “Not yet. I’m sure there’s more to this. Let me sort out the warrant for Mascuria’s computer and then I’ve got to meet a source back at the Hunterian. If we can get the paperwork sorted on this, we can arrest the pair of them by the end of the day. I’m sure that will result in new leads for the inquiry.”
Back at her desk, Jamie was soon lost in the minutiae of paperwork for the warrant. It was a thankless, but important, part of any investigation and as much as she preferred the more active side of a case, it would give her great satisfaction to be able to bring Mascuria and Neville in.
Minutes after Jamie had logged the meeting with Mascuria and the request for a warrant up to the SIO, the door of the Incident Room opened and Detective Superintendent Dale Cameron walked in.
“DS Brooke,” he called, his voice authoritative. “My office, please.”
The room quietened slightly until he turned and left again, not waiting for her to follow. Jamie stood, wondering why her superior had made such a public scene. She went to his office and shut the door behind her.
“Sir. You got my update?”
Cameron stood behind his desk, looking down at Jamie, his patrician features composed. Jamie had been expecting praise at the new evidence, but his imperious tone suggested something quite different.
“Yes, and it disturbs me. I’m expecting you to focus on finding Jenna Neville’s killer, not pursuing her grieving father for what was probably drunken consensual sex.”
Jamie was stunned enough to stand in silence for a moment. There’s no way that Cameron could have watched the video yet, so it could only mean one thing. She thought back to the photo of him in the Nevilles’ hallway, the impossibility of moving on this quickly without his go ahead.
“But, Sir …” she started.
“But nothing, Jamie.” Cameron sat down behind his desk and Jamie felt like a child summoned to the headmaster. “Seriously, haven’t you got enough on your plate with the murder investigation without heading down some sexual assault rabbit hole that has no chance of getting any further?”
“I can …”
“I don’t want to hear any more,” Cameron interrupted, his hand held up to stop her. “I’ll assign another team to investigate the sexual assault claims, but you need to focus on Jenna Neville’s murder. The press are having a field day with our lack of progress. What about that Day-Conti, her boyfriend?”
“He’s still a person of interest, but there’s no evidence against him Sir, although we’re still verifying his alibi at the nightclub. I do have some other interviews lined up today.” Jamie decided to omit the detail that one of those was Esther Neville. If Cameron was compromised in some way, she needed time to collect all the evidence together.
“Continue with that then, but Jamie, I will not have you anywhere near Christopher Neville unless you have some evidence directly linking him to Jenna’s murder. I want the focus squarely on Day-Conti.”
Jamie nodded her assent, but her eyes were cold. With such friends in high places, she could see how Cameron had earned his Teflon stripes, and she wondered what other investigations he had an interest in. But for now, there was nothing she could do.
Chapter 12
Blake looked at his watch for the fourth time as he paced outside the Royal College of Surgeons. Some part of him hoped that Jamie wouldn’t turn up so he could go back to his research, but then he also felt she offered some kind of redemption, a way in which he could use his curse for good. The problem with being able to read the past was that you felt impotent and powerless, unable to change what had already happened. What good was an ability to see what had already failed, or died and rotted away? Perhaps this time, it would be different.
In preparation for today, he hadn’t drunk anything last night, even though he had craved oblivion. Alcohol deadened the visions, shaded their vivid color and rubbed over their raw power until they faded like a mirage, and he wanted to be fully open and alert today. He hadn’t read as deeply as this for a long time, and the possibilities both exhilarated and scared him.
He heard the roar of a motorcycle and a figure in black pulled up in front of him. He hadn’t expected Jamie to ride a bike, but somehow it fitted her independence and need to be apart from others. As she removed her helmet, Blake remembered how she had looked in his vision of tango and t
ried to fit it to this leather clad wraith, her face devoid of makeup, hair scraped back as if in punishment. He realized that she had the face of a model, the kind who looked ugly in some shots and stunning in others, depending on the animation of her mouth, the look in her eyes or the way she held herself. At tango, she was a goddess, but right now Jamie’s face was hard and Blake imagined that was the look that made criminals wary.
“Morning,” she said, dismounting the bike. “Sorry I’m late. I had to see a man about a video.”
Blake could sense her anger, the vibrations of intense emotion emanating from her.
“We don’t have to do this now, you know,” he said. “Maybe another time would be better.”
Jamie shook her head. “If you’re ready, I really do want to know whether you can shed any more light on the case.” She smiled then, and he felt the shift in her, the way her attention could focus. He envied her ability to tune everything else out.
He nodded, pushing aside his own doubt. “Let’s do this then. I can’t promise anything but it’s worth a try.”
Jamie led the way into the museum, now cleaned of evidence but still closed to the public for a time out of respect for Jenna’s family. Blake hesitated at the door, knowing that this place contained instruments of torture exhibited under the guise of the medical profession. There were saws that sliced bone from bodies, instruments to suck blood from flesh and knives to pare it away.
These were things he could not and did not want to touch, and he felt a wave of fear at being in such close proximity to them, a concern that he would be overwhelmed by visions of past horror. Blake took a deep breath, remembering his father’s curses that had called on Hell to visit him with all its spectacles of evil to drive him mad. He felt tendrils of it in the museum and a pain began to pulse in his temples. But he felt that he deserved to face whatever was here, and only by embracing the visions could he find something to help Jamie and the murder investigation.
