It’s an intensive process, even for a computer. There is so much data to analyse, so many faces to identify and compare.
She watches the display as each file is checked. Every time the computer moves on to a new file, she feels a surge of optimism. It’s dashed again when a tiny cross is drawn next to the filename to indicate that no match has been found.
She wonders how things are going in the interview room. Perhaps they are having better luck than she is. Perhaps Daley is confessing all, including the murders. In which case her failings won’t matter.
Only a few files left now. Look – another little cross. Ho-hum, no match. And what about this one? Go on, show me if you must. Cross it off your list, you unfeeling machine. Don’t worry about the effect you’re having on little old me. Don’t bother to spare a thought for—
Beep.
This from the computer, interrupting her thoughts. A tiny electronic shout that changes everything.
No cross this time. A tick. A big fat green tick.
It has found a match.
Grace pounces on the mouse. Opens up the file. Watches intently as the video reveals its secrets.
It’s a surprise, all right.
She’s not sure what it means – only that Cody needs to know about it.
49
No comment. No comment. No comment.
That’s all they were getting from Daley. Every question about the videos was batted swiftly away with the same two-word answer.
But now Cody has returned to the subject of the murders, and Daley has suddenly found his tongue again. He has, for example, just finished denying vehemently that he was ever a client of Cassie Harris.
All of which Cody finds a little puzzling. Why clam up on one set of charges, but be so loquacious concerning the others? Why not just refuse to respond to all of the questions?
Unless, of course . . .
Prosser is a clever bastard. He has probably accepted that his client is about to go down for the charges relating to the videos on his computer. He will have advised Daley not to make the job of the police easier for them. If they want to press charges, then fine, but don’t run the risk of giving them extra ammunition to shoot you down.
The murder charges are less clear-cut. Prosser is well aware that the evidence is iffy to say the least. The problem with ‘no comment’ responses there is that they could count against Daley in court. A jury would be entitled to be suspicious about the fact that he chose not to defend himself at the first opportunity.
Yes, thinks Cody. That’s what Daley is doing. He’s effectively holding his hands up to one set of crimes to increase his chances of acquittal on the others. He’s saying to the jury, Look, what you need to know about me is that I say ‘no comment’ when I’m guilty. I haven’t done that on the murders, though, so I must be innocent.
Clever.
At least, Cody hopes the opposition is that devious. The unthinkable alternative is that Daley really didn’t commit the murders.
Either way, it’s starting to look as though Daley might well avoid conviction for the killings. What they need now is either some new evidence or for Daley to make a damning slip of the tongue. It seems a faint prospect.
‘What about Allerton Road, Colin? Ever go there?’
‘No. Why would I?’
‘Ever come into contact with the third victim, Susan Halligan?’
‘Nope. Never heard of her before her name appeared in the papers.’
‘Are you a religious man, Colin?’
‘Not especially. I believe in God, but that’s about it. I don’t go to church much.’
‘What about the people you know – the ones you socialise with? Any of them particularly religious?’
Daley doesn’t answer immediately. His eyes seem to freeze over, and a second later his knee begins its little dance. Knowing he’s on to something, Cody leans across the table.
‘It’s a simple question, Colin. What’s the problem?’
‘I’m thinking. Going through people in my head.’
That’s not it, thinks Cody. That’s not what you’re doing, Colin.
There’s a rap on the door, and it opens before Cody can answer. Looking flustered, Grace Meade pokes her head into the room.
‘There’s something you should see,’ she tells Cody.
Cody cannot hide his irritation at being interrupted at such a key moment in the interview.
‘Not now, Grace. We’re in the middle of—’
‘I know. But it’s important. Really important.’
Just how much this matters to Grace is written clearly on her face. Cody nods to her, then announces the suspension of the interview before halting the recording.
‘I’ll be back in a few minutes,’ he tells the others. Looking directly at Colin he says, ‘We’ll pick up where we left off.’
He follows Grace out of the room and along the corridor.
‘What is it, Grace?’
‘I found something else. On Daley’s computer.’
‘What kind of something?’
‘It’ll be easier if I show you.’
Cody feels his impatience returning. He can’t help thinking that he’s going to explode at her if this turns out to be a waste of his time, when he could be in that interview room, turning Daley into mush.
Grace leads him over to her desk. Waits for him to take his place in front of her computer monitor.
‘I found this video,’ she says. ‘It’s not like the others, and it’s the only one. I thought you should see it.’
She leans forward. Clicks a file icon on her computer. A video file opens.
Cody peers at the dark image. It’s the school changing room again, but this time it’s empty. A long line of tinsel has been strung through the handles of the lockers. Cody checks the time on the recording, sees that it was made almost exactly a year ago.
‘Grace, what’s this—’
‘Watch.’
A rectangle of light expands across the image, then contracts again. A figure enters. Cody squints to work out who it is.
It’s Mary Cowper.
Mary stops at the lockers. Turns and waits, her chest heaving as though she has just run a mile.
Another figure comes into view. She is wearing a paper party hat. Another string of tinsel hangs around her neck.
It takes Cody a few seconds to work out that it’s the head teacher. Mrs Laplace.
He watches as the two figures come together. He sees Mrs Laplace reach out a hand to stroke Mary’s face. Mary seems uncertain at first, but then she tilts her head to the side, pressing her cheek into the palm of the other woman.
And then they are kissing. It goes on for a long time. Mrs Laplace brings a hand to Mary’s breast. Mary covers the hand with her own, keeping it there.
There is no audio on the recording, but it is clear that the women suddenly hear a sound. They rip away from each other, and both stare in the direction of whatever has startled them. Even in the dim light, the guilt and fear of detection are evident on Mary’s face. She starts to move away, back towards the door. Mrs Laplace grabs her arm, but Mary yanks it away and disappears out of shot. Mrs Laplace’s mouth opens in a guffaw that seems to surprise her. She brings a hand to her face to stifle the noise, then meanders drunkenly after Mary.
The rectangle of light grows again, shrinks again. The liaison is over.
The time span of the recording is only a few minutes.
But it’s everything.
‘Grace,’ says Cody, ‘that’s two kisses I owe you.’
50
Cody is back in the interview room. Eyes locked on to Daley, frying him with their intensity.
I know you, Daley. I know what you are.
He sits down. Resumes the interview. And already the leg is doing its jig. Daley is dancing his way to hell.
Cody announces, ‘I’m going to return to the subject of the videos.’
Prosser theatrically throws his hands up in despair.
‘And also the murders.’
Prosser loses the thread, much to Cody’s delight. ‘I’m sorry, what?’
‘This is about the videos, but more about the murders. We’ve linked the two. So what’s your advice now, Mr Prosser? Talk or not?’
Prosser’s face contorts as he wrestles with the logical dilemma.
He says, ‘Let’s hear what you’ve got.’
Cody reaches for the folder he has just brought into the room. The folder that holds the secret to ripping Daley apart at the seams.
He opens the folder. Uses his index finger to push the top photograph across to Daley.
‘Recognise this, Colin?’
Daley’s gaze strokes the photograph for a microsecond. He knows exactly what this is. Prosser and Webley, meanwhile, are united in their puzzlement at what the shadowy picture is telling them.
Says Cody, ‘For the benefit of the recording, I am showing Mr Daley a still image taken from a video on his computer. The image shows Mary Cowper and Mrs Laplace, the head of Oakdale School, kissing and fondling each other in the school changing rooms.’
Cody hears a slight gasp from Webley, a more pronounced intake of breath from Prosser.
‘Okay,’ says Prosser angrily. ‘I don’t know what you hoped to achieve, but there was absolutely no need for this melodrama. You could have shown this to me first. But since you didn’t, I have no alternative but to advise my client to resume his “no comment” replies.’
Cody keeps his eyes on Daley, annoying Prosser further by acting as though he’s not even in the room.
‘What about it, Colin? It’s pretty damning, isn’t it? It makes a liar out of you.’
‘I’m not a liar.’
‘Colin!’ says Prosser.
‘Really? You told us you knew nothing about Mary Cowper, especially when it came to her private life. This picture tells us you knew more than almost anyone else about her private life. I’d call that a lie, wouldn’t you?’
‘No. I couldn’t say. How could I tell you about it?’
From Prosser: ‘Colin, I would strongly urge you to—’
Cody turns Prosser into an irrelevance now. ‘Well, that’s just it. You couldn’t tell us, could you? Not being as guilty as you are. You knew something about Mary Cowper. Something that you found disgusting.’
‘No. Wait. I didn’t—’
‘See, I was wrong earlier. I admit it. I suggested that Mary might have been homophobic, and that she was doing her best to get Andy Puckleton to suppress his urges. But that wasn’t it. She was trying to help him, because she knew exactly what he was going through. She was trying to get him to come to terms with what he is, to reassure him that it’s okay. And you knew about that, didn’t you? You knew she was gay, and you hated her for it.’
‘No. I didn’t hate her. I’m not like that.’
‘It’s over for you, Colin. You’ve lied to us from start to finish, and you’ve made others lie for you too. You sneaked off home when we came to the school the first time, and you ran away on the second occasion. You endangered the life of a child—’
‘No.’
‘You have no alibis for the times of any of the three murders. A hammer just like the ones you admit to owning was used to kill the women—’
‘No. Please.’
‘And fishing weights just like the ones in your possession were left at the crime scenes. And, to top it all, now we have evidence of paedophilia and an undeniable link with Mary Cowper that you refused to mention. Doesn’t look good, does it, Colin? Looks to me like you need to think about how you’re going to say goodbye to your son.’
That does it for Daley. The threat of being separated from his only child is the trigger. He leaps to his feet.
‘NO! NO! NO!’ he yells.
Cody gets to his feet too, ready for this to become physical. But Prosser grabs his client by the sleeve.
‘Colin. Colin. It’s okay.’
Daley pulls his arm away. Tears are streaming down his cheeks.
‘I can’t help it,’ he says. ‘I can’t stop myself.’
Cody feels invisible fingers raking down the back of his neck. This is it. This is the confession. Come on, Colin.
The room goes deathly silent for a few seconds. Daley sits down again.
‘I can’t help what I am. It’s . . . it’s an obsession. I don’t hurt anyone. I don’t show those pictures to anyone else. And I’m not a murderer. I wouldn’t hurt a fly. You have to believe me.’
No, Colin. Don’t do this. The truth now. You owe us the truth.
But Daley presses on: ‘I’ve never met the other two women who were killed. And the only thing I knew about Mary was that she was gay. But I would never kill her because of it. I swear to you, on my life. The videos, yes. I took them—’
‘Colin,’ says Prosser, because it’s his job. But it’s a meek attempt, which he knows Daley will ignore.
‘I took them because I enjoy looking at them. And sometimes I hate myself for enjoying them. I feel dirty. It destroyed my marriage, and now I’ll probably go to prison for it. I understand that. I accept it. But please, not the murders. Not the murders.’
More silence while everyone processes this. It’s not what Cody expected, not what he wanted. It’s only a partial confession. Why is he not yet ready to give them the full story?
And yet . . .
Something is bothering Cody. Something that Daley has just said in his rant. What the hell was it?
‘I think,’ says Prosser, ‘that we could all do with a break. I hope that—’
‘Wait,’ says Cody. But he still doesn’t know why he’s asking. It’s there, on the tip of his mind. What is it?
‘Wait,’ he says again. Because now he knows. ‘What did you just say, Colin?’
‘What about?’
‘Your marriage. You said that your problems destroyed your marriage.’
Daley doesn’t reply. It’s clear he senses he’s in a net.
Webley has caught on. She continues Cody’s thought processes for him.
‘When we first came to see you, at your house, you told us that your wife was dead.’
‘Did I?’
‘Yes. Cancer, is what you told us.’
‘I . . . I had to make something up. I didn’t want you talking to Kate.’
‘Why not?’
‘She knew about me. She caught me looking at pictures on my computer. I tried to explain myself to her, but she didn’t want to listen. She was disgusted with me, and I don’t blame her. She couldn’t forgive me. She’s very religious, you see.’
The fingers along Cody’s spine again.
‘Religious? So when I asked you whether you knew anyone—’
‘Yes. My first thought was about Kate. But I could hardly say, could I?’
‘Tell me about it,’ says Cody. ‘What happened then, after she saw the pictures?’
‘Excuse me,’ says Prosser, ‘but is this relevant?’
Not for the first time in this room, Prosser is ignored.
‘Tell me,’ says Cody. He needs to hear this. This is important.
Daley shrugs, sniffs. ‘Not much to tell. She left me. Took little Ewan away with her. Said I wasn’t fit to look after him. Said I should never be allowed anywhere near kids. That really hurt. I’ll look at pictures, but I would never . . . you know . . .’
‘She didn’t tell the police or the school?’
‘I wasn’t working in a school back then. And, to be honest, I don’t think she wanted the shame of going public. She did say she’d report me if I ever tried to see Ewan.’
‘So how come he ended up living with you again?’
‘He turned up on the doorstep one day, a few months ago. He said he wanted to be with his dad again. I could
n’t believe it. I was made up.’
‘Did he say why?’
‘Not really. He was upset about something. I tried to get it out of him, but he refused to talk about it. All he would tell me was that it was something his mother had done to him. He kept calling her a complete hypocrite.’
And then it’s as though those invisible fingers dig their razor-sharp nails deep into Cody’s flesh. He feels physical pain between his shoulder blades.
Webley is the first to notice. ‘Cody, are you okay?’
‘What?’ says Cody, but to Daley, not to Webley. ‘What did you just say?’
‘A hypocrite. That’s what he called her. In fact, any time she came up in conversation, he would only refer to her as The Hypocrite. He was really angry with her.’
Oh, God, thinks Cody. Oh, my God.
‘Your lad’s school,’ he says. ‘What primary school did he go to?’
‘He was at Abbotsleigh. Look, I don’t understand. What’s this got to do—?’
But now it’s Cody’s turn to jump to his feet.
‘Cody,’ says Webley. ‘What’s—?’
‘Your wife. Kate. She’s about your age, right? About forty?’
‘Yeah, but—’
‘And she’s got shoulder-length fair hair?’
Daley stares at him. ‘How did you—?’
Cody pushes his notepad in front of Daley. Slams a pen down next to it.
‘Write down her address.’
‘Why? What’s she done? What are you—?’
‘Just write the fucking address!’
Cody has forgotten that this is still being recorded. It doesn’t matter. He doesn’t care that everyone in this room, plus Blunt watching on the monitors, thinks he’s completely lost the plot.
Cody snatches away the notepad. Hops out of the room, leaving utter confusion in his wake.
In the corridor, Webley comes running up behind him. Blunt appears from a doorway in front of him. Both start firing questions at him.
Says Blunt, ‘Cody, what the hell are you playing at?’
‘The fishing weights.’
‘What?’
‘The weights. Dante’s Inferno. Don’t you see?’
‘No. No, I don’t. You’re not making any sense.’
Cody doesn’t want to stand here and explain himself. He needs to get out there and do something to stop what’s coming.
Hope to Die: A gripping new serial killer thriller (The DS Nathan Cody series) Page 28
