Simone hoped the officers had already asked the question and recorded the evidence. ‘Did you scratch him at all?’
‘No, he was covered up, there wasn’t anything to scratch and besides, I’m a nail bitter, I can’t scratch an itch.’
‘Covered up? How?’
‘He was wearing a mask. It looked tatty and like it was made of cloth, it was pale and freaky. Ghostlike with cut outs for the eyes and mouth.’
‘If its okay with you, I’d like to send a sketch artist round here today so we can get an idea of what that mask looks like.’
‘No problem; I’ll be here all day.’
‘The mask is as much for effect as disguise. I can’t tell you how brave you are fighting back like that.’
She shrugged as if it was no big deal but her eyes betrayed her and it was clear her cool exterior was just a facade. ‘I should imagine it’s been pretty chaotic over the last few days.’
‘You can say that again,’ said Simone.
‘I hope this is helpful, especially if it’s the same person.’
They stood to leave. ‘Thanks for contacting us again. It’s amazing how much information can get forgotten.’
‘I’ll show you out,’ said Christine and led them towards the front door still clutching her child.
Simone asked, ‘What’s the baby’s name?’
‘Ethan.’
‘He’s a quiet one.’
‘You couldn’t be more wrong about that; he’s got a massive pair of lungs on him. We had him Christened only a few weeks ago and he nearly brought the whole bloody church down the entire time.’ She looked at her child with the loving eyes of a new mum and shifted him in her arms. ‘I can’t believe how long he’s been asleep.’
‘Must be the heat.’
And then, as if on cue Ethan’s eyes opened and his face instantly screwed up as he began to whimper and then his mouth opened and he began to cry. Loudly.
‘I see what you mean,’ said West between the shrieks and screams, they said goodbye and left the house. They could still hear the child even in the car.
‘Brave girl,’ said Simone. ‘Strong though, athletic and fast too, he picked the wrong one there, nothing about her said victim. Nothing.’
‘She was lucky. If he’d managed to smother her it wouldn’t have mattered how strong she was, she’d be finished.’
‘He made a mistake that night and got away with it. Unfortunately for Victoria he got it right the next time.’
8
The station was buzzing with activity when they returned from Hannah Zaragoza’s house. Jackson walked into West’s temporary office. ‘Updates?’ he said, he was clearly stressed and looked tired, West in contrast seemed calm and collective, he was on edge but seemed to be in full control.
‘We’ve just got back from interviewing Hannah Zaragoza. Simone has organised for a sketch artist to go round there today but she said his face was covered by a mask.’
‘It was distinctive,’ said Simone feeling the need to defend her actions after suddenly realising how silly it sounded; arranging to send an artist to a witness’s house to sketch a masked man. ‘Zaragoza said it was made of tatty cloth, with cut-outs for eyeholes. Someone may have seen it laying around and recognise it.’
‘You think it’s the same man?’ said Jackson.
‘I’d bet my tiny salary on it,’ West said.
Simone noticed Jackson was holding a folder. ‘Do we have the forensics report on the Redman corpse yet?’
Jackson nodded and passed her the folder and as she opened it he paraphrased its contents for them. ‘The girl died from massive blood loss due to the fact that the bastard sliced her face off. She was alive when it happened; most likely bound with thin rope; bruising on her arms, wrists and ankles is consistent with such bindings. The coroner believes a curved blade was used; apparently there were characteristic scratches on the bone.’
Simone flicked to the autopsy photographs while Jackson continued. ‘The same blade was used to carve the word ‘sow’ into her back.’
‘S-o-w?’ said West.
Jackson nodded. Simone passed the photographs to West one by one; close ups of Victoria Redman’s back, the letters hacked into her flesh in deep straight lines.
‘Sow; a female pig,’ said Simone. ‘Woman hater?’
‘Maybe,’ West said thoughtfully. ‘Was she sexually assaulted?’ he said to Jackson.
‘No, she wasn’t.’
‘Small mercy. What about trace evidence?
‘Some,’ said Jackson, ‘notably limestone dust all over her skin and hair, she also had splashes of dried candlewax on her skin and on the back of her hands.’
‘Was there anything unusual about the candlewax?’
‘No, it was just white, unscented candlewax.’
‘Anything else?’
‘There were traces of ethanol and sulphuric acid in her bloodstream; they’re the basic ingredients used to make a delightful little cocktail called diethyl ether. It’s likely he used it to render her unconscious.’
‘What does ether smell like?’ asked Simone.
‘No idea; I’ll find out for you.’
‘Hannah Zaragoza said the man that attacked her tried to smother her with a foul smelling rag as she fought him off.’
‘Brave but lucky too, if he’d got her with that she wouldn’t have stood a chance,’ Jackson said. He turned to leave but changed his mind. ‘How’s your father?’ he said to West.
‘Not doing so good.’
‘I’m sorry to hear that. I appreciate your input on this West.’
West ignored Jackson’s sympathy. ‘I think we should bring Rupert James in for questioning.’
‘The one who found the Redman girl?’
‘Yeah, he didn’t do it but he’s hiding something.’
‘Do you want to talk to him?’
‘Not necessarily, get someone to sweat him for a while, see what comes out. He may have seen more than he’s willing to admit. The time frame seems wrong, I think he was bullshitting us because the wife might find out about what he gets up to in the woods at night.’
‘I got the feeling she knows exactly what his nocturnal habits are,’ said Simone, ‘and that she may be involved.’
‘Sounds to me like they’re more bothered about what the neighbours will think than they are helping us catch a killer,’ said Jackson as he headed for the door. ‘I’ll have James here this afternoon.’ He left and as the door clicked shut West sat down with a sigh, tipped his head back and massaged the bridge of his nose.
‘You tired?’ she said.
‘A bit, there’s a lot going on.’ He took his lighter out and started to flick the lid back and forth.
Click, ting, snap.
‘I don’t know how you manage,’ she said.
‘There’s always a lot going on. It’s the distractions that are the hardest to deal with. Focus is everything.’
‘Still, I’m impressed.’
‘Don’t be.’
She sat down with the autopsy report and started to thumb through it. She made notes on a pad as she read.
Limestone
Curved blade
The word: sow
Candlewax
Ethanol+Sulphuric acid. Diethyl ether?
West tapped the table quickly, impatiently, drawing her attention from the report. She heard him say, ‘Focus,’ quietly to himself and he chewed his bottom lip quickly before jumping up. ‘Listen, Simone, I’m going to take an early lunch; I’ve got some things to take care of.’
‘Okay.’
‘Do you want me to get you anything while I’m out?’
‘No, I’m good.’
‘See you later,’ he said and in a blink he was gone.
Simone spent some time sifting through the report and making notes and when she finished she tossed it on the desk and went for a coffee. She was in the main office chatting with Lucy when she thought she caught sight of Mr James being escorted to the interv
iew rooms. It was just a fleeting glimpse but it was enough for her to follow their direction. Jackson was already in the viewing room when she entered.
‘You got my message?’ he said.
‘No sir, I saw him from across the office.’ She nodded in the direction of Mr James and they watched him take a seat though the viewing pane. ‘You got him here quick enough.’
‘It had nothing to do with me Connelly. He came in on his own accord.’
‘Really? That’s interesting.’
‘Where’s West?’
‘He had some things to take care of but he’ll be back soon.’ Simone tried not to make it sound like she was making excuses for him. Jackson grumbled to himself but let it go. Simone knew Jackson was well aware that even though West was coping with extreme circumstances he was giving his time to the case and leniency was the only fair option. West didn’t need to take any of Jackson’s bullshit and Jackson knew it. West could easily walk away from the case if he wanted and not suffer any repercussions from the top brass.
West arrived back at the station shortly after the interview with James had ended. Jackson made no comment on the amount of time West had taken but his sentences were clipped; amounted to little more than: ‘You missed the interview.’ And ‘Get Connelly to fill you in on the details.’
Simone directed West swiftly into their office because not only could she see in his eyes that West didn’t give a shit about Jackson’s attitude towards him but because she could smell the sweet musk of burnt wood on his clothes, skin and hair and she didn’t want anyone else to notice it.
Simone sat on the desk and West reclined in his seat and said, ‘So tell me, what was James hiding and why did he spill his guts without being squeezed?’
‘Very little of what he originally told us was true and our instincts were pretty much bang on.’
‘Go on.’
‘Mr and Mrs James have an appetite for alfresco sex and whereas you or I may find Bishop’s Thorpe Wood to be a fairly spooky place to be in the dead of night, the James’s use it as their second bedroom. They like to be, and I quote, ‘Deep in the woods, amongst the trees.’’
‘Forget dogging in the car park.’
‘That’s something they also indulge in, but only occasionally apparently.’
‘Different strokes for different folks.’
‘They were in the woods on the night they found Redman’s corpse, they were mid-coitus when a man appeared from the darkness and watched their indulgences. They knew he was there but it didn’t stop them, they’ve been watched before and James is sure it’s always by the same man. He never usually speaks or gets particularly close to them and he never touches himself or makes any effort to join in. He just covers his face with his hand and watches silently. If that’s not strange I don’t know what is.’
‘Usually. You said he never usually speaks or gets close to them.’
‘Well, considering they didn’t know what they were going to find later on they didn’t think the evening to be unusual in any way except that this time the man came closer than ever before and squatted down on his haunches while he watched them. They finished and he left as silently as he arrived.’
‘Description.’
‘Sketchy at best; he was dressed entirely in black, with a hooded top and a baseball cap and he kept his face covered with his hand. James couldn’t describe him any better than that.’
‘Fucking great. What about the body?’
‘As if their behaviour wasn’t strange enough it turns out that they also took Chester the dog with them. They were telling the truth about that. They tied him to a tree while they romped on a picnic blanket and then afterwards they finished his walk by torch light. The dog finds the corpse and goes mental - ’
‘Whereupon they shit themselves,’ said West, ‘but know they’ll have to report it, so they concoct a flimsy story in the hope the neighbours won’t find out about the things they get up to at night.’
She nodded. ‘It’s pretty much as we suspected, but you asked why he chose to spill his guts voluntarily.’
‘Go on.’
‘Pure fear. They’ve been on edge since Mrs James discovered something in her jacket pocket earlier this morning when she went to wash it.’
West sat forward in his chair, Simone waited, holding his attention. They both knew she was deliberately teasing him with the details of the interview.
‘It was the jacket she wore into the woods that night,’ she said, ‘the one that was strewn on the ground where our voyeur squatted down to watch the show. It’s put the fear of God into them and I can see why.’
‘What did she find?’
She waited a beat, relishing West’s focus. ‘A human tooth. One of the front ones; an incisor to be precise.’ She tapped her own for effect. ‘He slipped it silently into her pocket like a gift.’
‘Where is it now?’
‘The lab. Don’t worry; it’s top priority.’
‘Is it Redman’s?’
‘One hundred per cent no. All Redman’s teeth were intact.’
‘He may be more experienced than we first thought.’
Simone agreed just as the phone rang, startling them both. West snatched it from its cradle and put it on speakerphone, it was Jackson. ‘You wanted to know what ether smells like,’ he said.
‘Go on.’
‘It’s sweet, but foul, like rotten cabbage.’
West looked at Simone. ‘Sounds familiar,’ he said. ‘Is it easy to make?’
‘With the right ingredients unfortunately so, but it’s nasty stuff.’
‘Zaragoza said the rag smelt sweet. It’s definitely our man. We need to know what industries and hobbies, if any, use those chemicals.’
‘I agree; I’ll get some people on it.’
‘We also don’t know our killer’s agenda so it might be worth organising protection for the James house.’
‘I’m ahead of you West; it’s already in hand.’
He hung up and they sat in silence for a while, Simone looked at West he seemed a lot calmer since he had returned and she considered mentioning the smell of smoke that clung to West’s clothes but decided against it. She could guess what he had been doing and was surprised he hadn’t made more of an effort to cover it up; she trusted he no longer posed the sort of danger he used to when he was younger.
Starting fires was his one true vice; it was an addiction that plagued him from youth and had shaped the direction of his life.
And Simone’s too.
The Origin of the Tooth:
Part 1
Faces - 1979 to 1994
After tracking his mother for weeks the Ghost now found himself outside a rundown social club hidden somewhere in the Birmingham suburb of Aston. He leant against a wall and waited for her to finish with her clients.
He was surprised at the amount of business a one-eyed, junkie prostitute managed to get, but as she led client after client into the narrow darkness of a piss-soaked alley by the side of the social club he had time to consider that when working in the world’s oldest vocation the professional is required to know ones clientele and not to overcharge.
Music played loudly from inside the club and one song in particular was so apt it was as if fate was controlling his destiny. He listened to the crowd inside drunkenly singing the chorus to an old pop song. The tune churned his stomach and repressed memories flooded back from when the song was new and he was just a small boy.
*
All smiles she was but not to him. His mother wore two faces - one for the public; painted and kind, and one for when they were alone. Only he saw the face with the furrowed brow and the gnashing teeth. Only he felt the heavy hands that slapped the backs of his legs and head and he quickly learnt to run when she was in one of her moods, taking cover in his bedroom knowing the weekend would come too soon and with it time spent alone with the man she called Uncle Derek.
He was a lonely and solitary child and against all better judgement tried
to spend time with his mother but she acknowledged his existence enough only to feed him a few times a week, usually as a reward for staying out of the way when her friends came over, the rest of the time he was forced to fend for himself; sustaining himself on leftovers and scraps from the bin.
The boy’s hair was long and his mother made sure it stayed that way because Uncle Derek liked it like that. They teased him at school because of it, they cornered him and pushed him around, and they told him he looked like a girl. Sometimes he fought back and fights erupted causing the teachers to notice and call his mother into the school.
His mother wore her public face as she floated through the corridors on the way to the headmaster’s office. She was whiter than fresh snow; painted and innocent. Her façade was the perfectly crafted illusion of a concerned mother called into the school to learn what was going on with her troubled boy. She sat across from the headmaster and the head teacher and expertly wove her invisible veil of lies and deceit.
The boy sat next to her and remained silent throughout her performance.
Firstly she registered her surprise at being called into the school. Then she struggled to explain her son’s actions and her incomprehension as to what would make him lash out in the way that he did. She deftly slipped into the role of character witness and explained how unlike him it was, and how he’s normally such a quiet, gentle boy. Then finally she turned it around and, with expert precision began to blame everyone else; it must have been retaliation, was he being bullied? Was it because he was an only child from a broken home? Why wasn’t the school doing more? Why wasn’t the school looking out for him?
The teachers were sympathetic to her situation and shared her concerns for her son’s wellbeing but unfortunately it didn’t change what he had done. She accepted their comments and valued their opinions and then lavished them with apologies for his actions and assured them she was confident, that with their help she could keep her troublesome son under control.
Afterwards she took the boy to the car and he sat quietly as they drove. She spoke to him in a flat and serious voice, she was angry with him and yet he couldn’t understand why. All he ever wanted was to make her happy and he always tried to do whatever she asked of him.
Nothing but Meat: A dark, heart-stopping British crime thriller Page 8
