Murder Mile drb-2

by Tony Black

  ‘So, have you had a chance to check out the file?’ said Brennan.

  ‘Aye, the trip was fine, Rob… Thanks for asking,’ Lorrimer smiled as he looked at the DI.

  Brennan returned the grin, ‘Sorry, we’re behind the eight ball here at the moment. You know how it gets on these cases…’

  Lorrimer turned his head towards the carpet tiles, said, ‘Well, I did wonder when you asked for me… I don’t remember you being so keen to share the load with anyone in the past. But to answer your question, yes Rob, I have seen the files you sent over.’

  Brennan was aware of the eyes in the office following them as he led the profiler through the room; he decided it might be best to keep their first meeting limited to invitations only. ‘On you go inside, Joe.’ He called out, ‘Stevie, Jim…’ he pointed to his room. ‘Any sign of Brian?’

  McGuire was leaning back in his chair, it creaked noisily as he sat forward, rose. ‘He did a late one last night, sir.’

  ‘OK, when you’re ready, please, the rest of you in here.’

  In Brennan’s office Lorrimer took the chair in front of the desk, Gallagher took the only other spare; McGuire pitched himself on the window ledge.

  ‘I’d like to introduce Joe Lorrimer,’ said Brennan. ‘Joe’s going to be helping us build a profile for the case, but before we go any further… Stevie, maybe you could fill Joe and Jim in on the morning’s latest developments.’

  McGuire was slouching on the ledge, straightened himself. ‘Yes, of course… We had a serology report back from the lab, we have a positive rare blood group ID from both scenes.’

  Gallagher slapped his thigh, ‘Confirmation then, that’s it!’

  Brennan gauged his reply, thinned eyes. ‘Certainly seems that way, Jim.’

  ‘It’s bloody cast-iron, you mean. What’s the blood group?’

  McGuire answered him: ‘It’s B.’

  ‘Jesus, rare as hobby horse shite that is.’

  ‘It’s a rare group,’ said Brennan. ‘And it does tie the two cases together but let’s not get carried away, it’s not a perp’ ID… we don’t have a smoking gun quite yet.’

  Gallagher seemed to take the statement as a slap down, he crossed his legs and ran a finger along the crease of his trousers. He remained quiet though looked to be desperate to speak up.

  Brennan said, ‘Right, Joe, sorry to throw you in at the deep end but do you have any initial findings you’d like to share with the group?’

  Lorrimer picked up his briefcase, balanced it on his knees and opened up; he removed two blue folders. He placed the folders on the top of the briefcase as he closed it again and leafed through the files. ‘Right.’ He removed a pen from his shirt pocket and tapped at the page he had selected. ‘If we’re progressing on the assumption that this is the work of one killer, then that ties in with my initial recce of the files. The signatures — the ligatures, torture, taking souvenirs — all look to be identical to me.’

  As Lorrimer paused, Gallagher spoke in a hushed voice. ‘And can you say anything about the person we’re looking for?’

  Brennan turned to Gallagher, his words lit a fuse in him. ‘This is no person, Jim… It’s a fucking animal we’re hunting.’

  Lorrimer raised his eyes from the notes, seemed to sense the animosity between the pair. He halted mid-stride for a moment, then adopted the role of mediator. ‘He’s a bit of both, I’d say, Rob.’ He patted the papers, ‘Look, there can be no doubt this is an extremely disturbed mind we’re dealing with here… The mutilation alone is worse than anything I’ve ever seen in my career, but the fact that it’s been carried out in your own backyard and there is next to nothing known about his MO five years down the track shows the level of intelligence we’re up against.’

  Brennan squirmed in his seat, brushed beneath his chin with his forefingers, said, ‘I wasn’t a part of the Fiona Gow investigation.’

  Gallagher’s eyes widened, burned into him.

  ‘Regardless,’ said Lorrimer, ‘what we have is a pattern killer who has evaded capture — twice. He’s obviously intelligent and resourceful and he’s going to be riding on a surge of confidence right now. That makes him more dangerous than ever.’ Lorrimer closed his file, tucked away the page he was looking at and returned the biro to his shirt pocket. ‘I don’t think we’ll have to wait another five years to see his next victim, Rob. We need to get this bastard… and soon.’

  Chapter 26

  DI Rob Brennan rose from his desk as his office emptied; he kept a close eye on Gallagher, followed him round the door, watched as his knees met on every step, his sloped shoulders rose and fell. At his desk he removed his chair, slid it silently on its runners over the carpet tiles and then lowered himself down with a sigh. He shuffled some papers, pulled a pen from his inside pocket and hunched himself over the middle portion of the broad desktop. Brennan had expected Gallagher to keep walking, head straight for the Chief Super’s office but he surprised him. Gallagher continued to surprise him, he couldn’t work the man out and that made him an unknown quantity. Brennan didn’t like the unknown, it was a threat to him. He liked facts. He liked the world to make sense, and though he knew that was impossible he tried to make his small part in it as facile as he could. He felt his brows tighten, his neck stiffen; there was a deep itch working in the centre of his brain. He wanted to locate it, remove it, but the option wasn’t there.

  Brennan turned to face Joe Lorrimer who was standing, briefcase in hand, as the DI drew his gaze back towards the inside of the office. The room looked suddenly smaller than he remembered.

  ‘So, where do you want me, Rob?’ said Lorrimer.

  Brennan waved a hand over his shoulder, in the direction of Incident Room One, ‘Find yourself a spot; Stevie will sort you out with anything you need.’

  The profiler nodded, stuck a finger in his collar and stretched his tie loose; he was looking out to the open-plan room when he spoke, ‘I don’t want to speak out of turn, mate… But do I sense some tensions on the team?’

  A tut. Brennan pitched himself on his toes, he raised his hands on his hips and stretched out his back. As he walked towards the back window, the chimney stacks and rooftops made a jagged saw blade against the grey sky. ‘Nothing I can’t handle,’ he said.

  ‘It’s not you I’m worried about, Rob.’

  ‘Meaning?’ The harshness of his voice surprised him, seemed to echo in his ears.

  ‘An unhappy team doesn’t get results,’ said Lorrimer.

  Brennan let his brain settle, absorb the words he was hearing and try to — if not process them — at least store them away for attention at a later date. There was nothing to be gained in the job from letting others know what was on his mind, even people he trusted. He took Lorrimer’s concern as genuine, he had known him from his early days in CID and rated his abilities; he had hand-picked him for the role of profiler on his team and he understood his misgivings. The investigation was proving difficult enough without any added problems. Brennan turned away from the window, walked back towards the door to his office, pushed it closed, and turned to face Lorrimer. ‘Can I get straight to the point?’ he said.

  ‘Of course. I wish you would,’ Lorrimer grinned, scratched the side of his nose.

  ‘I could do without the third wheel, to be honest.’

  ‘Gallagher you mean?’

  Brennan gnawed at his lip, ‘Got it in one.’ He rested himself on the edge of the desk, folded his arms.

  ‘I take it you never asked for him on the team, then?’

  ‘He clawed his way in, and I’m far from convinced we need him but he has the ear of Benny.’

  Lorrimer tilted his head to the side, put out a palm, ‘Benny?’

  ‘Chief Superintendent Bernard Hill… He has it in his head, or should I say Gallagher put it in his head, that because he worked on the Fiona Gow case five years ago his experience is invaluable to us.’

  ‘But you disagree?’

  Brennan huffed, unfolded his arms an
d patted down his pockets. ‘I can read case files, Joe. I don’t need a…’

  ‘… Third wheel. I heard you.’

  The DI leaned back on his desk, retrieved a packet of Embassy Regal and a plastic lighter from beside his blotter. Pocketed them both. ‘I don’t like the way he operates, he’s got his eye on taking the investigation off me and he’s all over Benny like a hot fucking rash.’

  Lorrimer lowered his brows, his tone seemed to drop in the same proportion. ‘Are you sure this wouldn’t be about something else, Rob?’

  ‘What do you mean?’ Brennan felt his stare cut into Lorrimer.

  ‘I heard about you and Joyce…’

  The mention of his wife’s name stung, it was a shock to hear her brought into the conversation. He had been used to his personal life being put under the microscope at the station since his brother’s death but the fact that it had happened in the past didn’t lessen the impact on this occasion. Brennan looked up to the ceiling tiles, pinned back his smile. ‘Bloody Charlie never misses a trick… Tell you on the way in did he?’

  Lorrimer kept his gaze firmly fixed on the DI, shrugged his shoulders. ‘I’m sorry, if it’s any consolation.’

  Brennan bit, ‘ I’m not, if it’s any consolation.’ He turned round, the wooden desk creaked as he raised himself from its edge, faced the profiler. ‘Look, Gallagher’s stepping on my toes, that’s all it is, Joe.’

  Lorrimer didn’t seem to buy it; he looked convinced that there was another explanation lurking beneath the surface of Brennan’s bluster. ‘You said yourself that he worked on the Fiona Gow case, Rob…’

  ‘And?’

  ‘I’m just saying, that must have been a hard case to work. He couldn’t have been pleased to see the trail run cold…’ Lorrimer massaged his wrist, ran a finger over the face of his watch. ‘Maybe he’s looking to make up for that lack of a result now, maybe he sees his chance and is a bit over anxious. Ever thought of that?’

  Brennan removed his packet of cigarettes, drew one out and put it in his lips. ‘Maybe.’

  ‘You’re not buying that though?’

  Brennan made a half smile, tapped his stomach, ‘I’m listening to this.’

  Lorrimer took a step towards him, raised a finger, tapped on Brennan’s head. ‘Just don’t let it interfere with that, eh.’

  The DI smirked. ‘Aye, sure…’ he turned for the door, ‘Going for a smoke now, Joe… But, there is one thing you can do for me.’

  Lorrimer tipped back his head, ‘What’s that?’

  He held the handle, rammed it down, but kept the door closed as he flicked his head towards the wider room, ‘Gallagher’s been doing a fair bit of time over in your neck of the woods, some gangland stabbings I believe, can you ask around?’

  ‘Rob…’ he tightened his features. ‘I’m not conducting a witch hunt for you.’

  ‘Who said anything about a witch hunt?… I’m just looking for a few folks’ impressions of him.’

  Lorrimer looked away, seemed unsure but obviously wanted to calm the waters between them. ‘I’m promising nothing.’

  Brennan opened the door, the hinges sang out. ‘Time for that smoke, I think.’

  In the corridor, Brennan glanced towards the Chief Super’s office; the door sat open and his secretary was already battering away at a keyboard but there was no sign of Benny. The DI felt relieved; he could only evade him for so long though and he knew that when he did finally encounter the Chief Super he would have to explain why he had brought in Lorrimer when the force was owed the services of a profiler from Northern Constabulary. Brennan didn’t want to be treated to another lecture on the perilous state of the nation’s finances, he didn’t want to be told about budgets and cost savings and economy drives. He had a murderer to catch and he would do that the best way he saw fit, without running to Benny every time he needed a petrol receipt stamped or a stationery requisition put through. He was a detective, not a micro-manager.

  At the front desk Charlie sat hunched over a copy of the News, he had an involved look on his face, eyes slit behind his reading glasses, but when he spotted Brennan he rose from his seat and flattened his palms on the counter. ‘I was just about to buzz you,’ his voice pitched high like a child’s.

  ‘Oh, aye,’ said Brennan. ‘Sounds ominous.’

  Charlie flashed the tip of his tongue through the tiny aperture of his pinched mouth as he turned over the newspaper. He folded the middle seam and pointed to an article that covered a whole page.

  ‘Jesus Christ,’ said Brennan; he felt the skin prickling on his face. There was a picture of the Sloans — they were holding a photograph of their daughter Lindsey.

  Charlie leaned forward, rested on his elbows, said, ‘And you’ve not even read it yet!’

  Brennan picked up the article, his thoughts had started to play tag with the possibilities. He looked over the paper’s edge, ‘What does it say, Charlie?’

  ‘Everything…’ He cleared his throat, tapped on the page. ‘Says they were told about the bastard’s handiwork… the mutilation, the hacking, the strangulation… Leaves nothing out, pretty bloody gory read if you ask me.’

  Brennan felt his hand rising to his mouth, he touched his face but everything had started to feel unreal to him now. All he could think of was the Sloans and how they must feel to have been given that knowledge, to understand that their daughter’s last moments on the Earth had been spent being tortured. ‘Where the hell have they got that?’

  ‘Pathologist…’

  ‘Pettigrew, that what it fucking says?… I’ll hang him out to dry.’

  Charlie pressed his weight to one side, the counter sighed beneath him, ‘Might have been a flunkey, they’ve had some bother getting the right folk down there. Not a job I’d fancy myself it has to be said.’

  Brennan started to switch off to Charlie, he was filtering the information he needed but there was very little of that. He had watched Charlie’s enthusiasm to deliver a new turn of events, a fresh tale, and when he had removed all he could that was of worth to him he started to scan the article. The newspaper’s layout highlighted the most salient comments.

  ‘ Lindsey was gagged and bound when they found her, when they examined her they found her private parts had been removed with a knife. ’

  The quote was attributed to Mr Sloan.

  Brennan felt his pulse quicken, he knew none of this was going to help the family. Why had the paper done it? He knew none of this was going to help the case either, or him. He had managed to keep the investigation’s details out of the press so far, he knew that any reporting would inflame the situation, create panic. The public could sometimes be a help in such instances — with sightings, backgrounds — but more often than not they were a hindrance. He didn’t want to be weighed down with cranks or have women scared to walk the streets. He didn’t want to read sensationalist headlines from editors who wanted to sell newspapers based on gory updates and he didn’t want to run a phalanx of hacks following his every move either. There was also the Chief Super to consider; he didn’t want to give Benny any more reasons to question his handling of the investigation.

  Brennan looked up from the News page, saw Charlie staring out to the car park. He started to fold up the paper, slapped it down on the desk. ‘Has Benny seen this yet?’

  Charlie slit his eyes slightly, dipped his chin. ‘I haven’t a clue. But you can ask him that yourself, Rob. Here he is parking up now.’

  Chapter 27

  DI Rob Brennan watched the back of the Chief Super’s heels as he ascended the staircase with the copy of the News he had taken from Charlie. He didn’t seem to be lifting his feet high enough, it looked like there was hardly the strength in his legs for the task as he kicked the rim of every other step and stumbled on. He made sighs and repeated outbursts of ‘Jesus Christ Almighty’ as he read the Sloans’ interview; twice he halted in his stride and smacked the newspaper off his leg. At the top landing he turned to Brennan, thinned his eyes and forced the news
paper into his hands without a word. As he strode down the corridor towards his office he seemed to have discovered a new purpose in his steps — each foot thudding like heavy artillery fire on the carpet.

  Brennan clasped the paper, folded it over and turned it under his arm. As he followed the Chief Super he tried to devise a stratagem to deal with the inevitable backlash that was coming his way, but his mind seemed strangely blank. On the one hand, Brennan sympathised with the Chief Super — he didn’t want to see this kind of thing in the press either. But on the other hand, he wasn’t prepared to give Benny an excuse to attack his handling of the case. Brennan hadn’t seen this coming; he hadn’t warned the Sloans that talking to the media might hamper the investigation at this delicate juncture, but then they hadn’t been very voluble when

  they appeared at the station. The idea that they would suddenly bare their souls to the press mystified the DI.

  Brennan followed the Chief Super into his office, closed the door behind them. He watched as Benny removed his officer’s cap and placed it on the desk, then slapped down a pair of black leather gloves. He leaned forward, put his hands on the desk and nodded Brennan to sit. As he manoeuvred himself into the chair Brennan felt his heart rate increase with the thought of the impending attack.

  Benny sighed, shook his head. ‘This really is the last straw, Rob.’

  Brennan remained calm, there was nothing to be gained from sparking up or drawing down the defensive portcullis too soon. He had been in this situation before, with more brutal task masters than Benny, but he knew his position was precarious now. It had been precarious after the overtime breach, then worse after he had brought in Lorrimer, but the News revelation now made things perilous.

  ‘It’s as much a surprise to me as it is to you, sir,’ said Brennan.