by J. D. Weston
“He’s losing it.”
“Twenty-four hours.”
“He should have called it in and passed it on to someone else.”
“He’s too stubborn.”
“He wants the case to himself.”
“He’s been chasing the guy for months.”
“The chief is going to rip him a new arse.”
“He didn’t even get the guy’s name.”
The desk phone startled him, and he snatched up the handset without even considering who was calling. His hands were still shaking from the accident he had nearly caused only thirty minutes before and the ensuing argument with the arrogant driver of the refuse truck who had slammed on his brakes.
“DI Myers,” he said, praying it wasn’t her.
“My office, two minutes.”
The room had hushed. Even the tapping of keyboards had stopped. But as Myers slowly replaced the handset, the hum, click, and tap began to grow in volume, as if the noise was coming from an old, glass-topped record player like Myers’ dad used to have, with the big volume and tuner dials on the front.
“Sir?” said Fox from the desk opposite.
“Have we had any more lab results back yet?” asked Myers, not wishing to hear her bleating questions so early in the morning. Fox would be a good detective one day. Not yet. She needed to slow down. But if Myers was going to get himself out of the hole he was in, he needed a strong partner, not some girl fresh out of training. He needed results.
“DNA found on Jennifer Standing’s clothes belongs to Faisal Hussein, sir. I sent the samples from the unknown suspect back to the lab to be re-analysed. Maybe they made a mistake.”
“The silent man,” said Myers.
“Is that what you’re calling him?”
“Well, we don’t have a name. The lab rarely makes mistakes. Even if the lab comes back with positive results, we have no way of finding him. It’s a mess, Fox, and Allenby is going to chew my arse.”
“Let her chew it. You know you did your best, sir,” said Fox, hearing Myers’ disenchantment and returning to tap out her report on her keyboard.
“Why don’t we know about this guy?” said Myers, more to himself than to Fox. She looked around her screen once more to humour Myers’ frustrations and he continued airing his thoughts. “I mean, you saw Faisal Hussein, right?”
“Yes, sir.”
“You saw how he was pinned to the tree?”
“I’ve been seeing it ever since, sir. I can’t shake the image.”
“That wasn’t this guy’s first time. The first time is sloppy, it’s rushed, and they make mistakes. I’ve seen it before. It’s textbook. But this? No. This was the work of a pro. He was there when Hussein brought the girl in or the choppers would have seen him. He watched and waited.”
“Waited, sir?”
“Until Hussein was about to hurt the girl,” said Myers, allowing the scene to play out in his mind.
“You mean he watched him…”
“Yes,” said Myers, and the scene became more vivid. “He watched. He wanted to see it. He wanted to see the pleasure on Hussein’s face. He wanted to see the excitement.”
“Why? I mean, why would he wait for that? There were police everywhere.”
“What if he had a debt to pay?”
“Money, sir? I don’t follow.”
“Not money. What if the guy had a debt to pay? What if he’s some kind of…”
He stopped, unable to bring himself to say the word.
“Vigilante, sir?”
Myers nodded, knowing how crazy it sounded.
“And he pays that debt to society by bringing people like Hussein down?”
Her tone was mocking, and the last thing Myers wanted was for the rest of the office to hear.
“Just leave it, Fox.”
“Sir-”
“Don’t say it. I know.”
“If you mention that to Allenby, sir, she’ll have you signed off and you’ll be having daily chats with the psychiatrist.”
“Well what do you think, Fox? I can’t seem to find any other motive,” said Myers, and raised a blue file in the air, then slapped it down on his desk. “Six men. All known sex offenders. All linked to one man. And guess what? They’re all dead.”
“Linked to one man, sir?”
He’d said too much, having prepared himself for Allenby’s chat, which would be just as thrilling.
“I’ve been working on this case for months, Fox. You’ve been here five minutes.”
“But if you have a lead, sir, maybe I can help.”
“I don’t have a lead. If I had a lead, you’d be researching it. All I have is a gut feeling.”
“So, tell me.”
He sighed. “When I have something concrete, Allenby will assign me a DS. Maybe that will be you. Maybe it won’t. Until then…”
His phone rang again, and he ignored it. He knew who it was.
“So, you think each of the victims-”
“They weren’t victims, Fox. They were sex offenders.”
She raised her eyebrows in surprise at his tone. “You think that one man killed them all and, because they were all linked to one other man, that it’s some kind of sex ring?”
The pieces came together and the motive fit the idea. But to convey that to Allenby would be professional suicide. Proposing a vigilante was like playing the joker card. It was an easy way out and Myers knew it.
“Well,” he said as he pushed back his chair, “if you can think of a better idea, I’m all ears.”
He left her with the conundrum and carried his file to Allenby’s office.
The door to Allenby’s office was closed, but Myers heard the order to enter before he’d even knocked, and he saw her straightening a pile of paperwork through a gap in the window blind.
“Close the door, Myers,” she said without looking up.
She didn’t offer him a seat. Instead, she left him waiting. It was a power play he’d seen at least three other chief inspectors try in the same office and from the same cheap desk. He knew how to ride the wait. He wondered if she used similar techniques at home. She had a husband called Clive. Myers had spoken to him once at a gala dinner. He’d seemed okay on his own but shied in his wife’s presence, which emphasised Myers’ image of her ruling the household with her trouser suits and neckerchiefs.
Maybe she told Clive when he should enter the bedroom and made him wait like a naughty schoolboy?
Myers was professional enough to conceal the smile that was creeping onto his face.
“Twenty-four hours,” she said. “Twenty-four hours and not a single word left his lips.”
Myers said nothing. He knew it was always better to be invited to speak rather than anger the beast.
“In that twenty-four hours, you didn’t let a single other detective question him. Not one. Not even Carver, for God’s sake, and he’s more experienced than you.”
Myers let her rant. It would be over soon, and he could go about his day.
“Talk me through it,” she said, and sat back. That was his invitation to speak.
“The suspect was caught walking down Jennifer Standing’s street near to her parents’ house shortly after she arrived home.”
“That’s right,” said Allenby. “Tell me something that isn’t in the report.”
“He was brought in on a potential abduction charge before we found Hussein’s body.”
“And you couldn’t charge him for murder?”
“With what evidence?” said Myers. “If we’d have brought him in on a murder charge, we’d have needed something to keep him here. All we have is him being in the same area as an unharmed girl who arrived home safely.”
“So why did you keep him for twenty-four hours?”
“We were waiting for the lab results to come back.”
“Oh no, don’t play the we game. This is your case. You didn’t let anyone else in. This is all you, Myers.”
“I was waiting. I gave Fox the ord
er to wait and I held him here. She’s new. She doesn’t know the lay of the land yet.”
“Despite my direct order to go out and find something to keep him here?” said Allenby.
It didn’t matter which way Myers spun the story, she would always have a comeback. So he went with it.
“I had Fox check the body. It was a professional job.”
“A what?”
“A professional job. Fox is writing up the report as we speak.”
“Do you mean it was a professional hit, Myers? Next you’ll be telling me the mafia killed a sex offender.”
“Not organised crime, ma’am,” said Myers. He knew she was trying to get him riled and flustered, another tactic that senior police officers used to test their detectives. “At least I don’t think so. But the kill was professional. This wasn’t his first time.”
“Tell me more.”
“There’s no trace of him for a start. No fingerprints, no footprints, no DNA.”
“Could have been lucky.”
“There was no struggle, no skin beneath Hussein’s nails, and the kill was precise. Like a surgeon. Hussein didn’t stand a chance.”
“And what about Jennifer Standing? Did you find-”
“Nothing. He was clean.”
“No hair? No DNA of any description? Nothing else?”
“We swabbed him all over.”
“And Hussein?”
“Faisal Hussein was found naked. There was no trace of Jennifer Standing on his body. I have reason to believe that our man didn’t let him get that far.”
“How far did he let him go?”
“Jennifer Standing was physically unharmed. But only Jennifer knows what he did prior to being stopped.”
“What do you think happened?”
“It’s common for predators like Hussein to masturbate in front of their victims. They like to show themselves. It excites them. They often have a complex, a hang up about their body that prevents them from seeking sexual partners the way the rest of society does. Showing off their body to their victims forms a kind of release.”
“You don’t need to preach the psychiatry books to me,” said Allenby, maintaining her grasp at the top of the chain. Then she offered him a taste. “Is that why he was naked?”
“I believe so, ma’am. I think Jennifer Standing was tied to a tree. I think she was forced to watch Hussein dig a hole for her body.”
“In front of her?”
Myers nodded. “He would have enjoyed her watching him dig her grave.”
“So, what’s your next move?” asked Allenby.
“Forensics are working the site and the surrounding area. Our man must have left a mark somewhere. When we have it, we’ll go after him on a murder charge.”
“Talk to DI Carver. He knows the organised crime world better than they do,” said Allenby. “And Hussein? What are your plans?”
She eyed the file in his hand.
“Can I see?”
“This is just a theory I’m working on.”
Her expression was unmoving. There was no way he was getting out of there without her seeing the entire file and not just the parts he was prepared to share. He opened the file and slid the report on Faisal Hussein out of it.
“Previous offences of Faisal Hussein include-”
“Give me the file, Myers.”
He slid Hussein’s report back inside the blue folder and passed the file to her. She made a show of pulling her glasses on and reached for her pen from a ridiculous pen pot shaped like a monkey wearing a circus suit and holding a drum.
Her eyebrows raised once or twice. She bit her lower lip and then she slammed the file shut and placed it in front of her on the desk.
“This has to stop, Myers.”
“Ma’am-” he said, knowing full well where she was going.
“Rashid Al Sheik is the counsellor for the East London labour party. He is not at the centre of what you note as a paedophile sex ring. He is an upstanding member of our community-”
“But, ma’am-”
“Who has already lodged both harassment and racism complaints about you.”
“I know-”
“I didn’t ask you to speak, Myers.”
The entire office would have heard that outburst. Myers sighed and felt his hands wander to his pockets.
“Can’t you give me anything else other than Rashid Al Sheik? It’s been months.” She dropped the file into a plastic container by the wall. From there, it would be taken, scanned, and then destroyed. “I need something else. I need you to stop thinking about Rashid Al Sheik and find who is killing these men.”
“Yes, ma’am,” said Myers.
“You’re better than this, Myers. I know you are. Do you need some time off? I know you’ve had it rough these past couple of years.”
“I don’t need time off, ma’am.”
Her tone softened. They had known each other long enough for them to know about each other’s personal lives, and he had to admit, when he’d separated from Alison, she had been supportive.
“Now, I’ll ask again. What’s your next move? The media will be all over this.”
“I think if we play it right, it’s an easy PR win. Jennifer Standing was found. Win. Faisal Hussein, a known sex offender, was caught. Win. We don’t have to give any more details.”
“What about Hussein’s family?” asked Allenby, and she pulled a folder close to her, a sign the conversation was drawing to a close. “What if they make a scene?”
“That all depends on Jennifer Standing’s statement, ma’am,” said Myers, as he reached for the door.
“Excuse me?” said Allenby, and for the first time, her expression weakened. “You’re not going to ask Standing for a statement. Not yet.”
“Time is of the essence, ma’am. If she’s willing to talk, we need to hear what she has to say. She may have seen him. Standing could give us an insight.”
“After what she’s been through?”
“The only way we’re going to catch this guy is by finding out how he operates.”
Allenby considered it. “Okay. Clear it first and take DS Fox with you. She could do with the experience and you could do with the support. Consider her your partner from now on.”
“Oh, ma’am-”
“Close the door on the way out, Myers,” said Allenby. “I want a report this afternoon.”
Chapter Eight
The hive of workers had dispersed, leaving only the serving staff who stood in two lines ready to welcome the first guests. There was no denying it, even with Harvey’s limited opinions, he had to admit that the scene was incredible.
Two banks of seats arranged similar to church pews had been placed in an arc around where Donny and his bride would stand. A string quartet had been set up to one side and were playing Bach’s Air on the G String. A full swing band had been established on the stage which was set before a large dance floor. The caterers had set out twenty eight-seater tables with white tablecloths and seat covers. The tables, which overlooked the village below, had been adorned with lilies and silverware.
But the centrepiece was the wooden arch. Its pillars had white roses climbing in uniform and, beneath it, waiting patiently, was the vicar who looked sombre and serious.
Harvey resumed his place at the top of the steps. From there, he could survey the entire scene. He adjusted his suit and pulled his tie loose. His shoes were uncomfortable, but he could bear them for a while. It was almost comedic to see Julios walking from the main gates where two of John’s men were welcoming the arriving guests.
When Julios walked, he commanded the space. All eyes followed him in a mixture of awe and fascination. He was a large man, the largest that Harvey had even seen or known. But he had a presence that was larger than even his physical size. He had little cause to speak, and when he did, his words were chosen well. He and Harvey had spent hours together with barely any exchange of words.
From a young age, Harvey had admired the man. He
looked up to him as a mentor and his opinion meant more to Harvey than any words John could ever say. But in his tuxedo, Julios was transformed. He was a new man and looked as if he might have stepped off a film set. It was a far cry from his usual rudimental appearance.
A line of cars made their way along the gravel driveway. Sergio had placed another of John’s men in charge of parking and he was guiding them into an area beside the stream, away from the ceremony and reception.
Julios handed Harvey a guest list, which he placed in his breast pocket without looking at it. The men on the gates were checking people off the list as they entered. All Harvey and Julios would need to do was ensure the day went to plan.
The guests began to congregate near the bar, where several high tables had been arranged. Hands were shaken, wives were hugged, and glasses were chinked, and all the while, the quartet moved through what Harvey recognised as some of John’s favourite pieces of music.
Harvey recognised some of the faces. There were villains of all descriptions. Men who had, over the years, been involved with John in one way or another. A group of men who Harvey did not recognise were greeted by Donny and led to the bar for a quick, last-minute send-off drink. Harvey was fully aware of Donny’s taste for drugs, a subject that only embittered John. He could only assume that the men who all raised their glasses to him were his closest friends. Sergio had even taken a break from welcoming guests to stand with Donny and his mates. It was only when the congregation grew to well over one hundred and fifty people that Sergio and Donny’s crew began to usher people towards their seats.
But not to be outdone by the sheer magnificence of the scene, it was John who made the grand entrance. He came to stand between Harvey and Julios and raised his arms in the air to a low and subdued applause. He moved through the crowd as naturally as any man could, offering kisses on both cheeks to the wives of old friends and allies, and shaking hands he hadn’t shaken for many years, thanking them for coming. He introduced himself to those he didn’t know and assured them that Donny’s men, who Harvey had learnt to be the ushers and groomsmen, would take care of their every need. There were young women in beautiful dresses, men in their finest suits, and even two Asian men who wore fine, white kurtas.
