by Bill Rogers
Nick Carter had his hand raised. ‘One thing that occurs to me,’ he said. ‘Could he possibly be a copycat killer?’
‘I take it you’re referring to the Yorkshire Ripper and the Suffolk Strangler,’ said Andy.
‘Well, they did both kill prostitutes,’ the detective sergeant replied. ‘But I was really thinking about the Suffolk Strangler. He didn’t have sex with his victims, and he strangled them. And it was exactly ten years ago.’
‘Good point. And it is likely that the unsub will be aware of those murders. They may even have stimulated his imagination, and informed his planning. But the hair fetish is distinctively different.’
‘Could that be an attempt to muddy the waters?’ Jo asked. ‘A distraction if you like? Or perhaps he wanted to add his own calling card or signature.’
‘Both are possible,’ Andy said. ‘But in my view they are too elaborate for that. Copycats tend to do just that. Copy. I’m certain he is a genuine fetishist.’ He looked around the table. ‘Any more questions?’
There were none.
‘Thank you, Mr Swift,’ said Gordon. ‘Now all we have to do is decide what all of this means in relation to Operation Firethorn’s next actions.’ He rolled a marker pen across the table towards Jo. ‘As I remember, this is one of your fortes. Why don’t we brainstorm, and you give it some semblance of order?’
Jo picked up the pen and made her way to the blank marker board. ‘I hope you’re not gender-stereotyping, DCI Holmes,’ she said with a grin.
Gordon rolled his eyes.
‘Perish the thought.’
‘Good.’ She flourished the pen. ‘Because as far as I’m concerned, this is what gives me the power.’
Chapter 16
‘Let’s start with pointers for anyone examining the passive data from the CCTV or talking to street workers,’ Jo said. ‘Who should they be paying special attention to? The sort of people the victims might have expected to come across?’
There was a flurry of responses.
‘Pimps.’
‘Drug dealers!’
‘Soup kitchen volunteers.’
‘Regular punters.’
‘Community workers.’
‘Slow down,’ she said.
Jo finished writing, and stepped away from the board. ‘Those first three categories,’ she said. ‘I agree we can’t exclude them, because they are potential suspects and witnesses in their own right, but given how far apart the crime scenes are, I think it unlikely that the same individuals in any of those categories would be popping up in all three red-light districts.’
‘I agree,’ said Andy Swift. ‘But what about someone who may have been passing himself off as a community worker, health worker, or police officer, for example? Especially if they were pretending they were new to the area.’
Jo wrote that down. ‘How about anyone they come across or hear mentioned by witnesses who has links to the hair and beauty industry?’ she suggested.
‘Absolutely,’ Andy agreed.
Jo turned around. ‘What’s next?’
‘I’ll carry on work with GMP’s HOLMES 2 officer to see if we can tweak the filters we’re using,’ said Ram. ‘And I’ll chase up a geolocation analysis to see what that tells us about where the unsub might be living.’
‘I can offer to look at the witness statements,’ said Andy, ‘and see if I can spot anything worth following up.’
‘Good,’ said Gordon. ‘Obviously my team are continuing the street and door-to-door interviews around the latest crime scene, analysing the direct calls from the public and via Crimestoppers, and hammering the CCTV footage. I’ll also push for as much additional forensic analysis as I can get away with.’ He paused and gave his chin a characteristically vigorous rub with the heel of his hand. ‘I do have one difficult decision to make. Do we flood the local red-light districts with officers?’
‘That would allay the fears of street sex workers and members of the public alike,’ said Nick. ‘And reduce the likelihood of another murder.’
‘On the other hand,’ said Jo, ‘it’s going to deter punters, and that will force the prostitutes out of the area. It might have the effect of moving them, and the unsub, into less well-policed and protected areas.’
‘Furthermore,’ said Andy, ‘as I’ve already pointed out, the unsub is escalating. He will regard the flooding of red-light districts as a challenge, as part of the game. He will adapt, and adopt new tactics in new areas. This will make it harder to catch him.’
‘Besides,’ said Max, ‘there is no single defined area for us to target. The first and third deposition sites were fourteen miles apart, suggesting the unsub is mobile. He could seek new hunting grounds beyond Greater Manchester.’
There was silence while everyone pondered the dilemma.
‘It’s my call,’ said Gordon. ‘Together with distributing to the street workers the advice cards that have already been prepared, I’m going to propose heightened covert surveillance. One pair of plain-clothes officers plus a surveillance van in every red-light district. And we’ll retain existing levels of drive-by uniformed patrols.’
‘Eleven divisions and sixteen red-light districts,’ said Nick. ‘That’s thirty-two detectives and sixteen surveillance vans, Boss. We don’t have anything approaching that number of vans.’
Less than the fingers on one hand if Jo remembered rightly. ‘I’m sure the NCA can help out,’ she said. ‘I’ll ask Mr Stone. He may even be able to put some pressure on neighbouring forces.’
‘Thanks,’ said Gordon. ‘Every little helps.’
He stared at the list of actions Jo had recorded with an air of quiet desperation. She knew what he was thinking. Without a single suspect to go at, operations like this were dispiriting for everyone involved. Keeping them motivated and focused was part of his role. After that, it was all a lottery.
‘What have we forgotten?’ he said.
‘I know it’s obvious,’ said Jo, ‘but is it worth reminding everyone that all of the details of his modus operandi must remain completely confidential?’
‘Don’t worry,’ said Gordon. ‘I’ll make it clear that divulging any of this will be grounds for dismissal on grounds of gross misconduct. Plus I’ll rip their balls off!’
‘Works for me,’ said Nick.
Speak for yourself, thought Jo. I just hope that horse hasn’t bolted.
‘Jo and Max,’ said Gordon, ‘Nick is going to be busy working as my deputy, so if it’s alright with you I’d like you both to carry out targeted interviews with any key witnesses, with known associates of the victims, and with any potential suspects that emerge. Are you up for that?’
They looked at each other, and smiled.
‘It’s what we do best,’ said Max.
Gordon closed his file, and rubbed his chin.
‘I’m glad someone’s feeling confident,’ he said.
Chapter 17
‘This is ridiculous,’ said Max.
In the absence of credible suspects, he and Jo had decided to go to the red-light district where Mandy Madden had begun her fateful evening. Perhaps one of the street workers would be willing to tell them something they had not shared with Gordon’s officers.
‘None of them are prepared to talk to me, and this lot aren’t helping,’ Max told her.
They were watching a video camera crew follow a pair of prostitutes in the vain hope of securing an interview. There seemed to be reporters on every corner. One had narrowly missed being mown down right in front of them by a prospective punter desperate to avoid being photographed.
‘If nothing else,’ said Jo, ‘their presence is a bigger deterrent to the unsub than the odd marked car passing through.’
‘It also means there are less girls and punters for us to stop and question,’ he pointed out. ‘And that surveillance van is wasting its time.’
‘Do you think the unsub would be brazen enough to pose as a reporter?’ Jo wondered, recalling how audacious the Falcon Tattooist had been.<
br />
The railway arches had turned into a wind tunnel. Max rubbed his hands together. ‘I bloody well hope so,’ he said. ‘It might be our only way of getting him on our radar. Gordon has got a couple of officers checking their credentials as they enter or leave the area. Anyway, how did you get on?’
‘At least one or two of them were willing to talk to me,’ Jo said. ‘Mainly the home-grown girls. I think the others are worried word might get back to their pimps or that I might be from Border Force.’
‘What are they telling you?’
‘Nothing we don’t already know. None of them saw anything unusual. The punters were mostly regulars. None of them came up against one that was off the scale for creepiness or violence. Not that that says much. The last sighting of Mandy was her walking into Helmet Street at about ten minutes past one.’
‘You know this patch,’ said Max. ‘Is that significant?’
‘I’m not sure. It runs for about a quarter of a mile, with a right-angle bend in the middle. There are factories and warehouses on either side. Some trees and bushes, all behind railings. There are street lights, but they’re further apart than on the main roads. Some of the girls take their punters down there. There’s plenty of room to park up, and a quick getaway on to the ring road. It does emerge on to Pin Mill Brow sixty-five yards east of the spot where Mandy’s body was found. And the timing’s right.’
‘Must be worth a look,’ Max said.
Jo nodded. They had nothing else to do. ‘Come on,’ she said. ‘I’ll show you.’
The street was deserted. Moths danced in the lamplight. Bats swooped low above their heads. There was an intermittent hum of traffic on the ring road.
‘What strikes me,’ Max said, ‘is we haven’t passed a single CCTV camera trained on the pavements. They’re all focused on the entrances and loading bays. And I’ll be surprised if these lights are on all night.’
Jo was not paying attention. Fifty yards ahead of them a woman had just turned the corner, and was walking slowly towards them, looking from left to right at the buildings on either side of the street. There was something about her that tugged at Jo’s memory banks.
‘What is it?’ said Max.
She held up her hand.
‘Hang on.’
The woman stepped into a pool of light from one of the lamps.
‘I knew it!’ said Jo.
‘What?’
‘It’s that reporter, Kowalski. Agata Kowalski. What the hell is she doing here?’
‘Let’s hope she hasn’t decided on a career change,’ said Max. ‘Whatever, she’s certainly got guts walking these streets alone.’
The reporter looked up, and began to hurry towards them. Her eyes shone bright in the street lights. She looked and sounded relieved to discover it was Jo.
‘Officer Stuart,’ she said. ‘I was hoping I might bump into you.’
‘Ms Kowalski,’ said Jo. ‘You don’t give up, do you?’
‘No,’ she replied. ‘It is not in my nature. And if it was, what kind of investigative reporter would that make me?’
‘A live one,’ said Max. ‘You do know how dangerous it is walking around here at night alone?’
She stared at him defiantly. ‘The working girls do it every night of the week, Mr . . . ?’
‘Senior Investigator Nailor,’ Jo told her. ‘SI Nailor is my colleague.’
Kowalski acknowledged this with a nod. ‘And if you’re talking about the killer,’ she continued, ‘he’s hardly likely to come back with all the police and media swamping the area, is he?’
‘In which case,’ said Jo, ‘what were you hoping to discover here?’
Kowalski shrugged. ‘The same thing as you. Mandy Madden was last seen entering this street. I thought that if I traced her probable route back from the spot where she was found I might find something significant.’
‘Such as?’ said Max.
‘Something her killer may have discarded. A cigarette butt. A weapon. A piece of clothing.’
‘And did you?’
Kowalski shook her head. ‘Not yet.’
‘What makes you think this was the last place the victim was known to have been?’ asked Jo.
‘One of the girls that I spoke with told me. Another of the girls said she also saw her.’
‘How come they spoke to you?’ asked Max. ‘I couldn’t get a word out of any of them.’
‘Six months ago I interviewed many of these girls across the city. And in other cities across the UK. I’ve been working for a film company making a TV programme investigating the pros and cons of having legalised prostitution here, as they have in Canada, and elsewhere.’
She arched an eyebrow.
‘As for them not being willing to speak to you, Officer Nailor, I am not at all surprised.’
Max bristled.
‘And what’s that supposed to mean?’
‘Nothing personal. There is another reason. An important one. That was why I was hoping to see your colleague here. So that I could tell her.’
‘Tell me what?’ said Jo.
‘Best you hear it from the girls themselves.’ She smiled. ‘Would you like me to see if I can persuade them to tell you?’
Chapter 18
It took ten minutes to track down three of the girls to whom Agata Kowalski had spoken earlier. They all agreed to talk, but only with Jo. Max had to retreat to the car, where they left him to nurse his wounded pride.
‘It’s difficult,’ said Danielle, their spokeswoman, ‘with you being police.’
‘Why would that be difficult?’ said Jo. ‘You know that we’re here to help. To protect you. To find the person that killed Mandy.’
‘That’s as maybe. But how do we know we can trust you?’
‘I told you,’ Kowalski interjected. ‘Ms Stuart is different. You can absolutely trust her.’
Magda shuffled her feet.
‘They always look after their own,’ she said. ‘Is the same in my country. Never trust police. They all corrupt.’
‘Not in this country,’ Kowalski assured her.
Jo’s mind raced with possibilities. None of them good. ‘What do you mean, look after their own?’
Two of the girls began to study their feet. The third looked away towards the railway arches.
‘Come on, girls,’ said the reporter. ‘You promised. I told you, she is not one of them. She is with the National Crime Agency, not the local police. Not like him.’
Jo’s fingernails bit into the palms of her hands. ‘Agata is right,’ she said. ‘Whatever you tell me, I promise I will follow it up myself. Nothing will be swept under the carpet. Nobody who has broken the law will be protected. I give you my word.’
More shuffling of feet. Backs turned. A whispered discussion. Decision made, the women turned to face Jo, their faces full of apprehension.
‘He’s a policeman,’ said Danielle.
Jo’s heart skipped a beat. She suddenly felt the chill night air more keenly. ‘Who is?’
‘This man we agreed to tell you about.’
‘Go on.’
‘He says he will arrest us.’
‘He did arrest me,’ said Magda. ‘Threw me in van. Took me to station. Said he would charge me. That I would go to prison. Then they would send me back home.’
Jo had a sinking feeling. ‘And did he? Charge you?’
Magda looked at the ground, and shook her head.
‘He didn’t charge you?’
‘No.’
‘Why not?’
She had to lean closer to hear the reply.
‘Because . . .’
Jo waited.
‘Because . . . I did what he wanted.’
Danielle put her arm around her. The other girl, Vicky, took Magda’s hand and squeezed.
‘We all did,’ said Danielle. ‘It wasn’t just Magda. All of the girls know the Viper. We all knew the score. He wasn’t the first and he won’t be the last.’
‘Just to be sure that I understa
nd,’ said Jo, ‘this man you call the Viper claims to be a police officer and he threatens to arrest you, and have you charged unless you avail him of your services.’
‘Yes,’ chorused Magda and Vicky.
‘He didn’t just claim to be a policeman,’ said Danielle. ‘He is a policeman.’
‘How do you know?’ said Jo.
‘Because he used to pick us up in a police van.’
‘And he wore the uniform,’ added Vicky.
‘Used to?’
‘He doesn’t wear the uniform any more,’ Danielle told her. ‘He wears ordinary clothes, like you.’
Jo’s heart sank.
‘He’s a detective?’
‘Not only that,’ said Agata Kowalski, ‘but I’m sorry to have to tell you that he is part of your team. The team investigating Mandy Madden’s murder.’
Jo stared at Agata in disbelief. The reporter’s expression conveyed her conviction. Jo knew too that she had a name. Sometimes you had to think the unthinkable.
The unsub had been hiding in plain sight.
Chapter 19
WEDNESDAY, 3RD MAY
‘Henshall?’
Gordon Holmes slumped down on the corner of his desk. He looked shaken to the core. Jo had expected a torrent of profanity, but clearly the DCI was too busy processing the enormity of this news.
‘That was the name she gave. Detective Constable Henshall.’
‘How did she know, this reporter? Did the girls tell her?’
‘No,’ said Jo. ‘He never showed them his ID. He just flashed it at them. Kowalski saw him with us at the Mandy Madden crime scene. He was only too keen to give her his name when asked.’
Gordon nodded. ‘Probably thought she was from the Times.’
‘You don’t seem that surprised.’
‘In the short time since he’s been with us, DC Henshall has gained a reputation for borderline homophobic, racist, and misogynist comments. I’ve had to warn him on several occasions for sailing too close to the wind. He’s also boastful, and an attention seeker.’
