Basic Element: A dark gipping detective thriller (Crane and Anderson Book 2)

by Wendy Cartmell

  Ciaran stilled. “No, no, he doesn’t.”

  “What do you think he’d say if he knew you were going out with the flat mate of Sally Smith, before her murder has been solved? Who knows what evidence she could be suppressing? Or maybe she’s not telling us something that would help the case?”

  Ciaran stood. “You bitch. I thought you were my friend. But you’re not going to blackmail me. The answer is still no. You can tell Anderson whatever the hell you want, but I won’t be party to your death.”

  Holly watched Ciaran as he shoved his way out of the pub. What she really wanted to do was to throw her glass at his retreating back, but sense prevailed and she had to make do with running most of the way home to get rid of her anger and frustration.

  Once home, as she didn’t drink nor do drugs, she had to make do with a bit of yoga to try and calm her and then some meditation. Although, if she were honest what she really wanted to do was to smoke a joint and just drift off to sleep. But her drug use was in her past. She’d been clean for too long to mess up her body again.

  Climbing into bed she caught sight of her nanny cam. It wasn’t a deterrent per se, as a burglar wouldn’t know she had one. Wouldn’t know to stay away. There was no sign on the outside of her building saying, ‘Nanny cams in operation’. But, if anything did happen, at least it would be recorded. If the police realised there was a nanny cam in the room that was. Surely they would see the teddy for what it was? After all she wasn’t a teddy kind of person. So it would stand out. Wouldn’t it? They were becoming more widely used, particularly when families wanted to catch people hurting vulnerable relatives in care homes and hospitals. But also they were becoming more and more popular with women who lived on their own.

  Holly sat up in bed. Jesus Christ. What if any of their victims had one?

  The next morning Holly was exhausted from lack of sleep. Once she’d got the idea of a nanny cam in her head, she couldn’t get rid of it. It suddenly seemed to be the key to the whole bloody case. So she’d tossed and turned most of the night and had been in the office since 7am, waiting for the rest of the team to arrive.

  At last Crane and Anderson walked in and she told them about nanny cams.

  Anderson said, “Nanny what?”

  It looked as if she was going to have to drag them into the 21st Century, so she explained what they were and showed them the one she’d brought from home, after making sure there were no indecent pictures of her on the video it contained. As it was motion sensitive, she normally made sure she only switched it on at night. Last night, once she was decently dressed for bed, she had turned it on and recorded a little piece, to show Crane and Anderson the results.

  “I don’t recall a teddy bear in any of the bedrooms belonging to our three victims,” said Crane.

  “That’s not all they are disguised in,” she patiently explained. “They are in clocks, smiley faces, radios, wrist watches, smoke detectors, photo frames - loads of things.”

  “So we will have to check all the items in each apartment?”

  “Yes, sir, we will.”

  “Not us,” Anderson said and they all looked at him.

  “Forensics will have to,” he said. “We’re not buggering this up by compromising any evidence. Crane, organise that for me would you?”

  “So we just have to wait here? Can’t we go along as well?”

  “Holly, how much work do you have to do?”

  “Well, rather a lot actually,” she had to admit.

  “Exactly. So get on with your job and let the forensic officers do theirs. Don’t worry, you’ll know as soon as I do if they find anything.”

  Having to be satisfied with that, Holly went back to her desk.

  “Thank you,” grunted Ciaran as he passed her, but he didn’t sound pleased.

  “What for?”

  “For not telling Crane and Anderson about my association with Donna. That’s what you threatened to do last night. Remember?”

  “Actually, I should be apologising to you. I wouldn’t have done that, honest. I was just panicking, angry and upset. I’m sorry, Ciaran. Can we pretend it never happened?”

  “Maybe, I don’t know,” he turned to pick up his phone. “You’ll just have to wait and see won’t you? Like I had to wait and see, all last night, wondering if my career was over before it had even started.”

  Holly closed her eyes and realised she had a lot to learn about interacting with the members of her team. She spent too much of her time interacting with computers rather than humans. She was beginning to understand humans talked back, whereas her machines didn’t. Humans could be hurt by her outbursts, whereas computers couldn’t. She hoped Ciaran would come round. She hadn’t meant to hurt him, but could see she had. It would take a while to gain his trust again and she berated herself for her stupidity.

  Sighing, she logged into S-Dates to see if there had been any private messages on any of the three accounts she had set up, and forced herself to concentrate on the job in hand.

  Crane

  “Derek,” said Crane, poking his head around Anderson’s door. “You best see this.”

  “What it is?”

  “A message and a video file from Forensics. Sally Smith had a nanny cam.”

  “Dear God – Holly was right!” Derek pushed away his chair as he stood. “Get the others, then.”

  “Um, perhaps we should view it first. It might not be very nice.”

  “Why, what have they said?” Anderson walked towards his office door, once again trying to tame his wispy grey hair.

  “It’s a bit like the warning on the telly, a viewer advisement as it were.”

  “Oh, I’m not liking the sound of that.”

  “Neither am I,” Ciaran added from where he was standing at Crane’s desk.

  “Never mind all that,” said Holly appearing as well. “Let’s just get on with it.”

  Crane could see she was flushed with success, having been right about a possible nanny cam, but was very much afraid she wasn’t going to be as happy as she was now, once she’d seen the video. Not if it showed what he was afraid it had filmed.

  Crane sat at his desk and played the file, the others clustered around him. The film opened with Sally leading a young man by the hand into the bedroom and they fell on the bed, writhing, kissing and biting each other. Crane felt it was like watching a porn movie, but with a deeper, evil undertone, as the climax to the film wouldn’t be great sex, but murder. They watched silently as the man whispered something in Sally’s ear. She nodded in response to his words. He then left the bed and presumably the bedroom, returning with colourful scraps of material in his hand.

  “The silk scarves,” breathed Holly.

  Everyone nodded, no one speaking, as if not wishing to break the spell. Only this wasn’t some happy ever after Walt Disney Cinderella video, where Sally got her prince.

  They still hadn’t seen a clear shot of his face, the smiley face that contained the camera being on the wall of the bedroom, facing the bed sideways on and the murderer had managed, albeit unknowingly, to mostly keep his back to it.

  Mounting horror was a clichéd way of describing how Crane was feeling he decided, but the longer the video went on, the higher the suspense ratcheted. A quick glance at the rest of the team showed him what his own face must look like. Holly had her hand over her mouth and tears in her eyes. Ciaran looked as though he was going to be sick and Anderson, well he kept closing his eyes, the wrinkles in his face looking deeper somehow. His eyes, when they were open, were dulled by the awfulness of what he was watching.

  The murderer, for what else could Crane call him, lay on his back on the bed, allowing Sally to loosely tie the scarves around his wrists and then to the bedpost. Finally she climbed on top of him and slipped a scarf around his neck. Now they could see his face, as he thrashed this way and that in orgasm. But there was no clear image they could use, as his face was contorted in ecstasy.

  There was a pause as both caught their breath
, then the man sprang off the bed and tied Sally down. Crane noted he used double knots on the ones binding her hands to the bed, whereas she’d only used one knot. That meant he could have easily pulled his hands away if he’d so desired, whereas Sally wouldn’t be able to. It appeared Sally hadn’t noticed. Her face flushed, eyes wide and body already thrusting up towards his torso, she appeared to be perfectly willing to be tied up. As the scarf slid around her neck she closed her eyes in acceptance of what he was going to do.

  Entering her, his face in profile, his hands then went to the scarf on her neck. Placing his hands on either side, he squeezed her arteries with his thumbs, in time with his thrusts. At first glance that seemed enough for them both. Sally was arching her back and gasping great lungs full of air as he released her arteries. They found a kind of rhythm that seemed to satisfy both parties.

  But then, without warning, her killer wound the ends of the scarf around each other, enabling him to tighten it against her neck. This was clearly something Sally hadn’t bargained on. Her eyes bulged, mouth opened, hands tugged weakly against the scarves binding her hands. But instead of releasing the pressure on her neck, he appeared to increase it, savagely thrusting into her as she struggled against him one more time, then fell limply against the bed, the life leaching out of her body.

  Holly cried, great gulping sobs escaping from behind her hand. Crane was glad he was sitting down, but had to grab hold of the desk to stop himself falling off his chair. Ciaran turned and put his arms around Holly, possibly to hold himself up as much as her and Derek held on to the back of Crane’s chair as though it were a lifeboat in a stormy sea.

  Holly was just about to stumble away, when Crane said, “Wait!” His hand hovered over his mouse. “There!” he shouted in triumph.

  Frozen in time was the face of their killer, as he looked straight at the nanny cam and grinned. Just as if he’d known it was there the whole time.

  Holly had run to the Ladies toilets, Ciaran had stumbled back to his desk and was sitting there with his head in his hands. It was only the two oldies who were left looking at the image on Crane’s computer.

  “I expect Holly can get a good still from that,” said Crane, unable to look away from his monitor.

  “Yes, when she calms down a bit.” Derek was still standing behind Crane. Still holding onto the back of his chair.

  “I’ve never seen anything like this before,” said Crane.

  “Me neither. To see the whole thing laid out before us.”

  “I know. Every other time we investigate a murder, we have to imagine how it happened. What it would have looked like and how the victim must have felt. But this? No, never this. I’ve never watched a murder from start to finish.”

  “I guess there’s a first time for everything,” said Derek.

  “I could have done without the experience.”

  “Me too.”

  “Guv?” They both turned to see Holly stood there. She was white faced, red eyed and shaking. “Do you mind moving?”

  “Moving?” said Crane stupidly. “Oh, right, sorry.”

  Crane stood up and shuffled out of the way, while Holly took his place and proceeded to save the image he and Anderson hadn’t been able to look away from. Crane realised he was still mesmerised by that face, those eyes, and the look of triumph in them. “I guess that’s more or less what happened in the other two murders.”

  “I’d say so,” agreed Anderson.

  Holly was still clicking away on Crane’s keyboard. “I wonder who he is.”

  Anderson managed a chuckle at that comment as if to say that Crane was still in la la land and clearly not thinking straight. “That’s the big question, isn’t it?”

  “Right,” Holly interrupted them. “I’ve taken a jpeg from the video. I’ve sent it over the intranet to our four workstations and I’m also printing several copies off.”

  “This clears the Professor,” said Crane.

  “And his wife,” added Anderson.

  “Yes and his wife.”

  “So now we have to identify him.”

  “Holly can run a facial recognition search against the database,” called Ciaran. “What about door to door around the three murder sites? Get some uniforms to go back and canvass the areas again, as now we’ve got an image to show the residents.”

  “Yes, that will place him in the immediate vicinities, which we’ll need to do. But it still won’t identify him.”

  “I’ll do a search on social media. See if I can’t find his face anywhere,” Holly said. Crane looked blankly at her. “Facebook, WhatsApp, profile pictures, Instagram, LinkedIn, you know, all the usual.”

  Crane nodded as though he understood what she was talking about. Grabbing his stick, he said, “Think I’ll just get some air, Derek.”

  “I think I’ll join you.”

  Once outside, the two of them stood side by side in the car park, surrounded by cars and people, but not seeing any of them. Crane silently smoked a cigarette, noting Derek seemed as dazed as he was.

  “What a bloody awful job we do,” he said, grinding his cigarette underfoot, wondering if he should have another one.

  “Someone’s got to do it,” said Derek and walked back inside, head down and his hands in his pockets. But the words weren’t spoken with any conviction. Crane sighed and followed Derek in. He could wait a while before having another cigarette. Bugger the electronic ones. Nothing replaced a real fag, and if ever a moment had called for one, what they’d just been through certainly had.

  Anderson

  Anderson, as the SIO, had the dubious pleasure of telling Grimes what they’d found. He approached Grimes’ office with leaden feet. Not only had they discovered gruesome evidence, but it seemed their murderer was completely unknown to them. Had they latched on to the Professor too quickly? Had they taken the manic ramblings of a scorned wife too seriously? He wasn’t sure. Wasn’t sure of anything anymore, including if he wanted to keep doing the job. How many more depraved individuals could he stomach?

  When he’d first signed up for the police, all those years ago, he was as eager and gung-ho as Ciaran had been when he’d first joined the team. But the years had dulled that eagerness. Weariness replacing enthusiasm. Age defeating youth. He thought his wife might be glad of the rest as well. Maybe it was time for ‘the conversation’. The one she’d been waiting for all these years. Should he leave the force? But if he did, what would he do instead? It was all too much: his brain was too tired and his legs as shaky as Crane’s. He was a mess.

  “Come in, Derek,” he heard Grimes shout as he approached the Chief Super’s door.

  Anderson sat down heavily on the chair his boss indicated, and forced his hands down onto his lap, instead of up to wipe his face. He waited for the criticism he was certain was coming.

  “I hear you’ve found a film of the killing of one of our victims.”

  “Yes, sir, from a nanny cam the victim had in her bedroom.”

  “It’s pretty horrible from the looks of you.”

  Anderson decided to be blunt. “It’s the worst thing I’ve ever seen. I can’t seem to process it, sir.”

  “You will, Derek, it will just take a bit of time that’s all.”

  “Really?”

  “Really. I witnessed a murder. Just the once, thank God.” Grimes leaned back in his chair, the leather squeaking in protest. “We had this bloke holed up in a hostage situation. I offered to go in and talk to him, like the young fool I was. The room he was in smelled foul. Smelled of evil, you could say. A woman was lying on the floor, her chest covered in more blood than I’d ever seen. He’d shot her. In his arms he had a young girl. A gun was pressed to her temple. I put my hands up to show I was unharmed. I tried to talk him down. It didn’t work. He shot the girl’s brains out in front of me. Then turned the gun on himself.”

  Anderson wondered what he was supposed to say. He really couldn’t think of anything suitable, so stayed silent.

  “It was a week before
I could keep any food down. It took me a long time to get over that, I can tell you. I very nearly left the force. Made my mind up to do it several times.”

  “But you didn’t.” Anderson finally found his voice.

  “No. I reckoned what happened that day had to be the worst I’d ever face. And as I’d already paid my dues, surely things could only get better, not worse.”

  “And did they?”

  “Yes. Thank goodness. I never came across anything like that again. But what it did do was to make me even more determined to stop evil, where ever I found it. It takes an extraordinary man to be a good police officer, Derek. You’re one of those men. I’d hate to lose you because of this.”

  Anderson wondered if it was obvious he was feeling beaten. His face and body must have given him away. Mind you he wasn’t exactly trying to hide his emotions.

  “Your team need you and your victims need you. Do it for them. Do it for the three souls whose lives he’s taken. Make sure he pays the price for this depraved killing spree. Go home and spend the evening with the family. A good meal, a couple of drinks and a good night’s sleep will help. Take it from someone who knows.”

  Anderson nodded. Not trusting himself to speak he simply stood and left the room. He still struggled under the weight of the case, as though buckling under the burden of the cross, dragging it along with him as it rested firmly on his shoulders. But Grimes had sown the seed of endurance. Anderson only hoped he could nurture that feeling, so it grew and flowered. He hoped his family could provide the sustenance it needed. With a new respect for the boss, he pushed out of the building and made his way to the comfort of home.

  Theresa

  Theresa and Tim had hardly spoken since the debacle a few days ago at the police station. She’d avoided him and he her. Tim was now spending even more hours at work, or wherever the hell it was that he was spending his time. She was dozing on the bed, something she seemed to be doing more frequently, unaware of the passage of time.