by Leon, Taylor
‘How did you say the woman in the Lake District was killed?’ I asked Cade.
‘Beaten to death.’
Not stabbed. Not strangled.
‘There he is,’ Cade said.
I looked up and saw a crowd of kids coming out of the college, and near the front was our suspect. His hair was a little longer than in the photo, but otherwise he looked the same, albeit his face was a little redder, probably from the cold. He was dressed in jeans and a dark raincoat with a rucksack slung over one shoulder. The other thing that caught my attention was his height. Or his lack of. Oriane had described someone over six foot. This kid was lucky if he was five-eight.
‘You and I can take him now,’ Cade said. ‘You ready?’
I nodded and we climbed out.
Marcus looked at us uncertainly as he came closer. He averted his gaze and was about to walk round us with the other students.
‘Marcus Simms?’ Cade asked, stepping out in front of him,
He looked up at Cade and his face turned paler. ‘Who wants to know?’
‘I’m Detective Inspector Cade and this is Detective Sergeant Dark. Could we have a word-’
Cade didn’t even get to finish the sentence. Marcus spun around with surprising speed, slamming his rucksack into Cade’s chest, who doubled over.
I stepped forward after him, as he ran out into the road. Cars screeched to a halt as he wove between them, and I was struggling to keep up. Christ, how I could have done with Moira right then.
I was caught on an island in the middle of the road. Marcus had made it to the other side and was sprinting away from me. I turned and saw Cade was climbing back into the car. I took a chance and dashed out into the road, determined not to let him get away so easily. Horns blared and I heard someone slide his window down to curse me. Ahead, I saw Marcus Simms barrelling through the wall of people in front of him like an American Footballer.
‘Police!’ I screamed. ‘Get out of the way!’
The crowd froze and parted, but everything was happening so quickly no-one could react and stop him from escaping.
My mobile went off and I lifted it to my ear while I ran. It was Cade.
‘I’m in the car, coming round for you,’ he said.
Simms was getting further away, and I watched as he took the first right turn.
‘He’s gone into…’ I glanced at the street name coming up. ‘Lakeland Crescent, two hundred yards down from the college.’
I followed the fleeing figure into a quiet residential street, small pretty detached houses lining both sides. But he wasn’t ahead of me anymore.
‘I can’t see him,’ I breathed heavily into the phone.
I slowed up as I continued down the road, realising he had to be close by, maybe crouching low in one of the front gardens.
Cade came screeching around the corner just as I noticed a small alley running between two of the houses. Without waiting for him, I took a chance and sprinted down the narrow passage. It had high fencing on both sides and only one way out at the far end.
An old guy with his small dog was coming up towards me. ‘Have you seen a kid running down this way?’ I panted, slowing to a jog.
He smiled politely. ‘I saw someone back there, running across the allotments.’
The allotments?
I thanked him as I took off down the alleyway again. Cade caught up with me, just as I reached the end.
‘Oh shit,’ I breathed. In front of us were open allotments stretching out into the distance. There was a row of trees and bushes about mid-way, and then fields stretching out beyond.
But no movement, and no Marcus Simms.
23
‘POLICE,’ CADE SAID, flashing his badge. The kid, standing in the doorway, was dressed in tracksuit bottoms, but was shirtless. His spiky fair hair was all over the shop. I wasn’t sure if that was a fashion statement or whether he really had just climbed out of bed. He looked past us, at the two marked police cars.
‘What’s going on?’ he asked, looking understandably concerned.
‘I’m Detective Inspector Cade and this is Detective Sergeant Dark, and you are?’
‘Terence Mee,’ he replied with a slight tremor.
‘Does Marcus Simms live here?’
‘Yes, he does. Why?’
‘Is he in right now?’
‘No, he hasn’t come home from college yet.’
‘Can we come in please, Mr Mee?’
He looked over at the police vehicles uncertainly, and then nodded.
I looked back and motioned for the others to follow us in.
It looked like a typical student accommodation. Clothes, dirty plates, and a couple of empty beer cans were strewn across the hardwood floor.
‘How many of you live here, Mr Mee?’ I asked him.
‘Three usually. But Hogan has gone back home for a few days so there’s just me and Marcus.’
‘And is anyone else here, right now?’
We turned as a young girl, pretty thing, appeared in the doorway. She was wearing a long t-shirt covered in psychedelic colours that covered the top of her bare legs. Her hair was mussed up as though she’d just woken up or…okay, so I was half-right when I thought we’d got Terence Mee out of bed.
Our colleagues had now come in and four of them were standing behind the girl, who was looking very worried.
‘What’s this about, Terry?’ the girl whispered.
He looked at me, but said to her. ‘I don’t know.’
‘Is there anyone else in the property, or is this it?’ Cade repeated.
‘No, just us,’ Terence said. ‘Please, what is going on?’
‘We have a warrant to search these premises,’ Cade said in a monotone. ‘And we need you to come down to the station with us.’ He looked across at the girl. ‘You too.’
‘Why? We haven’t done anything wrong.’
‘We’re looking for Marcus Simms. There is a warrant out for his arrest. We need to ask you a few questions about him down at the station, while this house is being searched.’
‘What’s he done?’ the girl asked.
‘I’m afraid we can’t discuss that here,’ I said.
The girl looked at Terence, who said. ‘I’ve told them, I don’t know where he is.’ He looked back at me. ‘We’re not mates or anything. I mean, I hardly see him. Just when he comes down to eat. He keeps himself to himself.’
‘Do you know any of his friends?’
‘No, I’ve never met them. I mean, he says he goes out to see them sometimes, but he’s never brought them back here.’
‘Know anywhere he might have gone after college?’
Terence shrugged. ‘I’m sorry, I can’t help you. If he’s not at college, then I don’t know where he is.’
Cade nodded and looked at them both. ‘Okay, get dressed quickly and my colleagues will take you down to the station.’
‘Please don’t go through my stuff,’ Terence protested.
‘I’m not interested in “your stuff”,’ Cade said. He motioned to the doorway. ‘But we do have to search everywhere in this house.’
‘I need to phone my Dad,’ Terence said.
‘Me too,’ the girl added.
‘You can phone them from the station,’ Cade said. ‘These officers will escort you upstairs to get changed, but first of all we need you to show us Marcus’s bedroom.’
Terence led the way. ‘That’s the bathroom,’ he said, pointing at a closed door as we reached the top of the stairs. I nodded for a couple of Uniforms to go in there and check it out.
‘This is my room,’ he added pointing to an open door, ‘that’s Hogan’s room, and that last one is Marcus’s.’
Cade and I left the others and went into Marcus’s room. It was a small rectangular box-room, with the bed taking up almost half the space. There was a small desk in the far corner, and in front of that an easel with a canvas on it. I glanced at the purple, yellow and red abstract painting before I passed over to the desk
where Cade was already sifting through the suspect’s belongings. The desk had a laptop on it next to a pile of textbooks. I could see from the spines that one of them was a large biography of Picasso.
‘We’ll take the computer,’ Cade said and pulled open the top desk drawer. He rummaged through a lot of loose stationary before lifting out a small unlabelled bottle that rattled with several pills inside. I held out a small evidence bag and he dropped the bottle inside.
I sealed the bag and placed it next to the laptop squeezing past Cade to get to the far side of the desk. Just sticking out and pressed against the wall was another painting. I pulled it out and held it up. It was another abstract, another mad swirl of vibrant colours. It seemed innocuous, but I found myself frowning at it. There was something in there…
And then it hit me.
The red markings in the bottom left corner looked like the initials HG.
The woman killed near the Lake District was called Helen Green.
And the other painting I’d glanced at when I came into the bedroom…
Keeping hold of that one, I stepped back over to the work in progress that was resting on the easel. The red markings in the top corner looked very much like the initials MF.
Melissa Fairweather?
The paints the suspect was using for the current canvas were resting in six small pots on the easel’s purpose made shelf.
I lay the HG canvas down on the bed, as Cade stepped across. ‘What have you got?’ he asked.
‘I think he’s been adding the initials of his victims to these paintings,’ I said.
I turned back to the pots of paint and carefully opened the first one. It was yellow and the strong smell immediately hit me. I put the lid back on and traced my fingers across the other five pots.
The initials HG and MF had both been painted in red.
The second pot was blue, the smell as powerful as the first one. I didn’t even bother opening it up fully.
The third pot I opened was red. I lifted this one up with shaking hands, all the way up to my nose. It was a very different smell.
Cade was frowning at me. ‘What is it?’
‘It’s blood,’ I whispered. ‘He’s been painting his victims’ initials with their blood.’
24
MARCUS SIMMS AKA BABYFACE used his mobile phone to contact THE GAMES-MASTER at eight-fifteen that evening.
-I’M IN REAL TROUBLE, BABYFACE typed. THE POLICE ARE AFTER ME. I’M ALL OVER THE NEWS.
Indeed. THE GAMES-MASTER had seen his picture on the TV. Right now, BABYFACE was the most wanted man in the country. When THE GAMES-MASTER had first seen it, he had had a moment’s panic.
What if they caught him and he talked?
But then he had taken a deep breath, calmed-down, and told himself: You are better than this. You are THE GAMES-MASTER. You are God.
He started typing.
-WHY DO THEY SUSPECT YOU?
-I DON’T’ KNOW.
-HAVE YOU BEEN HOME?
-OF COURSE NOT
THE GAMES-MASTER thought for a moment. This was a very delicate situation. The question was whether he should let this hunt for BABYFACE play itself out, or whether he should intervene. He only needed a little more time, another week and then it was “game-over”.
-I NEED TO SEE YOU, BABYFACE typed.
-I’M AFRAID THAT’S NOT POSSIBLE
-I NEED YOUR HELP
-I DON’T SEE HOW I CAN HELP YOU
-I NEED MONEY. I NEED TO GET AWAY
THE GAMES-MASTER could not believe the audacity of the boy. Asking for money as though he was a charity. He had dialled in through his phone so THE GAMES-MASTER couldn’t see him, and couldn’t judge if he was scared, or whether the demand for money was aggressive.
-THE REWARD IS ONLY MADE TO THE WINNER OF THE GAME, THE GAMES-MASTER typed.
-IF I AM CAUGHT THERE WILL BE NO GAME
Well, that answers that, THE GAMES-MASTER thought. He was upping the ante.
-I AM THE GAMES-MASTER. THIS IS MY GAME. MY RULES
-I HAVE MURDERED FOR YOU
-YOU HAVE MURDERED FOR YOURSELF. YOU WANTED TO WIN. NOBODY MADE YOU DO ANYTHING
-I WONDER WHAT THE POLICE WOULD MAKE OF IT
-IS THAT A THREAT?
THE GAMES-MASTER sighed and thought, BABYFACE is a risk now. He would have to be dealt with.
Such a shame. I thought at one point he would be the one.
THE GAMES-MASTER pushed back in his chair and thought through his options carefully. He couldn’t afford to send either FRIGHT-NIGHT or CHAMELEON to clean up. It was imperative that they didn’t know one another. Send one of them round to dispose of BABYFACE and they could end up colluding with him.
-OKAY THEN, THE GAMES-MASTER typed. WE CAN MEET TONIGHT
-SOMEWHERE PUBLIC
-NO. YOU ARE A WANTED MAN, VIRTUALLY ADVERTISING YOURSELF ON NATIONAL TV
-BUT HOW DO I KNOW YOU ARE NOT GOING TO KILL ME?
-IF I WAS A KILLER THEN I WOULDN’T NEED YOU THREE, WOULD I?
-I SUPPOSE NOT.
-NOW, PLEASE TELL ME WHERE YOU ARE.
25
THE GAMES-MASTER waited anxiously outside the hotel room for several minutes, before Marcus Simms aka BABYFACE answered the door. When he did, it creaked open and was stopped after a few inches by its chain. Frightened eyes peered out.
‘I’m armed,’ BABYFACE warned.
THE GAMES-MASTER glanced down and saw a kitchen knife in his hand.
‘You won’t be needing that,’ THE GAMES-MASTER said softly.
‘Are you him?’
‘Yes,’ THE GAMES-MASTER said, then tilted his head. ‘Do I seriously look like I’m a threat to you? Especially as you have the knife.’
‘Shhh,’ BABYFACE hissed. ‘Keep your voice down.’
He disappeared and pulled the door too so he could take off the chain. Then he opened it fully to let his visitor in.
Close up, BABYFACE’s face looked drawn, like someone who had been running on barely any sleep for days.
He’s been pill-popping again, THE GAMES-MASTER thought to himself, he has that look in his eyes. That will only work to my advantage. This is when all the weeks of background checks, hacking into the players’ medical records and educational histories pays off. Anything and everything, so I know them as well, if not better, than they know themselves.
‘You can put the knife down,’ THE GAMES-MASTER said, quietly closing the door behind him. He saw BABYFACE eyeing his leather gloves and he laughed at him, before taking them off and stuffing them into his pockets.
‘I promise you I am unarmed,’ he said, holding up his arms like he was in airport security waiting to be patted down. He knew BABYFACE probably wouldn’t do that, and even if he did, so what? He was true to his word and didn’t have a weapon on him.
‘I’m keeping this out,’ BABYFACE said, nodding to the knife he was still clutching, as he led THE GAMES-MASTER over to the bed.
‘Up to you,’ THE GAMES-MASTER said. ‘But like I said, if I wanted to hurt you I would have sent one of the other players over.’
He was sure BABYFACE wouldn’t think he had deliberately not sent one of the others, fearing collusion.
BABYFACE gently laid the knife down on the corner of the bed and sat down next to it.
Keeping his coat on, THE GAMES-MASTER stood opposite. ‘Well, you wanted to meet me,’ he said, ‘and so, here I am. I don’t do this for everyone, you know.’
BABYFACE nodded. ‘I’m sorry about what I wrote earlier.’
‘Which bit are you sorry about?’
‘The threat I made about going to the police.’
THE GAMES-MASTER shrugged. ‘I would be lying if I said that didn’t bother me.’
‘You know I didn’t mean it. I wish I could take it back’
‘I don’t know whether you meant it or not,’ THE GAMES-MASTER said. ‘As for taking it back. All the messages self-destruct after four minutes anyway.’
BABYFACE nodded and
folded his hands on his lap. He looked so vulnerable. Not like the serial killer he aspired to be, but like the boy-man he really was.
‘I just wanted to meet you in person,’ BABYFACE said. ‘To explain why winning this game is so important to me.’
It was hard to believe that this nervous looking boy was the same person who only several days earlier had beaten Melissa Fairweather to death.
‘Why do you think it’s any more important to you than it is to FRIGHT-NIGHT or THE CHAMELEON?’
‘I can use it to settle down and do the one thing I love.’
THE GAME-MASTER frowned. Despite all his research he didn’t know what this “one thing” was.
‘Painting,’ BABYFACE said. ‘It’s what I live for. Each painting is special and unique. Each one represents a girl.’ He said it so casually, as though he was reading a newspaper headline out loud.
Each one represents a girl, THE GAMES-MASTER thought. Not just any girl. He means a victim.
BABYFACE leaned forward. ‘If I win your game, then I can leave college, travel the world and paint wherever and whoever I want to.’
‘Will you need to collect more victims to…’ THE GAMES-MASTER wet his lips as he searched for the right phrase, ‘inspire you?’
BABYFACE smiled weakly. ‘I’m addicted, what can I say?’
He sounds like he could eventually be a most prolific serial-killer, THE GAMES-MASTER thought. Trailing around the world with his new-found wealth; killing and painting in country after country.
‘So, what happens if I don’t give you some money?’ THE GAMES-MASTER asked.
