by Leon, Taylor
‘If I’m being followed, why did you give me the sign to come over?’
‘Our job is to take this computer from you.’
‘What about the person following me?’
‘You’d better deal with him, hadn’t you?’
‘What should I do?’ I asked him.
‘Oh boy,’ he chuckled. ‘Where do we get you people from? You know Alan Gregson, right?’
‘Right,’ I said, trying not to show my disdain for the man.
‘He seems to think you’re one of Shenker’s better detectives. That’s a concern, right there.’ He laughed and turned to his colleague, nudging the big guy gently in the ribs, trying to force a smile out of him.
Then he turned back to me in serious mode. ‘We don’t have anyone who can tail the car if it follows you out of here. I suggest you go up to the shopping centre, and see if this person follows you.’
‘What are you going to do?’
‘What am I going to do? Nothing. As soon as you’ve lured your shadow out of here, then I can go.’
The darkened window slid up, hiding him away from me.
I straightened and walked away, towards the open doorway that led to the lifts and stairwell. I was tempted to look around, and then remembered the agents in the car were watching me, judging me. They already had me down as an amateur. Now wasn’t the time to be acting like one. If someone really was following me, then I wanted to draw them out.
Once I was in the stairwell, I stopped and listened. I heard footsteps on the concrete outside, getting louder as they came closer. If I confronted my pursuer now, he could turn and make a run for it. I needed to take him by surprise.
I had a choice, to take the stairs or wait for the lift. I made a quick decision to take the stairs, running up quickly two at a time. As I hit the first-floor landing, I glanced down and saw a shadow coming through the doorway below me. He paused to decide between taking the lift or the stairs. The lift would be the most natural choice, unless he really was following me.
There was one way to find out. I cleared my throat loudly, the noise echoing down the stairs. Then, I held my breath and waited.
He had decided on the stairs, and I could hear him starting to climb up after me.
I am target number six.
I glanced up at the next landing. I could get there quickly, and I remembered there was a corridor which led from the stairwell across to the shopping concourse. I would wait there, behind the doorway and then take this person out when he came through.
I went upstairs and out through the doorway into the wide corridor. There was a large car-park pay machine and a snack kiosk to the side, and a hundred yards ahead, it opened up into the massive shopping gallery.
I ducked back behind the doors, and waited.
Seconds later she appeared. And it was a she. Red wool coat and matching knitted beanie, stonewashed jeans and heels.
My first instinct was that this wasn’t the same person who was following me. That somehow between the basement and this floor, there had been a mix-up.
I was about to step out from behind her when Agent Bob’s young driver came through the door at speed, grabbing her tightly and spinning her around. He pinned her arms behind her back and slammed her hard against the wall, all in one slick move.
‘What the fuck!’ she cried, as he pushed a large hand against the back of her head, squashing her face against the plaster. It must have knocked the breath out of her because she didn’t scream out again. He peeled her off the wall and roughly turned her around so she was facing me.
‘Do you recognise her?’ he asked me.
Meredith looked back at me, blood pouring from her nose, her wide blue eyes filled with tears and her lips trembling with fear.
39
WE SAT IN front of the coffee shop on the edge of the concourse. Meredith was still holding a tissue to her nose, even though the bleeding had stopped some time ago. Her face was paler than ever, her chestnut hair, hidden under the red hat.
He could have killed me,’ she said, her voice robotic and muffled behind the tissue
Over her shoulder, I watched the tall, well-built agent, disappear back through the doorway that led down to the basement car-park.
‘You have your own bodyguards now?’ she added.
‘They’re not my bodyguards,’ I said. ‘But they are serious.’
When I saw who had been following me, I knew it wasn’t the threat I had been expecting. I had barked at the agent to let her go, before he did any more damage.
‘I think he broke my nose.’
‘It’s not broken, Meredith.’
‘I’m going to sue the police department.’
She pulled her hand away and looked down at the tissue. I could see from where I was sitting that there wasn’t any blood on it.
‘Honestly,’ I said, trying to hide my dislike of her. ‘It could have been a lot worse than a busted nose.’
She balled the tissue up and placed it on the saucer. Then she took her cup of tea and started sipping slowly.
‘You don’t like me, do you?’ she said.
‘I don’t have feelings one way or another.’
‘That’s not true,’ she smiled, and replaced her cup. ‘We’re both women. I know how this works.’
‘How what works?’
‘You like John.’
Right then, I could have reached across and finished off the agent’s job for him.
‘He’s my partner,’ I said with fake calmness.
‘One woman to another,’ she said. ‘It’s more than that. You know it, and I know it.’
‘Is there a point to this conversation, Meredith?’
‘Has he told you about us?’
I shot her a look. As much as I wanted to try and believe I had got it wrong, I knew I hadn’t.
‘No, but I can tell there is something there,’ I said.
‘And you don’t like it?’
‘John’s personal life is his business.’
‘Good,’ she said triumphantly. ‘That’s something we can both agree on.’ She picked up her cup and finished her drink.
‘Why were you following me?’ I asked her.
‘I’m a journalist, Erin,’ she said. ‘It’s what I sometimes have to do when I’m working on a story.’
‘What story?’
‘Who did you meet in the car park and what were you handing over?’
‘Why didn’t you ask him yourself when he busted your nose?’
‘Come on Erin, a car with darkened windows in a basement car park? What’s going on?’
‘There’s no story there.’
She leaned forward. ‘How about we trade?’
‘You have nothing to offer, and there is nothing I need.’
She smiled. ‘You still haven’t stopped the “number killers”.’
‘Killers?’
‘Don’t play with me, Erin. Let’s be grown-ups for a few minutes, please. Killers. Plural.’
‘You know about Marcus Simms. He’s our chief suspect-’
‘-for the first murder, only,’ she cut across.
I stopped and frowned at her. ‘Is that what your boyfriend told you?’
‘John?’ she laughed. ‘No. I don’t need him to see through your bullshit. Oriane Law was murdered after Marcus Simms died, therefore he can’t have been working alone.’
I was flabbergasted. ‘How do you know about Oriane?’
‘I told you, Erin. I’m good at what I do. So, why don’t you level with me? You might be surprised by the things I’ve dug up.’
I swallowed hard, trying to work out whether I could take her into my confidence or not.
‘I have to go,’ I said rising. ‘In the meantime, you do your job and let me do mine.’
‘You should listen to me.’
‘Goodbye Meredith.’
‘Keith Hargreaves,’ she said.
I turned back to her with a sigh. ‘What about him?’
‘You need
to speak with him.’
‘We did.’
‘Then you need to speak with him again.’
‘No.’
‘No?’
‘Off the record, he has a loose connection with two of the victims, but nothing to suggest anything improper there.’
‘Did you know he went to the same school as Elias James?’
‘You’re wrong. We checked and Keith Hargreaves never went to Rosenthorpe School.’
Now Meredith smiled. ‘That’s because his real name isn’t Keith Hargreaves. It’s Keith Harvey.’ She pointed at my empty seat. ‘Sit,’ she said softly.
Stunned, I dropped down. ‘How do you know that?’
‘I told you, I’m good at what I do.’
If she was right, then I had to admit, she was good. It would also be the second time she had beaten us to the punch.
‘Do you know why he changed his name?’ I asked her.
‘Are we dealing here, Erin?’
I closed my eyes and bit my tongue. ‘Please, just tell me what you know.’
She drummed her nails lightly on the table, as she thought about whether to talk or deal first.
‘Elias James had a reputation for liking some of his students,’ she said. ‘Particularly one Keith Harvey. There were stories that some inappropriate behaviour took place, but nothing was ever proven, and the school swept it under the carpet. I guess times were different back then.
‘I traced and interviewed a few of Keith Harvey’s classmates. The kid got given a very hard time from his peers. They thought he encouraged Elias James and that the two of them were in some sort of consensual relationship. I guess, that’s schoolkids for you.’
‘So, Keith Harvey re-invented himself with a new identity?’
‘As soon as he left the school.’
I rose from my seat. ‘I’ll look into it.’
‘So?’
‘So?’
‘Do I get an exclusive from you when you bring him in?’
‘Tell me, why didn’t you give this to John?’
‘I’m giving it to you.’
‘Why?’
She shrugged. ‘I don’t want to put all my eggs in one basket.’
‘Is that what John is to you, a basket?’
‘Do we have a deal?’ She stood up and extended her hand.
I smiled disdainfully and didn’t take it.
‘You look jittery,’ she said.
‘I’m fine,’ I said and started making my way back across the concourse. Thankfully, the number of people had increased and there were plenty along the route back downstairs. I dialled up Cade as I walked, but only got his voicemail. I tried the landline into the station and got put through to Wills.
‘I need you to dig up everything you can on a Keith Harvey,’ I told him. ‘He was at Rosenthorpe School in the eighties, same time as the number three vic Elias James. Find his peers and their whereabouts and then start making times to meet them over the next forty-eight hours.’
‘What’s this about?’
‘Keith Harvey is Keith Hargreaves.’
‘Oh shit.’
‘Oh shit, is right.’
‘You think he’s our man?’
Bruised and hurt as a kid, enough to change his identity. Now running an IT business with people and contacts to devise complex games and programs.
An angry man with the knowledge and the money.
I’d say so.
40
KEITH HARGREAVES DIDN’T come out to greet Vranch and I. Instead, his PA got up from behind her desk and guided us through the open-plan, into the glass-walled office where he was waiting.
He didn’t stand up when we were shown in. He just asked his PA to close the door on her way out, and offered us two seats around the meeting table in front of him. He stayed behind his desk, looking like a man with either something to hide, or simply annoyed at another intrusion into his busy working life.
My money was on the former.
He took off his glasses and cleaned the lenses with the bottom of his grey jumper. An act of feigned indifference.
‘I don’t believe we’ve met,’ he motioned towards Vranch.
‘Detective Sergeant George Vranch.’
He didn’t show any reaction as he replaced his glasses and clasped his hands together on his desk.
‘Do you know why we’re here?’ I asked him.
‘I have no idea,’ he said. ‘But I bet it isn’t good news. Never is when the police show up on your doorstep, let alone when they do so for a second time.’
I opened the thin file I’d brought up with me and laid out the photo of Elias James. ‘Do you recognise this man?’
Hargreaves leaned forward and pulled the photo smoothly across from the meeting table onto his desk. Keeping his finger pressed down hard on it, he said. ‘Who is he?’
‘You don’t know?’
I saw him glance nervously across at the framed picture of his family on the corner of his desk. For a split second his guard came down, and I saw a very frightened man sitting in front of us.
‘He was murdered several days ago,’ I told him. ‘You may have seen it on the news.’
He shrugged and pushed the photo of Elias James back towards me. ‘I didn’t.’
‘You are quite sure you don’t know who he is?’
He looked at Vranch and then back at me, before he spoke. ‘You came here last week with Detective Cade and all but accused me of murdering two young women. I saw on the news that you have since caught their killer. Now, you turn up and to accuse me of what? Killing this old man? I will tell you this, Detective Dark. When you leave here, I am going to get hold of my lawyer and we are going to have a field day with you.’
‘Mister Hargreaves, we haven’t accused you of anything.’
‘Then why are you here?’
‘So you can help us with our enquiries, by answering some questions.’
He pointed at the picture. ‘You asked, I answered.’
I nodded at the framed photo of his wife. ‘Does she know about your past?’
His eyes narrowed and he turned pale. Now, he knew what was coming.
‘I don’t know what you’re talking about,’ he chanced.
‘We know your real name is Keith Harvey,’ Vranch said, and Hargreaves’s head snapped round. He looked like all the air had been sucked out of him. He gave a huge sigh and his body slumped lower in the seat.
‘You know?’ he said.
‘And you do know Elias James,’ I replied. ‘So, why did you lie to us?’
He leaned back in his chair, and surveyed us both quietly while he pulled himself together. His mind ticking the options over, deciding the best way to play this. He knew his next words could easily condemn him.
‘I had my reasons for changing my name many years ago when I was still a teenager. My wife knows all about it, but it’s not something I advertise.’
‘Did you change your name because of Elias James?’ I asked.
He was drumming his fingers nervously on the table. ‘I want someone in here with me,’ he said.
‘Why would you want that?’ Vranch asked him.
Hargreaves kept his eyes fixed on me. ‘Because I don’t like the way this is going.’
‘Be my guest,’ I said.
He hesitated, understanding that by inviting someone in to listen, he was exposing himself. But he called his PA on the landline. ‘Find Vincent,’ he said to her, ‘and ask him to come in.’
After a moment’s silence, he said, ‘I’ve known Vincent for a long time, and yes, he knows about my past.’
There was a knock on the door and the same balding, pasty-faced guy I met last time came in. Small and skinny, he was dressed all in black. He had a worried look about him and cowered in the doorway before Hargreaves waved him in.
‘Vincent,’ he said. ‘These are detectives. Detectives Dark and…?’
‘Vranch.’
‘And Detective Vranch.’
We shook
hands. ‘We met briefly when I was here last week,’ I reminded him.
‘This won’t take long,’ Hargreaves said.
Vincent looked at us uncertainly before crossing round to sit next to Vranch and opposite me. His eyes had heavy grey smudges and he looked sickly.
Hargreaves noticed the way I was looking at him. ‘Vincent’s not well,’ he said.
‘I’m sorry to hear that,’ I said. I turned to Vincent. ‘Nothing serious, I hope.’
Vincent looked across to his friend and boss for help, and Hargreaves cut across, deliberately ignoring my comment. ‘I don’t have any secrets from Vincent,’ he said. ‘You can speak freely in front of him.’ He smiled sadly at Vincent. ‘They know about my name change and about Elias James.’
Then he turned back to me, and continued. ‘I wasn’t the only one Elias James… affected. There were others before me, and I’m sure many after me.’ He leaned forward for the glass of water that had been sitting on his desk. He took a large swig, wiped the back of his hand across his wet mouth, and swallowed hard, his eyes flitting around the room as he continued talking, now avoiding eye contact with any of us.
‘The first time he made a pass at me was in some toilets on a field trip. I screamed out and ran. A week later, back at school, he said he wanted to talk. He said he felt bad about what had happened. We went behind the Sports Hall where it was quiet, just to talk, he said. He asked me if I had told anyone what happened on the field trip. When I said I hadn’t, he asked, “not even your parents?” I told him, especially not my parents. After I told him that, he started getting very agitated, saying he knew what he had done was wrong….’
There were pools of tears forming in his eyes, and for a moment Hargreaves looked like he was going to crack, but he pushed himself up in his chair and paused briefly to compose himself.
‘He said he found me attractive. Just one kiss, he said. Just one kiss. I had my back against the wall, and he grabbed me by my shoulders and pushed me against it. He was a strong man back then, and I was a slight kid…’
Hargreaves’s eyes glazed over. I looked across at Vranch who was watching him intently, and Vincent who looked uncomfortable, and was looking down at the table.
‘I kept saying “no”, over and over. I did say “no”. I did.’ Hargreaves looked at each of us to check we believed him. ‘But he forced himself against me and then he kissed me, forcing his tongue…it was disgusting. I wanted to throw up. Some kids from an older year saw us. They started screaming, pointing and laughing. Elias James ran off in the opposite direction. When they came over I thought they were checking to see if I was okay. Maybe they would take me to see someone and tell the right people what they had seen him do.
