by Leon, Taylor
‘But they didn’t do that. Instead, they pushed me around. Called me a nonce, and a poof. This was pre-internet, but it didn’t stop a warped version of the story spreading like wild-fire through the school. A story in which I was the one making a pass. A story in which I was willingly on my knees in front of him…you know.’
‘And no one ever spoke to Elias James?’ I asked him.
Hargreaves shook his head, reached for his glass and took another gulp of water. This time, he put it back down with a much steadier hand than before.
‘I heard he paid some boys off to keep their mouths shut,’ he said. ‘That kept all the gossip contained inside the playground.’
‘But he didn’t pay you?’ Vranch asked.
‘I didn’t give him a chance. I bunked school, then went to see the Headmaster with my parents two days later and made the complaint. The witnesses were called in, but said they hadn’t seen anything.’
‘Because he’d already paid them off?’ Vranch said.
‘That’s what I heard. Elias James was a well-respected teacher who got great results. The school didn’t want it to be true, and so were more than happy to go along with the so-called witnesses and trash me as fantasist. Extreme adolescent issues, is how I think it was described. My parents moved me out to another local school, but my name was already mud. So, we changed my name from Harvey to Hargreaves. My parents were against that, but I had tried to kill myself, and they were scared.’
We sat in silence for a couple of minutes before I asked him. ‘Have you seen Elias James since?’
He looked over at me, but didn’t answer.
‘Where were you on the night of the 17th?’ Vranch asked.
‘At work,’ he said. ‘Then home.’
‘Can anyone confirm that?’
He shook his head. ‘I was alone here. My wife will remember me coming home.’
‘What time did you leave here?’
‘I can’t remember,’ he said.
‘You can’t remember?’
‘Seven. Maybe eight.’
His voice was high, he was panicking.
‘Have you heard of PLAYTIME?’ I asked him.
‘What’s that?’
I opened the paper file and laid out the photos of the other numbered victims, moved them around so they were in order. One to five.
Melissa Fairweather.
Jennifer Brooks.
Elias James
Oriane Law.
Amy Harper.
I am target number six, I thought. Will there come a day when Vranch and Cade lay these pictures out, with mine at the end?
‘We know you have a connection with the first two girls,’ I said. ‘What about Oriane Law and Amy Harper?’
He looked at the pictures.
He was trembling.
Shaking.
His face went red, like he was about to combust.
I’ve seen so many criminals act like that when we’ve boxed them into a corner.
All of them guilty.
‘I want my lawyer,’ Hargreaves whispered.
41
HARGREAVES WAS A beaten man as he sat, with his lawyer, opposite us in the interview room. The photos were laid out in front of him, again.
Victims one to five.
Melissa Fairweather.
Jennifer Brooks.
Elias James.
Oriane Law.
Amy Harper.
Target number six pointed to the first three photos. ‘We’ve established you knew Melissa Fairweather, Jennifer Brooks and Elias James,’ I said slowly, and then pointed at the last two photos. ‘How do you know Amy Harper and Oriane Law?’
The lawyer looked up from the notepad he had been hastily scribbling on. He was bald with a round face and wire framed glasses. ‘My client has already told you several times, he doesn’t recognise those two girls.’
‘With respect,’ Vranch said, seated next to me. ‘Earlier today, your client told us he didn’t recognise Elias James either.’
The lawyer, looked at his client, and they made brief eye contact. The lawyer’s face showed abject disappointment, which he tried to hide when he turned back to face us.
‘How long do you intend to keep my client here? We have been going around in circles for over an hour. Do you have any evidence at all, or is this just more police fumbling?’
Vranch ignored him and turned back to Hargreaves. ‘Where were you on the night of the 17th?’
‘My client has already answered that.’
‘Not satisfactorily,’ Vranch replied calmly.
‘I told you,’ Hargreaves said. ‘I worked late and went home.’
‘And,’ Vranch looked down at his notes, ‘you got home around nine pm. What did you do when you got home?’
‘I don’t know. Had dinner.’
‘What did you eat?’
‘I don’t remember.’
‘You don’t remember?’
‘No,’ he said slowly. ‘I don’t remember.’
‘Did you watch TV?’
‘I might have done.’
‘What might you have watched?’
‘It would have been the news.’
‘And what was the main news that evening?’
He threw his head back and looked up at the ceiling. ‘You must be joking.’ He lowered his head. ‘I can’t remember the daily headlines from day to day, can you?’
‘And your wife will confirm all of this?’
He hesitated and his left eye twitched, ever so slightly. ‘Yes.’
‘May I remind you,’ the lawyer said, ‘that my client also willingly submitted to a DNA test.’
He was right, and there wasn’t a match to anything on or around the victims. But of course, I had moved on since then. It wasn’t just a question of finding the killers, now it was as much about unmasking the co-ordinator, the so-called GAMES-MASTER.
I pulled out another photograph, this one of Marcus Simms.
‘Do you recognise this man?’ I asked him.
He frowned. ‘His face is familiar.’
‘Think, Mr Hargreaves.’
He looked up. ‘I may be going mad, but wasn’t he the guy I saw on the news? The one who killed Melissa Fairweather?’
‘His name is Marcus Simms,’ I said. ‘Did you know him?’
‘No,’ he said, as though it was the most ridiculous question he had ever been asked.
‘Have you heard of PLAYTIME?’
‘You asked me that back at my office. No, I haven’t. What is it?’
‘It’s a computer program.’
‘Not one made by my company,’ he said.
‘What about BABYFACE?’
He chuckled nervously. ‘Another computer program?’
‘It’s a name.’
‘Damn stupid name.’
‘A pseudonym.’
He shrugged.
‘FRIGHT-NIGHT?’
‘Please tell me that’s another pseudonym.’
‘THE CHAMELEON?’
‘No, no and no.’
‘Are you THE GAMES-MASTER?’ I asked, and looked him in the eyes.
‘The what?’ he spluttered. He turned to his lawyer. ‘Can I please get out of here?’
The lawyer turned to me. ‘Are you charging my client or not?’
Vranch, motioned toward the door. Can we step outside?
‘Excuse us,’ I said.
We stepped across into the small office along the corridor where Arnie and Cade were watching proceedings on the monitor.
‘We don’t have enough to keep him,’ Arnie said. ‘Besides Elias James, he has a loose connection to two victims and a very vague similarity to the picture and sketch of Oriane Law’s attacker. But it’s not enough.’
‘I need more time,’ I said. I saw Vranch out of the corner of my eye looking at the floor embarrassed and so I added hastily. ‘We need more time.’
‘George?’ Arnie said.
He looked across at me and shook his head. ‘I d
on’t see him as a killer, I’m sorry.’
‘I don’t think he’s one of the killers,’ I said. ‘I think he could be THE GAMES-MASTER, co-ordinating with Marcus Simms and the other two: FRIGHT-NIGHT and THE CHAMELEON.’
‘You’re clutching at straws, Erin,’ Cade said. ‘I don’t see him as some sort of criminal mastermind either.’
‘We don’t even know for sure that THE GAMES-MASTER is a real person,’ Vranch added.
I know THE GAMES-MASTER is a real person, because Jessie and I communicated with him.
‘Indira found a league table on Marcus’s lap top,’ I persisted. ‘It was inside a secret program called PLAYTIME. The table showed the number of kills against three names, with points for each one. It’s a competition. These killers are playing against one another for a prize, and someone is running the show.’
‘If there is, then it sure as hell isn’t him.’ Cade jabbed his finger at the monitor. ‘The guy has a wife, kids and a good business. Why throw it all away?’
Arnie stared at the screen. ‘Erin, I agree with John. Looking and listening to Hargreaves I don’t see it either.’ He looked over at Cade. ‘What about any other alleged victims of Elias James?’
‘The team are tracking down ex-students,’ Cade said, ‘but we are talking about hundreds of kids over many years. There’s no record of anyone making a formal complaint with the school or the police. Even Hargreaves’s complaint wasn’t logged by the school. It’s going to take weeks if not months.’
Arnie nodded and looked back at the screen. ‘And assuming these killers are still active, they’re going to be after target number six. We may not have much time.’
I shifted uncomfortably when he said that.
A knock on the door interrupted us. It was Wills.
‘Mrs Hargreaves is here,’ he said.
Arnie looked across at me. ‘Looks like you’re back on,’ he said.
42
I ASKED VRANCH to keep Hargreaves in the interview room while I spoke with his wife. She was waiting at the front-desk, with Vincent.
‘Hello again, Vincent,’ I said. ‘I’m surprised to see you here.’
‘Louise asked me to bring her over,’ he said, through tired looking eyes. ‘We’re old friends.’
I turned to Hargreaves’s wife, who despite the turn of events, still managed to look as attractive as the holiday photo on her husband’s desk.
‘I’m Detective Erin Dark.’
‘Louise Hargreaves,’ she said, keeping her hands firmly inside her coat pockets. ‘I want to see my husband now.’
‘I’d like to have a chat first,’ I said, ‘if that’s okay?’
‘No, it isn’t,’ she replied tersely. ‘I want to see him’
I looked at the uniformed officer behind the front desk who was carefully watching proceedings, ensuring there was no trouble.
‘We’re still talking with him,’ I said. I stepped back and indicated the doors that led through to the interview rooms. ‘Please?’
She turned to Vincent and brushed her fingers through his hand. ‘Thanks for bringing me,’ she whispered.
‘I’ll wait for you out here,’ Vincent said, touching her arm reassuringly.
‘No Vincent, you really don’t need to stay.’
‘I want to,’ he said.
‘Why don’t you go back to my house, and stay with the boys,’ she said. ‘Let my Mum go home.’
Vincent nodded. ‘Okay, as long as you’re sure.’ He gave Louise one last smile. ‘But make sure you call me if you need anything.’
I guided Louise through the doors into an interview room two doors along from her husband. She declined my offer of a coffee. Resting her handbag on the table, she sat straight down.
‘Your friend Vincent seems very supportive,’ I said to her as I sat down opposite. ‘I met him briefly at your husband’s office. I heard he’s unwell.’
‘He has cancer,’ she said.
‘My God, I’m sorry, I had no idea. How bad is it?’
‘He won’t say so, but I think it’s terminal.’
She looked like she was going to cry, and it was obvious she was fond of him.
‘You two seem close.’
‘We are.’
‘And is your husband close to him as well?’
‘My husband is extremely fond of him.’
I waited a few seconds for her to clear her head. She looked scared. The door opened and Vranch came in and quietly sat down.
‘Please, I want to see my husband,’ she said.
‘I’m afraid you can’t quite yet.’
‘Have you arrested him?’
‘No, we’re talking to him.’
‘About Elias James?’ she said. ‘Vincent told me. My husband didn’t kill him.’
‘Your husband lied to us originally,’ I said. ‘He told us he didn’t know him.’
‘That’s because it was in another life.’
‘With another name.’
She leaned forward over the table. She didn’t have much make-up on. She didn’t need it. She was an attractive lady, even with the stress of all this.
‘Yes, he changed his name,’ she hissed. ‘When he was seventeen. Have you any idea what he went through back then? How his parents, God bless their souls, must have felt for them to let him do that?’
‘I know what he says Elias James did…’
‘What he says?’ Her voice rose with fury. ‘You think he’s making it up? How dare you!’
She closed her eyes and counted to ten. ‘I need a smoke.’ She took another deep breath to calm herself down, opened her handbag and pulled out a packet of cigarettes and a lighter. Vranch finished his cup of water and passed it over for her to use as an ashtray.
After a couple of drags she seemed a little less agitated. ‘He told me you came to see him a few days ago,’ she said, speaking much more softly now. ‘He knew the two girls that had been killed. Well, he had a passing acquaintance with them. I expect that when you asked if he knew Elias James he panicked. He would have worried what you’d do if he knew all three victims.’
‘What would we do?’ Vranch asked.
She laughed nervously. ‘My husband watches too many movies. He’d think you would fit him up.’
She looked at us steadily, as she tapped ash into the cup.
‘He’s lucky to have you,’ Vranch said.
‘You don’t know me,’ she said sternly. ‘I’m lucky to have him.’
There was a knock on the door and Cade poked his head round.
‘Excuse me,’ I said to Louise and stepped out into the corridor with Vranch.
‘We’re letting Hargreaves go,’ Cade said to us. ‘We don’t have enough to charge him. Arnie said to cut him loose.’
I shook my head in frustration.
‘Arnie’s orders,’ Cade said.
‘You can tell Louise,’ I said to Vranch through gritted teeth. ‘I’ll see her husband.’
I went into interview room two where Hargreaves and his lawyer were still waiting.
‘It’s been half an hour,’ his lawyer snapped. ‘Now, either charge my client or-’
‘You can go,’ I said quietly.
That stopped the fat lawyer in mid-flow and brought a large, if tired, grin from his client. He stood up pulling his navy blazer off the back of his chair, and without another word they strode passed me and out the door.
I followed them into the corridor and saw Louise coming out of the other room a little further along. They fell into each other’s arms, whispering quietly. Hargreaves’s lawyer gently urged them forward. With arms defiantly wrapped around one another, they left the station.
Vranch was standing just behind me.
‘You still think it’s him?’ he asked.
‘God knows I hope not,’ I whispered, staring at the doors they had just left through. ‘Otherwise we’ve just put a killer back out on the street.’
My phone buzzed.
Frankie.
Only
it wasn’t her on the other end of the line.
A man’s voice said. ‘Is that Erin?’
‘Who’s this?’
‘My name’s Mick, I’m with Frankie. She wants to know if you’re coming to party with us tonight?’
Then Frankie came on the line. She sounded punch-drunk. ‘Hey, Erin. I found some nice boys for us and wondered if you were up for a party?’
I stepped away from Vranch. ‘Frankie, you sound drunk.’
‘That’s because I am.’
‘I’m still at work. Where are you?’
‘Um...not sure.’ I heard her ask someone in the background.
‘Taste,’ she slurred down the line.
The same nightclub she’d taken me to a few days earlier.
The guy who was with her came back on the line. ‘Frankie says you’re a pretty girl, Erin. Is that true?’
‘Let me speak to her,’ I said.
‘Ohh, I think Frankie’s too busy with my pal Dave to speak right now. But I’m at a loose end. Fancy coming down to keep me company?’
Frankie came back on the line giggling. ‘These guys are real nice, Erin,’ she said. ‘I think you’ll like them.’
‘Frankie-’
Mick, was back on the phone again. ‘How about it? You and me. We can leave Dave to have his evil way with blondie and you and I can do our own thing.’
Enough already.
‘Tell you what, Mick,’ I said, struggling to keep my voice steady, ‘you stay right there. I’m on my way.’
43
TASTE NIGHTCLUB, ten-thirty on a weekday night.
I showed my ID, and they waved me in, the two security guys giving each other a worried look as I passed them.
The place was filling up, the deep throbbing bass pulsing around the dark dance floor on the far-side. I stood out, dressed in my work clothes, smart suit jacket and trousers.
I made eye contact with the bartender whom I recognised from the last time I was here. As I approached the bar, he leaned over.
