by Toni Parks
“OK, M. Hope you’re feeling better soon,” replied Jessica on her own way to the bathroom as she wrestled her way out of her sports bra. “Hope you’ve left me some hot water?” Emma never replied as all her attention was devoted to switching on the TV and choosing the most applicable DVD to suit her delicate mood. And true to her word she was no bother for the rest of the day. Jessica fed and watered her, worked around her and shivered every now and again for no apparent reason. It was not until she came to the washing up that she realised several mugs and plates were in the wrong place. She challenged Emma but was satisfied by her adamancy that she had not been near the kitchen either the previous night or during the day. That being the case Jessica returned them to their correct location, shivered once more and then the odd feeling left her completely. ‘Talk about walking over your grave,’ she thought spookily, ‘now I know how Barnham must be feeling.’
*
DC Blister’s workload prevented any further immediate involvement in what now appeared to be a wild goose chase but even after three days he was still struggling to shake the remnants of that day from his overloaded brain. He recalled returning from the airport and arriving back at the station, both empty handed and unaccompanied. Frustration had preceded him with the revolving door having reached a previously unattainable speed. His mind had played tricks by conjuring up images of Barnham immediately dropping into an inspector’s role and proceeding to run rings around, if not both then, at least one of the girls. He knew it had been a long shot using Barnham but his therapy had been advancing well and the thumbs up had been given for him to attend the interviews. With hindsight it was way too soon and the DC felt a pang of remorse for the pressure he had applied in the hope of attaining a more positive result. In the end Barnham had proved more of a hindrance and probably prevented anything useful being inadvertently revealed. Whether the DC envisaged playing the Barnham card a complete failure or not, there was one thing for certain in that Emma could not get Barnham out of her head.
‘“He’s alive.” That’s what she had said. Those were her first words, but what did she really mean? Perhaps I should have spoken to her, after all. She might have let something slip.’ Thinking aloud, and once again putting more pressing detection on the back burner, he reached the midpoint on yet another read through of the Borders serial killer’s files. He knew that it was not really his case, with him being tasked to only tidy up loose ends, but it would not leave him alone and he in turn worried it incessantly, as a dog might a bone. The last thing any other detective assigned to the case expected from the DC was a positive lead, which could eventually lead to the murderer’s identification and subsequent capture. He sat doodling as he read and ended up drawing a ring around Emma’s DNA result. The one, which DI Barnham had deduced was her lipstick smudge on the hankie and so tied her into the first murder victim. ‘What’s the precise wording again, ‘a close match but not exact.’ And he realised in truth that was still the closest any detective had come to naming the murderer. The DC threw his pen on top of the now slightly ‘dog eared’ report and went in search of a very late lunch.
After a brisk walk, he’d already crossed the Royal Mile and arrived at Grassmarket where he joined the queue just outside the door of his favourite deli. He estimated that by being just outside he would have at least a ten-minute wait but the end result was always worth the time lost. He stood motionless except for the imperceptible alternating flexing of his quad muscles and the slight bending of the knees. He put it down to too much deskwork and made a mental note to renew his gym membership before his body was given a chance to rebel against the idea. By this time he was looking at the two young sisters rushing around the other side of the counter. Cutting, chopping, filling and bagging a variety of tasty looking snacks for customers to consume in whatever limited time they had been allotted. He ordered and marvelled at their dexterity and the fact that neither had a single plaster on any of their delicate fingers, even though they were constantly handling sharp implements, and at speed.
However, there is nothing like tempting providence and as the DC was being handed his ‘hot Sicilian’ sandwich and a cappuccino whilst handing over his cash, he heard the exclamation of an, ‘Ouch’. The exclaimer immediately sucked on her finger and mumbled about needing a plaster. “Steph, don’t use the cloth on the drainer I’ve been using that.”
“No bother, Jan. I’m not going to catch anything I haven’t got, now am I?” And that was the end of the conversation, within DC Blister’s hearing anyway. He left the deli thankful that the mishap had not happened earlier as it would have extended his wait significantly.
At this time of day there were plenty of free benches to rest on and while away a few minutes in the sun. Denny Blister chose one with a good view of the square so that he could eat, drink, think and people-watch all at the same time. Not that he was looking for anyone in particular, not a criminal or a girlfriend but one never knew one’s luck. As with Steph, the detective had his own, ‘Ouch’ moment. The sandwich he was at that moment eating suddenly swelled in his mouth and brought on a coughing fit. He managed to liquify the food with a swig of his coffee and then felt a burning sensation on the roof of his mouth. But it was worth it. ‘Steph, I’m sure that was her name, or was it the other one, said, ‘don’t use the cloth on the drainer I’ve been using that.’ And her sister, whatever she was called, replied, ‘I’m not going to catch anything I haven’t got?’ Or words to that effect.’ At this point he began to feel a little flushed and his palms became damp and sweaty, neither reaction being as a result of his coughing fit nor an allergic reaction to the sandwich.
He jumped up spilling the bulk of his coffee over his half eaten panini, rushed back to the station and went in search of DS James Tarbert. They both collided in the door entrance/exit, dependent on which direction you were heading. DS Tarbert had one external meeting and then would be finished for the day and unlike DC Blister he did have a gym to go to and a real girlfriend too.
“Sorry Sir. I know you’re on your way out but do you have a minute?”
“What is it now Blister? Been eating too many e-additives again?”
“No Sir, sorry Sir. But I know I’m not meant to be on the actual Borders serial murders case, well not looking for the murderer anyway. But I think I’ve actually found a link and I’d like to pass it by you and at least follow it up. Only problem is, well two problems actually: one I need authorisation to get a DNA sample from Jessica Lambert and two, I need a warrant to search files at The Borders Agency.”
“And your reason for both these requests?”
“Do you remember reading about a piece of evidence found at the first murder? A hankie with smudged lipstick on it? It was DNA’d and proved not to be a close enough match against Emma Flynn. Well, the clue went cold there and nobody has since thought that now we know Emma has a sister, a twin at that, then that match could possibly be even closer. In fact, perfect. What do you think?”
“Well, you’re obviously more immersed in the minutiae of the case than I am at the moment but in principal your logic stands up. I’ve no time to discuss it now, you’ll have to let me sleep on it and I’ll get back to you in the morning. What was the other point about a warrant?”
“Yes again, being a bit geeky. T/DC Murray, you know the officer who was meant to be on holiday but never returned. Well she intimated that one of the reports at The Borders Agency had a bearing on the case but she never got the opportunity to follow it through. Jessica Lambert’s boss put a block on the search as there was no warrant to cover Data Protection.”
“Yes, I’ll definitely have to sleep on it now. And by your appearance, that’s what you need too. You look like shit. You need to get a life outside work, perhaps find yourself a nice girl or join a gym, anything to stop you being so geeky. I’ll get back to you first thing.”
*
Now they were home Jessica hoped that life would begin to return to some form of normality, that is taking into con
sideration that a multiple murderess and an attempted murderess could freely continue with their daily routines unchallenged. But in reality that was the case; having returned from Italy she was enthusiastic about again becoming a familiar sight dropping in and out of the shops within St Boswells and was more than happy to introduce her long lost twin sister as and when the situation arose. Her intention was that their present life would portray a far cry from the hectic weeks they had endured and she knew in no uncertain terms how lucky they were to be able to live discreetly, out of the newshounds’ headlines and with a large inheritance to dip into when necessary. The thought was comforting, of being able to mingle with everyday people who had no intention of kidnapping them, let alone murdering either one in the street. But she knew Emma would still brood over Terry and ponder at what damage her actions had done to his health.
And Emma did worry about his health and more worryingly understood that in his current mental state she would mean nothing to him. Although her gut feelings and intuition told her that their relationship had not yet reached closure. She appreciated that Jessica would quickly despair of her guilt trip for Barnham and so switched to more of a health kick in the belief that she would be able to will her ex boyfriend to get well soon, by some form of osmosis. And so what had started with her constant harping on, quickly resolved itself into her suffering the present separation in silence.
*
Considering DC Blister spent a night of silence, he still did not waken feeling fresh. If anything the fight he had with his duvet, which he lost by the way, and the nightmare featuring Jessica being compensated for victimisation, left the DC anything but refreshed. And now he knew that with the time still only registering 6.00 he had at least a three hour wait before a higher power pressed the operation button on what he felt was a no-brainer. Well it had been a no-brainer last night, before he went to bed and now in the cold light of day it seemed anything but. Still, he had to go through the motions and so presented himself bright and early to hear the outcome: good or bad.
Bright and early too came DS Tarbert and DI Boyd Gregor, in close formation. They both filed into DCI Fingal Soutar’s office, to which DC Blister was called within the next ten minutes. The DCI addressed him, “DC Blister. I’ve just been made aware of your deductions on the Borders Serial Murders cases and I commend you for your diligence, perseverance and with what could become a major breakthrough. I’m minded that the work you have undertaken is not strictly in your remit but I will not let that take away any of the beneficial kudos which may head your way. Independently, I have been reading reports on former DI Barnham’s progress and your continuing part in his restorative therapy. In a nutshell Blister you’re turning into quite a useful detective. With that in mind I have instructed both DI Gregor and DS Tarbert to carry out the detention of Jessica Lambert for interview with a view to obtaining her DNA too and preparing the necessary paperwork to obtain a warrant to check these damn files at The Borders Agency.”
The smile nearly alighting across DC Blister’s face vanished at the conclusion of the DCI’s dialogue. “Don’t looks so glum. I presumed you’d take it as read that you would be co-opted as part of that team. Can’t have you missing all the fun, now can we? Dismissed.”
The DC left the office, along with the more senior officers, and immediately knocked a bundle of files off the nearest desk as he accidentally veered into it. “Blister. It was touch and go whether we let you tag along, particularly with your not too subtle nickname around here of ‘bull in a china shop’. Let’s be seeing less of this and more of what has so impressed the DCI, eh,” commented the DS as he ordered a lackey to tidy up the mess. DC Blister regained his balance, flushed up, stuck his head in one of his desk drawers and proceeded to move around items in order to recompose himself unseen.
“OK. Listen up,” began DI Gregor addressing any and all detectives within his hearing. “I want a car dispatched to St Boswells, that’s right isn’t it, Blister? A Jessica Lambert is to be apprehended. I don’t see any reason to beat about the bush. She is being brought in to supply a DNA sample and possibly answer further questions regarding her role at The Borders Agency. And that could be just the start of it. We may be at the point of a serious breakthrough in the Borders serial murders, meaning an additional workload all round. So don’t be planning your social life too far ahead. Right DS Tarbert. I want you and the DC of the moment here to do the honours. Let me know when you’re back and I’ll sit in on the interview.” All eyes followed DC Blister as he followed the DS. He began to wish that he had left the possible DNA ‘Eureka’ link to another officer, feeling that he was not cut out for life in the limelight. Could he actually be the officer who tracked down this serial killer?
CHAPTER THREE DI Brenda Barbour stood ten storeys up on the outside of an unfinished building sporting a hard-hat and high visibility jacket. Elegant she was not, but safe and warmish, she was. The large sheets of polythene cladding the open metal poles, snapped and thundered as the bitterly cold wind continued to batter the coastline. Her appreciation of the danger that builders faced everyday working in such conditions was upper most in her mind, as too was the perception that her presence meant she had drawn the short straw. Her own fear of heights combined with the unseasonable weather didn’t dissuade her of either view as she continued to think that DCI John McVay was taking revenge on her team’s lack of success in solving the murder of Jeremy Longthorne, a local solicitor and recognised figure in the city. It was good that a DI had cracked the case, but not particularly that it was a Scotland Yard DI, as opposed to one of their own; but at least it was a woman. And not having a head for heights she fought tooth and nail to get out of this particular crime scene, but without success.
She had climbed precariously up stairs and ladders and now clung on for dear life to the scaffolding poles that protected her from a 30-metre plummet to instant death. As she orientated herself, DC Norman Brownlee offered, “Look Ma’am. Doesn’t it make you wonder how insignificant we are when directly below you are the docks, sprawling out to meet the vast expanse of the relentless North Sea and then looking further east there’s no land until you reach Kristiansand in Norway.”
“Yes, thank you for that, DC Brownlee. A very sobering thought. Now let’s take a look at this circus, I don’t feel overly comfortable walking around up here.”
“Sorry, ma’am. This way. Just watch your step, these boards can be slippery with the overnight frost.”
“I’m fully aware of this unexpected cold snap, my hands have almost been sticking to the scaffolding on the way up but thanks for your concern, anyway.” DI Barbour mouthed to the wind as she came upon the body of Joey Donaldson and she had to admit that if the wind had not taken her breath away then the sight definitely would have done so. Joey Donaldson was strapped to a sculpture of scaffolding tubes with his whole being: head, torso and legs angled downwards so that his head was immersed in a pool. But the shock was, not so much the contraption but, more that the pool was not liquid but a block of ice. Joey Donaldson had ended his life with his head submersed in water, which had then frozen it in time. She felt nauseously hot despite the near freezing temperature.
The tableau itself shocked no-one as the drawn-out murder had been played out on the Internet for at least six hours. Shocked viewers in their millions had woken up to become voyeurs of the death of this man and those with insomnia had experienced the drama in real time. It had taken three hours before one such viewer plucked up the courage to inform the police with most insomniacs watching at that time of night immediately thinking it a prank or stunt by students or such like. But David Blaine it was not and once Police Scotland were notified it then became a matter of urgency in identifying the location. The ghoulish video link had in-sync audio too but edited so as to withhold any comments from the victim that may have given clues as to the location. To DI Barbour this added an extra layer of brutality as the perpetrator purposely hung the victim out to die with the intention of the entire
world looking on.
“Listen up people. I don’t want anyone touching or displacing anything without due cause. Shoot all the pictures you see, then we’ll have to let the pathologists do their work on the body and forensics can then dismantle the structure. Let’s hope for humanity’s sake that some clues have been left in its making. DCs Brownlee and Grant, I want both of you to stay back and offer any assistance that may be required. The rest of you I suggest we vacate and meet up back at HQ within the hour. That should give you all enough time to warm yourselves up in whatever fashion you feel best.” With that the DI began the decent in a gingerly manner ensuring that every step downwards was secure before releasing her foothold or handgrip from the previous one.
Nursing a mug of steaming coffee, DI Barbour delighted in its aroma and heat as she brought her team to some form of order. Several had been up since 3.00 involved in the identification of the building’s location. But all without exception took some time to quieten down in view of having witnessed such a bizarre sight. “OK. Back on terra firma, let’s try to get a handle on this. Anyone have any idea for a motive? Anyone know the victim? Who owns the building? Any CCTV cameras operating in the immediate vicinity? Certainly, plenty of answers needed here. Anybody want to add more questions?” The DI made annotations on the white board as she made the last statement.
DC Eric Thorne offered, “What were the video and audio feeds connected to?”
“Do we presume that the perpetrator, or perpetrators, knew the layout of the building or was it chosen at random?” asked Campbell, formulating additional questions as he spoke.
