by L M Krier
He put gloves on before he stood the canvas upright and carefully unwrapped it.
'I give you Chaos, by Morgane Edwards. I want to show this to the shrink when I talk to him. Any news on that front?'
'He was seeing her this morning, but I don't know if he's done that yet. He promised to come in and find us once he'd finished. So, what am I looking at here? It just looks like a bloody mess to me, but I'm not remotely artistic. Bella despairs of me. She likes going to art galleries and stuff like that. I'd rather eat my own eyeballs.
'Oh, and before I forget, Doug's been trying to get hold of you for the last half hour. He says he has some results for you.'
'I'll call him in a minute, then. And what you're looking at here is precisely that – a bloody mess. I'll need Doug to confirm it for me, after I've shown it to the psych, but unless I'm much mistaken, this is cat fur, and I do have six of them, and these, down here, are cat claws. So I'm guessing that the red is cat's blood, or possibly from another animal.'
Jim looked at him in horror.'
'Christ, Ted! So you're saying this young lass skinned that cat alive and pulled its claws out to make a painting?'
'I think you call it a collage,' Ted said dryly. 'You should go to those galleries with Bella. You could learn a thing or two.'
'Piss off, Ted,' Jim growled, but his tone was good-natured. They were old friends, both away from the office and at work.
Ted grinned at him as he got his phone out to call Doug. Sometimes it was a bit of banter between friends which provided the antidote to the dark side of human nature which confronted them almost daily.
'Doug. Make my day and tell me you have good news for me.'
'I have good news for you, boss,' he responded dutifully. 'Morgane's prints identified on the python's tank, so you have her there. Yes, semen can, and is, regularly frozen, for things like artificial insemination, without it degrading, although it's not usually done in a home freezer, so I need to investigate further and see if there's any way we can show that. And finally, because I know you're up against it on this one, I'm going to surprise you with another best guess.
'We're still working on the prints we got from the mobile phone this morning to get a reliably accurate match to Morgane's. But we've lifted them and I'm biking the phone over to you so your CFI can start digging into its innards as soon as. What I will say is that the prints on it are a definite match for the ones on the python tank and for many we found at the house. I'm within a cat's whisker of telling you we can definitely place the phone in Morgane's fair hands.'
Ted gave an involuntary shudder at the mention of cats' whiskers after what he'd seen that morning.
'Speaking of our feline friends, once I've spoken to the psychologist, I'll be sending over to you one of Morgan's collages which we lifted from the school. I want you to identify all the substances used in its construction, please. And Doug, this may possibly be something you would prefer to pass on to a colleague to work on. I know you're a professional but I'll admit, it's something I'm struggling with a bit.'
It was mid-afternoon when Bill called up from the front desk to tell Ted his visitor had arrived and he was sending him up with a PC to escort him. It was young Gavin Jackson once again who tapped on the door to show the man in. Ted thanked him and stood up to introduce himself. They had the office to themselves. Jim was downstairs, balancing budgets with the Ice Queen.
'Ted Darling. Thanks for doing this so quickly, I appreciate it.'
The man was tall, gangling and thin. He looked about mid-forties but his hair was more silver than grey, its style haphazard. He was wearing comfortable cords, gone baggy at the knees, with an open shirt and tweed jacket. He looked like an actor who'd come to audition for the part of a mad professor, Ted thought, as he invited him to sit down.
'Anthony Hopkins. Yes, really. Like the Hannibal Lecter actor. The only difference is that I pronounce the Th and he doesn't, and I don't usually eat people's livers, with or without fava beans. So I imagine we can begin by bonding over difficult names, growing up.'
Ted smiled. He liked him already.
'I usually begin by offering my visitors a drink. Can I offer you a tea, or some coffee?'
He stood up to put the kettle on. Hopkins turned to look at what was on offer.
'Ah, green tea would be very Zen after the morning I've had,' he said, shaking his head to sugar or honey.
Ted put their drinks in front of them and sat down, his notebook ready to make jottings.
'So, our Morgane. What did you make of her? What can you tell me about her?'
'May I call you Ted? Do please call me Anthony. Let me say at the outset, Ted, that I am not someone prone to exaggeration or drama. I've worked with young offenders for most of my professional career. I didn't think there was anything left which could shock me.
'I have to tell you, Ted, in all seriousness, that Morgane Edwards scares me. I could tell you she was a psychopath with sociopathic tendencies. Or vice versa. Nowadays, all such recognised conditions are somewhat lumped together as Antisocial Personality Disorder, which sounds rather benign, doesn't it? I can tell you without hesitation that there is nothing whatsoever benign about Morgane.'
'Is she insane? Can her defence enter an insanity plea?'
'Ah, mens rea and all that. What a legal quagmire that is. Most courts would certainly find that sixteen is well within the age of discretion and therefore she would be presumed by law to be sane and to be accountable for her actions, unless the defence can successfully prove otherwise. Personality disorder is a clinically recognised mental disorder, so they would have some leeway there.
'Is she insane? No, probably not. Is she able to recognise right from wrong? No, absolutely not. I hope you have a watertight case against her, Ted, as this young lady is, in my professional opinion, extremely dangerous and very likely to offend again. My personal advice, for what that's worth, is you should attempt to remand her in custody, to a secure children's unit, as soon as possible.'
'I don't yet have a strong case. Will she confess in interview, do you think?'
'Confess isn't quite the right word. It implies some acceptance of culpability. I'm serious when I say she won't recognise that she has done anything wrong. She will be able to justify her actions to herself and will expect others to accept that justification, too. However, she might well tell you what she's done. She might even be proud of her actions, especially if she thinks she's been cleverer than anyone else.
'There's something else I should mention, Ted, although you may well have picked up on it already. There's likely to be a strong sexual element in this. It's highly probable that Morgane was sexually precocious and is promiscuous. She may well get sexual gratification from her acts. Indeed, that may be her main motive. I had the distinct impression throughout that she was trying to flirt with me.'
'I had exactly the same. It made me uncomfortable.'
'On that subject, although there is no reason why there would be a connection, I just wondered about her relationship with her father? She did talk about him rather a lot and in a way which I found a little unsettling and, I would say, a bit immature for her age, if you understand me?'
'We have a Family Liaison Officer with them. She and I have both remarked on the same thing. He won't, of course, be able to be present for any further interviews now as he may well be called as a witness by either side.
'I've got this collage she did. We think it links her to a series of animal torture cases the RSPCA are investigating.'
Hopkins gave it barely a glance before replying, 'Wouldn't surprise me at all. That would also fit with the sexual element.'
'What about emotions? I thought psychopaths didn't have any, or didn't show them. Yet she's broken down in tears several times when we've been talking to her.'
'Ah yes, I had that treatment, too. She won't actually feel the same emotions as others, but she will have learnt to produce the actions normally associated with them. By watching other peopl
e, or perhaps watching telly, she will have learnt that in such and such a situation you might produce tears. They won't be genuine, though.'
'What about pain? We think she inflicted the head injury on herself, twice over, and that must have hurt, surely?'
'She will feel pain, in all probability, but she will see it as a means to an end, nothing more. Don't forget, she is someone extremely calculating, highly manipulative. Which is what makes her so very dangerous.'
'Thank you for all of this, it's been most helpful. Am I right in thinking, based on what you've said, that there is no reason why I don't now interview her under caution? The defence aren't going to jump all over me claiming she was unfit?'
'Oh, they will certainly try to. So it will just come down to their psychologist and me, in court, trying to prove who has the most impressive one.'
It was clearly an old joke he used frequently as, after a staged pause, he smiled and winked at Ted.
'Qualification, that is.'
Another late night for Ted, yet another snatched meal, and the prospect of an early start again. Trev had broken their camp in the garden and put everything away. He felt Ted deserved to return to the comfort of the bedroom.
'With a bit of luck and a following wind, we'll have our prime suspect safely locked up before the weekend so if we do, I promise we'll do something special together. Maybe some real camping? We could go to the Lakes? Or Snowdonia? Whatever you fancy.'
'That sounds wonderful. Billirant, in fact. Especially this weekend. But don't make promises you can't keep, Ted.'
'No, really, I'll do it. I'll officially book myself off. I'll even leave the phone behind, if it makes you any happier. Jim keeps telling me the team can manage without me, so I'll put them to the test. I just have tomorrow to get through first, and it's likely to be tough. I'm interviewing our prime suspect, and both the psych and I think she's a serial killing psychopath.'
'Ah, yes. Tomorrow. Well, you know what they say. We've got tonight. Who needs tomorrow?'
Ted kissed him quickly, before he could start singing and massacring one of his favourite songs.
Ted had brought the morning briefing forward half an hour. He wanted to be fully prepared for his first formal interview with Morgane. Kate had told him the defence team were ahead of him on the appropriate adult issue. Her solicitor didn't count as such, so she would be accompanied by her godmother, her late mother's secretary.
Kate was taxed with keeping the father out of harm's way. He was insisting on accompanying them to the station, but Ted wanted him well out of the way. He and his daughter were still staying at the hotel so he was sending an area car to pick Morgane and her godmother up from there.
Ted's plan was to allow Morgane to be released on police bail after interview, but to offer a strong objection to continued bail once she was charged and put up before magistrates the following day. With the psych evaluation, they could hopefully show enough possibility of the risk of re-offending for her to be remanded in custody.
He'd just finished the briefing when his mobile rang. The screen told him it was Willow calling which surprised and alarmed him in equal measure. Jim was busy talking to Virgil and being shown the baby pictures, so he took the opportunity of an empty office to go in there to take the call.
'Hello, Willow, this is an unexpected surprise. To what do I owe the honour?'
There was a pause before she said, 'You really have forgotten, haven't you? Ted, I've just been speaking to Trev and he's a bit upset.'
Ted felt his heart do some sort of a flip, or perhaps it was his stomach dropping down from where it should have been. He groaned.
'Oh, God, it's today, isn't it? His birthday? Shit! I'm so, so sorry. I know it sounds lame, but it really is this case. It's driven everything else out of my head. I'll call him now. Thanks, Willow.'
Trev's reply was more terse than usual. He clearly was upset.
Ted started to sing softly. Stevie Wonder. Not Happy Birthday; that would have been too obvious. I Just Called To Say I Love You.
After the fourth line, Trev gave in and laughed, the warmth back in his voice.
'I am so very sorry I forgot. Honestly. I can't promise anything for tonight, but I'm going to spoil you rotten at the weekend. I'll get back as soon as I can tonight. Love you.'
As soon as he'd finished the call, Ted went back into the main office and looked around. He hated to use his team members as gophers but desperate times called for desperate measures. Megan was still at her desk and always seemed approachable so he went over to her.
'Megan, I'm really sorry to ask, but I am deep in the do-do with Trev and I need a big favour, if you're going out at all today?'
'Of course, boss, no worries. What can I do for you?'
'I forgot his birthday. I need you to get me a nicely wrapped single red rose.'
She looked at him and smiled.
'Last of the big spenders, eh?'
'No, it's a joke between us. But you're right, dammit. Get three. Three red roses. And thank you.'
He got his wallet out and handed her a note.
'I'd also appreciate you keeping this quiet. I'll never live it down otherwise.'
'Your secret is safe with me, boss.'
Morgane was sitting serenely at the table in the interview room, between a matronly older woman in a fluffy cardigan and the person Ted knew to be her solicitor. She was a formidable defence lawyer, a real street fighter. Her impeccable designer suit was so sharp it almost constituted an offensive weapon.
Ted had chosen Jezza to accompany him. Her keen perception could be useful to him. He introduced her and himself, got the formalities out of the way and started the tapes running. He asked the other three to identify themselves for the purpose of the tape.
He'd brought a bag in with him and put it down at his feet. He reached into it and took out an item in a plastic bag, which he laid on the table.
'Morgane, do you know what this is?'
'Is it off a guitar?' she asked, reaching out to pick it up, then looking to him for permission to do so. He nodded.
'No, not a guitar,' she said, examining it closely. 'A violin, I think. We did some still life studies of musical instruments in art. I thought it was boring.'
'Do you know where this one came from?'
'No idea. From a violin, I suppose,' she replied, with no apparent trace of irony.
'And what about this?'
He lifted out the purse which had been found in the shed.
'Oh, that. I found that in a waste-paper bin, not far from my gran's house, in Wythenshawe. I don't know why I kept it really. I just saw it sticking out of the top of the bin.'
Her solicitor interrupted her smoothly.
'Don't forget what I told you, Morgane. You don't have to answer any of these questions at this stage, if you don't want to.'
The girl looked at her in surprise, her blue eyes widening.
'I don't mind. Why would I? I'm just trying to help them to find out who killed my mum.'
'And what about this?'
The mooning garden gnome made his bare-bottomed appearance alongside the other items. The girl laughed delightedly, as if at the sight of an old friend.
'Oh, that's Gordon the garden gnome. I got him for my gran, ages ago, for her birthday.'
'Got him or bought him?' Jezza queried, picking up on the turn of phrase.
For a moment, the expression in Morgane's blue eyes changed. There was a flash of something like anger. Or contempt. She looked annoyed by the interruption.
'Bought him, of course. From a garden centre. Why?'
At that moment, there was a quiet knock and a PC in uniform put his head round the door.
'Sir, sorry to interrupt. Can I speak to you a moment?'
Ted nodded to Jezza to follow procedure with the tape, then stepped out into the corridor.
'There's a message from your DI upstairs. He needs you to go up and he says it's worth interrupting you for. And not to shoot the messen
ger, sir.'
'Thank you. Please could you arrange drinks for everyone in there, and please tell DC Vine I'll be back shortly.'
He took the stairs two at a time, eager to see what was so important that Jo had called him away from the interview.
The first thing he noticed was that Steve was crouching down next to Océane's desk, a protective arm around her. She was looking pale, wiping at her mouth with a paper handkerchief. Jim Baker was looming over her, making what were clearly intended to be consoling noises. Jo and Mike Hallam were standing behind her, looking at her computer screen.
'Sorry to interrupt, boss, but you really do need to see what Océane's just found on Morgane's second phone. It's not pretty, though.'
Ted strode across the office, feeling bad that he hadn't warned her that any images she found were likely to be graphic. The screen showed the skinned cat incident in the park, blown up to full size. Even though Ted had seen the real thing, he somehow found this image of it even worse.
'Océane, I'm really sorry, I should have warned you. Are you all right? Do you want to go home?'
'I'm sorry, boss, it was just a bit worse than I was expecting. I only just made it to the ladies' in time. But I would say that just about everything you need is on here.'
'Why don't you take a short break? Go and have a cup of tea or something?'
He looked around the office for someone to send with her. Megan was out, Jezza was downstairs. But Maurice was there, and he was the obvious person to send.
'Maurice, can you go with her, please?'
'I'll go, boss,' Steve said, standing up and looking eager to do something to help.
'Sorry, Steve, we need you here to work this thing for us. One of us may break something, or wipe vital evidence. Océane, you're in safe hands with Maurice. Take as long as you need.'
As they went out of the office together, Ted told Steve, 'Right, please show me everything you found on the phone. Can you print some of it off for me? I'll tell you which ones.'
