‘No. I just let him talk. We were going to debrief him properly at Lewes. Fuck!’
‘So we have nothing on this older guy?’
Jack shook his head in deep frustration. ‘Nothing. We only know his nickname and that he obviously resided in Brighton or Hove at the time. According to Bowles, he has dark hair, blue eyes, freckles.’
‘Well, terrific. That really narrows it down.’
He grunted. ‘Bowles said he spoke with an accent — not very strong though.’
‘What type of accent?’
‘Bowles couldn’t pinpoint it. Said he was like Val Doonican, so we’re guessing Irish.’
‘Right, well, that might lead somewhere. Something did occur to me last night, sir ... er, it was why I came over to Highgate this morning. I thought I’d share it after such a sleepless time of it.’
He ignored her awkward manner. ‘Go on.’
‘I was thinking about why a woman might wait thirty years — a lifetime, almost — to take revenge. This bloke we now know about aside, they were all kids when it occurred and it seemed to me that the passing years must have allowed her to heal and look at that time from a mature perspective — perhaps see it for the madness it was.’
‘And?’ He had to hand it to Kate. He liked the way her mind worked.
‘Well, it got me thinking as to what might then prompt that same mature woman to go so suddenly beserk.’
‘Have you come up with a scenario?’
‘Well, sir, I know you don’t like us to generalise but I believe there are a couple of major things that can cause a woman to turn violent: her passion for a man, and-or for her family.’
‘What are you saying?’
‘Perhaps Anne McEvoy had sudden relationship problems.’
‘A woman scorned? And you think that’s enough to send her on a psychotic killing rampage thirty years later?’
‘No, sir, but I think it could be part of it. I think if her emotions were suddenly smashed around by the man in her life, it might have put her into a depressed state that took her back to that awful time.’
‘Too thin, Kate.’
‘Okay, hear me out. The other element is family. I don’t know a mother alive who could stay calm if her child was threatened in any way.’ The silence was deafening. ‘Sir?’
‘Your instincts do you credit, Kate.’
‘Why? What do you know?’
‘We learned from Bowles that Anne McEvoy’s baby may have survived the attack.’
‘Get out!’
‘Bowles heard it cry, saw Pierrot wrap it in some old clothing. He doesn’t know what happened after that.’
‘That means the child could be nearing thirty. You think McEvoy’s just found out?’
‘It’s still thin, Kate. If the child is alive, are we assuming she found out before or after she began her killing? If it’s after, then something else triggered her revenge.’
‘We’re going around in circles on this, aren’t we?’
‘Yes; however, I think it all has merit. Get on to Tandy and give him all the information we have. Ask whether, in his professional opinion, someone who had suffered this sort of trauma in childhood, survived it, went on to live a seemingly normal life, could then lose the plot thirty years on because of some other trauma. And would such a person be capable of brutal murder?’
‘I’ll call him immediately,’ Kate said.
‘Okay . . . here comes Brodie. The ambulance is here too. I’d better go. For now our priority is Fletcher.’
‘Sir . . . er . . .’
‘What?’
‘There is something else.’
He could hear the hesitation in her voice, the reluctance to say what was on her mind. ‘Go on.’
‘Well, it’s about Sophie, sir.’
Jack took an audible breath. ‘Kate —’
‘Sir, it’s not my intention to meddle in your private life.’
‘Then don’t.’
‘It’s just that I spoke to her earlier.’
‘I did too. I gather you weren’t exactly friendly.’
‘That’s not true, sir. I —’
‘She was trying to find me and you seemed reluctant to help.’
‘Again, not true, sir. I did all I could to help, under the circumstances. Brodie had just got off the phone telling me that you were interviewing Bowles and couldn’t be interrupted. I offered to take a message. In fact —’
‘Good. What did she say?’ He heard Kate suck back her irritation at being interrupted for the second time.
‘She asked me to tell you that she’d reached Devon, it was cold and rainy and her mother is fine,’ Kate said, her voice terse.
‘Thank you. I already know all of this.’
‘Except —’
‘Except what, Kate?’ Jack’s voice suddenly had a dangerous edge.
He heard her take a breath. ‘Except it’s not raining in Devon today, sir. It’s cold but there’s also a perfectly serene blue sky and sunshine across the whole region. I checked.’
‘You checked?’ His voice had become icy.
‘I — I don’t mean to —’
‘Kate, I have no idea where you think you’re going with this. I shouldn’t have to justify anything to you. Can we leave it that Sophie is in Devon — no matter what the weather — and lunching with her mother at the George in South Molton. They’re having roast of the day if you must know.’
‘Jack, please, I —’
‘You know, Kate, I don’t think we can continue working together. It’s certainly not healthy for you, and I’m finding your interest in my love life dismaying and uncomfortable. I’m really sorry to lose you but I think we should get you reassigned from next week. It will be easier for all of us.’
‘That won’t be nec—’
‘Talk to you later,’ he said, clicking off before Kate could say anything more. He’d had enough of her and her meddling for today. He dialled Martin Sharpe — in case Kate decided to call back.
In the operations room, Kate stared miserably at the phone. Jack was clearly pissed off with her now. His legendary tolerance and good humour was all spent.
‘I assume that didn’t go well,’ Sarah said, coming over and perching herself on the corner of Kate’s desk.
‘He’s reassigning me next week.’
‘Oh, Kate.’ Sarah paused, waited for Kate to say something, but when she didn’t, she added, ‘I’m so sorry it’s got this far, but what did you expect? I told you not to say anything.’
‘But the facts are there. Something’s wrong, something’s up. I don’t trust her.’
‘You don’t even know her! Why should your boss’s new girlfriend, someone who has never met you, work to gain your trust?’ Sarah asked, incredulous.
Kate shook her head. ‘She’s lying, Sarah.’
‘But what’s it to you whether she’s in Devon or not? That’s DCI Hawksworth’s business. I can’t believe you’d involve yourself in his private life like this.’
Kate wasn’t listening. ‘Something isn’t right here. Why is she lying?’
‘Listen, has it occurred to you that she might be planning a surprise for him? Perhaps she’s deliberately set this up to make him believe that she’s out of town but she’s really at home preparing him a fabulous surprise meal and getting herself gorgeous for a night of hot sex.’
‘No, that’s just it, she’s not. She was guarded. She was too deliberate. I could hear it.’
‘You’re hearing what you want to, Kate. You hate her simply because she’s with him.’
Kate fixed her colleague with a wintry stare. ‘Sarah, you’re not putting this together at all, are you? Jack admits that he only met Sophie very recently. Isn’t that convenient?’
‘For what? For whom?’
‘For the case.’
‘What? How about coincidental?’
‘Alright. What about this? Dan saw a woman coming down from Sophie’s apartment this morning. Even Jack was concerned becau
se their apartments are all security controlled at the lifts.’
‘She had a visitor.’
‘Right, that’s her claim too, but Jack said he left her only this morning, and Dan couldn’t have been that far behind.’
‘What does that prove?’
‘Sophie said the woman was a German friend.’
‘Well, there you are.’
Kate ignored her. ‘She’s lying. I asked her outright whether she’d ever been to Brighton or Hove and she denied it, yet she seemed to know a lot about one of its piers. And now the most damning part — she’s phoning this office from a public phone box in Hove but pretending she’s in Devon. If she’s preparing some great surprise for Jack, then what the hell is she doing at the seaside?’
‘Perhaps she’s going to call him, ask him to spend the weekend there with her. Brighton’s a renowned destination for lovers and affairs — perhaps she’s married, who knows? Either way, none of this is your business.’
Kate gave a sound of exasperation. ‘And none of your alarm bells are going off that Sophie’s in the Brighton area, not that far from Hastings where we believe Fletcher, the next victim, is?’
Sarah looked back at Kate, totally shocked now. ‘Wait,’ she stammered, ‘you aren’t seriously trying to suggest that DCI Hawksworth’s girlfriend is connected with our case, are you?’
She waited for Kate’s denial. It didn’t come.
‘You are! That’s truly what you’re thinking?’
Kate thought of something, rapidly began dialling.
‘Kate!’ Sarah snapped.
‘Brodie, it’s Kate,’ she said, staring angrily at Sarah. ‘Yep, you obviously moved fast with the media. Is the call for Fletcher already out nationally?’
‘The Super said he’d get the whole of the southeast moving immediately,’ Brodie replied. ‘The rest of the country would take a bit longer. Why?’
‘Nothing important, just wondering. I heard what happened. I’m sorry.’
‘Hawk’s not taking it well.’
‘He’s headed back to London, right?’
‘Yeah, I’m sticking around to oversee this mess.’
‘I’ll call you back, gotta go.’ She put the phone down. ‘Sarah, ring the main radio stations in the west, will you?’
‘I don’t like the sound of where this is headed.’
‘Jack’s always telling us to trust our instincts. Mine are screaming. I have to follow this through. It’s just a few calls.’
Sarah’s expression dissolved from opposition to acceptance. ‘What am I asking?’
‘Whether the bulletin from New Scotland Yard about Edward Fletcher has been aired yet.’
‘This is so much worse than I thought. You think she’s not just connected but that she’s our killer.’
Kate refused to make eye contact but the set of her mouth told Sarah that she was unrepentant on her stance.
‘You’ve gone mad, Kate. The DCI won’t just reassign you — he’ll burn your arse and it won’t be to Kingston. It will be to the legislations office to provide permits for lorries to carry boats or mobile homes at odd hours! You’ll need a promotion just to do traffic management.’
‘Please, Sarah.’
‘I’ll think about it. Now tell me what our boss wants us to do.’
Kate sourly briefed Sarah, who began calling the most junior members of the team, dragging them away from their weekend.
Kate returned to their previous conversation. ‘I know it sounds ridiculous and as though I’m speaking purely from jealousy, but I think Sophie is a liar.’
‘Whatever, Kate. I’ve called everyone in. Let me know if you want me to get hold of any other staff as the DCI asked. And now I’m getting back to work. I suggest you do the same. You’ve got Fletcher to find.’ Sarah left Kate to her dark thoughts.
Kate’s phone call to John Tandy at his home revealed that it wasn’t beyond the bounds of reality that some emotional trauma could have triggered Anne McEvoy’s repressed memories, bringing them to the forefront of her mind again.
‘What sort of trauma could do that, John?’ she asked.
‘How long is a piece of string?’ he answered irritatingly. ‘Loss of a loved one, death of a child — I could go on.’
‘No, that’s alright. So long as you can tell me that, in your professional opinion, it is feasible that some shock could motivate someone who is normally harmless into taking this sort of brutal revenge.’
‘Those kinds of wounds never really heal — the victim just learns how to adjust and then cope with daily life around that wound. She’s probably been with someone she loves and trusts for that time. Perhaps something’s happened to that person. Perhaps they had children and she’s lost a child again. That would certainly reopen the wound.’
‘Could it send her on this killing rampage?’
‘DI Carter, that’s a sixty-four-million-dollar question. It may not provoke you or I to go on a killing spree, but it might motivate the next person to do just that. We’re all wired differently. If it is this Anne McEvoy, then you have to look at her life as a whole. I’m presuming she’s been a seriously depressed person for all of her life.’
‘On medication?’
‘Not necessarily. She’s forty-four, you say?’
‘Yes.’
‘Then she was born in an era when antidepressants weren’t prescribed as they are now. Mental health wasn’t quite the same issue it is today,’ he cautioned. ‘No, if she’s been on the edge all her life, then it’s likely been sheer willpower that’s kept her going through her teens. Perhaps medication in her twenties, who knows? It would have helped keep her moods even.’
Kate sighed. ‘It’s all so hypothetical.’
‘It’s what I do, DC Carter. I rarely have the luxury of dealing with all of the facts. I’ll put out some feelers, see if any of my colleagues know of this Anne McEvoy. She may have been seeing a psychiatrist to cope with the past traumas.’
‘Thanks, John. I’ll let DCI Hawksworth know what you’ve said — and sorry again about interrupting your weekend.’
‘No problem. Anything that helps.’
‘Er, John, there is one more thing. Can I ask: do you think this sort of person could have a split personality?’
‘What do you mean?’
Kate squirmed. ‘Could she be this brutal serial killer while also living a thoroughly normal existence? Could she be in a loving relationship, for instance?’
‘Yes, of course. I postulated from the outset that the killer was never out of control during the murders. She may be emotionally unbalanced in terms of what she’s doing, but in her mind she’s utterly calm and clear thinking. She is obviously highly intelligent. Why?’
‘Oh, just a hunch. Thanks again, John. We’ll let you know what’s happening.’
‘I appreciate that,’ he said, and Kate hung up.
She stared at the phone, wondering whether or not to take the next step. It would certainly seal her fate with DCI Hawksworth. She keyed in some details at her computer and watched the screen. The information she wanted flashed up. Kate hesitated. This was it. What she chose to do next would commit her to a pathway she couldn’t turn back from.
She dialled the number on the screen.
30
There was only one person who could be ringing her on this number. ‘Finally,’ Anne said into her mobile, pulling into a lay-by.
‘Hello again. Yes, I noticed your calls. Sorry, my phone’s been playing up. I’ve actually just had to go out and buy a new one, would you believe?’
She thanked her lucky stars for that. ‘Listen, something’s come up.’
‘Oh, can’t do tonight?’ Billy asked.
‘No, it’s nothing to do with that. Bit of a strange request actually. I know you won’t believe this but I’ve just taken a call from a client in Hastings.’
‘No,’ Billy said and laughed. ‘What sort of client?’
‘Well, apparently they’ve got a friend in London wh
ose pied-à-terre I refurbished last year. They love it, want to try and achieve a similar feel for their mansion apartment at St Leonards,’ she lied.
‘Great. Are you taking the job?’
‘That’s just it. He wants me to supervise the whole project if I do. And that means I’m going to have to be on site for a while — certainly a couple of months or so — as I gather he wants to do some structural work as well.’
‘And?’
‘Well, I’m going to need somewhere to live during that time if I do accept the job. I don’t want to use a hotel room — I’m not very good at living out of a suitcase and eating in commercial dining rooms.’
‘Okay, I get it. You’re thinking one of my B&Bs?’
‘Exactly. Have you got anything that you’ll rent out on a longer term?’
‘Sure, several, in fact. Mainly in the old town but they’re all lovely.’
‘Sounds fine. I like being able to walk to restaurants, coffee shops and so on. A view isn’t so important.’
‘I can do all of that. In fact, I think I know which place will suit you best — there’s a fabulous little two-bedroom cottage overlooking Alexandra Park but with fantastic views over the Channel, and it’s in a really private close with just a couple of neighbours.’
‘Sounds perfect. What sort of money?’
‘We’ll come to some arrangement, Anne, it won’t break the bank.’
‘Can I see it?’
‘Of course. When?’
She laughed. ‘Now.’
‘What? You’re kidding, right?’
Anne sighed. ‘I’m not, unfortunately. This guy wants me to give a decision this week. I’ve extended further so that I can see his place tomorrow, but I want to have this accommodation sorted in my mind before I say yes. If I’m going to relocate for a couple of months and commute to London from Hastings, then I want to know what my temporary home is like.’
‘I understand. Um ... well, perhaps I can get someone —’
‘No, please. I won’t need long. Just tell me where and I’ll meet you there. I’ll make up my mind on the spot and give you a cheque up front. It’s how I work.’
He hesitated. ‘Okay, look . . . I’ve got a couple of things to do, and I was meeting someone in about half an hour so that will need rearranging. Um ...’
Bye Bye Baby Page 32
