THE JAGGED LINE A Thrilling, Psychological Crime Mystery (Harry Briscombe Book 2)

by Carolyn Mahony

  ‘Let me see for myself. Then I’ll go.’

  There was noise going on in the hallway, more people maybe? Then the door was flung open – and he found himself looking down the barrel of a gun.

  He reeled back in shock. ‘What the…’ His eyes spun from the weapon, to the man holding it.

  ‘If you want to see Kirsty, you’d better come in,’ the man said smoothly. ‘And no false moves or you’ll be history. There’s a silencer attached to this gun.’

  Luke looked in horror at Simon, noting the other man’s discomfort as his gaze shifted away. ‘You better do as he says,’ he muttered.

  ‘Where is she, Simon?’

  ‘Come on. Move it … upstairs,’ the man ordered, slamming the door behind him with a resounding thud. ‘Who else knows you’re here?’

  ‘The police, everyone,’ Luke said, wishing he hadn’t put the fifteen-minute deadline on that call.

  The other man glared at Simon. ‘See what you’ve done? You better hope he’s bluffing.’

  Luke heard Simon’s voice, scared and bleating behind him. ‘I haven’t done anything. I don’t know what this is about any more than you do.’

  They were upstairs in the flat now, and Luke just about had time to take in his surroundings and the number of people there, before a sharp blow to the back of his head had him crashing to the floor.

  ***

  It was nearly eleven when Harry’s phone rang, bursting into the silence of the night and rousing him from the unreal state he’d drifted into, thinking about his grandmother. She’d been dead a while now and as he sat there still holding her hand, he could only be glad. He thanked God that his mother hadn’t popped in to say goodnight. He wouldn’t have relished hiding the truth from her – but if he’d told her what Jean had done, he wouldn’t have put it past her to call an ambulance.

  Her end, when it came, had been the death she’d wanted – a peaceful passing where the length between breaths had simply got longer until they’d finally ceased altogether.

  Now, he lifted her hand and kissed it, gently replacing it on the cover before looking at his mobile to see who was calling.

  Beth.

  He frowned. It had to be urgent for her to be calling at this time of night.

  Rising from his grandmother’s side, his eyes were caught by the two incriminating pill containers sitting on her bedside table. He hesitated for only a moment, before picking them up and slipping them into his pocket.

  ‘Beth,’ he said, walking out of the room and closing the door behind him. ‘What’s up?’

  ‘I’ve just been talking to a friend of Kirsty Cartwright’s. He thinks she’s gone missing and wants us to check it out.’

  ‘What? Where are you?’

  ‘In the car, heading over to Barnet. The guy who’s reported her missing, a Mark Berryman, had an address where she was last known to be going. And guess where it was? 28 Myton Road – Paul Copeland’s address. It’s complicated but if you meet me there, I’ll wait for you and fill you in. Peterson’s heading over to Berryman’s as we speak.’

  Harry hesitated, thinking of his grandmother lying in her bed on the other side of the door. But he could almost hear her voice in his head. ‘Don’t mind me, boy, you go and do what needs to be done. I’m not going anywhere now.’

  And that was the truth of it, he thought, as he shut off his phone and headed quietly down the stairs. The lights were out; his parents had gone up for the night. Nothing to be gained by alerting them tonight to the fact that she was dead. Probably better all round if they simply found her like that in the morning.

  The shaft of guilt that pierced him at the thought made him realise his agonising wasn’t over with yet. But he’d have plenty of time to ponder that one. For now, he had a job to do.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

  Luke came to with a groan. He felt stiff and cramped, every muscle in his legs and arms screaming for release. He was lying on the floor, hands and legs tied securely together. His head was pounding and the effort it took to even open his eyes was tremendous – but once he’d managed it, all of that paled into insignificance as he gradually became aware of his surroundings and found his gaze resting on Kirsty’s anxious face. She was lying on her side on a bed above him, trussed up as efficiently as he was, her green eyes enormous in her face.

  Kirsty.

  He thought he’d spoken her name out loud and was surprised that no sound was forthcoming. It was then he realised that on top of everything else, he was gagged. And so was she.

  He hadn’t a clue what was going on, but it was obvious they needed to get out of there fast – something that was obviously easier said than done.

  He tried a reassuring smile aware that it probably just came out as a slight twisting of his facial muscles. But it seemed to have the desired effect as Kirsty’s face did a similar muscle-contorting exercise. For a moment it was enough that she was safe.

  But for how much longer was another matter. As the fog in his mind cleared and his memory returned, he had no doubt that the man with the gun, whoever he was, meant business.

  He tried to wiggle his hands, to get some purchase, but they’d done a good job of tying him up. He cursed himself for not being more prepared. He had a penknife in the boot of his car, but what good was it there? He needed it here to cut through the rope. He frowned, trying to clear his head. It was obvious that wiggling his hands wasn’t going to achieve anything but he observed his fingers were free. If Kirsty’s were, too, maybe they could work on each other’s knots. He caught her eye again and jerked his head towards the floor. He saw her eyebrows crease in puzzlement. He did the gesture again, this time nodding his head at her before gesticulating to the ground. He saw that she’d got it as she began to edge herself slowly to the side of the bed, heaving herself up to a sitting position and dangling her legs to the floor. Within a few seconds she was standing, frowning down at him as she tried to work out the simplest and possibly least painful way of joining him on the floor. It clearly wasn’t as easy as it looked with her feet tied firmly together. Eventually, she bent her knees as low as she could and toppled over with a soft thud, her head landing on his stomach, and knocking the breath out of him. It grounded him having her close to him like that and he savoured the moment briefly, before edging out from underneath her.

  She turned to face him and started to move closer but he shook his head at her. She stopped. He considered for a moment then made a big movement of twisting his head to the side. She wasn’t getting it. He thought some more, then repeated the action, nodding at her, then turning his head in a semicircular motion to the side. Her expression cleared and she turned so that her back was presented to him. Immediately, he did the same, turning his back to her and edging closer until he could feel their hands touching. He stroked her fingers for just a moment, then slowly, clumsily, he got to work on her ropes.

  ***

  ‘Shit…’ Harry said in a drawn-out breath when Beth had finished filling him in. They were sitting in his car outside Simon Jordan’s house, and his mind worked frantically over what she’d just told him.

  ‘So in a nutshell,’ Beth said, ‘Kirsty Cartwright broke into Simon Jordan’s office to get hold of his computer to remove some dirty images he held of her, and now she’s gone missing. And this guy Mark reckons there’s other stuff on the computer he’s got that’s extremely incriminating for Simon if we should get hold of it. That’s why Geoff’s gone over there to take a look.’

  Her phone rang and she answered it. ‘Hi, Geoff. What … are you sure? Bloody hell – we’re outside his house now. We’re about to go in and question him about Kirsty Cartwright … okay … that sounds like a plan. I’ll tell Harry … No, I think we’ll be fine but if Harry says different I’ll call you back … Who, the boyfriend? No … not that I can see.’ Her eyes did a quick sweep of the other cars in the road. ‘You’d have thought he’d have made his presence known when my police car turned up if he was here. Maybe he’s gone missing, too
. Okay, we’ll catch up later.’

  She ended the call and looked at Harry. ‘You probably guessed that was Geoff. He reckons there’s loads of shit on that computer that spells big trouble for Simon Jordan – he also says that Kirsty’s ex-boyfriend, Luke Talbot, still hasn’t turned up. Apparently, he told Mark he was going to tackle Simon about Kirsty’s disappearance and he hasn’t heard from him since.’

  ‘So where the hell are they all?’

  Beth shrugged, but there was a gleam in her eye. ‘You’ll never guess what he said about the computer? He reckons this guy could be going around drugging women and then taking them back to his place to film himself doing dodgy stuff with them. He said rape’s just the beginning of it and he’s getting the computer back to the station now to let Forensics at it.’

  Harry’s eyes narrowed. ‘Are we sure? Sure it’s Jordan, I mean?’

  ‘No doubt, apparently. He clearly gets off seeing himself in movies, according to Geoff.’

  ‘Right. Well, we’ve got specific grounds for questioning him now. Let’s go get him.’

  ‘You know what I’m thinking?’

  Harry turned back to her. ‘What?’

  ‘I’m wondering if Simon Jordan could be the rapist that DCI Murray’s been digging into? Is that possible, do you think? And if so, should we be calling him? Murray, I mean?’

  Harry was already out of the car. ‘Time enough for that later. First off, we need to see if he’s got Kirsty Cartwright in there.’

  He rang the doorbell and waited. When there was no immediate response he knocked heavily on the door.

  Upstairs in the flat, Bulldog peered cautiously out of the window. The first thing he saw was the police car parked on the other side of the road.

  ‘It’s the cops,’ he said, turning to face the room.

  ‘How many?’ Tim Burman rasped.

  ‘Looks like just the one car that I can see.’

  Tim Burman swung round to Simon. ‘Get down there and get rid of them,’ he growled, pushing him to the door.

  ‘What shall I say?’

  ‘I don’t care. Just get rid of them. And if they won’t go, take them into your flat and make sure you shut the door behind you. That way it’ll give us a bit of time to clear this place. The last thing we want is them traipsing up here. Call me when they’ve gone.’

  At the bottom of the stairs in the hall, Simon hesitated. He was sweating profusely and he took a moment to steady himself. ‘I’m coming,’ he called out, quickly opening his front door before moving over to let them in. On the doorstep were the same two police officers he’d seen previously.

  ‘Mr Jordan – you may remember me, Harry Briscombe from Hertfordshire Police?’

  ‘Yeah, sure. What’s going on?’

  ‘We’re looking for Kirsty Cartwright.’

  ‘Kirsty?’

  ‘Yes, it seems she’s gone missing.’

  ‘You’re kidding. Well, I’m sorry to hear that but I don’t understand. How can I help?’

  ‘You’ve not seen her tonight? We have reason to believe she was coming here to see you.’

  ‘No, I haven’t. I’ve been out all evening – having dinner with her brother, as it happens. I’ve only just got in.’

  ‘Would you mind if we came in to verify that? Took a look round your flat?’

  ‘Yes, I would, actually. Do you have a warrant?’

  ‘No, but I might think you’ve got something to hide if you don’t let us in, and I can pick one up pretty quickly.’

  Simon appeared torn and Harry waited, giving him time.

  ‘Well, you can come into the flat if you want but if you want to do any more than that you’ll need a warrant.’

  ‘Fair enough, sir.’

  Once inside the flat, he closed the door and threw his keys onto the side table. His face glistened with sweat and he pulled a handkerchief from his pocket as he turned to face them. Clearly nervous, Harry thought, not without some satisfaction. In fact, shit-scared.

  ‘Do you mind telling me when you last saw Kirsty?’ he asked.

  ‘Yesterday evening. She dropped round here for a coffee. You can ask her brother Robbie. He can verify that – plus the fact that I’ve been with him all evening tonight. I mean … I don’t get why you think she’d be here. And what gives you the right to start questioning me as if I’m a bloody criminal? It may have escaped your memory but I’m a solicitor.’

  ‘We have it on good authority that Kirsty Cartwright’s last known movements this evening were that she was heading over to this flat, to relieve you of your laptop. Which I understand has some rather incriminating pictures of her on it?’

  Harry kept the full extent of his knowledge regarding Simon’s computer to himself for the time being, but he observed how the colour drained from Simon’s face as his eyes shot to where his tablet sat nestled on some folders on his desk.

  ‘Why would she do that?’ he blustered. ‘And who told you that anyway? I’d say that whatever happened in private between me and Kirsty is our concern. If we choose to film ourselves it’s not against the law, and it’s no one else’s business but our own.’

  ‘Except that Kirsty didn’t choose to film anything. You filmed her without her knowledge and she was upset about that, wasn’t she? She told her boyfriend Luke Talbot about it. Have you seen Mr Talbot this evening?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Well, apparently he, too, was on his way here – and he, too, it seems, has suddenly gone missing. Bit of a coincidence, wouldn’t you agree?’

  ‘I haven’t the faintest idea what you’re talking about. I told you, I’ve been out all night. If they’ve both disappeared, maybe they’ve gone off together. Maybe they’re over at Luke’s place.’

  ‘Both their cars are outside.’

  Simon pulled out his mobile and punched in a number. ‘Here, I’m calling Robbie Cartwright now. He’ll tell you. I only left theirs about half an hour ago. How that can have given me time to dispose of two full-grown adults, I have no idea.’

  Harry took the phone from him as a sleepy voice answered the call. ‘Mrs Cartwright? This is Sergeant Briscombe from Hertfordshire Police …I’m sorry to be calling you so late …’

  By the time Harry had finished the call, he was forced to admit he was thrown. The Cartwrights had confirmed everything Simon had said. On top of that, he now had Robert Cartwright worried sick about his sister.

  ‘What do you mean she’s missing? Who told you that?’

  ‘We don’t know any more than you do at the moment, Mr Cartwright, but she’s been reported missing by a friend of hers, a guy called Mark Berryman. Do you know him?’

  ‘Yes, I do.’

  ‘Well, I can only suggest you give him a call if you want to know any more. We’ve found no evidence so far to suggest that anything untoward has happened to your sister, but obviously we’re taking the report seriously and want to check it out. We’ll get back to you as soon as we know anything.’

  He ended the call, handing the phone back to Simon Jordan, and considered the options. Jordan was right … he wouldn’t have had the time to do anything as major as disposing of two adults on his own between getting back here, and Harry and Beth arriving.

  But maybe he hadn’t done it on his own?

  Harry’s thoughts switched to the other person whose name had a habit of cropping up in their investigation. Tim Burman.

  And they shared the same address.

  ‘Is Tim Burman in?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ Simon said in an exaggeratedly patient voice, more confident now his alibi had been backed up. ‘As I keep telling you, I’ve not been back long. I’ve not heard any noise, though, so I think he may be out.’

  ‘Let’s go see, shall we?’

  A muffled sound from what was probably a bedroom had Harry and Beth stopping in their stride.

  ‘What was that?’ Harry asked.

  ‘What?’

  ‘That noise. It sounded like it was coming from behind that door.�
��

  ‘It’s probably upstairs. The noise really carries through the floorboards. Maybe Tim is in, after all.’

  Harry was already striding towards the door.

  ‘Don’t go any further,’ Simon said sharply. ‘I’ve just about had enough of all this. If you want to search my flat you’ll do it the proper way … with a warrant.’

  Another sound, more of a moan this time, and Harry’s steps quickened. Totally disregarding Simon’s order he threw the door open, stopping dead in his tracks at the sight that confronted him. A woman gagged and handcuffed to the bedposts stared back at him in absolute terror.

  But it wasn’t Kirsty Cartwright.

  As he rushed towards the bed to free her, he remembered the picture of Katrina Midwood, the woman who’d been reported missing that morning. There was no doubt in his mind that this was her.

  ‘Beth, call an ambulance and request urgent backup!’ he shouted, as he fumbled to untie the woman’s gag.

  ‘Oh no you don’t.’

  He swung round at the sound of Beth’s voice, just in time to see her launch herself at Simon Jordan and headbutt him in the stomach, bringing him crashing down to the ground.

  ‘Jeez …’ Harry abandoned what he was doing and sprinted into the other room where Beth and Simon were now tussling on the floor. Throwing himself at the other man, Harry hauled him up off Beth and sent a fist crashing into his jaw that sent him flying back down onto the ground again. He made no further move to resist them as he lay there, nursing his jaw in his hands, looking at them aggressively.

  ‘He was trying to escape,’ Beth said breathlessly, her eyes shining with exhilaration. ‘I can’t believe I brought him down.’

  ‘That was some tackle,’ Harry said admiringly. ‘Are you okay?’

  ‘I’m fine. I knew my self-defence classes would come in useful one day.’

  ‘Don’t move,’ Harry barked at Simon when he would have sat up. He pulled out his phone. ‘Beth, can you see to the girl in there? I’ll get some backup and a couple of warrants for here and Burman’s flat.’