by Ellis, Tim
‘Shouldn’t we stop a murder being committed?’
‘And then what?’
‘Then we arrest Lytkin, question him, he tells us everything, and we put him behind bars for the rest of his life.’
‘Your scenarios need a lot of work. Here’s some more. We arrest Lytkin, he dies under suspicious circumstances in custody. We question him, he tells us nothing, and then dies in custody. We question him, he tells us everything, and then Zakayev sends people to kill me, you, Angie, and the baby...’
‘I don’t like that scenario.’
‘He tells us everything, it costs millions of pounds to put him behind bars, he dies in custody... I have more if you’re interested?’
‘I don’t think so. I just hope he’s dead after all that. What about the heads and other body parts?’
‘They’ll turn up sooner or later, but if they don’t will it change anything?’
‘I suppose not.’
CO19 arrived in an Armed Response Vehicle. Parish briefed their commander – Chief Inspector Sue Bath who her men called “Baffy” – on what to expect. After swamping the house with tear gas, they entered and found Dmitriy Lytkin dead in the living room with a single bullet wound to his forehead.
‘Thanks, Ma’am,’ Parish said as the “Trojans” left.
Richards whispered, ‘Why do they call them “Trojans”?’
‘Their call sign.’
‘Do you think I could be a “Trojan”?’
‘You don’t want to be a detective now, then?’
‘I didn’t say that.’
‘You can’t be both.’
‘I don’t see why not.’
‘Because you can’t be out detecting while you’re being deployed in response to spontaneous forearms incidents. And not only that, you haven’t even done your weapon training yet.’
‘Well, I could.’
‘You’re like a magpie collecting bright shiny objects.’
‘I am not.’
‘Ring Toadstone and tell him to get his arse over here. Then ring the Chief, and let her know the case is solved, that we’re going to the hospital, and we’ll see her later at the station.’
‘Shouldn’t we take a look in the house?’
‘I’m just going to brief the press, and then we’ll have about enough time to get to the hospital for counselling.’
‘Do you want me...?’
‘No. You stay here. Keep your coat on, and don’t let me catch you posing for photographers.’
‘You’re just jealous.’
‘Have you rung anybody yet?’
He strolled over to the police cordon.
‘Ladies and gentlemen thank you for coming. I hope you found the deployment of CO19 interesting?’
‘That’s what makes good TV, Inspector.’
‘Yeah, we got some real good shots, thanks.’
‘It’s like a bloody police state.’
‘Good, I’m glad most of you enjoyed the spectacle. Richards and I...’
‘Where is Constable Richards?’
‘Busy.’
‘Oh.’
‘Richards and I tracked the killer – a Russian immigrant called Dmitriy Lytkin – to this address. Sadly, he committed suicide before armed officers were able to apprehend him.’
‘So, he killed the three women?’
‘Yes. He also killed a number of women in Russia in the same manner.’
‘And what about the babies?’
‘Despatched to his mother in Russia. Apparently, she enjoys bringing up children in a particular way. We are in contact with the Russian authorities with a view to repatriating the children.’
‘Apart from his mother, was he working with anyone else?’
‘No. He was working alone. Right, that’s all I have. Thank you for your indulgence, and make sure you all have a wonderful Christmas and New Year.’
‘And you, Inspector.’
‘And tell Constable Richards we’re thinking of her.’
‘Did you phone Toadstone and the Chief?’ he said to Richards when he got back to the car.
‘I can follow simple instructions.’
‘Good, let’s go.’
‘Did the press people ask where I was?’
‘No.’
‘Oh.’
***
No, they still hadn’t found Kincaid. And worse than that, he was beginning to talk like Lola. He’d have to make a conscious effort to remain as Ray Kowalski, not some derivative of Lola Laveque.
‘You got any more ideas?’
‘Security.’
‘To look at the recording?’
‘Yes.’
There were two security staff manning the CCTV monitoring room – Maldwyn Ryder and Phineas Bonnybeam.
‘You got licences to carry names like that?’ Lola asked.
They both laughed. ‘Yeah. They call me Rupert, and him Fin, it’s a lot simpler.’
‘I’ll say.’
‘We’d like to see the recording of yesterday afternoon again,’ Kowalski said.
Rupert seemed to be the man in charge. Fin watched and nodded as Rupert found what they wanted on the computer.
‘There you go,’ he said.
They watched the whiteout, which intermittently eased, and they caught glimpses of vehicles and people. The camera was sited above the reception entrance looking down and with a forty-five degree angle.
‘Not much good is it?’ Kowalski said.
‘Nope,’ Rupert agreed.
‘And there’s no way of cleaning it up?’
‘You’re talking about the snow?’
‘Yes.’
‘You’re not very technically minded then?’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Well, the snow is part of the picture.’
‘I’ve already been told that.’
‘Then you’ve had it confirmed.’
‘Okay, let’s try frame by frame.’
They went through it every which way, but discovered nothing they didn’t already know. All they could see of the Range Rover was a brief glimpse of the number plate. And although the camera had a view of the driver’s window, nothing was visible.
‘Thanks for your time,’ Kowalski said.
‘Hey, no problem,’ Rupert said. ‘Anything to break the monotony.’
Out in the corridor Lola said, ‘We barking up a tree, Ko-wall-ski.’
Kowalski’s brow furrowed. ‘You mean, “the wrong tree”?’
‘If’n you say so. We goin’ to the antenatal clinic to see someone ‘bout the midwife?’
‘I suppose so. Just to tick all the boxes. But I can’t imagine why Jeremy Kincaid would want to kidnap the midwife.’
‘Maybe he blames her for his wife losing the baby?’
Kowalski grunted. ‘After six weeks? And why kidnap her? And let’s not forget that he’s been playing the field and murdering his conquests. If he was going to kill her he could have done it at any time and anywhere. I just can’t imagine why he would kidnap the midwife – it doesn’t make sense.’
‘What about Karen Kincaid?’
‘Same questions apply. Why wait six weeks? Why kidnap her? Why not simply kill her?’
They reached the antenatal clinic and spoke to Jenny Harris at the reception desk. She was obviously more than a receptionist because she wore a pink slip-on overall with cute babies in nappies on it. Her hair hung in tight light brown curls, she had freckles, and flushed cheeks.
‘Can anyone tell us about Karen Kincaid?’ Kowalski asked.
‘What do you want to know? I’m here every day. The midwives have their own clients and run their own antenatal classes, which means that none of them knows each other’s clients. I’m the only one who knows everybody.’
‘We’ve come to the right person then?’
‘What do you want to know?’
‘How was she after she lost the baby?’
‘Stoic is the word. She’d lost two before, but this one was a l
ot further along. She just seemed to accept it.’
‘Is that normal?’
‘There is no normal. People come to terms with it in different ways.’
‘Do you think she blamed...?’
‘...Staff Nurse Hollingsworth?’
‘Yes.’
‘If she did, she didn’t show it.’
‘What about her husband?’
‘He never came with her.’
‘Never?’
‘If he did, I didn’t see him.’
‘Thanks for your help.’
They made their way out to the car.
It was snowing again. The gritters had run out of grit and salt. It was every man for himself now.
‘Another dead end,’ Kowalski said.
‘We goin’ back to the station?’
‘Unless you can think of somewhere else to go?’
***
‘Inspector Parish,’ Dr Marie Rafferty said. ‘Well, this is your last session.’
‘So you’ve said.’
‘How does that make you feel?’
‘You always want to know how I feel.’
‘And you always want to fight me. So...?’
‘I feel relieved.’
‘Why?’
‘Because I’m always worried that I’ll say the wrong thing, and then you’ll make me have more therapy, or take me off active duty – it’s counselling by fear.’
‘I see.’
She wrote something in her notebook. He hated that notebook. He hated the way she said, “I see”. He hated Marie Rafferty, and he hated everything about counselling.
‘Tell me what’s been happening in your life recently?’
‘You know some of it...’
‘The headless women?’
‘Yes. We’ve had three victims, but I’m happy to say that the person responsible killed himself this afternoon.’
‘You say, “happy”. Are you happy that another human being is dead?’
‘It’s a figure of speech, a turn of phrase, a... You always have to read things into what I say. This is why I’ll be glad to finish counselling. It’s like walking on eggshells.’
‘When you saw these three women without heads, how...?’
‘You’re not going to ask me how it made me feel, are you?’
‘Yes, I’m interested in the coping mechanisms you use when you have to look at sights like that on a regular basis.’
‘I don’t feel anything.’
‘It doesn’t make you feel angry?’
‘No. I feel nothing. If I felt angry every time I saw a dead body, I’d be a mess.’
‘You cope by feeling nothing then?’
‘Yes.’
‘So, when you say you feel “happy” the killer is dead, that’s not strictly true, is it?’
‘What do you mean?’
‘If you feel nothing when you see a dead body, why would you feel happy when you find the killer dead?’
‘I’m happy that it’s over, that I’ve caught the killer.’
‘I see.’ She wrote in her notebook again. ‘So, you’re not actually happy the killer is dead, you’re happy that the task of searching for him is over?’
‘Where’s this leading? What are you trying to get at?’
‘Answer the question.’
‘Yes, I’m happy that I’ve caught the killer. It’s over, I can rest.’
‘When it’s over, and the killer is dead or behind bars, do you feel anything then?’
‘Sometimes?’
‘Why?’
‘What do you mean, “why”?’
‘Why do you think your feelings return when the case is over?’
‘If I felt something during an investigation I’d never be able to do the job.’
‘I see.’
‘Will you stop saying, “I see”. You’re driving me crazy with “I see”. And stop writing in that notebook. I have more nightmares about you and that notebook than I do about serial killers.’
‘That’s very interesting.’
‘No it’s not. It’s the least interesting thing I’ve said.’ He stood up. ‘My session must be over by now?’
‘But not your therapy.’
‘Crap, Dr Rafferty – you promised.’
‘I didn’t promise, I said, “If everything went well”.’
‘And it has gone well. I’ve been honest, I’ve answered all your questions.’
‘After a fashion. But what I’m more interested in now is your relationship with me.’
‘You’re not my type. Any relationship we have is in your warped head.’
‘Then why have nightmares about my notebook and me? You see some of the worst sights a human being has to see, and yet you choose to have nightmares about your therapist and her notebook. No, I don’t think we’re quite finished yet. I think there’s still some digging to do. I think there’s still some buried treasure you’re subconsciously refusing to give up.’
‘You have all my treasure. I’m penniless. I live in a cardboard box under the arches, and grub around in bins for scraps every night.’
‘Tell my secretary to book you an appointment for next month, Inspector Parish.’
‘I hate you, Dr Rafferty.’
‘I know, and that’s why you’re coming back to see me.’
In the reception he threw himself onto one of the seats. More therapy! God, he hated therapy. An unguarded comment and he was in it for the long haul. At the next session he’d tell her the nightmares about her and her notebook had stopped. In fact, he had no nightmares at all anymore – no feelings and no nightmares. Calmness, serenity, happiness... and lots more of those type of words permeated throughout his calm, serene, happy body. Yes, he’d work out a strategy to deal with this new attack by the enemy. He may have lost the battle today, but he’d win the war.
***
‘I don’t want you to lie on my couch today, Mary.’
She was sitting in an easy chair and staring over his head through the window at the snow falling outside. ‘Probably a wise decision, Dr Suresh. Every time I come in here I feel very tired.’
‘How are you feeling today?’
‘You mean apart from feeling really tired?’
‘Yes.’
‘I feel good, except...’
‘Except what, Mary?’
‘Inspector Parish says it’s his last session. Why isn’t it my last session, Doctor?’
‘Tell me why you still watch the Crime Channel when I asked you not to?’
‘How can you possibly know that? Has Inspector Parish...’
‘Nobody has informed on you, Mary. You’ve just confirmed my suspicions.’
‘That’s not fair, Doctor. You’re not meant to trick me.’
‘I do what I have to do to help my patients. Especially when they are hell bent on sabotaging all my efforts.’
‘I feel terrible.’
‘Because you’ve been caught out?’
Richards said nothing, she knew she was in the wrong.
‘I propose to hypnotise you this afternoon.’
‘Oh!’
Dr Suresh started a metronome.
Click, click, click, click...
She thought she might go to sleep. Her eyes felt very heavy.
‘Listen to the sound of the metronome. Your eyes feel very heavy. You want to sleep. Now, you’re stepping through a door... Where are you, Mary?’
‘In my house.’
‘What are you doing?’
‘Drawing a horse.’
‘Do you hear anything?’
‘The birds are singing through the window.’
‘How old are you?’
‘Seven.’
‘Are you happy?’
‘Oh yes.’
‘Do you feel safe?’
‘Yes.’
‘I want you to feel happy and safe as you shift forward in time. You’re now twenty-one and in Ruben’s cellar.’
‘No, I don’t think I want to do tha
t.’
‘It’s all right, Mary. No one can hurt you now. Remember, you’re happy and safe.’
‘I’m happy and safe.’
‘That’s right. Tell me where you are?’
‘I’m in a cage.’
‘And what’s in the cage?’
‘A bucket and a blanket.’
‘What are you wearing?’
‘Nothing. I’m so cold.’
‘Wrap the blanket around you, Mary. You feel warm, safe, and happy now.’
‘Oh!’
‘What’s happening, Mary?’
‘Ruben has come into the room.’
‘Remember that he can’t hurt you now.’
‘He’s got a knife.’
‘You’re in a cage.’
‘No, he’s opened the cage. Oh dear God, he’s going to rape and kill me.’
‘He’s not going to do either of those things.’
‘He is. I see it in his eyes. He’s smirking.’
‘You’re safe, Mary.’
‘No, I’ll never be safe ever again. He has hold of me. He’s laughing.’
‘Where is Inspector Parish?’
‘He’s not here, but there’s somebody else hiding in the shadows.’
‘Somebody else? You’ve never mentioned that there was somebody else in there with you. Who is it, Mary?’
‘I don’t know, I can’t see him clearly.’
‘Are you sure it isn’t Inspector Parish?’
‘No, it’s not him. He doesn’t know where I am. Nobody knows where I am. I’m going to die.’
‘That’s not what happened, Mary. Inspector Parish kills Ruben before he can do anything.’
‘I’m so scared. Ruben isn’t dead. He’s going to do terrible things to me. Oh God, he says he loves me, and wants me to have his babies. Please... no...’
‘Mary... Listen very carefully... When I count to three, you will return to reality. You will be wide awake, and you’ll remember everything that has taken place.’
‘No... Oh please don’t. Nooooo...’
‘One... two... three.’
She couldn’t catch her breath. Sweat ran down her face. She was drenched all over. Her heart was thrashing about inside her ribcage as if there were no other organs in there. ‘Oh God, he was going to rape me.’
‘But that’s not what happened was it, Mary? Where was Inspector Parish?’
‘I don’t know.’
