Cold Killing

by Luke Delaney

  Hellier craned his neck so he could see Sean over his right shoulder. ‘You’re a damn fool. You’ve got nothing on me.’ His smiling face and sweet breath made Sean feel nauseous.

  ‘Who are you?’ Sean asked him. ‘What the fuck are you?’

  Hellier’s grin only broadened. He spat the words into Sean’s face:

  ‘Fuck you.’

  Sean peered through the spy hole into Hellier’s cell. The smug bastard was sitting bolt upright on his bed, as if in some kind of a trance. If only there were some way to find out what he was thinking. Sean moved away from the cell door and headed back to his office. He would interview Hellier when his solicitor arrived.

  He sauntered into the inquiry office. The team sensed his mood. It transferred to them. Sean had the upper hand now.

  ‘Any news from the lab, Stan?’ Sean shouted across the office.

  ‘Three days for a DNA match, guv,’ Stan called back. ‘Two, if we get lucky. They’ll need our suspect’s samples by midday if they’re to have any chance of doing it that fast, but it’ll only be an initial comparison which won’t give us a definitive match. A full comparison and definitive match will take a week. Minimum.’

  ‘Not good enough,’ Sean replied. ‘Call the lab back and tell them one in forty thousand isn’t good enough. I need better odds than that and I need them by this time tomorrow at the latest.’

  The phone in Sean’s office was ringing when he entered. He snatched it up. ‘DI Corrigan.’

  ‘Morning, sir. It’s DC Kelsey, from SO11 telephone subscribers’ checks. You left some coded numbers with me a while ago. I said I’d have a play with them.’

  ‘Go on.’

  ‘Well, I worked out the code,’ DC Kelsey said matter-of-factly. ‘It was relatively simple, but effective.’

  ‘Have you run the subscribers’ checks too?’

  ‘Yes. Some are overseas numbers, so we don’t have them back yet. I’ll email what I have across to you. Be warned, there’s a fair few to go through.’

  ‘Thanks. And good job,’ Sean said warmly. ‘Let me know when the overseas numbers come back.’

  ‘No problem.’

  ‘And thanks again.’

  Sally appeared at his office door. ‘Hellier’s brief’s here,’ she announced. ‘They’re in consultation.’

  ‘Good. When they’re ready, you can help me interview.’ Sally made a show of checking her watch. ‘You need to be somewhere?’ he asked.

  ‘As a matter of fact, I have a lunch appointment today. I was hoping Dave could do the interview with you.’

  ‘Lunch appointment?’ Sean sounded surprised.

  ‘It’s not what you think. I’m supposed to be meeting Hellier’s boss, Sebastian Gibran. His idea. I can only assume he wants to discuss Hellier.’

  Sean studied her in silence for a while. ‘I’m not sure about this, Sally,’ he said. ‘These people look after their own. I doubt he wants to help us. Unless he has some other motivation for meeting you.’

  ‘Such as?’

  ‘You know what I mean.’

  ‘I guess you never know your luck.’

  Again Sean studied her for a while. ‘Okay. Meet him. See what he has to say.’

  ‘There’s something else too,’ Sally continued. ‘Remember the suspect Method Index turned up – Stefan Korsakov.’

  Sean shrugged his shoulders. He thought that little problem had been dealt with. ‘Yes.’

  ‘I’ve been trying to put it to bed, but it hasn’t been that easy.’

  ‘In what way?’

  ‘His conviction prints should be at the Yard, only they’re not.’

  ‘Borrowed?’

  ‘The original investigating officer told me the prison holding Korsakov had requested the prints, only I checked with them and they didn’t.’

  ‘So he’s lying to you. Any idea why?’

  ‘Not yet.’

  ‘Do you want to get Ethics and Standards involved?’

  ‘Maybe,’ Sally answered. ‘But maybe we should start treating Korsakov as a viable suspect, until we know for sure he isn’t?’

  ‘Fine,’ Sean agreed. ‘But if he does start looking like a reality, you tell me straight away. Don’t go running off solo, trying to be Cagney without Lacey.’

  ‘I won’t. I promise.’

  Sally turned on her heels and headed out of the office. ‘By the way,’ Sean called after her, ‘have a nice lunch.’

  Hellier and Templeman sat close together in the interview room that served as their private consultation room.

  ‘I need to be out of this fucking dungeon by six at the latest,’ Hellier told him. ‘No excuses, Jonathon. You have to get me out.’

  ‘It’s difficult to make that promise,’ Templeman answered nervously. ‘The police won’t tell me much. Until I know what they’ve got, I can’t be expected to judge our position.’

  ‘Our position?’ Hellier asked. He put his hand on Templeman’s thigh and squeezed hard. Templeman winced. ‘No matter what, you’ll be walking out of here. It’s me they want to nail to the wall. Keep that in mind.’

  Hellier released his grip and gently laid a hand on Templeman’s shoulder. He knew the man was scared of him. ‘I know you’ll do your best.’ He spoke softly. It only added to his menace.

  Templeman swallowed his fear and spoke. ‘Before we can even think about bail, we have to prepare for the interview. If they’ve re-arrested you, they must have something. If you know what that could be, you need to tell me now. They want to start the interview as soon as they can, but they’re only telling me the minimum they’re legally obliged to. You have to help me to help you. We don’t want to walk into a trap. You should answer everything “no comment”.’

  Hellier could barely disguise his contempt. ‘Trap! You think they’re clever enough to trap me? They’ve got nothing, and Corrigan knows it. He’s trying to make me panic. Well, let him do his worst. You just keep your mouth shut and try and look professional. Let me do the talking and follow my lead. If Corrigan wants to play, fucking let him. Tell them we’re ready to be interviewed.’

  Sean began the interview with the usual formalities, Hellier responding with a nod when asked if he understood the caution and his other legal rights. He nodded again when Sean repeated that he had been arrested for the suspected murder of Linda Kotler. His face was expressionless.

  In an effort to gain credibility with Hellier, Templeman immediately went on the offensive: ‘I would like it recorded that it has been almost impossible for me to properly instruct my client, as the investigating officers have told me nothing about the allegation. Nothing about any evidence they may have that indicates my client could in any way be involved in this crime.’

  Sean had been expecting as much. ‘The allegation is one of suspected rape and murder. It occurred less than thirty-six hours ago. I’m sure your client will be able to answer my questions without being given prior knowledge.’ Sean waited for a protest. None came. ‘I’ll keep the questions simple and direct.’ He and Hellier locked eyes across the table, then Sean launched into the interrogation: ‘Did you know Linda Kotler?’

  ‘No,’ Hellier answered.

  ‘Was that a no comment or a no?’

  ‘That was a no. I don’t know anyone by the name of Linda Kotler.’

  ‘Have you ever been to Minford Gardens in Shepherd’s Bush?’ Sean was trying to shut him in.

  ‘I don’t know. Maybe,’ Hellier answered.

  ‘Maybe?’

  ‘I’ve been to Shepherd’s Bush, so maybe I’ve been there.’

  ‘Minford Gardens?’ Sean repeated.

  ‘Wherever.’

  ‘Have you ever been to number seventy-three Minford Gardens?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Sure?’

  ‘Positive.’ Hellier sounded bored.

  ‘Are you absolutely sure?’ Sean had to be precise. Any ambiguity now would be exploited later by the defence. Hellier didn’t answer. ‘I’ll take that as confirm
ation. But you’re lying. You have been there,’ Sean continued.

  Hellier gave no reaction other than raising one eyebrow slightly. Sean noticed it.

  ‘You met Linda Kotler. You met her the same night you killed her.’

  ‘Really, Inspector,’ Templeman jumped in. ‘If you have evidence to support your allegation that my client was involved, then why don’t you just say so and tell us what it is. Otherwise this interview is over.’ Sean ignored him. Throughout the interruption he maintained eye contact with Hellier.

  ‘Where were you the night before last?’ Sean asked.

  ‘You mean you don’t know?’ Hellier tormented him. ‘All those policemen following me and you have to ask me where I was. How galling that must be for you.’

  ‘No games.’ Sean was trying to keep the pace going. ‘Where were you?’

  ‘That’s my business,’ Hellier snapped.

  Good. His calm was breaking.

  ‘And now it’s mine,’ said Sean. ‘Who were you with?’

  ‘No comment.’

  The questions and answers came quickly. Templeman kept on the lookout for a break, a chance to object, but he knew neither Sean nor Hellier would listen to him. This was between the two of them. Personal.

  ‘If you’ve got an alibi, you’d better give it now,’ Sean told him.

  ‘I don’t have to prove a damn thing,’ Hellier retorted.

  ‘You weren’t at home.’

  ‘Your point?’

  ‘And you weren’t at work.’

  ‘So?’

  ‘So between seven p.m. and three a.m. the next morning, where were you? During the time Linda Kotler was murdered, where were you?’ Sean’s voice was rising.

  Hellier fought back. ‘Where were you, Inspector? That’s what people will really want to know. Would she be alive now if you’d done your job properly? You’re desperate and it shows. You stink of fear. It’s blinded you. What have you got? Nothing but theories.

  ‘So you don’t know where I was the night this woman was killed. That proves nothing.’ Hellier leaned back, satisfied.

  ‘How long did you watch her for?’ Sean suddenly asked. ‘For a week, like you did with Daniel Graydon, or was it longer? Did you spend days and days fantasizing about killing her, the images in your mind growing ever more vivid until you could no longer wait? You followed her home, didn’t you, James? Then you watched her windows, waiting for the lights to go out. And when they did, you waited until you were certain she was asleep before you scrambled up the drainpipe and climbed through her bathroom window. Then you knocked her unconscious, tied her in your favourite bondage position and raped and sodomized her. And when you were finished, you strangled her – didn’t you?’

  Hellier made as if to answer, but Sean held up his hand to stop him as the images in his mind revealed further details. ‘No wait, I’m wrong – you didn’t strangle her after you’d raped her. You killed her while you were still inside her, didn’t you? Her death and your climax happening simultaneously – that’s how it had to be for you, wasn’t it? Wasn’t it?’

  Hellier’s eyes raged inside his stony face, the muscles in his cheeks visibly flexing as he fought to keep control. Finally he spoke. ‘That’s a nice little story you’ve cooked up, Inspector. But it proves nothing – nothing whatsoever.’

  ‘You’re right.’ Sean sounded humble. ‘It doesn’t prove a thing. But these will.’ He slid a copy of a form across the table. ‘Item number four,’ Sean said. ‘Item number four should be of particular interest to you.’

  Hellier scanned the list of items submitted to the forensic laboratory. He saw that item number four was two hairs. He shook his head as if he failed to realize their importance. ‘This concerns me how?’

  ‘We need samples of your hair and blood, for DNA comparison,’ Sean informed him.

  ‘You’ve already taken samples.’

  ‘I can’t use those. This is a different case. I need fresh samples.’

  Hellier looked across at Templeman, who nodded confirmation that Sean was telling the truth.

  ‘Fine,’ said Hellier. ‘Take your samples and get me out of here.’

  ‘I’m sorry,’ Sean said. ‘Get you out of here? No, that won’t be possible. You’re staying in custody until the DNA comparison’s complete.’

  ‘Fuck you,’ Hellier exploded. He was standing now. ‘You can’t keep me locked in this fucking cage.’ Templeman pulled him back into his seat.

  Sean spoke for the benefit of the tape recorder. ‘Interview terminated at twelve twenty-three p.m.’ He clicked the machine off. ‘I’ll arrange for someone to take your samples.’ Then he walked out of the interview room leaving Donnelly to deal with Templeman’s protests. He smiled as he closed the door behind him, listening to the raised voices fading in the background.

  Featherstone sipped a coffee as he waited outside the custody suite. He knew Sean would head that way eventually. Much as he liked the guy, even believed in him, he was aware that, so far as the top brass were concerned, Sean had a tendency to sail way too close to the wind.

  ‘Sean,’ Featherstone surprised him as he clattered through the door. ‘You got a minute?’ He gestured towards an unoccupied room.

  ‘Can this wait?’

  ‘Best not. We won’t be long.’

  Reluctantly, Sean followed Featherstone into the room.

  ‘It seems some influential people are beginning to stick their noses into your investigation,’ Featherstone warned him. ‘Calls have been put in to the Yard and the brass are getting nervous. I’ll keep the hounds at bay, but you’d better make sure you’ve got some evidence to back up any move you make.’

  ‘We found hairs at the latest scene,’ Sean told him. ‘We can get DNA off them. We match them to Hellier and then it’s all over.’

  ‘That’s a start,’ Featherstone said. ‘But we can’t hold a suspect in custody while we wait for a DNA comparison. So what’s the plan?’

  ‘I need to keep him rattled. Keep him off balance. Let me keep him locked up for a few hours.’ Sean spoke quietly, suppressing his anger. ‘Then I’ll bail him, once he’s nice and wound up, not thinking straight. The surveillance team can pick him up the second he leaves the station.’

  Featherstone inhaled deeply. ‘Okay. We’ll play it your way, but be careful with this one, Sean. Hellier has some very powerful friends.’

  ‘Thanks for the warning.’

  ‘One other thing,’ Featherstone said as Sean turned to leave. ‘What’s this I hear about the victim in Shepherd’s Bush saying she’d met you the night she was killed?’

  ‘You heard?’

  ‘There’s not much I don’t get to hear about.’

  ‘Hellier likes to play games.’

  ‘You need to be careful,’ Featherstone warned him again. ‘Be very careful. People are watching this case. People are watching you. My advice – make sure you can prove where you were and who you were with the night Linda Kotler was killed.’

  ‘You can’t be serious?’ Sean asked, incredulous. ‘You don’t actually think …?’

  ‘Not me,’ Featherstone assured him. ‘But this investigation is turning out to be more complex than anyone expected. It’s making the powers that be very nervous, Sean.’

  Sean felt a huge weight pressing down on him, as if Featherstone’s words and inferred suspicion were slowly crushing the life out of him. ‘I’ll bear that in mind,’ he said curtly, turning his back on the superintendent and walking out of the room.

  He made his way along the corridor and into the communal toilet. After checking to make sure he was alone, he filled a sink with cold water and bent low over it, scooping up handfuls and burying his face in it before straightening to meet his own reflection staring back. His eyes were sunken with tiredness and dehydration. Featherstone’s words still ringing around inside his head. He reached out for the reflection, but the image looking back at him kept distorting to someone else: to the disfigured image of Daniel Graydon, the horrified f
ace of Heather Freeman, and finally Linda Kotler, contorted with agony and fear. He rubbed the mirror, smearing it with water then waiting for it to clear. When it did, it was his own face again, staring back and asking the question: could he have killed Linda Kotler? He swallowed drily, remembering the images he’d seen in his head at the murder scenes and other murder scenes in the past. Not for the first time he found himself asking another question: were these images from his projected imagination, or were they memories – memories of crimes he had committed?

  ‘You were at home with Kate the night Linda Kotler died, and the same when Daniel Graydon was killed – you were at home.’ Desperately he tried to remember where he’d been the evening Heather Freeman was killed, but he couldn’t. He felt the panic seeping through his very soul. ‘You were with your wife,’ he hissed into the mirror, but he couldn’t chase away the doubt, the possibility he was no different from half the inmates of Broadmoor. Could it be that his home life was a fantasy, his wife a figment of his imagination, his entire family nothing more than a mirage – a projection of what he wanted most but could never have?

  ‘No,’ he banged the mirror with the underside of his fist. ‘For Christ’s sake, get a grip. You’re tired, that’s all. You solved those other murders. The people who did them are locked up for life because of you.’ He took a deep breath. ‘Hellier killed these people, not me. I’m real. My life is real. It’s real.’

  Suddenly the door was thrown open by a uniformed officer desperate for the toilet. He stalled for a second at the sight of Sean standing in front of the mirror, face dripping wet, hands gripping the basin. With a brief nod at Sean, he disappeared into a cubicle. When the door closed behind him, Sean quickly dried his hands on a bunch of paper towels and made for the exit.

  Sally entered Che shortly after 1 p.m. and immediately spotted Gibran seated at a table, sipping a glass of amber-coloured wine. He stood when he saw her. A waiter pulled a chair out for her as Gibran indicated for her to sit with a wave of his hand and a smile.

  ‘DS Jones. I’m very grateful you were able to see me.’

  ‘Please,’ she said. ‘Call me Sally.’

  ‘Sally, of course. And you must call me Sebastian – deal?’