by Luca Veste
You have it now. That sort of split personality. A compartmentalisation of thought and action. Regret and guilt forgotten, cast aside like elements of a bad equation.
You have a list. Eight names, to be crossed off one by one.
It all requires strength. Mental and physical. Some of those on the list were larger in size than you, which had proved an issue to overcome and would do in the future. It matters little. Your desire to right the wrongs committed, to bring balance and stability back, motivates you to be stronger than they are.
You are doing good via evil. Shades of grey, no right or wrong.
It is life. Decisions made, action taken, the aim of equilibrium never quite attained.
Now you have started, you can’t stop even if you want to. The only way is to keep going, moving forwards and doing what needs to be done. That’s the goal now.
That’s why your list is growing smaller, because regret and guilt have been discarded, abandoned as if it mattered little. It is just a feeling. A concept.
You have no guilt.
Just the yearning, craving desire to do it all again. To feel that power as life left the room and became nothingness. When breath ended and one less life was in that place. When an empty shell was all that was left behind.
Justice. To feel that control over what existed and what didn’t.
To feel it over and over again.
A reason to keep going.
To end it all. To bring them all to their knees.
To snuff out their lives from existence.
Until only one is left.
Twelve
If someone went missing and was then found dead, it would be at that point that Murphy would usually become involved. That was just the way of things. It didn’t happen often, but that was normality for him.
It wasn’t this way. Not normally.
Murphy moved round the car, careful not to get in anyone’s way as he did so. Everything would be examined, nothing left to chance. Everything they did here could prove important down the line. Everyone on the scene knew that now.
‘This is a big one,’ Murphy said, his voice only just above a whisper. ‘We’re going to be up against it from the start.’
‘Could be worse,’ Rossi replied, matching Murphy’s tone. ‘Could have been a kid. Then we’d be seriously under scrutiny.’
Murphy looked down at Rossi and tried to think of an argument. Decided against it and instead kept moving. The main activity was taking place at the back of the car.
‘What do you reckon, circular saw or do you think they put a bit more effort in?’
‘I don’t really want to think about it,’ Rossi said, brushing her hair out of her face with one hand. ‘I’m just glad the tent is up already. Don’t really want to chance pictures of this one getting out.’
‘Can you believe the guy took one when he found it?’ Murphy said, unable to hide the disgust in his voice. ‘What kind of person does that?’
‘Just the way things are these days. I’m betting he regrets it now.’
They had arrived an hour earlier to a scene of confusion. Murphy had started directing things before he’d even placed a foot out of the car. A couple of uniforms were standing over a middle-aged man who was on his knees looking up at them, shaking hands raised above his head. A mobile phone had been lying on the ground in front of him.
‘Honestly, I didn’t do nothing, I was just taking it, just in case. I haven’t got anything to do with this. Honest. Please, just let me delete it.’
Murphy had shouted towards another uniform who was directing traffic away from the scene and told him to call transport police, if he hadn’t already done it. He waited for the forensics van to pull in further up the road, then had made his way to the car which was sitting at the side of the dual carriageway.
The boot was open, a small length of rope hanging off the top.
‘I thought I was helping. I put myself in danger. It could have been anything in there.’
Murphy had approached the back of the car, Rossi only a couple of paces behind him. Once the body had come into view, he’d winced.
‘I would never have opened it if I’d known what was in there.’
‘That’s why we turned up and you’re taking pictures? Fucking disgusting.’
Murphy had left Rossi at the car and walked over to the uniforms. Told them it was time to put the guy in the back of a car and remove him from the scene.
That’s where he was now. Still in the back of a marked police car, peering out the rear window every few minutes. Murphy snapped off his gloves and made his way over there.
‘What’s his name?’ Murphy said to the uniform standing outside of the car. ‘We’re going to have a word.’
‘Only gave us his first name. Harry. Refused to do any checks as he wants to speak to a solicitor. Think he thinks we’re going to do him for something. Not sure what like.’
‘I could probably think of a few things,’ Rossi said, joining them at the rear of the vehicle. ‘Are the photos still on the phone or did he delete them before you took it off him?’
‘Still there. He dropped it before he had a chance to do anything.’
‘Good,’ Murphy replied, walking round the car to the driver’s side. He opened the door and waited for the uniform to get out. ‘Won’t be too long, just want a word.’
Murphy squeezed himself into the driver’s seat, moving the seat back as far as it would go and removing his knees from around his ears. ‘Sorry about that,’ he said to Harry who yelped when the seat shot back. ‘Long legs.’
Rossi opened the passenger-side door and got in with ease. ‘Phone is here,’ she said to Murphy, handing him an evidence bag. ‘Harry’s battery is low, but you can see the photos if you want.’
Murphy shook his head and turned slightly in his seat. He adjusted the rear-view mirror and stared at Harry sitting in the back seat. He looked to be about mid-forties, his face lined with life, greying hair rising from his temples. A podgy stomach protruded over too-tight jeans. He was slumped to his side, eyes screwed shut, shoulders heaving every few seconds. ‘You’re sniffing like a coke head, mate,’ Murphy said, staring in the mirror. ‘Anything else you want to tell us? Laura, write down that Mr Harry here needs a full body cavity search as well, once we’re at the station.’
‘I don’t do drugs,’ Harry said, his voice somehow small enough to get lost in the car.
‘What was that?’ Murphy said, cupping a hand to his ear. ‘Didn’t quite catch it, what did you say?’
‘I don’t do drugs,’ Harry replied, louder now.
‘Good to know. Although if you did, maybe it would explain what you were doing this morning, wouldn’t it?’
‘I didn’t do anything.’
Murphy exhaled through his nose. ‘Is that really going to be your defence? We find you at the boot of a car, taking pictures of a mutilated body, and you’re going to just tell us you didn’t do anything?’
‘I didn’t know . . .’
‘What? That someone had been brutalised and killed, so probably didn’t need their dignity destroying any further?’
Murphy continued to stare at Harry in the mirror, but the man remained slumped over.
‘Sit up. Now.’
Harry slowly pulled himself up as Murphy’s voice stopped echoing around the car.
‘Let me tell you what’s going to happen,’ Murphy said, lowering his voice. ‘You’re going to tell us everything you saw, heard, smelled and touched. Then you’re going to go down the station with the fine police officers outside, and they’ll explain to you how to go about purchasing a new phone. Understand?’
‘I want to speak to a solicitor . . .’
Murphy chuckled to himself, nodded towards Rossi.
‘At the moment,’ Rossi said, turning round and looking directly at the man in the back seat, ‘we can charge you with destroying evidence, compromising a crime scene, accessory after the fact, obstructing justice, causing a public nuisance . . . Should I
go on?’
Murphy held up a hand and looked in the mirror again. Harry was looking back, filmy eyes betraying him. He was scared. Hopefully enough to talk.
‘Now, we can avoid all that if you just speak to us,’ Murphy said, tapping the steering wheel with one hand. ‘If you’re just a witness to something, then we can treat you very differently. So why don’t you just start answering our questions? What were you doing here?’
There was silence for a few seconds, another sniff, then Harry started talking. ‘I was just having a walk, that’s all. Noticed the car and thought something wasn’t right.’
‘What time was this?’
‘About eleven thirty, midday. I went over and opened the boot and found what was in there.’
‘Why did you open the boot, Harry?’ Rossi said, notepad in hand as usual. ‘Seems a strange thing to do, just opening the boot of a parked car.’
‘I saw someone,’ Harry said quietly. ‘Walking away from the car. I noticed him fiddling with the boot and leaving it open.’
Murphy exchanged a look with Rossi. ‘On the rob,’ he mouthed. Then, ‘Tell me exactly what you saw.’
‘Some guy, that’s all. He was bundled up, which I thought was odd, you know, because it’s still quite warm. Had a big black jacket on, a hoodie underneath covering his face. Looked shifty, like. I stopped and watched him and he went to the back of the car and was messing with it.’
‘What was he doing?’ Murphy said.
‘They was tying a rope and spring around the boot, so it was a bit open, but not fully. Meant you could just unhook it and open it up like.’
‘Then what happened?’
‘Well, I waited a little bit, just to see what he was going to do next. He just walked off, down the road. Quick like, didn’t seem to want to hang around. I went over and thought I could see something inside. So I opened the boot up.’
‘Do you often go around opening other people’s cars?’
Harry didn’t answer, just shifted in the back seat. Murphy waited, but moved on when it became obvious the man wasn’t going to answer. ‘What about this guy you saw. What can you tell us about him?’
Harry shrugged his shoulders. ‘I don’t know. I told you, he was all bundled up. Couldn’t see him properly.’
‘How tall was he? Was he white, black, Asian, what?’
‘Not that tall,’ Harry said, looking out the side window. ‘Small really. About five six, five seven. Bulky, but that might have been all the clothes he had on. Seemed to be normal really. Think he was normal colour . . .’
‘What’s normal, Harry?’ Rossi said, her pen pointing at Harry.
‘You know, white. Not one of them coloureds or muzzies or whatever.’
Murphy gave a slight shake of his head. Casual racism alive and well in 2016.
‘He had gloves on as well, so it’ll be my fingerprints on the boot,’ Harry said, suddenly sitting up and leaning forwards. ‘I had nothing to do with it, though. Don’t try and pin it on me. There’s no way I’d have anything to do with anything like this.’
‘No, you just like taking pictures of it,’ Murphy said, annoyed now. ‘Which way did he walk?’
‘Down towards Statton Road, that way. Went in a hurry like, but not, if that makes sense?’
‘Not really,’ Rossi said, putting her notepad away. ‘We’re going to have more questions for you. You can go with the officers out there to the station. Someone will speak to you there.’
‘You’re joking, aren’t you?’ Harry replied, the shaking now beginning to disappear. ‘I’ve got to sign on later and I’ve got stuff to do.’
‘Probably should have kept your phone in your pocket then,’ Murphy said, opening the car door and getting out. He waited for Rossi to exit, then walked back towards the tent. He ignored the shouts from the back of the marked car as he did so, waiting for Rossi to join him.
‘What are you thinking?’
Murphy looked around, spotting a couple of cameras as he did so. ‘CCTV will probably corroborate his story. Just wondering how far we can track whoever did this. They’ve gone some way to disguise themselves, but in broad daylight like this? Seems ballsy to me.’
‘Obviously our guy in there didn’t have anything to do with it?’
‘Well, we’ve been wrong before, but I doubt it,’ Murphy replied, taking a soft mint from a packet in his pocket and sticking it in his mouth. ‘Doesn’t mean he doesn’t know more. He’s not going anywhere for now.’
Murphy stuck his hands in his pockets and watched the forensics team as they moved back and forth from within the tent. The road remained closed off and traffic was already building up in a lengthy tailback, a few scattered horns sounding in the distance.
Thirteen
It was a couple more hours before Murphy and Rossi were able to leave. With no joy from the nearby houses, they had been forced to widen the search perimeter to look for possible witnesses. They’d marked out on a map possible routes that a person walking away from the car might have taken. Uniforms would take over now, going door to door. Which left little for them to do at the scene, especially as the body was about to be removed.
‘The guy isn’t exactly the most trustworthy witness we’ve ever had,’ Rossi said, clicking on her seat belt. ‘He said towards the estate, but it could easily have been the exact opposite direction. It’s a lot of doors to knock on without knowing if it’s going to lead to anything.’
‘Still got to do it,’ Murphy replied, taking off the handbrake and moving away. ‘Car looked clean inside, but hopefully there’s a receipt tucked away somewhere. A nice close-up picture of the suspect getting a McDonalds drive-thru would be nice.’
‘Those things are always shockingly shit anyway. You would think CCTV would be in HD by now.’
‘You know why it’s not,’ Murphy said, passing drivers still stuck in traffic on the opposite side of the A road. He saw a few shaking their heads at him as he drove past, probably oblivious to what was happening. He hoped. ‘No storage for that kind of thing. We just have to make do for now.’
‘I know. Just annoying that’s all. Settled in the new house yet?’
Murphy took one hand off the steering wheel and scratched the side of his beard. ‘Getting there. Still a few boxes need unpacking and putting somewhere. I swear this house is smaller. Seems like we’re tripping over things constantly. Should be a much bigger place, given it’s not as nice an area as where we used to be.’
‘It’s still bloody nice round there,’ Rossi said, laughing to herself. ‘You’d think you’d moved to Kenny or Norris Green. It’s Crosby for Christ’s sake. You’re a few years away from going full posh and moving to Formby.’
‘On a DI wage? You must be joking.’
‘And Sarah going back to uni. Once she’s graduated, you’re definitely going. Bet you a fiver now. It’ll be there or Gateacre.’
‘Not a chance of Formby,’ Murphy said, indicating and turning into Edge Lane Retail Park. ‘They’d throw me out of there in five seconds with this accent.’
He drove through the McDonalds, ordering two coffees and a large fries to share.
‘My mam would kill me if she knew I was eating this,’ Rossi said, grabbing a handful of fries as Murphy drove away. ‘This is not the food an Italian should be eating.’
Murphy took a swig of his coffee, realising he should have read the warning on the outside of the cup first. ‘How’s it going with you and Darren anyway?’ he said, trying to cool his burning mouth, to no avail. ‘Still in the honeymoon period?’
‘He’s there, like, all the time,’ Rossi said, blowing into the coffee cup. ‘Never get any peace.’
‘That’s the point in living with someone, Laura. It means you have to share space with them and actually want to as well.’
‘I know, I know,’ Rossi replied, still blowing into her coffee. ‘I just didn’t think it through properly. Thought I’d be used to it by now. I quite liked going home to an empty house, deciding what I w
ant to watch on TV, what to eat, all that sort of thing. Now we have to discuss everything and neither one of us is very good at making decisions on small things. He’s even started talking about having a family and buying a bigger house. It’s ridiculous.’
‘You’ll get used to it,’ Murphy said, risking another sip of coffee and then swearing under his breath at making the same mistake again. ‘Looks like we’ve got something here to keep you out the house for a bit anyway.’
‘Not wrong there,’ Rossi said, taking another fistful of fries. ‘Why do you think they cut him up? Usually means they’re going to dispose of the body in a different way. They’ve cut him up and stuck him in the boot of a car and left him to be found on purpose.’
‘Ever tried lifting a dead weight? My guess is this is someone working alone, couldn’t lift him and needed to get him out to the car. Easier in a few parts.’
‘I do so love my job,’ Rossi replied, staring out the window as the houses flashed by. ‘Where else could you have a conversation like this?’
‘I can’t think of anything worse to do to someone after they’re dead. Cutting them up and that.’
‘Never heard of necrophilia?’
Murphy raised his eyebrows at Rossi and waited for the lights to change. ‘OK, you win. That’s much worse. For that, you can finish off the fries. Lost my appetite all of sudden.’
‘Don’t mind if I do,’ Rossi said, grabbing the box and chomping down the rest. Murphy shook his head and continued driving.
They were back at the station within fifteen minutes, despite having to negotiate the ever-increasing traffic near the city centre. Murphy sat in the car a few seconds after Rossi had got out, closing his eyes and breathing a little.
Steeling himself.
Walking into the incident room, he was glad of the quiet moment he’d taken. DCI Stephens was standing at her office door, arms folded and waiting.
‘David, please,’ she said as he made his way in. Murphy beckoned towards Rossi who was further into the room than he was, but DCI Stephens put up her hand. ‘Just you for now.’
Rossi made as if to say something, then turned away, keeping quiet. Murphy was still a little further behind, so it took him longer to work out what she’d seen.
