by J. A. Gill
The road was full of parked cars so I parked a few streets away and walked the short distance to 17 Dereham Mews. I rang the doorbell and waited. A face appeared at the window on the second floor. I showed my warrant card. A few minutes later a young woman in a dressing gown appeared at the door.
'Hello?'
'I'm Chief Inspector Hardy. Tara Bishop?'
Tara nodded. 'What's wrong?'
'Do you mind if we go inside? I need to talk to you, ask a few questions, that sort of thing. Not the sort of thing to be done on a doorstep.'
'Let me see your police badge again.'
'My warrant card? Of course.' Tara carefully inspected the warrant card, presumably in her mind satisfying herself it was genuine. I followed Tara to her one bedroom apartment which was warm, if a bit of mess, with clothes scattered on chairs and some on the floor. She gathered an armful together to reveal an armchair for me.
'Sorry,' she said. 'No maid service, you know how it is. Tea? I was just making some.'
I noted the pile of unclean dishes piled up in the sink and over the work top. 'That's very kind but, no thank you. I have some bad news.'
'My dad, I suppose.' Tara began looking at the cups amongst the dirty dishes, checking them to see if she could find one clean enough to use.
'No not your dad. As far as I am aware your dad is fine. I'm here about your friend, Faye.'
'Faye. What has she done now? Whatever it is I can't help I haven't seen her in a couple of months. Is she alright?' Tara stopped trying to find a clean cup and looked at me. 'What is it?'
'I'm afraid not. She was murdered. Possibly yesterday, possibly the day before. We'll know for sure tomorrow morning. Her body was discovered early this morning at her parent's home.'
Tara stood and stared at me. For a while she couldn't speak or at least didn't know what to say. I sat her in the chair she had cleared for me and made her some tea while the news sank in. For some reason, I was tempted to do the washing up but thought better of it. I sat with her and drank tea. A biscuit would be nice, I was feeling hungry. I watched her for a while. She looked pale, red around the eyes but no crying. I was keen to get on with the questions but held back. No point pushing her straight away, better to let it sink in then the brain can process questions easier. I looked at the clock on the front of the oven, nearly six o'clock.
'You knew her well, Faye I mean, I understand you were school friends.'
'Yeah. Best friends since primary school. She used to look after me. I used to get bullied a lot, I was quiet and very shy,' Tara explained. 'Made me a perfect target.'
'I'm sorry.'
'I haven't seen her in a while. I moved in here with my boyfriend, she looked around her apartment. Her work means she sort of vanishes into her world and for a while she sort of falls off the radar for a bit. Then after a few months she sort of pops back up again and we catch up. Then a few months later it starts all over again.'
'What work does she do?'
'Journalist. She was always clever, I lost count of the number of times I wished I could be like her.'
'For who? Who did she work for?'
'Nobody and everybody. She does her own investigative journalism, said she was freelance. Just like school she likes to report on bullies and help the little guy. She's always been a fighter. She exposes all sorts of stuff. Corrupt politicians, dodgy coppers, sorry. Perverts, drug dealers. She's done stuff on how much the armed forces spend on renewing missiles. NHS wastefulness. Charity scams. She's fearless. If she hears about someone whose corrupt or has got away with something, something that Faye feels she can report on, then she does a video and posts it online. She's got so many followers, millions of followers, all around the world. Look.'
Tara called up one of Faye's videos on her phone and showed me. Right there in front of me was the girl I'd seen lifeless in the bath. Now alive, vibrant and full of indignation.
'Do you know what she was working on at the moment?'
'No, like I said I haven't seen her for a few months. Since before the summer I think. Last I heard she was hanging out with some club owner. She was trying to find out about how freely drugs were available in clubs. She did whatever it took to get the information, if you know what I mean.'
'What did she do for money?'
'Parents looked after her. They're loaded. She also made money from her videos, somehow. I'm not really sure how. She sold her stories to national papers, occasionally. You know, I don't know, I'm just guessing. She told me she'd use whatever it took to like, get in with the right people. Her dad's money. Herself. Blackmail if she had to. I once went to a party with her when we were fifteen. Professional footballers, one of the big clubs. I remember her like, telling one of them she was only fifteen. This guy was all over her. It was like she couldn't see what he wanted. There were drugs as well, pills of some sort. Some guy was videoing the party, I remember he wanted to get close ups of us girls. It was creepy. I was really uncomfortable, scared, I wanted to leave and so me and Faye, we like, ended up having a screaming match outside. She got me a cab and I left. I was afraid for her. I just wanted my friend with me, safe. I wanted to help her but she kept pushing me away. It was like she was deliberately putting herself in harm's way.'
'So what a happened?'
'I went home and I told my mum and dad and I was grounded for months. Of course, I later realised Faye had sent me home on purpose. Faye got her first story. That's how she started doing what she does, what she did. She told me later she'd done it for a girl at our school who said she'd been raped by two footballers. The footballers said it was consensual. They said they also had no idea she was under age. The girl was too scared to go to the police. She didn't believe anyone would believe her story. So Faye decided she would do something about it. She put herself in harm's way to get the evidence. She recorded it all. She planned the whole thing. They went to prison but got ridiculously short sentences. But their football careers were over. She also made sure anyone who offered them a job got press clippings in the post. She was a hero, and my best friend.'
I left Tara's feeling pretty down and exhausted. It seemed to me someone like Faye would have an endless list of enemies. What would drive someone so young to put herself in harm's way like that? There are plenty of ways to expose corruption and miscarriages of justice. Doing what she did, she must have known it was only a matter of time before someone caught up with her.
Twenty-Nine
It was late and I was driving home, I was trying to spend as much time as I could at home but my workload right now was taking big chunks out of each day. I was thinking how every investigation so quickly becomes personal when my phone rang for what felt like the hundredth time that day. I recognised the number, it was the Mayor's office. I was tempted to ignore it but decided to brave it out so instead I reluctantly pressed the answer button on the steering wheel.
'Caroline Kemp from the Mayor's office, I have the Mayor on the line for you.'
We had a new Mayor and Caroline Kemp wasn't a name I recognised, I presumed she was his PA. Broadly speaking, I got on well with the Mayor's office. Though I stay as far away from politics as possible, I recognise things work best when there is an amicable relationship. The Mayor of London is an elected politician, and as each politician comes and goes, they each want to leave their mark. The way I see it is as long as that mark isn't me being left out to dry I'm pretty easy going.
'I'm driving at the moment, Caroline' I said. 'But I'm happy to speak to the Mayor, thank you.'
Inspector Hardy,' said Mayor. 'This is Jimmy Carrington, it's good to finally speak to you, though if I'm honest I was hoping it would be under different circumstances. I've heard so many great things about you, you're something of a legend.'
I could already sense the political overtones. 'Likewise. How can I help Mayor?' I wasn't in the mood for dancing around. I wouldn't be getting this call unless Mayor Carrington had an agenda and I had a feeling my interests weren't of paramount importance
to him at this moment in time.
'Look, the thing is this,' started the Mayor. 'Tourism as you know is vital to the economy of London and the whole of the UK for that matter. Well, I've just been informed another dead body directly associated with the investigation you're on has been found. So I suppose what I am saying is that national and international lead stories about London serial killers on the loose, do not benefit the capital. I also have it on good authority that a Hollywood film crew have suddenly pulled out of filming in the capital and moved their location to Amsterdam. Do you have any idea how much work it has taken Ministers to make London desirable for filming? They pulled out, apparently, because the director's new wife was nervous about bringing their new baby into the country while we have a killer on the loose. A bigger concern is how much damage will be done once that story circulates around Hollywood? She's not the only one, there's a growing sense of paranoia surrounding these murders.'
I interrupted without thinking. 'Perhaps you should mention the inconvenience to all families of victims.'
'I don't need a smart mouth, Inspector, I need results. I need to know you're on top of this. I know you've been successful in the past, maybe you had a lucky streak or maybe you have other priorities now, I don't know and I don't care. What I need is someone who can deliver results and right now I'm not seeing any. So firstly, I want to know that you are the right man for the job and secondly, that you are on top of this thing. I need this, London needs this resolved and resolved quickly.'
I tried to stay calm but with little success. Our new Mayor wasn't out to make friends today, he was on a mission of damage control.
'I thought it impossible but you're perhaps more of a bloody idiot than our previous Mayor. I'm sorry our serial killer hasn't considered the implications on the UK economy before embarking on his killing spree, I'll be sure to take it up with him when the time comes -- I'll include it as one of his list of crimes, shall I? Now unless you can convince the killer to hand himself in during your next TV sound-bite then I'll continue to investigate how I see fit. That means doing my duty for the benefit of the victim and the victim's family. I will bring this killer in and I will ensure the families see this man behind bars for a very long time. I will do all I can to keep citizens safe. What I can't do is second guess what the killer will do next and what I won't do is take short cuts which put more lives at risk. So, unless you have valuable information which might lead to an arrest I suggest you leave me alone to do my job. If you have a problem with me or any of that I suggest you speak to my boss. Do you have the number for the Chief'
I was getting increasingly angry so pulled the car over and parked. There was silence for a moment. I could hear a slight cough, whispering and a clearing of throat on an otherwise quiet line. It then dawned on me that over the noise of driving I hadn't been able to tell I was on a conference call with any number of people. I had little doubt that Chief Superintendent Webster was part of the meeting. Not that it made any difference. At that moment I didn't care, what I said was the truth and how I felt. The Prime Minister himself could have been part of the conference call and I wouldn't have changed a word. I put myself under enough pressure as it is with facts, evidence and possibilities floating round my head every minute of the day without this moron's political agenda thrown into the mix.
Finally the Mayor spoke again. 'That won't be necessary. I'll expect an update from Chief Superintendent Webster as soon as there are any more developments. In the meantime, do get this situation under control, and I mean sooner rather than later. Thank you for your time this evening Inspector.'
I wasn't sure what was said in that room and I didn't care, I was just glad I was being left alone to get on with it.
Thirty
There was no denying Faye had made him question whether what he was doing was right. For the first time he'd felt shaken and disturbed by his course of action. She had gotten to him. Emotions had crept up on him like a dark shadow and it had undeniably shocked him. Remorse was something he had not expected to feel, after all he was the victim in all this, even if he was the only one to see it. Distance and time helped, it gave him back his perspective and he could once more see his justification in continuing. He'd also considered the loneliness of other great men who had stood by their convictions when all around them lesser men trembled with uncertainty.
Baker sat in his car and looked up at the house. 'I see your children Detective Chief Inspector Hardy. I see your girlfriend. I don't see you. Where are you this evening?' He Baker was sketching. He'd drawn a superhero complete with cape, utility belt and a huge "H" on the chest. The superhero was holding a woman in his arms, his cape blowing in the wind. The woman he held in his muscular arms was lifeless, water dripped and rose petals fell from her and were caught and scattered in the same breeze that lifted the hero's cape. Across the top of the page in comic book style lettering read:
HARDYMAN
Scotland Yard's Crime Crusader
Man or Myth?
Then across the bottom he wrote:
Coming to a Cinema Near You Soon
In the background Baker drew a shadowy, masked villain with bulging muscles and grimacing face. The villain brandished a blood-soaked blade and held aloft a severed head. He stood atop a mountain of skulls. Baker looked up and watched as a car pulled up; it was Hardy arriving home. Evening all. What's all this then? Where do you live? 999 Letsby Avenue. The old ones are the best.
Baker watched as Hardy was met at the front door by his excited daughters. The detective chief inspector scooped the girls up in his arms, kissed them and carried them into the house. Sleep tight, Hardyman. You're going to need your superior Scotland Yard sleuthing senses.
Baker tore the drawing from the pad, signed it, folded it and slipped it into a clear plastic bag. He sealed the bag then got out of the car. Pulling a cap down to disguise his face he walked over and lifted the windscreen wiper of Hardy's car. He placed the bagged drawing underneath. There we go my friend, I'm applying a little extra pressure. Now you know for sure I'm more than one step ahead and that I also have my eye on you and yours.
Thirty-One
Things just got very personal. Rayner saw where I was heading and could see from my face something wasn't right. He jumped up from behind his desk and followed close behind. I knocked once and opened the door without waiting. 'He came to my home last night and tucked this under the windscreen wiper of my car.' I placed the clear plastic evidence bag containing the drawing on his desk. 'He knows where I live, where my children live.'
'Slow down. Who did?' asked Webster. He looked up from his pile of paperwork and motioned for Rayner to come in.
'The gallery killer,' I said.
'You're sure it's him?' Webster picked up the drawing and began examining it.
'He must be watching you. He must have followed you home,' added Rayner from behind me. Rayner shut the door and stood beside me. 'I'll run surveillance twenty four seven and if he turns up again...'
'We'll do this properly,' interrupted Webster. 'Where are your family now?'
'They're with my parents. Dad's there and he understands. He's had similar situations in the past, as you know.'
'Okay, good,' said Webster. 'What does this even mean?'
'The drawing itself most likely has very little meaning, the significance comes from the fact the killer is sending us a message, he wants us to know he can reach out and touch us whenever and wherever he wants. I've seen this before, sometimes for the killer the focus shifts from killing to communicating, showing whoever he deems worthy that he is smarter than them, it becomes about proving they are inferior beings. Sometimes it can be taunting, sometimes cryptic messages. That said, we're jumping ahead of ourselves here, this is a single incident but it feels as though this is a message along those lines.'
Webster looked uncomfortable. 'What do you suggest we do about it?'
'Nothing. We let forensics examine it, but we keep this to ourselves. It may encourage him to
send another or communicate in some other way and if he does then he may make a mistake or create a break in the case in some other way.'
Rayner brought the attention back to the present. 'I want to be involved in overseeing the safety of Monica, Alice and Faith.'
'You're right, that needs to be the priority here,' agreed Webster.
I was happy to hear that and the three of us spent the next hour working out a plan and organising resource to ensure there was a police presence at both houses. It was decided Monica and the girls would remain at my parent's home while I stayed at the family home. We'd run a surveillance team headed by Rayner in case the gallery killer came back, which in reality we all felt was unlikely. My instincts told me this was nothing more than the gallery killer showing me his superiority and that he could reach at me and my loved ones whenever he chose to.
Eventually we turned our attention back to the drawing left on the car. 'Can we learn anything from the drawing? Apart from the fact he likes drawing caricatures and he's actually pretty good at it,' asked Webster.
'He's either mocking me, taunting me or challenging me. At the moment it's too early to say. To have spent time tracking me down shows an interest in the investigation otherwise why bother. If he wanted to hurt me or my family he would have done it. If that was his intention why warn me like this? Though I'm concerned I don't think harming us was his true intention. At the moment, my instincts tell me he's challenging me, trying to show me how smart he is. If he wanted to taunt me or mock me he could simply do that at the murder scene, so everyone could see. In his mind, he's starting a game of cat and mouse.'
The room was awkwardly silent for a moment while we all considered the facts. 'I'll get this down to the prints lab and forensic team to see if anything turns up,' I said finally.
