Last Gasp

by Robert F Barker

  'Jamie? Did you get that? I said I went to-'

  'I heard. What happened? You two have a girly chat?'

  'Something like that. What do you want to do?'

  He checked the time. Just gone midnight. He turned to Rosanna. She was already reading him. His heart sank at the thought of yet another weekend cut short. But he couldn’t risk a change of heart.

  'I’ll see you at the nick at eight.' He checked back with Rosanna. Read her face. 'Make that nine. You can tell me about it on the way.'

  'Right.' There was a pause, then, 'You don’t mind I went to see her do you?'

  He hoped the hesitation before he answered was brief enough she didn’t notice. 'No, I’d probably have suggested it anyway.' And he couldn’t tell if the noise he heard was a relieved sigh or just static on the line. 'I'll see you tomorrow. And Jess?'

  'Yes?'

  'Well done.'

  She hung up.

  Carver stared at his phone. For twenty-four hours, he’d managed to keep all thoughts of Megan Crane at bay. Now her face hovered before his eyes, mocking, alluring. Inviting.

  Jess had said she was willing to cooperate, which meant the door to her world was about to open for them. Where would it lead, he wondered? Deep down, another memory stirred. Despite his efforts, he couldn't stop it breaking through.

  A crowded court room. In the dock a tall figure, resisting the flanking security officers trying to drag him down to the cells. A look of hate, aimed squarely at Carver. The shouted words that reflected that hate in every syllable. 'YOU'RE DEAD, CARVER. YOU AND THAT OTHER BITCH. WHATEVER HAPPENS TO ME, YOU'RE BOTH DEAD.'

  And as the memory of Edmund Hart’s cursings echoed in his head - they'd been doing so more and more of late - the knot inside Carver's stomach tightened another notch. Closing his eyes, he forced himself back to the present. He turned to Rosanna. He opened his mouth to speak but she placed a finger across them.

  ‘Don’t.’

  Her eyes sent their message. Forcing his mind back to where it was before Jess’s message, he slid his arms under and round her. She wrapped her legs round him and their mouths melded, tongues, playing, probing. He felt himself responding again.

  Thank God.

  He never gave a thought as to why Jess had left it so late to call.

  Chapter 18

  Thirty minutes in, Carver thought his second meeting with Megan Crane was going a whole lot better than the first. Conversation was cordial, if not exactly friendly, and she seemed better disposed towards their mission than at the end of their last encounter. So far everything seemed to bear out what Jess had told him on the way there. That whatever the reason for Megan Crane’s turn-around – she’d given no clue - she was now willing to help their cause as much as she could, within reason. There was just one problem. Every time he looked at her.

  By now, Carver was certain that her decision to take the sofa directly opposite, rather than the chair where she’d sat last time, was a calculated one. The same for the above-the-knee black skirt that went so well with her blouse. Each time he looked up, he couldn’t help but notice what it wasn’t covering. He suspected it was a test. So far, he thought he’d done a fair job of not failing it. No wandering eyes. No knowing looks or half-smiles. No jokey-allusions of the, 'view from here' variety. She would take any of those as a sign of weakness. A susceptibility to being manipulated. And the last thing he needed was her thinking she could manipulate him.

  He focused again on the matter under discussion.

  'This ‘wide circle of friends’, you mentioned?'

  'What about it?'

  'Can I ask, how many is 'wide'?'

  There was a hint of a smile. 'You can ask, but I won’t say.'

  Great. But it was within the rules. At the beginning he’d agreed they wouldn't press for details of what she referred to as her, 'circle,' unless there was good reason. That reason was yet to show itself.

  'Fair enough, but we do need to know about any new or recent contacts. One of them could be the killer.'

  'Define ‘recent’'

  He thought about it. 'The past twelve, maybe fifteen, months.' He was tempted to say longer, but it would do for starters. She would be more willing to reveal recent contacts.

  Like him, she thought on it. 'There are a couple. I'm happy to give you their details.'

  'Good. What we need is-'

  'Before we go further, can you explain something?'

  'If I can.'

  'Out of all the listings in the magazine, you seem to be focusing on me. Why is that? Presumably the killer could choose anyone?'

  Carver turned to Jess, nodded. Reaching down, she fished in her case for the magazine, handed it to him. Carver sat forward, conscious that by doing so, his view was considerably improved. He spread it open on the coffee table between them. She leaned forward. He pointed at one of the photographs. Next to it was a star, penned in red.

  'Do you know her?'

  'No.'

  Flicking through the booklet he stopped at another photo, also starred. 'This one?'

  'No.'

  A third. 'Her?'

  'No.'

  He nodded. 'They’re the last three victims. The first was in an earlier edition.'

  Megan Crane's hand went to her mouth. Some of her colour drained.

  'You saw the stars?'

  She nodded. The 'Yes' was barely a whisper.

  He turned to her picture again. This time he made sure she saw the star next to it.

  'The only photos that are starred, are the victims, and you. This is a copy of the original magazine that came into our possession. It's now with our forensic people. The stars were already there.’

  Her eyes widened. 'Oh my God.'

  He waited, letting it sink in. Then the questions began to tumble out.

  'How did you come by it? Did the killer send it to you? What does it mean? Why me?'

  He tried to reassure her, explaining how the magazine had arrived through the post, addressed to him personally. 'We don't think it came from the killer. Why tell us how he's choosing his victims, who he's thinking of targeting next? More likely it was sent by someone who is close enough to him or the circle he moves in to know, or at least suspect, something.'

  'So whoever sent it could have got it off the killer?'

  'Possibly. Or someone is trying to second-guess him and wants to tip us off.'

  'But why would the killer, or someone else, pick me out as a possible victim?'

  'We can’t answer that. All we know is that on the face of it, your entry is similar to the others. It’s one of the things we hope you might be able to help us with. You may even know or be connected with the victims in some way.’

  She shook her head, slowly, staring down at the booklet, mind working. 'If I am, I’m not aware of it. I certainly don't know any of them.’ She looked up, caught Carver's eye. 'I'm sorry,' she said.

  Carver squashed his disappointment. But there were still other ways she could help.

  'If you can take it, I'd like to show you how the victims died. It may mean something to you.'

  Her eyes widened again. She swallowed, gave a cautious nod. 'Okay.'

  'I have to warn you. It's not pretty.'

  She gave him a square look. 'I've seen plenty of things most people might find hard to stomach.'

  'Violent death?'

  'Staged, yes. But not real.'

  'What I'm about to show you is very real.'

  She took a deep breath followed by a good slug of whiskey. 'I'm ready.'

  Carver opened the folder on the table so she could see. Amongst the papers was a booklet of photographs. He picked it up and was about to pass it across when he hesitated. Showing photos like these to someone outside the investigation was normally a no-no, for all sorts of reasons. He'd done it only once before, during the Hart case - another parallel. To his right, he could sense Jess's breathless stare. They both knew it was a risk. But they’d agreed. He handed the booklet across.


  'These show the victims as the killer left them. As you'll see, it's all very 'staged'. Tell us if any of it means anything to you.'

  As Megan Crane opened the booklet and her eyes lit on the first picture, she didn't so much react as simply freeze, to the point where it was hard to tell if she was even breathing. As Carver watched her staring down at what, for all he knew, might be the first dead body she'd ever seen, he found it impossible to gauge what was going through her mind. Her face was a blank mask, lips slightly parted. There were none of the facial reactions - anguish, horror, fear - most people exposed to such images for the first time might register. But then Megan Crane wasn’t ‘most people’. Nevertheless, he noted the tiny movements above her jaw. She was grinding her teeth the way some do when they are trying to mask emotion. Slowly, she turned to the next picture. There was one sharp intake of breath, then she resumed her almost detached, perusal. For a full ten minutes there was only silence. As Megan Crane studied the photographs, Carver and Jess watched for signs of recognition or insight. None came. After giving the last picture the same lengthy study as the rest, Megan Crane closed the booklet and placed it back on the coffee table. Lifting her head, she closed her eyes and took several long breaths, as if purging herself of contamination from looking at the booklet’s repellent contents. Eventually, she returned her gaze to Carver.

  'The way- The way they are posed-' Carver waited. Anything would be good. 'It's not dissimilar to the sort of thing you find in fetish magazines, or thousands of web sites.'

  Carver's heart sank. Her words were no surprise. Like others, he'd done the research. But he'd hoped that being an, ‘expert’, she might offer something.

  'That said-'

  'Yes?'

  'The way they are posed, as if they're praying. I assume that’s where this ‘Worshipping’ thing comes from?'

  Carver read her face. 'You've seen it before?'

  'I'm not certain. It feels familiar, but I'm not sure why, or where from.' She looked at them, both. 'Tell me about the hands.'

  They said it together. 'Superglued.'

  She nodded, as if confirming something in her mind. 'I seem to remember either hearing or reading something. It would be a few years ago now. It was about using glue as a restraint, in place of rope. And how it could be dangerous because it can cause burns. I think someone had tried it and were talking about how long it took to un-stick themselves. It wasn’t recommended.'

  'I can imagine. Can you remember who you heard it from, where you read it?'

  She closed her eyes, searching for it. 'It's not there. But give me time. I'll probably remember the moment you leave.'

  Carver gave her a cautious look. So far she'd managed to avoid naming any of her 'circle'.

  'I swear, I'm not holding back. Believe me, if I can remember who it was, I'll tell you.'

  He nodded. 'It could be important.'

  She pinned him with a look. 'If I promise to do something, Jamie, you can count on me doing it.'

  He returned her gaze. Message received. But he noted one thing. For the first time, she'd called him by name.

  As they continued, Carver sensed things becoming more relaxed, the bottle of single malt she'd opened soon after they arrived, also playing its part. Over the next hour, he revealed more about the four murders than he had to anyone outside the enquiry team. Personal information about the victims, their habits and interests, details of the killer's MO. When he mentioned the black-ribbon garrotte, she nodded again.

  'It's another common motif in BDSM. I've seen it used many times. Sometimes unwisely.’

  'In what way?' Jess said.

  Megan looked at them. 'I take it you know about erotic asphyxiation?'

  'We do now,' Jess said.

  'To practice it safely, you've got to know what you're doing. You also need to know your partner. I’ve met subs who like to be taken right to the edge, to the point where they black out. To do that they need a partner they can rely on to stop before damage occurs. I've known plenty who would love to take things further, a lot further, if they were given half a chance.' She gave Carver a direct look. 'They're the sort who end up killing someone. You’ve probably met some.’

  He nodded. 'A couple.'

  There was another short silence. Jess broke it. 'So our killer is likely to be someone like that? Someone who doesn’t know when to stop?'

  Megan held Carver's gaze another moment, before turning to her. 'Possibly, but it doesn’t necessarily follow. I'm sure you must have someone… one of those… What do you call them? They’re in all the TV crime dramas...’

  'Profiler?’ Jess said.

  ‘Forensic Psychologist,' Carver corrected.

  'Them. What does your profiler say?'

  Carver hummed, careful not to sound disparaging. 'He's keeping his options open.'

  'Can I ask if the killer ejaculates? That would give an indication.'

  'It would, and from a DNA point of view it would be a big help if he did. But so far we’ve found no fresh traces of body fluids of any sort. If the killer ejaculates then he does a good job of cleaning up after, or he takes it away with him.'

  They talked further about what, if anything Megan could draw from the killer's method. But she was wary about speculating too far.

  'It could just be a show. What if the killer is staging the whole thing to cover up something else?'

  'Like what?'

  'I don't know. Maybe he just hates dominatrices and likes to make them suffer.'

  'We've considered that as well.'

  'Of course you have. I'm sorry. I’m not being very helpful.'

  'Don't worry,' Carver said. 'I'm sure you will be. In other ways.'

  They turned their attention to DOM magazine, its contributors, subscribers, circulation. Jess had a question.

  'I thought all this contact stuff is done online these days? Why use a magazine that relies on snail-mail that can take weeks, when you can make contact with someone right away?'

  Megan gave a patient smile. 'People like me aren't interested in casual, short term, relationships. Like I said, I'm not a prostitute.' She said it so matter-of-factly, Carver was happy it wasn’t a dig. 'The internet is full of time-wasters. People who just want sex, or who’ve got something to hide. That's why it's so dangerous. DOM is for those who genuinely want to meet someone they can develop a relationship with. Someone you can get to know, and trust. It requires openness and honesty. You’re more likely to find that in someone who’s willing to write a letter and give a name and address. No, the internet is too easy. Too anonymous.’

  Jess nodded. ‘Sounds logical.’

  'Some of the subscribers are professionals of course. You are right about that.’ Carver made sure not to look smug. 'But most are simply interested in finding like-minded individuals. Without having to stoop to payment, or run the risk of being discovered in a place of ill-repute.'

  Carver quashed the impulse to smile, saw Jess doing the same. There were times when her phrasing was almost puritan.

  As the afternoon drew out, Megan rustled up a platter of sandwiches and they talked over it. Carver returned to the subject of her recent contacts. 'I know you’re reluctant, but I am going to have to ask for their details.'

  For what seemed like minutes, Megan’s eyes bored into his. He hardly blinked. She seemed to be going through the same decision-making process as the day before. 'Wait a minute.'

  Rising, she went through to the kitchen. A door opened, then closed. Carver and Jess waited in silence. When she returned she was clutching a handful of papers which she cradled in her lap, protectively. Carver remembered her assertion of two days before. I don't keep records. Nice bluff.

  ‘Let me be clear. I won’t give you copies of anything unless you force me to. I mean, legally.' Carver nodded his agreement. She took a deep breath. 'You might want to make notes?'

  Jess took out her notepad and sat, poised, like a secretary at a board meeting.

  Megan Crane talked, guardedly at
first, but then more freely. For the most part, the detectives listened in silence, interrupting only where some detail needed clarifying. Jess noted names, places, details. Occasionally, Megan referred to the papers in her lap, but mostly spoke from memory. Jess scribbled to keep up. They had been talking for close to thirty minutes when Megan gave a name that struck Carver like a thunderbolt. He didn’t flinch and Jess managed to keep writing without pausing.

  The light dimmed as the afternoon gave way to early evening, then a grey dusk. Jess switched on the table lamp next to her so she could see. For a long time it was the only light in the house.

  Carver never gave the view from the sofa another thought.

  Chapter 19

  By the time Alec Duncan poked his head round The Duke’s door, the fireworks had died down and the meeting was in the throes of breaking up. The six participants had already split into pairs, discussing what had emerged.

  Carver was talking to Mike Frayne, the Surveillance Unit DI, about requirements for the meetings that were to be set up between Megan Crane and her would-be ‘companions’

  Shepherd, still agitated over Carver’s startling revelation concerning William Cosworth had gone straight for The Duke, though the big man was having none of it. He’d agreed with Carver’s assertion that arresting Cosworth just because he’d contacted Megan Crane through the pages of ‘DOM!’ would be premature, and, most probably, counter-productive. As Carver had argued, 'Evidence-wise it doesn’t mean anything and unless we know we can get something on him when we arrest him, we would simply be letting him know we are looking at him. If he’s our man, then it’ll only make him harder to catch in the future.' Despite Shepherd’s offer to, 'Bring him in and bleed him,' The Duke had agreed with Carver. Letting him meet with Megan, like the others, offered the best chance he might show his hand – assuming he had one to show. Frustrated, Shepherd had spent the rest of the meeting twiddling a pencil around his fingers like some practising cheerleader, and drumming them on the table.

  Jess had been cornered by the team’s sometime ‘Profiler’, Doctor Ewan Cleeves. The visiting Professor in Forensic Psychology at Salford University, had seemed particularly interested in Megan Crane and was eager to hear more. Cleeves showed up now and again to offer what ‘insights’ he could into those the enquiry considered, ‘of interest’. Like The Duke, Carver’s expectations of what Cleeves could bring to the team weren’t high. So far he hadn’t disappointed. He’d judged Cleeves’s analysis of Cosworth as particularly bland, with nothing in it he couldn’t have come up with himself. To Carver it was just another nail in the coffin of the much-hyped role of the criminal profiler people read about in books or see on TV. That said, Carver never ruled anything out. If Cleeves came up with something that sounded in any way promising, he’d be more than happy to run with it. He’d just be surprised was all.