Last Gasp

by Robert F Barker

  'I thought the SU had all they needed, but you can have one of these.' She handed it to him. As he took it, she saw his eyes narrow, suspicious now. 'Anything else, sir?' Ready in case of another excuse, she gave up trying to hide her scepticism.

  Trapped, he became surly. 'No. Thanks.'

  He gave her a vindictive stare then, with one last glance at the drawer next to her, left the office.

  Watching from the doorway, she waited until he’d disappeared round the corner towards the MIR, before returning back inside.

  As expected, she found the drawer unlocked, a dent in the wood above the lock. He must have used a knife or something similar. Right on top was the folder. Across the front in Carver’s distinctive scrawl were the words, 'Megan Crane – Personal'. Pulling it out, she placed it on the desk, opened it.

  The A4-size photograph stared out at her. He hadn’t had time to put it back in the envelope Carver had glued to the file’s inside back cover where it would be safe from prying eyes. It wasn’t the photograph she’d just given Shepherd. This was a portrait. One of Megan’s. The one she sometimes sent to her friends, to remind them of who, and what, she was.

  It showed her posing, dramatically, in full dominatrix mode, much as she’d revealed herself to Jess that night. She was made up in the glossy, movie-star way Jess was now familiar with and was wielding a bullwhip, the end of which lay in coils at her feet. Looking directly into camera, her expression was stern. It was a powerful image, and one that for Jess, stirred memories.

  Megan had given them the picture during one of their meetings. Jess hadn’t seen it since. Now, alone in Jamie’s office, wondering about Shepherd’s motivations, it raised in her a strange mix of emotions. Discomfort. Fear. Awe. Even some excitement. She wasn’t sure whether the discomfort related to the connotations within the picture itself, or other feelings which she didn’t want to analyse too closely. She thrust it back in its envelope.

  As she did, she noticed a sheet of paper which also looked like it had been disturbed. She remembered the note Shepherd had made. Pulling it out, she recognised the list of names, addresses and telephone numbers - Megan’s and some of her contacts. Towards the bottom, Jamie had added other names and numbers, which meant nothing to her.

  'Now then Mr-DCI-Gary-Shepherd. Just who were you so interested in?'

  Chapter 31

  William Cosworth studied the photographs spread out on the table and congratulated himself. These were much better. It was the lighting that made the difference, he thought. But then, with each shoot he was gaining greater insight into what he was aiming for. He was definitely improving.

  'Pour me a drink babe,' he called out, then tutted at his forgetfulness. Petra was gone of course, never to return. It hadn’t been so hard after all.

  But it was a shame he hadn’t been able to talk Lisa round yet. She had balked when he first approached her, but he was sure she would come good, eventually.

  He focused on the photograph showing the side profile. The camera hadn’t quite picked up the finer detail of the rope-work, and the contrast with the darker flesh tones wasn’t what he’d been looking for. He wasn’t used to his new Canon yet, but was resisting the temptation to give up and go back to the Olympus. The technology changed so quickly these days, and he needed to keep up with it. He made a mental note to do some test shoots before his next assignment. Thoughts of his project aroused him and he popped another pink. He didn’t want to crash too soon. He dropped into the couch, thoughts drifting to what lay ahead.

  He was looking forward to meeting ‘Mistress Megan’ with growing excitement. From her photograph, the one he’d framed and placed on the mantelpiece, she certainly looked the part, even more so than the others. He was already energized at the prospect of what might be – provided he could get her to play ball.

  He thought about how he would approach it. It was so important to get things right at the outset. If you fluffed it, women like her rarely gave you a second chance, not willingly at any rate. It was easy to say the wrong thing or give the wrong impression and, considering how they offered themselves, they were so choosy. He wondered, sometimes, if the man, or woman, they were looking for really existed, or whether they were as prone to fantasy as the people they met with. Still, he hadn’t done badly so far.

  Her letter still lay on the table next to the sofa and he reached for it. He brought it to his face, breathing in her delicate traces and the hint of the fragrance he had – after much searching –finally identified. He closed his eyes. The photograph and the minute but tangible traces in the paper, where all he needed to imagine her there, right now, acting out the role he’d assigned to her.

  He imagined how things would be. The look on her face when she learned of his ambitions. But he was sure that, as long as he dealt the cards right, she would play along. After all, the others had.

  Chapter 32

  By the time Carver made it to Shepherd’s office, his fellow ASIO was in full flow. When he’d taken his colleague’s call summoning him to a meeting to hear, ‘something important,’ Carver was in the middle of briefing Mike Frayne on the following night’s op. Clearly, Shepherd hadn’t felt inclined to wait.

  Shepherd was stood facing The Duke, Jess, Cleeves and Alec Duncan who were fanned out before him on chairs, as if they were a judging panel. At the back were two of his team, DS Tony Taylor and DC Colin Webster. Shepherd was holding up a couple of items for his audience’s inspection. In his right hand, open at the relevant page, was the edition of ‘Skin Tight’ magazine containing the photo-shoot that seemed to presage the murders. In his left, was a head-and-shoulders photograph of an attractive young woman with mousey-blonde hair. Artfully-lit, and with its soft-focus and careful framing, it was the sort of thing an aspiring model might tout around agencies. As Carver entered, Shepherd barely paused in his delivery.

  ‘…. thanks to excellent work by Tony and Colin-’ He motioned to the two men at the rear. ‘We’ve identified her as a Dutch girl by the name of Katelijne Mertens. She came to Manchester to do some modelling and from there got into glamour work, eventually progressing into porn. By the time she did these-’ He tapped the photos with a finger. ‘-She was already established around the fetish scene. You can still find some of her stuff on the usual porn sites.’

  Carver thought about interrupting to ask what they were, but decided against.

  ‘A year or so after this shoot she dropped off the scene altogether. We think she moved back to Holland but that’s not confirmed yet. Tony and Colin are still working to track her down, but no luck so far.’

  The Duke picked it up. ‘I take it you’ve not raised an enquiry with the local police over there yet?’

  Shepherd shook his head. ‘I thought we should take stock before we do anything else. Which is why I called you all here.’

  The Duke nodded. ‘Good. Well done Gary, and you Tony and Colin.’ He turned to Carver. ‘What do you think?’

  ‘If we can’t trace her here, Holland’s the next logical step. But someone needs to get over there. I can’t imagine the Dutch police putting too much effort into tracing a former porn model.

  ‘Agreed. Gary, if we need to do that it’ll be you and Tony. Sorry Colin.’

  The lowest ranked man in the room hid his disappointment. ‘No probs Boss.’

  ‘When’s the Crane woman meeting Cosworth?’

  ‘Tomorrow night,’ Carver said.

  ‘Okay. Let’s get that out of the way, then see where we are.’

  Later, alone together in Carver’s office, Jess pinned him with a look. ‘Do you think the girl will take us anywhere, assuming we find her?’

  Carver returned her stare. ‘I’d like to have the option of finding out.’

  ‘I thought you didn’t think much of the Cosworth connection?’

  ‘It’s Cosworth himself I’m not sure of. He may treat women like shit, but I just don’t see him as a killer. That said, there’s no denying those photos are damned close. If there is
a connection, the girl may point us to it.’

  Jess nodded, changed the subject. ‘So, how about tomorrow night?’

  ‘What about it?’

  ‘Are you- Are we, ready for it?’

  Carver’s response was a long time coming and his face was deadly serious when he said, ‘I hope to God we are.’

  The car park opposite the Museum Street exit from Warrington Police Station is unlit. The light from the street lamps around its perimeter doesn’t reach its centre, which remains a dark pool. In the middle of that pool and square on to the station’s gates, a figure in black-leathers and full-face helmet was sitting astride a Yamaha 250cc motorcycle, arms folded, waiting.

  Shortly after nine-thirty a black, VW Golf poked its nose out of the gates and stopped as the driver checked right, down Museum Street. The road clear, it accelerated, left, and out. At the same time, the motorcyclist pressed the machine’s ignition, gunned the throttle and headed for the exit. By the time the Golf paused at the junction with Parker Street, making ready to hang another left down towards Bridge Foot, and on out of town, the Yamaha was in the ideal follow position, ten yards behind. From there the rider could hang back or advance, as traffic and circumstances dictated until such time as the Golf’s sole occupant reached his final destination for the evening. Home.

  Chapter 33

  Carver was becoming increasingly irritated. He tried to show it by letting out a heavy sigh. It didn’t work. Shepherd carried on staring across at the table where Megan Crane and William Cosworth appeared to be enjoying each other’s company. Carver exchanged a glanced with Jess. She merely raised an eyebrow that said, I’m the junior. He’s down to you.

  ‘Gary.’ Carver said it low but sharp, and this time it had the desired effect. Shepherd snapped his head round, but avoided Carver’s gaze. Carver sighed again.

  It was the third - or was it fourth? - time he’d caught Shepherd breaking the most basic rule of surveillance. Don’t stare. Okay, Shepherd’s accelerated career track meant his ‘Agreed Training Priorities’, wouldn’t have included formal Surveillance Training. But static observation isn’t rocket science. Jess wasn’t trained either, but she was managing to make it look like her attention was on her male companions. Not for the first time, Carver wondered if Shepherd’s interest was focused on his favoured suspect, or his date.

  As with the previous meetings, Megan looked stunning, though tonight’s look – hair up in a classy chignon - was one Carver hadn’t seen before. The clinging, cream jersey-dress certainly showed off her figure as well as the black numbers she’d worn previously. Satisfied Shepherd’s attention was back where it was supposed to be, Carver tuned back in to the conversation in his ear.

  Despite Megan’s attempts to draw him out, Cosworth was still downplaying his fashion-photography interests. Earlier, Carver was surprised to hear Cosworth pass up the opportunity to mention his fetish-work for magazines such as SkinTight. Under the circumstances he’d have thought it an advantage. But then he wasn’t the one being weighed by an experienced dominatrix as a prospective play-partner. More surprising, and strangely disconcerting, was the fact that Cosworth was coming across as both articulate, and charming, not at all the drug-fuelled rapist his background suggested. But then, Carver thought, psychotics often present as rational, caring even. He sent out a mental warning. Be careful with this guy Megan.

  From the moment they’d witnessed her sashay up to Cosworth in the Saloon Bar and introduce herself, Cosworth had wrong-footed them. Used to the company of beautiful women, he’d maintained his cool. He even gained brownie points when he presented her with the gift-wrapped package which she opened as he ordered her drink. 'Shalimar!' she exclaimed, eyeing the blue, flower-stem bottle with what seemed genuine delight. 'How ever did you know?' He didn’t answer, but tapped the side of his nose, mysteriously. Jess’s face said that even she was impressed. Chalk one up to Cosworth.

  Right now they were talking food, favourite eating places and such. Still at the, ‘getting to know each other stage’, they weren’t yet ready to explore the matters that had brought them together. Bored by the slow progress, Carver settled back and put his trust in his subconscious telling him when they were. In the meantime, he focused on catching Shepherd out again.

  Across the table, Jess was having trouble deciding what to attend to most. Megan and Cosworth were her main priority, obviously. But the interplay between Carver and Shepherd was every bit as interesting. Carver was clearly irked by Shepherd’s lack of guile. Even she was galled that someone marked as a future Chief Officer could be so lacking in basic operational nouse. As bad, if not worse, was the look that came into Shepherd face each time his gaze slipped back to the table across the room. She was sure it wasn’t Cosworth who was triggering it. It confirmed the thoughts she’d been having about him ever since that night he’d tried to lure her into his camp. ‘Creepy’ didn’t do it justice. But something about Carver’s behaviour also bothered her, though she couldn’t put a finger on it. Certainly, the ‘edginess’ that had been growing in him the past weeks was as noticeable as ever. And the way he seemed discomfited each time he caught Shepherd staring, put her in mind of an old boyfriend who hated other men looking at her. She wondered if maybe he was finally responding to her news about Shepherd’s late-night snooping, though why he would wait so long to let it show was beyond her. The day after the incident, she’d tried several times to get him to show concern – interest even – and was surprised when he contented himself with a bemused rub of the chin, an ambiguous narrowing of his dark eyes. He wouldn’t even speculate as to what Shepherd might have been up to. 'Who knows?' he’d said. 'Gary can be a strange sort of guy sometimes.' He said much the same about you once, she’d thought, before giving up, frustrated and not a little annoyed that she had put her head above the parapet to confront Shepherd - and he didn’t seem to give a hoot.

  What made it worse was having to spend the evening in Shepherd’s company. But as Carver had pointed out, Cosworth was Shepherd’s man. It was only right he should be part of the eye-ball team. As she continued to switch her focus between the two men and the table across the room, Jess wondered where the Hell the night’s events would take them.

  Carver had to wait until coffees arrived before talk turned, finally, to what they were waiting for. Megan began by asking how and when Cosworth first became interested in kink. He said it was through a photographer friend, early in his career. ‘Things just seemed to develop from there.’ Despite the vague answer Megan nodded, as if it was all she needed. When he asked the same, she spoke, equally vaguely, of an experienced, ‘former partner’ who had led her into it. After skirting round the subject a few minutes more, Megan said. ‘Right William. This has all been very nice, but I think it’s time we got down to business.’ Cosworth nodded and sat forward, readying himself for the expected interrogation. ‘But before we do, I need to freshen up.’ She rooted in her bag hanging over the back of her chair and took out a small pouch. ‘Excuse me a moment.’

  Rising, she threw a smile at the young waiter whose eyes had hardly left her all evening and who scooted over to take her chair, before making her way to the Ladies at the back of the restaurant. Cosworth leaned to his left so he could follow her progress. There was the sound of doors opening, the clack of shoes on tile, another door banged, then silence. Carver looked across at Jess.

  She rolled her eyes. 'She’s hardly going to let you listen to her pee is she?'

  By now Megan was familiar enough with how the mic worked - tonight it was fitted into her brooch - she no longer needed Jess’s help to switch it on and off. Proceedings interrupted, they relaxed. But only for a moment.

  'What’s he doing?' Jess said.

  Carver looked up in time to see Cosworth unhook Megan’s bag from the back of her chair. He glanced towards the Ladies, before starting to rummage through it.

  'Oh-Oh!' Carver said. A moment later he was dismayed to see him take out a piece of paper. Checking the toilets a
gain, Cosworth took out his mobile and took a snap of it. Putting the item back he returned the bag to the chair.

  Carver shot Jess a glance. 'I hope to God that wasn’t her address.’ Jess grimaced. Neither of them had thought to check her bag.

  A moment later, Megan appeared and re-joined Cosworth. As she sat down she mouthed something to him. They all groaned.

  ‘She’s forgotten to turn her mic back on,’ Jess said.

  Carver spoke urgently, into the mic in his sleeve. 'Alec? Her mic’s off. Can you alert her?'

  Up in the Saloon Bar, Alec Duncan, the backup-eyeball, appeared at the railing. Looking down on the diners he said, 'I’ll try, but she won’t be able to do it at the table without making it obvious.'

  Though the mic was in the brooch, the transmitter and switch was somewhere under her dress.

  A couple of minutes later, Alec sauntered into view, making towards their table as he pretended to be talking on his mobile. As he approached, the pair were deep in conversation. Neither marked him, but once he was passed and Cosworth’s back was to him, he lingered, trying to attract her attention, at the same time tapping a finger in his ear. The young couple at the nearest table began giving him strange looks. Eventually Megan glanced up. She stared at Alec for several seconds while managing to not register anything, before snapping her attention back to Cosworth, who remained oblivious.

  A few minutes later, responding to something Cosworth said, Megan brushed a hand against a wine glass, knocking it over and spilling its pale contents over the table and her dress. Full of apologies, she retreated to the ladies’ once more.