Last Gasp

by Robert F Barker

  'At least she’s taking her bag with her this time,' Jess said.

  A minute later, the low hum that kicked in told them the mic was back on.

  'Sorry about that,' Megan whispered.

  Relieved, they watched her return to the table.

  'I’m sorry William. Now, where were we?'

  He waited while she settled then said, 'You were about to tell me if you would see me again.'

  Megan barely hesitated. 'I don’t usually make decisions on a first meeting, but…' She paused. 'But I sense we are on the same wavelength and my instincts are telling me you are the sort of person I can trust. So, yes, I will allow you to see me.'

  Carver tensed as Jess threw him a startled look. What had they missed?

  Shepherd snapped his head up, 'This is all a bit quick isn’t it?'

  Concerned, Carver kept his head bowed as he stared across, Shepherd’s discretions of earlier now forgotten. As with the others, the plan had been that Megan would use delaying tactics before agreeing to any meeting.

  Megan continued. 'Apart from what you’ve already told me, William, what other sorts of things interest you?'

  Over the next half hour the detectives listened, mostly in silence, as Cosworth outlined the various penchants for humiliation, restraint and forced submission that fuelled his imagination - particularly his fervent wish to be verbally and physically chastised by a cruel schoolmistress. The images it conjured made Carver squirm inside - for several reasons. Eventually he came to the end of his fantastical musings. He sat back in his chair, waiting.

  'That’s a very detailed list,' Megan said. 'And I don’t think it would be a problem. Just one thing. How would you feel about restraining your Mistress, if I ordered you to?'

  'If that was your requirement, then so be it.' His voice gave nothing away and Carver wished he had a clearer view of his face. Megan nodded, slowly, as if contemplating her next move.

  'Right then, William. I think we should leave it there for now. I’ll be in touch regarding our next meeting. But when we meet again you will refer to me only as, Mistress, unless I direct otherwise, and you will speak only when spoken to. Do you understand?'

  He bowed his head. 'Yes, Mistress.'

  Chapter 34

  Jess could see that Carver was as puzzled as her.

  'I still don’t understand why you agreed to see him again instead of putting him off,' he said.

  They were back in The Grosvenor’s otherwise deserted Arkle Lounge. Earlier, Megan had given her first impressions of Cosworth.

  'He seemed quite nice, on the surface,' she’d said, but then went on to describe her feeling that there was, 'Something underneath. Something a bit, well, weird.'

  'You can say that again,' Shepherd huffed. It prompted a silence that was heavy with censure. He hadn’t spoken since. Jess took pleasure in his discomfort, remembering her own gaff during that early meeting in Megan’s lounge at the Poplars. Now she waited to hear what lay behind Megan’s hasty-seeming decision to grant Cosworth an ‘audience’.

  'Well, under the circumstances I thought it was what you would have wanted. I just went for it.'

  Carver turned to Jess. She was none the wiser.

  'Sorry, I’m not with you. What circumstances?'

  'You know. That business about him wanting to worship his Mistress. Praying to her like a goddess, and all that. You’ve not told me everything about these murders but I had the feeling it might be significant and-.' She stopped. The three detectives were staring at her. 'What?' Her brow creased into a frown, then suddenly her hand went to her mouth and her eyes widened.

  'You missed it. It was when the microphone was off. Oh God, I thought you were all taking it rather calmly.' She began to redden.

  Carver leaned forward. 'Just what, exactly, did he say?'

  She took a deep breath. 'When I came back from the ladies, the first time, he said something about how people were looking at me, reverently, the way they would a Goddess. He said that worshipping a woman as a Goddess was one of his favourite fantasies. That he wanted to be forced to worship her, to pray to her.' She paused to look at each of them in turn, conscious of the effect her words were having. 'Everyone talks about this Worshipper thing and I thought you’d want to check it out sooner rather than later. So I agreed to a meeting. Did I do wrong?' She read their faces, and brightened. 'It means something doesn’t it? I can tell.'

  Carver remained non-committal. 'Anything else?'

  Jess could see she was excited now, her usual icy calm temporarily suspended. Megan continued.

  'He talked about kneeling in front of a woman and praying for her soul. Or was it his soul? I’m sorry, I’m not sure now. Anyway, I’ve known men want to worship their Mistress, but not in the literal sense. So tell me. Is it important?'

  Jess waited for Carver. He was staring into space, lost in thought. Megan was still animated, waiting for a response. But Shepherd could contain himself no longer.

  Jumping up off the sofa, he said, ‘I’ll say it’s important.’ He looked like he was in a rush to go somewhere.

  Carver came to. 'Gary, we-.'

  'We ought to call The Duke. Let him know. This is pretty near the mark Jamie. SU can pick Cosworth up when he gets home.' He reached into his jacket for his mobile.

  Carver tried again. 'Just-'

  'I’ll call Mike Frayne and see where they are. If Jess can get Megan’s statement, we’ll-.’

  'HANG ON GARY.'

  Carver’s words echoed around the room. Through in reception, the night-clerk looked up, bored, before going back to whatever she’d been doing.

  Shepherd stopped, mobile in hand. When Carver spoke again his words were pointed. 'It may be significant, but on its own it’s not enough to tie him to anything. We’ll speak to The Duke in the morning. But for the time being, things stay as they are.'

  For several seconds the two men glared at each other. Then Shepherd snapped the cover back on his phone, and put it away. He sat down again, stony-faced.

  But Megan had read the exchange. 'Is there something about this man I ought to know Jamie?'

  Carver breathed a sigh and shot another annoyed glance at Shepherd.

  'Some of the things you describe ring some bells. They may mean something, or they might not. Either way, we still need to take a closer look.' He turned back to her. 'There’s something else.' She gave a quizzical look. 'May I see your bag?'

  'My bag?’ She reached out to where it lay on the cushion next to her. ‘Certainly, but what’s my bag got to do with anything?'

  'Would you mind?' Carver held out a hand. She gave it to him and he passed it across to Jess. She delved into it and pulled out an envelope bearing a label showing Megan’s address. Carver clicked his tongue.

  'It’s the envelope from 'DOM!' Megan said. 'The one his letter came in. I brought it just in case. Is there a problem?'

  'He photographed your address,' Jess said. 'While you were in the Ladies.'

  She paled, then closed her eyes, pummelling a fist into her thigh. 'Stupid, stupid, stupid. What was I thinking? Why didn’t I take the damn thing with me?'

  'As of now, we’re putting you under full surveillance,' Carver said. His face was set.

  Her composure returned instantly. 'You can’t do that Jamie.' She was somewhere between imploring and defiant. 'You know I could never allow it.'

  Their gazes met and held. So far, Megan had always dismissed suggestions she might need guarding. Her friends would never forgive her if she let them be spied on.

  Jess waited. So did Shepherd. Eventually Carver appeared to let go. It had been a long day.

  'There may be other options. We’ll talk about it tomorrow.'

  But Shepherd seemed to feel the need to impose himself.

  'I don’t think you’ve got any choice Megan. Unless you want to risk an uninvited visitor.'

  Jess saw the exasperated look that came into Carver’s face. They’d learned long ago that trying to tell Megan Crane to do or
not do something was guaranteed to raise the drawbridge. Megan started to colour. Carver saw it.

  'Let’s not scare the lady, Gary. There could be any number of reasons why he wants her address. In any case, if he and Megan are to meet, she’ll have to give it him sometime.'

  As she witnessed the confrontation, Jess mused on the change in Carver’s attitude towards the woman. Lady, no less. They’d come a long way since their first meeting. But if there was an innocent explanation for Cosworth stealing her address, Jess couldn’t think of it.

  Carver stood up, and stretched, signalling ‘de-brief over’. He looked down at Shepherd.

  'There’re a couple of things we need to talk over Gary. If you’ll excuse us, ladies.' He set off towards the lounge-bar.

  Sullen, Shepherd took the hint. He drained his brandy and, rising to his feet, gave the women a piercing look. 'Goodnight. Ladies.' He followed after Carver.

  As he rounded the corner, Megan turned to Jess. The flashing eyes showed that any concerns she may have been having over Cosworth having her address were forgotten. At least for now.

  'Well, wasn’t that exciting? Jamie and Gary do seem to have an interesting relationship.' She patted the cushion next to her. 'Sit here, Jess, and tell me what that was all about.'

  Jess rolled her eyes. Here we go again. But she recognised the warm feeling of intimacy that comes when friends share secrets.

  Chapter 35

  The Duke shuffled the papers between his spade-like hands, regarding them the way he might if they’d been written in Greek. After several moments he shook his head, let the pages fall to the desk and looked up to meet the gaze of the waiting academic. 'Let me get this straight. You’re saying he’s working towards something specific?'

  Ewan Cleeves tapped the papers in his lap and nodded. 'It’s all in my updated profile, Chief Superintendent.'

  As Carver flicked through his copy, he caught the Duke’s glance. He’d been late joining them due to yet another planning meeting with Jess and Megan. He was still catching up.

  'Profiles do nothing for me,’ The Duke said. ‘Talk me through it. Keep it simple.'

  Cleeves smiled, weakly, as if he didn’t mind at all having to spell out in words of two syllables, what had taken him three days to put into a precisely-worded, scientific analysis.

  'It’s to do with the way the victims are restrained. With each murder the arrangement of knots and ropes, the positioning of body, arms and hands become more precise. More deliberate. It’s as if the killer is working towards replicating a specific image or scene.'

  Carver looked up. 'For example?'

  'You see it with Corinne Anderson,' Cleeves said. 'When he bound her arms he used more rope than previously, and applied it more carefully so they would stay in position. And the pathologist’s report shows that at some stage he strapped her forehead to the post to hold her steady.'

  'The significance being?' The Duke said.

  'That the killer’s motivation is obsessive, driven by something in his subconscious. I would postulate something in his past, an event, perhaps an image that has great significance. Subconsciously, he believes that by re-creating that experience, it will exorcise the forces that are driving him.'

  Carver recalled what Megan had said about Cosworth’s interest in praying to his goddess.

  'What about her little fingers?' The Duke said.

  Cleeves sat forward. 'Now that’s interesting. They weren’t glued in position. I believe that if the killer had folded them under, he would have done so. That he didn’t, suggests the victim did it herself.'

  'But we know from Jess’s enquiries, she wasn’t religious,' Carver said.

  'Precisely.' Cleeves said. He seemed to be enjoying leading his audience. Just like dealing with college students. 'Given that their position is far from natural, we could conclude-'

  But Carver had seen it. 'She was trying to tell us something-'

  '-About her killer,' Cleeves finished, almost triumphantly.

  For several minutes they reflected on what message Corinne Anderson might have been trying to convey as her life leaked away. But eventually, they agreed that without further information they could only speculate. The Duke moved them on.

  'So what happens when this nutcase completes his ‘picture’ or whatever it is?'

  'Killers of this sort don’t usually stop, Chief Superintendent,' Cleeves said. 'They get a taste for it. Most likely he will move onto something else.'

  The Duke’s explosion was instantaneous. 'SOMETHING ELSE? Like what? You mean a different method? Targeting other women?'

  Cleeves rocked back. Clearly he hadn’t anticipated The Duke’s reaction.

  'Christ, how would we know it was him? We’d be back to square one with no way of knowing what he might do next.'

  By now Carver had speed-read Cleeve’s profile. He didn’t want to waste time debating its limitations. 'That’s why we need to catch him quickly,' he said.

  A few minutes later, Cleeves left, taking his papers and slamming the door behind him. Carver suspected he wasn’t happy being the butt of The Duke’s grumpy reaction to his ‘analysis.’

  But once he was gone, The Duke seemed to calm, a little. He turned to Carver.

  'Where does it leave us?'

  'If Ewan’s right, and the worshipping thing isn’t just window dressing, then we need to dig deeper, try to work out what it’s about.' He gave The Duke a pointed look. 'We need to move up a gear, John. We need to trace the Dutch girl in Cosworth’s original photographs, and take a more in-depth look at Megan Crane’s contacts

  The Duke read his look. 'Staff?'

  'Two, maybe three more teams?'

  Carver wasn’t hopeful. For weeks he’d been fielding questions from hard-pressed Divisional Commanders asking how much longer their staff would remain locked into an enquiry that seemed to grow by the week.

  But The Duke didn’t hesitate. 'I’ll speak with the ACC this afternoon. You’ll have them by tomorrow.'

  Chapter 36

  The four-year old sat, cross-legged, in front of the television. He pressed the remote again. Nothing happened. He started to worry. It was time for Fleabits. He didn’t want to miss his favourite programme. He kept pressing the button and, without taking his eyes off the screen, leaned back, half-turning towards the kitchen behind him.

  'IT’S NOT WORKING MUMMY.'

  Around the door, a woman’s face appeared. Flushed and breathless, straying strands of dark hair, hung from the untidy bun pinned to the top of her head.

  'Wha’d you say sweetheart?'

  'The thingy’s not working again. Fleabits is on.'

  Anna Kirkham sighed as she propped the iron on its stand and moved the clothes basket aside so she could come through into the living room. She was only halfway through the ironing and hadn’t even thought about putting tea on yet. A couple of mothers had been late picking their kids up from the nursery, and it was gone four thirty before she and Debbie finally closed up. The drive home had been horrendous – Leeds United were playing an early evening game - and it was well after half-five by the time they got in. Now, to top it all, Jason was playing up.

  But it wasn’t his fault she reminded herself. He had a cold coming on and hadn’t slept well the night before. If she hadn’t had to open up the nursery she’d have kept him at home. She made up her mind to ring Debbie and tell her she would have to manage on her own tomorrow. One of the mums would volunteer to help out. Jason would be better off in bed. And a day off wouldn’t do her any harm.

  Reaching down, she took the control off her son and pressed the channel button. The irritating commercial for flavoured crisps, the one with the ridiculous genie, continued to blare out, and she remembered what the problem was. The control needed new batteries and had done for a week now. She must put a note on the fridge magnet. Stepping forward she reached under the TV, and pressed buttons on the decoder. Channels flashed across the screen. Eventually a large, fluffy blue animal, of what sort she was
never quite sure, appeared.

  The boy yelped. 'HOORAY. FLEABITS. Thank you Mummy.'

  At once, he was lost in the make-believe world of strange animals and even stranger robotic children. She looked at him, then back at the TV. She and the other mums thought the programme was a bit, well, weird. But the kids loved it.

  She smiled down at him, the harassed feeling banished, temporarily, by his childish joy. Leaning in, she hugged him to her - she was low on hugs today – and ran her fingers through his thatch of thick, black hair. But he pulled away from her, the wide eyes that were unusually dark in one so young, riveted to the screen.

  For several moments she regarded him through wistful eyes. A normal kid, watching TV, with his mum. A normal mum. A mum with ironing to do and tea to prepare. A working mum with a nursery to run. A mum who could still, when she put her mind to it, turn it on.

  But not for anyone anymore. Nowadays she was only interested in turning it on for one man. A man who was actually nice to her. A man who’d even stayed after finding out she had a four-year old son. A man with a steady job, who cared for her, and wanted to look after her. More importantly to look after Jason, as well. What was more, if she was reading the signs right, it looked like he might be planning to stay around more permanently in the future. Provided nothing scared him off.

  She didn’t dwell on the thought. She had known for months that she loved Rob and was sure he loved her too. He just needed a bit of help to realise it. The relationship was as normal as she had ever dreamed she could have. There was no reason to think it wouldn’t stay that way.

  She looked about her. The flat was on the small side, compared to what she’d once been used to, but she had made the most of it. And although it wasn’t fully paid for yet, it was hers. A real home. Though she knew it was silly after all this time she allowed herself a tiny feeling of self-congratulation, as she did now and then, over the way things had turned out. It could all have been so different. A moment of whimsy came over her and she gave the boy another hug and kissed him, hard, on the cheek.