Last Gasp

by Robert F Barker

  The walls were mainly bare brick now, though some areas still showed the original reddy-brown brick-paint that had once covered them. The room itself was simply furnished. In the far corner was a toilet, a sink and, next to it, a plain wooden table. In the middle of the floor, was an iron bed with a bare mattress. On it, a figure - a man - lay spread-eagled, wrists and ankles shackled to the corners. A grey, wool blanket covered his torso down to his knees. His head was sheathed in a leather hood. A cloth gag was stuffed in his mouth, held in place by a leather strap. Some light must have penetrated through because as Megan stepped forward, the man responded, pulling at his shackles and grunting through his gag. The bed springs creaked, loudly.

  Megan stood just inside the doorway for several seconds, before approaching to stand looking down at him. Reaching out, she took hold of the blanket and, in one swift motion, flung it away. The man jerked, as if he had been struck with a crop. It brought a half-smile to Megan’s lips. Bending down, she undid the hood’s buckles and slipped it off.

  The strip-light was directly above. He squinted in pain, turning his head from side to side as he pulled at his shackles. Eventually, slowly, as his eyes adjusted, his struggles calmed and he became still, though breathing heavily, cheeks blowing in and out. He gazed up at her, still squinting until eventually his eyes focused enough for him to realise who - what - he was seeing. He froze, and stopped struggling.

  Through all this Megan Cane stood, still and silent. After a further minute’s silence, she lowered herself to sit next to him on the bed. Reaching over, she brushed a stray lock of hair back off his forehead, the way a mother might tend a sick child. And in a voice that was similarly soothing, she said, ‘Now then William Cosworth, you and I have a lot to talk about.’

  Chapter 49

  Carver was snaking his way towards Schiphol Airport’s passport control when his mobile rang. Checking the screen, he saw it was Jess.

  ‘I’ve just landed. What’s up?’

  ‘Alec’s just rung me. Thought you’d want to know. They’ve found Cosworth’s last girlfriend, the one called Petra. He and Gary are with her now. Apparently she’s saying some interesting things about her ex.’

  ‘About the murders?’

  ‘She’s not fingering him for them, yet. But she’s confirming he’s big into SM and gets off on frightening women. He likes the rough stuff. Used to slap her around a lot. She’s got a habit and only put up with it ‘cause he kept her supplied.’

  ‘So why’d she leave?’

  ‘It’s not clear yet if she did, or whether he kicked her out. Bit of both maybe.’

  ‘Okay. Let me know if she comes up with anything interesting.’

  ‘She has mentioned one thing.’

  ‘Go on.’

  ‘It seems he’s obsessed with taking a particular photograph. Something he calls, ‘The Perfect Picture’. She says she doesn’t know what it is, but it’s definitely fetish. He keeps trying it on different models, but reckons he hasn’t found the right one yet.’

  ‘Dead models or live ones?’

  ‘She’s not said.’

  ‘Hmm... Did he try it on her?’

  ‘No. She’s too skinny, apparently. Seems he likes curvy women.’

  Jesus Christ. ‘Well that would cover our victims, I suppose?’

  ‘I’d say so.’

  ‘Anything else?’

  ‘Not yet. I’ll keep you posted.’ About to ring off, she added, ‘And Jamie?’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Behave yourself. You know what they say about Amsterdam?’

  ‘What’s that?’

  But she was gone.

  He put his phone away just as he reached the control booths. He looked for the line with mostly UK Passports and a minute later was nodded through. On the other side he scouted around. Over by the exit from the baggage area, under the ‘Nothing To Declare’ sign, a shaven-headed man in a dark suit was waving. Carver headed over. As he neared, the man thrust out a hand which Carver took. It felt like a vice. The man followed it up with an amiable hug.

  ‘Good to see you again, Jamie. Good flight?’

  ‘Not bad, Erik. Nice to see you to. Thanks for meeting me.’

  ‘Better than sitting round a couple of days while you try and find your way out, I thought.’

  ‘As I remember, it was you went missing at Heathrow that time.’

  ‘That was because of the shit way you English run your airports. Here, we don’t have those problems.’

  ‘Right. Well let’s see how long it takes you to get us to a decent bar. I need a drink.’

  ‘Don’t worry, our table is already booked.

  Taking Carver’s carry-case, Erik Van-Tulp, Head of the Vice Division of the Politie Amsterdam, marched them to the nearest exit onto the Plaza. His car was right outside, parked on the yellow-hash markings. A young woman in the bright green uniform of the Airport Police was making sure it wasn’t about to be towed away. As they got in, Erik called to her in Dutch and winked. Carver thought the smile she flashed back was more than a simple, ‘Thank you,’ from Erik would have warranted.

  The Dutchman checked once over his shoulder, then swung out to join the never-ending stream of traffic, ignoring the loud horn blast behind. Carver settled back. The guidebooks put the city thirty minutes away by car. Remembering Erik’s driving and disdain for parking restrictions, he expected he would have a glass in his hand sooner than that. Over the next few minutes the man Carver had first met on a European Crime Investigators’ Course several years before took a series of calls on his mobile whilst also concentrating on getting them out onto the A4 without hitting anything. Carver used the time to reflect on Jess’s call. Something she’d said had resonated with him, but he wasn’t sure what. He groped for it, running back over the brief conversation. Then it came. Cosworth’s obsession. ‘The Perfect Picture.’ Now where had he heard that phrase before? As he mused on it, his thoughts returned to where they’d been as his plane had landed.

  He had no idea how long he’d be away. He hoped it wouldn’t be more than a couple of days. There was stuff he needed to sort out. His first priority was Rosanna. When she’d dropped him off at the airport, he’d tried to reassure her, telling her that things would be coming to an end soon, that once he was back and Cosworth was in custody things would be as they had been. She made out like she believed him, though he knew better. As he’d waited in the departure lounge, staring into his Macallan, he’d made a decision. As soon as work and her engagements allowed for it, he would take her away somewhere. They needed to spend time together without the telephone ringing, without him having to leap out of bed in the middle of the night to attend some bizarre murder scene. ‘And fuck Shepherd to,’ he murmured as his thoughts turned to the man who, next to Cosworth, was troubling him most.

  As if Rosanna, Cosworth and Shepherd weren’t enough, he was also starting to wonder about Jess. Nothing to do with her boyfriend problem. He’d seen signs before that. A subtle change in attitude, small alterations in her routines. It used to be she’d tell him her plans for what was left of the evening as they finished work; ‘Meeting the girls.’ ‘Speaking to my mum.’ ‘Catching up on Eastenders.’ She’d stopped doing that recently. It bothered him. An enquiry like Kerry could suck you in before you know it, especially if you were new at it. If anyone could testify to that, it was him. His concerns had crystallised when he’d bumped into Megan at her flat. He hoped to God he was wrong, that it wouldn’t happen to her the way it had him. He’d seen them growing close the past few weeks. And Jess’s trouble was, she was so assured of herself she wouldn’t even see the danger. What made it worse was the suspicion that he’d actually seen signs weeks ago and ignored them. Maybe even encouraged it, knowing they needed Megan Crane and that if one of them could get close it would work in their favour. He hoped he hadn’t miscalculated. He was still thinking on it when Erik finally put his phone away and turned to him.

  ‘So then, Jamie. Tell me all about this stra
nge case you are involved in. But first, I need to know. Are you and the beautiful Rosanna still…? He cast a leery glance at Carver. ‘Or has she dumped you? In which case I will need her address so I can show her what it is like to be with a real man.’

  Carver shook his head. Someone listening might have assumed Erik was taking the piss, the way policemen do. He knew better. Erik was married to a stunningly beautiful architect named Vanessa. She’d accompanied Erik on his last trip to the UK. The four of them had gone out together for a meal. The head cold that had been ruining Rosanna’s sleep for more than a week gave them a genuine excuse to turn down the other couple’s invitation to return to their hotel room, ‘for a nightcap.’ Carver had heard Erik speak of how he and Vanessa had an ‘open’ marriage. Carver still sometimes wondered where the ‘nightcap’ might have led.

  Without turning to look at the man he was hoping would help him find the woman he was looking for, Carver said, ‘Piss off and just drive.’

  Chapter 50

  Jess woke in the chair to the sound of her mobile ringing. Checking it, she saw it was the same number as earlier that evening. Then, she’d had neither the energy nor inclination to answer it. But with everything that was going on, she supposed she ought to. She brought the phone to her ear, and waited.

  '’Jess?’ Hello? Jess, are you there?'

  A woman’s voice. Familiar. Tearful?

  'Jess, it’s Rosanna. Please talk to me.'

  Rosanna?

  ‘I’m here Rosanna. What’s wrong?' She sounds worse than I feel.

  'I’m sorry if I’m- I don’t like to bother you, but-’

  ‘What is it, Rosanna?’

  ‘The last time we spoke. You told me to call, if I was worried about Jamie?'

  Jess remembered. The day he got the call from ‘Angie’. When Rosanna spoke of his nightmares.

  'When he left, he said something about you perhaps needing company?'

  ‘He did?’ The last thing I need right now is company. But the woman was clearly upset. She remembered his last words to her. Rosanna’s on her own... you’d find her understanding. Had he been trying to tell her something?

  'Did he give you my address?'

  'Yes.’

  'Bring a bag. You’re staying the night.'

  Chapter 51

  As Shepherd settled into the sofa that was as comfortable as he remembered, he wondered how many times Carver had sat there. Not that it mattered. Tonight it was his turn to make the play. About to place his mug down on the coffee table, he noticed its sparklingly clear surface. He hesitated, and cast about for something to put it on. But nothing was to hand and Megan didn’t move to offer him a coaster. He had no option but to cradle it in his hands. Whatever. He cleared his throat to speak. She beat him to it.

  'So what’s so important you needed to see me so urgently, Gary?'

  He wasn’t sure if there was a hint of mockery in her tone. If there was, he would soon change it. 'Jamie asked me to check on you while he was away. To make sure you weren’t worrying about Cosworth, or anything.'

  She looked surprised. 'That’s odd. I told Jamie I was fine. Especially with two policemen guarding me.' She turned, slightly, in the general direction of the front gates where the blue Mondeo hadn’t moved since she’d returned home.

  Shepherd shifted, beginning to feel slightly uncomfortable. 'Yes, well… He also wanted me to check in case you’ve remembered anything else about him. Anything he said, or…?’ Though he’d rehearsed the words several times, he was conscious that for some reason they suddenly seemed rather hollow.

  'Or, what? Something other than the twelve-page statement I gave to Jess you mean?' The corner of her mouth turned up just enough to register.

  'Umm… well you might have remembered something new since then.'

  ‘I might… But I haven’t.’ Her gaze settled on him. She waited.

  Shepherd felt himself beginning to redden - Damn the bitch - and sought refuge in his coffee. When he looked up, she was still waiting, only now there was no mistaking the thin smile. The two dark pools bored into him and the confidence that had driven him to come drained away as surely as if she’d pulled a plug. In that moment, as Shepherd rummaged for something – anything - he might use to justify his visit, he saw with absolute certainty that things were never going to go the way he’d imagined. Not for the first time, the compulsion that drove him to follow in the footsteps of the man he both revered and hated had led him to miscalculate. But even as the seeds of panic began to sow themselves, he remembered. At the end of the day, Megan Crane was a witness. And as ASIO to the Kerry Enquiry, he had every right to call on a witness. He relaxed. He even managed to return her smile, safe in in the knowledge that even if the imaginings that had brought him were based on a misconception – as it was beginning to look like they may have been- there was never any harm in trying.

  Chapter 52

  Jess glanced over at Rosanna, curled up on the couch in front of the fire, the empty wine glass dangling from her fingers. She wished sleep would come to her as easily, but their long conversation still resounded, pushing the prospect of sleep way out of reach.

  Nothing Rosanna had said had come as much of a surprise. She’d seen most of the changes Rosanna described in Jamie herself of late. The tension, the moodiness, the uncharacteristic reluctance to share his thoughts. But as Rosanna made clear, whatever was gnawing away at him had been there for weeks, rather than days. And it was getting worse. Not only were the two barely speaking, it seemed Jamie had told Rosanna remarkably little about the enquiry, even less about Megan Crane. Instead he’d been staying up late or coming home in the early hours, saying only that he’d been, 'working late.'

  Jess was sure that Rosanna’s worst fears - she didn’t actually voice them, but Jess could tell they were there – were groundless. But when she tried to reassure her, she struggled.

  Clearly, there were things Jamie preferred Rosanna not to know, both about Kerry and his work in general. She’d wondered how much she knew about his previous cases. Not much, it turned out. She worried that if she said the wrong thing, she might reveal something he wanted kept locked away, perhaps for good reason. Even so, there were things she thought Rosanna could know that might help. Things such as that the Kerry murders were not, 'just another series of murders,' as he’d said, but involved bizarre sexual practices most people would find disturbing. And that Megan Crane - Rosanna had heard the name but little else - knew about such things and was working with them to help catch the killer. But as Rosanna pressed her, again, about, ‘This Megan Crane,’ Jess realised she was leaving bits out. Bits she felt she couldn’t talk about without giving the wrong impression. Such as Megan’s ability to draw people in, to ensnare them. She still wasn’t sure why she hadn’t actually been more open about her being a dominatrix. Presumably Rosanna would have guessed as much - wouldn’t she? But it was when Jess referred back to the Hart case that she slipped up and mentioned Angie.

  'Angie?' Rosanna said.

  Jess kicked herself. Trying to explain about Megan had been bad enough. She tried her best.

  'He has seen this Angie recently,' Rosanna said when Jess finished. It was a statement, not a question.

  Jess didn’t know how she knew, but put it down to a worried lover’s intuition.

  'The day I phoned you,' she said. 'But I was there when he took her call. I’m sure he hadn’t heard from her in a long time.' But she couldn’t say why he’d had to drop everything to rush off and see her.

  Which was where it all broke down.

  For all that Jess tried to reassure Rosanna - putting Jamie’s behaviour down to the pressures of the investigation - there was a gap in her knowledge. Eventually she ran out of things to say, at least in terms Rosanna might understand.

  They sat in silence for a while, then Rosanna reached out and squeezed Jess’s hand.

  'Thank you,' she said. A couple of minutes later she added, 'I’m sorry, Jess.'

  Jess wasn’t su
re what she meant but when she turned to ask, Rosanna was asleep. After staring into the flames for a long time, Jess decided. There were questions Rosanna had raised for which she had no answers. But she knew where she might find some.

  Detective Constable Tony Turner roused himself as the sound of a car engine firing up echoed down the drive. He looked up towards the house. Shepherd’s Saab was turning round, making ready to leave. He nudged the man dozing next to him. 'Dan. Wake up. He’s off.'

  Dan Hewitt jerked himself upright and shook himself awake. The last thing they needed was for Shepherd to catch them sleeping on the job. He checked the time. ‘Quarter-past two? Fuck me.’ The Saab started down towards them. 'Five hours? He’s had a good fucking night.'

  As the Saab stopped just before the gate, the detectives shielded their eyes from the glare of its headlights but waved to signal they were alert and awake. The Saab’s lights flashed an acknowledging signal, then he was through the gates and heading down the private track that led to the main road through the village. As the tail-lights disappeared they both turned to look back up at the house. All was in darkness.

  'That’s a tenner,' Tony said, holding out a hand.

  Dan shook his head, ruefully, and rummaged in his wallet.

  'All I can say is, she’s gone right down in my estimation. I didn’t think she’d give him the time of fucking day. Just goes to show doesn’t it?' He passed the note to his partner, took a last look up at the house, then settled back in his seat and closed his eyes.