by Jack Probyn
‘Bad. Bad things,’ Archie said, his voice quiet.
‘We own you. We own your area. But we don’t like it when you lie to us. We know you were scoring last night, and we know you had a piece of skirt with you. You don’t need to be embarrassed about it in front of us. We don’t mind. But if you want your continued supply – of both the pussy and the packet that it came in – you’ll do as we tell you.’ Drew made a slight nod to the finger Archie had been nibbling. ‘I’m curious… is that a symptom of the drugs, the disability or a nervous reflex?’
Archie observed his finger as though it wasn’t actually his – as if it was an inanimate object he’d picked up from the table.
‘Ouchie,’ he said. ‘You made me hurt myself.’
‘Not as much as we can do if you don’t listen to us. If you want your little friend to keep bringing his drugs round for you on your estate, then we’ll continue to make sure you’re well looked after, and that you get a competitive price – whether you’re on the outside or on the inside. Although, I heard you already get good rates given your circumstances.’
‘I… I… Why are you telling me this? What if I tell?’
Drew smirked. ‘We’re confident it won’t come to that. Besides, who are they going to believe? A disabled junky, or two esteemed police detectives who have contributed years of hard work and dedication to the service? I think I know the answer, don’t you, DC Garrison?’
‘I do,’ Garrison said, nodding.
‘Archie,’ Drew continued, pausing to swallow and clear his throat. ‘You see, our new relationship can be mutually beneficial.’
‘Explain,’ Archie said.
‘If you help us with our investigation, we can work something out for you. Discounted rates. A major stake in the operations. A higher position of power. Of course, those three tiers are heavily dependent on the work you do for us… should we require it.’
Archie kept his attention on Drew. ‘What do you need me to do?’
‘Nothing, for now. You’ll only be required if our investigation doesn’t make any progress.’
‘Fishing. Going fishing.’
‘You’ll be bait, yes,’ Garrison added. ‘We can either use you to take the rap or – and I’m assuming you’d prefer this route because the other one isn’t so inviting – you can find a suitable replacement. Someone who can take the fall for it instead. But that decision depends almost completely on us. So you’d better impress.’
‘And…’ Archie hesitated. ‘No. Say no. I refuse. I tell everyone. I tell the police… I tell Tanner!’
Another smirk grew on Drew’s face. He really was enjoying this. And he wanted it to continue. ‘You can try, but it wouldn’t be worth the time or the effort. DC Tanner is with us. You really think we’d have a member of our team that doesn’t follow the same path as us? Stupid.’
‘No. Say no,’ Archie repeated.
Drew leant back in his chair, crossing his arms. ‘Since we’ve been here, Archie, we’ve had a couple of our officers sneak into your home and find everything with your DNA on it. Clothing. Bath towel. Hairbrush. Toothbrush. I’m sure we’ll be able to find some semen deposits on your socks as well. All it takes for us is to be a little bit pissed off and we’ll plant that evidence all over Steven and Jessica Arnholt’s body. It won’t take much for us to persuade someone to re-examine the evidence, and… wait! What’s that? They’ve found something. Something they overlooked before. DNA implicating Archie Arnold at the crime scene during the time of the deceased’s murders? Wow, incredible. Miraculous. God bless modern science.’
Archie’s face contorted as he absorbed what was being said. He was fucked, and everyone in the room knew it. Drew had just delivered the final nail in the coffin. And it felt euphoric.
For a long while, Archie didn’t respond. And then, as Drew scowled at him, tears formed in his eyes and streamed down his face. Archie leant forward, resting his elbows on his knees, and began to weep loudly.
Drew didn’t want to stay and watch this bullshit; he rose out of his chair and slid it flush against the table.
‘Nice doing business with you, Archie,’ he said, moving to the door. ‘You can find your own way home.’
CHAPTER 18
CONGRATULATIONS
As soon as Jake returned to the office and sat down at his desk, his phone vibrated. It was an email notification that had been sent to his personal account from Danika. He opened the message. There was no subject header. Instead it only contained a series of screenshots taken from HOLMES. The body of the email read:
Case number 05/E9/22312/09. This is all I can do for you. Hope you understand.
Jake did. She had broken countless procedures and regulations in sending him the documents, not to mention getting access to them in the first place. As he hovered his finger over the first image, he couldn’t help feeling guilty about it all. She had potentially risked the career she was just beginning to make for herself so that she could help him. It was nonsensical and foolish. The entire Crimsons trial had been plagued by corruption from the outset, and asking Danika to do some of his dirty work made him just as bad as the bent cops who were trying to get Danny and Michael Cipriano out of jail in the first place. If he wanted to get to the bottom of their trial, then he was going to have to play by the rules. That’s what they were there for.
Jake swallowed as he tapped open the first image attachment. It was a screenshot of Danny Cipriano’s personal file. Danny’s mugshot was in the top right of the page, followed by some brief information about him. Date of birth. Height. Weight. But before Jake could read any further, he was interrupted.
Drew and Garrison wandered past his desk and stopped either side of him. At the sight of them both, Jake locked the screen using the side button, but as he set his mobile down on the table, the movement wakened the screen, flashing an image of him and Elizabeth on their wedding day. Drew peered over and glanced at it.
‘That the wife?’
Jake snatched the phone before Drew could and quickly pocketed it. ‘Yeah,’ he replied.
‘She said anything?’
‘Nothing yet.’ Jake chuckled nervously. ‘Still waiting to hear from her.’
‘Well, let us know when something happens.’
‘Of course,’ Jake said.
‘Be careful what you wish for,’ Garrison added. ‘This one’ll be stealing your missus if he gets near. He’s a deviant. Bit of a predator.’
‘Fuck you, Pete,’ Drew spat, and then the three men laughed awkwardly.
As the brief laughter died down, a body exited the interview room to Jake’s right. Jake recognised Archie immediately. That face. That hair. That tracksuit. At the sight of Jake, Archie waved. Surprised, and feeling obliged to reciprocate, Jake waved back. Wandering behind him, escorting him out, was a uniformed officer. After quickly losing interest in Jake, Archie meandered across the office and then headed out of the building.
‘How’d it go with him?’ Jake asked, turning to Drew.
‘Oh… you know. Wasting police time apparently. Doesn’t look like anything will come of it.’ He faced Jake. ‘We’ll still keep our eye on him though. If anything crops up I’ll let you know, all right?’
‘Yeah,’ Jake said, his mind elsewhere. ‘I appreciate it.’
Jake was distracted. He was thinking about the email. He wanted to read the rest of it, but first he had to get rid of these two loitering behind him.
After the door closed behind Archie, Liam appeared from his office and headed over to the three of them.
‘Nice little mothers’ meeting?’ he asked. Before any of them could respond, he pointed at Jake’s computer monitor. ‘You haven’t even opened it yet?’
‘Opened wh—?’ Jake snapped his head round to face his computer. Resting against the screen was a card. Jake reached for it and opened it. Sparkles and glitter and confetti fell onto Jake’s lap, and in his hand was a Congratulations card. The inside of the message wished him good luck on the imminent
arrival of his baby girl and everyone in the office had signed it, including DCI Hamilton and the rest of the Missing Persons Team.
‘That was my idea,’ Liam said, slapping Jake on the shoulder. ‘Before anyone tells you otherwise.’
Jake was speechless. He had never received anything like this before – not even before Maisie was born, and during that pregnancy, he was so excited he hadn’t been able to shut up about it.
‘I don’t know what to say,’ he said. ‘It’s so kind. Generous. Thank you.’
‘I’ll buy you a pack of digestives when I’m next in the shops,’ Garrison said over his shoulder.
‘We didn’t know when you were going off, so we thought we’d give it to you now.’ Liam reached behind his back and produced another envelope. ‘This is for you as well.’
‘What is it?’ Jake asked.
‘A lollipop.’ Liam shot him a scowl. ‘Open it and find out, you idiot.’
Liam took a step back and whistled for everyone in the office to come over. They did, and as they stood there watching, Jake felt the pressure of their eyes on him. The tension. The heightened sense of anticipation.
‘If you don’t do it,’ Garrison said, ‘then I will.’
Jake wasted no time in opening the envelope. Inside was a thin wad of notes. The papers felt heavy in his hands, and the smell of old money wafted up his nose.
‘There’s about five hundred quid there. The team had a bit of a whip-round before you got back. We know it’s not much, but it’s something to help you out if you need it,’ Liam said, coming back to Jake’s side. ‘You can buy the little’un something nice. Or maybe yourself.’
A lump caught in Jake’s throat.
‘I… er… I… This is too much,’ he said. ‘I can’t accept this—’
‘You can, and you will,’ Drew said. He extended his hand and Jake shook it. ‘Congratulations again, mate. Pleased for you.’
The rest of the team shook Jake’s hand and patted him on the back before leaving to get back to their work. After he was left alone, he sat on his chair slowly and stared at the money. Then he smiled to himself; not because of the extra cash which covered the costs of the cabs, but because now – finally – he felt part of the team.
Feeling inspired about his work and colleagues, Jake forgot about Danika’s email and began to create a profile of the killer. There was a large whiteboard behind him. He grabbed a pen and began to scribble on it. He noted everything he could think of – anything either Archie, Steven’s parents or Nathan had said to him.
In the middle of the board, he circled one word: Community.
‘What’s that for?’ Drew asked beside him.
Jake snapped the cap on the end of the pen. ‘When I spoke with Steven’s agent, he said that Steven and Jessica were into threesomes, and that they were part of a group. I feel like the killer was a part of the same group. They invited him over, started to have a little bit of fun and then something went seriously wrong.’
‘Have you run a search on local paedophiles or sex rings or anyone on ViSOR?’
‘Not yet.’
‘Probably worth a look before you start doing anything else. At least then we’ll have a list of names we can investigate.’
Filled with the excitement he always felt when investigating, Jake immediately got to work. He was one of the few MIT detectives who had been trained and authorised to use ViSOR – the Violent and Sex Offender Register. It contained a list of people who had been convicted of sexual-related offences in the UK. The parameters for Jake’s search were location and date of conviction. Stratford, and anyone in the past five years.
Shortly after running the search, he had a list of names.
Ten.
None of them began with ‘Lester’.
CHAPTER 19
JESSICA
Lester rang the bell and then placed his ear to the door. The bong echoed on the other side, followed by the sound of a glass being set down on a surface and footsteps drawing closer.
When the door opened, Jessica Mann smiled brilliantly at him, flashing a set of incandescent teeth. She wore a tight, strapless black dress that came to a stop just above the knees. Her chestnut brown hair hung loose, the ends teased into tight curls. She wore a full face of make-up, accentuating her cheeks and eyebrows, and her eyes had been shaded black, giving her an air of mystery and intrigue that Lester adored. The Jessica Mann in front of him was a completely different woman to the one he’d stumbled upon earlier.
‘You look nothing like your profile picture,’ he said, holding the bottle of wine that he’d brought with him.
‘Is that a bad thing?’ she asked. She stepped aside for him to enter.
‘On this occasion, quite the opposite,’ he replied, thinking of how much she looked like Jessica Arnholt. He looked down at the bottle to distract himself. ‘I hope you like Pinot.’
‘It’s my favourite.’ She shut the door behind him and pointed to the kitchen at the other end of the hallway. Beside the kitchen door was a steep set of stairs. As Jessica brushed past him, he felt her hand brush against his groin. She continued down the corridor nonchalantly.
They moved into the kitchen. Jessica grabbed two glasses from a cupboard, took the bottle of wine from Lester and poured. As he waited, Lester observed his surroundings. The kitchen was immaculate and modern. Clean. White. The perfect colour to remove bloodstains from.
‘Nice place you have here,’ he said. By the dining-room door to his left, a cat entered with its tail extended. ‘I hope you didn’t go to all this effort just for me.’
Jessica passed him his glass of wine. ‘You’re lucky my housemate is a clean freak. She claims she has OCD, but I just think that’s an excuse to be anal about everything – working in a hospital doesn’t help.’
‘So what does that make you then? The messy one?’ Lester drank. The wine was warm and tingled his chapped lips, but it was smooth going down his throat and left a sweet aftertaste in his mouth. Not bad for £7.
Jessica drank too, and as she placed the glass down on the surface, she said, ‘I’m messy beyond your wildest comprehension.’
Lester smirked. He was hungry. Ravenous. The monster that he’d discovered as a child was hungry, and he wanted nothing more than to rip her clothes off, tear her in half and fill himself with The Nasties. But he had to wait. He needed to conduct a sweep of the house first; with Steven and Jessica it hadn’t been necessary because he knew and trusted them from his previous visits. But this was new territory for him, a new partner, a new Communion, and there was no knowing what was going on behind the scenes. Whether he was being set up to be overthrown on the leader board. Or, worse, whether she was secretly working for the police and setting him up for an almighty fall.
Lester’s eyes fell on a photograph on the window bay.
‘I hope we won’t be expecting a boyfriend to join us?’ Lester asked, looking at the photo of Jessica wrapping her arms around a man’s shoulders with a girl beside them.
Jessica leant against the oven, folded her arms and legs over one another and sipped. ‘No,’ she said, turning her attention to the photograph. ‘That’s my flatmate’s brother – he lives in Scotland. And that’s my flatmate with us.’
‘Oh?’
‘Yeah. You’re a very lucky man.’
‘Oh?’
‘It took me ages to persuade her to get out of the house. She was called in to do an extra overnight shift, but she told them no. I convinced her it was good for her to go. She needs the money.’
Lester’s concerns rose.
‘Does she know I’m here? She knows I’ve come over?’
Jessica placed her glass down on the counter and approached him. She stroked his arm and squeezed his muscles the same way she’d done when he’d bumped into her at the coffee shop.
‘Relax,’ she said. ‘She doesn’t know a thing. If she did, she’d ask a thousand questions. It’s all good. Our secret is safe. Trust me. I can make you relax.’
Jessica leant in for a kiss, but Lester held her back. His urges were so strong it took every fibre in his being to refrain.
‘What’s the rush?’ he asked. ‘We’ve got the wine. We’ve got the time. Let’s take things slow. I want to make it last the whole night.’
A smirk grew on Jessica’s face. He was disarming her with his charm, and he knew that he was impeccable when taking this approach.
‘I’m beginning to understand why you’re the best,’ she said, wandering back to her glass, picking it up and heading into the living room.
‘Be careful, Miss Mann – flattery will only get you so far,’ he said.
‘I’m prepared to do whatever it takes to get me all the way.’
The living room was clean and tidy. In the corner was a flat-screen television with PlayStation remotes resting beside it. Plush, grey two-man sofas faced the television as if worshipping it on a shrine. Artwork hung on the wall, and for a moment, Lester observed it, but he became distracted by something else: Jessica finding herself a seat on the sofa. As she sat down, she flipped one leg over the other slowly, flashing her underwear and giving Lester, he presumed, the opportunity of looking up her skirt.
Lester slid onto the sofa, joining her. He drank some more of the wine and ignored the thin layer of excited sweat forming on his back.
‘Did you paint that yourself?’ Lester asked, nodding to the art on the wall. It looked familiar.
‘I’m about as artistic as a tortoise with a hairpin for a brush. I’m shit.’ She paused. ‘No, it’s a piece of art from a local dealer. Steven Arnholt? Have you heard of him?’
Lester tensed up. He opened his mouth to speak, carefully calculating his words, but nothing came out. He sipped his drink to stall for time.
‘I thought I recognised the artwork,’ he finally said.
