by Liz Mistry
She turns to me screeching. ‘Look what you made me do … this is your fault Coco. Everything’s your fault…’
‘Come back, Corrine, come back. You’re safe. You’re here. Come back. That’s it, come back.’
The voice is familiar, it’s kind, it’s not calling me Coco. I came back into the room and I’m facing Dr Mahmood. Tears are streaming down my face, and then what I’ve just remembered hits me. I get to my feet, wobbling like my mum in that horrid memory and I grab Dr Mahmood’s bin and vomit in it.
Chapter 26
Bradford
G us’s investigation into Erica Smedley’s murder was going nowhere fast. Plenty of suspects – she hadn’t been liked – but nothing concrete. Nobody stood out as being angry enough with her to do this. Nobody had seen a damn thing. One security camera that might have picked up something had been disabled for a few hours. Compo said that was easily done. If someone had the correct equipment, they could disrupt the basic frequency that home security cameras ran on. Whoever was responsible for Erica Smedley’s death, they were keeping themselves well under the radar.
Every promising lead had been tracked down and every bloody alibi checked out. Gus was beginning to wonder if it was a random thing – a burglary gone wrong – but he knew that wasn’t the case – it didn’t look like anything had been taken. The killer had even left behind the expensive laptop they’d use to incapacitate Smedley. That indicated revenge or a personal issue, but Gus wasn’t convinced. He half expected to get a call about a similar home intrusion murder – which would make things a whole lot more complicated. God, he hoped not. They already had the press hounding them about Miranda Brookes’ death and although Alice and Nancy had kept all speculation away from ritual killings, Gus was well aware that Miranda’s killer wasn’t done yet. The last thing they needed was another killer on the loose breaking into single women’s homes and strangling them.
His phone buzzed with a text alert. Dad! Shit. He wanted to avoid his parents for now. That image of his mum, the expression on her face, the hatred on the other kids’ faces hit him hard. It filled his chest with burning embers that he needed to douse before he could face her again. She wasn’t the only one to blame for not sharing her childhood experiences. He’d made assumptions. Assumptions that as a mixed-race guy who’d faced his own share of racism over the years, he shouldn’t have made. Why would he have imagined his mother’s childhood would have been smooth and pain free? He was an idiot who, as Alice told him every so often, buried his head in the sand. He opened the text from his dad, imagining his chubby thumbs trying to type it out. He and Katie often teased him about his inability to text at speed and his propensity not to notice when auto correct changed the entire meaning of his message. Today it seemed he’d been extra careful.
Dad: Angus. Your mum needs you. She loves you and she needs you more than ever right now.
Gus hesitated, unsure how to reply. He wanted to reach out to his mum, but he was well aware that he needed to get his own anger under control if he was going to be of any use to her. He loved her so much it hurt and he needed to be able to squash his anger at her about the damn sketches – but more importantly, his anger at any one of those people who had hurt his mother when she was a child. It was easy to depersonalise things when it didn’t affect those you love. To have a self-righteous anger when it didn’t directly touch your life – Gus realised he’d been living in a cloak of denial. What was he thinking? How could he not have realised that his mum was probably a descendant of one of the Windrush generation. As far as he knew, she’d never had any contact with her biological father – why had he never asked her about his grandparents? Why? The word reverberated in his brain in much the same way as the current I Can’t Breathe chants echoed around the world in response to George Floyd’s treatment at the hands of the US police. Anger filled him. He’d watched the recordings, counted the minutes, sat shocked and disbelieving with Alice. He’d even attended the #BlackLivesMatter demo in City Park and felt a sense of the times changing. He couldn’t identify with the officers who murdered Floyd – his entire police career had been about fighting the injustices that left people vulnerable to racism, poverty, disadvantage, and more. He’d exposed corrupt misogynistic and racist officers, had tried his best not to perpetrate any prejudicial treatment on the people he came in contact with. But it seemed that the changes that had occurred over his fifteen years in policing, were merely the top of the iceberg. Blowing his anger out in a long slow exhale as his therapist had taught him, Gus looked at his phone screen for a long moment before responding to his father. His words inadequate to express the quagmire of emotions that roiled through his body.
Gus: I know, Dad. I’ll come over soon. Love you xx
Chapter 27
Bradford
Gus could see Alice’s frustration. It was evident in every stilted move she made, every clipped question she asked, every curt order she issued. The entire room seemed to palpate with it, and it was affecting both Taffy and Compo – Carlton as usual seemed oblivious. Their nervous glances, the way they – particularly Compo – seemed to duck their heads every time Alice, who paced the room with irritating regularity, came near.
They were well used to Gus being demanding and, he acknowledged, moody, but Alice was the one who usually lightened situations. The one who mediated between Gus and the other two. Her fearlessness meant she would call Gus out on unacceptable behaviour and the entire team benefitted from her abilities. Now, however, she was the boss – she was the one causing the strain and, Gus realised, although he wasn’t officially on the investigation, he’d have to play at being Alice for once. God how the mighty have fallen!
Mind you, his own investigation into the Erica Smedley murder had also stalled big time, so he knew exactly how frustrated Alice was. They’d interviewed all of Sid’s team and apart from the man himself, the entire team, despite having motive, were alibied to the hilt. If it had been anyone other than Sid who’d been un-alibied after turning up at the crime scene, Gus would have marked them as suspect numero one, but he knew Sid. It couldn’t be him. Still, the slight niggle persisted, and Gus had done a bit of digging on his own about Sid. None of it had turned up anything significant and Gus, who was working on his ‘trust issues’ with Dr Mahmood at the moment, had relegated his rogue thoughts to the back burner. Sometimes Gus felt like he was turning into a conspiracy theorist and it didn’t sit well with him. So, while his smaller team sifted through the Smedley reports and followed up the few leads thrown up by Smedley’s social media activity, Gus had decided to update himself on progress in the Brookes murder.
He was glad he had, because an intervention between Alice and her team was necessary. Taking a moment to consider the best way of addressing the situation without getting his own head blown off, Gus watched as she flung herself onto her seat, gripped the desk to pull herself closer to her computer and glowered. Talk about the lion’s den. Taking a tentative step towards her, Gus stopped when her scalding gaze met his. Aiming for a light-hearted commentary, he splayed his hands in front of him while simultaneously ducking his head. ‘Don’t shoot me, I’m only the messenger.’
Alice’s scowl deepened and Gus realised that humour wasn’t going to work. With a heavy sigh, he moved round to her side of the desk, grabbing a chair as he did so. Straddling the chair, resting his arms along the backrest, Gus looked at her. ‘You’re getting stressed and it’s affecting the team, Al.’
A second earlier he wouldn’t have thought it possible that her scowl could deepen, but right then it did, and Gus winced in response. ‘OK, OK, OK – Just hear me out. This is a big case – one of the biggest we’ve ever had – and you’ve been thrust into the SIO role. It’s a lot.’ He grinned and winked at her. ‘Even for a firebrand like you. But you’re not doing yourself any favours by terrorising Taffy and Compo. They’re your allies and they’re doing their best.’
Alice snorted. ‘There speaks Mr I’m So Approachable McGuire.’
/> Grinning, Gus shook his head. ‘They’re used to me being a grumpy bastard, Al. They’re not used to that from you. You’re the gel that holds the team together, but right now, every sharp look, or disappointed sigh you give, only serves to melt that gel just a little bit more.’
‘Who knew you were a poet, Gus?’
‘I have many skills’ – he paused – ‘and so do you and your biggest one is the empathy and humour that has seen this team through the toughest times – so get your act together, Cooper, and lead your team.’
Alice threw a pen across the desk. ‘You know you’re a real dick when you’re right.’
‘Yes, that’s true – but the important part is that I am right.’
Getting to her feet, Alice walked to the front of the room clapping her hands to attract her team’s attention. Watching from the side, Gus’s grin widened when he saw the panicked glances exchanged between Taffy and Compo. Poor buggers look like they’re facing the firing line.
‘I’ve been an arse, guys.’ Alice waited for some sort of denial but when none was forthcoming, a rueful grin spread across her face and she shrugged. ‘You’re all doing a great job. We’re working the leads but getting nowhere fast and I’m frustrated as I’m sure you are.’
Compo raised a tentative hand in the air. ‘Some of the lab results have come back – I’ve sent them to the main file, but I can summarise – that is, erm, if you’d like, boss.’
While Compo spoke, his gaze kept slipping in Gus’s direction. Gus shook his head slightly hoping that Comps would get the message. Don’t look at me, I’m not your boss on this one. However, it seemed Compo misinterpreted Gus’s gesture and began stammering and ducking back down to sit behind the bank of computers that served as his hidey hole. ‘You can read – yes, I know that, Alice, I mean DS, I mean…’ And all the while, Comp’s furtive glances towards Gus became more and more obvious.
Gus’s entire body tensed, waiting for the avalanche of annoyance that he could see developing in Alice’s tightened lips and tense shoulders. This was not going to be good.
Alice took a step towards the computer geek, inhaled a deep breath…
Here it comes!
‘I know this is a difficult situation for all of you. Gus is your boss and we can’t really escape that fact, but, on this case – purely because of his proximity to one of our key witnesses, I’ve replaced Gus as SIO.’
Well done, Al! Gus was relieved to hear her sounding so calm. Maybe she’d be able to pull this off – after all, she was Alice Cooper – humorous, dedicated, a team player, and ferocious – she knew how to work her colleagues – how to play to their strengths.
‘This means that…’ Alice’s gaze hardened, she looked round the room first at Gus then at Compo and finally at Taffy who failed abysmally to make himself disappear into the woodwork.
Ooops, not going too well now.
‘I give the orders – Gus is here as a courtesy only. He does not make decisions. He is not your boss – got it?’
Everyone nodded, then Carlton, seemingly alerted by the electricity zapping round the room, looked up. ‘Everything OK, folks? I want to chat to you about the killer.’
Eyes rolling, Alice tutted. ‘You’ll have to wait. Compo’s got lab results he wants to share.’
Gesturing to Compo to take her place at the front of the room, Alice slid back into her seat, next to Gus.
‘Not exactly the rousing, team-building speech I had in mind, Al.’
‘Aw fuck off, McGuire – I needed to assert myself and you know it.’
Hesitantly, Compo took his place at the front of the room. Gus missed his natural ebullience, but from experience he also was aware that Compo’s good humour would bounce back. It always did.
Compo brought up a bullet list of the condensed lab results. ‘A high dose of ketamine was found in Miranda Brookes’ body. She was injected in the upper arm – straight into the muscle which made it faster acting…’
Sebastian Carlton plucked at some fluff on his turquoise T-shirt. ‘Poor, poor girl. Our killer wanted her incapacitated physically but wanted her to be aware of what was happening. My initial profile would indicate that our killer would inject the ketamine into his victim – in this case that poor woman – and then would set up the crime scene. Probably talking to her the entire time. Perhaps telling her what was going to happen to both her and her unborn child…’
As Carlton drifted off, his gaze focussed on the ceiling, Gus considered the expert’s words. What a chilling experience. To be conscious, yet unable to protect yourself – to protect the life growing inside you – Miranda Brookes must have been terrified. Compo, unsure whether to continue, glanced at Gus, then, just as quickly, moved his gaze to Alice. Alice held her hand up indicating that Compo should wait a moment.
When Carlton next spoke, the words came out slow and measured as if he was forming these thoughts as he spoke. His gaze remained on the ceiling like he was reading each word from an invisible autocue on the plaster above. ‘He would derive huge satisfaction in terrorising her. He’d take his time removing the old varnish from her toes and applying the new one. He’d hum or sing that damn nursery rhyme as he worked.’ Carlton, as if oblivious of his audience, began to sing in a soft voice. ‘Lavender’s blue dilly dilly, Lavender’s green.’
The entire room remained silent. Every face was turned to Professor Carlton, Gus held his breath, reluctant to break the psychologist’s flow. Almost as if nothing had happened, as if he’d always been completely present in the room, Carlton jumped to his feet. ‘This killer stalked the victim prior to targeting her. She met all his requirements. He was completely sure she would be alone and that he would have the time to complete his work.’
Walking over to the crime board, Carlton pointed at one Post-it note after another arranged around a simple outline of a man titled ‘Killer’ and as he pointed at each note in turn, he read out loud, ‘Mummy issues, Oedipus Complex, childhood sociopathic tendencies, broken home, male, thirty to forty, motivated by revenge…’
Glancing at Alice, Taffy cleared his throat. ‘Excuse me, Professor Carlton, but are you saying that the woman’s pregnancy is part of his MO?’
The smile that spread across Carlton’s round face seemed to steep the room in sunlight. ‘Yes, Taffy. That’s exactly what I’m saying.’
Again, Taffy glanced at Alice before speaking. ‘Then, what we need to ask ourselves is how could he possibly know Miranda Brookes was pregnant? According to her husband they hadn’t shared the news yet. They’d had a failed in vitro fertilisation attempt before and had decided to keep the news private till they were sure the pregnancy was viable.’
‘Ah.’ Compo pointed to bullet point two on his list. ‘Ah, that perhaps explains why the foetal DNA didn’t match the father – they must have relied on sperm donation.’
‘Get that double checked, Taff…’ Gus didn’t finish his sentence, aware that he’d once more overstepped the mark.
But Alice just nodded to Taffy. ‘Do it. Any thoughts on how our killer could know about her pregnancy? Anybody?’
‘If he was stalking her, boss, he might have seen her attend her scan appointment’ – Taffy’s face was scrunched up in concentration – ‘or, you know what secrets are like – nobody keeps them completely quiet, do they? She’ll have told her sister or her friend, or he’ll have told someone and – well, it just escalates – no secret is completely hush-hush, is it?’
Gus mumbled under his breath, ‘Unless, it’s one my parents are keeping, then it stays secret for years.’
‘Follow up on that,’ said Alice ignoring Gus’s mumblings.
‘One last notable finding from the lab, the saliva from the bitten biscuit matched the victim’s DNA and the dental records further corroborated that by matching teeth marks.’ He glanced at Carlton. ‘Just like you supposed.’
Carlton inclined his head in a magnanimous fashion, before adding, ‘The thing that concerns me most about this entire scenario is how
it links your mum, Gus, with those sketches and Rory Robertson. Clearly he is not our perpetrator – apart from being incarcerated – he’s just too old and from all accounts, too frail to be physically capable of manual strangulation and the hoisting of the victim. Which means we need to find a male in the appropriate age range who intersects with your mum, Rory, and the victim.’
Carlton frowned, his gaze taking on that faraway look again. ‘Unless, of course, this is all about Corrine McGuire and the victims are just collateral damage that fits our killer’s purpose.’ He walked over and tapped one of the Post-its. ‘Revenge – maybe your mum has, during her illustrious career as a child psychologist, come across this killer. We need to consider your mum’s career, Gus.’
‘My mum retired from her career years ago.’
‘Yes, but some of her clients would be in the appropriate age band to be our killer.’
Fuck! Just when things couldn’t get any worse!
Chapter 28
Bradford
Fergus was just being himself, but the last thing Corrine needed right now was to be crowded. She needed space, so she wrapped her arms round his huge frame, squeezed tight and whispered, ‘I’m taking the dogs out for a walk. Need some fresh air to clear my head and think things through.’
‘Alone?’ His lips had turned down at the corners, a troubled frown marred his brow.
Corrine smiled. ‘We’ll talk when I get back, yes?’ Whistling for the two dogs Heather and Skye she headed out the door and walked briskly to Heaton Woods, pleased to feel the slight breeze ruffle her hair.
The woods were quiet, so she made her way to the bench at the top. This was the place where the kids sledged from when it snowed. With a view down the hill and over the entire woods, Corrine allowed her mind to replay the memory from when her younger brother had died. They’d lived in tenements in the Gorbals in Glasgow, her, her mum, and Jamie. Her mum had been ‘caught’ by Corrine, whom she’d conceived in the act of prostitution and she never let her daughter forget it. Little snippets of conversations flooded her head. The neighbours talking about her flighty mum.
