by Kate Medina
‘He said that they’ve caught the intruder on CCTV, but they haven’t told me what he looks like. They probably should. I might know him or have seen him around. That’s likely, isn’t it?’
‘I’m sure we’ll want you to see the video, but let’s just let the forensics team do their job for the moment,’ Workman said, in what Jessie would describe as a perfect bedside manner. It was an art that she had failed, in her thirty years of life, in her six years as a clinical psychologist, to ever perfect.
Cherry gave a distracted half-nod. ‘How’s the little boy?’ she asked, addressing the question to Jessie.
Jessie had no idea how Leo Lewin was psychologically, though she did know that he was physically unharmed. ‘He’s fine,’ she said. ‘His father is at the hospital with him now.’
Was he? She didn’t know whether Simon Lewin would have reached the hospital yet, didn’t know and didn’t care. She didn’t trust the man as far as she could kick him.
‘That’s good,’ Cherry said. She took a fidgety sip of her tea. ‘Will the dogs be all right? They’re all still in their cages and the forensics guy … Burrows … Mr Burrows wouldn’t let me feed them or anything.’
‘We want to minimize traffic through that room,’ Workman said. ‘So that we can preserve as much evidence as we possibly can. This might give us the breakthrough that we need, Cherry.’
Workman seemed to be in control and she was more in tune with Cherry than Jessie was. Despite her job, tea and sympathy wasn’t Jessie’s forte. Moving over to the door that led to the indoor kennel compound, she stepped through to join Marilyn who was waiting outside the cage at the end of the walkway – the empty cage – watching Burrows crouched inside, studying something in his hands. A few dogs were standing by their doors, observing the forensics circus with tilted heads; others had retreated to their baskets, Burrows and his team already old news. A few tails thumped in baskets as Jessie passed, but most of the dogs seemed to be over visitors.
Hooking latex-gloved fingers through the wire wall of the cage an arm’s length above his head, Burrows hauled himself to his feet as she joined them. The effort required seemed much like the effort that would be required to raise the Titanic from the ocean floor.
‘Good morning, Jessie.’
‘Morning, Tony.’
‘What have you found?’ Marilyn asked.
‘Morning to you too, Marilyn,’ Burrows replied, with a pointedly cheery smile, opening the cage door and stepping into the corridor. ‘We’ve found a couple of items of significance. Firstly, the CCTV video – you really do need to watch that.’
‘What the hell does it show?’
He rolled his eyes. ‘I have no intention of ruining your viewing pleasure, DI Simmons, by giving away spoilers.’
‘It had better be good after everything I’ve heard.’
‘Oh, it’s better than good. It nails a five-star rating, no question. It’s the strangest thing I have ever seen.’
Marilyn raised an eyebrow. ‘So we have five-star video evidence and we have …?’
‘This …’ Burrows said, twisting the evidence bag three-sixty so that Marilyn and Jessie could study the object contained inside. A mask of thick flexible rubber, white, covered in jet-black dots. There were two elliptical holes for eyes and two small round holes, punched into the oil-black nose, for breathing. It should have been fine, fun even, at a stretch, but in the context of where it was found, encased as it was in the plastic evidence bag and knowing that it had significance – God knows what yet – in the grisly murders of five people, it was just plain creepy.
‘It’s for dressing up, I presume. A dog,’ Burrows said unnecessarily, before adding, equally unnecessarily: ‘A Dalmatian.’
‘Did the perpetrator drop it or leave it behind?’ Marilyn asked.
‘Neither. Leo Lewin was wearing the mask when Cherry Goodwin found him. She said that he wasn’t moving when she first went into the room, so unless he was drugged, which toxicology will tell us, we can assume that he was asleep and that the dogs barking at Cherry woke him.’
‘Any forensics on the mask?’
‘No fingerprints unsurprisingly, but we have a hair caught here …’ He raised the evidence bag to Marilyn’s eye level, and pointed. ‘Where the elastic headband is attached to the mask itself.’
‘Leo’s?’
Burrows shook his head. ‘An adult’s, I would say. Children’s hair is finer. I took a sample from Leo, obviously, before he was taken to hospital. And I have his clothes, fingernail scrapings, clippings, the works. The poor little bugger screamed his head off while I was doing it all, but needs must and all that. Sarah did a good job of playing nanny, until the paramedics carted him away.’
‘Expedite it, Burrows,’ Marilyn said, jabbing his finger at the hair. ‘Expedite the lot. I don’t care how much it costs.’ He turned to Jessie. ‘Shall we look at the CCTV now, Dr Flynn? Find out what everyone is getting so hot under the collar about.’
63
When Jessie arrived home at half-past midnight, she found Callan, still awake, stretched out on the sofa reading, Lupo lying on the floor next to him. There was another dense patch of silvery-white hairs on her not-so-spotless cream sofa, which Callan was attempting to hide with his feet. Jessie put her hands on her hips.
‘Callan?’
Tossing his book on the coffee table, he smiled up at her, a relaxed, easy smile that lit his amber eyes the colour of warm honey. ‘He heard you coming and jumped off. He already knows not to mess with the boss.’
‘Have you been dissing me to the new boy in my absence?’
‘No dissing required. He’s a perceptive chap, is young Lupo.’
Jessie smiled. ‘My OCD is old news anyway. I am reborn and I am perfectly fine with having a thousand snow-white needles covering my sofa. I may yet become Cherry Goodwin and ship in a whole load of mangy mutts.’
Kicking her shoes off on the doormat and leaving them in a heap, ignoring the tiny fizz from the electric suit she felt as she walked away, she tossed her handbag on the coffee table next to Callan’s book and watched it sag, spilling her diary and keys onto the spotless gnarled oak surface – another fizz, also ignored. She then lay down on top of him and kissed him hard. ‘I’ve missed you.’
‘I’ve missed you too, gorgeous.’
Wriggling sideways, Jessie wedged herself between the back of the sofa and his warm, solid bulk and laid her head on his shoulder.
‘I saw on the news that Leo Lewin was left at Paws for Thought,’ Callan said.
‘Yes, thank God. It would have tipped all of us over the edge if that little boy had come to any harm. We’re telling the press that he was handed into reception.’
He raised an eyebrow. ‘Wasn’t he?’
‘Er, no. That would be far too easy and far far too normal for this case.’
‘So where?’
‘He was left in that cage.’
‘That cage? The imprint cage?’
She nodded; he was interested now. Swinging his legs off the sofa, he sat up.
‘Did Cherry Goodwin switch on the nanny cams when she left for the night?’
‘She did.’
‘Thank God for that. The woman gave me no faith at all that she’d be able to operate them. Teaching my mum how to work her bloody mobile phone was a less painful process.’
‘Goes with the territory of mad dog woman, I’m afraid.’
A look of amusement in those watchful amber eyes. ‘Just don’t ask me to go around there again. I trained one camera on the front door and hid the other camera above a wall light in the kennel room, so that it focused down the central walkway. There is no way in or out of those cages without going down the walkway. What did the cameras record?’
‘The camera in reception recorded the perp breaking the toughened glass in the top half of the front door.’
‘With what?’
‘Something small, a nail maybe. The image wasn’t clear enough to see.’
Jessie nodded. ‘The camera then recorded Leo Lewin being carried past the reception desk and out of view. The second camera picked up the perp walking down the central walkway, still carrying Leo in his arms, entering that end cage and laying Leo in the basket. Leo was leaning against his shoulder and appeared to be asleep the whole time, even though some of the dogs were barking. The perp left the way he’d come.’
‘Was he recognizable?’
Jessie didn’t speak for a moment. ‘You’re not going to believe this,’ she said finally. God, I sound like DC Cara now. But even she was still struggling to believe what she had seen on the screen.
‘Try me,’ he said.
Just what I said to DC Cara.
‘Leo Lewin was dropped off at Paws for Thought by someone dressed as a dog.’
‘A dog? What the hell? You mean someone in a dog onesie, a fancy dress outfit?’
‘Sort of.’ She paused. ‘Actually, no not really.’
‘Sort of, actually, no not really, is a nothing answer, Jessie.’ Callan’s tone one of barely suppressed irritation. He had his policeman’s head on now.
‘It was someone dressed as a dog, but a proper dog, a big pale grey dog, like a husky, like Lupo. The full works.’ She moved her hand to cover her face. ‘A full rubber head mask with pointed ears like a husky, eye holes and a black nose. An all-in-one pale bodysuit.’ She balled her fists. ‘Paws for hands.’
‘Paws?’
‘Yes, like gloves, but in fists. Grey fist gloves with paws printed on the bottom, and claws.’
‘Claws made of what?’
She shrugged. ‘You couldn’t tell on the CCTV, but they were dark. Metal, maybe.’
‘Jesus. That’s so fucking weird that it’s almost funny.’
‘No, it wasn’t. Seeing it really wasn’t funny. It was mad and very disturbing. Knowing that the man in that suit, in that husky suit, has murdered five people. Murdered them horribly, Callan.’ She met his gaze; not warm now, just enquiring. ‘That dog is our man, as it were, and we need to find him.’ She grimaced. ‘What the hell is going on in that man’s head?’
‘That’s your department, Doctor.’
‘Sure, and I’ve seen many things, but I’ve never seen anything like that.’
‘Look, you have two choices. Firstly, it’s just a fetish, which to my mind is the most likely option. Fetish goes with the brutal murders, the drowning, the gouging out of the victims’ eyes. It’s scene setting. Like setting up a play. Theatre.’
Jessie shook her head. ‘I don’t buy that. Fetishes are usually sexual, aren’t they?’
‘They don’t have to be. And sexuality manifests itself in many different ways, not just in kinky sex. Lots of people get off on dressing up and not actually having sex.’
‘OK, I’ll take your word for that, but I still don’t think it’s a fetish. I think that’s too easy.’
‘You told me that’s what you said to Marilyn, about the perpetrator being a psychopath. That it was too easy an option. Though from what you’ve said you saw on the video, psychopath doesn’t sound that far from the truth.’
Jessie shook her head. ‘A psychopath wouldn’t need to dress up. Most psychopaths hide in plain sight and they enjoy hiding in plain sight, enjoy pulling the wool over people’s eyes by pretending that they’re normal. They don’t go around in black cloaks with red devil horns pinned to their heads.’ She paused. ‘And actually, I’m not sure the dressing up is the most interesting thing in this case.’
‘Isn’t it?’
‘No. I think—’ she broke off again, banged the heels of her hands against her temples. ‘God, my brain is just so slow.’
‘That’d be the eighteen-hour days and no sleep.’
She laid a hand on his chest and smiled. ‘You should have told me that police work was such a nightmare and I never would have signed up.’
‘Too late now, Doctor.’ He entwined his fingers with hers. ‘What were you saying about the dressing up?’
‘It’s the visiting Paws for Thought, staying there, sleeping in the basket, playing with the toys. I think the dressing up is almost incidental. Actually, not incidental, but necessary.’
‘Necessary, how?’
‘Necessary to become who he wants to become, which is a dog. I don’t think he’s dressing up as a dog, I think that he wants to be a dog.’ She chewed her lip. ‘And the oddest thing is—’
‘One of the oddest things,’ Callan interrupted. ‘Everything is fucking odd about this case.’
‘OK, yes, one of the oddest things is that none of the dogs in the cages reacted to the dog-man at all on that video, even though he was carrying Leo. Most just lifted their heads to listen, but stayed in their baskets. A couple came to the front of their cages and wagged their tails in greeting, but that was it. When I went in there with Cherry the first time, they leapt around, barking.’
‘They knew him.’
She nodded. ‘And not just knew him, but were very familiar with him. So familiar that, even when he was carrying something foreign to them – Leo – they still didn’t react. Their lack of reaction was the human equivalent of not batting an eye.’ Reaching over, she stroked her fingers across the stubble of his cheek, sandpaper against her fingertips. ‘Why would someone want to be a dog, Callan?’ She drooped her hand to his chest. ‘Talk to me about dogs, lovely boyfriend.’
Callan wrapped one arm around her shoulders, dropped the other to where Lupo was lying on the floor, a living statue, feeling the warmth of his skin through the soft, white hair. ‘They’re loyal, faithful. Dogs in a pack have each other’s backs and support each other unfailingly against outside aggressors. There’s a hierarchy in a dog pack, as there is in a wolf pack. Everyone has a place in the hierarchy and everyone is accepted for who they are. They only challenge each other for a reason, such as to achieve elevation in the pack hierarchy, not just because they can.’
Jessie nodded. ‘They’re not judgemental. There’s no nastiness, no bitchiness.’
‘Modern dogs, pets, get everything done for them. They get given food, water, walks, and they can play with toys. It’s a no-pressure job. I could do with one of those myself.’
‘Me too. Would you still love me if I started dressing as a poodle?’
‘No, I can’t stand poodles.’
‘Why not? They’re very intelligent and they have cute pom-poms in all sorts of cool places.’
Callan suppressed a grin. ‘I’d be exceptionally supportive if you got into playing with balls and boners.’
‘For fuck’s sake, Callan.’ She elbowed him hard in the ribs. ‘You have a filthy mind and I’m trying to be serious here.’
‘I only have a filthy mind where you’re concerned, Patch.’
‘Patch? Where the hell did you get Patch from? I really don’t see myself as a Patch. It’s far too mundane.’
‘There was a Patch on the radio years ago. I can’t remember which station, but the DJ used to joke about a black and white Jack Russell called Patch.’ The ghost of a smile crossed his face. ‘Black hair, white skin, feisty, persistent, irritating, never lets anything go. You’re a dead ringer.’
Another sharp jab in the ribs. ‘Remember when I called you lovely boyfriend at the beginning of this conversation? Well you can scratch that description for starters.’
64
Jessie felt as if she was fighting upwards through thick layers of cotton wool, coating her body, wrapped tight around her head, pressing into her ears and eyes, insulating her brain. It was a feeling she’d been waking with for days now – the feeling of forcing her exhausted brain and body to face the day – a day she would give much not to have to deal with. Not just the case to think about, but Callan’s appointment with his neurologist at the Ministry of Defence Hospital Unit, Frimley Park Hospital, at two this afternoon. Decision day. D-Day. Fuck.
Sitting up, she ground her knuckles into
her eye sockets, trying to galvanize her eyes into action. Callan stirred beside her, clamped strong fingers around her wrist.
‘Where do you think you’re going?’
Jessie ducked down and planted a kiss in the soft, warm concave space between his neck and collar bone. ‘Coffee or me?’
‘Both?’
A clang, the letter box, which they ignored.
‘Nope. You have to learn to prioritize.’
He smiled a lazy smile. ‘It’s a no-brainer. You first then coffee.’
The letter box kept clanging.
‘Who the fuck is that?’ he muttered.
‘Clive probably. I’ll be back, with coffee.’ Throwing on her white towelling dressing gown, she padded down to the front door where she found Lupo sitting quietly on the front doormat watching the letter box as it flipped up and down, clanging tinnily against its surround.
‘Your doorbell is broken and you don’t have a knocker,’ the postman, Clive, said. He was shielding a parcel under one side of his navy waterproof jacket over his uniform, which was being peppered with raindrops. He saw Lupo, and took a step back. ‘Woah, he’s a big boy. Is he a new addition?’
‘Yes, a rescue.’
‘I didn’t know you were thinking of getting a dog.’
‘We weren’t.’
He nodded sagely, as if he understood exactly what she was talking about. ‘Well he’s certainly a handsome chap. He’s not a great guard dog, though, is he? Didn’t bark once when I was making that racket with the letter box.’
‘No, he’s not a great guard dog.’ She laid a hand on Lupo’s head. ‘He looks as if he should be, and then it all goes horribly wrong when it comes to execution.’
‘They’re sled dogs, aren’t they?’
Jessie nodded, indicating the small parcel in his hand. ‘The next parcel you deliver here may be twenty times the size of that one and have runners.’
‘Well, there are a ton of red berries on the holly trees already which is supposed to mean that we’re in for a cold winter, so you might be in luck if it’s snow you’re after.’ He handed her the parcel, hopefully the dog-training treats Callan had ordered.
