Touching the Dead

by Wendy Cartmell

‘Yes, but I didn’t think she was.’

  ‘Fuck, Byrd, we need to find out if he’s got her. One team to his flat. One to the leisure centre. Come on.’

  ‘Are you sure?’

  Jo said, ‘Of course I’m bloody sure. I can’t take the risk that by delaying and waiting for evidence, something might happen to her. I’d never live with myself. Come on.’ Jo grabbed her suit jacket off the back of her chair and put it on as she walked out of the office.

  She dispatched a team to Chichester Leisure Centre, and she went with Eddie to Daniel Tate’s flat.

  They screeched to a halt outside his apartment block and parked in a vague approximation of sideways onto the kerb. After running up the stairs, Jo started banging on his door, ringing the bell and making a right nuisance of herself. Eventually the door opened, and Tate stood there.

  ‘What the hell do you two want?’

  Jo didn’t answer him, just barged past him into the living room. Sat on the sofa was her detective constable, Jill Sandy.

  Byrd was right behind her and said, ‘Bloody hell, Jill, are you alright? Has he harmed you?’

  ‘No, Boss, why would he?’

  Sauntering into the room behind them, Tate said, ‘Look here, if I want to sleep with someone, why shouldn’t I? Just ‘cos she’s one of yours.’ Jo turned to find an arrogant look on his face, complete with a sly grin.

  Eddie was quicker than Jo was and turned and punched Tate in the face, while Jo grabbed Jill Sandy’s arm and bundled her out of the door.

  ‘Here, that’s police brutality,’ shouted Tate, his hand over his nose, trying to catch the blood that was streaming out of it.

  ‘Shut the fuck up or I’ll arrest you for assaulting a police officer.’

  Jo could hear the anger in Byrd’s voice and had no doubt that he would take great pleasure in arresting the slimy toad that was Daniel Tate.

  ‘I haven’t touched you,’ Tate grumbled, whose shirt was now covered in blood as well as his hand.

  ‘Not me, assaulting DC Sandy you twat.’

  Jo turned to Jill who was now with her out in the hallway. ‘Jill, what the fuck did you think you were doing?’

  ‘Going undercover.’

  ‘You blithering idiot,’ Jo gasped at the ineptitude of her detective constable. ‘Going under cover means the suspect doesn’t know you’re a police officer.’

  ‘I just thought I might get an angle on him, you know, get inside his head.’

  ‘The only thing he’s been inside is you! Honestly you didn’t need to sleep with him.’

  ‘Sleep with him? What are you talking about?’

  ‘Well what the hell were you doing?’

  ‘Talking. Mostly about him. I drank too much red wine and crashed out on the sofa. He’d just woken me up and was making a black coffee.’

  Jo and Eddie looked at her in astonishment.

  ‘I’m rather hurt you think I’d sleep around, ma’am. And particularly with a suspect.’

  ‘Jill you could have put yourself in extreme danger.’

  ‘I’m sorry, but I don’t think he’s dangerous.’

  ‘Do you have any proof of that?’

  ‘No, not exactly.’

  ‘Well then shut the fuck up, go home, have a shower and get changed and then come and see me in my office. Is that clear enough of an instruction for you. Oh and do not ring Daniel Tate, do not see him again, do not communicate with him in any way. Do I make myself clear?’

  ‘Crystal, ma’am.’

  There was that m word again, which she was sure Sandy was using deliberately and it served to make Jo even angrier.

  ‘Good, now fuck off.’

  As Jill walked away from them, Jo turned on Byrd. ‘Jesus, Eddie what the hell? Did you know about this?’

  ‘Of course not, Boss. Oh and by the way…’

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘I love the way your eyes flash when you’re angry.’

  ‘And you can fuck off too,’ said Jo but she was smiling inside at the back handed compliment.

  35

  It was later that afternoon that Jo eventually had time for Jill Sandy. She’d seen the young constable working hard at her desk but hadn’t a clue what she was doing. Whatever it was it didn’t matter; she was out on her ear.

  Calling her into her office, she left Jill standing in front of her desk, not asking her to sit down.

  ‘You made a monumental mistake, DC Sandy,’ she began.

  ‘Yes, Guv.’

  ‘What on earth possessed you?’

  ‘This,’ and she placed a folder on Jo’s desk.

  ‘What is it?’

  ‘I’d be obliged if you’d read it before you send me back to uniform. That is what you’re planning to do isn’t it?’

  ‘Damn right it is.’ Jo believed in being honest with her officers, even if the truth could be seen to be harsh or extreme.

  ‘Well, view that as mitigating circumstances.’

  Jo bent her head to skim read the closely typed pages, expecting a heartfelt plea to let Sandy stay on the team. But she soon stopped, went back to the beginning and began to read properly.

  Well I’ll be buggered she thought to herself, for Sandy had written a psychological profile of Daniel Tate.

  ‘That’s why I went to his flat. Not to sleep with him, but to find out what makes him tick for you.’

  ‘How the hell do you know about all this stuff.’

  ‘I’m doing an OU degree in psychology, Guv. Paying for it myself and doing it in my own time. I’ll go and collect my things now. I’d like to thank you – ‘

  ‘Oh shut up will you. Tell Byrd to come in here and you can go and see Judith and see what she’d like you to do next.’

  ‘Oh. Right. Yes. Thank you.’

  ‘That means go now, DC Sandy, before I change my mind.’

  ‘I’m gone,’ she called from the door and Jo watched her fairly skip over to Judith’s desk.

  Jo had seen Byrd watching the exchange and he sauntered over to Jo’s door.

  ‘Is she out?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘How come?’

  ‘Read this,’ said Jo and pushed the file folder across her desk to Byrd. ‘Sandy reckons our killer is schizophrenic with delusions.’

  ‘Bloody hell,’ said Eddie, picking up the folder.

  ‘And she reckons it’s not Daniel Tate, because he is a narcissist.’

  Sitting down opposite Jo he started to read.

  36

  Lindsay had felt much better since her meeting with her tutor. She’d told him where the police investigation was at and then what Archie had proposed she do and how cross she was with him for it. To her surprise her tutor had sided with Archie. He’d said the reporter had a point and surely Jo could think about things from that angle. He’d reminded her it was still within the remit of forensic psychology to understand how the victims and the general public felt, as well as helping to identify perpetrators from an understanding of their psyche.

  He’d also made a suggestion that she investigate the Anubis angle further. He’d decided it would help her to get a more in-depth feeling for the Egyptian God. To that end he was organising a meeting for her with an Egyptology professor in the History Faculty. He’d stressed upon her that the secret of a good dissertation was in-depth analysis coupled with original thinking.

  She was sat in the window of Costa Coffee, slowly stirring her drink and waiting for Archie. She’d arranged to meet him so she could apologise. She’d even written the bare bones of the article for him by way of an olive branch.

  She wondered which Professor her tutor would arrange for her to see. She pulled out of her bag a printout of the Faculty staff she’d taken from the university website. She looked at each one in turn and wondered if she was going to be lucky enough to meet with Professor Russell. Now there was a horny looking bloke, despite his age.

  ANUBIS

  Anubis was beginning to feel uncomfortable. He kept having feelings that someone was
watching him. Following him. He started to take notice of people around him. Who was it? A friend of one of those he’d already taken? Someone upset by his choice of victim? The police?

  The trouble was there was nothing he could put his finger on. He would scan a crowd when the back of his neck started to prickle, but not see a familiar face. Every now and then he saw a shadow pass him by.

  He’d taken to turning the lights off at home and peering through the curtains to check the road outside, searching for cars with people in that could be putting him under surveillance.

  Was it the police?

  A member of the public?

  He supposed that if it was the police, they would have a pool of people they could call upon, meaning he wouldn’t keep seeing the same faces in the crowd, or in a café, or the local supermarket. He’d taken to looking all around him, at all times. Never really able to settle. It was unnerving. He kept reminding himself that he was Anubis. The God of Death. No one would dare move against him.

  But it seemed that someone was.

  Someone was getting far too close.

  For that they’d have to pay.

  37

  Jo and Byrd were stood looking at the board. On it were photographs of Daniel Tate, leaving the flat, arriving at work, working with a client, taking a class, walking home, all taken at some point during his days. But not one showed any suspect activity.

  ‘What about his alibis, Byrd?’

  ‘Doesn’t really have any, Guv.’

  ‘See that’s the trouble isn’t it? Daniel Tate doesn’t have an alibi for any of the nights we think the girls were taken. Not even for several days either side.’

  ‘I know what you mean,’ said Byrd. ‘Sometimes he says he was out, but he can’t be found on CCTV. At other times he says he was in, but as he’s now home alone there is no one to corroborate his story, after all his flat mate, Alison, is dead.’

  ‘That’s what creeps me out about him.’ Jo sat down and took of her heels, massaging her feet. She’d been on them for far too long. God knows why she’d put them on this morning. Just fancied a change, she supposed. But she was paying for it now.

  Byrd persisted, ‘But that is not evidence is it?’

  ‘No but I want him brought here and I’m going to hold him for a while, let him sweat it out. That will show him I mean business.’

  ‘Look, are you sure, Jo?’

  Byrd had just used her name at work, something he rarely did. ‘Of course I am,’ she snapped. ‘What’s your problem?’ She quickly replaced her shoes and stood. She didn’t like being intimidated by Byrd standing over her.

  ‘There’s just no evidence to suggest that he’s our killer. You know that, deep down, don’t you?’

  ‘Byrd,’ Jo warned.

  ‘And Jill’s profile concludes that he’s narcissistic, but not necessarily a psychopath. So I don’t get it.’

  ‘Get what?’

  ‘Where your obsession comes from.’

  ‘Obsession? Jesus, Byrd, you’re really outdoing yourself this time, aren’t you? What makes you think you can say anything you like to me? I’m your superior officer and you will show me some respect!’

  ‘Respect has to be earned, Jo.’

  ‘What the fuck? Jesus. I never thought that you of all people would speak to me like this. I’ve no idea what’s going on in your head, but whatever it is, it doesn’t allow you to talk to me this way.’

  Jo stormed into her office and grabbed her handbag.

  ‘I’m going home before either of us do or say something we’ll regret. And I think you need to adjust your thinking by the time you come into the office tomorrow. Either that, or you’re out. Do I make myself clear?’

  ‘Perfectly, ma’am.’

  The use of ‘ma’am’ made her even crosser, as Byrd turned on his heel and made for the stairs. Jo walked to the lifts, taking deep breaths that didn’t help bring her anger level down one bit. She didn’t want to take the lift but wasn’t about to use the stairs as that’s where Byrd had gone. Once in her car, she set the engine into sports mode and raced out of the car park, heading for home.

  The twenty-minute journey was achieved in ten and Jo sent the gravel on the drive flying as she pulled up in front of the garage. She ran up the stairs, slammed the door shut behind her and grabbed a beer from the fridge.

  She’d only taken one gulp of the drink, when there was a buzz from her door. She walked over to the intercom and said, ‘Look, leave me alone, I’m not in the mood, dad.’

  ‘It’s not your dad, Jo, it’s me.’

  ‘Oh, Byrd.’ Jo thought about not letting him in, but in the end pressed the unlock button.

  She didn’t speak when he arrived at the top of her stairs. She was still too upset with him and felt the safer action would be to keep her mouth shut. There was ice forming around her heart and it was growing in thickness as she realised that Byrd had not turned out to be the man she thought he was.

  ‘You’ve got some nerve showing up here.’

  ‘Yeah well I fancied a beer,’ and Byrd walked over to the fridge and helped himself.

  ‘What the fuck do you think you’re doing? You rip me to shreds at work and now walk around my flat as though you own the place. I think you’d better go. I’ve had quite enough of you for one day.’

  ‘No.’

  ‘What? What do you mean no?’

  Jo walked over to Byrd, who put his beer on the kitchen worktop, and she started to try and push him out of the flat, with both hands on his chest.

  ‘Go on, get out of here.’

  But Byrd didn’t move and Jo realised that he was stronger than she was. She was trying to regulate her breathing with little success. She was in danger of having a panic attack. She just couldn’t believe that Byrd would treat her like this.

  ‘I’m not leaving, Jo. I’m not leaving you.’

  ‘Get out of here,’ she screamed, hating herself for reacting like this.

  ‘Stop pushing me away. Emotionally I mean. You don’t need to be so frosty. Hiding your true feelings all the time.’

  And then, instead of leaving, Byrd pressed her up against the wall, his body moulding to hers. He grabbed her wrists and held them above her head. Jo started to feel something. Was it fear? She wasn’t sure. It was something. But not something bad. Not threatening. Not frightening in one sense, but bloody petrifying in another…

  His lips on hers meant the rest of that thought blew away.

  Once the shock subsided, she realised she was rather enjoying this.

  And that she had waited such a long time for it.

  Her anger quickly turned to passion as they kissed again.

  38

  The buzzing of Byrd’s phone woke Jo, and she found she had slept with her limbs wound around him.

  Dear God, what have I done?

  I’ve just had the night of my life, that’s what.

  Jo had thought it would just be sex, not mean anything, never to be repeated, but it turned out to be so much more than that. Not that she was going to admit any of that to Byrd. And the never to be repeated rule still applied. Didn’t it? But she’d slept. No dreams. No nightmares. Just sweet restorative sleep. The sleep of contentment.

  Her own phone buzzing made her turn away from him and grab it off the bedside table. Byrd had woken as well and was kissing her arm, her shoulder, her neck. Jo groaned as her body started to respond to the kisses, so she put the phone back down and gave in to Byrd’s insistent probing, kissing and kneading. For the first time in her life she didn’t leap out of bed to rush to work. She was sure they had a few extra minutes…

  Afterwards she rang Judith back. ‘Yes? You wanted me?’

  ‘Morning, Boss. Got a new missing person. Could be Anubis’ next victim.’

  Jo sat up, the bed sheet falling away from her naked body.

  ‘Who? Where? When?’

  ‘I’ll text you the details. Oh and have you any idea where Byrd is, Boss?’

  ‘Byrd?
’

  ‘Yes, Boss, you know, Detective Sergeant Eddie Byrd. I can’t find him, to let him know.’

  ‘Just send him a text, Judith. I’m sure he’ll see it soon. In the meantime, I’ll get there as quickly as I can.’

  Maybe they shouldn’t have taken those few extra minutes she told Byrd and leapt out of bed to grab the fastest shower ever, quickly followed by her DS.

  Jo looked down at the photograph of the possible next victim of the killer they’d dubbed Anubis. Well strictly speaking it was the Chichester Argus that had coined the name and Jo and her team had adopted it.

  Was Lindsay Hutt his next victim? Lindsay was also studying at Chichester Uni, but this time working towards a degree in criminology. Did that mean anything? Jo left her office to find Eddie and see what he thought.

  ‘Yes, Boss?’ he asked as she walked up to his desk, his eyes shining with a secret smile. As they’d parted earlier, on the steps of her flat, they’d agreed not to mention what had just happened to anyone. And preferably not even themselves. It wasn’t a good idea for it to carry on, because damnit they worked together. Jo was his senior officer. It was a can of worms that should stay firmly closed.

  ‘She’s studying criminology,’ she said.

  ‘Who? Lindsay?’

  ‘Yeah. I’m just wondering if that means anything?’

  ‘Best we go and find out.’

  ‘Go?’

  ‘To her room. It will give us a sense of who she is.’

  ‘Absolutely. Sure.’

  In Byrd’s car, sat in the passenger seat as he drove, Jo was acutely aware of him. She became fascinated by his hands, strong and firm on the wheel, that a short time ago had been exploring her body. The rippling of the muscles in his arm as he changed gear. His breathing making his chest rise and fall as it had done last night, when she’d laid her head on his chest and he had tucked his arm around her, holding her close. Keeping her safe.

  Stopping at a set of traffic lights, he turned to look at her.

  ‘Boss.’