by Graham Smith
‘Please.’
As she waited on the kettle boiling, she considered Unthank’s reason for being off yesterday. She’d not seen him leave the office even once today, which suggested he’d been cured of the sickness he’d suffered from.
Except it must not have been a miracle cure. He’d picked at a sandwich for lunch, but that didn’t explain the lapses of concentration he’d shown today. He was normally a solid worker, focussed on the task at hand. For him to be daydreaming indicated that he was undergoing something more than a bout of food poisoning.
When she’d asked how he was this morning, he’d looked away from her and given a mumbled reply. She could only think of one reason he was being evasive. He’d been dumped and couldn’t face work yesterday. He’d tried to get through today, but his mind had kept returning to his ex. It explained everything.
Rather than confront him with what may be a wrong idea, Beth decided to do a little fishing to find out if she was right. He’d either tell her or he wouldn’t, but she wouldn’t pry or badger him for an answer.
‘Are you seeing Lana when you finish? Or has she got the bug you had yesterday?’
Unthank’s head turned away from her. When he spoke, his muttered answer was heavy with raw emotion.
‘Not tonight.’
She had her confirmation and decided to leave the conversation where it was.
It would have remained that way, had Unthank not looked so distraught.
After letting him have a minute to himself she walked over and rested a hand on his elbow.
When he lifted his head she found herself looking at a broken man.
‘You’ve worked it out, haven’t you?’
‘That you and Lana have split?’ Beth gave a little shrug. ‘I guessed, that’s all. It’s none of my business, so you don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to.’
Unthank’s lip wobbled as he shook his head. ‘She said that she doesn’t love me any more. That I suffocate her. She’s moving back to her parents. It’s the only reason I’m in today. I couldn’t bear to watch her walk out of my life.’
‘I don’t know what to say beyond the clichés and platitudes you don’t want to hear. Yes, time will heal your broken heart. Yes, you should get back in the saddle as soon as possible, and yes, you will be okay in the end, but the next few days are going to be shit and there’s not a lot anyone can do to take the pain away for you. Shit as it is, having your heart broken is something that happens to pretty much everyone at some point in their life. I guess it’s just your turn.’
A wan smile pulled its way onto Unthank’s face as a fat tear rolled down his cheek.
‘Thanks.’
‘Don’t mention it.’ Beth nodded towards the door. ‘Maybe go to the toilet and wash your face before anyone else comes in though, yeah?’
As she flopped back onto her seat, her eyes were drawn to the list of names.
She saw it before her backside connected with the chair’s thin padding. In her revised listing, the initials of the Christian names of the victims was an acrostic that spelled out the word ‘FRANC’:
Fiona McGhie – Artist
Rachel Allen – Secretary
Angus Keane – Builder
Nick Langley – Builder
Caitlin Russell – Unknown / Unemployed ???
Seventy
The lad sitting across the table from Beth and Thompson was cocksure. Even without having read his record, Beth would have been able to tell he’d seen the inside of an interview room before.
Thompson went through the routine of naming everyone present and stating the reason for the interview.
Billy Sullivan was nineteen years old and still had a rash of acne. Everything about him spoke of an unshakeable self-confidence. The tilt of his head, the set of his jaw and the challenge in his eyes showed he was more than comfortable. He wouldn’t be easy to get talking; it would take all their cunning to get the truth from him.
Rather than go straight in with news of Caitlin’s death, Thompson had suggested they ease into the interview, as he wanted to get Billy used to talking to them before he brought up the subject of murder.
Beth knew that if Billy clammed up from the off, it would be a red flag, but if he went along with their questions and didn’t try to be clever or obstructive, depending on his answers they’d be able to eliminate him from their enquiries or charge him for Caitlin’s murder.
Thompson opened the questioning. ‘Do you know why you’re here, Billy?’
‘Something to do with Caitlin. The mad bitch, like totally flipped. I was like, what the fuck, at the way she went off on one.’
‘She flipped, did she? Why was that?’
‘She found a text she shouldn’t have.’ Billy gave a man-of-the-world shrug. ‘Man, I’m too young to, like, get tied down to some madwoman. Gonna play me the field and hope for a crop failure.’ Billy gave a forced laugh and twisted his head to see who was laughing with him.
His laugh halted when he was met with three stony faces. The duty solicitor made sure he could see her rolling eyes.
‘So what happened when she flipped out?’
‘The mad cow launched my phone out the car window. When I stopped to get it back she got out the car and, like, stormed off. My phone was in, like, a thousand pieces, so I let her go. Plenty more where she came from.’
‘You’re from Liverpool, aren’t you? Why were you in the Lakes?’
For the first time, Beth detected a touch of fear in Billy.
‘We just come away for a couple of nights. You know, dirty weekend in the week?’
‘Try again, Billy.’ Beth could detect the deliberate cynicism in Thompson’s voice. ‘We’ve seen your record, and Caitlin’s. We don’t for one minute think you were in the Lakes on holiday. You were up to something. I’ll be honest, I don’t know what it was and I don’t really care. I have more important things to worry about and, right now, I’m trying to find out who murdered Caitlin and left her with a pair of wings sprouting from her back.’
‘She’s dead? Shit, that’s sooo not cool.’ A hand with dirty fingernails swept across his face. ‘How did she die and what’s that shit about wings?’
‘She had a pair of wings surgically attached to her back, and she died after someone poured a flammable substance down her throat and then lit it.’
The room fell silent as Billy processed the news of Caitlin’s murder. Billy looked shocked and his trembling fingers and tear-filled eyes destroyed any illusion of his toughness.
Beth was the one who broke the silence. ‘What are you thinking, Billy? If I was to guess, I’d say you’re wondering why Caitlin was killed, why we’re speaking to you and whether we think you killed her.’
‘You ain’t no fool, lady. But before you start asking questions, I didn’t kill her. Way she was freaking out, I was glad the bitch pissed off when I stopped the car. Didn’t want her dead, just away from me, and she went away. Job was a good’un s’far as I was concerned.’
‘Where did this happen?’
‘Some place in the sticks. Was going from Kendal to Windermere, like. She wanted me to take the back roads so she could see more animals. She loved seeing sheep and cows.’ A shake of the head indicated Billy’s incomprehension at someone wanting to see animals. ‘I only want to see them on my plate.’
Beth tapped on the table’s Formica top before she spoke. ‘Seriously, Billy. We need to know where you last saw her. If you can’t be more specific, then we’ll start thinking you’re being deliberately vague because you’re lying to us. When we think people are lying to us, we wonder why. In your case it doesn’t take a lot of wondering to get from an argument where she dumped you and smashed your mobile, to you being so mad with her that you killed her, and made it look like she was murdered by the person who’s been killing other people the same way.’
‘What other people?’
Beth realised that Billy was probably the type of person who’d only watch the news to see if
his own crimes had been reported. He hadn’t heard of the Dragon Master’s killings, and if her impression of him was anything to go by, he sure as hell wasn’t smart enough to be the Dragon Master himself.
Thompson’s hand slapped down on the table making them all jump. ‘Cut the nonsense, Billy, we know what you’re at. DC Young has it right. You’re a copycat; you killed her and copied details of the other killings in the way she was left, didn’t you?’
‘I didn’t copycat nothing. Caitlin dumped me and fucked off. End of. If you’re dumb enough to think I’d risk jail for that bitch, you ain’t got no hope of catching no killer.’
Beth and Thompson probed at Billy for another half hour before admitting defeat and releasing him.
Billy Sullivan didn’t possess the intellect to have committed the murders. He was small-time and always would be. His braggart nature and failure to understand anything beyond his own desires would prevent any organised criminals hiring him.
He’d seemed like a good lead but his story had panned out. They hadn’t told him, but the trace they’d run on Caitlin’s mobile had shown where and when he claimed they’d parted company. His car had been picked up by an ANPR camera at the edge of Windermere soon after Caitlin had got out of it, so there was little likelihood he’d stayed around or gone back for her.
The trace on Caitlin’s phone had shown her waiting at a junction for a while and then she’d moved towards Kendal before her phone signal dropped away. That meant her phone had been smashed, as the triangulation signals on all mobiles work even if there’s no battery power or a battery in the phone.
With the interview a waste of time, Beth and Thompson headed for the car park as soon as they’d written up their reports.
As she trudged towards her car, Beth felt her dejection in the slump of her shoulders and the heaviness of her feet. Tomorrow promised to be another long day and if it was anything like today, it would involve a lot of dead ends and futile interviews that brought them no closer to catching the Dragon Master.
The demoralising effect of such days was bad enough for Beth to endure, but what really burned at her was that she, and the rest of the team, were no closer to finding a killer who showed every sign of planning to kill again.
Seventy-One
The noise coming from the lips of the man who used a false name would only be called a tuneful whistle by the most charitable of people. Tonight had gone far better than he could have hoped for. The date with Sarah Hardy had been more enjoyable than expected, as she’d talked and listened with equal interest. The food had been delicious and the service impeccable.
The only slight concerns were the two surprised looks she’d given him. He knew those looks all too well, and he’d spent years trying not to show the side of his nature that elicited them. He’d glossed over them by professing to be nervous and she’d smiled and confessed to her own nerves.
For him though, the best part had been looking at Sarah and imagining what she’d look like when she became part of his project. Of all the tributes he’d offered up, she would be the most beautiful. The grace and poise she moved with was second to none and he couldn’t help but be reminded of graceful birds in flight.
Her body would be a perfect muse for his project. When he added the wings to her back she would be the closest match he’d made yet.
The conversation he’d shared with her had been meaningless in a lot of ways, but he’d inserted a few topics in the name of research. Now he knew where he could snatch her and remain undetected. How he could bring her under his control.
Once he’d done that, he’d be ready to prepare her as an offering.
She’d mentioned the Dragon Master killings to him, and even though he’d been aware the topic may arise, it had been surreal to discuss his crimes with a virtual stranger over dinner. Sarah had speculated about the way Caitlin had been displayed, and he’d struggled not to look smug when she’d mentioned the press theories about the Dragon Master and his kills. All the theories were off base, which had only proven his smartness to him.
The news that the police had discovered the three dragons he’d created at Highstead Castle didn’t worry him as he had no plans to use the castle a fourth time. They would have found them at some point and he felt it was for the best that the police and the press knew of all his kills. It wouldn’t take them long to establish the order of his victims, but he doubted that they’d be able to work out the finer, more nuanced details of his reasons for making dragons.
That Sarah had an ill grandmother she was worried about had been a godsend. It meant she hadn’t invited him in for coffee. He’d even bade her goodbye with the line, ‘I hope your nana is okay, you should call her.’ When she’d smiled and said she would, it felt obvious to him that it’d be the first thing she would do once she was in the house – to call and see how the old girl was. It would establish that she’d returned home from the date, thereby proving his innocence. Should the police come a calling again, he’d be in the clear.
With each new tribute, he was getting closer to appeasing the torment of his childhood. The hours he’d spent hiding from his mother. She’d called him a devil. But she’d been the fiery hell-beast. She’d soared above him and filled him with terror.
While she had actually breathed smoke rather than fire on him, every word that poured from her mouth had burned his soul with viciously expressed criticism. Choosing Fiona McGhie as his first tribute had been so perfect. He’d bought a few of her paintings over the years and had never forgotten the mouthful of abuse he’d received after asking for a discount when he’d bought six pictures in one day. She’d been every bit as critical of him as his dragon of a mother. Her words cut deep searing wounds into his flesh, and she’d waved a cigarette around exactly the same way his mother had. As soon as her diatribe had started, he’d known what he would do to her.
Tonight, not only had Sarah played right into his hands during the date, he’d also managed to get a lock on the copper without too much hassle. Electoral records were so giving, and they were just the first step. They called themselves detectives but they weren’t the only ones who could find out stuff.
With the copper’s home located, he needed to learn what the neighbourhood was like. Google Maps would show a certain amount, but they didn’t give the full story.
The copper was involved in the investigation into his project, which meant she’d be working long hours, often with colleagues ever-present. He knew if he wanted her alone, she’d probably have to be snatched from her home in the middle of the night.
He picked up the keys to his car and strode to the door. Reconnaissance was an important part of a successful operation and he refused to be thwarted at this stage.
Seventy-Two
The office hung with the smell of air freshener when Beth switched on her PC. As she’d entered the room, the cleaners were finishing off their lackadaisical efforts.
All night she’d thought about the acrostic she’d noticed. O’Dowd and Thompson had listened with interest when she’d told them of her theory, but neither had shown a great deal of enthusiasm about the idea. Thompson had even gone so far as to warn her not to get swept up by coincidences. He was probably right. It wasn’t even really a word. And this wasn’t a crossword, it was a murder investigation.
Still, sleep had been a fleeting beast which had shown its face only for short occasions as both her conscious thoughts and her subconscious tried to find the meaning of the acrostic. Assuming no one was complaining about Swiss currency, she had to make the assumption that the word ‘FRANC’ was incomplete. But France, Francis or franchise made no more sense in showing the connection between the victims or as a way of identifying the murderer.
Any connections with the country of France didn’t seem very apt. As for the names, maybe they could belong to the Dragon Master or someone the killer revered. A check of the electoral register would give her a list of all the matches within Cumbria. The names could then be cross referenced against t
he PNC to offer up the most probable suspects.
‘Franchise’ might have seemed like a better option, perhaps. But outside of organised crime, there were few connections between murder and business, unless there was an as yet undiscovered financial link between all the victims.
Try as she might, she couldn’t make any further headway without more information.
Rather than do nothing, she reached for her keyboard and typed an email to Control and every police station in the county, requesting that if anyone was reported missing and their name began with a vowel or an ‘s’, she was to be informed at once, regardless of how little time they’d actually been missing.
Before she sent the email she checked the missing persons’ report. She was pleased to find there were no new reports; therefore if she was right, nobody was in immediate danger.
When the others trooped in they each had a look of defeat on their faces. The horrific nature of the investigation was taking its toll on them and Beth had seen the haunted look her own eyes had developed when putting on her make-up.
She brought them all up to speed on what she’d done, then went back to her spreadsheet to add all the information she’d gathered on Caitlin.
O’Dowd clapped her hands.
‘Right then, listen up. Boys, I want you to find out more about our victims, speak to anyone who knew them and get me as complete a picture of their lives as is humanly possible. Beth, you stay here and keep plugging away with your spreadsheet. Find me a connection between those victims. One way or another, we’ve got to predict where the Dragon Master will strike next and then make sure we’re there waiting with a bear trap.’
As the office emptied, Beth felt both isolated and empowered. She’d been left with an onerous task that may just break the case open. If she succeeded, no more lives would be lost. The guys had got to leave the office and conduct interviews, whereas she was left here to collate the information they fed her. She couldn’t work out if she’d been handed the rubbish job because she was new, or because she was trusted to spot something in the new information the others gathered.
