Copycat

by C. S. Barnes

  Over the course of the previous evening’s thought-shower sessions, Melanie and the team had decided that whoever The Real Michael Richards was, it must have been someone who Jenni trusted – and there was no one that a young woman trusted more than her first love. On the other side of town, Melanie was grilling Eleanor for Michael Richards information too – but she was more concerned about whether the Gregory girl had her own entanglements with the mystical figure.

  Mrs Gregory pulled open the door and immediately stepped to one side to allow the detectives through. They had called ahead to ensure that neither mother nor daughter were otherwise engaged – with a television or radio interview, Melanie had thought, but not said, during the phone conversation with the stern mother. On more than one occasion, Melanie had even wondered whether Mother Gregory might have had something to do with this whole shit show herself. The detective had brushed away the suspicions each time but, given the continuously frosty receptions that the officers were receiving, it was hard not to suspect the woman of something.

  Melanie stepped through the doorway into the living room where Eleanor was sitting, interview ready, it seemed. The girl was perched on the edge of the sofa, legs crossed, and hands folded in her lap as though her mother had coached her through constructing the right appearance. But whatever the desired effect of it was, Melanie was more perturbed than she was impressed. The DI sat on the sofa opposite the girl and Edd soon joined her, followed by Mrs Gregory who merely lingered in the background, reluctant to take a seat next to her daughter, but equally reluctant to let the girl speak for herself too much either.

  ‘Do you mind if we record this?’ Melanie asked, retrieving a Dictaphone from the inside pocket of her suit jacket. ‘We would have preferred you down at the station, Eleanor, but your mother said you weren’t quite feeling up to it.’ Melanie leaned forward to set the device on the table between them both but kept her eyes level with Eleanor long enough to see the girl shoot her mother a cutting look. ‘We can always go to the station if you’d prefer. We can certainly handle the mob outside.’

  Melanie and Edd had pushed through a handful of journalists to get to the front door, but they’d given them space enough as soon as Melanie threatened a temporary restraint on their work. The DI was confident that if they could get in then they could certainly get the girl out, but even Eleanor dismissed the idea this time.

  ‘It’s okay. Mum thinks it safer for me, being at home and all.’ Her voice was steady, less excited than Melanie had heard it in interviews. ‘What is it that you need help with?’

  ‘Frankly, Eleanor, we’re finding out some interesting information between Patrick and Jenni’s computers, and I’m starting to find it hard to believe that you don’t know at least something of what was going on with them, between them,’ Melanie said, her tone level but not accusing; she genuinely sounded curious.

  Eleanor and her mother were clearly taken aback by the question though. ‘What are you implying, Detective In–?’

  ‘I’m not implying anything, Mrs Gregory,’ Melanie cut across the woman. ‘I’m outright asking Eleanor what her involvement is with this case, because there is an involvement, isn’t there?’ She looked pointedly at the teenager who stared back, unflinching. ‘Do you know who killed your friends?’

  Eleanor stretched her eyes wide at the suggestion. ‘Hang on, that’s what you think I know?’ she blurted, and Melanie felt relieved to have at least got what appeared to be an authentic reaction. ‘You think I’d keep quiet about who killed them. Are you for real?’

  ‘You’re being absurd, detectives, bloody absurd,’ Mrs Gregory snapped. ‘Is this the point that your dead ends have brought you to?’

  Melanie ignored the mother’s interruption and continued. ‘Okay, well if that’s not what you know, what do you know?’

  Eleanor rolled her eyes and let out a huff. ‘Jesus, I know Jenni was mad on Patrick, okay? She was mad on him and she would have done anything that he asked her to, that’s what I know.’ She dropped against the back of the sofa and held eye contact with Melanie for a beat before swapping her look to Edd. Neither officer spoke though, holding the silence until it became uncomfortable. ‘What, you think there’s more?’

  ‘Is there not?’ Edd picked up.

  ‘There genuinely isn’t, I swear. She had a soft spot for Patrick and he had a soft spot for serial killers, so she played dress up like he asked her to, and that’s as much as I know. I don’t know why she was researching Michael Richards, or who the Michael Richards she was talking to online was, and I certainly haven’t spoken to the weirdo.’ The words were rushed, a panicked response from a teenager in way over her head, Melanie wondered, but there was something about the girl that still didn’t sit right.

  Edd shot a look at Mrs Gregory. ‘Whoever this is, he, she, they’re targeting the kids through a fake messenger profile. If you’re interested in keeping your daughter safe, I’d consider restricting her Internet access for a while.’ He stood as he spoke, angling his eyeline to look down on the woman. ‘Parent to parent, this is. I’m not speaking as a detective.’ Now he was upright, Edd had better access to his inside pocket and from it he retrieved a small plastic bag with a sealed DNA swab kit inside, which he passed to Melanie.

  ‘You’re going to take a DNA sample?’ Eleanor asked as the DI unzipped the kit.

  ‘If you and your mother have no objections,’ Melanie replied.

  But of course, Mrs Gregory did. ‘Why do you need one?’

  ‘Eliminations more so than anything. We’ve taken a lot of samples from Jenni and Patrick but given the amount of time the three of you spent together…’ Melanie was splitting her explanation between mother and daughter, looking from one to the other as she spoke. ‘It’s no surprise that we’d find a lot of your DNA on their clothing and that sort of thing. It’ll just make life easier all round.’ This seemed to pacify Mrs Gregory, but Melanie wanted to be sure that she had the teenager on board. ‘Are you sure you’re okay with this?’ she spoke to the young woman directly.

  Eleanor flashed a smile that bordered close to a smirk. ‘I’m relieved that you’ve asked.’ She threw her mouth wide open like a child readying for a sweet to be thrown at her, and Melanie carefully rubbed the swab along the inside of the girl’s cheek before packaging it back into its protective gear. ‘So that’ll be on record now?’ Eleanor asked.

  ‘Once the lab has processed it, yep,’ Edd explained as the DI took great care to ensure the swab was properly sealed before slipping it into her own inside pocket. With that item safely stashed away, she picked up the recording device that had lain with its lights blinking between her and the girl. She hit pause, then stop, before killing the power and pocketing the small machine.

  With only a hint of sarcasm, Carter thanked Mrs Gregory for her help in the ongoing investigations while Melanie gave Eleanor a sincerer note of thanks before standing. The officers excused themselves, assuring Mrs Gregory that it wasn’t necessary for her to see them off the premises, and they held their pensive silence until they were a good four paces down the driveway, heading back toward their vehicle.

  ‘What are your thoughts, Edd?’ Melanie asked, eyeing her colleague from the side.

  ‘Honestly, boss, I don’t have much to add about her revelation. They’re a group of teenagers. I would have been more surprised if one of them didn’t fancy the other.’ He paused to unlock the car and walked around to the driver’s side. Speaking over the top of the vehicle, he added: ‘What I did find interesting was Eleanor’s comment about not knowing who The Real Michael Richards is, from the chats between them and Jenni.’

  ‘You find it interesting that she claims not to know who it is?’

  ‘No, no,’ Edd continued. ‘I find it interesting she knows about The Real Michael Richards screen name, given that I never told her that’s who Jenni was talking to.’

  37

  It was the morning after when the team as a whole could reconvene from their respective dut
ies. Melanie had brought breakfast – bacon and egg sandwiches for everyone – but it was clear that nearly three weeks of eighteen-hour days was starting to take its toll on them all, the DI included. She hoped that a new discovery would boost team morale, but it seemed unlikely that anything was going to come their way. Fairer had looked into the names that Gibbons had listed as potential troublemakers, but none of them showed any real cause for concern.

  ‘They’re just bloody kids, aren’t they? Gibbons’ idea of what a troublemaker is, is a far cry from ours.’

  Meanwhile, Burton and Read didn’t have much luck with their avenues for enquiry either. They had spent a portion of the afternoon asking the Granthams for details of their daughter’s romantic life, but it seemed that this was another empty avenue.

  ‘They said she never really showed an interest in boys,’ Read explained.

  ‘Or girls,’ Chris added, noting Melanie’s raised eyebrow. ‘They said that at one point they wondered whether Jenni and Patrick were likely to become a thing, but it was clear that there was nothing there after they saw them together. Close friends, both parents agreed. We managed to make it over to the Nelson house as well,’ Chris said, looking down at a small strip of paper balanced on her thigh. ‘We’ve got one or two names of girls, mostly from the college. It looks as though Patrick wasn’t shy about bringing people home with him, but neither of his parents thought there was really anyone of note within all this.’

  Melanie eased off the edge of the desk where she’d been balanced and ran a hand through her messed hair. ‘There must be something here,’ she said, turning to face the evidence board. ‘What are we missing?’

  ‘What about Eleanor?’ Chris asked, pulling back the DI’s attention.

  ‘Oh, she’s a delight,’ the DI replied, sitting down to address the room. ‘She told us that Jenni and Patrick were a thing, but we’ve got no evidence for that. She also told us she didn’t know who The Real Michael Richards is, which Carter found particularly interesting, given…’

  ‘I never told her the screen name of who Jenni was talking to,’ Edd completed his boss’s opening. ‘We took a DNA swab, which she seemed far too fucking cheery about as well.’

  ‘Long and short, she knows more than she’s willing to tell us still,’ Melanie finished.

  ‘Can’t we drag her in?’ Read piped up. ‘Surely that’s what we’d normally do.’

  ‘On what grounds?’ Melanie asked, with genuine hope that her DC might suggest something.

  ‘Withholding evidence?’ Chris suggested.

  ‘Obstructing a police investigation?’

  A wave of suggestions moved around the room and, while Melanie admired the stirrings of optimism that were shifting through the team, she was yet to hear anything that she could use to justifiably bring Eleanor in for cautioned questioning.

  ‘We’ll keep pushing. Whatever’s there, we’ll find it. She’s a teenage girl. How many of those do you know who can keep a secret on a permanent basis?’ Melanie said, silencing the suggestions that were still mid-flow. ‘Morris, any luck with Waller?’

  Lucy pulled up a sheet of A4 paper that had been lying on her lap and read. ‘Patrick Nelson died from blunt force trauma to the back of the head. There were at least three separate blows delivered, as determined from the angles of the wound. The approximate time of death is three days before his discovery.’ She looked up to address the room. ‘Which confirms that he was never abducted, incidentally, he was killed on the night he went missing.’ She looked down to continue reading. ‘There were pressure marks and bruising around his neck, as though someone had started to strangle him but ceased, and there was DNA found around these markings sent to the lab for further testing.’ Morris paused again to address the DI. ‘That’s the stuff that forensics is trying to match to Jenni’s unknown sample.’ She set the paper down. ‘That’s everything really. Waller said he’d email you a full report but that’s the highlight reel.’

  ‘Is there any way to tell which blow killed him?’ Chris Burton asked.

  Morris looked over the sheet. ‘Not that I’ve got listed here, no.’

  ‘Why do you ask?’ the DI replied.

  ‘I’m wondering whether it’s a clumsy kill or whether it’s someone going to town on their victim,’ Chris explained. ‘If the first blow killed him, the second two will have just been anger.’

  Edd let out a long stream of air as he rubbed his eyes. ‘I don’t know what’s worse.’

  The hours after were spent revisiting the evidence they already had, while chasing up the evidence they’d yet to receive. Melanie cautioned the team against rushing DNA testing, but Fairer and Read were sent on their merry way for an update of general forensics found at the scene of Patrick’s murder. The remaining officers walked each other through their independent discoveries and made patchwork quilts of them over the course of the day, trying time and again to find a workable – and, more importantly, provable – theory.

  By the time Melanie came up for air and checked her watch, the team had worked well into early evening.

  ‘Christ, you all have homes to go to,’ she said, standing up from their new collaborative space; a paper-littered table in the centre of the room. ‘If you have any major breakthroughs, sleep through them and tell me in the morning,’ she half-joked, moving toward her office. Once inside, she packed as much paperwork as she could into her briefcase. It might be time to go home, she thought, but it wasn’t time to stop working.

  ‘If you need a hand…’

  Melanie looked up to find Carter and Burton standing in her doorway, both officers wearing expectant expressions. The DI smiled. ‘It’s a lovely offer, but what about Trish?’ she directed the question to Edd before turning to Chris. ‘And poor Joe?’

  ‘Please, a takeaway without me glaring in judgement? Joe’ll love it,’ Chris replied. The two women shared a smile before turning to Edd, ready to hear his excuse.

  He rubbed at the back of his neck and let out a half-laugh, but the noise sounded awkward and forced. ‘Things aren’t great at home,’ he said, not meeting the eyes of either women as he spoke, but Mel and Chris shared a private concerned look.

  ‘It’s unprofessional to hug,’ Mel said, a half-laugh emerging. ‘But are you okay?’

  Edd shrugged. ‘I’ve been better.’ He took a deep breath and announced, ‘Trish went on a bender, slept with a few blokes, took the joint account. Emily and I were on our own for about two weeks. Now Trish is back, and things are even harder.’ He poured the news out onto the floor of Melanie’s office, unable to hold the look of either of his colleagues.

  Chris silently reached across and set a hand on her colleague’s arm, pulling his attention up to her. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said, and he flashed a thin smile.

  Melanie heaved her packed workbag up from on top of her desk. She wanted to offer him comfort, to be a friend, but inside the station, she knew that their boundaries were clear. ‘We’re a sad lot, aren’t we,’ she said to break the silence and the group managed to share a laugh. ‘So, party at my house? I’ve got a fine selection of Chinese takeaways on offer.’

  The many evidence files that Melanie had smuggled home with her were spread out across her living room carpet, her fellow officers positioned around them, forming a triangle with her. They’d been jumping between images and documents for what felt like hours, and Edd was glad when the front doorbell sounded to signal the arrival of their dinner. The DS was the first up and off the floor, crossing the living room and darting through the doorway.

  ‘I’ll get food,’ he shouted back.

  ‘I’ll get plates,’ Chris said, and smiled at the DI who was still rapt with the image she was holding. The commotion of food arriving hadn’t disturbed Melanie, but the squeal of her mobile phone, ringing from somewhere inside her coat pocket, was enough to grab her attention.

  ‘I’ll get that,’ she said, noticing for the first time that the room was empty. She retrieved the handset from her coat, careless
ly draped over the back of a dining room chair. Private Number was branded across the screen, so the DI pulled herself back into professional mode to answer. ‘DI Watton.’

  ‘Hi there, it’s Kelly, Kelly O’Brien, from the forensics department.’ Melanie checked her watch. It was nearly eight in the evening. ‘I know it’s late,’ the caller continued. ‘But I was left with strict instructions to call you if something were to come back from the tests we’re running here and, well, something did.’

  Melanie sat down on the closest sofa. ‘Thanks for calling, Kelly. What do you know?’

  ‘The sample from the first and second murder, we were running a comparative analysis on them to see whether they were from the same donor, but obviously the first sample we had wasn’t substantial. Anyway, look, I’m not going into the science of it…’ Melanie felt a stab of gratitude. ‘But we managed to match them, the first and second DNA donation are from the same person, and we’ve profiled it back as belonging to a female.’

  Melanie grabbed at a piece of paper and wrote down. Female accomplice?

  ‘Jesus, okay, thank you for calling with this,’ the DI replied but the expert at the other end of the line picked up speaking again.

  ‘There’s more. Once we’d cleared up the sample, we ran it through the system to see if it pulled any matches.’ Melanie’s heartbeat was audible in her ears, the adrenalin, the sheer thought of a break in the case left the DI holding her breath in the hope that this was going where she expected it to.

  ‘Can you repeat that, please,’ Melanie asked, her excitement waylaying her understanding.

  This time Kelly spoke slowly, clearly. ‘I said, we got a match.’

  38