by Diane Saxon
As Jenna sat, she narrowed her eyes at the good-looking man opposite. Almost a distraction, but she had a job to carry out and she’d do it with the utmost professionalism because that was the way she’d learned to do it.
She swiped up the disposable cup of coffee she’d been offered and took a decent gulp, almost spewing it back out as the sour taste hit the back of her throat and threatened to punch a hole in it with the strength of its acidity. Tears rushed to her eyes as she gulped the foul stuff past the blockage of throat muscles making their protest known. She covered her mouth with her hand as she gave a delicate cough to disguise the choking sound that wanted to burst out.
Sympathy swirled through Harper’s eyes as he picked up his unopened plastic bottle of mineral water and waggled it at her. ‘You may find this is safer.’ He pushed it towards her over the desk in a clear invitation for her to take it.
She accepted it and twisted the lid off. She took a swig, the sweetness of the water washing away the bitter taste of the coffee.
‘Thanks. I’ve had some bad coffee in my time, but I didn’t realise they’d replaced it with sulphuric acid.’
Harper raised a smile as she screwed the lid back on and placed the bottle to one side.
‘And thank you for agreeing to see us again. The last time was particularly unpleasant, so we do appreciate your co-operation.’
‘No problem.’
She needed to toe the party line, keep the interview formal, there was no space for personal likes or dislikes. ‘We realise that you are privy to certain information, which is confidential between yourself and your client, but I’m sure you appreciate also that we are investigating at this stage a second murder.’
A flash of surprise crossed his features before his mouth tightened and he nodded. ‘McCambridge is fully aware of my obligation to report any criminal activity or concern to the police. Inmates are informed of this before any counselling is started.’ Harper linked his fingers together and rested them on the table between them. ‘What happened?’
‘Yesterday evening we were called to attend another murder, which we believe, like the first, has a direct link to Paul McCambridge.’
Harper did nothing but nod his understanding, the tension in his jaw demonstrated the man’s own horror.
Jenna tapped the closed file she had on her desk. ‘If we can come back to that in a minute, I need to clear a couple of other matters up.’ It would give him a moment to settle. ‘When we attended the prison last, you saw the photograph we presented to McCambridge?’
‘Yes.’ His eyes met hers, direct, concerned.
‘Had you seen it before?’
‘Yes.’
‘Do you know the identity of the victim in the photograph?’ She continued to hold his gaze with her own.
‘I do.’ He nodded. ‘A Shirley Boswell, I believe. A young nurse aged twenty-three. It’s all in his file.’
‘Did you know that another photograph, one we never presented that day, but was in the file, one of the previous night’s victim, subsequently went missing?’
A quick flash of surprise lightened Harper’s eyes. ‘I had no idea. When did it go astray?’
‘During the time between us showing McCambridge the image of his fourth victim and us leaving the room. Effectively when he kicked off.’
Confusion flitted through Harper’s eyes as his brow dipped low. ‘I’m sorry. It was me who picked up all the paperwork, as far as I know. I handed it to you. I don’t think there was anything more.’
She regretted the guilt she inflicted on him, and the concern swirling in his expression, but she needed to know if he’d noticed anything. ‘You never saw anyone else pick up the photograph?’
‘No. It was all a bit manic. The guards…’ He put his fingers to his forehead and massaged there. ‘I can’t remember clearly, it went crazy, and when they left, all I could think of was to pick up the papers that were lying all around, stop people from skidding on them. It’s been a while since one of our residents kicked off like that. I like to stay neutral, so they don’t see me as an aggressor.’
‘Okay. Thank you.’
Jenna opened her file and stared down at the stack of notes in front of her. She flicked over the pages she’d marked with little vibrant orange sticky arrows until she came across the information she needed.
‘Mr Harper.’ She raised her head and smiled at him, her heart kicking up as he responded with a widening smile of his own and a friendly glint in his eye. ‘How long have you been counselling?’
‘Eight years.’
‘And of that eight years, how long have you counselled Paul McCambridge?’
Relaxed, he leaned back in his plastic chair and thought for a long moment before replying. ‘Approximately four years.’
‘Four?’
‘Yes. Possibly a little longer. Maybe five. Certainly, quite a time after I qualified.’
Jenna nodded and jotted down the information on the pad in front of her before she glanced back up. ‘How often do you see him?’
Comfortable and open, he spread his hands. ‘Approximately once a week.’
‘Approximately?’
‘Yeah. We get given a list. Sometimes it’s very long and we run out of time. Now that Mac is pretty well… was pretty well balanced, we don’t mind if he misses the occasional session.’
‘Because…?’
‘Because up until the other day…’ Harper made a soft clucking noise as he shook his head, ‘… he was what we considered stable.’
‘Mmm.’ She’d never seen anyone less stable in all her life, the manic light in McCambridge’s eyes had struck her the moment she met him. There’d been no room for misinterpretation. Concerned that Harper had misread the man for considerably longer than he should have, she leaned closer across the table, inviting him into her confidence. ‘Why do you believe he reacted in the way he did?’
‘He was disturbed.’
‘Disturbed?’
‘Yes.’ His smile tightened. ‘You gave him information that disturbed him. Provoked him.’
‘Okay. I made him uncomfortable, but actually I’d say he was already on the manic scale before we arrived. He’d obviously already been passed information.’
A flash of irritation sparked in Harper’s eyes, the first she’d witnessed, and she pushed a little harder.
‘Were you privy to that information?’
‘No.’ His gaze slid away from hers and then skittered back. ‘I knew he’d heard something. I had no idea what. I didn’t know the reason for your visit. They just asked if I’d sit in on the interview, that the police wanted some information from a past case. I’d only just arrived at Long Lartin. They should have called me beforehand, given me some warning.’ He leaned back and scraped his fingers through his thick, blond hair. ‘I had no chance to speak with Mac before you arrived, so I only just met up with him outside the interview room.’ Harper scrubbed his hands over his face. ‘I knew. The moment I saw him, I knew there was something wrong. I should have stopped it, not allowed the interview to take place. It’s not normally my decision to make. I’m only his counsellor, but…’ He lowered his hands, placed them palm down on the table. ‘I definitely should have made representation when I saw you.’
‘Me?’
‘A female. A cop.’
Jenna nodded to acknowledge the regret in his eyes. ‘Is that the way he shows his anger, his annoyance at something? Does he normally throw a tantrum?’
‘He’s been known to. Over the years, though, there have only been a handful of times he’s reacted in a similar fashion.’
‘Like when he attacked the governor?’
He hummed in the back of his throat. ‘Female.’
‘A figure of authority.’
‘A female figure of authority. He’s fine with the rest of the management here. It purely is women who pull his trigger. Each time, we need to desensitise him again and bring him back into the real world.’
‘Why females in
particular?’
Harper leaned back in his chair, raised his hand to his mouth and chewed at the skin at the side of his fingernail while he took a moment to consider what he wanted to say. ‘There were two major influences in his life. The first, his mother. A nurse. She dyed her hair red and wore pretty garish make-up from a child’s viewpoint. Bright blue eye make-up, brilliant red lipstick. Consistent with the early 1980s. From his account, there were only the two of them. She was a huge disciplinarian. Kept him in order with the back of her hand. When he was just seven, she committed suicide.’ Jenna had read it in McCambridge’s file, but she let Harper continue. ‘He considers her suicide the most self-centred, unforgiveable, inhumane act. Effectively, her death put him in the “system” and exposed him to the vilest abuse.’
Harper took a long pull of breath in through his nose as he dropped his hands back to the table. ‘This is where the second influence came in. Justine Elder. One of the foster parents. She put him through torture. Treated him like a little slave. Slapped him, punched him, bit him. Subjected him to untold abuse. Until the day he slashed her with her own kitchen knife.’ That too was in the file, but it was interesting to get it from a different perspective, not so clinical.
‘As an adult, McCambridge appeared to maintain control.’ Harper’s grin was sharp, full of sorrow. ‘He’s a psychopath. One day his fuse was ignited, the woman he’d dated for some time, a redhead, a nurse, suddenly exerted authority and he simply flipped.’ Harper raised both hands and scrubbed them through his blond flop of hair. ‘That was it. The start of his killing spree.’
Jenna nodded and closed her file. There was no need for it. It was all in her head. ‘Have you seen him since we last visited?’
Regret shimmered in his eyes. ‘Twice. I had very little response. He’s still heavily sedated.’
‘Solitary confinement, I believe.’
‘The inmates have single cells. It’s too much of a risk. They’re allowed to integrate during certain times of the day, but McCambridge has been confined since your last visit.’ There was no accusation, just a simple statement of fact. She already knew it, but she let him speak, it fell in line with everything she’d heard.
‘Is he particularly close to anyone?’
Harper shook his head. ‘Not to my knowledge, but then I only visit two or three times a week. Unless he mentions someone, I wouldn’t necessarily know.’
Jenna nodded her understanding. There wasn’t much more she needed from Denton Harper. ‘Thank you. I think that’s all for now, but I may have to come back if that’s okay with you.’
Harper reached across the table and placed his hand on hers. ‘That’s fine. He’ll never be released. You do understand.’ Concern filled his eyes. ‘We could never allow such a dangerous man back into the public domain. I would never put forward a recommendation to allow it.’
Aware of Mason’s keen attention, Jenna slipped her fingers from under Harper’s. ‘That’s good to know.’ McCambridge was a psychopath and true psychopaths could never be rehabilitated. Just managed.
She scraped the chair back as she stood. ‘Thank you for your help, Mr Harper. We really appreciate the time you’ve spent with us today.’ She extended her hand and shook his, acknowledging the gentle squeeze he gave to her fingers with a small smile.
32
Monday 10 February, 14:50 hrs
‘Well, if he doesn’t want to jump your bones, tie my hair back and call me Shirley.’
Jenna sighed. ‘You’re weird, Mason.’
‘So are you, if you missed an opportunity there. Even I think he’s hot.’
Jenna laughed. ‘Who says I missed an opportunity?’
Mason whipped his head around to stare at her and made her laugh again. ‘When did that happen?’ His eyes narrowed with suspicion. ‘Did he pass you his number when he did all that hand holding?’
A chuckle rolled out, Mason was good for her. He’d be even better for her sister. ‘No, he did when I met him in Sainsbury’s.’
‘You went to Sainsbury’s on a date, and you call me weird?’
With a full belly laugh, Jenna reached for the bottle of water and unscrewed the lid. ‘No, Fliss and I were shopping, and we just happened to bump into him.’
‘Happened to?’
‘Yeah, he was buying spaghetti, Fliss and I were feeding the five thousand.’ She shrugged in an attempt to hide the little shaft of pleasure. ‘He asked for my number. I gave it to him.’
Before Mason could reply, the door burst open and the slack bellied guard who’d been tethered to Paul McCambridge on their previous visit came into the room, all rolling shoulders and attitude.
Instead of standing and offering her hand, Jenna stayed where she was and flicked open her file containing the man’s details. ‘Good morning. Dennis Elks, isn’t it?’
In direct contrast to Denton Harper, the man grunted as he pulled out a chair and slouched into it, annoyance buzzing in every muscle.
Jenna leaned back and cast a glance up at the high window. Weak sunshine filtered through and she sighed. She could be out there. Instead of inside a prison with a dickhead of a prison officer determined to try her patience. Was it too much to ask for a little co-operation? They were supposed to be on the same side. Attitude a world apart from Harper’s, Jenna knew she was about to have a difficult time with the prison officer.
She turned her attention back to him. ‘We’ve met before. I’m DS Jenna Morgan and this is DC Mason Ellis.’
He let out another grunt and crossed his arms over his chest as he jutted his chin out.
Mason fidgeted in the seat next to her.
‘Dennis. Can I call you Dennis?’
‘Yeah.’
‘We’re here to talk to you about the incident last time we were here. When you accompanied Paul McCambridge into this room for questioning about a prior case.’
Elks snorted and shuffled further down in the chair.
Jenna sniffed and stared at the open file. ‘Dennis. Would you say McCambridge was already tense before we arrived the other day?’
The guard shrugged. ‘I hadn’t noticed.’
‘You hadn’t noticed. And yet you were tied to him.’
‘Yeah.’
‘It’s been pointed out that McCambridge was actually vibrating with aggression before he stepped into this room.’
Anger roiled in the guard’s eyes as he flashed her a glance.
‘What information had McCambridge received before we met with him?’ Jenna pressed.
Dennis shrugged again, unco-operative. ‘No idea.’
‘How long were you with him before we arrived?’
Sullen, his eyes went deadpan. ‘I don’t know.’
Jenna stretched a wide smile and leaned forward into his space as she tapped her finger on the table in front of him. ‘Have an educated guess, Dennis. Did you escort him through the hallways, or did you simply meet just before you came through the door?’
Dennis’s chin came up. ‘I escorted him from his cell.’
‘Right. How long did that take?’
‘Fifteen minutes.’
‘Fifteen minutes and you have no idea what McCambridge had heard? That’s hard to believe.’ She flipped over a sheet of paper and took out the photograph she’d shown McCambridge. ‘Have you seen this before?’
Elks shot her another derision filled look. ‘Yeah.’
‘The other one I brought with us when we last visited went missing. The one of the murder a few nights ago. Not McCambridge’s victim, but what we believe to be a copycat. That image went missing when McCambridge kicked off.’
The man bristled with indignation. ‘When you taunted him until he smashed me around the room like a fucking ragdoll.’
Bingo, the man had engaged. Ego, pride, insult. That’s what it was about.
‘I’m sorry about that. I’m sorry you got hurt. We had no idea he’d already been primed and what I saw as questioning, he clearly saw as incitement.’
‘It was incitement. You knew exactly what you were doing.’
She couldn’t deny it. ‘I wasn’t aware of his mental and emotional state. Surely you were?’
‘I knew he was excited about something. I had no idea what he’d heard, though.’
Elks’s shoulders came down as he started to relax, and Jenna slid her hand back across the table. ‘Did you see where the photograph went?’
‘No, I was too busy trying to get my breath back. The stupid fuckers.’
‘McCambridge?’
‘No. The other guards. They should have been there. The instructions are clear. McCambridge should never have been left on his own with just one guard. Never. He’s a fucking psycho. I don’t know how he swung it, but he managed to have security downgraded on your visit.’
News to her, Jenna scribbled a few notes. Interesting. She never bothered to take a sideways glance at Mason, she knew he would have got the significance. McCambridge had too much power. He should never have had access to the information he did, and he’d managed to downgrade his own guard duty.
Vibrating with anger, Elks hauled himself upright in the chair. ‘I’ve told them I won’t escort him again. He’s damaged my shoulder. I’m on the sick now. I only came in to see you.’
With sympathy in her voice now Jenna had him talking, she shot him a soft smile. ‘We could have come to your house.’
He jerked his head back. ‘What, and have the neighbours think the pigs have come to arrest me?’
Careful not to rise to his bait, Jenna backed off. They needed his co-operation as much as possible. ‘Of course.’ She took in a long breath and reached for her water before she backtracked. ‘Other than you, can you tell me if Paul McCambridge had contact with anyone else that morning?’
He shook his head. ‘Only his counsellor, but you know about him. Soft git.’
‘Denton Harper?’
‘Yeah, gives all the men the same nicey, nicey act. Easy enough for him, when they’re not fucking bolted to him.’
Surprised at his obvious dislike of the counsellor, Jenna made a mental note. It wasn’t unusual for counsellors to be disliked, but it was worth a deeper look into why Harper hadn’t been with McCambridge before their visit. If he’d had the opportunity to assess him, perhaps none of the events would have happened. He had said there hadn’t been enough time, but still…