by Ryan Casey
“I…Sorry I’m a bit late.”
She shook her head. “I get it. At least you’re not as late as you have been in the past.”
Brian could only grit his teeth.
They walked down the promenade. It was a grey, windy day, and the water in the docklands crashed against the sides of the walls as seagulls swooped down at scraps of food and disposed materials.
“How’s things?” Vanessa didn’t look at Brian. She sounded mechanical. Robotic. Strange, how one could go from talking to someone every day of their life to struggling to find the words to make conversation. Even small talk became a struggle.
“I’m all right,” Brian said. “The case is closed. We’ve got the–”
“Yeah. All over the papers.” Vanessa gestured towards the BetterLives office blocks in the distance. “Weird, isn’t it?”
“What’s weird?”
She let out a high-pitched sigh and slowed down as the wind plummeted against her, her hair flying from her head like a cape. “Just, well…That someone you think is a good person can be so…wrong.”
“I guess that depends on what your idea of right and wrong is.”
“Killing a girl is wrong, Brian. Don’t let your warped sense of morality get in the way of that.”
Brian began to boil over. “Hang on,” he said, before realising he was shouting. He couldn’t lose it in front of her. He knew what he’d look like–the psycho suicidal self-harming husband with a twisted idea of right and wrong. He cleared his throat, took a deep breath, and smiled. “I’m not saying it’s not wrong. Of course not. Just that maybe to Luther, what he was doing didn’t seem wrong. Killers, they work differently to you and me, but they don’t see themselves as the bad guys. They justify their actions. We’ll find a lot more out soon, anyway.”
“Do you think it’s him?” Vanessa stopped to lean on the railing. She seemed way too concerned about the case. Surely that wasn’t what they were here to discuss? He wanted to build bridges with her, put all of what had happened behind them. But she wasn’t letting it go.
“Well, it doesn’t matter what I think. The evidence points to it being him. He had a relationship with her. He bought her gifts. He kept all of that a secret.”
“Any DNA of his at the scene?”
“Yes, he…Look, why are you so concerned?”
Vanessa’s eyes narrowed and scanned Brian’s face pitifully. “Because I’ve seen what you’re like when you can’t let something drop, Brian.” She looked down at her feet.
Brian’s throat swelled up as he struggled to speak. “This isn’t like that,” he said. “I’m okay now. That’s finished. It’s–”
“Then why do you turn up late reeking of booze?”
Brian trained his stare on the ground. He wanted to tell her the truth. He wanted to spit it out to somebody. “I…How…How’s Davey?”
Vanessa raised her eyes to the sky as they resumed walking. They approached the steps guarded by a black metal railing, leading down to the water. “He’s good. Misses his dad. It’s hard trying to explain things to a boy that young. I know you think you have it rough but it’s almost harder being the one who is there sometimes.”
Was she screwing with him? He bit his lip and tried not to say anything. Harder being there for her son? She had no idea. Try telling him it was harder being there when she saw the state of his flat. Try living in that shithole and telling him it’s “harder being there”.
As they carried on, a flock of seagulls kicked up a fuss by the water’s edge as they battled for a piece of food. They swooped and flapped around before snapping at one another.
“You should come ‘round sometime,” Vanessa said. “Just to see Davey. We can go from there. Can’t we?”
Warmth grew in Brian’s stomach. “Yeah, that’d…” He stopped walking. “Is that…? Oh. Oh shit.”
Vanessa squinted and looked over at where Brian was staring. The seagulls were poking at something green. Squawking. Making a fuss.
“Yeah, I’m not…” Vanessa said, but Brian didn’t hear her. He’d already thrown himself over the metal railings and started running down the narrow, slippery concrete steps.
“Brian!” she shouted. “What the hell are you doing?”
Brian’s heart pounded as he fanned the seagulls away. They departed almost as soon as his shoes splashed against the waterlogged final step. He reached down into the water, sticking his hand into the jelly-like green substance, and then brought his hand up to his face to examine it.
Adrenaline rushed through Brian’s body. “Cyanobacteria…” he mumbled.
BetterLives offices stared over them.
“What?” Vanessa shouted. “Brian, come back, you’re–”
“Nicola Watson’s underwear.” Brian turned to look at his wife as the water engulfed his ankles and soaked the bottom of his trousers. “There were cyanobacteria in her clothes. Her underwear, it was…” The substance dribbled down his arm. He remembered Jeeves’ close-up photograph. The photograph with no explanation. “Blue-green algae.”
“You aren’t making any sense, Brian.”
“I think…I need to go to the station and have a word with someone.”
Chapter Twenty Five
Price sighed as he and Brian stood in the corridor outside the holding cells. His nose was even redder than usual, which was hard, considering it was practically purple every day. Little growls emerged from his throat.
“And you say you found it in the docks?” Price asked, holding the little bag of algae up into the light.
“Right by BetterLives HQ. I was with my wife, and…yeah. I saw some commotion and I–”
“What sort of commotion?” Price interrupted.
Brian cleared his throat. “Seagulls, Inspector. I saw some seagulls causing a bit of, um, commotion–”
“Do you always go chasing seagulls when you’re meeting the missus, Brian?” A normal man would have smiled. Winked. Given some sort of indication that he was joking. Price wasn’t one of those men. He waited, serious-faced, for an answer as Brian’s ears began to heat up.
“No. No, I don’t.”
Price grunted. “It’d explain a lot.”
“Look, I found this blue-green algae in the docks, and Jeeves found traces of blue-green algae in Nicola Watson’s underwear. Signs that she’d been in water. If I could just speak to Luther, this could all make so much more sense.”
Price raised his eyebrows. “I don’t see what else there is to say. We’ve got semen samples. We’ve got a confession that he was dating the girl. And now this, from right outside BetterLives HQ. It’s just an extra. Maybe they had a fight or something. Who knows?”
“It just doesn’t add up.”
“What doesn’t?”
“I just think it’s strange. Why would a man try to drown a girl and then take her to a brothel?”
Price shrugged. “We’ve got people at Luther’s at the moment–people inspecting his home and people inspecting his office. It’s not looking good for him. You should chill out. Go for a beer. You’ve done all right.”
“Did anything show up in his office? Wet clothes, anything like that?”
Price shook his head. “His office seems relatively clean, as is his house. The only wet clothes were inside the washing machine.”
“Wait–there were wet clothes in his washing machine?”
Price smiled. “Of course there bloody well were!”
“And did you have them checked? Did you–”
“There’s no need right now,” Price snapped. “We’ve got our man, Brian. We’ve got him. If we need to check some bloody wet clothes, we will, but right now, you need to let go. Go home, Detective. You’ve done great.”
Brian sighed, defeated. He’d be willing to wager a bet that those clothes had a trace of blue-green algae on them. The question was, why? He had the pieces of the jigsaw in front of him. If he could just speak to Lu
ther, he could slot it all together…
“Granted, you’ve pissed off the press and made the police look like fucking party poopers again, but it’s in the name of what’s right, eh?”
Brian couldn’t tell quite how much Price was joking and how much was deadly seriousness. “I need to speak to Luther, just for a few minutes. I know it’s not ideal, but anything I can learn about this, it’s for the better.”
Price sighed. He had nowhere to hide now. He needed to give Brian a straight answer.
“No,” Price said. “We formally charge Luther tomorrow. There’s no way I’m risking you meddling with the case on some hunch. We’ve made too many mistakes here, Detective Sergeant. Luther’s thirty-six hours of holding are almost up, and I am not applying to the Chief Superintendent for an extension, not with the bad rep we’ve been getting lately. We charge Luther tomorrow. Go home, Brian. Go home.”
Brian stood helpless as Price walked back inside his office. He turned around to the holding cells, where DC Carlton guarded the entrance. He had to speak to Luther. The blue-green algae wasn’t a coincidence. It couldn’t be. Maybe it just further implicated Luther, but Brian couldn’t shake the niggling feeling that there was more to it than first seemed.
What was Luther hiding? Brian looked down the corridor. A few officers walked by, engaged with their own work. Price’s office door was shut. If Brian knew the Detective Inspector as well as he thought he did, he wouldn’t come out of that office for anybody at this time of day. Mealtime.
“Fuck it,” he muttered under his breath as he headed towards the holding cells.
DC Carlton smiled at Brian as he approached. “DS McDone. How’s the case coming along?”
Brian stopped beside him and leaned against the door to the holding cells. Luther’s was on the far right. “Not bad, not bad. How’s things with you these days?”
Carlton chuckled. “All’s good in the hood, as they say!”
Brian laughed in return. Carlton was a wet lettuce of an officer, an absolute suck-up to anybody and everybody. He was friendly, but just too friendly for this game. If Brian couldn’t fool DC Carlton into leaving his post for a few minutes, then he couldn’t fool anybody.
“Glad to hear it. Say, you don’t mind grabbing me a pasty from the shop, do you? I’ve just realised I’ve got some reports to log. Don’t want to risk the wrath of the powers above, huh?”
DC Carlton shuffled his feet and looked around. “Well, I’m not supposed to leave, but–”
“Don’t worry. I’ll keep my spare eye on the cells. Leave the keys with me just in case, if you want?”
“Well, I…Okay, okay. Meat and potato?”
Brian paused for a moment as Carlton handed him the keys. He was gullible, but this? “Ask for gluten-free meat and potato, please. Failing that, a chicken tikka wrap. Failing that…well, just leave it for now, okay?” He smiled at him. He’d bought himself as much time as he possibly could. Was there even such thing as gluten-free meat and potato? What even was gluten, anyway?
DC Carlton nodded and then scooted off from his post, whistling away as he walked.
When Carlton turned the corner, Brian did a final scan over his shoulder then sneaked through the door to the holding cells.
He kept his head down as he walked towards Luther’s cell. He couldn’t actually believe how easily he’d managed to get in here. Poor DC Carlton, at the food counter pleading for gluten-free meat and potato just to put a smile on Brian’s face.
Brian turned back ‘round as he slipped the key for Cell 241 into the door. If Price found out, he’d eat him alive. But they didn’t have much time, and there were things he needed to understand, things that could aid the case. He held his breath and turned the key.
Luther was slumped on the bed wearing his blue pyjamas. He barely reacted to Brian’s entrance. His typically well-groomed face had turned a shade of grey, like a dead fish. His hair, usually so slick and parted in the centre, drooped from his head in a grimy, tangled mess.
“Mr. Luther.” Brian edged towards the middle of the room.
“Detective.” Robert tilted his head up and puffed out his chest as if to cling to some sort of dignity. He was emasculated, totally ruined, as he sat on the edge of that bed. He wasn’t even trying to fight.
“Sleep well last night?”
Luther’s disdainful eyes narrowed. Stupid question. Did anybody ever sleep well in here? Brian certainly didn’t. He’d done his fair share of time in holding cells when he was younger–drunk and disorderly, and the like. No matter how tough he might have appeared to his friends, it terrified him every single time.
“Look, I can’t stay for long, but there’s something I found that I was wondering if you could tell us anything about.” Brian crouched beside Luther.
“Is it going to prove my innocence?”
“It will help advance the case.” Brian pulled the blue-green algae sample out of his top pocket and slipped it into Luther’s hand.
Luther moved his thumb over it, his eyes focused on the sample, paying attention to every little crevice.
“Cyanobacteria, also known as blue-green algae. We found it in the docklands opposite BetterLives HQ. It was also in Nicola Watson’s underwear. Why would it be there?”
Luther slowed down his investigating of the algae sample and smirked. “Of course. More evidence from your guys. That’s all you want from me, to use me and destroy me.”
“It is pretty conclusive,” Brian cut in. “Traces of you inside her. A clear motive. And now this. Bacterial evidence that Nicola Watson was in the water right beside your little HQ. Yet you still claim you’re innocent.”
“I don’t argue because you’ve already done all the damage you possibly can. Say it turns out I didn’t kill her. Say you find something else out, and you release me, and if I am innocent–then what? What do I have to go back to? BetterLives is ruined. My friends won’t be able to look me straight in the eye again. I’m finished…”
Brian smiled. “You say if you’re innocent. Doesn’t sound like a man with a lot of faith in himself.”
Luther wiped his eyes and shook his head. “You police officers and your way with words…”
Brian stood up and circled Luther. “Look, Robert. I don’t have long here. Either you tell us what’s going on concerning the water, or you don’t. You were in a relationship with her. She turned down your proposal. And who knows what happened next? But Nicola Watson was in the water that night. And you know something about that, don’t you?”
Luther’s gaze danced around the cold, hard floor. He sighed and scratched at his arms.
“Did you push her in? Is that it? Tried to drown her but couldn’t quite bring yourself to finish the job? Did you dump her in your nice company car and have her ditched at the brothel? Is that it?” Brian leaned in and studied Luther’s evasive face. “Did you just want to see what it might feel like to kill her? A test run? Hmm? See what that power felt like? See if you had it–”
“I saved her life, okay?” Robert shouted. Saliva dribbled down his mouth, his eyes bloodshot. Somewhere behind Brian, the door swung open and a guard barged into the cell.
“Come on,” he said to Brian. “You shouldn’t be in here.”
Brian held his arm up to block the guard’s grasp. “Wait. What did you say?”
Luther rested his head in his hand. “I…I saved her life.”
Brian frowned. “What do you mean, Robert? Come on, I don’t have all day.”
Robert stood up. He took deep breaths and tried to calm himself, but his hands and chin still shook with nerves. “That night. The night it happened. She came to me after I’d had a few drinks at the staff gathering. It was late–no later than she usually saw me–but something didn’t seem right. She was distant, and…and she was trying to tell me something, I think.”
Brian scurried around in his pocket for his diary. He shoved the guard away from him. “What was she trying to tel
l you?”
“I don’t know.” Luther looked Brian in the eye. “She was kind of ranting. Going on about something she’d found out and something the world needed to know, and how she wasn’t sure if I could find out yet. I told her to stop being stupid. I was cold. I was cold because I was worried someone would see her there in my office and get suspicious.”
“Come on now, McDone,” the guard said. “I won’t tell you aga–”
“Shut up,” Brian said, turning to the guard. “Can’t you see? This is fucking important, all right?”
The guard backed down, cowering. Showed him for what he really was.
“What does this have to do with the water?”
Luther slipped his fingers through his hair again. “She left. And then I saw her on the edge of the docklands. She was going to jump. And then…she jumped.”
Butterflies tickled Brian’s stomach. “She tried to kill herself?”
“I don’t know,” Luther said. “I don’t know. But if I hadn’t gone down there…If I hadn’t jumped in and got her out, she’d have frozen. Or died.”
“Why didn’t you tell us about this earlier?”
“Because I knew this would happen. I knew it would all point back to me and ruin the charity anyway, so I just couldn’t risk that. Our charity and the implications of our relationship…I was scared. I was just scared.”
“Okay, okay.” Brian’s head spun with theories. “Where did she go after you got her out of the water?”
Luther looked cooler now, and his hands no longer shook. “She came back to the offices. We sat and had a drink to warm up. Didn’t talk, just sat.”
“And this was at what time?”
“Around twelve. Around then. I’m not sure. It was a blur. I was tired. Bit shocked.”
Twelve. So close to the murder. So, so close to the time of death.
“She was worried about someone. She said someone was after her. Then that was it. She went.”
“What do you mean she ‘went’?”
“I was going to order her a cab, but it was late and the rates were expensive, so I had one of our drivers take her home. That’s the last I saw of her.”