A Murderous Mind

by Jane A. Adams

  ‘Which doesn’t mean—’ Naomi started to object.

  ‘Which means only what I’ve just said,’ Alec said firmly. ‘Naomi, Tess, I was a very junior officer in a very big team. I saw what I saw and Joe Jackson appeared to be the one calling the shots. What DCI Frearson got up to behind the closed door of his office was an unknown then and it certainly is now. I think he wasn’t far off retirement at the time and I think he went back to wherever soon after the investigation began to wind down.’

  ‘And it remained an unsolved,’ Tess said.

  ‘Just like all the rest,’ Naomi added.

  ‘Just like all the rest.’

  TWENTY-TWO

  Tess returned to the office in sombre mood to find that DCI Field had returned from the post-mortem and was waiting to brief her.

  ‘The tox screen has yet to come back, of course, but the post turned up a couple of needle marks, one just below the chin and one beneath the armpit, so we can assume she was drugged and unable to fight back.’

  ‘Conscious?’ Tess asked. Her mouth felt too full of saliva and she tried hard to swallow it.

  ‘Until we know how high her cortisol levels were we won’t know for sure but—’

  ‘And do we know’ – perversely, her mouth had dried now, lips sticking to teeth. She tried again. ‘Do we know the order that the injuries occurred?’

  ‘From the preliminary analysis of the blood spatter it seems he cut her open first. Cut her throat after … the blood pressure had already diminished. She’d have gone into shock, her body would have been shutting down. Cutting the throat made the end quicker but it was already inevitable.’

  ‘She could still be alive through all that. Jesus! It doesn’t bear thinking about.’

  ‘Then don’t. Focus on what you can change, not what’s already gone.’

  She nodded automatically. It was good advice but she didn’t have a hope in hell of following it. She wondered if Field did either.

  ‘How did you get on with the Friedmans?’

  ‘Naomi is a bit touchy. Understandably, I suppose.’

  ‘Touchy? How.’

  Tess shrugged. ‘She and Joe Jackson had history before she joined up. When Naomi was twelve or thirteen her best friend was kidnapped and murdered. Naomi and Helen had been arguing and separated in a huff. Helen waited for her on the way to school the following day, but Naomi went another route. Helen disappeared, Naomi had a hard time forgiving herself. Joe Jackson helped her pick up the pieces, apparently.’

  ‘Ah,’ Field said. ‘And that’s the case that—’

  ‘That Joe Jackson is now a suspect in – for murder. He left a note of confession. It came to light after his death. His daughter brought it in and—’

  ‘And the famous Joe Jackson fell from grace – albeit posthumously. There were two killings linked to Jackson, weren’t there? The girl Helen Jones and a man. Wasn’t he supposed to have been the daughter’s boyfriend?’

  Tess nodded. ‘They were found at the site of two adjoining houses, they would have been new builds at the time. Helen in one, Robert Williams under the patio of the one next door. Williams was the older lover of Jackson’s daughter, Penny. It seems that Jackson tried to scare him off and when that didn’t work took more direct action.’

  ‘Right.’ Field was thoughtful. ‘Well, I’ll familiarize myself with the background but might it be a good idea to talk to the daughter as well. Penny Jackson might remember something, might have spoken to her father or overheard him talking to someone else.’

  ‘It’s a long shot,’ Tess commented, ‘I’ll track down a current address.’

  ‘You were telling me about the Friedmans.’

  ‘Um, yes. Alec, on the other hand … anyway, they both cooperated as best they could and I’m sure will continue to do so. But I’m not sure they can tell us very much. Naomi was not involved in the case at all and Alec was a very green, very new officer kept on the periphery.’

  ‘And I understand was not a Joe Jackson acolyte.’ He smiled. ‘I’ve been chatting to Sergeant Briggs.’

  ‘No, he was not.’ She hesitated. ‘Alfie … Sergeant Briggs … he’s—’

  ‘Internal Affairs will interview him on the record, but word is he’s not under any suspicion. Alfie Briggs was incidental to Jackson. Lacked the ambition and the drive to be of any interest. I don’t think he’s got anything to worry about and IA are in agreement that he’s more use to us than he is any kind of threat to integrity.’

  Tess bristled. ‘Alfie Briggs is the definition of integrity,’ she told him. ‘Right, well I’ll get all this written up and then get back to the case reviews.’

  She collected a coffee on the way and returned to the cramped little office in which the rest of the team were poring over the records.

  Tess flopped down in front of her computer and opened a new document, began to type up her conversation with Naomi and Alec.

  More paperwork, she thought, glancing round at the stacks and boxes already divvied up among her colleagues. More information, when they were already drowning in the stuff.

  TWENTY-THREE

  Nathan still had a few contacts left in the police force up and down the country, people he had worked with or who had worked for Clay or who owed Nathan or his one-time mentor a favour. It was not as easy as it had been when he had the full weight of Clay’s organization behind him but Nathan still had some leverage and by lunchtime he had a dossier compiled to show Gregory.

  Nathan watched as Gregory dug into his lunch and flipped through the photographs and preliminary reports.

  ‘Does nothing put you off your food?’

  Gregory had the grace to look slightly apologetic while he thought about that. Then he shook his head. ‘Sorry. Not really.’

  Nathan shrugged. ‘So, what do you think? What the killer did indicates experience. He was relaxed. There was no rush.’

  ‘No. This is not a first-time kill, that’s for sure. Not even a second or third, I’d say. So the question is, how many times before? We need to find that out and track the cold cases.’

  ‘What makes you sure they’d be cold cases?’

  ‘So cold they’re dead and buried,’ Gregory said. ‘Failure to find a murderer capable of this kind of callous, careful behaviour would be a career killer. Finding the killer, on the other hand, would make you untouchable even if you never got anything right again. So, he’s not been found yet, this is most likely not a copycat either.’

  ‘I agree,’ Nathan said. ‘Copycats generally rely on the media to give them the details of what they are emulating. I think we’d both have remembered if something like this had hit the media. I did a quick search, didn’t find anything that looked similar so far.’

  ‘My guess is that he operates at long intervals, and over a wide geographical area. And that the police keep the worst of the details out of the public domain.’

  Nathan nodded and took another bite of toast. ‘Chances are he’ll be satisfied for a while and there’s no danger to Patrick or his friends. At least we’ll be able to reassure Harry of that.’

  ‘On balance, that’s likely to be true. Chances are he’ll also hang around to watch the police operation. He’ll like to see what effect he’s had. That’ll be part of his game plan.’ Gregory flipped through the notes Nathan had managed to acquire. A summary of the crime scene reports and initial findings from the hastily arranged post-mortem. No tox screen yet, no blood work or chemical analysis. He turned one of the photographs around and peered closely at it.

  ‘Cause of death is currently presumed to be exsanguination,’ Nathan remarked. ‘What are you looking at?’

  ‘Her face,’ Gregory said. He put the image down beside Nathan’s plate and tapped at it with his index finger. ‘Look at the mouth.’

  ‘I don’t see anything?’

  ‘Exactly. If there’d been a tape or a gag, there’d be trace, there’d be abrasions, maybe traces of adhesive or even splits at the corners of her mouth if she’d stru
ggled against a gag. Which she would have done. Her friends heard nothing. He kept her quiet somehow. Not,’ Gregory added, ‘that any kind of gag would have shut her up. Not while he … well.’

  ‘She wasn’t dead when he cut her,’ Nathan observed. ‘The arterial spray hit the fucking ceiling.’

  ‘So, we hope she was at least unconscious, don’t we? She wasn’t able to struggle or fight back, that’s for sure.’

  Nathan looked again at the pictures and pushed his plate away. He nodded, not really trusting himself to speak. He was aware of Gregory watching him, observing the pallor and the reaction to the pictures. Not judging; Gregory was merely curious and, Nathan knew, also very conscious of the emotional responses that he found lacking in himself and that, on a purely intellectual level, he sought to understand. It wasn’t that Gregory was incapable of feeling. Gregory’s loyalty to friends was unparalleled. But, Nathan thought wryly, Gregory was still a bloody sociopath.

  ‘How many more,’ Nathan said. ‘And over what time frame?’

  ‘We can be certain there are a few and my guess is that this killer has as long a career behind him as I do. Think you’ll be able to get the tox reports when they come in? And a full post-mortem report?’

  As long a career, maybe, Nathan thought. He doubted he’d have left Gregory’s body count in his wake. ‘Probably,’ he said, in answer to the post-mortem question. ‘Gregory, Harry doesn’t need to know all the details of this. You do know that?’

  ‘I won’t tell him if you think I shouldn’t. But you’re forgetting Patrick. His friends found the body. They won’t be able to keep something like this to themselves.’

  ‘They’ll have been warned by the police not to talk about it.’

  ‘To keep clear of the press, certainly, but if you were a normal teenage kid and you’d seen something like this for the first time, who would you turn to? Would you be able to keep your mouth shut? Not relieve the pressure by talking to your friends?’

  ‘Fair point,’ Nathan conceded.

  ‘So his friends will talk to Patrick and Patrick will talk to Harry because that’s what he does. He and his dad are close. And he’ll know it’s alright to confide in Bob and Annie too, because they know about this kind of business. And they know how to keep their mouths shut.’ Nathan disagreed. ‘They know about violence, yes. Annie spent a good chunk of her childhood living in war zones and most of her adult life photographing them but this is something else. But you’re right. Patrick will see them as safe to talk to. But I think he might censor the details for Harry and frankly, I doubt his friends will want to describe a scene like this in detail. It happened to someone they cared about, Gregory. They’ll want to block as much as they can.’

  He could see Gregory considering all that. Finally the older man nodded. ‘I’ll give Harry a call later,’ he said. ‘He works away from home on a Thursday. I doubt he’ll want to be phoned while he’s bean counting.’

  ‘You memorized Harry’s schedule?’

  ‘And Patrick’s timetable,’ Gregory said.

  Nathan shook his head. ‘You just can’t help it, can you?’

  ‘It’s intel,’ Gregory said. ‘You can never have too much intelligence.’

  TWENTY-FOUR

  After Tess had gone, Naomi felt restless and irritable. Alec suggested a walk, but that wasn’t what she wanted either.

  ‘If we walk, we’ll just end up talking about this.’

  ‘If we stay here, we’ll just end up talking about it.’

  ‘I know, so what’s the point.’

  Alec took her hand and squeezed it gently. ‘I’m sorry,’ he said. ‘I know this must be—’

  ‘No. No you don’t. You have no idea how this makes me feel. You have no idea how bloody angry I am, how …’ She wasn’t sure what the ‘how’ was, just that she felt it. She pulled her hand away from Alec’s and got up, went to stand by the window as though staring out at the view.

  Naomi had moved here after she had lost her sight. The flat had been ideal, with its simple layout, small kitchen where she could have everything within reach and smooth wooden floors. The view from the window had been described to her by her sister, Sam. A narrow street of terraced houses, some larger, like this one on the corner that had been converted into flats and even holiday lets. A little playground where she could often hear the kids playing when the school day ended and, down the gap between her street and the one running crosswise to it, a glimpse of the promenade and the beach only five minutes’ walk away.

  The flat had felt safe. A security pad on the front entrance and then a key to her own, very solid, front door. It had felt easy and comfortable. It wasn’t the first time that the realities of the world had come crashing through into her sanctuary but this time it felt so much more personal. This was her past as well and not since that day, nearly four years ago when she had heard that Helen’s body had been found had she felt so exposed to it. So intruded upon. And somehow it didn’t help that Alec was now caught up in that intrusion.

  ‘Is there anything I can do?’

  Naomi frowned, suddenly irritated by the tone, by the fact that he really cared, that he was worried about her and equally irritated by how irrational that was. She should be glad that he understood or at least tried to understand the way she felt.

  She shook her head, wishing she could tell him to just go away and leave her alone for a while. Knowing that she couldn’t.

  ‘Look,’ he said. ‘I’m going to walk down to the shops, we’re short of milk and bread and … and other bits. OK?’

  She nodded, not quite trusting her voice, both annoyed and relieved that he should have read her so well.

  ‘Joe Jackson,’ Naomi intoned as she heard the street door slam shut. ‘Joe bloody Jackson.’ Dead and buried and yet still causing pain.

  She threw herself into her favourite chair beside the window and felt Napoleon nuzzling at her hand, upset that his people were unhappy. She stroked the silky head and closed her eyes leaving her mind free to wander. She had joined up after the Rebecca Arnold case had gone cold, but was surprised at how much she remembered of the atmosphere that still permeated. A skeleton team reviewed any new evidence that came in, but the Major Incident Team had been dissolved. It was still talked about, though. Officers that had been involved unable to let go, and Joe one of them, gnawing at the bones of the case, checking in almost daily with those still involved to see if there was progress.

  ‘We’ll get the bastard,’ he had told Naomi. ‘We’ll get him. He’ll make a mistake and I’ll be there.’

  ‘He’ll do it again, won’t he?’

  ‘They always do. His type, they can’t help themselves. It’s a compulsion, an addiction. It’s not like your common or garden murderer. He or she is focussed on the single reason – might be money, might be lust, might be that they feel someone’s done wrong to them, but it’s a single reason and a single victim. Bang, it’s done and the chances are they’ll never step out of line again.’

  ‘Murder isn’t exactly just stepping out of line.’ Naomi remembered being amused and a little bit shocked.

  ‘Compared to the likes of this bastard it is. This wasn’t passion or anger or desperation or misjudgement, even. This was planned. This was done just because the fucker wanted to do it. This is a whole different animal.’

  ‘Stepping out of line,’ Naomi said softly. ‘You certainly did that, didn’t you, Joe. How did what you did to Helen fit in with passion or anger or desperation. Was it one of your ‘misjudgements’? Fuck it, Joe, how could you do something like that? How does it make you any different from—’

  She shook her head, feeling the tears prick at the corners of her eyes. Even now she couldn’t believe that he had done it. Even now, with all the evidence, with the confession, with the finding of the body, she still couldn’t equate the Joe Jackson she had known with the murderer of her best friend. And the guilt of that was sometimes overwhelming.

  Naomi gave in. As she had done so often in
the past, she slid down from her chair and buried her face in Napoleon’s soft coat and she wept, bitterly.

  TWENTY-FIVE

  ‘There are six victims that we know about.’ Tess glanced up from her notes and surveyed the room. ‘As DCI Field has already told you, we’ll be bringing in a Behavioural Investigative Adviser and they’ll be able to talk through the possibility of other victims, but our initial assessment is that the killer’s behaviour at the first crime scene we are aware of is too practised and confident for this to have been a first run. For now, though, we’re taking it as our start point.

  ‘Victimology is inconsistent. There have been two males and three females, now four females including Leanne Bolter. I have to stress that even the collation of these cases is speculative. There are no, I repeat, no clear forensic links between the scenes, in fact our forensic information is very limited. The similarities between scenes, between the methods used to kill and a few more abstract features that may only link one or two of the murders are what bring these together. That being said, we have to start somewhere.’

  ‘Can I just ask?’

  Tess looked towards the speaker. It was Clem Boroughs, the red-headed DS who had come with the Internal Affairs squad. She nodded. ‘Go ahead.’

  ‘Who initially collated the files? Who made the initial selection; linked the investigations.’

  Tess took a deep breath. ‘That would, in part, have been DI Jackson,’ she said. ‘During the Rebecca Arnold investigation he submitted data to HOLMES and came back with a single link. To Martia Richter, the first known of our cases. When the new Home Office system came online in 2000, he resubmitted and two other cases were linked. Since then, with the final review in 2004, when all forces were linked up to the system, two other unsolveds have been added to the list. I’d recommend we stake another run at it now, the system has improved considerably since the last request was made, that was only three years ago, but you never know …’