Mirror Man

by McIntosh, Fiona

  ‘I’ll let you know.’

  She kicked off her heels and clicked the Do Not Disturb sign on her door, then moved to her cabinet and picked up a small crystal glass, which she filled with a generous couple of inches of Brian’s sherry. It wouldn’t hurt, and there was no public work for the rest of the day. She would go home shortly but for now she just wanted to sit quietly, let the light stream in and around her, and contemplate the end of a relationship and the beckoning of a new life.

  She settled back onto the sofa, not resisting the urge to curl her long legs up. She rested on an elbow, looking out to where the trees surrounding the Crown Court dappled the sunlight that would soon be warm enough to bronze her skin. She held the glass and let the light glimmer through the rich raisin-coloured syrup, sparking the bonfire of its lustre as Brian had mentioned. ‘To you, Brian Jarvis,’ she said. Moira Leland sipped and sighed with pleasure that it tasted every bit as exceptional as he’d promised.

  Jack and Kate were holed up in his office, waiting for the others to gather for the debrief.

  ‘Do you know what’s nagging me?’ Kate said, leaning back in her chair.

  ‘Go on.’

  ‘The phone call that Mirror Man makes after killing Peggy Markham. Could be the same person who helped with the car after the Brownlow death . . . an accomplice?’

  ‘Apart from the car business I don’t understand why he needs one,’ Jack said.

  She shrugged. ‘Someone who understands, helps with his conscience. Perhaps there’s someone who sympathises . . .’

  ‘And does what? Research?’

  ‘Potentially.’

  ‘The only valuable accomplice that a serial killer might need is another sympathiser, as you say, but that person has to be useful or they are simply a liability.’ He shrugged. ‘Logistics?’ He shook his head at the thought. ‘No. The accomplice has to be able to somehow deliver details of his victims to him before anyone else.’

  Kate sighed. ‘So that someone would have to be on the inside.’

  ‘Not police,’ Jack said, emphatically.

  ‘No, but from the system. Jarvis would certainly need to know information from prisons.’

  ‘He could find that out easily enough just using his own name.’

  ‘Shall we test it?’ Kate asked. ‘How about you ring Paxton’s prison? Can we find anyone who spoke to Brian Jarvis? I’ll ring the prison for Robbins.’ She left, leaving Jack to make the call. When she returned he looked back at her, resigned.

  ‘No one knows the name Brian Jarvis, or at least no one’s saying they do. I spoke to the governor and his third in command. They’re going to ask the deputy governor as a matter of course. He’s somewhere in the prison.’

  ‘I drew a blank with the name at Wakefield. I mean, we could keep pushing down through the hierarchy?’ She shrugged.

  Jack shook his head. ‘Okay, so let’s say Brian Jarvis has an accomplice. What if—’ His mobile rang. ‘Hawksworth?’ He listened. ‘Does he recall who?’ He sat forward and nodded at Kate. ‘You’re sure?’ He paused. ‘Okay, well, thank you. I, er, was just dotting some i’s and crossing some t’s,’ he said, making it sound routine. He rang off and stared at Kate with a pensive expression. ‘Apparently, Moira Leland spoke with the deputy governor at Pentonville.’

  ‘Judge Leland,’ Kate repeated, surprised. ‘The accomplice?’

  ‘Let’s go through your meeting with her again. Facts aside, give me your feelings from that meet.’

  Kate shook her head as if not wishing to believe where they were being led. She fought it. ‘You really think a judge is involved in these murders?’

  He held her gaze and his look said why not?

  ‘Fuck, Jack!’ Fortunately, she lowered her voice at the expletive.

  ‘Is it so far-fetched?’

  ‘But she’s the one banging them up.’

  ‘She’s also the one giving the lightest sentences.’

  Kate’s look slid across him with a mix of awe as much as horror. She blew out a groan of disbelief. ‘She fits the smudgy figure in the CCTV at Portsmouth.’

  ‘Okay, let’s go through it. We’re alleging the Mazda was parked in Portsmouth and then picked up by a woman.’

  Kate listened with obvious forced patience. ‘Right.’

  ‘What do we know about that woman?’

  ‘Taller than Jarvis. Slim.’

  ‘Leland?’

  ‘Would fit that description . . . but then so would I.’

  ‘I accept that. Next, according to Bernie Beaton, the killer rang someone – has to be some sort of accomplice – to let them know the ugly deed was done.’

  ‘And how do you draw the line from there to Judge Leland?’

  ‘Well, they haven’t told the truth about how friendly they actually are, and because of something you said earlier. You described her as implacable, elegant, entirely in control.’

  ‘Yes, qualities you’d anticipate in any Crown Court judge.’

  ‘But our antennae should certainly twitch that she was as rattled as you describe at the mention of Brian Jarvis.’

  ‘Couldn’t it have just been shock? It would be like one of us learning that, oh, I don’t know . . . Joan was under suspicion of serial killing.’

  ‘Perhaps. You said she played it very casual about Jarvis, as if they barely knew one another.’

  ‘True. She said she didn’t know him very well but the other clerk . . .’

  ‘Shirley.’

  ‘Yes. She gave me the impression that they know each other well, often take coffee breaks together and so on.’

  Jack looked away and sighed. ‘So we’ve potentially caught her in a lie about her relationship with Jarvis; she fits the build of our shadowy figure on CCTV; we know he called someone.’

  She frowned. ‘All right. And we should add that she’s super touchy about sentencing.’

  ‘Go on.’

  ‘It’s her soapbox. I mean, I know it’s ultimately her responsibility to pass the sentence, but I could tell she’s determined not to let her sentences be interfered with once passed. So she leans towards being lenient, is quite public in her belief, and that means other officials are less likely to tamper with her already known to be lenient sentences.’

  Jack watched her and let a silence stretch. ‘Okay, let’s flip that,’ he said. ‘She deliberately sentences as lightly as she dares. In order to . . . what?’ He stared at Kate with such ferocity she could feel it like pressure within.

  ‘In order to guarantee they’ll be out as fast as possible – especially if they are given an early release.’ Kate looked horrified by her own statement.

  Jack wasn’t finished. ‘So that . . .?’

  ‘Oh, come on, Jack.’

  ‘All right, I’ll say it. So that her accomplice, Brian Jarvis, can pick them off and render absolute justice that I suspect they both believe in for these offenders.’

  Kate leaned her head onto one hand in despair. She needed a moment or two to process this terrifying notion they’d aired. She looked up. ‘I liked her.’

  He shrugged. ‘I’m testing a theory with you.’

  ‘Do you believe it?’

  Jack nodded unhappily. ‘Yes. The reason we’re struggling is that, deep down and morally, we agree with her. I want us to look into Judge Moira Leland more closely.’

  She nodded. ‘I’m on it. What about you?’

  ‘I want to find out more about the Jarvis family, plus I need to organise a farewell gift for my friendly criminal psych.’

  Kate gave him a sad smile. ‘Not seeing each other again?’

  He shook his head. ‘It’s too hard.’ He placed his hands on the desk with finality as if drawing a line under Anne McEvoy’s involvement. ‘Where are this elusive daughter and those granddaughters of whom he talks so highly but has no photographs? Meanwhile, as far as the judge goes, let’s explore the husband’s death . . . anything suspicious, anything untoward.’

  Kate stood, sighing at the damning j
uncture they found themselves at. ‘Fucking hell.’

  A tin was rattled in the near distance.

  ‘This has arrived for you, McEvoy,’ one of the prison officers said, finding her in the library. ‘The powers that be tell me I’m allowed to give it to you.’

  Anne could see what they were immediately.

  ‘Sorry we had to open the wrapping. Looks like your Detective Superintendent is genuinely a secret admirer, eh?’

  Anne shrugged with a smile; she had no intention of sharing any truth with the prison officers. She had a good relationship with them, mostly because she gave them no lip, no trouble and could talk down an angry inmate with solid regularity. With that trust and reliability came certain easing of rules. ‘I suspect this could be the last, so I don’t think I’ll be sharing these.’ She grinned more widely. ‘Unless you would like one, Officer Wright?’

  ‘They’re all yours and you could use the fattening.’

  Anne smiled. There was no note, but only one person knew how much she loved Thorntons chocolates. While she waited for her group to assemble, she might just open them and enjoy a rare treat. She couldn’t resist unwrapping the paper, inside which she found a gift box with a double layer of drawers that pulled out from the front once the lid was lifted. Inside was the premium collection of Thorntons’ continental range. It was over the top – definitely a fond farewell from the only man she’d ever loved. She selected a favourite, one called Apricot Danish, which was a blend of the fruit with hazelnuts and croquant within a parfait. It was scrumptious. She couldn’t stop at one as she moved around the library setting up for a group therapy session; she really didn’t mean to eat quite as many as she did.

  By the time her group arrived, there were half-a-dozen empty spaces across both layers of the chocolates.

  ‘Come on in, everyone. Good to see you . . .’ She felt behind her for her chair, landing not quite evenly on the seat. ‘Gosh, I really shouldn’t have been so greedy. The sugar’s gone to my head.’

  Jack made the decision that he would be arresting Brian Jarvis by tonight, with the hope of charging him with the series of murders. He gave the team three more hours to assemble sufficient evidence so he could feel confident in an arrest rather than simply formally detaining the clerk of the court.

  At a knock, he looked up to see Ali. ‘News?’

  ‘Yes, sir. I’ve finally confirmed that Brian Jarvis is a lifetime member of the Tottenham Hotspur Football Club.’

  Jack felt like Rocky for a moment when he stood, both fists in the air like a champion. ‘Yes! Ali, good work!’

  ‘Thank you, sir. He also did purchase the limited special edition holdall.’

  He blew her a kiss. ‘Excellent. Go and help Kate – she’s on a mission and we don’t have much time.’

  Ali disappeared and Jack made a mental note to discuss her career trajectory with those who could influence it. She was diligent – a little terrier – and she was modest. She hadn’t hung about for praise; he admired that. He would help her on that journey to Detective Constable, which he had already heard through Mal was her goal.

  A familiar anorak moved past his line of vision. ‘Sarah?’

  ‘Yes, sir.’ She arrived at his doorway.

  ‘On the occasions you’ve met Brian Jarvis, did you notice his shoes?’

  She blinked in thought and didn’t seem for a moment to consider this an odd question. ‘I noticed he was a smallish shoe size. I believe he was wearing a pair of brown shoes when I noted that.’

  Jack dug around his desk, looking under files until he found the colour photocopy. ‘Like these?’

  She leaned in and nodded. ‘Possibly. Yes, certainly that sort of comfy shoe.’

  ‘Great. Right, Sarah, two things. First, can you find out where Jarvis’s daughter lives? We need to talk to her about how her mother died. Can you also find out where Brian Jarvis is right now, please?’

  ‘Will do.’

  He stood and followed her out into the incident room. ‘Mal?’ Realising that Mal was speaking on the phone, Jack gave an apologetic gesture. He waited. ‘Sorry.’

  ‘Guv?’

  ‘The blue Mazda hatchback?’

  Mal nodded.

  ‘Can you get the reg? And I think we should find out if Judge Moira Leland has a blue Mazda hatchback matching our description parked anywhere around, close to, or below her block of apartments. Kate has her address.’

  ‘On it. By the way, that was confirmation from our friendly roadside chemist. He picked out Jarvis from three photographs.’

  ‘Oh, bloody good work, Mal. Right, listen up, everyone,’ he said loudly into the room. All eyes rested on him. ‘Through your diligence, our net is closing fast around Brian Jarvis. I would say within the hour we will be arresting him. Just a few more comprehensive and damning items to gather in. Kate?’

  ‘Nearly there,’ she said, turning back to the phone call she was on. ‘I’m just holding on for some info.’

  He nodded and his phone rang. It was Lauren. ‘Hello there. Everything okay?’ He glanced at his watch. It was nearing five.

  ‘Yes, all fine. How are you doing?’

  ‘Pretty good, actually.’

  ‘Oh, you sound chirpy.’

  ‘I’ll tell you more tonight.’

  ‘Ah, that’s why I called. Can we make it a tad later?’

  ‘Sure. Better offer?’

  ‘Hardly.’ She laughed. ‘I’m just doing one quick interview, which is conveniently in my own backyard of Bayswater, but it might run a little over.’

  ‘It’s not a problem. Look, I’ve got to dash – things are heating up. Text me when you think your interview is wrapping up.’

  ‘Okay. Thanks, Jack. Can’t wait.’

  Kate nodded at him as he rang off.

  ‘Gather round, everyone,’ he called out. ‘Kate?’

  ‘Thanks. Well, the plot is definitely thickening. Judge Moira Leland’s husband did not die of cancer as people have been led to believe. He was killed, aged forty-five.’

  Jack blinked, feeling the tingler within tighten.

  ‘Jeremy Leland was involved in a tragic hit-and-run in the early evening of July 1995. He was out jogging when a couple of joy-riders, high on drugs, were tearing up some rubber at the same time. Police gave chase, and Mr Leland happened to be running across the road at a pedestrian crossing as they ran the lights. He was smashed into the bollards in the middle of the road and died of massive internal bleeding before the paramedic team could reach him. According to the pathology report, most of the bones in his torso were smashed or fractured, his skull split as well.’

  There was silence. Jack punctured it. ‘What happened?’

  ‘They actually handed themselves in, which helped their cause. The driver got eight years for dangerous driving and only served four. His companion got three years and was out in sixteen months. Judge Moira Leland gave up working for one year, returning to the Crown Court in North London to pick up her career again. She has famously been quoted as saying she didn’t believe a harsher sentence would have served any purpose as it couldn’t give her Jeremy back.’

  Jack nodded. ‘Okay, everyone, we are looking seriously at Judge Moira Leland as an accomplice to Brian Jarvis.’ He quickly explained his rationale, which brought a taut silence to the room. ‘We can certainly hypothesise that she has motive. Now we need proof of her involvement with Jarvis. We hear they are very friendly, but both deny it. We know he made a call to someone after killing Markham. Did Brian Jarvis call Moira Leland directly after Peggy Markham’s death? Mal, any luck on that car yet?’

  ‘Not yet, boss. We should hear back any minute.’

  He nodded. ‘Sarah, your turn.’

  ‘Right,’ she said, pushing her glasses up her nose. ‘Brian Jarvis does indeed have a daughter and granddaughters, but they are all dead.’ A gasp sounded around the room and Jack swallowed; he’d suspected something like this but to hear it confirmed was chilling. Sarah was always at her most blun
t when she was excited, like now.

  He cleared his throat. ‘Go on, Sarah.’

  ‘Um, I have discovered that the Jarvis family has always owned the house in Enfield but, when his daughter got married, Jarvis took up a position at Bristol Crown Court and he and his wife moved there and rented out their second home. His daughter and her eighteen-month-old twin daughters came for a visit from Hove and they all went out for an evening stroll around the local green. It was a cold, slightly misty night. Kevin Dewsbury, twenty-six, well over the limit on alcohol, cleaned them up in his Land Rover, hitting Brian’s wife first. She was flung against a brick wall and succumbed at the scene to the main head injury she sustained. The twins died instantly, still strapped into their twin pram, when he reversed into them. As he drove away, he dragged Brian’s daughter beneath the car for several metres. That happened in April 1992. Jarvis took leave of absence, as far as I can tell, and resurfaced in March 1993 back at the family home, taking up his present position at the North London Crown Court.’

  Jack joined the dots. ‘But he’s obviously not shared this information with his colleagues. And because he took up a new role well away from his dramatic past, he was not recognised more than a year later.’

  ‘There’s more, sir. The drunk driver was a very well-known footballer and had a heavyweight legal team representing him. They argued everything from his team losing two of its members in a helicopter crash the previous fortnight, to the sudden infant death of his newborn, to the misty night and the two women in dark clothing as mitigating circumstances. He got a suspended sentence and four-hundred hours’ community work.’

  Another gasp rippled through Jack’s team. He looked down with disgust at the news as Sarah continued.

  ‘Finally, Brian’s real name is Colin Jarvis, but he changed it by deed poll in that interim period after his family’s deaths, taking his middle name of Brian to deliberately distance himself from the tragedy, media attention, et cetera.’ Sarah looked up from her notes. ‘So that added yet more space between his previous life and the one he lives now. Unsurprising that none of his colleagues seem to know his history.’

  ‘Good work. Right, everyone . . . now we have motive. It’s thin, because not everyone who loses someone turns into a killer, but I’d stake my life on it that both Jarvis and Leland are highly motivated. They have both had very real trauma in their lives that is relevant to their daily work and the criminals who pass through the North London Crown Court. I believe firmly now that Judge Leland has made it easy for Jarvis to pick off the violent offenders. She sentences as lightly as she dares, while he bides his time until the system either lets them out early, which seems to be the norm today, or, if they do their full time, he picks them off then.’