The Domino Killer

by Neil White

  ‘We’ve got the job of digging into that side of his life.’ Charlotte said. ‘At least we get a trip out of the office. We’ll speak to the people he worked with, his friends, see if we can find a darker side his wife doesn’t know about. Drink that and we’ll go.’

  Sam raised his cup in agreement, but his mind was a long way from a man battered to death in a park. He was thinking about Mark Proctor, and what he could do to track him down.

  Twenty-five

  Joe was nervous as he walked towards his office. This was the moment he’d been putting off: admitting the secret he’d held for so many years to the one person who should have known all along.

  He turned round to look at the scene around him. The gardens, the rhododendron bushes blossoming over the metal railings, the slow bustle of people, men and women in dark suits, some carrying coffee, others grabbing a last cigarette before the office confines stubbed out their habit for a few hours. White sash windows in brick fronts. This was his day, the scene that greeted him most mornings, but everything seemed different somehow. And it was because of Mark Proctor. This was where he became real, all of his details in a slender file. His address. His signature.

  He looked up at the building. Gina was watching him from a window.

  Marion greeted him in the usual way as he breezed past. ‘Can you call Gina and ask her to go to my room,’ he said to her and then took the stairs two at a time. When he got to his room, he leaned back against the doorjamb, his heart pounding. As he heard her footsteps in the corridor, he stepped away from the door.

  When she came in, she held up two files and said, ‘Your clients for the morning: an assault outside a restaurant, some road rage thing, two men who wouldn’t walk away. And I’ve arranged a prison visit for you later. Someone who reckons he was fitted up by someone to take the blame for a murder.’

  ‘I’m not interested.’

  Gina frowned. ‘You all right, Joe? I saw you walking in. You looked agitated.’

  ‘We need to talk.’

  ‘What’s going on? When you get like this, it’s usually bad news.’

  ‘This isn’t about me,’ he said. ‘It’s about Ellie.’

  ‘Ellie? I don’t understand.’

  Joe took a deep breath. This was it. Once he said it, there was no going back.

  ‘You said yesterday that there were no suspects for Ellie’s murder,’ he said. ‘I want to know the truth. You weren’t holding back to protect yourself, or the investigation?’ Joe tried to bore into Gina’s eyes, to gauge her response. ‘I don’t mean lines of inquiry; I mean actual suspects. Anyone you think might have done it but just couldn’t prove it?’

  Gina flushed, her eyes angry. She took a deep breath before speaking slowly and deliberately. ‘You’re accusing me of lying to you about Ellie’s murder. I’ve never done that. She was your sister so I’ll let it go, but don’t ever accuse me of lying again. We’ve known each other too long for this.’

  ‘Thank you, I believe you,’ he said.

  ‘Ellie’s case was one of the most frustrating investigations I’ve ever been involved with,’ Gina continued. ‘It was a horrible crime, sick and depraved, and whoever killed her was bound to do it again. It wasn’t just that, though, because all murders are horrible, a waste of a life. Ellie’s youth just made it more so. No, it was the emptiness of the investigation, that there were no good leads at all. It was impossible to track down any cars in the area because it was just after school closing time, so there were cars everywhere. There were people everywhere, it seemed, except down that path where Ellie was murdered. I’m sorry, Joe.’ A pause, and then, ‘What’s this about? Why now?’

  Joe thought about how to phrase it, and realised that there was no other way than directly. ‘There was an eyewitness. Me.’

  Gina opened her mouth as if to say something but stopped and cocked her head. ‘What do you mean?’ she said eventually.

  ‘I saw him. I was walking home from college and Ellie was walking in front of me. She was some distance away. She had her headphones on and I didn’t want to walk with her anyway. It was my eighteenth birthday; walking with my annoying little sister wasn’t on my list for the day.’

  ‘Joe, I don’t understand.’

  ‘I watched her head into that wooded path, where we’d always told her not to go. There was a man there, in a hooded top. He looked at me and then followed Ellie down the path.’

  Gina’s mouth hung open, her eyes wide in disbelief. ‘Joe?’

  ‘I faltered. I should have followed her, because I felt uneasy, but then I told myself that she’d be all right. She was so close to home. Why would she be at risk?’

  ‘I can’t believe you’re telling me this.’ Her hands were on her hips. She was shaking her head, her cheeks flushed. The steady tick of the clock filled the tense silence until she slammed her hand on the desk, making Joe jump and look at her. ‘You should have told me!’

  ‘Do you think I don’t know that?’ he said. His throat tightened and the sharp sting of tears made him blink. ‘Don’t you think I wish I’d done it differently, that I hadn’t been such a coward back then, more worried about being blamed than finding her killer? But it wouldn’t have brought her back. I was just a kid; eighteen was just a number. I was scared, and because I stayed quiet then, I’ve been tormented by it ever since. Nothing you can say will hurt me more than my own thoughts.’

  ‘What about the fact that you might have allowed him to kill again?’ Gina said, her voice rising. ‘People like Ellie’s killer don’t do something like that as a random act, a one-off, an experiment. They build up to it, spend years fantasising about it, and once they act on it, they do it again and again until they’re caught. Even if Ellie was the first, she won’t have been the last.’

  Joe didn’t respond to that. It was something he’d considered through all of those years: that his silence had cost the lives of other people. It added to his guilt.

  ‘Whatever I could tell you couldn’t have caught him, though,’ he said.

  ‘Is that the best you can do?’

  ‘I asked you if there were any suspects and you said no, so it wouldn’t have narrowed anything down.’

  ‘But it might have helped with an appeal,’ Gina said, exasperated. ‘Anything helps, you know that. If you’d have told us what he was wearing, or his age or his build, or just about fucking anything, someone else might have seen him. They might have come forward with a better description, or even a name.’

  ‘All right, I get it,’ he said. ‘I messed up, I know that. I’ve always known that.’

  ‘It’s not just that,’ she said, tears in her eyes now. ‘You’ve made me feel insignificant, because I tried to look out for you. I felt guilty that I couldn’t find Ellie’s killer; it was my responsibility to do that. All the time, you were keeping this from me.’

  ‘It was our tragedy, not yours,’ Joe said, but as soon as he saw the colour rise in Gina’s cheeks, he wished he could take the words back.

  ‘I feel like I don’t know you,’ Gina said, shaking her head. ‘I feel let down, betrayed, and lots of other emotions I can’t quite work out.’

  ‘Gina, I’m sorry. But it’s not about us any more. This thing has driven me. There’s a darkness in here that you haven’t seen.’ And Joe slapped his chest with the palm of his hand. ‘Do you know why I became a criminal lawyer? Because it was the one career I could have where I might see him again. Like you say, they don’t stop at one. I’ve dreamed of revenge ever since, to feel my own hands around his neck. This is why I’m telling you now.’

  ‘Let’s hope you never meet the guy then. For your sake.’

  Joe didn’t respond. He didn’t raise an eyebrow or give a shrug, nothing to give away the truth, but Gina guessed it from his silence.

  ‘You’ve seen him,’ she said, her hand going to her mouth.

  Joe nodded.

  They both stayed silent as Joe let Gina take it in. She stared at the files on the desk, tapping her in
dex finger against her thumb, until she looked up and said, ‘Who is he?’

  ‘Mark Proctor.’

  Gina burst out in a laugh. ‘Mark Proctor. You’re kidding?’

  Joe shrugged.

  ‘You’re serious?’ she said. ‘He’s small-time. The police are just angry that a car was stolen from their garage. They had to get someone, and by making it Proctor they’re hoping he’s too worried about himself to make a fuss about the police losing his car. The most they can show is that he didn’t have any insurance.’

  ‘What did you make of him?’

  ‘Quiet, but friendly enough. Just unlucky to be caught up in a situation. There was no suspect in Ellie’s case, and the name of Mark Proctor never came up. I would remember him, the name at least. Definitely no Mark Proctor.’

  ‘I knew it was him as soon as I saw him.’

  She shook her head. ‘That’s not enough. Think like a lawyer. What would you say to a witness saying the same as you?’

  Joe didn’t have to say it. They both knew the question: have you ever been on the street and about to say hello to someone, only to realise at the last moment that it wasn’t who you thought it was? It was the slam-dunk question in any recognition case: say no, and the witness isn’t believed, because everyone’s done it; say yes and the witness has admitted that mistakes in recognition are made. Heads we win, tails you lose.

  ‘That’s why I’m going after more.’

  ‘What the hell are you talking about, Joe?’

  ‘I’m going to find out more about Proctor. We can both do it. Work with me, Gina. I want to present evidence to the police, because a name won’t be enough. My evidence won’t be enough.’

  ‘You should have done more for me, all those years ago.’ She shook her head. ‘What are you hoping to find that the police won’t?’

  ‘I know his sister.’

  ‘You what? How the hell do you know her?’

  ‘I looked her up and took her out last night. Gina, I need to know more about him, to dig deeper with her, find out his secrets, follow him.’

  ‘Joe, it’s no good. You’ve left it too late. And for us.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘What do you think? Have you any idea how angry I am? I feel betrayed. I’ve tried to look after you through the years. I don’t do maternal, but for you, I wanted to protect you. But now?’ She shook her head. ‘You’ve broken everything. Goodbye, Joe.’

  She walked towards the door. As she passed Joe, he reached out and grabbed her arm. ‘What do you mean, goodbye?’

  ‘What do you think I mean?’ she said, pulling her arm away. ‘I quit. I need some time on my own. I’m sorry, Joe, but I can’t look at you. Not right now.’

  And with that, she went.

  Joe went to the window and looked out. Gina rushed out onto the street. Her hand went to her cheeks to wipe something away. Tears, he presumed. As she went into the park, he lost sight of her behind the leaves and blooms.

  He grabbed the court file and headed for the door. He needed to get rid of his client and then he was going after Proctor.

  Twenty-six

  Sam could feel Charlotte’s gaze on him as he drove. He was turning over the news about Mark Proctor in his head but none of it made any sense. Joe’s recollection had to be wrong. And what if he helped? Joe reckoned he wanted to bring Proctor before the courts, but that isn’t what he’d said before he knew his identity. He’d only ever thought about killing him. Was Joe using Sam to shore up his doubts so that he could carry out his threat? That would drag Sam into a conspiracy.

  ‘You’re quiet,’ Charlotte said.

  He smiled, but it was thin. ‘Just some personal stuff I’m dealing with.’

  ‘If you need to talk, remember your friends.’

  His smile grew at that. ‘Thank you.’

  They pulled into the car park outside police headquarters, negotiating the security barrier and then parking in the furthest spot, giving themselves a long walk.

  The Force headquarters was on a business park close to the city centre, just about on the spot where Manchester United first started out as a football team for the nearby railway yards. Now, it was surrounded by office complexes and accessed by a bland route of tarmac and roundabouts, livened by sculptures that aimed to fool those who had to work there that it was bright and cutting edge. Sam didn’t see it quite like that. Once there, you were stuck, far away from anywhere worth a walk, staring through huge windows and willing the clock forward.

  Sam preferred the location of his squad, in their run-down old station close to the clatter and noise of a small town on the edge of the city. He enjoyed the chance to get away for his lunch, hearing people, just something different from the daily trudge through cruelty and murder; something ordinary, mundane. Being locked away in a glass box on a business park would chip away at his soul.

  Something had been done to make it seem like an upgrade. Over-priced art dominated the entrance and quotes by figures from history lined the walls, meant to be inspirational, although Sam noted that it was always the top brass that benefited from high-priced improvements. The exterior was like an out-of-town hotel, windows interrupting the concrete exterior at regular intervals, but at night it lit up like a blue police lamp. It was supposed to be a beacon to the rest of the city, reassurance that the police were there. Sam saw it more as an acceptance that the police had been forced into retreat, sheltered behind concrete bollards so that a van couldn’t drive up to it and blow the place into small pieces.

  ‘It’s definitely nothing about the job?’ Charlotte said, as they skipped up the steps towards the large glass entrance, an image of Robert Peel bearing down on them. ‘Don’t exclude me so that you can be the hero.’

  He stopped and grabbed the sleeve of her jacket. She turned to look at him, surprise in her eyes. ‘I’m not hiding anything from you,’ he said. ‘Like I said, it’s personal. I’m fine, though. Just something I’ve got to work out.’

  ‘Okay, I’m sorry,’ she said. ‘Come on, let’s get this computer sorted.’

  They were there to see the computer examiner, the man who had the job of analysing the contents of Henry Mason’s hard drives. He’d already found some search terms that suggested he liked girls who were too young. Sam was hoping for more, because the internet gave up a person’s secrets, those places they look when they think no one is watching.

  They made their way through the large atrium, with tables where people ate their lunch, more like a motorway service station than the old-style police canteens that served glorious food for next to nothing. The tables were busy with people taking a break, the offices overlooking it just glass cubes.

  The corridors were carpeted and new, so everything felt plush as they went, following the directions of the security guard at the front of the building, until they knocked on the door of a small office and went inside.

  ‘Tony Davies?’ Sam asked.

  A man sitting at a desk in the furthest corner of the room looked up from his monitor and said, ‘That’s me. You here about Henry Mason?’

  ‘That’s us,’ Charlotte said, and turned to Sam. ‘I called ahead.’ She walked over, Sam just behind.

  Tony was a small man with bushy eyebrows and a shirt with coffee stains on the front. He spoke quickly and nervously, so that he almost had a stammer, his words trying to come out too fast.

  ‘I haven’t found much else,’ he said. ‘I’ve been all over his drives, everywhere. There’s nothing encrypted or saved, no hidden folders.’

  ‘So he doesn’t keep any kiddie porn?’ Sam said.

  ‘No, he doesn’t keep it, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t look. Why would anyone save it on their own computer now? It’s all out there on the internet, if you know where to look. But that’s the thing: you’ve got to know where to look. The ones we get now are just hoarders.’

  ‘So what does the computer tell you about Henry Mason?’ Sam said.

  ‘Computer savvy,’ Tony said.
‘Internet cleaners, all the malware protection, and his clean-up software was set at a really strict level, so that whatever he looks at on the internet it can’t be recovered. But he tried a different browser and it didn’t clean up as well.’

  He reached behind and picked up a disc. ‘This is all the emails from the last six months, plus all the files from his documents folder. There’s nothing in his pictures except for family photos and cars.’

  Sam took it from him. At least it gave him something to look through, to take his mind from what Joe had told him.

  ‘I looked through his other folders, because people sometimes hide things in program folders, but nothing seemed out of place.’