by Neil White
The guilt of those left behind, thinking that if they’d done things differently, their loved one would still be alive. God knows Joe knew that feeling well enough.
‘Where’s Nicola now?’ Joe said.
‘What do you think a drinker does if she blames her drinking for the death of a loved one? I can tell you: she drinks more.’ Gerald looked at the ceiling and attempted to blink away the tears. When he looked down again, his cheeks were wet. ‘We moved house so that we didn’t have to see that place every day, but the hurt moves with you. So one day, she ended it. Hanged herself from the stair rail. I found her when I got home from work. I’d lost everyone then.’
Joe closed his eyes and let out a long sigh. This was getting too hard.
‘So why was Proctor here?’ Joe said.
Gerald clenched his jaw but didn’t respond.
Joe remembered the email. You got the wrong one.
‘It was you,’ Joe said, aghast. ‘You killed that man last night, whoever he was.’
Gerald stayed silent.
‘Talk to me. I need to know.’
‘What, so you can tell everyone what I told you and I go to prison for the rest of my life?’
‘You did it because you thought he was Mark Proctor,’ Joe said. ‘I was following him for the same reason.’
Gerald looked at the floor. He was silent for a few moments before he said, ‘He killed Katie. And he killed Nicola, in a different way.’
‘Where did the email come from, with the pictures?’
‘You saw it?’ When Joe nodded, Gerald said, ‘Someone who wouldn’t give his real name. He told me he’d burgled Proctor and taken a box. There were things in it. Pictures, jewellery, newspaper articles.’
Joe’s eyes widened. ‘And?’
‘He said he wouldn’t go to the police because he couldn’t go back to prison, and he hadn’t been out long,’ Gerald said. ‘But he said what Proctor had done was wrong. Whatever bad things he’d done, it was nothing compared to Proctor. He wasn’t prepared to come forward but he was giving me the chance to make it right. He reckoned Proctor would kill again, because people like him always do. The only way to stop Proctor was to kill him, and this person was giving me the chance. I’ve thought of nothing else for seven years. So when I got there, I couldn’t stop myself. I lost it, just stabbed and stabbed until he stopped moving.’
‘Why didn’t you just tell the police and let them trace the emails?’ Joe said.
‘Because he said he would destroy everything if I did. There were other things there too. Some earrings, and some pictures of Katie not long before she died. I could have them if I killed Proctor, if I got rid of the man who took my daughter away from me.’
‘How sure were you about this?’
‘I asked him for proof. He sent me a picture of Katie’s notebook. She carried one around with her because she used to pass messages in class. Just silly teenage girl stuff. I recognised her writing. Katie’s notepad was missing. I asked the police at the time, because I thought it would have her final thoughts in it. Who she liked, music, just the daft things that made her the person she was. He’d kept it, like some cheap souvenir. I wanted it back and I couldn’t stand the thought of him destroying it.’
‘Something about this doesn’t seem right,’ Joe said. ‘Could it have been Proctor you were speaking to all along?’
‘I don’t understand.’
‘That has to be it,’ Joe said, leaning forward. ‘Who else would have access to those souvenirs? And why was he here?’
‘Why do you think?’ Gerald said. ‘To taunt me, because I got it wrong.’ He shook his head again. ‘I killed the wrong man.’
‘Just taunt?’
‘And blackmail.’
‘Whoa, that changes everything.’
‘How so?’
‘You’re saying that you received emails that persuaded you that Mark Proctor is your daughter’s killer. You were told not to leak the information but instead kill Mark Proctor. The wrong man was sent and you killed him. Then Mark Proctor comes here and demands money from you. How much?’
‘Fifty thousand to begin with.’
‘And who’s the common person in all of this? I’ll tell you: Mark Proctor. He’s set you up to kill someone, and now he’s trying to get fifty grand from you.’
‘You think so?’
‘It makes sense.’
Gerald thought about that for a few moments. When he spoke, his voice was quiet. ‘So what do I do now?’
‘You sit and wait, to see whether they work out it’s you.’
‘And if they do?’
‘You’ve got problems.’
Gerald put his head in his hands. Joe thought he was crying, but when he looked up again, Gerald’s cheeks weren’t damp. He said, ‘Why were you there, at the green? How do I know you aren’t part of it, here to turn up the heat on me, advise me to pay out? You both get rid of some kind of enemy or rival, and you’re here to play some kind of good-cop-bad-cop routine? You were looking at my emails. Were you here to delete everything, or take my computer, so the police can’t examine it?’
Joe shook his head. ‘No,’ he said. ‘I was there for the same reason you were: to kill Mark Proctor.’
Gerald put his head back and looked at the ceiling. He laughed out loud. ‘So for once in my life I got there too early.’ He shook his head. ‘I should have just followed him, tried to stop him. I was sent other photographs too, proof of who was next, but I couldn’t work out where it was or who it was.’
‘Show me.’
Gerald went to his computer and located a file in his documents folder. He clicked on one of the thumbnails. An image came up on the screen.
Joe leaned in. It was a teenage girl in a school uniform, generic black trousers and white shirt. She was pretty, light skin and red hair, her demeanour serious.
‘Do you know the school?’ Joe said.
‘I haven’t looked that hard,’ Gerald said. ‘He only made contact a few weeks ago.’ Gerald nodded towards the screen. ‘So you think she might be the key?’
‘I don’t know,’ Joe said. ‘That’s part of the problem. But if we can find out why he’s chosen her, it might help us. We need to know more about Proctor. If we know the man, we might be able to understand him better and then work out his next move.’
‘He told me he was going to blame someone else,’ Gerald said. ‘He took the rag that I wiped the knife with. He’s going to do something with it. Plant it, I presume.’
‘Shit,’ Joe said. ‘That will be me.’
‘I’ll tell the police it wasn’t you.’
‘How can I trust you?’
‘Because I’ve nothing left to live for,’ Gerald said. ‘I’ve lost my daughter and my wife. I just exist, and now I’ve killed an innocent man. I don’t even know if I want to get through today, never mind blame someone else for my troubles.’ He reached out and gripped Joe’s arm. ‘Just stop him. Do whatever you have to do, but don’t let him hurt anyone else. I’ll be waiting here for the news. Once I know Proctor is taken care of, I’ll hand myself in for what happened last night.’
‘Thank you. I’ll do that.’
Joe left the house, unsure of his next move. His uncertainty was resolved when his phone buzzed. It was a message from Gina: Joe, we need to talk.
Forty-eight
Sam had been walking towards the station when he’d got the call from Gina. He’d been unable to focus on his driving, almost went through a red light. His shirt collar felt too tight. Mark Proctor. Joe. They were both swirling around in his mind. As soon as he heard Gina’s voice, he knew he needed to see her. He told her about a café a few streets away and headed for it.
It was a small boutique café that wouldn’t have long left as a business. It aped the chain coffee houses but made a big play of being Fairtrade, the coffee varieties made trendy by being chalked onto a blackboard. The front of the café was made up of small tables in front of shelves filled with Italian food
, like overpriced olive oil and pickled peppers, but there was a long conservatory at the back. Sam guessed the owners had been hoping to catch the lawyers and accountants and business leaders who wanted brunch on their way into the city. It wasn’t that kind of town. The smart money kept on driving.
He had to wait almost an hour before Gina showed, the assistant behind the counter giving him long glances as he stretched out two coffees. He wondered whether Gina had changed her mind, but when she came in the determination in her eyes told Sam that whatever she wanted to say, she had few doubts about it. Gone was the usual suit, and in its place a long blue summery dress, her hair tied back in a clasp.
Gina came to his table with a large latte, and a black coffee for Sam. The caffeine wasn’t helping him; it just made him edgier. He’d seated himself next to the toilets. It wasn’t a pleasant place to be, even though the café was nearly empty, but there was less chance of someone sitting nearby.
Stale booze wafted across as Gina sat down. Her eyes looked tired and red. Sam hoped she’d been okay to drive.
‘This isn’t a social call, I take it,’ Sam said. ‘I’m having a busy day.’
‘Anything but,’ Gina said.
‘So talk.’ Sam wasn’t in the mood for the usual pleasantries. He cared for Gina, his memories of how she’d been when still the cop in charge of Ellie’s case inspired him, but the news about Mark Proctor had left him confused.
‘Who’s the man in the park?’ Gina said.
‘I can’t tell you that,’ Sam said, clenching his jaw.
‘It’s not Mark Proctor.’
Sam had been about to take a drink, but that made him pause. ‘How sure are you?’
‘Very sure.’
‘What do you know about it?’
‘Who do you think called the police in the first place?’
‘That was you?’ Sam said, confused, and then, ‘How did you know?’
‘Joe told me.’
The cup clattered as he put it down. He groaned and put his head in his hands for a moment, his fingers clutching at his hair.
‘What’s he done?’ he asked.
Gina lowered her head to get Sam’s attention. ‘He told me he hasn’t done anything.’ As Sam looked up, she relayed the events of the night before. About how Joe had been following Proctor, and ended up following him all the way to the park, except he lost him. He went into the park and discovered the body, panicked and ran.
‘Do you believe him?’ Sam asked, but he sounded as if he didn’t really want to hear the answer.
‘Honestly?’ Gina said, and then sighed. ‘I don’t know, which is the best I can do. I thought I knew Joe, but what I found out yesterday changed things. All I can say is that if he did kill someone thinking it was Mark Proctor, he knows he killed an innocent man, and Joe didn’t look like a man who’d committed the ultimate sin. Just a man who knew things were looking bad for him and needed to work out how to sort it.’
‘I’m going to have to come off the case,’ Sam said. ‘I don’t know what help you want me to give, but Joe is going to be a suspect, the number-one suspect. I can’t be seen to be helping him.’
‘But you can if you’re off the case?’
‘I told you, I can’t be seen to be involved. I know that sounds bad, that he’s my brother and all, but I really don’t know what to do. If he’s killed someone, I can’t lose my job over him. I’m not even sure I could speak to him again. Ellie was innocent. If that man in the park isn’t Mark Proctor, then he was innocent too. Even Proctor might be innocent. What is the chance that Joe has got it wrong?’
‘I know you can’t be involved from within the case,’ Gina said. ‘Go to your inspector, tell him about Joe. Be upfront and look after yourself. Then let’s find out the truth. About Joe, and about Mark Proctor.’
‘And sell out my brother?’
Gina took a drink and looked deep in thought. ‘What would you do if you found out Joe had done it, that he’d killed a man who had nothing to do with Ellie’s murder?’
Sam thought about that. His first thought was that he’d turn Joe in, because catching killers was central to who he was; the horror of the crime outweighed brotherly loyalty.
But did it? Joe was still his brother. Being in prison wouldn’t get the life back, and he’d seen enough killers escape justice through some technicality to know that the world still turns, lives still go on, that even the killer being behind bars goes just a short way to helping the family of a victim get over a death. Was seeing his brother locked up for life worth the small benefit it would achieve?
‘I don’t know,’ he said finally, his voice quiet. ‘I thought I did, but faced with it, I have no idea.’
‘So don’t tell them,’ Gina said. ‘Not yet. Tell them you know Mark Proctor, you can even mention Ellie, and people will understand. You can’t have a biased investigation or else it gets torn apart at the trial. Work with me, for my benefit.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘I owe it to Joe to give him the benefit of the doubt, just for now. I don’t know where I’m going to start, but I’m going to see what I can find out.’
Sam reached across and put his hand over hers.
Gina looked down at their hands and then up at Sam again.
‘It’s not just for Joe though, is it?’ Sam said. ‘It’s for you, because I know Ellie’s case still hurts you.’
Gina managed a smile, even though she didn’t feel like smiling. ‘There’s more truth in that than you think.’
Sam took his hand away and drained his coffee. ‘So where are you starting?’
‘Ellie’s case,’ she said. ‘I’m going to speak to an old friend on the squad, to see whether there’s any chance of some new forensics.’
Sam shook his head. ‘I spoke to someone yesterday. The case is dormant. It gets dusted down now and again, but nothing for a long time.’
‘But if you called yesterday, you can bet someone is looking at it now,’ she said. ‘That’s how it works with the cold cases: you look again whenever something new comes in.’ She took another drink, the coffee making her more alert. ‘Who’s your boss?’
‘Ray Brabham.’
‘God, they rise so quickly,’ she said. ‘I remember him as a keen young detective. Fond of himself, so I remember, but he’s smart. Why is your squad involved, though? The green at Worsley is on the other side of the city.’
‘He thinks there might be a connection to our case.’
‘I saw the paper. Domino Killer. What the hell?’
‘That was Brabham’s idea. A teacher was stabbed a month ago. The knife was found nearby, with a bloody fingerprint on it, but there was no match on our system. A first-timer. We got the match this week, though, when a man called Henry Mason was found bludgeoned in a park. It was his fingerprint. Both murders were on our patch.’
‘And that’s the domino effect? One falls into another?’
‘Yeah, it’s a stretch, but now there’s this new murder. Another man in a park, Brabham couldn’t keep away.’
‘Except now it’s dragged Proctor into it,’ Gina said. ‘Joe found the body after following Mark Proctor. Or, at least, who he thought was Mark Proctor.’
‘And a car hired out to Proctor was found parked nearby. The keys were with the victim.’
They both sat in silence for a few minutes. The café was getting busier, the pre-lunch crowd coming in to pass the hours and stare at wicker baskets filled with artisan breads and organic fruit.
‘What if the domino thing is right?’ Gina said eventually. ‘If it was supposed to be Mark Proctor last night, and that’s who Joe thought he was following, wouldn’t that make Proctor the man who killed Henry Mason? Each tumbles into the other. And Proctor was arrested the night Henry Mason was killed, if I’ve got the timeline right. Why this week? He’s never been in trouble before but he gets arrested and then linked to a dead body, all in one week. And Joe was his lawyer. It’s what brought them face to face. It’s another c
oincidence, and when coincidences start to mount up, it usually means they are anything but coincidences.’
‘What did Proctor say about what he was doing when he was arrested?’ Sam said.
‘Nothing. He kept quiet in the interview and told Joe virtually nothing.’
‘He broke into the police compound to steal his own car back,’ Sam said. ‘Did I read that right?’
‘And set it alight,’ Gina said. ‘But why would he do that?’
‘Because he’s got something to hide?’