by A. J. Cross
‘Thank you, Miles. We’re very grateful for your expertise,’ said Chong. ‘I’ll show you out.’ She turned to Watts. ‘I’ll see you all at the Lawrence vehicle in five minutes.’
They were back inside the huge space, Chong carrying the plastic box. Placing it on a shelf, pulling on latex gloves, she removed the handgun. To Watts, it looked harsh and sinister in her slim brown hand. They followed her to the Lawrences’ Toyota, its front seats still occupied by the mannequins. She got inside and slid along the rear seat to its midpoint, her colleagues watching.
‘You know from earlier how the shots fired at Michael and Molly Lawrence started and ended their journeys, plus the trajectory of each bullet. I want to see how easy this gun is to manipulate in a confined space.’
She raised the muzzle of the gun towards the light-coloured upholstery high on the rear of the driver’s seat, close to an ill-defined mark. ‘See that? This gun was resting on the top of this seat when it was fired, which resulted in a discharge of hot gases and particulates. In Mike Lawrence’s case it left the star-shaped pattern on the left side of his face and probably a similar configuration on his wife’s clothing. The marks confirm that the muzzle of this gun was held very close to each of them when it was fired. In Molly Lawrence’s case, the gun was fired from this position.’ She sat forward, moved the gun between the two front seats. She frowned. ‘It feels awkward but the gun is light and handles easily, even for someone of my small stature. The added advantage of being in the rear seat is that it put distance between him and both victims.’
Lowering the gun, she slid across the seat and out. She looked at each of them, her face and tone serious. ‘It’s your job to deduce motive and intent for these murders, but to me there’s an element of cold-blooded execution about them.’
Back in the office several minutes later, Watts was staring down at the table, his arms folded.
‘Execution means punishment or retribution as motive.’ He looked up. ‘Why would anybody have that kind of issue with an interior designer and a finance manager, which as far as I can make out is an accountant? Why would anybody want them dead?’
Judd’s head was resting on her forearms. ‘How about one of Mike Lawrence’s clients hated the puce-and-acid-yellow scatter cushions? Or, maybe somebody got done big-time by the Inland Revenue because of a dodgy tax return Molly Lawrence filed.’
‘Execution as motive raises some real possibilities,’ said Traynor quietly. ‘A professional attack by a single-minded, organized, professional criminal operating entirely for financial reward.’
‘Traynor, these are two ordinary people we’re talking about,’ protested Watts. ‘What could they have done that attracted the attention of a hitman?’
‘I don’t know. It’s also possibly the work of an antisocial, highly aggressive individual with zero empathy who came upon them at the right time for him but the wrong time for them.’
‘That’s more like it. I’ve met a lot over the years who would fit that description, who’d sell their own mothers if the price was right.’
‘Both require consideration,’ said Traynor.
Watts shook his head. ‘Not the executioner. My job is to be evidence-led not theory-driven. What else can you say about this other type?’
‘Despite what I’ve suggested about his personality and attitudes to others, it’s also very likely that even the Lawrences themselves were unaware of the threat he represented to them.’ Seeing Watts’ face, he said, ‘It doesn’t necessarily have to be a motive which is understandable to other people. Once I start working with Mrs Lawrence, I’ll indirectly raise the possibility with her.’
Watts reached for an envelope lying on the table, opened it, read its contents, then passed the single sheet towards them. ‘Have a look at this.’
Judd sat up as Traynor took it, read it aloud: ‘Forensic examination of the Lawrences’ car engine: a loose electrical connection which could have resulted in a minor, intermittent problem.’
‘That,’ said Watts, ‘could explain why they came to a stop in Forge Street. To get away from the roadworks and heavy traffic.’
Traynor handed it to Judd, who quickly read it.
‘Hey-hey, we’re on the right track, Sarge. That whole attack was planned, start to finish. I think they were followed by somebody who knew them. Somebody who knew them well enough to be angry with them about something or be holding some kind of grudge. Someone who tampered with their car, say, in the hospital car park.’
‘Those are suppositions,’ said Traynor, ‘but a gunman with a personal grudge better fits my thinking than an opportunist who shoots two people for a handful of jewellery.’
Watts eyed him. ‘What I’ve learned from thirty years on this job is that antisocial types who don’t give a damn for anybody will do all manner of violence to get their paws on stuff we wouldn’t consider worth the effort, let alone killing for. Open a newspaper any day of the week. You’ll see reports of muggings, hold-ups by types like that, grabbing people’s stuff, injuring them, even stabbing them and ending up with a phone, a few quid, for which they’ve created victims and traumatized families because they don’t give a damn about anybody or anything.’
Traynor was at the door. ‘What I don’t see is how an intermittent fault affecting the Lawrences’ car would serve this gunman’s plan or purpose. I’m going to the incident room to look at what I think is hampering our understanding of and progress on the shootings.’
TWELVE
Tuesday 11 December. 11.38 a.m.
Traynor came into Watts’ office. Without speaking he placed the six carjacking files on the table in front of Watts. Watts looked at them, then up at Traynor, who pointed at them.
‘My view at the outset was that these six carjackings have no relevance to the Lawrence shootings. That remains my view. They were quick attacks with zero contact between attacker and unknown victim. Whoever attacked Mike and Molly Lawrence got access to the inside of their car. He spent time in close proximity to them. He may even have talked to them. His attack is of a different order entirely. This investigation needs to focus solely on the Lawrence shootings.’
Watts looked at him, then down at the files. ‘You’re wrong about zero contact by the carjacker. Ask the woman who had her hand smashed. She’ll tell you exactly how she felt about his “proximity”.’
Traynor went to the Smartboard, pulled up a screen of details and began adding to them. ‘Anybody intent on stopping the Lawrences’ vehicle wouldn’t have been helped by an intermittent fault. “Intermittent” means that the car could have stopped anywhere on its journey to Forge Street. It could even have restarted, enabling them to drive on.’
Judd’s head dropped back. ‘Every time we get what looks like a potential lead, there’s an “Ah, but”.’ She raked her hair. ‘The Lawrences didn’t choose to stop in that godawful place. How about this: if whatever was done to the Toyota caused it to merely slow down at times, is it possible that somebody was waiting at Forge Street, blocking the road with his own vehicle, waiting for them? We might not have any evidence, but you can’t say that’s not possible.’ She looked from Watts to Traynor. ‘It had to be something like that. His only alternative would have been to force them to stop, which would have been chancy. Even more to the point, it would probably have left damage to their car, but there isn’t any.’
‘The flaw in what you’ve said, Judd, is that whoever he was, he could have been left waiting, because, like Will suggested, the intermittent fault might not have occurred and they would have continued home as normal. He also couldn’t have assumed they’d get lost.’
Watts looked down at files and papers covering the table. ‘He shot both of them. Guns give a shooter distance. Whatever the antecedents, once that Toyota was stationary, he could have threatened them through the window, reached inside, grabbed whatever he wanted. What makes no sense to me is that by getting inside he increased his personal risk by putting himself in close proximity to two frightened pe
ople.’
Judd’s brows slid together. ‘What if he didn’t know they were both in the car? The Toyota’s windows are tinted.’
‘He would know if he followed them to and from the hospital or wherever else he first saw them.’
Traynor paced, eyes focused on the floor, his voice low. ‘I’m also bothered by his placing himself inside that car in such close proximity to both victims. If he harboured an extreme resentment to one or both of the Lawrences, did he get inside the car because he wanted to talk to them? Lay out his grievance against them?’
‘Whoever he is, he’s risk-happy,’ said Judd, ‘and he was tooled up, on what he regards as a job—’
Watts looked at her, exasperated. ‘Forge Street’s a dump. This city has no rep for execution-style shootings of your middle class.’
‘It’s no good obsessing about what he was thinking or why he did it, Sarge. We might never know until we catch him.’
‘So, exactly how do you propose we do that?’ He watched her frown deepen. ‘Let me know once you’ve got an investigative plan.’ He glanced at Traynor. ‘Meanwhile, both the carjackings and the shootings remain part of this investigation for the simple reason that it makes sense to me until there’s solid evidence which points to there being no connection.’
Traynor sat, his eyes on Watts. ‘There had to be another car involved.’
Watts mustered patience. ‘There’s no forensic evidence to support the presence of another vehicle.’
‘With all that rain,’ said Judd, ‘there’s no proof there wasn’t, but if you don’t like that, how about another possibility?’ She ignored his groan, his hands going to his head. ‘The attacker saw their car approaching and he lay down on the road, pretending to be hurt.’
‘You’re still saying that this was somebody hanging around on the off-chance of them coming along! They were lost. They should never have come along Forge Street.’ Silence settled on the office. ‘Judd, I appreciate your keenness, but this is going nowhere.’ To Traynor, Watts said, ‘I hear what you’re saying, Will, about the carjackings, but for me this is a young thug who’s no stranger to that kind of urban crime, who’s built up his confidence on five of those robberies, and prior to the sixth decided to up his game with a gun. What you said about the shooter being an antisocial type supports it. He might be a gang member, like that Mathison chap talked about. There’s no CCTV evidence that Mike and Molly Lawrence were followed after they left the restaurant, or that they knew their attacker. If this young, armed thug was around Forge Street waiting for somebody, anybody to show up, it just happened to be the Lawrences’ bad luck that it was them. My job is to thoroughly explore and exhaust the most obvious possibility before I look at anything else and that’s what I’m doing.’
‘The CCTV footage I’ve seen is no confirmation that they weren’t followed,’ said Traynor.
Watts gave his face a brisk rub. ‘I’m not dismissing anybody’s theories.’ He watched Judd fold her arms. ‘But so far as I can see, all they do is raise more questions. My theory is uncomplicated. It’s possible he was just there, on the off-chance. OK, it’s possible he saw them leave a pricey restaurant, gave them a quick once-over and said to himself, “Well-dressed couple, she’s got an expensive handbag, they’re driving a reasonable-looking car.” He’s not bothered that they’re a couple. He doesn’t care. He’s got confidence from the gun. So, maybe he does follow them. As for how he got them to stop, we can speculate, try and predict his behaviour all we like, but we’ll probably not know until he tells us if we catch him.’ He jabbed the table with his index finger. ‘Make that “when”.’
‘Molly Lawrence could have some answers,’ said Traynor. ‘How is she?’
‘I checked earlier. She could be discharged at the end of the week, depending on what the doctors say. According to the nurse I spoke to, she’s asking to go home.’ Watts studied Traynor. ‘How about you check with staff? Depending on what they say, go and see her at the hospital today. Introduce yourself.’
Traynor took out his phone. ‘When she does talk, I want the essence of this gunman’s character from his appearance, his verbal behaviour.’
Watts got up, went across the office and switched on the kettle. ‘In the meantime, I can make some suggestions about his “essence”: local to that area, eighteen to twenty-four years old, a previous record for violence, possible drug user, possible gang affiliation. If I’m right, by now he’s spent most of the money he got from robbing the Lawrences on stuff that’s gone up his nose or into his arms.’
He looked across at Traynor who was ending a call. ‘What did they say?’
‘That I should ring later.’
‘I take it they know how urgent this is?’
Traynor nodded. ‘I’m sure they do, but they’ve got their own concerns right now.’ He paced. ‘Ours is to learn what moves this individual, what motivates him, how he thinks. It will have been evident that night in what he said and what he did. Molly Lawrence heard his voice, his words. She saw him. She was in close proximity to him. She has a lot to give us.’
Judd looked across at him, chin on fist. ‘When I saw her very recently, she couldn’t give me even a basic idea of what happened to them. The nurse told me that she doubted Molly had faced up to the events of that night.’
‘That’s a realistic summation of someone who’s been through such a degree of trauma as Molly Lawrence has.’
Judd and Watts exchanged quick glances. If anyone knew about trauma first-hand, it was Traynor.
‘She’s our sole source, our best hope for understanding him, what he did and how they responded inside that vehicle. It’s those kinds of details that will help us create a picture of him.’
‘It’s possible there was no interaction,’ said Watts. ‘He’s in their car, shoots them, takes their stuff and he’s gone.’
‘Shooting them is a form of interaction. Actions don’t occur within a vacuum. The progression of events could tell us a lot about how he relates to others, whether he was confrontational.’
Watts stared at him across the table. ‘He shot them both. How much more confrontational could he get?’
Judd’s eyes widened as Traynor stood, his eyes fixed on Watts, who was also now on his feet. ‘I’m talking antecedents to the actual shootings, Bernard. If shooting them wasn’t part of his plan, there had to have been a causal event which led to it. We know nothing about his initial contact beyond his producing a gun to them. Depending on their personalities, such an action could have shocked them into submission or triggered panic. How did he intend to maintain control?’
Watts stared at him. ‘It looks to me like it was with the gun.’
Traynor shook his head. ‘No. Guns can be a very poor method for achieving control.’
‘Which leads to exactly what we’ve got in this case: chaos, ending with Mike Lawrence dead, his wife as good as, for all this low-life knew or cared.’
The silence was broken by Traynor. ‘He didn’t kill her.’
They both stared at him. ‘Meaning what?’ asked Watts.
‘He could have killed her with a shot to the head. He didn’t.’
‘So? If he’s young, like I said, he was probably as shocked as they were at the madness of what was happening. He starts firing indiscriminately—’
‘Molly might have pleaded with him,’ said Judd. ‘You know, “Please, don’t hurt me, I’m pregnant.” I think a woman would do that in her situation. If he was young, not some hardened thug, she might have thought she could appeal to him not to hurt her.’
Watts covered his face with his hands, then let them drop. ‘Maybe she did and maybe she didn’t – he still shot her.’ He looked across at Traynor. ‘If he’s really young, say sixteen or so, the shootings probably frightened the life out of him.’
Traynor looked across at him. ‘There might be something in what you said about his being very young.’
‘It was a guess.’
‘Guesses can be informed.’
‘What else do you want from Molly Lawrence?’ asked Watts.
‘If we assume that he put both Lawrences in fear, I want to know if he attempted to form some kind of link, some sort of relationship with them, perhaps to calm them. Or did something occur inside that car which led to his complete loss of control?’
He stood and gazed out of the window. ‘He’s a shadow man and that’s how he’ll remain until Molly Lawrence talks and we see his essential character within her words.’
The phone rang. Watts reached for it and listened. ‘You don’t say!’ He made quick, neat notes. ‘Any news on Jonah Budd? Right, carry on with it.’ He replaced the phone. ‘I’ve got a couple of officers watching Budd but so far nothing to report on him. The big news is that Adam has examined the gun and found a link from it to a drug-related, inner-city shooting a decade ago. A bit of a turf-war warning. No fatality. One suspect was a Huey Whyte. I know Whyte. Back in the day, he was living in the inner-city area. For the last few years his offence profile has been zero. He needs finding.’ He looked at Traynor. ‘Avoid Brophy until you’ve had contact with Molly Lawrence. If he asks you about your plans, keep it vague, no details, because they’ll turn him into a micro-managing nightmare.’
Traynor reached for his backpack. ‘In which case, it’s fortunate that he has no management role with me.’
Judd watched the door close on him. ‘Will’s straight to it, isn’t he? All business, clear thinking, determined and not about to be ordered around by the Bro. Which is just as well, given the mess we’re in—’
‘Judd, put a lid on it!’
Brophy was eyeing Watts across his desk. ‘Where’s Dr Traynor? What’s he doing?’
‘On his way to his day job.’
Brophy’s mouth set. ‘When’s he planning to see the woman who was shot?’
‘Mrs Lawrence. Very soon, he told me.’
‘I don’t want any foot-dragging on this investigation. Why isn’t he going to the hospital today to talk to her?’
Watts started a slow count inside his head. ‘A couple of reasons, sir. One, she’s gone through a massive trauma which has left her husband dead. Two, she’s in the care of the hospital and they say when she’s well enough to have visitors – oh, and as a bit of forward thinking, once we’ve identified whoever attacked her and killed her husband, she will be a witness in an ensuing court case and we don’t want any lawyers for the gunman rubbishing whatever Will Traynor got from her, saying he obtained it under duress or at a time when she was in no fit state to give accurate information.’