A Killing Moon

by Dunne, Steven

  ‘No. She had a tattoo as well. Polish flag. I burnt that off too.’

  ‘Anything else?’

  ‘I took a hammer to her face. So you couldn’t identify her.’

  ‘Why would it matter if we identified her?’ said Brook. ‘You claim Kassia was a stranger with no connection to you.’ He stared at Tanner’s bowed head. ‘No answer?’

  ‘Did you know Kassia was pregnant?’ asked Noble.

  Tanner couldn’t keep the shock from his features. ‘No,’ he eventually croaked.

  ‘Don’t worry,’ said Noble. ‘You’re not the father. We checked.’

  ‘I wouldn’t be,’ muttered Tanner. ‘I’d just met her.’

  Tanner was concentrating hard when answers fell outside his prepared story and it was taking its toll. He’d barely moved a muscle during the interview, so hard was he trying to remember details that were foreign to him. Cognitive overload it was called. The more you lie, the less you move, to avoid distraction and keep the brain on task.

  ‘What happened after you disfigured her?’

  ‘I put her in the van and drove down by the Telegraph building and torched it. There was a billycan of petrol in the back.’

  ‘Then why put her clothes in some random skip when you can burn them in the van?’ asked Noble.

  ‘I didn’t think.’

  ‘Where did you pick up the cleaning materials?’ asked Brook.

  ‘They were in the flat.’

  ‘For someone claiming they’d just blown their stack, you sound pretty calm,’ observed Brook. ‘On the one hand you claim you were drunk and can’t remember details, on the other you’re able to strip and clean the place. Then you walk across town to Arboretum Street to steal Max’s van and pick up your brother to help you load the body before dumping it. That sound calm to you, John?’

  ‘Icy,’ confirmed Noble.

  ‘Say what you like, I was shaking like a leaf,’ rejoined Tanner. ‘But you’re half right, Inspector. After I killed her, I panicked, didn’t know what to do. So I snatched the door keys from her bag, locked up and somehow got myself home. Next morning I saw what I had to do and then everything you said happened just the way you said.’ He stared coldly into Brook’s eyes. ‘Except it happened a day later.’

  ‘So you killed her on the twenty-first,’ said Noble. ‘What day was that?’

  Tanner looked up, confused by the simplicity of the question. ‘I … Tuesday,’ he said after a pause to work it out.

  ‘And dumped her the next night, the twenty-second.’

  ‘That’s right,’ nodded Tanner. ‘Though it was well past midnight so I guess it was early on the twenty-third.’

  ‘And how did Nick help?’

  ‘He wasn’t involved. He sat in the van the whole time playing with the radio while I cleaned up and fetched the body. I only took him because I can’t leave him alone at night. He gets scared.’

  ‘I’m not surprised. What time did you pick him up?’

  ‘We left my flat just after midnight to go to Arboretum Street. It’s only five minutes’ walk.’

  ‘So late?’

  ‘I’d been at work,’ said Tanner.

  ‘In Kassia’s flat, where did you clean?’

  ‘I washed off all the blood I could see, hoovered the carpet …’

  ‘The shower?’

  ‘I cleaned that too.’

  Brook’s smile was thin. ‘Why? If you hadn’t taken a shower.’

  Realising his mistake, Tanner stared at his hands. ‘I just did.’

  ‘Did it never occur to you that stealing Max’s van and dumping it with a corpse inside would automatically direct the police to Bar Polski?’ asked Gillstrap. ‘Where you worked?’

  ‘I’m not very smart,’ explained Tanner.

  ‘Smart enough to elude a city-wide manhunt,’ said Noble. Tanner shrugged. Just lucky. ‘Where have you been hiding, out of interest? The Cream Bar? We know you had keys.’

  ‘How?’ asked Tanner, surprised.

  ‘We’re trained detectives, Jake.’

  Tanner shrugged again. ‘I was a keyholder when the place closed. What of it? I lost them.’

  ‘You’ll be glad to know we found them,’ said Brook, aware of Noble’s puzzled glance in his direction. There hadn’t been time to tell him.

  ‘Where?’ demanded Tanner. ‘They weren’t in our flat, ’cos I looked.’

  ‘Stop lying,’ said Noble. ‘After you dumped Kassia’s body, you used them to get into the Cream before assaulting two police officers.’

  ‘What?’ exclaimed Tanner. ‘No way.’

  ‘You had keys,’ insisted Noble. ‘We know you were there.’

  ‘I wasn’t.’

  ‘He’s confessing to a murder, Sergeant,’ said Gillstrap. ‘Why would he deny an assault?’

  ‘Exactly,’ answered Tanner. ‘I wasn’t there. I haven’t been inside the place for years. If I hadn’t lost the keys, then yes, I might have tried to hide there.’

  ‘If you want us to believe you, tell me where you were hiding,’ said Brook. Tanner was tight-lipped. ‘Is Nick there now?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Then why not tell us? You’re not going back there, are you?’

  ‘Jake,’ coaxed Gillstrap.

  ‘Flat three,’ answered Tanner finally. ‘Ground floor of our building.’

  ‘Impossible,’ said Noble. ‘We checked every apartment.’

  ‘Not the old woman’s flat, you didn’t. Annie something.’

  Noble stood off the wall. ‘Is she okay?’

  ‘No, she’s dead,’ said Tanner.

  The two detectives bristled. ‘You killed her?’

  ‘Course not. She died two weeks ago,’ said Tanner. ‘And you can check. I saw her being carted off. When we had to leg it, I knew it was still empty so I broke in.’

  ‘And took your luggage?’ asked Brook.

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘And your beans,’ added Noble.

  Tanner puzzled over this but saw no reason to withhold. ‘Yes.’

  ‘You say Nick’s not there.’

  ‘Would I be blowing the gaff if he was?’

  Noble stared inquisitively at his colleague. ‘Send a car,’ said Brook. Noble left the room.

  ‘The old girl’s key is with my stuff,’ Tanner shouted after him. ‘No sense busting the door down,’ he explained to Brook.

  Brook recorded Noble’s exit for the tape. ‘So all the time Ostrowsky and the police were looking for you—’

  ‘Mr Ostrowsky’s got nothing to do with this,’ insisted Tanner. ‘I was hiding from you lot.’

  ‘Sure,’ said Brook. ‘Ruthless businessmen like Ostrowsky don’t get upset when insignificant nobodies steal from them, especially when that theft brings them to our attention.’

  ‘I was hiding because I killed the girl,’ insisted Tanner. ‘Why won’t you believe me?’

  ‘Because after evading hundreds of police officers for days, you stroll into St Mary’s Wharf and confess to murder,’ said Brook. ‘So what changed?’

  ‘Nothing.’

  ‘It’s Nick, isn’t it?’ said Brook, realising. ‘Ostrowsky grabbed him.’

  ‘This is nothing to do with Mr Ostrowsky,’ repeated Tanner.

  ‘We know your brother was wandering around the Intu. What happened? Did he go stir crazy? He couldn’t stand it any more so he snuck out. Ostrowsky’s people got to hear about it and gathered him up.’ No rebuttal from Tanner. ‘And once he had Nick, Ostrowsky made you an offer you couldn’t refuse. Confess to the girl’s murder and Nick can go free.’

  ‘No. I killed Kassia. I’ve told you.’

  ‘I don’t think so,’ countered Brook. ‘You’ve been coerced into a confession to draw attention from the brothers. Max killed Kassia. It’s his van, his hammer, his blowtorch – he’s got a history of drunkenness and sexual violence …’

  ‘I killed her, I tell you.’

  ‘Then where’s Nick?’ demanded Brook. ‘Tell me where he is and I�
��ll write out your confession for you.’

  ‘Nick has nothing to do with this,’ said Tanner, beginning to sag in his chair. ‘He’s just a child.’

  ‘A child? We have a witness and film of both of you dumping the victim’s body before setting fire to the van.’

  Tanner was sullen. ‘Nick didn’t know there was a body inside.’

  ‘Come on.’

  ‘He didn’t know.’

  ‘He ran away from the crime scene pretty smartly. So where is he?’

  ‘I don’t know.’

  ‘Did Ostrowsky stash him away somewhere until you’re charged?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Jake, I think Inspector Brook is trying to help you,’ said Gillstrap finally. ‘He’s giving you a chance to do yourself some good.’

  ‘Then let me sign a confession,’ demanded Tanner. ‘I killed Kassia. I don’t know where my brother is and I don’t care. He’s over eighteen. He can go where he likes. Now give me a pen. I want to put this behind me and get some sleep.’

  Brook glanced up at the red dot of the camera on the ceiling. This was going to be tough to sell to Charlton, doubtless squirming in front of the monitor next door. Brook had half expected him to charge in and stop the interview. Asking his boss to believe that Tanner’s confession was false would go against the grain.

  ‘Interview suspended at twenty-two forty.’ He leaned into the machine to stop the recording. ‘Jake, I’m going to make you an offer and I want you to think about it very seriously. Assuming Ostrowsky is holding your brother—’

  ‘He isn’t.’

  ‘Let me finish. If Nick is being held, that tells me you didn’t kill Kassia. If you confirm that verbally, I’ll put out a statement that you’ve been arrested and charged and you’ll be held in a cell until we find your brother safe and well. What do you say?’

  ‘Jake?’ said Gillstrap. ‘If DI Brook is right, speak now.’

  Tanner gazed at Brook. ‘I want to sign a confession and I want to do it now.’

  In the incident room, Brook made a beeline for DC Cooper. ‘Anything?’

  Cooper clicked his mouse three times. ‘See for yourself.’ Noble walked in and Brook beckoned him over. They watched Nick Tanner stroll through the Intu Centre on Cooper’s monitor, accompanied by a bulky, dishevelled man in dusty overalls. Nick didn’t appear to be under duress as the pair moved towards the exit.

  ‘The camera’s some distance away—’ began Cooper.

  ‘That’s Max Ostrowsky,’ interrupted Brook, glancing at Noble.

  ‘I think you’re right.’

  ‘Get a car round to his flat and arrest him for kidnap.’

  Noble picked up a phone. ‘DNA?’

  ‘First order of business. Where did they go after leaving the Intu, Dave?’

  ‘Brook. Are you out of your mind?’ Charlton was striding across the room. ‘I’ve already arranged a press conference for tomorrow morning. This is a good closure.’

  ‘He didn’t do it.’

  ‘You forget I was watching,’ said Charlton. ‘Jake Tanner confessed – no matter how hard you tried to talk him out of it.’

  ‘Sir …’

  ‘We have film of him dumping the body,’ said Charlton, counting on his fingers. ‘We have a witness who saw them run and we have a confession. That’s what we call a result around here, so when are you going to charge him?’

  ‘His brother’s missing and Jake’s been coerced into a confession,’ said Brook. ‘There are inconsistencies in his statement …’

  ‘Coerced by whom?’

  ‘Grzegorz Ostrowsky.’

  ‘The bar owner?’

  ‘Ostrowsky’s protecting his brother. I think Max killed Kassia. He has a history of violence and sexual assault in Poland.’

  ‘By history, you mean convictions,’ said Charlton, pouncing on Brook’s choice of words.

  Brook hesitated. ‘Some arrests.’

  ‘I see. Can you prove that Max Ostrowsky killed Kassia Proch?’

  ‘Not yet,’ said Brook softly.

  ‘I’ll take that as a no.’

  ‘Sir, Nick Tanner is dependent on Jake for everything. They were together when they torched the van. They wouldn’t have split up.’

  ‘Maybe he’s hiding in that flat they broke into,’ said Charlton, sarcastically.

  ‘I just got the call,’ said Noble, rejoining Brook. ‘It’s empty.’

  ‘They were there?’

  Noble looked hesitantly at Brook. ‘It looks that way.’

  Charlton’s demeanour darkened. ‘So how the hell was that missed?’ he barked. ‘The same bloody tower block.’ Silence broke out and all heads in the room turned to see blood spill.

  ‘My fault,’ replied Brook coldly. ‘I relied on uniform to do the legwork.’ If a pin dropped, nobody heard it, and the silence crackled with unspoken anger. But far from taking the wind out of Charlton’s sails, a volcanic rage seemed to bubble up through him and he jabbed a finger into Brook’s chest.

  ‘We have a confession; I want Tanner charged. Now! Get him in front of the magistrates first thing in the morning and stick one in the win column. Then we question him about Caitlin and the others. Understood?’

  Brook stared back at Charlton’s animated expression, aware that he had nothing but a theory to void a signed confession. ‘There’s no connection between Kassia Proch’s murder and the other missing girls. I should’ve realised sooner.’

  ‘You don’t know that,’ scoffed Charlton.

  ‘I know Tanner was in prison when Valerie Gliszczynska disappeared.’

  Charlton was on the back foot for a second before clambering on to safer ground. ‘You haven’t answered my question. Will you charge Tanner, or do I need to do it?’

  Brook’s gaze fell. ‘I’ll do it,’ he said quietly, though by this time Charlton, anticipating victory, was already storming away. When the incident room door slammed, Brook looked uneasily round at his team, their faces turned to him for a reaction. ‘That went well.’ The assembled detectives laughed before returning to their work, the hubbub of normality restored.

  Cooper sidled up. ‘Nick got into a black Mercedes outside the Traffic Street entrance. It belongs to Ostrowsky. No sign of coercion. I’m working on a route.’

  Thirty

  26 April

  Banach felt a hand gently touch her shoulder to rouse her.

  ‘Are you okay, Angie?’ said Helen Cowell.

  Banach yawned and stretched in the chair. ‘Good, thanks.’

  ‘You’ve been crying.’

  Banach reached up to feel the dry tackiness on her cheeks. ‘Just tired.’ She stood to get feeling back into her legs, looking down at Mitch sleeping peacefully. The drip had been removed and only a fresh bandage around his skull was evidence of injury. ‘Been a hard week.’

  Cowell smiled. ‘It’s after two. You should go.’

  ‘I’d like to stay a while longer,’ said Banach. ‘I can’t face going home.’ Cowell submitted with a sigh. ‘Thank you.’

  ‘How’s … everything?’

  Banach laughed. ‘You should’ve been a diplomat. No decision yet.’

  ‘Have you spoken to the father?’

  Banach rolled her eyes towards the sleeping policeman. ‘He doesn’t know yet. But I made an appointment at the Rutherford.’

  ‘I see,’ said Cowell. ‘Constable Ryan will be discharged in the morning, if that helps.’

  ‘Doctor …’

  Cowell smiled. ‘You want to tell him yourself. I understand. Mum’s the word.’

  ‘Interesting choice of words,’ said Banach.

  Brook and Noble’s footsteps echoed on the exposed floorboards. It took them only a minute to confirm that Max Ostrowsky had left his three-room flat in a hurry.

  ‘I thought Tanner’s flat was bare,’ said Noble, looking around. The main room contained only an armchair – no carpet or curtains – and the floor was littered with half-eaten takeaway cartons, full ashtrays, crushed cigarette pa
ckets and empty vodka bottles. The bedroom contained only a single sleeping bag, though this time the detritus was confined to teeming ashtrays and Styrofoam cups.

  ‘It’s an identical sleeping bag to the one in the Cream,’ said Brook, examining a label.

  ‘At least DNA shouldn’t be a problem.’

  A uniformed constable appeared at the door, ushering a whiskered old man in front of him.

  ‘You have information about Max?’ said Noble.

  ‘Is that his name?’ said the old man, moving his eyes around the room. ‘Fuck me! What a shithole. You wouldn’t think he’d know someone with a Merc.’

  ‘Did you see him leave?’

  ‘Aye, carrying a holdall.’

  ‘And he got into a Mercedes.’

  ‘With some bald bloke big as a brick shithouse. I kept my door closed, I can tell you.’

  ‘When was this?’

  ‘Few hours ago. Maybe six.’

  Brook beckoned Noble outside on to Arboretum Street, where the squad car lights were still flashing. ‘Forget local and house-to-house, John. If Ostrowsky’s got any sense, he’ll get Max out of the country. It’s the smart move.’

  ‘Ports and airports,’ nodded Noble.

  Zeke put an ear to Caitlin’s mouth. ‘She’s still breathing.’

  ‘Good.’ Red withdrew the white-hot iron from the blowtorch flame. ‘Hold her head.’

  Zeke held Caitlin’s skull to the ground while Red moved the hot iron closer to the bubbling wound. With a quick movement she touched the iron against the damaged tissue and held it for a few seconds, ignoring the sizzle of evaporating blood and burning flesh.

  ‘There,’ she said, tossing the iron on to the concrete. ‘It’s in God’s hands now.’

  The distant sound of a phone ringing distracted them.

  ‘At this hour?’

  Red ran to the house while Zeke plunged his broken hand into a bucket of icy water and splashed his bloody cheek clean. Then he opened the steel door leading off the main barn and pulled on the handle of a circuit breaker. Dormant machinery inside the unit began to hum. With his good hand, he gripped Daniela’s long hair and dragged her body towards the darkened room.

  He didn’t notice Caitlin’s eyes open briefly at the noise of Daniela’s body being hauled away, instead setting to work with the unit’s high-powered machinery.

  He reappeared a few minutes later in a bloodstained rubber apron, steaming faintly in the cold night air. He carried a large steel pan covered with a lid.