by Helen Fields
‘I want a lawyer,’ she said.
‘Did you abduct her?’
‘I’m not answering any more questions.’ Astrid buttoned her shirt back up dramatically, crossed her arms and stared at the desk.
Callanach considered the lengths she’d gone to. It took a peculiar state of mind to pursue someone so far and with so much passion. She would keep the game going as long as he was here to play it. The only way to win was to deprive her completely of her goal.
‘All right,’ he said, ‘but I’m busy. We have sufficient grounds to question you further. I have more important matters to attend to, though. Wait here. I’ll get a constable to conduct the interview. You won’t have any further dealings with me.’ He walked to the door.
‘Stop,’ she said. ‘You stop right there. You’re just going to walk out, after everything?’
‘Yes,’ he said. ‘I have priorities.’
‘You bastard,’ Astrid hissed. ‘Priorities? You think you can find Ava Turner without me? Within two hours you’ll be begging for my help.’ Her face was snarled, twisted. As much as Callanach longed to race back in, grab her by the neck and wring the information out of her, he knew it wouldn’t work like that.
‘Like I said, I’m very busy. I’ll have an officer with you soon. In the meantime, I’ll send the custody sergeant to process and caution you.’ He let the door swing shut.
A few seconds later he heard the latch go. He was halfway up the corridor when Astrid began yelling.
‘Fuck you. I saw him take your precious Detective Inspector Turner. He’ll kill her. You get back here right now or her blood will be on your hands.’
Callanach turned, moving back down the corridor towards Astrid, stopping opposite the interview room door, leaning against the wall and staring in. ‘Where?’ he asked her through the open doorway. ‘Where did you see this?’
‘I’m saying nothing until you come back into this room,’ Astrid screeched.
‘Give me some facts so I know I can believe you, or I’ll make sure you never see me again.’
‘I followed you after work,’ she said. ‘You went to that professor’s house, the one your girlfriend is so keen on. I waited all night for you to come out but you didn’t. You stayed pandering to that stupid woman, making a fuss about those little notes. And yes, I know all about the case. Don’t make the mistake of thinking I don’t have friends inside this police station.’
‘I don’t give a damn who you’re friendly with. I want to know why you stood by and did nothing while a police officer was being abducted!’ Callanach growled.
‘I had no idea it was Turner until he pulled her out of the car.’
Callanach moved through the doorway so fast that Astrid had no time to brace. He pulled her against him, gripping her upper arm with one hand, raising the other to point in her face.
‘If you’re lying …’ he said. He didn’t have to finish the threat – his face said it all.
‘I’m not,’ Astrid replied, ‘but I’m saying nothing more until you guarantee in writing that I won’t be prosecuted, not for the letter I sent her, not for anything I tell you about last night.’
‘Astrid, there’s no time,’ Callanach said, torn between violence and begging.
‘And you’ll stay with me until it’s sorted out. We’ll talk about France, about our old friends, how it used to be. That’s how this is going to work.’
Tripp entered the interview room, followed by Lively. They both froze when they saw Callanach with Astrid in his grasp.
‘Constable, get me someone from the Procurator Fiscal’s office who has the authority to grant immunity,’ Callanach said. Tripp was gone without a second’s pause. Callanach looked at Lively. ‘What do you want, Sergeant?’
‘Rory Hand. He couldn’t answer the questions about when he killed Buxton and Magee. He went no comment then lawyered up. I came to say I’m sorry. I think maybe you were right.’
‘It’s a bit bloody late for that,’ Callanach said, pushing Astrid back down into her seat.
Chapter Thirty-Eight
King relished the confusion in Ava’s eyes when she saw the women on their beds. Neither of them said a word. He gave his latest guest the opportunity to use the toilet before securing her to the bed. The intimacy with their personal habits was an aspect of being a guardian he disliked, but it gave him an additional element of power.
‘Could I have more painkillers, please, Dr King?’ Elaine whispered.
He thought about it. She was consuming an awful lot lately. Still, there were worse things than an addiction to prescription drugs and it certainly made her easier to bear.
‘I’ll get you some paracetamol but you have to help me with your new friend. Secure that cable tie around her wrist and the bed post. Not too tightly! We don’t want to cut off the circulation.’
‘Don’t do it,’ Ava said to her. ‘Elaine, I’m a police officer, you don’t have to help him.’
‘She does have to,’ King whispered, ‘don’t you, my dear?’
Elaine nodded feebly.
‘Or what will I do?’ King kept the knife pointed at Ava while Elaine tied her up.
‘You’ll get the ruler out again,’ she said.
Ava looked to Jayne. It didn’t take a genius to realise he’d broken Elaine, snapped her inner fortitude into so many useless fragments, but he hadn’t expected the gutsy detective inspector to give up on her quite that fast. Jayne was praying. Same old same old.
‘Now, Ava, I don’t want you inciting these girls to riot.’ He giggled at the notion of it. ‘Let me explain why. If one of you behaves in a way that is detrimental to the well-being of our community here, I will have to punish another among your number. Hence, if you are difficult with me, I shall have to do things to Jayne that she really will not enjoy.’
‘Jayne,’ Ava said. ‘Can you talk to me? Jayne Magee, help will come.’
‘That’s exactly what I was talking about,’ King said. ‘Normally I would be more lenient on your first day. I expect a bit of kerfuffle while you get settled, but I’m shattered and I think you need to fully comprehend the position you’re in.’ He unlocked a drawer, took out two tablets and gave them to Elaine with a plastic tumbler of water. ‘See how kind and considerate I can be?’ He withdrew another item from the drawer that he kept folded in his hand. Ava strained her neck to watch what he was doing.
King stood at Jayne’s bedside. The chant of her prayer had risen in volume and she wasn’t making eye contact with him. Elaine had swallowed her medicine and was in the process of sliding under her bed clutching a pillow and blanket. There was a vague humming coming from where she was hiding, something childish and repetitive.
‘She’s regressing,’ King said sagely to Ava. ‘Lesson number one, DI Turner. Do not think you can ignore the warnings I give you.’
He grabbed Jayne’s nose with his left hand, pinching it viciously. She squealed, heaving her body up and down, on and off the mattress, fighting to get away but his grip was vice-like. It was odd, he thought, as he positioned the bulldog clip in his hands, how he had been so weak as a child. No good at sports, never strong enough to help his father with lifting or woodwork. But recently, in his late middle age, when he’d needed it most, he had the strength of a bear. It wasn’t so much mind over matter as freedom from worrying about it. His brawn in the heat of the moment was effortless.
He squeezed then released the metal clip onto Jayne’s tongue, allowing the spring to close with a twang. Her eyes rolled as the pain dug in, then she was awake again, crying, screaming, gagging.
‘You have Miss Turner to thank for that,’ King said. ‘Perhaps later today when I return you’d like to think of some way to repay her. It being a Saturday, and as I’ve not slept for eighteen hours, I’m off to rest. I’m sure you could use some as well.’
‘Take it off her,’ Ava shouted.
King could hear Elaine’s mantra of ‘no, no, no’ from beneath her bed. She was shaping up to be the most
sensible of them all. Even Jayne was fighting through the agony to shake her head wildly at Ava.
‘I don’t think the good reverend wants you to intervene any further,’ he said. ‘I think she’d like you to behave in a way that does not result in me taking more drastic action.’ Jayne was nodding fiercely, almost growling at Ava.
‘I’m sorry,’ Ava said quietly.
‘I don’t think we could hear you over the other ladies’ noise,’ King said. ‘Say again, please.’
‘I said I’m sorry,’ Ava yelled at him. ‘All right? I’m sorry.’
‘Good,’ King said. ‘Now, Jayne, don’t you move that clip! You’ll find that the pain will die down naturally in a couple of hours. And Elaine, don’t you be tempted to help your friend by relieving her of it. You may be unrestrained now, but that doesn’t mean you’re free to do as you wish. Not if you don’t want to experience first hand just how excruciating this is. Very interesting history, though. It’s a form of punishment that was used popularly in Colonial America to encourage nagging wives to talk less. Seems appropriate. I shall leave some music on for you. Might help take your mind off it, Jayne.’
As he left, one of Rachmaninoff’s piano concertos filled the air. King listened at the door for a moment after he locked it, but heard no voices. They would talk later, when he was asleep. It didn’t matter. They would say what a monster he was and how they hated him, make plans and imagine rescuers winging their way to them. Let them have their fantasies, he thought. If that was all they had left of their former lives, who was he to deprive them of such paltry comfort? They would adapt very soon and, if any of them failed to do so, he’d have one less decision to make.
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Callanach was back in the interview room. Astrid’s deal had been done. Lively was in the monitoring room, watching the remainder of the interview unfold. Callanach wished he could change places with him. He had no desire to be in such close proximity to Astrid for a single second longer.
‘You have everything you wanted,’ Callanach said, ‘and I’m losing my patience.’
‘Not everything,’ Astrid replied. ‘I want a signed letter guaranteeing you will not apply for another injunction.’
‘Ava Turner is in the hands of a madman. Stop playing fucking games, Astrid.’
‘Write it out and I’ll start talking.’
‘God damn it,’ he shouted as he grabbed a sheet of paper and scribbled. ‘There, tell me what you saw and make it fast.’
‘You admit you have feelings for her, then,’ Astrid said. ‘I thought so when I saw the two of you going to her car.’
‘DI Turner is a colleague and I’m doing my job. If you don’t start talking, though, I can be replaced by someone less tolerant.’
‘All right, calm down, Detective Inspector,’ she said acidly. ‘It was about one thirty in the morning. I didn’t know who it was at first, you understand. Turner’s car was parked a long way from mine and under trees. I noticed the car door opening because the interior light came on. There was a minute when I couldn’t see what was happening, then a man hauled her out of the car and walked her up the road, towards me, into another vehicle. I only recognised her face as he dumped her in his car.’
Callanach interrupted. ‘Can you describe him?’
‘Not really, it was too dark. He wasn’t that tall, Caucasian, rather heavily built, out of shape, you know, wearing a hat and glasses. I can’t do any better than that.’
‘What then?’
‘He put her in his car, must have been the back seat because he opened and closed two doors before driving off.’
‘She was in the rear passenger seat?’ Callanach asked.
‘I assume so,’ Astrid said, leaning her head on one hand as if bored. Callanach fought his temper. ‘When the car pulled out, I still didn’t realise what was happening but I watched more closely.’
‘Why?’ Callanach asked.
‘Because he failed to put his headlights on straight away, not until he was nearly out of the road. And he did a three-point turn to leave in the opposite direction, not past me.’
‘I don’t understand how this helps,’ Callanach said.
‘It helps because I had binoculars and I took down the registration number. He was driving a black four-by-four, a Nissan.’ She took out her mobile and opened a notebook app. ‘Here’s the plate.’
Callanach took her mobile and read out the licence number so the officers watching from the monitoring room could start checking it. That was when the interview room door burst open and Lively flew in.
‘You had the licence plate all along?’ Lively yelled, grabbing Astrid. ‘You might have cost her her life!’
‘DS Lively,’ Callanach said. ‘Take your hands off her and get out.’
‘Your bloody fan club doesn’t get special privileges here,’ Lively shouted at him.
‘We have a lead, which is more than you managed by arresting the wrong man. Now leave.’
Lively cursed a few more times but did as he was told.
‘Thank you, Luc,’ Astrid said softly. ‘That was very gallant of you.’
‘Not out of choice,’ Callanach said. ‘I agree with my sergeant. But I’m not finished yet. How did they get from Ava’s car to his? Did he carry her?’
‘No,’ Astrid said. ‘She walked, sort of, as if she was staggering and he was supporting her.’
‘Chloroform,’ Callanach said. He stood up.
‘Wait!’ she said. ‘Is that it? When will I see you?’
‘You’re unwell, Astrid. I pity you, but there is no us and I never want to set eyes on you again. Try to understand.’
She smirked. ‘I hope he kills her. He’ll break your heart like you broke mine. Then you’ll come back to me. You’ll want me like you did before.’ Callanach left.
The licence plate came back within five minutes as having been scrapped. It only took one phone call to the Falkirk scrap yard and the threat of another red tape visit from the Health and Safety Executive to persuade the owner to reveal that the wrecked Nissan, presumed by the owners to have been crushed, had also ended up at Louis Jones’s.
‘Tripp!’ Callanach shouted as he stormed along the corridor towards his office. ‘Get Louis Jones here. I want every sheet of paperwork, his computer, mobile, absolutely everything, in the incident room straight away. Identify where those cars ended up. And I want to know Jones’s whereabouts each minute for the last month.’
‘Yes, sir,’ Tripp replied, poking his head out of the incident room and into the corridor. ‘And Dr Spurr’s waiting in your office. Said he knew you were busy and he’d wait.’
Callanach picked up Detective Constable Salter on his way back to his office. The pathologist greeted them with a heavy smile.
‘Detective Inspector,’ he said. ‘I wanted to come in person. I’m sorry about Ava. She sent the loveliest note to thank me for the Lagavulin. It’s hard to remain objective when one of our own is taken.’
‘I appreciate the visit,’ Callanach said, ‘but it’s bad timing. We’re waiting for a witness to be brought in and I need to read his file.’
‘It isn’t a social call,’ Spurr said, taking a file from his case. ‘I’d like you to take a look at these.’ He held up several large – scale photos.
‘What am I seeing?’ Callanach asked.
‘Teeth,’ Spurr said. ‘This was the one found near the baseball bat and not fire damaged, so it’s in the best condition to see the marks.’ He pointed out small shaded areas, linear, about two-thirds of the way down the tooth. ‘They look like deep ridges, don’t they? The forensic odontologist didn’t pick them up at first because we were only using the teeth for identification purposes.’
‘So what are they?’ Salter asked. ‘And how did they get there?’
‘We suspect, and I put it no higher than that, that they are damage to the enamel from a tool.’
‘So the marks could have been made by her dentist previously?’ Callanach said.
‘What about the other teeth?’ Callanach asked. ‘Are there marks on them?’
‘We think so,’ Spurr said, turning to other photos. ‘Look, here and here. It’s harder to see because of the fire damage but on this one,’ he held an extreme close up of a molar, ‘you can see the scrapes. They’re deep and they go right to the base of the tooth.’
‘So you’re saying the baseball bat wasn’t the cause of the teeth dislodging?’ Salter asked.
‘I’m saying that someone used forceps on her teeth and it seems logical that the damage occurred while the teeth were still in Elaine’s jaw, not afterwards. I checked with her dentist. He can’t guarantee she didn’t ever visit another practitioner but he certainly didn’t do this. He also said the marks were clumsy, misplaced. If we’re right, then …’
‘Then Elaine Buxton was tortured before she was killed. You believe her teeth were pulled out with forceps while she was still alive,’ Callanach said. Salter was a shade of green.
‘That I can’t be sure about,’ Spurr said. ‘But it seems more likely than after he killed her. There’d have been no point.’
‘Amateur dentistry?’ Salter said, her voice strangulated with the effort of not gagging. ‘How do you get the tools for that? And how could he have learned to do it?’
‘The implements can be ordered online from numerous websites and as for the training, there are emergency medicine manuals online. Not recommended reading, but they’ll do the trick.’
‘What about Jayne Magee?’ Callanach asked. He thought about each woman’s family and the fresh torment this news would add.
‘I checked with Ailsa Lambert. She’s terribly upset. I gather she’s a friend of DI Turner’s mother.’ Callanach nodded. ‘Magee’s teeth were so badly damaged by the chemicals that the odontologist couldn’t discern any specific marks. But if the teeth were extracted before death, it would explain the differing degrees of deterioration between the teeth and jaw bone.’