by John Stewart
Clarissa Briggs was from a wealthy political family and her disappearance resulted in the initialisation of a large scale search across the city, but her body was ultimately discovered in the early hours of the following morning in a field beside the mixed bathing pond on Hampstead Heath. She was found by a morning walker by the name of Mathew Simms. It turned out to be the second time Mr. Simms had discovered human remains in the area and was briefly considered to be a suspect, but the lack of any physical evidence and a sturdy alibi put him in the clear. He was listed as a person of interest for the remainder of the investigation.
“Mathew Simms, make a note of that name just in case,” Mike said, hoping for more information on him.
“Yes boss!” Rebecca replied with a sarcastically raised eyebrow.”
An unusual detail of the case was how Miss Briggs was positioned. She was placed beside a tree facing the nearby bathing pond and had eyes drawn in red marker on her closed eyelids. This detail really got their attention.
“Now we’re getting into it,” said Rebecca with a little more enthusiasm than she had been showing before.
Mike gave her a mildly judgmental look.
“Now who’s being flippant. Next you’ll be saying she was a cyclist and probably deserved it.”
Rebecca gave a less than convincing frown.
“Sorry, I’m just thinking about the story, it’ll make for dramatic stuff, given the right spin.”
Mike was conflicted in his response. On one hand, he was researching case details for a story, but his years as a conscientious Garda had left him with an underlying urge to work the case to its completion. He opted to bite his tongue and let Rebecca’s comments go.
“Suppose it will. Anyway, where were we?”
“Eyeballs,” said Rebecca in the most serious tone she could muster, clearly for Mike’s benefit.
“The toxicology report confirmed the cause of death to be a massive overdose of Methadone,” Mike said with a curious expression.
“That’s new,” added Rebecca as they read on in silence.
No drug paraphernalia was found anywhere near the body, nor was the red pen used to draw on the victim’s eyelids. These facts led the then Det. Simon Meadowcroft and his team to treat her death as suspicious and the investigation was given almost six months of funding. Every CCTV camera between the nightclub and the body dump site were requested and watched by teams of junior officers, but nothing useful was found. Family and friends were interviewed and all insisted she never touched drugs. In the end, the budget ran dry and despite protests from the prominent Briggs family, other cases took priority.
By the time Mike and Rebecca got through all the documented details and statements, they could see why Simon had become frustrated with the cases. Essentially these were perfect crimes. No witnesses, no obvious motives and no viable suspects. In a way, Mike felt a little relieved.
“Well, look on the bright side. If the rest of the cases are as dead end as the first two, we’ll be finished in no time.”
Upon hearing Mike’s comment via the hidden microphone he had installed in the ceiling, Simon left his room and knocked on the spare room door.
“Come in,” said Rebecca as Mike was placing another pin and note at the location where Clarissa Briggs was found.
“Just thought I’d see how you two are getting on. I know it’s not pleasant reading,” said an uneasy Simon standing in the doorway.
“Ah, it’s heavy going, no denying it, but we’re getting through it. Nothing much jumping out in the way of leads or connections as yet though,” Mike replied with a slight yawn.
Simon took a glance around the room and then towards the map. “If there are answers to be found, I’m sure you two will find them.”
Rebecca turned to pack up her things.
“Well, we’re happy to come back tomorrow if that’s okay with you?”
Simon looked surprised. “Ah, tomorrow is Sunday. I wouldn’t expect you to work ….”
“It’s really no trouble, we usually work Sundays anyway,” Rebecca said, interrupting him.
“All the same, I have some errands to run tomorrow and I’m expecting company.”
“Enough said, we’ll be back bright and early Monday morning so,” said Mike with a slight grin.
They finished packing up and Simon showed them down to the car park. As they drove off, he collected his mail from the downstairs postbox and took the lift back up to the apartment. Once inside, he returned to his bedroom and laid out the post on his bedside table. Most of it was junk mail and bills, but one envelope stood out. Staring at the blue envelope, he slowly opened the built-in drawer. Inside the drawer, there was another blue envelope, identical to the one he had just received but frayed with age. He took it out and held it up to the new one. The matching handwriting confirmed his fear that it was from the same person. He opened the new envelope, removed a note from inside and read it aloud as tears welled in his eyes.
Chapter 7
Following Simon’s insistence, Mike and Rebecca found themselves with a day off and they were in the middle of enjoying it when Mike’s phone rang for the third time in a row.
“Don’t answer it,” Rebecca pleaded as he reluctantly leaned out of the bed to see who was calling.
“It’s Ray, you know what that means.” He let out a heavy sigh and answered. “Ray, what’s up?”
“Alright Danny Boy! Can you peel yourself away from your mystery story for a few days? We could do with someone to make the tea down here and the boss suggested you,” Ray said with a sarcastic laugh.
Mike looked over at Rebecca, who was shaking her head, mouthing the word ‘No,’ and lowering the bed sheets in a playful attempt to get him to stay in bed. He laughed, raising his eyes to the ceiling.
“I’m making some good progress here Ray, what do you kids need my help with?” Making it clear, he and Ray both knew that if anyone were to be making the tea, it certainly would not be Mike.
Ray dropped the jokes and gave the real reason he needed help. “Ah, there’s a few interviews that need to be done for this white power group story I’m on and you’re the man with the skills, I need ya mate.”
Mike sighed, not hiding his annoyance.
“How long?”
“Two, maybe three days max. I wouldn’t ask if I didn’t need you. I’ll never get it finished in time without you. The sooner you come in, the sooner you’ll be done.” Ray was bordering on begging at that point.
“Okay, I’ll see you in an hour,” Mike said before hanging up the phone and turning to Rebecca with an exaggerated frown. “I have to go into the office for a couple of days. Phillips wants me to do some interviews for him.”
Rebecca sighed in disappointment and fell back on her pillow. “God, he’s useless when he wants to be. What do you want to do about Simon’s cases? Will we just wait the few days?”
“No, you carry on. I’ll plough through them and hopefully I can be back with you by Tuesday,” he said as he jumped out of bed before she could stop him. “Try not to crack the rest without me, you’ll ruin my rep.”
Kissing her on the forehead, he ran for the shower.
***
With Mike busy holding interviews back at the office, Rebecca spent the day catching up on some social correspondence and reading. She was asleep in bed before Mike arrived back and hadn’t stirred by the time he left the following morning. The only reason she knew he had even come home was an empty cereal bowl in the sink and a post-it note saying ‘Happy Monday,’ with a smiley face on the fridge door. Taking a smaller leaf from Mike’s book on early starts, she was up and on the way to Simon’s by 8am.
When she arrived, Simon buzzed her in, looking a little surprised to see she was alone.
“Hello, Miss Hollister. No Mr. Wesley today?”
“Hi Simon, no sadly I’m flying solo today. Mike got called into the office for a couple of days. He’s trying to get wrapped up as soon as possible. That’s not a problem is it?”
“No, not at all, I’ve read your work. You’re quite the investigator in your own right. Please, excuse me. I’ll let you get to it. Just give me a shout if you need anything.”
“Thanks, I might try one of those fancy coffees if you don’t mind. Mike has been raving about them.”
“Coming right up,” Simon said with a smile.
Pulling out the files for the next case, Rebecca couldn’t help but wonder what the objective was. The first two cases were clearly unsolvable with the available evidence and she suspected that the rest would be no different. As she looked at the map on the wall, she couldn’t help but feel that there was more to the cases than they were being led to believe.
Before her inner conspiracy theorist stole the day with fantastic possibilities of what could be, Simon returned with her coffee and brought her mind back to the case in hand.
“One fancy coffee, as requested.”
“Oh, thank you,” Rebecca said, taking the clear glass coffee cup.
As Simon left, she placed it on the table, switched on her audio recorder and began narrating the summary report.
Next up was the gruesome killing of thirty-one-year-old Kimberly Barnes on June 18th, 2010. Kimberly was a tattoo artist from Bath and was spending the weekend in London when she was killed. While out clubbing in Soho, she was separated from her group of friends, but unlike the Clarissa Briggs case, they did not report her missing. Her body was discovered forty minutes’ drive away in Brenchley Gardens two days later. The cause of death was once again a Methadone overdose. Rebecca noted the similarities between this and the previous case of Clarissa Briggs. Just as in the Briggs murder, no needle was found at the scene and she was positioned against a tree. There was one major difference, however; Clarissa Briggs had eyes drawn on her closed eyelids whereas Kimberly Barnes had her eyelids completely removed.
Upon reading that section, Rebecca went straight for the crime scene pictures and what she saw was horrifying. Kimberly was obviously an attractive young woman, but the sight of her without eyelids was a startling image for anyone to see. Looking at the close-up shots gave Rebecca an uneasy feeling, almost as if Kimberly was looking back at her. She put the pictures away and returned to the report. The M.E. concluded that the eyelids were removed postmortem with a very sharp blade, possibly a scalpel, which was a small mercy for the victim. Still, the very thought of it made Rebecca cringe.
As she continued on through the statements, stopping periodically for some more of Simon’s posh coffee, she could see it was going the same way as the last two cases. Again the friends were of no help, there were no witnesses of any value, the CCTV yielded nothing suspicious and the two people who discovered her body were elderly dog walkers. One fact that could not be ignored was that the cause of death was identical to the previous case. This only reinforced Rebecca’s feeling that there was more to the cases than was apparent from the outset. What she then began to wonder was, how much had Simon already put together?
As if he heard her thoughts, Simon knocked at the door, giving her a start. “Hey, sorry to interrupt. I’m out of milk and it’s getting late, so I thought I’d pop down to the shops before they close. Can I get you anything or are you wrapping up for the evening?”
Rebecca thought for a moment and looked at the files covering the table. “I’ll be another while wrapping up here, but no, I’m fine thanks. Will I just close up behind me if you’re not back before I leave?”
“Ah, I’ll only be fifteen minutes or so. It’s only down the road.”
“Okay, I’ll be here so,” said Rebecca as she pinned the location on the map and began gathering up the scattered files.
Once Simon left for the shops, Rebecca walked to the window in the living room and looked down at the blustery streets below. Seeing him walk down the road, she decided to have a look around his apartment. She didn’t know what it was she was looking for, but her gut told her that he knew more about the cases than he was saying. After a quick rummage through some papers next to his coffee table, she headed into Simon’s bedroom, feeling a twinge of guilt as she let herself in. She valued her own privacy and knew she was overstepping a line, but her curiosity was ruling her actions.
In the room, she saw a large double bed to the right with a bedside table and chair at the far side of it. She walked around the bed, quickly checking her watch in anticipation of Simon’s return. On the table, she saw a laptop, a set of headphones and a wire that led to the ceiling. The laptop wasn’t fully closed and to her surprise, when she opened it, she had full access to its contents. Browsing through the desktop folders, she found a subfolder containing audio recordings labeled by date. Seeing the dates matched up with her and Mike’s time in the house, she opened one.
Hearing her own voice talking to Mike on the first day they began working there sent a chill down her spine.
“What the hell is he taping us for?” she said aloud as she sat on the chair and stopped the playback. Checking her watch again, she ran a search for case details from the first three they had been working on. The search revealed nothing, so she closed out of the browser and left the laptop as it was. She was about to leave when she noticed the built-in drawer under the table. She quickly opened it and saw several A4 sized papers and two matching envelopes. Both envelopes were hand written and addressed to Simon. One looked well worn as if it had been repeatedly opened and closed over time, whereas the other looked recently posted, judging by the crisp feel of the paper and the gummy residue on the seal. She took them out, feeling another wave of guilt, knowing she was going to read whatever was inside. The newer envelope had no stamp, which told Rebecca it was hand delivered or given to Simon in person. Inside there was a single piece of paper. The writing on the paper simply said ‘Only one more resolution to keep.’ The statement meant nothing to her, so she opened the older envelope. Inside was a copy of a photograph. She took it out and studied the group of happy faces, huddled together all holding drinks. As she looked closer, her eyes widened and the hairs on the back of her neck began to slowly stand on end. A sickening feeling arose in her stomach and she quickly took a photograph of it with her phone. Putting the picture back as quickly as she could, she returned the envelopes to the drawer and stood up from the chair.
Before she could take a step, she heard a creaking noise coming from the living room. She froze on the spot and listened, standing there, she remembered the can of pepper spray in the spare room and how useless it was in the bottom of her bag. She waited another few seconds but could hear nothing. Slowly, she ebbed her way around the bed and out the door, feeling her heart beating wildly in her chest. She eased into the living room and saw all was clear.
Taking a relieving deep breath, she walked back to the window to see if there was any sign of Simon, but as she looked out across the street, she heard the same creaking noise she had heard from the bedroom. Only this time it was directly behind her.
Her eyes bulged momentarily as she caught the reflection of a face in the window. The street hum below fell silent and the last thing she heard was a quick whoosh of air followed by the sound of the impact to her head as it split open with brutal force. The spark of life left her eyes and her body fell limp at the feet of her attacker.
Chapter 8
It had long passed clocking off time for Mike, but he wanted to finish typing up the interviews he’d been conducting since Ray’s call on Sunday morning. The office was empty, aside from himself and an overzealous intern he knew only by the nickname Twinkles. Mike assumed the name was a reference to the young man’s sexuality, but never got involved in the younger staff’s non-PC comments. He’d had years of that with previous jobs and the repetition had gotten stale long ago.
With one last interview left to transcribe, he decided to make a fresh cup of coffee and was standing in the kitchen area when his phone rang. He didn’t recognise the number and opted to give his formal greeting.
“Hello, Mike Wesley.”
The voice on the
other end of the line seemed apprehensive and almost unsure of what to say.
“Yes, hello, Mr. Wesley. My name is Nurse Claire Swindon with University College Hospital. I’m afraid… I have some bad news Mr. Wesley.”
The shudder of fear that went through Mike weakened his legs. He knew it was about Rebecca before the nurse on the other end of the phone said another word.
“It’s Miss Hollister, she’s been…” She took a breath. “Well, she’s been attacked. You need to get to over here as soon as possible, the doctors say she’s touch and go.” She continued to speak for a few seconds before she realised that Mike was no longer on the other end of the line.
He ran out of the building and got in the nearest taxi he could stop. As he got in the cab, he struggled to repeat the hospital’s name, but the driver got the gist of what he was trying to say and that he was in a hurry. Looking at Mike’s obvious distress in the rearview mirror, the driver opted not to ask questions and focus on getting to the hospital as fast as possible. Sitting in the back seat, Mike’s head was spinning. Every conceivable scenario ran through his mind, from a mugging to rape, to old enemies seeking payback. All at once, he played out his entire future without her in it and every other version should she survive. He didn’t know any details, aside from the nurse’s words ‘Touch and go,’ which were replaying incessantly in his ears.
After what felt like an eternity, the driver pulled up as close to the hospital doors as he could get. Mike threw him a fifty pound note and ran inside before the driver could offer him his change. Reaching the main reception, he failed in his attempt to calmly ask for Rebecca’s details. His emotions took over and he found himself shouting at the young woman behind the desk. Judging by her measured reaction to Mike’s outburst, she was well accustomed to taking abuse from members of the public on what was often the worst days of their lives. Having deciphered the bulk of Mike’s juxtaposed stream of details, she checked the system and directed him to the intensive care unit.