The Puppet Maker: DI Jack Brady 5

by Danielle Ramsay

  There was nothing Brady could add to that statement. He understood that Emily was one of the lucky ones. She had survived. Somehow. But now? He thought of Hannah. What had been done to her. They knew it was a male they were looking for, which was no surprise. Forensics had come back with shoe prints from the crime scene. Size eleven. But, as yet, they still had no other forensic evidence – biological or trace. The laboratory had the victims’ hair, clothing and jewellery in an attempt to find DNA evidence. Brady was hopeful. But it just took time. A luxury he wasn’t sure they had – at least not for Emily Baker. If she was the Puppet Maker’s latest victim, then the odds were stacked heavily against her. The media was filled with garish reports about the twelve murder victims. If the perpetrator was unaware that his collection had been discovered, it would not be long before it came to his attention. That in itself could be the death of Emily. Or any other victims he was holding hostage.

  ‘What about friends? Or a boyfriend? Did Emily ever mention any?’

  ‘No. Not really. Emily’s not that sociable. She was very quiet at school and sixth-form. She kept herself very much to herself. She had trust issues. Still has, I believe. Not that I can blame her. And as for boyfriends, no. She has never had a boyfriend to my knowledge. Or a girlfriend.’

  ‘I see.’

  ‘Have you contacted her tutor at Newcastle College? They will have a better idea of her friends than I have.’

  ‘Yes, I was just about to do that,’ Brady said as he looked over at Newcastle College.

  ‘If you find Emily, let me know will you?’

  ‘Or course,’ Brady replied. He was about to cut the call when he suddenly remembered something. ‘Sandra? There was another girl called Hannah Stewart who was also in North Tyneside Council’s care. She’s a few years older than Emily. Do you think they would ever have met at all?’

  ‘Maybe . . . Why?’

  ‘Hannah Stewart was found seriously injured last night and I need to know if there could be some kind of connection between them.’

  ‘Oh God!’

  Brady waited.

  ‘Is she all right? Not that I ever dealt with her but one of my colleagues would have worked with her.’

  ‘She’s in the RVI in a critical condition.’

  ‘Can I ask what happened to her?’

  ‘She was attacked. I’m afraid that’s all I can tell you.’

  ‘And you think whoever attacked Hannah Stewart could be a threat to Emily?’

  ‘Maybe. At this point, I can’t say for definite. So, I would ask you to keep this to yourself.’

  ‘Yes . . . Yes, of course.’

  ‘So, if you find some connection between Emily and Hannah, no matter how small, let me know?’

  Brady had just called Conrad and instructed him to check out the whereabouts of Emily Baker’s stepfather – Mark Sadler. Emily’s social worker had promised that she would cross-reference both Emily and Hannah’s records from when they were in care. He was aware that Hannah Stewart’s social worker had said that they had not shared the same schools, foster carers or children’s homes. But Brady was hoping that there was a cross-over. Otherwise, why would Hannah be repeating Emily’s name? The alternative was not worth thinking about. First, he needed to establish whether or not, Emily had been abducted, or whether it was just a coincidence.

  But that was Brady’s problem; he did not believe in coincidences.

  He got out of the car and walked over to the entrance. A security guard was behind his desk watching a TV. Brady knocked on the glass door and flashed his warrant card. A moment later and he was buzzed in.

  ‘Here to see Michael Philips?’

  Without looking at Brady the guard checked a list on a board beside him. ‘Photography department. First floor. Room 106.’

  Brady headed for the first floor. He had been in luck. When he had rung Emily’s tutor’s office number to leave a message the guy had picked up. He had decided to come in that day to collect a pile of students’ essays that he left behind on Friday evening. As soon as Brady explained his concerns he agreed he would wait there to meet him. He said he would rather deal with whatever questions Brady had at work, rather than back at home.

  Brady found his office. Knocked and waited.

  Michael Philips opened the door. ‘Detective Inspector Brady?’

  ‘Yes.’ Brady couldn’t help but notice Philips’ surprise at his appearance. It happened. Often. He didn’t look like your typical detective. At least not the stylishly suited and groomed ones on TV nowadays. ‘I appreciate you waiting for me.’

  Phillips shrugged as he walked back into the cluttered office. ‘We have a teething four-month-old at home. Having an excuse to catch up on my workload somewhere quiet suits me,’ he replied.

  Brady hazarded a guess that he was in his late thirties. Tall, dark-haired and good-looking. He imagined that Philips would be popular with his students.

  ‘Sit down,’ he offered.

  ‘Thanks.’ Brady sat down.

  ‘I believe this is what you requested,’ he said, handing over a sheet of paper that he had picked up from his desk.

  Brady took it. There was a small student ID photo clipped at the top corner. He stared at it. He felt sick. She looked familiar – too familiar. Young, pretty with rich, chocolate-brown coloured eyes and long, thick dark hair. He realised that he could have been staring at a photograph of any number of the suspect’s victims before they had been abducted.

  ‘Quiet student. Doesn’t like to talk a lot in seminars. Just keeps herself to herself,’ volunteered her tutor. ‘Her contact details are all on there,’ he added.

  Brady scanned his eyes down until he came to the next of kin details. There was nothing. Nor were there any emergency contact numbers. Only her mobile number, home address and her doctor’s practice.

  ‘I know,’ her tutor agreed, noting the disappointment on Brady’s face. ‘It’s highly irregular. The admin staff said she refused to explain why so they had no choice but to leave it blank.’

  Brady looked up at him. Resisted the temptation to defend Emily by stating that she had grown up in care. That she had no one. And that he imagined she sure as hell wished she had someone to put down as an emergency contact.

  ‘What about friends here?’

  He shrugged dismissively. ‘Nobody that stands out. Don’t get me wrong, she’s a lovely girl. Polite, always hands her assignments in on time. Great student in those terms but as for her social life, well she didn’t seem to have one. Her peers socialise together. Student parties, drinking in town. What you’d expect. But she has no part of that. Prefers her own company. Comes to college. Works. Goes home.’

  Brady nodded. ‘Why do you think that is?’

  ‘She’s different. Seems more mature than the other students. I think the fact that she lives out on the coast makes a difference. Most of her peers live in either college accommodation or in town.’

  ‘Can I talk to the students in her year?’ Brady asked.

  ‘If you like. But I honestly don’t believe you’ll find out anything more than I can tell you. They will be around in the morning if you want to have a chat with any of them.’

  ‘Thanks,’ Brady said, standing up to go. ‘I really appreciate your time. Hope you can get caught up with marking those assignments.’

  ‘More chance of it here than at home,’ he said, standing up to see him out of his office.

  Brady stopped. He hadn’t noticed the other coffee cup. It was sat on a filing cabinet behind Brady’s chair. Philips had one on his desk. Half-drunk. The other one was identical apart from the dark brown lip gloss around the rim.

  Philips caught Brady’s eye. ‘Personal tutorial. I decided to make the most of my time here.’

  ‘Do you often see your students out of hours?’

  ‘Sometimes. There’s no crime in that, is there?’

  ‘What about Emily? Did you see her after college hours?’ Brady asked.

  Philips narrowed his eyes.
‘I don’t like what you are suggesting, Detective Inspector Brady.’

  ‘I’m not suggesting anything. All I am trying to do is establish whether you had any contact with Emily outside of lectures or tutorials.’

  Philips looked at Brady, clearly annoyed at the question. ‘No. I had no contact with Emily Baker other than scheduled lectures or seminars.’

  ‘Anyone else at the college who might have seen her outside working hours?’

  Philips sighed heavily as he ran a hand over his designer stubble. Brady couldn’t help but notice the wedding ring. Not that Brady could judge. After all, he had been guilty of having an affair with a junior colleague. One that resulted in the end of his marriage.

  ‘She . . . she was interested in one of our lecturers here. Julian Fraser. He’s an internationally renowned artist and has a placement here for this academic year as our “artist in residence”. I do know that Emily had requested some personal tutorials from him.’

  Brady looked at him.

  ‘I only know because she asked me first whether it would be possible. Different departments you see. She is in the photography department and Julian works in the art department. It all comes down to budgets and who pays for whose time.’

  Brady nodded. ‘Emily was last seen leaving her flat for college late Friday morning. Did you see her that afternoon?’

  Philips shook his head. ‘No. I didn’t but I do believe that Julian had a personal tutorial with her booked in for Friday. Do you want me to give him a call?’

  ‘Better still, give me his contact details.’

  Five minutes later and Philips had a print of his colleague’s address and contact numbers. ‘You might catch him at his studio over in the art department. I passed him in the corridor about an hour back. He said that he was heading over to his studio to finish some work.’

  ‘Thanks,’ Brady said taking the information. ‘I’ll be back tomorrow to have a chat with the students in her year.’

  ‘Fine,’ Philips said heading for his office door. He held it open for Brady. ‘I really do hope nothing has happened to Emily.’

  ‘So do I,’ Brady stated. ‘One last question? Friday night, I take it you have an alibi?’

  ‘What exactly does that mean?’ Philips asked as his eyes flashed with anger.

  ‘It’s just a question.’

  ‘An impertinent one, at that.’

  ‘Well?’ questioned Brady, unable to ignore the tutor’s terse response.

  ‘I don’t see that as any of your business,’ Philips replied.

  ‘It will be if I take you in for questioning.’

  ‘And why would you do that?’

  ‘If I find that something has happened to Emily Baker.’

  ‘Don’t be ridiculous. You have no grounds to even consider me a suspect in any alleged disappearance. She may be a student, but that is as far as it goes. I have no idea what she gets up to in her free time.’

  ‘But the difference is you see your students in your own time,’ Brady said as he looked over at the stained half-drunk coffee cup.

  ‘Christ! That is ridiculous! I already told you before you arrived that I had scheduled a tutorial with a student who is having personal problems.’

  Brady nodded. ‘I can see that from the traces of brown gloss on your lips. I would think about wiping that off before you head home.’

  Philips glared at Brady.

  ‘I saw your student. The one with the personal problems sat downstairs reapplying her lip gloss. Pretty young thing. How old? Eighteen, if that? Whatever pep talk you gave her obviously worked. She looked very happy with herself.’

  ‘Right. If that’s all, I have work to do,’ Philips concluded as he turned his back on Brady and walked back to his desk. ‘Feel free to call in for a chat anytime.’

  ‘Believe me, I will do,’ Brady answered as he walked out.

  Brady found the art department. He was heading for Julian Fraser’s studio. He had already tried his office and he wasn’t there.

  He knocked on the door to the studio. Waited. Knocked again. He then tried the door handle. It was locked. He turned as he heard footsteps.

  ‘Can I help?’ the man asked as he approached Brady.

  ‘I’m looking for Julian Fraser.’

  ‘Can I ask why?’ he asked, frowning.

  Brady pulled out his warrant card. ‘I have a few questions I need to ask concerning a student registered at the college.’

  ‘I’m Julian,’ he said extending a hand out for Brady to shake.

  Brady took it. He had a firm, assertive grip.

  ‘How can I help?’

  ‘Is there somewhere we can talk?’ Brady asked.

  ‘I’m afraid I was just leaving. I am picking my wife up from town. How about we talk as I walk to my car?’

  Brady accepted his offer. He had a relaxed, friendly manner about him. He was roughly five foot ten with short blond hair and warm hazel eyes. Slim build. He was wearing faded jeans and a T-shirt. A casual, comfortable look that he pulled off.

  ‘Can I ask who you want to discuss?’ Julian questioned as he walked along the corridor.

  ‘A photography student by the name of Emily Baker.’

  Julian continued walking. If he had recognised the name, it didn’t show.

  ‘What’s happened?’ he asked as he turned to Brady.

  ‘We don’t know yet. From what we can gather she has been missing since Friday afternoon.’

  ‘Really?’ Julian said, surprised. He stopped walking. ‘I did see her for a tutorial on Friday for half an hour. It had been booked in for a fortnight. She left my office at three-thirty.’

  ‘Did she seem upset at all when you saw her?’

  He shook his head. Smiled at Brady. ‘Not at all. She was rather excited about a project she was working on. Had lots of ideas that she wanted to run by me.’

  ‘Such as?’ Brady asked.

  He shrugged. ‘Usual stuff you would expect from an eighteen-year-old. Not that interesting. But they are young. Still learning. So my job is to encourage them.’

  ‘Did she say if she would be working on her photography project this weekend?’ Brady asked. He was still hoping her disappearance was something innocent.

  ‘No. She didn’t say.’

  ‘What about anything personal? Such as plans to visit friends for the weekend?’

  Julian continued walking as he thought back. ‘No. I can’t say she mentioned anything. I don’t really know Emily that well. But she seems like a popular girl. Well-liked by the other students. She is one of many young people I see here. My job is to discuss their work. Not their personal lives.’

  ‘I understand,’ Brady answered as they reached the double doors leading out into the main reception area. ‘If you think of anything, give me a call,’ Brady said as he gave him a card with his contact details.

  ‘I will do. I’m sure she’ll turn up tomorrow after a weekend of partying. You know what students are like. I would check with her friends though. I’m sure they will be more help than I have been.’ He searched in his jeans pocket for his car keys. ‘Look I’ve got to dash. Sorry. Wife and all that.’

  ‘No problem. Thanks for your time,’ Brady said as he watched Julian Fraser walk briskly out the building. But it was clear that he didn’t really know Emily. Otherwise, he would have been aware that Emily had no friends to speak of. Otherwise Brady would have already talked to them.

  Brady took a swig of water from the bottle he had bought out of the vending machine.

  He had a bad taste in his mouth after his talk with Michael Philips. But the water seemed to be making no difference. Brady took another drink. He had his phone pressed to his ear, waiting for Conrad to answer.

  ‘Where the fuck have you been?’ questioned Brady as soon the call was picked up.

  ‘Dealing with the press, sir.’

  Brady took a deep intake of breath. He needed to steady himself. Public opinion of the Northumbrian force – and Brady – was low a
nd consequently, the press counted. Time had to be spent placating them, which was why Brady had asked Conrad to act in his place. Brady’s reaction would have been short and succinct. And one that they wouldn’t have liked. But it would have made great headlines.

  ‘Emily Baker is definitely missing. No sign of her at her flat and she hasn’t been seen since Friday afternoon when she left college. I just talked to her tutor who said that he last saw her at three-thirty p.m. when she left his office after a tutorial. Her phone has been switched off.’ Brady breathed out, trying to steady the rising panic he felt. He couldn’t rid himself of the grotesque image of the murder victims. Each one wearing masks of their own faces. Their own scalped hair. And identical Victorian-style long, white nightgowns. The macabre nature of it made it seem unreal. But it was very real.

  He heard Conrad breathe in. As if preparing himself for what was about to follow.

  ‘I checked out Mark Sadler, Emily Baker’s mother’s old boyfriend. He’s back inside.’

  ‘Shit!’

  ‘Why were you so interested in him?’

  ‘He was charged and convicted of abusing her when she was two years old. She’s suddenly disappeared. We know he is more than capable of hurting her. Past behaviour is a good indicator for future behaviour.’

  Conrad didn’t reply.

  ‘Anything else?’ Brady asked.

  ‘DNA results have come back on eight of the victims, sir. All with identical backgrounds. Young, vulnerable women, all prostitutes. No family to mention. Each one has been arrested or charged with soliciting. Their custody photos are identical to the face masks each victim was found wearing. The Christian names inscribed on each necklace also matches the victims’ actual names.’

  Brady instantly felt sick. The reality was too much. ‘What about the others?’ If they had been abducted years ago, even if they had also been prostitutes and arrested for soliciting, DNA swabs would not have been taken. The UK national DNA database was created in 1994. However, DNA samples were only taken from convicted criminals or those awaiting trial. Then in 2003 it was changed to allow DNA to be taken on arrest. Only the victims arrested after April 2004 when the law came into force would have had their DNA taken and stored in the database – regardless of whether they were charged, or convicted.