Sugar & Spice (US edition)

by Saffina Desforges

  “Well what Canter did was to mark out crime scenes on a map. Then draw a circle big enough to take in all those places, and somewhere within the circle is where the criminal would be found. Ceri could explain it much better. So what's the big deal? Uncle Tom's locked up, ain't he?”

  “We're not so sure.”

  “For real?”

  Matt looked at the kid. All of fourteen years old, his knowledge gained second-hand, through the sanitized protective filter of a news report, magazine or book. Was it right to involve the boy further?

  “Just listen carefully.”

  Danny's face lit up as Matt replayed the voice mail. “Yes! I knew it!”

  “Knew what?”

  “That it wasn't Randall. Anyone could see that.”

  “What? How?”

  “Remember that photo of him and his kids in the papers the other week?”

  “So?

  “So his daughters... Their faces were airbrushed to protect their identity – as if they could hide when their dad's front-page news – but their hair, it was loose brushed.”

  “As I said before, so?”

  “Well that's it. Their hair was loose brushed. Every girl killed had their hair put into braids or something similar, right? It was part of the ritual Uncle Tom went through. Obviously he has this thing about girls' hair. If he had any daughters of his own he wouldn't let them go about with their own hair loose like that. It was just too important to him.”

  Matt stared at the kid in wonderment. “Why the hell didn’t you say something before?”

  “I’m just the errand-boy. Remember?”

  Matt looked apologetic. “Okay, Danny, cards on the table. But just remember, professional ethics. This is strictly confidential.”

  “Have I ever let you down?”

  Danny listened in respectful silence, occasionally interjecting a pertinent question. They played Ceri's words over again and again.

  “She says he's killed twice.”

  “Yonkers was the Y, What about the X? You said there weren't any.”

  “I guarantee it. The computer doesn't lie. Not to me, anyway. It wouldn't dare. I'll run a check on the Xs again, just to be safe, but I promise you there's nothing.”

  “You can do it here if you like.”

  Danny cast a disparaging glance at Matt's computer. “On that dinosaur? Who made it? Clive Sinclair? I need to go home.”

  “So what are you waiting for?”

  Danny was half-way across the room when Matt said, “What are your plans for tonight?”

  The kid shrugged. “The usual.”

  “Meet me here, six-forty-five. Bring anything you can find with you. And don't go stuffing your face beforehand. You're coming to dinner at Claire's.”

  “For real?”

  “For real. Danny, you're on the payroll!”

  172

  “All I ever get at home is fries. This is scrumptious, Claire. Got any more?”

  “You certainly have an appetite.”

  “Real food! Doesn't happen very often. Mum can't cook, you see. Can't even boil an egg properly.”

  “Not many people can,” Matt assured him. “You'd be surprised how difficult it is to judge an egg correctly.”

  “Yeah, like you can, I s'pose? All you can make is coffee.”

  “Actually, Danny, Matt's a very good cook,” Claire came to Matt’s defense.

  Danny looked askance at Matt. “You big girl's blouse!”

  Matt aimed a playful hand at the boy's head. “Well, it looks like we're not going to hear from Ceri today after all. So whenever you're ready... Time to show Claire what you're really made of.”

  Danny scraped the plate clean before beginning.

  “It's like I said on the way, Matt. There's nothing that makes any sense. I've checked and double checked. There are no place names beginning with X, in New York City or anywhere else in the state, or even the country. I guarantee it. I've checked all the news sites for missing kids. The girl in Yonkers is still missing, but there's nothing to link her with Uncle Tom.”

  “It was worth a try. But I'm thinking maybe we should get a map of the whole state, on paper, and go over it with a magnifying glass, inch by inch, on the off-chance we turn up something like Jeremy did.”

  “Way ahead of you, Matt. As Ceri specifically mentioned the Big Apple I went and bought the map.”

  “Told you he was good, Claire.”

  Danny unfolded the map across the table. “But there's nothing. I’ve been over it twice.”

  Matt looked at the map. He trusted the kid’s judgment. “Okay, so let's move to Plan B.”

  “What's Plan B?”

  “ I was hoping you'd know.”

  Matt's cell phone interrupted them. “Let’s hope it’s Ceri.”

  “Matt, Gavin Large.”

  “Is Ceri with you?”

  “That's why I'm calling. Ceri missed my lecture today. Nothing new there, mind, but I asked around her friends and they're a little concerned. She hasn't been seen by anyone for a couple of days. When did you get that message?”

  “I got it this morning, but she left it yesterday evening sometime.”

  “That's a relief. I was beginning to worry. Maybe she's just sick. But her friends say she's been acting kinda odd recently.”

  “Odd?”

  “Spending too much time in the library. Researching. Not the kind of thing she normally does, you understand. And she's been in our biology department, asking about diabetes.”

  “Has she ever gone off like this before?”

  “Not that I know of, but students do. You know, the pressure of exams.”

  “Does she have a exam due soon?”

  “No.”

  “We need to speak to her. Urgently. Gavin, does Canter's circle mean anything to you?”

  “David Canter? His circle hypothesis? Sure. It's a tool for identifying the likely home base of repeat offenders. Hold on honey! Just coming! Matt, I'm sorry, I gotta go. When you get to my age, women are hard to come by. You don't keep them waiting.”

  “The circle, Gavin. How does it work?”

  “Ring me tomorrow! Bye!”

  “Fuck!” Matt threw the phone down.

  “Matt, what's happened? Is Ceri okay?”

  “Not sure. No-one’s seen her for several days.”

  “If she phoned you last night it can't be anything to worry about.”

  “Maybe. But it doesn't add up. She leaves a message like that, desperate to talk, then turns her phone off so I can't call back? Nothing since...”

  “Maybe her battery's flat,” Danny suggested. “Maybe someone's stolen her phone.”

  “Or maybe she knows more than she's letting on and she's panicking.”

  “We have to go to her, Matt,” Claire declared. “We owe her that much.”

  “You’re right. If we can get Ceri and Gavin sat round a table together maybe we can slot everything into place.”

  “I'm coming too,” Danny said.

  “You, young man, are staying put. Your parents would never agree to you going off to New Hampshire with a stranger.”

  “I came here without them knowing.”

  “That's different. It's just up the road. If I crossed the state boundary with you without your parents knowing it would be technically kidnapping. You’re staying put.”

  Danny scowled at Matt.

  “Besides, there's something this end you can follow up.”

  173

  Danny's smile returned.

  “There is?”

  “I need the dirt on one Leroy McKenzie. Some sort of sex-offender. Not kids, I know that much. But his case notes were stolen from Jeremy Isaac's office, along with Randall's and Bristow's. Jeremy thinks it was probably picked up with the other two by accident.”

  “And you don't?”

  “I don't know what to think, Danny. Clutching at straws. But that's your next job.”

  “Pips. Where's your computer, Claire?”

&nb
sp; “No way,” Matt said. “Supposing they trace you back here?”

  “So it’s okay for me to risk my neck on my computer.”

  “That's not the point. Anyway, we have other things to discuss now. You can email me the McKenzie info' later tonight. Who's for coffee? Claire?”

  “Please.”

  “Danny?”

  “Haven't you anything stronger?” He shot a glance at the bottle of wine on the cabinet.

  “Coffee or tea. We might be able to stretch to an orange juice if you're lucky.”

  “You're treating me like a kid again.”

  “Drinking alcohol doesn't make you more grown up, Danny. It just ages your body.”

  Matt brought in the tray of two coffees and a hot chocolate for Danny and they moved to the easy chairs.

  “Sweeteners?” Danny dropped five in his cup. “Gross! What's up with the real thing?”

  “Rebecca was a diabetic, Danny. I never have sugar in the house.”

  Matt asked quietly, “Did you tell Ceri that Rebecca was diabetic?”

  “She spotted the insulin pack in the refrigerator. Why?”

  “Gavin said Ceri had been asked questions about diabetes.”

  “Why would she?”

  “I don't know. But she phoned me about a week ago, in the middle of the night, asking whether Rebecca was Type-1 or not. I hadn't give it another thought until...” Matt stared into the distance.

  “Until?”

  “Until now. Now it's beginning to make sense.” Matt sat forward. “Remember what Ceri said on the voicemail? That Rebecca wasn't the first. Just the first to die.”

  “So?”

  “So supposing she wasn't murdered? Supposing she died because she hadn't received her insulin?”

  “But the post-mortem...”

  “Said strangulation. But it also said the findings were tentative. That her body had been in the water too long to deliver anything concrete. Just suppose, Claire... Just suppose he abducted Rebecca and then she died on him.” Matt took Claire's hand. “I'm sorry, but try think this through. Suddenly he's got a dead child on his hands. He has to do something. So he makes it look like strangulation.”

  “Forensics can easily tell which injuries are inflicted before death and which after,” said Danny.

  “If she'd been found immediately, maybe. But after all that time...”

  Claire fought back the tears. “Then maybe he's assaulted other girls? That are still alive?”

  “Of course!” Danny spilt his hot chocolate in his excitement. “There'll be a record of assaults going back!”

  “But surely the police would have linked them?”

  Matt's mind was racing. “Not if they were in different counties, across boundaries.”

  “But Matt, this is a homicide inquiry. The police all over the state are working together, surely?”

  “But they weren’t before,” Danny said. “Matt's right. Sex assaults are so common nowadays that if they happen across county boundaries they might never be linked.”

  Matt paced the room, thinking out loud. “What did Ceri say? That the paint was a blind? I think Uncle Tom was trying to draw the cops away from his earlier assaults. Once he had a dead child on his hands he'd have nothing to lose by killing his victims after that. Just the opposite. It would reduce the chances of being identified. The classic argument against capital punishment. Might as well be hanged for a sheep as a lamb.”

  Claire dabbed moist eyes with a tissue. “Surely we have to go to the police now?”

  “We need more than just vague ideas, Claire. We have to identify the series of assaults that pre-dated Rebecca. It's feasible he was following the same pattern as before. Right, Danny?”

  Danny was nodding enthusiastically. “That's what Ceri was telling us! If we can identify the locations we can use Canter's circle to trace him.”

  “I need access to LOM’s news database. Danny, you need to get home and dish the dirt on Leroy McKenzie. Email me with what you find. Claire, I suggest you get an early night. We've a long drive tomorrow.”

  “I want to see Ceri too.”

  “We've been through this already, Danny. The answer's no.”

  “Matt, please.”

  “You're not coming, Danny, and that's final.”

  174

  Matt had felt uneasy about letting the boy walk home on his own at that time of night, but Danny had been adamant.

  He wasn't a kid, he'd said.

  He was fourteen.

  He could look after himself.

  Matt smiled at the thought. He liked the boy. He could see echoes of his own childhood in Danny.

  The kid was cheerful.

  He was happy-go-lucky.

  He was thoughtful.

  He was bright.

  He was in the back seat.

  “What the fuck are you doing here?”

  Danny's bleary-eyed features appeared in the rear-view mirror as they sped along the I-90 at a steady eighty-five.

  “I thought you might need some company. Where's Claire?”

  “At home. Like you should be.”

  “I thought she was going with you.”

  “Change of plan.”

  Danny clambered into the front seat. “No point me being back here then.”

  “Don't go making yourself comfortable. I'm taking the next exit and you're going home.”

  “Matt, face facts. You need me. I got the dirt on McKenzie, didn't I?

  “You're still going home. What's that in your bag?”

  “A thermos. Coffee?”

  “Forget it. How the hell did you get in here anyway? I thought I locked it.”

  “You did. Jeez, it was cold waiting for you. I nearly froze my balls off.”

  “I don't suppose they've even dropped yet.”

  “Catty in the mornings, aren't you.”

  “Pass me that coffee a minute.”

  “See you need me, Matt.

  Matt took the plastic cup gratefully. He looked askance at Danny. “Now what are you bloody grinning about?”

  “You just passed the next exit.”

  175

  Leroy McKenzie was a dangerous man, Matt had stressed to Claire.

  He agreed to meet her in Poughkeepsie on the way back from Manchester. There was no way she was seeing him on her own.

  ~

  McKenzie extended a hand and she took it cautiously.

  The hand of a rapist.

  Another rapist.

  She was becoming quite blasé about meeting sex offenders.

  Claire followed him through to the living room on the first floor. Dressed in loose jogging pants and an athletic vest that hugged his torso, the muscular frame was eye-catching, the biceps huge. She guessed there wasn't an ounce of excess fat anywhere on him. If he tried anything she wouldn't stand a chance.

  “Coffee?”

  She didn't want to stay that long, but remembered how Matt had handled Michael Bates. “Please.”

  From the kitchen, “Like I said on the phone, I'm not proud of my past, but I'm still a thousand times better than someone who hurts little kids. I was a father myself once, you know. A baby boy.”

  “Once?”

  “Meningitis. Nine months old. So I know what it's like to lose a child. That's why I agreed to meet you.”

  “I'm so sorry.”

  “A long time ago. Milk and sugar?”

  “Just milk. Nice photo. Is this you?” She picked up a framed photo from a shelf. Workmen building river defenses along the Hudson.

  He reappeared with the coffee. “Sorry about the chipped mug. Not used to lady visitors. Yeah, that's me. Years back.”

  “You were a builder?” She thought of Dunst's profile. Then Ceri's voicemail saying the paint was a blind.

  “Civil engineering is what they call it, but yeah, just a glorified bricklayer at the end of the day. I was the only black guy on the firm. They gave me all the shit jobs. The bastards.”

  “Is that what you do now
?”

  “I wish. Haven't had a job in years. Stupid when you think about it. Okay, I'm a convicted rapist, but what difference would that make to me working in construction? The coffee okay?”

  “It's lovely, thank you. The baby... You were married?”

  “Were being the operative word, yeah. She left me during my first stint inside. I came out with nothing. No family. No job. Just these.” He held up his arms. “The only good thing to come out of it all. There was a fantastic gym there.” He flexed his biceps proudly.

  “So what brought you to Poughkeepsie?”

  “Work, what else? No one comes here by choice! No, seriously, it's a great place, despite all the jokes. Despite being the only black guy among all the Latinos I had no problem finding work before... Well, you know. Anyway, I did my time. Came out and moved to this cheap dump on my own. Della left me the day I was arrested. Didn’t even hang around to see if I’d be convicted or not,

  Claire wondered briefly how she would have reacted in similar circumstances, but Leroy interrupted her thoughts.

  “Now I’m stuck in this limbo. I get a few notes for a lock-up I rent out. Can't afford a car myself, so may as well let someone use it. Still, I don't suppose you came here to hear my sordid life story. So, what exactly can I do for you?”

  “It’s a long story. I'm still trying to come to terms with my daughter's murder. As you know, someone's been charged.”

  McKenzie put forward his palms defensively. “I didn’t know him, if that’s what you’re wondering. Fact is, I hope they hang the bastard. Fucking ChoMo! Sorry, excuse my language, but kiddy-killers? They don't deserve to live.”

  If they’re guilty, Claire thought.

  “Leroy, I... That is... Can I ask you some personal questions?”

  “I've got no secrets, Claire. I did what I did, and like I say, I ain't proud of it, but you can't rewrite history. Ask me anything you like. If you think you can handle the answers.”

  176

  “Jeremy Isaac was your attorney, right?”

  “Isaac? Oh yeah, back on my first arrest. Well, it was a trial lawyer dealt with most of it, but yeah, Isaac was my legal rep’ back then. You know him?”

  “Jeremy's office was broken into a few days ago.”