The Jigsaw Man

by Nadine Matheson

  ‘How many officers escorted him?’

  ‘Two at first.’ Denman looked down at his feet.

  ‘Just two officers. For him,’ said Ramouter. Henley didn’t bother to chastise Ramouter for butting in. He was right.

  ‘I didn’t have a choice. Do you know how short-staffed we are? Two officers is the minimum that is required.’

  ‘For someone who’s nicked a couple of hundred quid from his gran, not for a bloody serial killer.’ Henley took a step back and folded her arms. She took a deep breath. ‘I know that Karen Bajarami was here with him, but who was the other officer?’

  ‘Ade Nzibe,’ said Denman. ‘He’s one of my most experienced officers. Been with me for twenty years.’

  Denman looked up at Henley as though he was expecting her to award him a gold star.

  ‘Was Olivier restrained?’

  ‘He was at first, but as soon as we arrived, he was taken into A&E and we were told to remove the handcuffs so that they could treat him—’

  ‘Excuse me.’ Cole actually raised his hand as though he was asking for permission from the teacher. ‘I’ve located the footage.’

  They gathered around the monitor and watched the film.

  ‘Fuck,’ said Cole. Denman turned away as Olivier, barefooted, stamped on the security guard’s head. Bajarami appeared in the doorway and lunged for Olivier.

  The screen then switched to the footage from Bajarami’s body camera. The footage buffered until it settled on Olivier standing in his hospital gown. Bajarami was shouting at him to stop. The fork could be seen in Olivier’s hand. Olivier smiled then lunged at her. Bajarami’s blood-curdling scream pierced Henley’s ears.

  ‘Shit,’ said Ramouter.

  Olivier turned left and disappeared from the shot.

  ‘Where did he go?’ asked Ramouter as Henley walked away from the monitors and stood by the door.

  ‘The woman—’ said Adam.

  ‘Her name is Karen,’ Denman said between gritted teeth as he sat down on a nearby chair.

  ‘Sorry, Karen. She managed to press the alarm, but by that time he had already made his way to the stairs. Cameras picked him up again at the emergency exit that leads straight to the car park and, as you know, he carjacked one of the visitors. We’ve given the details to a colleague of yours. Security made their way to the car park where he tried to run one of my men over.’

  After a few seconds, Henley let out the breath that she didn’t realise she had been holding. The security control room now seemed smaller, claustrophobic. She couldn’t breathe.

  ‘Do you know where Karen and Ade are now?’ Henley asked Denman.

  ‘I think that they’re being treated on the fourth floor,’ he said.

  ‘Let’s go,’ Henley said to Ramouter. She walked out of the room without offering thanks or saying goodbye.

  Chapter 46

  ‘The car was found about forty minutes ago, dumped in Charlton.’ Eastwood lifted a large exhibit bag filled with letters onto the table. ‘Since the alert went out there’ve been multiple sightings, but I can guarantee a lot of it is bollocks. Over the last hour he’s been seen in Hackney, Greenford, a pub in Clapham, Aberdeen and Benidorm.’

  Henley was standing at the window watching Pellacia as he stood on the steps giving a press conference.

  ‘Is this everything from his cell?’ she asked, as Eastwood pulled more bags out of the box.

  ‘Yes, this is everything. He has a lot of letters from – I don’t know what you want to call them – fans, I suppose. There are a lot of women out there who want to have his babies and men who want to—’ Eastwood pulled a face. ‘Don’t understand it myself.’

  ‘What about a phone?’

  ‘Hold your horses, guv. I was just getting there.’

  Eastwood reached into the box and pulled a sealed small exhibit bag. Inside was a mobile phone that was no bigger than a two-finger KitKat.

  ‘It’s tiny,’ said Henley, balancing the phone in her hand. She pressed the on button and waited for the small screen to light up.

  ‘It’s as basic as you can get,’ said Eastwood. ‘Carphone Warehouse sell them for about eight quid. The only thing that you can do with it is make calls and send texts. There’s a SIM card inside and we found the charger.’

  ‘Where was it found?’

  ‘The phone and charger were found behind the sink unit in his cell. The SIM card was at the bottom of a box of Coco Pops.’

  Henley was growing more annoyed with herself. She should have demanded a search of his cell earlier.

  ‘He’s been talking to someone.’ She scrolled through the call log. ‘The last call was made by him at about 11.45 p.m. the night before he supposedly fell ill. Will you take it downstairs to Ezra?’

  ‘Of course. But that’s not all we found.’ Eastwood handed Henley an A4-sized notebook. On the front page in large black letters were the words SEARCH RECORD 101. Henley turned to the first page where Eastwood had drawn a sketch of Olivier’s cell. Like everything that Eastwood did it was neat and precise.

  ‘Tell me what you notice, guv,’ Eastwood said.

  The cell was six feet by eight with a bed, a small table and a wardrobe. On the left-hand side was a toilet and sink. She skipped to the list of items found. Books, PlayStation, television, radio, magazines. Insulin. Syringe.

  ‘What’s unusual about this list?’ asked Henley.

  ‘Olivier’s not diabetic,’ Eastwood explained. ‘He’d been complaining of feeling unwell. He’d seen the GP and there had been concerns about low blood pressure and slightly increased glucose levels, but he had not been diagnosed with diabetes. The question is, why would someone who’s not a diabetic be taking insulin?’

  ‘Who the hell has been helping him?’ Henley slammed her fist onto the table. ‘It’s not that hard to get a phone into a prison, but insulin? For fuck’s sake! We need to find out who gave it to him.’

  ‘I would have said Blaine, but there’s no way he would’ve been able to get vials of insulin and syringes through Belmarsh,’ Eastwood said.

  ‘What about the inside?’ Henley handed the search record back to Eastwood. ‘What if someone inside the prison has been helping him?’

  ‘It’s not too much of a stretch,’ said Eastwood. ‘I’ve lost count of the number of dodgy prison officers that have been done for passing on drugs and phones to prisoners. Smuggling in a bit of insulin would be nothing.’

  ‘I need you and Stanford to get a list of all of the prison staff who have worked in the High Security Unit since Olivier has been there and arrange interviews with them. The sooner the better.’

  Henley turned up the volume on the TV. All of the news channels seemed to have a reporter stationed either outside the Queen Elizabeth Hospital or outside Belmarsh prison. An old photograph flashed across the screen.

  ‘It’s misleading,’ Henley said as Pellacia came out of his office and sat in front of her desk.

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘When I last saw Olivier, he looked thin and gaunt. He didn’t look like someone capable of escape. The public will be looking for someone like the man in the photograph, someone healthy and strong. Like a different person.’

  ‘Well, he’s out there. It’s all we’ve got.’

  ‘This is madness. Look, Stanford and Eastwood are going to the prison in a bit to interview the officers and I want to arrest Blaine.’

  ‘No,’ Pellacia said determinedly.

  ‘What do you mean, no?’

  ‘Look, I understand why you want to arrest him, but you haven’t got enough.’

  ‘Stephen, I’ve got his association with the jurors, he’s been visiting Olivier and he harassed Zoe.’

  ‘You’ve got no forensic or direct evidence that he harassed Zoe. All you’ve got is the word of mouth of a pissed-off ex-girlfriend and a flaky report that Zoe made to hospital security.’

  ‘So, you want me to just leave him out there and wait for another body to be chopped up and dumped?�
� Henley said angrily.

  ‘Calm down. All I’m saying is get some tangible evidence. The last thing I need is for us to be shut down because we’ve got ahead of ourselves and arrested the wrong person.’

  Henley didn’t reply. She knew that Pellacia was right.

  ‘What about Ramouter? He’s doing OK?’

  ‘Yeah, he is actually, but this investigation – it’s a lot. I never had to deal with anything like this when I was a trainee. My first case as a TDC was an armed robbery. Ramouter left his family in Bradford to be here.’

  ‘Really? They’ve broken up?’

  ‘No. Nothing like that.’ Henley switched the TV off. The office was empty.

  ‘How are you?’ Pellacia asked her.

  ‘I’m fine. Tired but OK.’

  ‘We’ve arranged for more protection at Rob’s parents’ house.’

  ‘Don’t remind me. His mum wasn’t exactly pleased about having a patrol car parked outside her house, but I really couldn’t give a shit. She’s not my priority.’

  ‘And what about you? I’m not happy with the thought of you being home alone.’

  ‘I’m not home alone. I’ve got officers parked outside my house. They’ve installed panic alarms and CCTV. The chances of Olivier, or anyone else for that matter, coming within ten feet of me are remote.’

  ‘Come home with me. Stay with me.’

  Henley looked down as Pellacia took hold of her hand, letting him intertwine his fingers with hers.

  ‘I want you with me,’ he said. ‘Let me—’

  ‘Why do you have to make things so difficult?’

  ‘I’m not. I’m trying to make things easy for you. Uncomplicated.’

  ‘Uncomplicated? Why do you act as though I’m not married?’

  ‘Because of the way that you still look at me.’

  ‘I’ll ask Stanford to stay with me.’ Henley retracted her hand. ‘I can’t stay with my brother. He’s got kids. I can’t put that on him.’

  Henley’s head turned towards the door as it swung open and Joanna, the admin manager, walked in.

  ‘Fine. Do what you want,’ Pellacia said. ‘What can I do for you, Joanna?’

  ‘I want her, not you,’ she said.

  ‘Honestly,’ Pellacia sighed heavily. ‘I get no respect around this place.’

  ‘Perhaps you need to work on your people skills. Go on a course or something.’

  ‘What is it, Jo?’ asked Henley.

  ‘I need your signature on the transfer request for the Lewis investigation file. And you, DSI Pellacia, have a very irate DSI Chambers from Wood Green CID on line two.’

  Henley followed Joanna to her desk.

  ‘I see that you’ve been out causing trouble again,’ said Joanna, handing her the transfer request.

  ‘I didn’t have much of a choice.’

  ‘So, this Carole Lewis. Do you really think that she’s one of his?’

  Henley signed the transfer document and stared up at the photos of Darego, Kennedy and Delaney on the whiteboard. She knew in her gut that a photo of Carole Lewis would soon be joining them.

  Chapter 47

  Henley parked in front of Greenwich train station and turned on her hazard lights. She felt a sense of relief when she saw her brother, tall and rangy, exiting the station. Simon spotted her too and had broken into a light jog.

  ‘All right, sis?’ Simon got in the car and reached for the lever to push the seat back. ‘Ah, that’s better. I could have met you at Mum and—’ He paused. ‘Sorry. God, it doesn’t feel right to just say Dad’s house, do you know what I mean?’

  ‘I know exactly what you mean.’ Henley turned off the hazard lights and pulled away.

  ‘I tried calling him, but he didn’t pick up.’

  ‘Same here.’

  ‘So, little sister. How are you? I heard about the bastard escaping. Thought that you would have told me yourself.’

  Henley’s brother fiddled with the car radio. She knew that he couldn’t bring himself to let Olivier’s name leave his mouth. She remembered how he had sat at the side of her bed, after leaving his shift as an oncologist at Guy’s Hospital and speeding down to Queen Elizabeth’s. ‘You could have come up with a better way of telling me that I was going to be an uncle,’ he had joked as he surreptitiously checked her blood pressure on the monitor.

  ‘I take it that they haven’t caught him yet?’ Simon asked.

  ‘Nope. They’re looking for him though. Everyone is looking for him.’

  ‘He’s not coming after you, is he? That business at your house the other day.’

  ‘I doubt it.’ Henley hoped that she sounded reassuring as she drove towards Bellingham. ‘I can’t think of any good reason for him to hang around.’

  ‘I hope that they find the bastard at the bottom of a cliff somewhere.’ Simon yawned. ‘I’m knackered.’

  ‘Stop complaining. You’re the one who wanted to be a surgeon.’

  ‘I thought that it would make me more attractive to the ladies. Speaking of which; how is the lovely Linh?’

  ‘Leave Linh alone.’ Henley slapped Simon on the arm.

  ‘Ow. I haven’t done anything. I’m a married man with three pain-in-the-arse kids. Allow a man a little time to fantasise.’

  ‘Fantasise about your wife.’

  ‘Please. Even in my fantasies, Mia tells me that she’s got a headache.’

  ‘You joker,’ Henley said, laughing. ‘Simon, you’re a surgeon, right?’

  ‘Last time I checked.’

  ‘How easy would it be to get hold of Atri… Oh for God’s sake. Atracium—’

  ‘Atracurium besilate.’ Simon lowered the volume on the radio. ‘Why would you want that?’

  ‘I don’t want it. It’s linked to an investigation. How easy would it be to get hold of?’ Henley stopped the car outside their parents’ house and they got out.

  ‘Well, you can’t pick it up over the counter in Boots, I can tell you that much. It’s only ever used for surgical procedures. It’s literally under lock and key. Even I can’t just walk into the storeroom and pick up a couple of vials. That’s not to say that someone couldn’t find a way to get access to it if they wanted it badly enough. Doctors and nurses stealing drugs from the hospital is nothing new.’

  Henley and Simon stopped at the front door. A set of keys had been left in the lock.

  ‘That’s not like Dad.’ Simon turned the key and opened the door.

  Henley felt as though she was walking through a stranger’s house. The sideboard where her mum used to keep a vase of fresh flowers was now covered with unopened mail. The gold gilded mirror above it was smeared with fingerprints. The house smelt of cigarette smoke and the souring scent of a kitchen bin that needed emptying.

  ‘Oh, Dad,’ said Henley as she and Simon walked into the living room. Elijah was sitting in an armchair watching the news; or the news was watching him as he stared into space. An overflowing ashtray was balancing precariously on his lap. A dirty plate lay on the ground next to a can of Guinness. The living room was in disarray. Their dad was a crumpled mess.

  ‘What are you doing here? Why are you in my house?’ Elijah stood up. Cigarette butts and ash scattered across the carpet.

  ‘Dad. Dad. Calm down,’ said Henley.

  ‘You shouldn’t be here. I told you that I didn’t want you here. I should call the police.’

  Henley laughed, more out of despair than actual humour, as she took her dad’s arm. ‘Dad, please.’

  ‘You shouldn’t be here.’ Elijah pulled his arm away. ‘She isn’t here anymore, so why are you here?’

  Henley swallowed hard, resisting the urge to cry.

  ‘We just want to help you, Dad,’ Simon said, putting an arm around his shoulders. ‘We know that you’re hurting.’

  ‘Stop it,’ said Elijah.

  ‘We’re all missing Mum.’

  ‘Stop it, stop it.’ Elijah recoiled and slumped back into his chair.

  Henley looked across at
Simon. When they were younger, they had never known what to call the moments when their dad had slipped away from them. He would move into the spare bedroom and stay there for weeks. The curtains would be drawn, the room shrouded in darkness as he lay on the bed, staring at the ceiling. Their mum would tell them to leave him alone, let him rest. Henley would sit on the edge of his bed after school anyway, telling her dad about her school day and asking him when he would get up and take her to gymnastics. She was fifteen years old when she’d overheard her mum mention the word ‘depression’ to her Aunt Cecile.

  ‘Let Simon and I clean up and maybe—’

  ‘Maybe you should come and spend some time with me, Mia and the kids,’ Simon said, picking up the dirty plate from the floor. ‘I can book some time off work.’

  ‘I can’t let them see me like this,’ said Elijah. ‘I didn’t want you to see me like this.’

  Henley’s legs felt weak and she allowed herself to drop onto the three-piece sofa. She put her hands to her face. They became hot with tears as she heard her dad say:

  ‘I’m broken. I never wanted you to see me broken.’

  Chapter 48

  Henley sat at her kitchen table in her pyjamas, facing the French doors, watching the rain fall. Exhaustion was sweeping through her body in waves. It had taken almost an hour to convince their dad to pack a bag and relocate to Simon’s. Stanford had already let himself in and had fallen asleep on the sofa when she had finally arrived home at midnight. It was quiet without Emma singing along to her programmes on the TV, Luna barking and Rob moaning about the state of the financial markets as he worked on his laptop. The cup of tea Stanford had made for her had long gone cold. The Indian summer had taken a swift departure and the sky outside was as grey and heavy as her mood. She’d managed just three hours’ sleep.

  Henley stiffened when she heard the key in the front door.

  ‘That is definitely my cue to go,’ said Stanford, picking up a banana from the fruit bowl.

  ‘Thanks for staying over.’

  ‘It was nothing. It’s not as if I was on a promise last night, but Anj, take my advice.’

  ‘I know what you’re going to say.’ Henley got up and poured the cold tea down the sink.