The Jigsaw Man

by Nadine Matheson

  ‘I’m sure that you do. I know what you’re like. You want to take it all on, on your own, but you can’t, so go easy on him. All of this, it ain’t easy.’

  The door opened and closed. Henley had about a minute’s grace as Rob took off his trainers and wet hoodie. All his text message had said was: We need to talk. Four words that had never, in the history of pre-empting a conversation, led to a happy ending or agreeable conclusion.

  ‘I bought you a latte.’ Rob placed the drink on the breakfast bar. ‘Paul? I didn’t realise that you were here.’

  ‘Morning, mate.’ Stanford shook hands with Rob. ‘Didn’t want Anjelica here on her own. Right, I’m off. Tell Emma that Uncle Paul said hello.’

  ‘I will.’ Rob passed her the white cup, which had Anjelica, spelt, again, incorrectly in black ink on the side.

  ‘Thanks,’ Henley said. The hot brown liquid escaped from the ill-fitting cap and ran down her hands. She didn’t want it, but she took a sip anyway. ‘How’s Ems? I was going to FaceTime, but I got caught up with Dad last night.’

  ‘Yeah, she’s fine. A couple of the kids are off with a stomach bug so don’t be surprised when Ems comes down with it. Mum loves having her. Spoiling her to pieces, but she isn’t pleased.’

  Henley rolled her eyes. ‘Of course she ain’t.’

  ‘You can’t blame her. It was bad enough having the police checking up on us every five minutes but now that they’re parked permanently outside the front door.’

  ‘She does know that it’s for her granddaughter’s safety? If she wants to risk that—’

  ‘You know that she doesn’t. Are you not going into work today?’

  ‘No, I’m going in later. Just got a few things to do this morning.’

  ‘I’ve been doing a lot of thinking,’ he paused, and then, ‘This situation isn’t working for me.’

  ‘What do you mean “this situation”?’ Henley held on tightly to the coffee cup. ‘What situation do you think that we’re in?’ Henley stared at Rob with the same blank ‘I think you’re talking shit’ look she usually reserved for the suspects she was interviewing.

  ‘I never wanted you to go back after what happened. I still think it was a mistake, but I suppose it wasn’t so bad when you were working cases in the office, but now that you’re back out there everything has changed. You’re putting us in danger.’

  ‘Rob—’

  ‘You’ve put Emma in danger.’

  Checkmate. Henley got up and poured her latte down the sink. She watched the brown liquid begin its clockwise descent down the drain.

  ‘I have never put Emma or you in danger. If I’d had the slightest idea that someone would… Do you really think I want to live like this?’

  ‘Of course you don’t, but what have you actually done to change it? You could have walked away. You could still walk away, and now that Olivier has escaped, you should walk away. I may not be a bloody detective but even I know that he could turn up here. He nearly killed you. You conveniently forget about that.’

  ‘Oh, stop exaggerating. It was a couple of stab wounds. I wasn’t at death’s door.’ Even as she said it, her pulse quickened. They both knew it had been more than that.

  ‘Less than a week ago some psychopath left a head on our doorstep. What if it hadn’t been just a head? What if someone had come into the house and hurt Emma?’

  ‘I would never have let that happen, Rob. You’re acting like all of this is my fault. Why do you want to punish me for doing my job? Don’t you think that I feel guilty? Don’t you think that I have the same concerns that you do?’ Henley’s throat tightened. She sat back down on the chair. ‘I would die if anything happened to Emma,’ she said. ‘She’s my life. Do you think that I’m happy about you taking her halfway across London to live with your parents?’

  Rob’s face hardened. ‘Your job comes first, always has, and you put what Stephen Pellacia wants before the needs of me and our child. You’ve done it before and you’re doing it again.’ Rob was shouting now. He stood up and placed his hands on his head. Henley could see the little vein in his neck pulsating with anger. Her right hand began to shake.

  ‘This has nothing to do with Stephen,’ she finally said. It had occurred to her that Rob suspected that she had slept with Pellacia after her mum had died, but that he couldn’t prove it.

  ‘Doesn’t it? It was his decision to put you back out there and to keep you out there even after last week.’

  ‘You make it sound like he’s controlling me on strings.’

  ‘Well, if he can’t get you in the bedroom he might as well pull your strings some other way.’

  Henley didn’t stop to think. She picked up the closest thing, his beloved Arsenal mug, and threw it at him. He ducked as the mug flew by and shattered against the wall.

  ‘How fucking dare you? You stand there and act all sanctimonious, going on about how I’m putting my daughter in danger when this is really all about you and your precious ego. Would it make you feel better if I told you that instead of looking for not just one but two killers, I was spending my nights screwing Stephen on his office floor? Is that what you really want to hear, Rob?’

  ‘Are you?’

  ‘For God’s sake, no, I’m not. What is it? Don’t you trust me?’

  Rob didn’t say anything. The silence was broken by the sound of the post being shoved through the letterbox. Heavy rain fell like stones on the skylight overhead.

  ‘Stop beating around the bush and tell me what you want,’ Henley said.

  ‘I’ve already told you. It’s us or the job. It’s as simple as that.’

  ‘You and your bloody ultimatums.’

  Rob shrugged. ‘Call it what you like. I’m going upstairs to pick up some more clothes for Emma and me.’

  ‘You can’t keep her from me. I’m her mum.’ Henley bit the inside of her cheek to stop herself from crying. She swallowed the blood that had pooled in her mouth.

  Rob shrugged. ‘If you want to see her, you know what you need to do.’

  Henley got up and opened the back door. She needed to breathe. The wind blew cold rain into her face, but there was nothing that could help ease the palpitations in her chest.

  ‘There’s something else,’ said Rob.

  ‘What is it?’ Henley kept her focus on the white star-like flowers on the jasmine bushes at the bottom of the garden. She didn’t want to look at Rob.

  ‘Our marriage. It’s changed. You’ve changed. You don’t treat me like your husband. I can’t even remember the last time we had sex. I feel like we’re broken.’

  There was that word again. Broken. Henley felt as though a leaden weight had been dropped into her stomach. Female intuition or a detective’s instinct, she knew that a third person was now involved in her marriage.

  ‘The other night, when I left. I bumped into one of the mums from Emma’s nursery.’

  ‘Which one?’

  ‘You wouldn’t know her.’

  ‘Where?’

  ‘It doesn’t matter.’

  ‘Did you sleep with her?’ Henley turned around and tried to read the expression on Rob’s face. ‘Well? Did you?’

  ‘I went back to her flat and we had a couple of drinks. I was angry at you.’

  ‘Did you sleep with her?’

  ‘I came home.’

  ‘That doesn’t answer the question. Did you sleep with her?’

  ‘No. I didn’t.’

  ‘But you wanted to? Otherwise what would be the point in telling me?’

  ‘Not really. I can’t explain it, but I didn’t. I couldn’t. In case you’ve forgotten’ – Rob held up his left hand, tapping his ring finger with his thumb – ‘I like her, but I didn’t want her. But then you and I are… I don’t know what we are anymore.’

  ‘Don’t say broken.’ Henley walked out of the kitchen. She couldn’t be in the same room as him.

  ‘Where are you going?’ said Rob as he followed Henley out in the hallway and took hold of her arm. />
  ‘Don’t touch me.’ Henley pulled her arm away. ‘You can make all the threats you want. You can fuck every single mum in that bloody nursery if that’s what floats your boat, but this is the last time that you ever ask me to choose.’

  Chapter 49

  Henley had walked out of the room and left the house, Rob’s voice following her as he called her a selfish bitch. Now, she was driving along the A12 on her way to Snaresbrook Crown Court where Carole Lewis’s husband worked as a security guard.

  ‘I know your husband can be a knob, but…’ Linh’s voice was loud over the car speakers. ‘I mean, seriously? Who the hell does he think he is to make a threat like that? And why did he even tell you about the skanky nursery mum?’

  ‘I can’t even… He had the audacity to accuse me of being unreasonable.’

  Linh was silent for a moment. ‘I guess… Someone did dump a head at his front door. No one could blame him for wanting to be somewhere safe with Emma.’

  ‘You’re on his side?’ Henley was incredulous.

  ‘I’m not. I’m just trying to be objective. Look, Anj, you know that I’m more than happy to bitch about him over a couple of bottles of wine, but right now, you need to listen to common sense. Especially while you’re driving. As hard as it may be for you and me to believe, I am the voice of reason.’

  ‘That’s a first. Linh, I do understand. I’m not a monster but he wants me to give up my job and I don’t care how objective you are, that is not fair.’

  ‘No, it’s not fair,’ Linh said firmly. ‘What exactly does he want you to do? Go and get a nice job in the City? It’s not as if he expects you to stay at home and play Suzie homemaker. Rob just wants you away from him.’

  ‘Not everything is about Stephen,’ Henley muttered as she indicated left and came off the dual carriageway.

  ‘It’s not, but you can’t deny that sometimes he’s like an annoying fly that won’t get out of your kitchen.’

  ‘Linh,’ Henley snapped. ‘Is there a reason why you called?’

  Linh sighed. ‘Yes. I’ve received the original autopsy report for Carole Lewis, but I need to see her for myself.’

  ‘What do you mean, “see her” for yourself?’

  ‘You’re going to have to dig her up.’

  Henley hit the brakes as the traffic lights turned red. ‘What? Why?’ she asked.

  ‘The report mentions some markings that look like a series of scratches. If we dig her up, hopefully the body won’t be too badly decomposed, I can take a proper look, then I can be sure if it was our copycat or the husband.’

  ‘It wasn’t the husband.’

  ‘Well, that’s your area of expertise. I need to check the actual marks.’

  ‘And you need to exhume her body to do that?’ Henley asked. She had no problem working with the dead, but she did have a problem with disturbing someone who had already been laid to rest. ‘Can’t you just make the determination from the autopsy file?’

  ‘No. The first pathologist was working from the hypothesis that the husband did it. They would have examined the body differently. I’m working from the hypothesis that we have a serial killer who panicked on his first kill. I need to see her body.’

  Chapter 50

  Four months earlier…

  Carole Lewis sat up straighter, spat out her chewing gum and ran her fingers through her hair. She wondered if he would be able to tell that she’d just been with someone else. She hoped he wouldn’t pick up the scent of the other men on her skin. She took out a tissue and dabbed away the sweat on her forehead. The unexpected heatwave had left the night air muggy and stifling. She blew out a breath of frustration as the streetlamp illuminated the figure in front of her.

  ‘Not your usual spot,’ he said.

  Carole slumped back against the bench, crossed her legs and folded her arms. ‘I’m waiting for someone,’ she said. ‘He’s shouldn’t be too long.’

  ‘Been waiting a while?’ The man looked back at the route that he had just taken. ‘Right,’ he said when Carole failed to answer him. ‘Well, you know where to find me if your date is a no-show.’

  Carole pulled out her phone as the man left. It was 10.35 p.m. She’d been there for twenty minutes. She read back the last message he’d sent her.

  I’m on my way. x

  Yes. He did want to see her. She hadn’t imagined any of it, but she wasn’t going to hang around in the middle of the park all night waiting for him.

  ‘Five more minutes and that’s it,’ Carole muttered under her breath. She put the phone back, then stood up quickly as she noticed a man jogging towards her. ‘Shit!’ The edge of her dress caught on the splintered wood of the bench. She pulled at it and swore again as the dress ripped.

  ‘Carole,’ he said. ‘Are you all right?’

  ‘Yeah, I’m fine. I just… you know what, never mind. Glad that you finally made it.’

  ‘I’m so sorry. I finished work late. I would have called when I was out of the station, but my phone died.’

  ‘That’s fine. Don’t worry about it. Did you want to go for a drink first? You must be a bit parched running up that hill in this weather.’

  The man pulled the collar of his shirt before taking a step towards Carole and kissing her lips. ‘Sounds like a good idea. A quick one before, I don’t know, we head back to yours?’

  ‘Definitely. The Harp pub is on the other side of the park, but I know a short cut.’

  The man pushed himself against Carole. He bit the side of her neck and slid his hand up her dress and between her legs.

  ‘I knew that you weren’t wearing any knickers,’ he said.

  ‘I never do. Are you all right doing it here?’

  ‘You said that it was a good spot.’

  Carol unbuttoned his trousers. ‘No one ever comes down to this part of the park. I’ve got condoms.’

  ‘Good.’

  ‘Oh my God,’ said Carole, caught off guard when he put his hand round her throat and squeezed. She closed her eyes while he rubbed her breast and kissed her neck. She felt a wave of excitement and a build-up of nervous energy as he pushed his fingers inside of her. She moved her right hand across his back and towards his waist. It was then that she felt the cold metal handle of a knife.

  It all happened so fast. He swiftly pulled the knife from his back pocket and raised it above his head.

  ‘No!’ Carole screamed. She crossed her arms in front of her face and cried out in pain as the blade sliced the flesh of her forearm. He grabbed Carole’s arm and pulled her towards him. Blow after blow came as he repeatedly plunged the knife into her stomach, sending shockwaves across her body. A strangulated scream escaped from her mouth and an intense and painful heat radiated through her body.

  The light from the full moon streamed through the thick leaves and glinted against the knife as he pulled it out of her stomach. The blood-soaked material of her dress clung to the serrated knife edge. She grabbed the blade, in an effort to stop him stabbing her again, but he was too strong. He slashed downwards and her right hand fell limply to her side as the blade severed tendons and nerves. She tried to speak but the word ‘help’ was lost in the pool of blood haemorrhaging from her mouth.

  Carole covered one of the wounds on her stomach with her shaking hand. Stumbling, she looked up at him. He wasn’t moving. His face was frozen with concentration and interest. He lunged forward, stabbing her again. Carole could feel her body convulse as her legs collapsed under her. She tried to crawl away but the hot blade of the knife stopped her as it pierced her back, chipping away at the bone of her shoulder blade.

  The knife came down again, tearing through her lung. He twisted the blade viciously and then pulled it out, breaking the knife tip off in the process. He turned her over and the sound of foxes scuttering through the park echoed in Carole’s ears.

  Let me die. Let me die.

  The words registered in her flickering brain, but her body ignored her, even when the knife tore through her chest again. Her
eyes fluttered opened, but her vision was blurred by the blood. She didn’t see him raise the knife above her head. Death still hadn’t arrived when he slit her throat, with a final violent flourish.

  Chapter 51

  Henley fidgeted in her seat and checked the time on the car dashboard. It was almost quarter to eleven. Ramouter was back at the SCU arranging appointments with the jury from Olivier’s first murder trial. She had arrived at Snaresbrook Crown Court earlier than planned and had been sitting in the car park browsing through the Carole Lewis murder investigation file. Henley felt an odd sense of detachment as she scanned the witness statements and CRIS reports on her iPad. She missed the feel of paper between her fingers. There were times where she was convinced that she could almost smell a victim’s blood through an officer’s notebook.

  Henley didn’t flinch when the crime scene photographs appeared on the screen. Carole had made no attempt to run. Her handbag, clasped shut and splattered with blood, was no more than a few inches from her head. The blue floral dress that she was wearing was hitched up around her waist. She was wearing no knickers and the blood from the stab wounds to her stomach had run like a river and congealed in her pubic hair.

  There had been evidence of sexual intercourse. Spermicide and lubricant were found in her vagina and there were traces of semen in her throat. DNA from three different men had been recovered from her body.

  Henley understood why Lancaster’s attention had quickly switched to the husband. Jealousy, adultery, younger woman and an older husband. Ramouter had also discovered that the location where Carole Lewis was found was popular for dogging. All of the boxes were ticked for a crime of passion and for defence lawyers to jump on the ‘loss of control’ defence on behalf of her husband, but none of that sat right with Henley. Four condoms and Carole’s wedding and engagement rings were found in her bag, but her mobile phone was missing. An eye-witness had given a statement that a woman matching Carole’s description had bumped into him and his wife as they were leaving the park. The wife had said that the woman had run into them as though she was late for something, not running away from someone.