The Jigsaw Man

by Nadine Matheson

  Relief washed over Henley when she saw Ramouter lying on the floor. The only part of him that was moving were his watery eyes. Henley kneeled next to him and wiped away his tears.

  ‘How’s he doing?’ she asked the paramedic who was treating the knife wound.

  ‘He’s been stabbed repeatedly in the arm, but I have no idea how deep the wound is. There’s bruising to his chest, so we’re looking at the possibility of broken ribs, but he can’t move, and he can’t speak. He’s been beaten up pretty bad. There could be injury to his spinal cord—’

  ‘No,’ said Henley, spotting the syringe on the floor. ‘He’s been injected with Atracurium besilate.’

  The paramedic shook his head and muttered something that Henley thought sounded like ‘I’ve had enough of this shit. I should have called in sick.’ Two other paramedics appeared at the door with a stretcher.

  ‘Do you have any idea how long he’s been like this?’ the paramedic asked her.

  ‘Within the last twenty minutes,’ Henley said. She looked up to see Stanford coming down the stairs. His face was ashen.

  ‘OK. Right. Fuck,’ said the paramedic. ‘I’ve never dealt with anything like this before. I don’t even know what Atra… Atraci – whatever the hell it’s called – is.’

  ‘It induces paralysis. I’ll be at the hospital with you, OK?’ Henley said to Ramouter. She squeezed his hand, not even sure if he could feel anything.

  Henley moved out of the way as the paramedics manoeuvred Ramouter onto the stretcher.

  ‘Are Forensics on their way?’ asked Stanford.

  ‘What’s up there?’ Henley asked, but she didn’t need to wait for Stanford to answer. She already knew. ‘He’s dead, isn’t he? Dominic Pine.’

  ‘He’s upstairs in the front bedroom. In pieces. Lots of pieces. I can’t go back up there. You shouldn’t go up there either. What the hell happened here, Henley?’

  ‘Olivier happened.’

  ‘Are you sure it was him?’

  ‘I heard him over the radio… He called my name. It was him. Oh my God, Ramouter. How could I—’

  Henley felt a panic rise through her. She bent down and placed her hands on her knees.

  ‘Hey, don’t do that,’ Stanford said. He put his arm around her and gently pulled her up. She allowed Stanford to hold her as they both watched Ramouter being wheeled out. ‘Don’t beat yourself up.’

  ‘How could I not? I should have waited for back-up. I shouldn’t have let Ramouter go in there alone. I fucked up, Stanford. He’ll never forgive me for this.’

  ‘This is not your fault. You weren’t to know,’ Stanford said determinedly.

  ‘Easier said than done. I can’t believe that Pine was right in front of us, mocking us the entire time.’

  ‘Pine’s the least of our worries right now. The main thing is that we’ve got Kirkpatrick, and Ramouter is still with us. Do you want to come and take a look in the kitchen before Forensics start their business?’

  ‘How bad is it?’

  ‘Compared to what’s upstairs?’

  ‘Tell me.’

  Stanford rubbed at his stubbled face. ‘In all my years, never seen anything like it.’

  Henley pulled on her gloves and walked into the kitchen. The fridge motor was still working nosily away. She opened the door.

  On the bottom shelf was a plastic bag of disintegrating courgettes sitting in a pool of brown slime. Five vials of Atracurium besilate were on the top shelf. Henley opened the vegetable drawer and pulled out a Ziplock bag.

  ‘Oh God,’ she said. Staring up at her from inside the bag were the eyes of Zoe Darego.

  Chapter 98

  ‘I’ve never been so popular in my life,’ Ramouter joked as he sat up in the bed. The AB had started to wear off after forty minutes, but the doctors had still conducted an MRI scan to confirm that there was no damage to his spine. Henley, Pellacia and Stanford were in the room. There were also officers stationed outside. It was almost six in the morning and the rising sun was beginning to break through the clouds. Henley had had enough of hospitals to last her a lifetime.

  ‘How are you feeling?’ Henley asked as Pellacia prised the last of the coffees out of the tray and handed it over.

  ‘I feel like I’ve been knocked over by the Hulk,’ said Ramouter. ‘It hurts every time I take a breath.’

  ‘I’m sorry about that. I should have waited.’ Henley ripped open three sachets of sugar and poured them into Ramouter’s cup. ‘I shouldn’t have let you go into the house.’

  ‘How were we to know that Olivier was going to be there? If it makes you feel better, I don’t think that he wanted to kill me,’ Ramouter said unconvincingly.

  ‘No, that doesn’t make me feel better.’

  Ramouter winced as he raised the coffee cups to his lips. He had three broken ribs, one of which had punctured his lungs. The stab wounds to the arm were deep and a nerve had been severed. ‘Have you spoken to my wife?’

  ‘No, but I did speak to your sister-in-law a little while ago,’ answered Pellacia. ‘I told her not to worry, that you’re doing OK, but she was quite insistent that she will be coming down to London with your wife today.’

  ‘Sounds like her. What about Kirkpatrick?’

  ‘He’s here,’ said Henley. ‘Being treated for dehydration and shock. He hasn’t got any serious injuries. Mentally? I don’t know how he’s going to cope.’ Henley couldn’t help but think back to her own ordeal. How she had held onto Pellacia for dear life after he had found her. How the anti-depressants and therapy sessions did little to keep the flashbacks at bay. Kirkpatrick confirmed that Pine was the one who took him. He had fought back but then he blacked out. He woke up in the shed with Pine leaning over him and telling him that he was going to come back and was going to start by cutting off his left arm, but Pine never came back.’

  ‘And Olivier?’ Ramouter asked as his eyes flicked to the door.

  ‘He’s not here and you’ve got protection. There’re officers on the ward. We’ve got everyone looking for him. The car that hit him wasn’t going that fast, but he has to be injured. I don’t know how he managed to walk away.’

  ‘He’s the bloody devil, that’s how,’ said Stanford.

  ‘So, what happens now?’ asked Ramouter. ‘Pine’s dead and Olivier is still out there?’

  Henley checked the time on her watch and shook her head. She was exhausted, overwhelmed with guilt and still had work to do. ‘We’re just waiting to get the all-clear so that we can arrest and interview Karen Bajarami,’ she replied. ‘With Blaine dead, she’s the only thing that links us to Olivier.’

  ‘I want to be there when you interview her,’ said Ramouter.

  ‘You’re having a laugh, aren’t you? That’s not going to happen,’ said Pellacia as his phone began to ring.

  ‘Guv, I have to be there. If it wasn’t for her—’ Ramouter weakly pleaded.

  ‘That is not happening. You’re in here for another few days and you’re not coming back to the unit until you’re fit. You’ve got a punctured lung and broken ribs. You’re an HR headache that I don’t need.’

  ‘Yes, guv,’ Ramouter said sullenly.

  ‘To be honest, you do look like shit,’ said Stanford after Pellacia had left the room. ‘I’d rather not be looking at your ugly mug for the next few days.’

  ‘Thanks,’ Ramouter replied. ‘The love is real.’

  ‘For God’s sake.’

  Pellacia leaned against the wall of the SCU building, threw the empty cigarette box towards the bin at the end of the car park and missed. He walked around the back of the building and ran his hands through his hair in frustration. He didn’t feel as though he had a handle on anything. His life and his command of the SCU were spiralling out of control. The revelation of Dominic Pine as the copycat and his death should have been his crowning glory. But he had a junior officer laid up in the hospital. Olivier was out there and killing again. And he had broken his own rule by letting Henley back into his lif
e. But he needed her.

  ‘You’re looking a bit stressed, mate.’

  The familiar voice gave him goosebumps. Pellacia’s heartbeat quickened as he turned around. Olivier pushed back his sweatshirt hood. There were deep scratches and dried blood on his face. His bottom lip was split open and swollen.

  Pellacia reached for the radio in his pocket but Olivier was too quick for him. Olivier struck him in the stomach with a brick and Pellacia doubled over, the air escaping his lungs. Olivier kneeled in front of him and grabbed his hair. Panic gripped Pellacia in his desperation to breathe. Henley had told him that it felt like someone had put a plastic bag over her head when she’d had her first panic attack. Pellacia’s last thought before he blacked out was of her.

  The rest of the day was filled with letting the remaining jurors know they were no longer targets and that the copycat killer, Dominic Pine, was dead. Henley had given a brief press conference while Anthony’s team were still at Pine’s place recovering evidence. The image of Zoe’s dead eyes kept coming back to Henley. Upstairs they had found photographs of all three mutilated victims pinned to the bedroom wall. For the life of her she couldn’t work out why Pine would have kept the photographs on display. The pain that he had caused and for what? To get one over on Olivier? To exact revenge on people who had only been doing the right thing? Petty. Selfish. Egotistical.

  A monster.

  Henley had managed to go home and shower before the scheduled press conference at 6 p.m., but she was still exhausted. She had been awake for more than twenty-four hours and the day wasn’t over yet. She had received the call that Karen Bajarami was fit to be discharged from Queen Elizabeth Hospital, and Stanford and an exhausted Eastwood had arrested her. Stanford had messaged her during the press conference to confirm that Bajarami had been booked in at Lewisham police station, declared fit to be interviewed and was now sitting in the cell.

  ‘You’re making me feel like the rebound boyfriend,’ Stanford said as Henley punched in the security code that would let them into the custody suite.

  ‘Stop being so precious,’ Henley replied.

  ‘I can’t help it. It was me and you for years and then some little upstart appears and takes my place,’ Stanford said. ‘How’s he doing, anyway?’

  ‘I checked in an hour ago. He’s doing well. Couple of days and he’ll be home.’

  ‘I actually feel sorry for him,’ said Stanford.

  The custody suite was busy with detainees being either booked in or charged. Henley knocked on the door of interview room three and let herself in. Karen Bajarami looked at her with her one good eye. The other eye was covered with a bandage and she looked utterly miserable. Henley recognised the duty solicitor as Morgan Tyler. She was one of the best ones.

  ‘Evening, Inspector,’ said Morgan. ‘We’re ready.’

  Chapter 99

  The interview room was cold, as always. The sound of the air-conditioning unit whirled in the background. Stanford sat next to Henley, wordlessly opening three blank CDs and placing them in the recorder. Bajarami sat opposite Henley, practically squeezing herself into the corner as though she was trying to make herself disappear. She looked pale and on the verge of passing out.

  ‘Before we start, is it all right if I call you Karen?’ Henley finished entering the interview details on the monitor.

  ‘It’s fine,’ Karen replied.

  ‘The FME said that you’re fit to be interviewed. I just want to check if you want anything. Water, another cup of tea—’

  ‘I’m fine.’

  ‘Good.’ Henley pressed record. ‘Right, we’ll start. I’m Detective Inspector Anjelica Henley and also present is—’

  ‘Detective Sergeant Paul Stanford.’

  ‘We’re in interview room three at Lewisham police station. This interview is being audio- and video-recorded. We’re interviewing today – could you please confirm your name for the record,’ said Henley. Karen Bajarami looked across at her solicitor, who nodded.

  ‘Karen Irina Bajarami,’ she said.

  ‘Thank you,’ said Henley. ‘Also present is your solicitor—’

  ‘Morgan Tyler from Tyler Lawson solicitors, and I’m informing you now that my client will be answering “no comment” to all questions that are put to her.’

  Henley completed the rest of the introductions and cautions without taking her eyes off Bajarami. ‘Karen, you’ve been arrested for conveying a prohibited article into prison, namely a mobile phone, assisting a prisoner, Peter Olivier, to escape, obstructing the course of justice, preventing the lawful burial of a body and conspiracy to commit murder. We’ve already disclosed this information to your solicitor, and you know that we have evidence that you provided a mobile phone to Olivier and also bought the phone credits. What would you like to say about that?’

  Henley and Stanford were prepared for Bajarami to answer ‘no comment’ to all their questions for the next hour.

  ‘It’s not what you think,’ Karen said.

  Stanford tapped Henley’s foot under the table.

  ‘Karen, I’m going to remind you of the legal advice that I gave you in consultation,’ Tyler said, writing something in her notebook.

  ‘Sorry, sorry. No comment,’ Karen said.

  ‘As you can see, the mobile provider has confirmed that the phone account was set up using a debit card registered to you. Then you topped up the account on three subsequent occasions.’

  ‘No comment.’

  Henley was already getting tired of the no comments. ‘You weren’t the only woman that Olivier was in contact with,’ she said suddenly.

  Karen looked back at her with shock. Henley knew then that Olivier was her trigger.

  ‘What are you talking about?’ Karen asked.

  ‘I’m reminding you again of the legal advice I gave you in consultation and that was to answer “no comment” to all questions put to you,’ Tyler said again, but Henley could hear the resignation in her voice – things were not going to go as she had advised.

  ‘You and Olivier were in a relationship, weren’t you?’ asked Henley.

  ‘Yes, we were,’ replied Karen.

  ‘Even though this was a complete breach of your duties as a prison officer?’

  Tyler looked as though she was going to interrupt again but Bajarami went on before she could say anything.

  ‘You don’t understand. He was different with me. He wasn’t the man they described.’

  ‘He killed seven people before he came to Belmarsh.’

  ‘It was a miscarriage of justice. Mistakes were made.’

  Henley had to give a Stanford a kick under the table to stop him from laughing.

  ‘You’ve been a prison officer for eight years. Has anything like this happened before?’ Henley continued.

  ‘No, of course not. I’m good at my job and he saw that. He treated me with respect, not like some of those other prisoners.’

  ‘When did it start? The relationship.’

  ‘About eighteen months ago, and it wasn’t what you think. He just wanted someone to talk to. He was sweet and gentle. Not a monster. He said that I understood him.’

  This time it was Tyler’s turn to suppress her surprise with a cough as she caught Henley’s eye.

  ‘He understood you?’

  ‘Yes, he did. He’s intelligent and good-humoured.’

  ‘Whose idea was it to get the phone?’

  ‘Mine.’

  ‘Yours?’ Henley needed her to reconfirm this for the recording.

  ‘Yes. It was hard. Seeing him every day, not being able to talk to him properly. I mean, I have a job to do, but I just wanted to talk to him all the time.’

  ‘How often did you talk to him?’

  ‘Every other night.’

  ‘Did you send him videos?’

  ‘No. His phone was basic. I couldn’t do that.’

  ‘Did you show him videos?’

  ‘Yes. On my phone.’

  ‘Did you film me, outside my hous
e, opening a box that contained the head of Elliot Cheung?’

  Karen paused as she looked across at her solicitor.

  ‘I don’t want to answer that,’ she said.

  ‘I’m sure that your solicitor has told you that a police interview isn’t like selecting sweets at a pick ’n’ mix. It’s not going to look good on you that you’re choosing to answer some questions and be quiet on others.’

  ‘I’ll thank you not to comment on the advice that Ms Bajarami has been given in consultation. Either ask her a question or end the interview,’ Tyler said.

  ‘DS Stanford is going to show you footage from the security cameras that were installed in the reception area of the Franklin-Jones Cold Storage Facility in Manor Park,’ said Henley.

  Stanford pressed play on the laptop and swung it towards Karen. She watched the footage, her face expressionless.

  ‘Is that you walking out with Elliot Cheung’s head in a box?’ Stanford asked.

  Karen put her hands to her forehead, visibly distressed.

  ‘Is that you in the video?’ Stanford repeated. ‘It’s not a difficult question.’ Stanford’s tone indicated firmly that there was only one acceptable answer.

  ‘Yes,’ Karen said quietly. ‘Yes.’

  ‘Were you outside Detective Inspector Henley’s house when Elliot Cheung’s head was left on her doorstep?’ he asked.

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Did Olivier give you instructions to remain outside the Inspector’s home and to film her?’

  Karen’s voice was barely a whisper. Her face still hidden behind her hands. ‘Yes,’ she said.

  ‘You need to speak up,’ said Henley.

  ‘I said, yes,’ Karen shouted. ‘He wanted to see everything. He wanted to see you.’

  Henley watched as Karen struggled to keep hold of the dark, poisonous feelings of jealousy that were boiling inside of her.

  ‘Did you know that he was calling other women?’ Henley asked, pulling out a photograph of Lauren Varma.