The Fourth Victim

by John Mead

  ‘I realise the evidence is somewhat limited, CPS wouldn’t disagree with you on that,’ Swift stated, determined to remain calm, he had never seen Merry as frustrated and annoyed as currently, though he understood that being told the investigation should be wound up was cause enough for any good detective to question if they had found out all they could about a suspect. ‘Unfortunately, the recent terror incidents have pushed the entire Met to its limit and, reluctantly, I’ve had to agree to release more officers. Hayden is needed elsewhere while Ray and his team could support other investigations part-time, though they would still be based here and you will have first call on them.’

  ‘Jenny is due to be released tomorrow morning, we can arrest and detain her then, even on what we have now,’ Lukula stated, determined to bridge the rift between Merry and Swift. ‘We’ve arranged to visit Albert Cowan in Belmarsh this afternoon, to see what he can give us, but from what you have told us about her time in Fort William and Newcastle, it tends to confirm that she should be our focus at the moment.’

  ‘I don’t think we are ready to arrest her just yet,’ Merry stated, it didn’t help that he couldn’t formulate his concerns clearly enough to convince the others, but then conceded, ‘but I agree we should interview her again before deciding on how to proceed, assuming her solicitor agrees.’

  ‘That’s the point, Matthew,’ Swift patiently explained, ‘unless we arrest her I suspect her lawyer will cry foul again and advise her client that she has nothing to answer. Cowan’s prints on the plastic bag justified searching her flat, hopefully the DNA from the blood on her shoulder bag will clinch things. In the meantime we should push on, get her interviewed on tape, and not let up on the pressure.’

  ‘Very well,’ Merry shrugged, ‘but we should have Doctor Hassan present, to help make sense of who is saying what and how the parts all relate.’

  ‘Fine,’ although Swift didn’t sound too pleased with the idea, ‘have it set up so she can listen in and suggest questions directly to you from outside the room. However, remember it’s not for us to determine the impact of Cowan’s mental state on her guilt. That, thank God, will be for the court to decide,’ Swift, somewhat high-handedly, pointed out.

  Belmarsh is situated south of the Thames on the site of the old Royal Arsenal, in Woolwich, and it reminded Merry of childhood rides on the Woolwich ferries, in the days when it was still possible to go below decks and watch the engines in operation. From the outside the prison was a mix of supermarket redbrick and razor wire, while the inside was modern nondescript with more than a dash of high-security. Albert Cowan was of medium height but a muscular and heavy set build, his dark hair and unshaven face matched the darkness of his eyes and sour, world weary expression. Neither Merry nor Lukula could detect any family resemblance with Jenny Cowan beyond the slightly hunted look in his eyes, a product of their common upbringing.

  ‘I’m DI Merry, this is DS Lukula, we have a few questions to ask you,’ Merry paused, but Albert simply maintained his silent stare, uncertain whether he should look menacing or simply bored. ‘You don’t look anything like your sister,’ Merry continued, unexpectedly switching from the impersonal brevity of his introduction to a more personal tone.

  ‘No,’ Albert’s monosyllabic response said much less than the puzzled expression that passed over his face about why his sister had been mentioned, as it helped Merry if Albert didn’t know about his sister’s suspected involvement with the killings.

  ‘I’m sorry to inform you that she is in hospital, physically she is fine and due to be released but there are concerns about her mental health,’ Merry informed Cowan as matter of factly as he could, he wanted this to sound routine and mundane.

  ‘Hardly news, she’s been a nut job for as long as I can remember,’ Cowan informed them his bored expression returning.

  ‘She was about six or seven when you were both put into foster care, you are four years older than her, is that correct?’ Merry asked, unnecessarily consulting his notebook.

  ‘There abouts,’ Albert agreed, adding, ‘our dad was a drunk and ma was a prozzie. Life’s a bitch ain’t it.’

  ‘How was life as a foster child?’ Lukula asked, Albert had been eyeing her since he had been brought in, it was about four years since he had been this close to a woman, at least one that didn’t have a cock and false tits.

  ‘Shit, is that why you are here? Bit late on checking up on that old pair of bastards, aren’t you?’ Albert scowled with disdain, he had no feelings about his life, it was what it was, but there still remained a deep well of anger in his gut at the memory of his foster parents, especially the old guy.

  ‘No, as deserving as that might be, although we are aware you and your sister had a hard time of it, particularly your sister,’ Lukula sympathised. ‘She ended up in a lot of trouble because of her upbringing, didn’t she.’

  ‘Did she?’ Albert mused, smiling as he glanced around at the walls, to suggest he had troubles of his own.

  ‘She got involved with drugs and boys quite early on,’ Merry stated. ‘Did you have anything to do with that?’

  ‘She didn’t need much persuading,’ Albert shrugged, he had little feelings for a sister who at one moment was loving, another in a rage and at other times pretended not to know him.

  ‘Although you were involved in persuading her?’ Merry didn’t expect and didn’t get an answer, ‘There are quite a few who thought you were the one who attacked her at the ruined castle.’

  ‘I was in Glasgow at the time.’

  ‘Unfortunately, no one could be found to confirm that,’ Lukula pointed out the flaw in his alibi.

  ‘So what? I was questioned and never arrested or charged,’ Albert sat back, crossing his arms, feeling no need to be defensive.

  ‘Did you see her after the attack?’ Merry asked.

  ‘I went to the hospital when I came back from Glasgow but the police were there. After the police had questioned me I went back to Glasgow and I haven’t seen her since,’ Albert was bored again, glancing up at the clock on the wall.

  ‘You were in Newcastle about the same time she was, you didn’t meet up?’ Lukula asked, the plan she and Merry had agreed on during the car journey to the prison was coming to a head.

  ‘No.’

  ‘But you went back to Mallaig before you went to Glasgow?’ Merry asked, his tone still neutral and unconcerned, his eyes still on his notebook.

  ‘Yes,’ Albert stated, growing impatient. ‘It’ll soon be dinner.’

  ‘Not much longer. You went to Mallaig to meet with your supplier, is that why Jenny went there the day she was attacked?’

  ‘I don’t know why she went,’ Albert, suddenly alert, skated over the reference to his supplier, thinking himself on safer ground talking about Jenny. ‘She hadn’t been happy for a while, kept on and on that she weren’t Jenny but someone else, saying she’d had enough paying off a debt that weren’t hers.’

  ‘Oh yes, her debt,’ Merry looked up from his notebook, ‘was that to her supplier or someone else exactly, my notes aren’t clear.’

  ‘Your notes are way off,’ Albert informed him, happy he had sidestepped the issue about his involvement. ‘It was her job to pay off people, only she’d spent the money she’d been given so had to pay it back in kind. Why do you want to know for now?’

  ‘The supplier left the area after the attack on Jenny, did you ever see him again?’ Lukula asked.

  ‘No, it was Jenny into drugs and that, not me,’ Albert responded, once more wary and defensive.

  ‘Was there anyone else up in Mallaig she might have seen that day?’ Merry asked, sensing that Albert was going to clam up soon. ‘Or anyone she was expecting to meet back in Fort William when she returned?’

  ‘I was asked that before, at the time, and I said then I didn’t know nothing about the attack or who might have done it. I still don’t,’ Albert was
wondering where all this was leading to, his mind trying to catch-up as they seemed to jump from one line of questioning to another.

  ‘Did Jenny have any close friends, either in Fort William or Mallaig?’ Merry suddenly jumped at a long shot like a gambler putting his last pound on an outsider.

  ‘No, not Jenny,’ Albert seemed surprised at the thought, ‘she ain’t the kind to make friends. There was some Asian tart in Mallaig, she was pretty as I remember but stuck up. She hung about, bought a few pills, she’d chat with Jenny a bit but I don’t know if they were friends exactly,’ Albert paused, willing himself to shut up until he could grasp the angle the two filth were trying to play. ‘Why are you here?’ The interview wound up quickly after that, as Albert’s cooperation fizzled out.

  ‘Where did that get us?’ Julie asked as they pulled away from the prison carpark.

  ‘Nowhere,’ Merry admitted. ‘Just trying to confirm what was in the report Dianne Allaway gave me. I still think we need to unravel more about Jenny’s past to understand how she fits into the deaths of the three girls, I still think that is what John was trying to tell us. The reality is we don’t have that much on Jenny, apart from the Tesco bag and a bleached hammer. Oh, and she has the same shoe size as the killer, at least we think it is the killer’s shoe size.’

  ‘There are things we know about her background: she is mentally disturbed, has had violent episodes and you said the Newcastle police thought she planned the hammer attack on her abusive boyfriend. Even if she only purchased it to defend herself with, it shows intent,’ Lukula pointed out. ‘And, if it turns out to be Lynsey’s blood on the shoulder bag that was found at her flat, we have her.

  ‘It’s just that Jenny Cowan sounds more like a victim than a suspect: abused as a child, attacked as a teenager, a brief and abusive relationship as a young woman, now this?’

  ‘We can question her on our own terms tomorrow when we bring her in, maybe that will throw more light on all this,’ Lukula tried to remain optimistic in the face of Merry’s black mood. ‘You know Alima thinks somewhere deep inside Jenny’s shattered psyche these killings are Jenny’s way of hitting back.’

  ‘Shit, shit, shit, shit,’ Lukula muttered under the wailing of the siren, infuriated at herself for the morning’s disastrous events.

  ‘I’m sorry, sir,’ Merry was trying not to shout into his phone, but it was hard making himself heard above the siren and Lukula’s swearing, ‘but the hospital seems not to have recorded our interest in Cowan, nor our instructions about not releasing her before we arrived.’ Swift interrupted Merry’s explanation once again to angrily explain this was policing 101 and he expected more from his two senior and supposedly experienced officers. Merry calmly listened, feeling noble at taking the heat for Lukula who had failed to ensure the hospital clearly understood the situation, before continuing, ‘They have their own staffing shortages, sir, and apparently it isn’t uncommon to release patients late on a Friday, instead of when planned on a Saturday, so the relief staff working at weekends aren’t overly taxed. If I’d known I’d have detailed an officer to keep a watch on her, but given how securely they oversee their patients I thought it an unnecessary drain on manpower.’

  Merry didn’t doubt that his words and tone were as a red rag to a bull and, for one reason or another, he probably deserved the dressing down Swift proceeded to give him.

  ‘Yes, sir, I will sir, though that is another reason I phoned you, sir,’ Merry found himself smiling at the number of sirs he could insert into a sentence, ‘we are on our way to her flat now, sir. Unfortunately, it being Saturday and what with our own manpower shortage, there isn’t anyone at the office to get the necessary alerts out. Hopefully Jenny will be at her flat but we should put out an alert across London, stations and bus terminals, etc. We know she doesn’t have a passport, but she has links to Newcastle and Fort William, so I hoped, sir, you could get someone to initiate things.’

  There was a deep intake of breath at the other end of the line before, ‘You are a fucking idiot!’ Then the line went dead, though Merry suspected it wouldn’t be the last he heard from Swift that day.

  There was no sign of Jenny Cowan at her flat, the neighbours hadn’t seen her for days. Lukula phoned Doctor Hassan, as Merry drove them to Leanne’s place of work, but Alima couldn’t help with any suggestions as to where their suspect might have gone. Leanne’s work manager hadn’t seen her either and was surprised that the officers thought she still had a job after her absence. Merry tried to console Julie, who still blamed herself, by saying that it was probably the fun loving Jacky who was out partying and would no doubt soon reappear back at Leanne’s flat.

  Back at the Leman Street incident room they helped the still smouldering Swift, pulled in from his weekend break, set things in motion, including getting a PC stationed outside Leanne’s flat. Then Lukula was off out scouring the neighbourhood in her car while Merry stayed to listen to another lecture from Swift.

  ‘Tough day?’ Kathy asked her husband as he wearily slumped into the armchair.

  ‘Yes and then some,’ Merry said giving a half-hearted smile, he’d resolved that if he was going to be in Swift’s bad books he might as well go the whole hog and had booked tickets to Fort William and Mallaig, ‘The bad news is I’m back up to Scotland first thing in the morning. So I’m afraid the treehouse won’t get finished as planned.’

  ‘They’ll be teenagers and have other interests by the time you finish, at this rate,’ Kathy pushed herself into the chair next to him for a kiss and a hug. ‘Though at least I won’t have the worry of them falling out of it and breaking their necks,’ she quietly laughed, glad they’d have the night and breakfast together.

  16

  Mallaig was bright, clean and bustling with happy tourists, while Proctor was gloomy, unwelcoming and his house stuffy and smelling of dog.

  ‘I told you when you phoned you are wasting your time,’ Proctor informed Merry before he was barely over the man’s threshold.

  ‘I only have a couple of questions,’ Merry reassured him, ‘I simply need to know more about Jenny Cowan’s background, what led up to her attack.’

  Proctor, as an ex-copper, was resigned to helping a colleague and made them both a cup of tea, talking through the serving hatch between the kitchen and combined living and dining room.

  ‘Nice place to retire,’ Merry commented, making himself comfortable, while keeping a wary eye on the Labrador that lay watching him from its blanket in the corner by the TV. ‘Are you married?’

  ‘Was, kids grew up and moved on, as did the wife,’ Proctor gruffly called back, ‘she never took to my hours and the job but stuck it out until the kids flew the nest.’ The resignation at the inevitability of a lonely retirement made Merry think of his own marriage and how he took it for granted by assuming his passing affairs somehow didn’t matter. ‘You wanted to know about Jenny Cowan?’

  ‘Yes, I’ve spoken to her brother and he seems to suggest she was more involved in drugs than was in the original report.’

  ‘She was caught up in it more because her brother pushed her into it than anything else,’ Proctor emerged with the tea and sat in an armchair, tapping his knee to beckon the dog over to lie at his feet, a position they were both obviously used to adopting.

  ‘Did she have a history of violence, recorded or not?’ Merry asked, the tea was hot and strong but the milk too creamy for his taste.

  ‘Not as such, not to get her arrested. She’d occasionally cause a scene, fly off the handle, it might end in a slap or two. It was usually all over nothing and ended as quick as it started but it wasn’t always her fault and it wasn’t always her giving the slaps; she wasn’t well liked. We got called out a few of times, but she had a habit of running off after any flare up, so we were usually more concerned about finding her and taking her home than the disturbance.’

  ‘You believe the final attack on her was relat
ed to drugs?’

  ‘Aye, not that the DCI who investigated thought so. Although, whether he was here to cover it up or was simply an arse, I can’t say,’ Proctor huffed, his disdain for what had happened only too evident.

  ‘Why should he do that?’ Merry pressed on, waiting for Proctor to decide just how much of what he knew to reveal to the officer from the Met.

  ‘Mallaig was just a part of a much bigger puzzle,’ Proctor poured some of his tea into a saucer and set it down for his dog to lap. ‘Drugs came up through Latvia, then into Denmark and by boat to Ireland. There were innumerable stops on the way to feed Sweden, Germany, France, Scotland and Northern England A fishing boat, out of Mallaig’s small harbour, would meet another boat out in the North Sea, drugs were swapped for money and then returned to port. Twice a month Alby Cowan drove the truck with its cargo of fish and cocaine down into Glasgow and brought back money for the next shipment and to pay all the locals involved, including various officials, to look the other way.’

  ‘Alby organised this end?’ Merry could see him as muscle but not as a key figure in an operation of the scale Proctor was describing.

  ‘No, he was far from the brains,’ Proctor snorted laughter at the question. ‘It was a Glasgow based gang that was behind the Scottish end of things, but they had a man based here who was the owner of the two fishing boats that did the pick ups out at sea. Not long after Jenny was attacked a joint European task force shut the whole thing down. The boat owner disappeared, probably dropped into the ocean, and shortly after Alby ran off to Newcastle. As I remember Jenny was put into an asylum for a while and then moved to Edinburgh.’

  ‘She was attacked because of her involvement with this gang?’

  ‘Yes and no,’ Proctor stated unhelpfully, then seeing the inspector’s annoyed expression, explained, ‘Jenny could be a lovely girl and she was bright, occasionally she’d have these temper tantrums, like car rage but without the car. But, she could also be muddle headed and not know one end of a spoon from the other, so making her the go-between who took drugs and money up and down the rail line between here and Fort William to pay off the locals and Alby was a risk. Rumour had it she’d lost or spent some of the money that weren’t hers and the man she should have paid off whacked her a bit too hard.’