Clicking away from her personal email, one she had set up specifically for communicating with Brandt when she had discovered his direct involvement in Franklin’s death, she decided that she could do her bit to speed up communications. She would knock off early so that she would be at home and on her laptop for when Brandt logged on this evening. That way she could ensure there was more of a dialogue than passing messages like ships in the night. If needed, she would tell Potter she was revisiting the crime scene in the morning to allow herself enough space to converse with Brandt undisturbed then as well.
Chapter Thirty-nine
Brandt wasn’t surprised that his email that evening elicited an immediate response. Her impatience was demonstrably clear and Johnson being the woman of action he had come to know, he had expected little else than her now undivided attention. That she would have to think on her feet lest she risk losing their communication also pleased him.
– Let me put it in simpler terms for you. What sort of a person seeks to copy others?
– Those who lack imagination?
– Not true! The very thing they are doing is imagining themselves in the shoes of the person they are seeking to replicate. Try again…
– Impressionable?
– Much better. Good in fact. Now run with that for a moment.
– Could be someone who is vulnerable. Perhaps they have been damaged by something in their past.
– True, but that could be anyone. Which is of no help. Try and think broader. What people are most likely to be impressionable?
– The young.
– Bingo!
– Is that it?! You could have told me that without getting me to send you all the files.
– Yes, I could… but I didn’t KNOW it was someone young at that stage.
– Go on…
Brandt let out a small titter of pleasure. He was enjoying this. Not only had he found his analytical mind was a prominent muscle that had needed little attention in order to get back into perfect shape, but to display it, parade it even, in front of his fiercest critic was providing him with a source of great entertainment.
– How did his killings differ from mine? For the moment let’s leave out the unfortunate business with Sarah Donovan.
– The main differences were in the nature of the stabbings themselves. As you will have seen from the photographs, they were less focused.
Brandt smiled. He had nearly forced her into a compliment and he wasn’t going to let her get away with being quite so vague. Less focused? He could imagine how frustrated she would be at his deliberate obtuseness.
– Yours were more targeted.
– And his?
– Less controlled. More sporadic.
– More vicious? Tell you what, you don’t need to answer that. Ah, the exuberance of youth!
– How can you be so certain?
– Well perhaps we could dismiss his first act in Nottingham as the product of all that nervous tension. Leading him, if you like, to overdo it a little.
– But your first wasn’t like that…
– No, but we’ll come to that later. Instead, let us visit Sarah Donovan’s house.
– What about it?
– It displayed a certain confidence wouldn’t you say? And I don’t just mean in terms of going around to a house this time, knowing that her husband was also likely to be there. Tell me about the manner in which he dealt with Mr Ramage?
– Well obviously you’ve read the report so I assume you’re asking me what I make of it. It shows a confidence, not just in that he was prepared to take on Josh, but how effectively he dispatched him.
– Yes, no over exuberance there, just a nice little slash to the throat followed up by a solid stamp to the head.
– There’s no need to sound so proud of it…
– Tsk-tsk Miss Johnson, and we were starting to get on so well. Instead of petty jibes why don’t you focus on the contrast between that and poor Sarah…
– Okay, so you’ve made your point. He is far less controlled than you were because he chooses to be. And that means he must be someone young?
– Put it all together and it does. There is no agenda here which suggests a lack of life experience. That there seems to be no sexual motivation either also suggests that he may appear on the outside as someone who is well-adjusted. Perhaps he even has a girlfriend. And like all ambitious, intelligent young people he soon grew tired of following my example and wanted to go beyond what I did. For if he were just some unimaginative traumatised loser who you originally depicted him as, he would still be painting by numbers and sticking to replicating what I did rather than what he thought I had been trying to do.
– So, what is he going to do next?
– Have you ever considered he might come for you?
– Do you really think so?
– No. Perhaps he might have done before Sarah but if he is to kill again then it’s going to be something different.
– Like what?
– I haven’t got the first idea what. But that’s the point. Sarah Donovan was the transition to him breaking his ties with me. There’s a chance he will consider himself finished for that is the folly of the young. One minute’s obsession is replaced the next moment by something new and more exciting.
– So that’s it, he’s just stopped now?
– I didn’t say he HAS stopped, I said he might have. Regardless, there’s no point trying to predict what he will do next because it is unpredictable. His next kill would be new and distinct because it would no longer be tied to me. It would be like hunting for a new killer again.
– So how the hell do we stop him?
– By focusing on the past rather than the future.
– Go on…
– If only I could but, unlike you Miss Johnson, I have plans this evening. But whilst I’m out enjoying myself don’t consider yourself left without anything to do. If you read back through the thread of this conversation you might find you no longer require my assistance. Ta ta x
‘Are you out of the bath yet, dear?’ Brandt called up the stairs.
‘Yes,’ came the irritable reply. ‘I’m already dressed and unless you do the same in the next five minutes, we’re going to be late.’
‘Shame,’ Brandt muttered under his breath. His email exchange with Johnson had made him rather hope he would find Kath still with just a towel wrapped around her.
Chapter Forty
The thought of that murdering bastard out enjoying himself wasn’t the main reason why Johnson found herself restless that night. It wasn’t even the fact that he would know she would be deeply irritated by it. It was the smug way in which he had left her dangling. Without doubt they had made progress but rather than either reveal the full extent of his insight into the killer, or simply say he’d had enough for the evening, he had cryptically suggested she would find the rest of the answer buried in their conversation.
She might have believed him to be telling the truth, but it didn’t stop her feeling a fool as she read and reread the email chain. What’s more, revisiting what he had typed only served to make her feel more resentful of the nature of their relationship. Whilst he had been online, she hadn’t had time to dwell on the patronising comments and the thinly veiled slights. Take, for example, his insistence of calling her Miss Johnson rather than DCI Johnson or even just plain Stella. Not that she would ever call him Mr Brandt, much less Jeffrey. He was keeping things suitably impersonal and she had to remind herself that this was just a temporary arrangement and whatever pleasure he was deriving from having her as a captive audience for his puerile insults was worth it given everything at stake.
With the clock informing her it was well past midnight, she went to bed; more out of defiance than belief that she may actually get some sleep. It therefore came as something of a surprise when she woke up to find the first rays of dawn pouring through the window. However, it would seem that her brain hadn’t completely switched off because she woke up
with an idea in her head. She could feel herself starting to lose grip of it, in much the same way one does a dream that had initially seemed so vivid, but she managed to cling on just enough to cause her to immediately head for her laptop and the email thread from last night.
Scrolling down to the relevant place, she stopped over a specific part of her discussion with Brandt:
Well perhaps we could dismiss his first act in Nottingham as the product of all that nervous tension. Leading him, if you like, to overdo it a little.
But your first wasn’t like that…
No, but we’ll come to that later. Instead, let us visit Sarah Donovan’s house.
What had her mind latched onto whilst she slept? Was it because of the last bit? But surely that could have just been because he was concerned it would lead them off on a tangent? If it was unimportant, then, why say we’ll come to that later?
They hadn’t got around to discussing it, but perhaps that was the point. He could have said we’ll come to that in a moment or something similar, but later could mean another time.
Johnson wasn’t convinced this was going to take her anywhere, but she had learned throughout her career that a lead was a lead and warranted exploring until such point as it was proven false.
If this was the section Brandt had been referring to when he said, if you read back through the thread of this conversation you might find you no longer require my assistance, then it had to be something to do with the difference between his first attack and the killer they were hunting. Aside from this new guy going for the river first, rather than the station, there was the obvious fact that Brandt’s attack had only hospitalised Sarah instead of killing her. But then they’d already discussed how the viciousness of these new attacks weren’t the result of first time nerves.
‘Oh. My. God!’ Johnson exclaimed loudly into the silence of her flat. That was exactly what Brandt had been getting at. It all seemed so obvious to her now.
Well perhaps we could dismiss his first act in Nottingham as the product of all that nervous tension. Leading him, if you like, to overdo it a little.
Johnson had gone along with this statement at the time because it was what she believed to have been the case. But Brandt had gone on to disprove it by illustrating that the lack of control the murderer continued to display wasn’t through nerves, but was a chosen behaviour, as illustrated by the simplicity with which he dispatched Josh Ramage, someone who didn’t represent his primary objective.
But that in itself wouldn’t be enough to lead Johnson anywhere, were it not for something in that message she had overlooked. His first act in Nottingham. There it was, clear as day. Brandt was saying this guy was already a killer before he started his copycat murders in Nottingham. Why he thought this, Johnson didn’t know, but it now made sense to her. The killings themselves displayed a confidence that seemed unlikely for his first time, and far less tentative than Brandt’s had been on Sarah, but also it fitted the notion of a copycat. For this person to want to follow in Brandt’s footsteps then it implied a certain degree of hero worship. Surely, they would have been scared that they may not be able to live up to the example of the person who inspired them so much? Therefore, it would make sense to dip their toe in the water first to see if they were capable. That’s why Brandt was so dismissive of trying to draw a comparison between his first attack and the woman’s murder on the River Trent.
Johnson knew that she needed time to think what her next steps should be in light of this discovery, but there was something she would do first. It was still early, and she wanted to message Brandt before he could send her anything. She would have dearly loved to see the look on his face when he realised that she had taken what he had believed was a cryptic clue and smashed it.
– I need to get in the office early today. I don’t know when I’ll be able to contact you next.
Johnson sat there staring at the cursor blinking next to her full stop. Rather than make her feel powerful, she could see how weak it was. Suggesting that she didn’t need him anymore was not only petty but quite possibly false. Until she had something concrete to go on, she couldn’t be sure that she wouldn’t require his help again and all this message would do is make him less likely to provide it. That Brandt liked to play games was already clear and she could well imagine him ignoring her for a couple of days to re-establish who really was in control here.
So, what if showing a touch of deference massaged his ego? There were much more important things at stake here and, besides, the sooner she could find this killer the sooner she could concentrate on locating Brandt again.
She hit backspace until all of the text was removed and began typing again.
– I’m in the office following up your lead. I’ll let you know how I’m getting on. Feel free to share any further thoughts you may have.
It made her feel sick sending such an obsequious message to a serial killer but she sent it anyway.
Chapter Forty-one
Brandt woke up to find the other side of the bed empty. He wasn’t surprised he had overslept. He hadn’t been lying when he had said to Johnson that he had been going out. It may have only been to the pub to meet some friends, and Kath’s keenness to go he had taken as a sign that she had got over whatever concerns she’d had about him using the internet so much, but the email exchange had put him in a particularly good mood. He still had needed to be careful not to over-indulge but had allowed himself to drink enough that he felt a pleasant buzz as they walked back to the house in the cold night air.
A quick glance at the alarm clock told him it wasn’t late and, in fact, earlier than Kath typically rose. He hoped he hadn’t kept her awake with his snoring, an unfortunate side-effect of his drinking that Susan had resented so much. Kath could be a sensitive soul and he knew that the best way of ensuring it wouldn’t hamper the day would be to tackle it straight away.
Brandt arrived downstairs to find her in the kitchen with the newspaper and a pot of tea beside her. Clearly, she had been up for some time if she’d already got dressed and had gone to the shop.
‘I’m sorry I disturbed you last night.’
‘What’s that dear?’ Kath asked, looking up from the article.
‘I said I’m sorry about my snoring. You know… if it woke you.’
‘Oh, that’s fine,’ she replied, going back to what she was reading.
‘Perhaps it would be nice to go out today.’
‘Yes, perhaps.’
Brandt didn’t like the way Kath was acting. ‘I was thinking maybe it was time we went back to the Welsh food market.’ That was bound to provoke a reaction.
‘If you like.’
‘Something interesting in the news?’
‘Just the usual.’
Brandt had enough of this. He didn’t know why Kath was in a strange mood, but he had done his best to generate a bit of warmth from her and had more important things to attend to.
‘I might check the headlines myself on the BBC website,’ he said, wandering out of the kitchen. Hopefully she’d have a nice fry up cooked for him when he was done.
‘Atta girl,’ he murmured, reading Johnson’s message. For a fleeting moment, he considered what a good team they might have made if she had joined his CID back in the day. He was also intrigued by the cheerfulness of her tone that went beyond excitement for getting a lead. She was trying to butter him up in the hope he would be more attentive. The reality was Brandt didn’t need encouragement, he was enjoying this far too much.
– Good. Start with places like Milton Keynes and Canterbury.
Even now he couldn’t bring himself to type St. Albans, but he knew that Johnson would understand that he was referring to the other places where he had killed.
– I wouldn’t go further back than six months, but it may be he didn’t use the same method then. If that draws blanks you’re obviously going to have to widen your search.
‘What time do you want to leave?’
‘Huh?’ Brandt was
startled by Kath’s sudden appearance at the doorway.
‘You mentioned going to the Welsh food market…’
‘Oh yeah… er, you don’t mind if we stay in after all, do you? I’m not sure I’m ready for all that yet and, anyway, the weather forecast doesn’t look too good.’
‘Fine,’ she replied, leaving him alone again.
‘And make me a fucking bacon sandwich,’ he muttered under his breath. There was no way he was going out today now, and certainly not to visit that prick Mr Jones.
Chapter Forty-two
‘What’s got into you?’
‘Nothing, I’m fine.’
‘But you’ve been like this for days, Jack. Are you trying to avoid me?’
‘Why would I?’
‘I don’t know, that’s why I’m asking!’ Mandy huffed. ‘Fine, I’ll see you at the seminar this afternoon.’
‘Yeah, sure,’ Jack replied, happy to be able to be alone again. He shut the door to his room and lay down on the bed. He could hardly blame Mandy for being so pushy, he had been different. He felt different. The discovery that the knife, his knife, was just an implement for cutting up one’s dinner again had been even worse than he had feared at the time. With the news sites having moved on to discuss other events, it was as though the two things had conspired to make everything he’d done seem like a dream. He’d tried to get over it, but couldn’t turn his mind to other things. Jack knew it was totally irrational, but he had even considered going around to Sarah’s house just to make sure he hadn’t imagined it all, and she wasn’t inside playing happy families with her husband.
The solution to his problem had presented itself very early on but until now he had refused to entertain it. Even if he was prepared to risk killing again so that he could reinvigorate the knife once more, he had no idea who and where. He tried to remind himself that his first murder, on Whitstable beach, had been all his own doing but so much had changed since then. Not only had he lived up to the example set by Brandt but he had surpassed it with Sarah. Even if he could get to Milton Keynes or St. Albans, it would seem like a step backwards. Of course, there was always DCI Johnson, but that would take a huge amount of planning and he didn’t feel that time was on his side. At the rate he was going, he was liable to lose Mandy and that was something he could not allow to happen.
Smoke and Mirrors Page 18