Megan laughed, shaking her head. ‘Where were you thinking of eating?’
‘One of the balti places in Sparkhill – is that okay?’
‘Great. I’ll pick you up if you like. Then you don’t have to worry about driving.’
‘Are you sure?’
‘Yes. It’s a bit sad if you can’t have a few drinks on your birthday.’
‘We could always get a taxi.’
‘No, it’s okay. I don’t drink much these days anyway.’ It wasn’t a lie: more of a convenient excuse. Offering to drive was her way of being in control, but she didn’t want Patrick to know that. Changing the subject before he could pursue the idea of a taxi she asked him what he thought of the Jackson case.
‘Well, I’m intrigued by this faked suicide,’ he replied. ‘If you hadn’t already mentioned this business of corruption I’d have guessed at it being an ex-policeman.’
‘Why?’
‘Well anyone who plays games with the police has to know a certain amount about the way they operate. You say this guy has never been fingerprinted or had a blood or saliva sample taken?’
‘That’s right.’
‘So he probably didn’t gain his knowledge simply from being arrested a few times, which means he must have come in contact with the police in some other context. Whatever it was, it’s left him with a grudge against them.’
‘That’s exactly what I thought. I mean, it all points to either a bent copper or an ex-copper. I got the distinct impression last night that Martin Leverton had been knocked off balance by this latest case. It’s turned into something very different from a couple of dead prostitutes and I think he’s far less confident than he was yesterday morning.’
‘What’s he like, this Leverton?’ Patrick asked, leaning back in his chair. ‘Has he had much to do with our department in the past?’
‘Not really, no. I first met him a couple of years ago on a local rape inquiry. He seemed very nice – you know, enlightened approach to rape victims and all that.’ She paused, her good mood fading. ‘But since then I’ve only really had dealings with him when I’ve been requesting access to police records, or bringing him here as a guest lecturer. We haven’t worked on any actual cases together.’
‘What made you think he was trying to use you to get someone in his force?’
‘Well, it was several things, really. First of all, I couldn’t work out why they’d call in a profiler for two dead hookers. Secondly, I know Martin Leverton doesn’t rate profiling. He thinks psychology is just common sense and that any detective worth his salt shouldn’t need an academic to tell him where to start looking.’
‘Did he say that?’
‘Oh no, not in so many words. I can just tell by the things he’s said at conferences. He’s always been incredibly polite to my face, but I’m sure he doesn’t rate me for anything other than the academic research this department produces.’
Megan sipped her coffee and gazed out of the window. Tiny flakes of snow had dusted the cars like icing sugar. Grey, pot-bellied clouds hung in the sky like sieves poised to shake. ‘There’s another thing he said yesterday that made me suspicious of his motives.’
‘What?’ Patrick put his empty mug on the desk and glanced across at Megan. She was still staring out of the window.
‘He made a point of bringing two Vice Squad officers in to speak to me about the murdered prostitutes. They didn’t really tell me anything he couldn’t have told me himself, and after they’d gone he said they were both being moved to other jobs in the New Year. He as good as told me that one of them – the sergeant – was getting the push because he’d been messing about with some of the women on his beat.’
‘Sounds a bit heavy-handed,’ Patrick said. ‘If that’s the bloke he suspects, why would he want to make it so obvious?’
‘Just what I thought,’ Megan replied, swinging her chair round to face Patrick. ‘It almost makes me think it’s some kind of double bluff. My best guess is that Leverton thought a pimp had murdered Donna Fieldhouse and Natalie Bailey, and someone in the Vice Squad – probably this Rob Donalsen – knew but was being blackmailed by the pimp to keep quiet.’
‘And he called you in to put the frighteners on the guy?’
‘Something like that, yes. The stupid thing is that on the evidence of the prostitute murders alone I wouldn’t necessarily have pinpointed a police officer as a suspect; it was the Jackson case that suggested a police connection, which makes Leverton’s attitude even more strange.’
‘Is he still after a profile?’
‘Yes. They’re holding a press conference.’ She looked at her watch. ‘In about half an hour.’
Patrick looked at her incredulously. ‘A press conference? Whose idea was that?’
‘Good question. According to Leverton, someone leaked the pathologist’s report on the Jackson case to the papers. They’ve got to say something, so muggins here has been asked to come up with the goods.’
‘So what are you going to give him?’
‘Well, I’ve got three profiles – one for the press and two others for Leverton’s own private consumption.’ She handed him a sheaf of papers and he read them as she finished her coffee.
‘You think the one who killed Donna Fieldhouse could be a local pimp. So what’s the connection between him and the other guy?’
‘I think the AB guy is dominating the O character in some way. He has some sort of hold on him because I don’t think O is a true serial killer. Donna Fieldhouse looked like the victim of a domestic argument that went too far. I don’t think O would necessarily have killed again if it hadn’t been for the involvement of this other guy.’
‘You think he’s blackmailing the O man?’
‘Could be, if he knew about Donna’s death before Natalie was killed.’
‘But that policeman – the Vice Squad sergeant you mentioned – he couldn’t blackmail a pimp if the pimp knew he was bent, could he?’
‘No, probably not.’ Megan put her empty mug down on the desk, her eyes narrowing as she stared at a patch of sea in the photo on her wall. ‘But I never said I agreed with Leverton, did I? I do think the AB killer has some sort of police connection, but he could just be a regular punter who knows O well and happened to be around when Donna was murdered. On the other hand he could be a drug dealer who supplies the O man. We know Donna was a crack addict and Natalie had traces of it in her blood. Suppose O is on it too and he owes the supplier money?’
Patrick frowned, weighing up the odds of each of these possibilities being likely.
‘What I do know,’ Megan looked at the bundle of papers in Patrick’s hand, ‘is that I’ve left nearly as much out of those profiles as I’ve put in.’
‘What do you mean?’
She shrugged. ‘I can’t get anywhere near the truth while Leverton’s being so cagey, so I’m about to play him at his own game.’ She looked at him, wondering if she could trust him. God, she thought, you’ve just agreed to go for dinner with the guy – you’re getting paranoid. ‘Something happened last night.’ She told him about Delva’s photograph. ‘I might be wrong, but it looked so like what happened to Natalie and Tina.’
‘You think the AB man has been sending Delva these sick letters?’
‘No. Not AB. O.’
‘O? The pimp?’
‘Sounds crazy, doesn’t it? That’s why I’m not telling Leverton what I really think. It can’t be AB because he’s into domination – not being dominated, as all Delva’s other letters suggest. I’m sure there’s a connection but I haven’t worked it out yet. I need to know if that stain on the photo is semen, and if so, what the blood group is.’
‘And if it’s O?’
‘Get a DNA test done. See if it matches up with the swabs from Donna Fieldhouse.’
Patrick nodded slowly.
Megan glanced at her watch. ‘I’m going to have to go,’ she said. ‘I’ve got to catch Leverton when he comes out of the press conference.’
�
�I’ll walk you to your car.’ Patrick held the door as she grabbed her coat. ‘This Vice Squad sergeant – what’s his name again?’
‘Rob Donalsen.’
‘Is there any chance he could be the AB killer?’
‘A chance, yes – not very probable, though.’
‘Why not?’
‘His behaviour. Couldn’t charm his way into a paper bag, let alone a woman’s house.’
Patrick laughed. ‘Do you think that’s what’s got Leverton confused?’
‘Probably, yes. What intrigues me, though, is this blood group thing.’ She pushed open the plate glass doors. Powdery snow crunched under their feet as they walked towards the car park. ‘Up until yesterday Leverton was focusing on the type O samples found on Donna and Natalie, but he now knows that Tina’s killer has AB type blood. If he suspects Donalsen, he could easily get hold of his medical records and check out his blood group. In fact, when I think about it, he could have checked him out long before the post mortem on Tina Jackson.’
‘How?’
‘Well, Leverton said they’d found a fingerprint on Natalie Bailey’s body, but it didn’t match anything on file – he could easily have checked to see if it matched Donalsen’s. The thing is, he had that forensic report on Natalie before he called me in on the case.’
‘So the print couldn’t have been Donalsen’s, could it?’ Patrick said. ‘Otherwise why would he have bothered calling you in?’
‘Exactly,’ Megan replied. ‘So what the hell’s he playing at?’
Megan took out her car keys. As she opened the door her mobile rang out. ‘Hello? Neil! How did it go? Oh, that’s great news!’
Patrick raised his hand in a brief farewell. Megan nodded back, too distracted to notice that he had walked off with the profiles in his hand.
Chapter 8
The foyer of police headquarters was milling with photographers, cameramen and journalists when Megan arrived. The press conference had just ended and they were jostling each other in their rush to file the latest news.
A television reporter was filming a piece to camera outside the main doors. He looked vaguely familiar and Megan spotted the BTV logo on the side of the camera. She pulled the soft woollen hood of her coat closer to her face, not wanting to be recognised.
Leverton had seemed anxious not to reveal her involvement to the press. She thought again of his remarks about her resemblance to Tina Jackson. Was this attempt to keep her out of the limelight some misguided act of chivalry on his part? She somehow doubted it, suspecting that the real reason had more to do with Leverton’s self-interest.
She wondered if he had had to field any difficult questions about the murder of Donna Fieldhouse. The media had never been informed of the forensic link between her body and Natalie Bailey’s. Leverton’s strategy for the press conference was simply to tell them that Tina and Dudley Jackson had been murdered by a third party. If asked about a link with Natalie Bailey he would merely say that the police were not ruling it out.
She settled down to wait in Leverton’s office, wondering how he would react to the photograph in her bag.
‘Hello Megan. What’s happened?’ He breezed into the room, looking totally unfazed by the interrogation he had no doubt received at the press conference.
‘There’s something here I think you should see.’ Megan laid the plastic wallet on the desk. ‘Don’t open it yet: if it’s what I think it is, it’ll need to go to the forensic lab.’
‘I’ll get someone up here.’ Leverton reached for the phone. ‘Are you going to tell me what it is – the suspense is killing me!’
‘Sorry!’ Megan smiled. She waited while he spoke to his secretary and when he put the phone down she began describing her visit to Delva and the photograph inside the envelope.
He stared at her. ‘Delva Lobelo’s pervert is our AB killer?’
She hesitated, not wanting to answer directly. ‘The first thing that made me link this pervert to Tina Jackson’s killer was the way the woman in the photo was lying,’ she said. ‘The arms were twisted in a really unnatural way: as if someone had handcuffed her to the bed while she was lying on her front, then turned her over onto her back. Then I noticed this tiny stain in the corner of the picture. I didn’t say anything to Delva, obviously, but I’m almost certain it’s semen.’
Megan flipped the plastic wallet over, revealing the front of the envelope. ‘This was hand-delivered. It’s got her name and BTV’s address on but there’s no stamp or postmark. Like I said before, looks like it’s someone who works there.’
Leverton pulled the plastic wallet towards him, peering at the writing on the envelope.
‘The thing is,’ Megan went on, ‘no one can get in or out of that building without being logged by the guards on the front or back desks. Unless they’ve got an appointment with someone they won’t get any further than that.’
Leverton’s gaze flicked from the envelope to Megan’s eyes, a look of amazement on his face. ‘So you think that the guy who killed Tina Jackson works at BTV?’
She hesitated. She needed to play this very carefully. ‘Well, I’d certainly say there was a connection, wouldn’t you?’
Before he could reply there was a knock at the door. A uniformed officer delivered gloves, tweezers and an official scenes-of-crime evidence bag. Leverton donned the gloves and picked up the tweezers. He opened the wallet and prised out the envelope.
Megan studied his face as he drew the photograph from the envelope with the tweezers.
‘My God!’ Leverton shook his head as he took in the image of the naked woman on the bed. ‘You’re right! He’s twisted her round for the photograph, hasn’t he?’
‘There’s no other explanation for it.’
‘Not that I can think of.’ He moved the image closer to his face. ‘That’s part of the handcuffs!’
‘Could be, couldn’t it?’
‘Where’s this semen trace you spotted?’ Megan stood up and walked round to Leverton’s chair. Leaning over his shoulder she pointed to the small blob in the bottom right-hand corner. Leverton moved the photo slightly, catching the light.
‘Oh yes! I see what you mean!’ He turned it over, angling the matt white side of the photo to the light with the tweezers. ‘Look at that!’ Suddenly Megan could see an even larger patch of the same crystalline substance she had spotted on the image of the woman.
‘Right!’ Leverton slid the photograph back into the envelope. ‘We need to get this DNA-tested as quickly as possible. In the meantime, though, I need to speak to Miss Lobelo. Does anyone at BTV know she’s given you this photo?’
‘I shouldn’t think so. Why?’
‘Well if the bloke who’s been sending her these letters really is our AB man we need to tread very carefully. We certainly don’t want him to know the police have been called in.’
Megan nodded. ‘As far as I know she hasn’t told anyone about my involvement. I suppose quite a few people know that we’ve been working together on a documentary but there’s no reason why anyone should think she’s talked to me about the letters.’ She paused, frowning.
‘What?’
‘That uniformed officer you said you were going to send round – better call him off.’
‘Oh, right.’ Leverton shifted in his seat.
Bastard, Megan thought, he’s done sod all about it.
‘Could you give Miss Lobelo a bell now and ask if I can call in on her as soon as she gets home?’ He pushed the phone across the desk.
Yes, sir – three bags full, sir. Megan dialed the BTV switchboard. She could hear the hubbub of the newsroom as the woman on reception put her through.
‘Delva, it’s Megan. Can you talk without being overheard?’
Delva paused for a moment before replying. ‘No, not really. Hang on a minute…’
Megan waited while she transferred the call to another room. Delva sounded out of breath when she picked up the phone.
‘Sorry about that. I had to put it through t
o one of the editing suites – it’s the only place I know I won’t be disturbed. What’s happened?’
‘Detective Superintendent Leverton wants to talk to you about the letters but it’s important that nobody at BTV knows the police are involved. When will you be home?’
‘I don’t finish until 10.45 tonight, but I might be able to nip out for half an hour after the teatime news.’
‘So what time would you get home – about 7.30?’
Megan looked across at Leverton, who nodded.
‘Yes. Is that okay?’ The relief in Delva’s voice was obvious. Poor thing, Megan thought. It’s taken something of this magnitude to get the police to take her seriously. Before she could reply, Delva spoke again. ‘Megan, there’s something else. I was about to phone you.’
‘Not another photo?’ Megan exchanged glances with Leverton.
‘No, it’s a letter. He wants to meet me.’
‘What!’
Delva’s voice was shaking again as she spoke. ‘He’s asking me to meet him at a wine bar in town tomorrow night.’
Leverton was looking quizzically at Megan and she scribbled the gist of what Delva had said on his notepad while continuing the conversation. ‘Don’t worry, Delva. Just bring the letter home with you tonight and the police will work out how to handle it, okay?’
‘Well, what do you make of that?’ Leverton said as Megan put down the phone.
Megan tried to think, but there were too many possibilities. ‘I don’t know. It’s got to be some kind of trick. I mean, surely he’s not stupid enough to actually turn up?’
‘I should say the odds are against it. If he was an out-and-out nutter, I’d be pretty optimistic. But this guy’s not your run-of-the-mill loony, is he? The kind of bloke who goes to all the trouble of keeping his paws off those letters and photos isn’t going to blow it by appearing in public.’
Megan held Leverton’s gaze for a split second, wondering what sort of image of the killer was forming in his mind.
‘Martin,’ she said slowly, ‘there’s something I need to ask you before we go any further.’
‘What is it?’ He settled back in his chair.
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