The Initial Blow

by Paul Vincent Lee

‘I felt you’d understand, Matt.’ Dornan smiled. Healy smiled back.

  ‘Any particular reason you’re saying this now, Susan.’

  ‘Yes. I’m in love. I think he’s the one but I’m uncertain about bringing up the question of kids. Any views on how I can bring it up without scaring him to death.’

  Healy slowly withdrew his hand. He found it difficult to continue looking at Dornan. His coffee spilled as he tried to lift the cup. He looked again at the tower outside.

  ‘Matt, you OK?’ said Dornan.

  ‘Yeah, sorry. Just got distracted there for a moment. Don’t know really. If the guy loves you then I suppose he’ll be OK about kids. Who is the lucky guy then?’

  ‘Sorry. Can’t really say at the moment. We want everything low key.’

  ‘Right. Suppose we’d better get back now.’

  On the way back to the station Dornan felt she sensed Healy’s disappointment, but she was wrong. Disappointment was not the emotion that was coursing through Matt Healy at that moment.

  ***

  Azrael chose the same restaurant in Buchanan Galleries as the day before. He had gotten a good feeling there. Felt the setting was right. When he had left the previous day he was neither glad nor sad. He waited for the Lord, the Lord showed the way. The restaurant was busy. Shoppers and workers……and whores. A woman entered. Looked around for a seat. Glanced at the empty one opposite Azrael.

  ‘Please, if you’re alone, be my guest. If you’re expecting someone, I’m afraid you’ll have to probably try next door.’

  ‘No, thank you I will. I just felt like a coffee.’

  The woman sat, placed her expensive looking bag on the window ledge beside the table. Azrael listened as the next background song came on; a female voice singing of “listening to the beat and freeing her soul.”

  Lori McTear, the young Glasgow singer who was just coming to public notice; but who Azrael had followed since seeing her perform in a wine bar one evening, was singing a cover of a Dobie Gray song. Azrael pondered....LM....DG. He glanced at the woman’s bag sitting prominently on the window sill, the large gold lettering serving their “look at me, look how wealthy and important I am” purpose well, Dolce and Gabbana, DG.

  He leant over and offered his hand ‘since we’re breaking bread together; my name’s Azrael, and I insist I pay for your coffee. Beautiful women don’t pay in my company.’

  ‘Well, thank you very much. Sandra, Sandra Graham.’

  ***

  Joe Turner had surprised himself. He liked women, loved them, but in recent years he knew himself that he loved drink even more. The afternoon had gone well and when an attractive woman had sat down opposite him at lunch time he had enjoyed “the view” but had thought that would be as far as it would go. He was delighted, therefore, when idle chat had ended up with a dinner date for that evening. He resolved to only have a few drinks; enough to ease his nerves but not enough to encourage “the mist.” He wanted to enjoy the evening but, more importantly, to be able to remember it tomorrow. He put his expectations for the evening to the back of his mind. He had run out of business cards and needed to find a printer.

  ***

  As she sat at her desk looking over the group of detectives gathered there, it seemed to Dornan that everybody in the squad was as unhappy as she was with the “solved” tag on three of the recent murders. She obviously had had to take her lead from McFarlane and the P.F.’s office and close the investigations, acknowledging Colin Banks as the killer. Added to that, Joe Turner was obviously Julie Connor’s killer so she, and Matt Healy, should be satisfied enough with that.

  Her thoughts diverted to Healy. He had made a lame excuse about “wanting to look into something” when they arrived back at the station, and dropped her off. She felt sorry for him in a way; and deeply regretted “getting involved” but she knew she had now found “the one” and she, and Matt Healy, would have to move on.

  Her thoughts returned to the murders. The issue of the Banks’ semen not being present at the two “other” Azrael killings bothered her the most. She accepted that Banks was definitely a complete head case and she had read of people like Jeffrey Dahmer keeping body parts in their fridges, body parts being another Banks speciality, but the notion that Banks had somehow gotten close enough to a variety of women, looking and smelling as he did, was a stretch too far for her. On the other hand she knew desecrating bodies was a Banks speciality and the other clues also hinted of an educated man; including the Azrael calling cards. But they also created another problem. The squad had checked every printer in Glasgow, and had even checked with churches to see if they had any parishioners who had displayed any sort of over the top religious fervour. Nothing. Why were the cards being left anyway? The Profiler had said that it was a common trait of serial killers to taunt the police, to leave clues, daring to be caught. Dornan shook her head to try to clear it. Move on, Susan, move on in every way.

  ***

  Matt Healy hadn’t gone “to look into something” unless you want to call the bottom of a glass something. He sat in his favourite chair in his living room. He didn’t care what his neighbour thought; his stereo blared. Fucking bitch. Leading me on. Just like the rest. Well, fuck her. If she thinks she’s getting away with treating me like that she’s got another think coming. He raised his glass, you were right, mum. Whores the lot of them.

  Jon Bon Jovi screamed about sleeping when he was dead. Matt Healy smiled, poured another Scotch.

  ***

  I smiled when I saw Susan’s name show up on my mobile.

  I answered ‘Perry Mason’s office.’

  ‘Don’t know if even Perry Mason had a client like Colin Banks, Ray.’ Susan replied.

  ‘What’s up, gorgeous?’

  ‘Oh, it’s nothing. Everything is nice and tidily wrapped up here and I know I should be pleased with that. It’s just....’

  ‘I know but listen, darling, one thing I do know about people, crime and everything else is that you can never fathom it all out. Just put the facts together, present them and let someone else decide. You’ve done that, so end of.’

  ‘Do you think Banks is guilty, Ray?’

  ‘I don’t know but I can say that he was a very troubled soul, Susan, very troubled, and he was guilty of some horrendous stuff so...’

  ‘Heard from Joe Turner recently?’

  ‘Yes. I’ve applied to get his passport back, as you no doubt know, but other than that, nothing. Don’t really want to hear from him to be honest.’

  ‘Why? You not friends, as such, anymore?’

  ‘Well, let’s just say it’s awkward.’

  ‘You know he’s guilty, don’t you? Don’t tell me you’re a lawyer with a conscience?’

  ‘Guilt or innocence is irrelevant to a lawyer. Representing your client is all that matters.’

  ‘Ray, you know what you call six dead lawyers at the bottom of a loch, don’t you?’

  ‘No, what?’

  ‘A good start.’

  I heard Susan laugh as she hung up.

  After we hung up I thought about how my life had changed so much in the last few months. Two people I knew had been murdered. My erstwhile friend was now my client accused of one of the murders, another friend now dead being blamed for the other killing and I had, for the first time in my life, found love. I thought about children. Was it too late? Would I be being fair to them? Did Susan even want children? I thought about how my dad maybe felt when I was born. Would he have been keen if he had known what lay ahead, what my mother would do to him? I rarely thought of my mother but, strangely, I thought now about what she would have made of me; how I had turned out. What she would have thought of Susan. I wasn’t sure that I cared either way, though.

  Chapter 19

  Dornan, Healy and McFarlane stared at Sandra Graham. Each experiencing a range of emotions they prayed that would never have to deal with again. Sandra Graham was expressing no emotions at all. She was lying spread-eagled on top of her king-sized bed,
the motif ‘D & G’ apparently branded into her cleavage. Both her nipples had been cut off. They were found a while later by Jack T’Baht, during a search of the murder scene, sitting in a jewellery box in Sandra Graham’s bedroom, efficiently holding a business card, Azrael, upright.

  Susan Dornan felt sick but was concentrating on the scene before her. Matt Healy was also taking in every detail of the scene but anger was his over-riding feeling. McFarlane was in near panic mode in anticipation of the reaction in the press when this latest murder was revealed.

  Healy motioned Dornan downstairs. She followed him through to the conservatory. They had only had the most cursory of exchanges over the previous two days. Dornan knew Healy was hurting but there was nothing she could do about that. She wanted to remain friends, close working colleagues if possible, but the ball was in his court.

  ‘And then there was one’ said Healy.

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Look, Susan. We always knew these murders weren’t down to Banks. McFarlane’s not a cop. He’s a stats keeper. Hundred crimes, hundred charged, no problem. But one thing this murder does show us is that Banks and Harris are both innocent of the Azrael killings. So that leaves one, Joe Turner. I’ve told you all along that it’s him. Jesus, I swear I’m going to nail the bastard.’

  ‘We don’t know that, Matt.’

  ‘I do. Get him in. Phone your boyfriend; tell him we want to speak to Turner.’

  Susan Dornan stared at Healy. ‘How do you know who my boyfriend is?’

  ‘You told me.’

  ‘No, I didn’t. I specifically told you we were keeping it to ourselves for the moment. We wanted this case out of the way.’

  ‘Well, someone told me obviously; I can’t remember who exactly. What’s the big deal, anyway?’

  Dornan wasn’t able to reply before Healy had turned and walked away.

  ***

  Azrael was content. He was sure that he had met his obligations to the Lord. There was no shame now in asking to be relieved of his burden. Jesus himself had asked to be released of his. ‘But thy will be done, Lord. Thy will be done.’ He wondered what direction his life would take now. He turned his head, pushed further down into the softness of the pillow, closed his eyes and slept.

  ***

  I was pleased but slightly surprised to be getting a call from Susan early in the morning.

  ‘Good news and bad news, Ray.’ Susan said.

  ‘OK, what’s the good news?’

  ‘Colin Banks isn’t Azrael. There’s been another murder. Harris is ruled out as well, obviously.’

  ‘Well I suppose that’s good news of a sort. What’s the bad news?’

  ‘We need to speak to Joe again, Ray.’

  ‘What for?’

  ‘We’ll talk about that when you come in. I’m assuming you’ll want to be there, so can you organise his appearance?’

  ‘I’ll phone him and call you once I’ve arranged something.’

  ‘OK. Ray, have you told anyone about us. Anyone at all?’

  ‘No, why?’

  ‘Oh nothing. Just something someone said.’

  Susan’s call had worried me. I knew Healy had a thing about Joe Turner’s guilt in the Kate Turner killing; and had put together a pretty watertight case against him in the Julie Connor killing. Now that Banks and Harris were out of the picture for the Azrael killings at least, they were maybe taking another look at Joe for killing his wife. The trouble with that was that I had my doubts about Joe’s innocence there myself and, by revealing that Joe was in Glasgow at the time of the murder, I hadn’t helped my client’s case at all.

  My phone call had obviously woken Joe up. ‘Joe, its Ray, how are you?’

  ‘Yeah. OK, but bored out my tits. Any word about my passport?’

  ‘Afraid not, Joe. Listen, the police have been in touch. They want to have a chat with you.’

  ‘A chat? Yeah right. What about?’

  ‘They wouldn’t say. Listen, Joe, if you’d rather use another lawyer for this, then that’s OK.’

  ‘Nah, better the devil you know, Ray. How about meeting me at the police station tomorrow at, say, eleven o’clock? Couldn’t face it today.’

  ‘OK, see you then.’

  Once he had hung up, Joe Turner reached for the bottle of Irn Bru beside his bed. Despite his best intentions he had gotten completely legless on his date. She had liked a drink as well which hadn’t exactly acted as a restraint on him and when, at the end of the night, she had let it be known she had plenty to drink back at her house, Mount Florida, or something like that, then the rest of the night had just seemed to merge into a fog of drunkenness and naked limbs. He put the bottle back down and noticed a fresh red burn mark on the side of his hand.

  Toasted cheese at five in the morning or whenever is never a good idea when you’re rat arsed.

  He lay back and smiled; he couldn’t even remember making it.

  ***

  Susan Dornan was pensive as she sat in her office. Whilst fully focused on the cases in hand, her thoughts kept returning to Matt Healy. Her suspicions, surely I’m being paranoid, troubled her. She could accept his disappointment, his slight antagonism even, but she could not accept that a deeper, darker side to Healy was coming into play. She shook herself into refocusing on the job at hand and called Jill French into her office.

  ‘Any thoughts, Jill?’

  ‘The initials, you mean?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Well, they’re obviously a factor but I can’t see any connection between DG and the victim’s name. She was a divorcee but her maiden name was Munro so.....’

  ‘You felt before that the initials were a trigger, didn’t you? Could it be that the “inspiration” for Azrael was linking the initials of his inspiration to his victims own initials at first but that, in fact, the initials could link killer and victim in any number of ways?’

  ‘How?’

  ‘Oh God, Jill, I don’t know. I’m just fishing. You know trying to come up with something that might help us; anything.’

  ‘I took a note of the books in the victim’s house, the author’s initials; and the CD’s but couldn’t see a link to DG.’

  ‘Don’t suppose there was anything to go on with the card?’

  ‘No, nothing. I can’t figure out why he doesn’t leave them in a more prominent place; easier to see if he’s “boasting” about his latest move. Anyway, I spoke to the profiler this morning, asked about the apparent increase in violence, you know the nipples etc., and he said it’s a sign he’s getting more relaxed in his belief about not getting caught but at the same time the increase in the “frenzy” of the attack means he is getting more out of control, more dangerous. If that’s possible, that is.’

  ‘OK, Jill, thanks. Keep plugging away. Send Jack in, will you?’

  ‘Will do.’

  Susan’s dislike for Jack T’Baht had not lessened over the previous few weeks. She couldn’t exactly pinpoint what it was she didn’t like about him; just an uneasy feeling she had when around him.

  ‘Jack, what are you working on?’

  ‘Trying to trace the victim’s last known movements, Ma’am.’

  ‘OK, good. Jack, don’t be disheartened about Banks not proving to be the killer. It was good thinking on your part.’

  ‘I’m not. Is that all, Ma’am?’

  ‘Yes.’

  That’s what I mean right there, arrogant sod. He’s off this team first chance I get.

  The only other officer present was Rab Brown. Brown had mostly been involved in the administration side of the investigations; the mountains of paperwork and computer data generated. Dornan considered calling him in but Brown was so reserved, introverted, that she sometimes avoided speaking to him because she felt that she spooked him when she did. Maybe it’s a “dealing with a woman superior thing.” However, as she was swithering whether to call him in, Brown pre-empted the invite by rising up and coming over to Dornan’s office.

  ‘C
an I have a private word, Ma’am?’

  ‘Of course, Rab. Come in. Sit down.’

  Brown entered the room, turned and slowly and deliberately closed the door, double checking it was firmly shut. Holiday request coming up, maybe even a transfer thought Dornan.

  ‘Ma’am, it’s about these killings. Something is bothering me.’ Brown was so nervous Dornan thought he was going to have a seizure.

  ‘Just one thing?’ Dornan tried to lighten the atmosphere.

  ‘It’s about the cards.’

  ‘What about them?’

  ‘Well, I think I’m right in saying that, despite a thorough search at the time, the Azrael card wasn’t found at the Turner killing till a couple of days later when it was collected up with quite a load of other stuff.’

  ‘Yes, that’s true but.....’

  ‘Then, no card was found at the second killing, Julie Connor, but we do think these two murders could be linked as both victims knew each other.’

  ‘Right, but....’

  ‘And at the next two, now three, killings the cards weren’t found straight way; always at some point during the searching of the various locations.’

  ‘Rab, what are you trying to get at here?’

  ‘Well, it’s just that we’re trying to find a link in all the killings, Joe Turner being favourite if we can establish his presence at them all somehow. But he’s not the only potential link and we can verify a presence at all the scenes.’

  ‘Who?’ Dornan was staring at Brown now, desperately hoping he wasn’t about to say what she suspected he was.