Unquiet Souls: a DI Gus McGuire case

by Mistry, Liz

  He turned back to Alice. ‘Tell them to get one of the local PCs to have a look for Jessie in the woods and I’ll head over to Ilkley with Sadia in a bit. Should touch base with them anyway. I want to show Beth the photos of Gogs Redwood and the prison warden Felix Broadfoot to see if she ever came across either of them.’

  He turned to Compo. ‘Anything from the video email?’

  Compo laid down his bacon butty, sucked ketchup from his fingers and pressed a few keys. ‘This is the best I can get it. I’ll put it on the whiteboard so we can all see.’

  They sat down and watched the screen. ‘Don’t forget we’re looking for clues to where this building is. What sort of building it is, anything at all that gives us a clue, ok?’

  Compo slowed the footage right down so they could focus scene by scene. ‘The beginning bit of the video, with whoever’s doing the filming being all over the place, shows us the ceiling. I think it’s a warehouse with that sort of high ceiling and breeze-block walls.’

  Alice pointed. ‘Look, the walls are all stained brown as if the pipes have leaked and the paint’s flaking. I reckon it’s old warehouses.’

  ‘Could be a mill,’ said Sampson, ‘there are a lot of them in Bradford and some of them are disused.’

  ‘Get warehouses and mills checked out, say, within a ten-mile radius of that area you pinpointed yesterday, for starters,’ said Gus, ‘but hold on a second to see if we can get any other clues from the footage.’

  ‘The next bit was very focussed on Molly and the bloke in the Scream mask. I’ve tried to focus in on him where I can, but I’ve not found much as the overall covers his clothes. He’s wearing gloves, so we can’t even be one hundred per cent sure of his race. He’s pretty average build. There’s a flash of a necklace. Gold, I think, but that’s the best image I can get.’ They focussed on the slight flash of gold that protruded under the mask. He’s wearing a watch. You can see its shape under the gloves but no chance of IDing the make or owt. And of course his voice is distorted, although I’ve sent it to the voice people to see if they can clean it up or hear any other identifiable background sounds.’

  Compo fast forwarded the recording till just after the Scream man cut Molly’s hair. ‘When he starts to dance around, after the hair thing, whoever’s recording moves with him and focuses in so we get quite a good view of this.’ He pressed a button and an enlarged image of a huge window with the Scream man framed in front of it flicked onto the screen.

  ‘It’s iced over, so it must be freezing in there, but someone’s obviously cleared a bit of the ice off because you can just about see out the window. Looks like it’s quite high up, but when you focus into the distance you can see this. It’s some sort of structure in the distance, but it’s too hazy to be clear what it is. But, what’s also interesting is what you can’t see. There doesn’t appear to be any houses or buildings in the foreground. Any idea what it is?’

  Compo moved the frame in and out for them, but nobody could identify it.

  ‘Never mind, when we get a list of possible buildings it might help narrow down the list a bit.’ Gus slapped Compo on the back and continued. ‘Listen up. Watch that film again and again, when you’ve got a spare minute, ok? You might be lucky and just catch something. Compo send it to the Polish officers. Edit it so it only shows the images of the room and ask them to see if any of the children can identify the room or give us any more information on it. Some of them won’t be able to do this, but try. At this stage anything’s worth a shot we need to find out where they are. They may have been held there at some point.’

  Gus’s phone rang at the same time as Alice’s. They exchanged a glance and answered. Then, with a quick look at Sadia, Gus grabbed his jacket and his bag from his chair and headed for the door. ‘Come on, Hussain, you’re driving. They’ve just found Jessie Graham.’

  Chapter 77

  Friday 10:30am, Bradford

  Alice walked into Interview Room Six, the one they used for interviewing children. It was bland but lacked the residual sweaty odour that hung like dirty laundry in the other rooms. A sofa and two padded, supposedly comfy armchairs surrounded a small coffee table and replaced the hard wood tables and functional plastic of the other rooms. In one corner was a cupboard containing anatomically correct dolls, toys and leaflets concerning children’s welfare.

  Alice smiled and extended her hand to the tense mother whose unrealistically long bleached hair fell to her waist in perfect crinkled curls. She perched on the very edge of the sofa, looking as if she was ready to set off at a run if a sudden noise disturbed her. Alice turned to the gangly youth, wearing jeans and a hoodie, who slumped beside his mother. ‘Hi Frankie, good to see you again. Your mum says you’ve got something you want to add to your statement.’

  Frankie grunted and glared at his mother from the depths of his hood. His mother nudged him, smiling apologetically at Alice. ‘Tell her, Frankie. It could be important.’ She turned her head to Alice and shrugged. ‘I never liked that Jamal, you know. Not ever and his mum was nowt but a whore.’

  Frankie rolled his eyes. ‘It’s not Jamal’s fault his mum’s a whore.’

  ‘Don’t you use that word, Frankie Robb.’

  Alice heard Frankie mumble something that to her ears sounded very much like ‘Well you just did.’ And, she had to admit, the lad had a point.

  In an attempt to defuse the building tension, Alice cleared her throat and caught the boy’s gaze as she placed a small recorder on the coffee table before them. ‘I’m going to record this, so I don’t have to take notes while you’re speaking.’ She introduced the people in the room and gave the date and time before leaning back, legs crossed. ‘Go on then. When you’re ready, ok?’

  Frankie glared at his mum. ‘It’s not important, you know.’ His face was screwed up in the insolent look of a teenager, both embarrassed and slightly afraid. Alice had seen the look before and sympathised. It wasn’t easy speaking to the police and it was always worse in the presence of a parent.

  Finally, Frankie sighed and leaned towards the recorder. ‘Jamal told me he did it.’ He leaned back and gazed round the room, as if he’d said all he was going to say.

  Alice waited until she was sure he wasn’t going to expand on his statement. She glanced at Mrs Robb, who was nodding her head vigorously in an ‘I told you so’ manner. Alice cleared her throat again and tried to catch Frankie’s eye. ‘What exactly did Jamal say he did?’

  The boy breathed out an exaggerated nicotine breath and rolled his eyes again.

  Alice wanted to give him a shake and tell him to get on with it, but instead she pasted on a smile and said in a reasonable tone. ‘I know this is all a bit of a hassle for you, but you need to expand on what you just said. What did Jamal say he did?’

  With an exaggerated sigh Frankie rested his elbows on his knees and stared right at Alice. ‘He said, ‘I battered the old bitch to death in the graveyard’, that’s what he said. He said he fuckin’ battered the old cunt to death in Heaton graveyard.’

  ‘Frankie,’ said his mum before Alice had a chance to continue, ‘don’t you dare use that language.’ She smiled apologetically at Alice.

  Frankie scowled. ‘She asked me what he said and I told her. Now you’re telling me off for swearing.’ He huffed a huge sigh and flopped back on his chair.

  Before Mrs Robb spoke again, Alice placed a hand on her arm and shook her head slightly, before speaking to Frankie. ‘When did he tell you this?’

  Frankie sniffed a phlegmy snort and grinned at her. His mother prodded him with one perfectly manicured finger. ‘Stop that! How many times have I told you that’s disgusting? Just stop it.’

  Frankie sneered at his mother and repeated the phlegmy snort before turning back to Alice. ‘That night. The same night he did it. He came straight to my house, he’d swiped a bottle of vodka from One Stop and he told me. Then we got pissed, ok?’ He stood up and stepped towards the door.

  Alice moved between him and the door. ‘Sit
back down Frankie, I’m afraid I’ve not finished with you yet.’

  Hands thrust deep in his pockets, he turned and flung himself back onto the sofa with such force it moved back a foot, making his mother screech as she nearly toppled from her perch on the edge of the seat. ‘Little bastard,’ she said, glaring at him.

  Frankie grinned and with a half-sneer curving his lip looked up at Alice. ‘Come on then, get on with it. I don’t have all day.’

  Alice stared right back at him and then in a stern voice said, ‘you’ve got as long as I need, ok? Unless, of course, you want me to detain you for perverting the course of justice? Which, so you’re clear, would mean throwing you in a cell.’

  ‘Fuck’s sake! Talk about the fucking Nazis.’

  Alice sat down. ‘Just answer my questions and you’ll be done quicker.’

  He nodded.

  ‘Right, I’ll ask again. When exactly did Jamal tell you he’d ‘battered his mother’?’

  ‘That night. I’ve already told you.’

  Alice smiled sweetly. ‘When exactly did he tell you? Was it as soon as you answered the door, or after you’d drunk the vodka?’

  ‘I opened the door, and he was pumped, bouncing up and down on the doorstep. So, I asked him what was up and he said, ‘I’ve done it. I’ve fucking done it, battered the old cunt over the head with a stone in the graveyard and she’s dead.’ Then he pulls the vodka from his pocket, opens it, takes a swig and says ‘Come on mate, we’re celebrating.’’

  ‘Had he been drinking before he knocked on your door?’

  Frankie thought for a second then nodded. ‘Yeah, the bottle was only half full and he was slurring his words an’ all.’

  Chapter 78

  Friday 10:45am

  The ancient pool car had only just begun to warm up as Sadia pulled into Dales Link Way and even from this distance, Gus could see that the news vultures had descended on their carrion. White vans were abandoned at intervals half-off the road, their tyres sunk centimetres deep into the snow, evidencing the length of time they’d been stationed there. The layers of snow on the un-gritted path had been smoothed to ice rink standard by the unprecedented flow of traffic.

  Sadia slowed and looked questioningly at Gus. He gestured for her to pull over to the side. As she slowed, he felt his phone vibrate against his leg. Frowning, he retrieved it and glanced at the number. Shit! Dr Mahmood. A quick glance at his watch told him he was late for his appointment with her. Taking a deep breath, he answered with a gruff ‘Hallo.’

  ‘You do realise that you’re now forty-five minutes late for your appointment?’ She spoke without preamble and her arctic tone made him flinch. He imagined her standing by her desk tapping an impatient finger on her phone.

  Injecting as much regret into his voice as possible, he turned away from Sadia and addressed Dr Mahmood. ‘Look, I’m really sorry, but something came up and I forgot to cancel.’

  Her voice came back at him with all the force of a slapped face. ‘I thought I made it clear. Cancellations are not an option. Be here at 6pm or I will revoke your fitness to work status.’

  Gus began to reply but was met with the distinctive sound of the call being terminated.

  Sadia glanced at him. ‘You ok?’

  Lips set in a grim line, he nodded abruptly and set his phone alarm for 5:15. ‘Just the bloody mind police on the warpath.’ He punched in the Graves’ number and requested immediate access before indicating to Sadia that they should drive on. As they approached the drive, the car was immediately besieged by a flurry of yelping reporters leaning in to take photos.

  Sadia, cursing under her breath, tried to maintain her speed but it was impossible with a pack of determined bloodhounds, baying around the car. Then, as the gate began to open in front of her she accelerated loudly and, with a greater speed than Gus would have risked with the journos in front, moved forwards. Two PCs walked out to push the reporters back, allowing the first gates to close behind them before the second set gave them access.

  Instead of entering the house, they were directed round the side and followed the constable who guided them towards the large gate at the back that led into the woods.

  ‘SOCOs are already there, sir. Just walk straight ahead a couple of hundred yards and you’ll see the cordon.’

  Gus nodded his thanks and, wishing he’d brought a heavier coat, pulled his collar up to his ears and braced the blizzard that swirled around them. Before he reached the scene, he heard his father’s Scottish brogue reverberate through the trees and groaned. He’d hoped to avoid his father’s parental concern since he’d moved back into his own home, but now he had no choice. He knew his dad would make a complete mental inventory of Gus’s appearance to report back to his mum and would, undoubtedly, also comment loudly on anything that popped into his mind. Gus could only hope that he’d refrain from embarrassing him completely.

  Signing into the scene, they suited up. Gus, feeling like an abominable snowman in light of the frigid conditions and driving snow, walked over the markers left by the SOCOs. Within a few seconds they found themselves in a clearing where a white tent had been erected. He opened the front flap and poked his head through. ‘Alright to come in?’

  His father’s huge frame turned towards him and his voice rumbled like thunder. ‘Well hallo, Gus laddie. Nice to see you. Wish the circumstances were better though. Such a shame, such a shame.’

  The head SOCO waved them into the tent and, after donning their forensic suits, Gus moved over to his father. Down on one knee, his arm resting on the other, Dr McGuire looked like a huge, artistically positioned yeti. Clad from head to toe in a forensic suit, with his head tilted towards the body, he was completely white. It was only when he turned back to Gus that his spherical, ruddy face broke that illusion. ‘Couldn’t have happened very long ago. Gunshot wound to the side of the head, blood spatter in the snow and,’ he pointed to the other side of the tent, ‘indents in the snow indicating someone walked off that way. Unfortunately, the snow’s filled most of the prints, so not sure how much use they’ll be.’ He turned back to Jessie Graham. ‘I’d say death was instantaneous.’

  Gus, hands thrust deep in his pockets, looked down at Jessie, feeling sad that she’d been caught up in this and hoping she’d had the chance to make up with her daughter-in-law before she died. He stepped onto a tread that took him nearer to the snow-filled footsteps. One of the SOCOs knelt before the footmarks with a little brush in her hand. She glanced up as Gus approached. ‘We might be lucky here. There might be a print in the ice under the fresh snow.’

  Thrusting his good hand in his pocket and trying to ignore the insidious cold that penetrated the flimsy nitrile glove he’d managed to pull over his bad hand he inclined his head in acknowledgement. Another SOCO approached, holding a plastic bag containing a single sheet of paper. ‘This was thrown on top of the body.’

  Gus took the bag and read the words on the paper. Again they looked to be written in a child’s hand. ‘You’ve got email!’ read Gus. Eyes narrowed, he handed the bag to Sadia. ‘The bastard’s playing with us.’

  He thanked the SOCO, laid a hand on his dad’s arm. ‘Text me when you have the PM time and I’ll be there.’

  Gus began to retrace his steps when his dad spoke. Unfortunately, despite his obvious attempts to whisper, his voice seemed to reverberate around the small forensic tent. ‘Are you ok, Angus? I mean…’ Doctor McGuire struggled to a standing position and shuffled his feet. ‘I mean with all this Gabriella stuff.’

  Gus saw Sadia’s curious look and felt his face redden. The last thing he needed was a public dissection of his wife’s sexuality. When he replied his voice sounded strained, even to his ears. ‘Not here, Dad.’

  His dad reached out and placed a hand on Gus’s arm. ‘It’s just your mum,’ he shrugged his huge shoulders, looking like a sad Pierrot marionette, ‘She worries. That’s all.’ His voice lowered, ‘and so do I.’

  His father’s despondent figure pulled at Gus’s
heartstrings and his shoulders relaxed. Of course they were worried. They loved both him and his sister and this thing with Gabriella must be really awkward for them. He patted his father’s arm and grinned. ‘Honestly, Dad, I’m fine. Gabriella and I weren’t getting along anyway. But, I’m not going to pretend that Katie’s betrayal doesn’t hurt, because it does. I just need some time. Tell Mum that. Oh and tell her thanks for the biscuits she dropped off. Compo devoured them.’

  Seeing the relief flood his dad’s face, Gus turned with a wave and indicated that Sadia should follow him. Together they headed back to the house. ‘Looks like we’ve got another video to watch.’

  Chapter 79

  Friday 11:30pm

  Even after only a few days, Gus could see the effects of the strain on Beth. Her cheekbones jutted like razors over deep hollows and tension furrows were etched under each eye. The skin of her forehead stretched paper thin and translucent, like an icy Norwegian fjord, but still she sat erect, expectant almost, in front of the table, her hands clasped tightly before her, with her husband’s arm stretched stiffly across her shoulders. In the tense atmosphere, the kitchen clock continued its bizarrely cheery tick tock, accompanied by the low hum from the fridge.

  Beth’s eyes bore into Gus’s. ‘She’s dead isn’t she?’

  Gus held her gaze and nodded briefly. ‘Yes. Gunshot wound to the head.’

  Beth bit her lip and nodded slowly. She sniffed once and abruptly wiped away a single tear. Gus waited, conscious of her grief and reluctant to cause her any more distress. He knew he’d have to question her, but five minutes would make little difference.

  An angry frown settled on the bridge of her nose. ‘This is all about revenge, isn’t it? Revenge for breaking up their sordid paedophile ring. They’ve waited twelve years and now they want to take everything away from me, just like I took their disgusting money-making perverted business away from them. First Molly and now Jessie. Who’s going to be next? Alex or even my baby?’