Knife and Death: A killer seeks revenge. A friend brutally murdered. A woman runs for her life. (DCI James Hardy Book 1)

by J. A. Gill

  I closed the door behind me and the house felt quiet and empty. I could still hear the laughter of the women ringing in my ears and it felt good. It brought back memories. Happy memories. I grabbed a cold bottle of beer from the fridge and checked my watch. Rayner would be here soon. I took the opportunity to check on the girls before he arrived. They were fine. Fast asleep. They'd crawled into bed together as they often did. How there was enough room in the bed for the two of them with all Faith's soft toys piled in as well I wasn't sure, but they managed it.

  I went back downstairs in time to come face to face with Rayner who was at the back door holding up a case of beer and an arm full of reports. Here's my date for the night!

  Sixty-Five

  I groped about in the darkness and found my phone. 'Hullo?' I said, trying to sound awake.

  A voice that sounded way too perky for this time of day asked for me. 'Is that you Hardy?'

  'Who is this?' I asked. I must have sounded angry.

  'Sorry to call you so early, but this just couldn't wait. Not one moment longer. I'm so pleased you and your family are back, I been waiting very patiently.'

  My head was still foggy as I sat up and turned on the bedside light. 'Who is this?'

  'Very kind of you to ask, it's me, I thought perhaps we might pray together. In light of recent events.'

  'Baker?' My eyes widened.

  'Just like that. You are as sharp as they say. I feel so blessed, of all the detectives at Scotland Yard I got you. The Yard's brightest. Now enough of that. I am going to keep this short and sweet because we are both busy, busy boys with so many commitments to keep.'

  I interrupted in an effort to avoid Baker taking control of the situation. 'How about you and I meet. There's a lot we can talk about. You can share what's on your mind and I can give you my full attention.'

  'Well that's rather rude, I'm hoping you'll give me your full attention right now.'

  I pressed back. 'Why not give me some time to wake up and we'll meet somewhere with great coffee.'

  'That is rather clumsy of you detective. But I am in a very forgiving mood as I have been working through my list and I'm feeling rather chipper. There's a word that isn't used often enough these days: Chi-pperrr! Redemption is so rewarding. It does take a little work mind you. You definitely get out what you put in. Now I really would rather you didn't interrupt me as this is an important day and there is lot we have to get done. Both of us. There are people who will be relying on you being the superhero 'Hardyman' today. I've decided to head to a favourite retreat for a while, but don't worry I'll be back once I've had a little R&R.'

  It was a risk but I needed to try to get this conversation back on my terms. 'Why?' I asked.

  There was silence from Baker.

  'Why?' I repeated. 'Why are you murdering innocent people like some mindless psychopath?'

  More silence. I could hear his breathing become heavier and more rapid. 'I am not insane you know. You can't force me to feel remorseful with your petty insults. Please don't pretend you don't understand why I am punishing them. And you certainly aren't going to spoil our little game today.'

  'Perhaps, you think you're some sort of god made flesh who can hand down his own form of justice. You're nothing but a pathetic little man who murders, in a cowardly way, unsuspecting and innocent people.' I hung up the phone before he could reply. I felt confident he'd call back. He'd called me for a reason and I hadn't given him a chance yet to give me that reason. His ego meant he had to call back. Baker needed an audience, he needed me to be a part of his game. He would call back. He needed recognition and maybe some understanding of what he wanted to achieve. In his fantasies, I'm sure he imagined I understood his reasoning and felt sympathy for his cause. I grabbed my clothes and put them on, all the time looking at the phone. I bet he's really confused now. This conversation wasn't what he had imagined. He will have prepared this conversation in his head. Gone over it, time and time again. Probably imagined me a little in awe of his ruthlessness and the way he meted out justice. I slipped on my shoes, the phone rang as I began to tie the laces. I finished the second bow and answered the phone.

  'You interrupted me again. That is very, very rude. Do that again and I will ensure the next on my list suffers more than all the others combined. And I will tell them and their family why. Then I will come after your little princesses. See, now you've turned me into a monster on our special day. Let's begin again, shall we?'

  Baker loved the sound of his own voice and I was wondering whether this was all an act or whether he really was this delusional. Without waiting for my reply Baker continued.

  'Now that little charade is over I want us to be honest with each other. I'll start.

  At first, this was about pay back. As time has gone on I realised that this role I have is so much more than that. There are so many nuances to what I am a part of. It took me a while to understand but once I took the time to stand back I could see the big picture. I realised then just how remarkable the whole thing is. It's almost like there is an industry relying on murder. You know what I mean right? There's you, me, the press, the whole legal system, prisons and parole boards. So many people rely on what we do. There's the research, the tools needed to fulfil our roles and on and on. So many people are relying on me and you.

  Eventually of course, Simon Baker will soon be a brand name. Like Ted Bundy, Jack the Ripper etc. So I've decided once I have completed my current list that I will write a new list. And I wanted you to be the first to know. It's true I stumbled on this path. I'll admit, I can't take credit for that. But we never know the intended path of our lives. It finds us.'

  I let Baker talk. All this was being recorded on my phone and though I wouldn't be able to necessarily locate him, the information for psychological analysis would be valuable. And while he was talking, he wasn't killing. Perhaps I could also build some trust and get something out of him to help me track him down. 'You know those men you mentioned, Ted Bundy, Jack the Ripper?' I said. 'They couldn't stop. As you said, you're not insane. You can stop. How remarkable would that be. That would be really something. You could be unique in the way that you chose to stop. There really is a story. The story of how serial killer Simon Baker handed himself in. Imagine the press coverage that would generate.'

  Baker sniffed. 'Enough. I thought you'd be a better listener. I thought you'd hear me. I thought you'd understand. You're supposed to be something special. They told me I was lucky I had you. They are wrong. You're not special. You're clumsy. The Mentor told me I had to watch out for you. That you had a unique understanding. But you don't. Enough. I've had enough.' Baker went quiet again. I could hear his rapid breathing; hear him seething; is anger and exasperation. I was getting to him.

  'The Mentor?' I asked. 'Whose that? And who did you mean by they?' The line went dead. Baker was gone. This was still Baker's game we were playing but at least I now had a better understanding of his rules. He wasn't fulfilling his sick fantasies alone. A few seconds later a text message came through on my phone. Baker hadn't finished with me just yet.

  Sixty-Six

  The text message from Baker made me go cold. It was short and sinister:

  GO C MY MOTHER. LEFT U A GIFT - WIFE'S BITCH LAWYER. HURRY. EXPIRES SOON. BYE 4 NOW XXX

  Was this a trap I wondered? Had Baker become more sophisticated? Perhaps he'd developed a taste for traps. Encouraged maybe, and emboldened by his psycho friends or The Mentor. I felt sure he was angry. His coolness from the meeting at the school quickly evaporated once he felt off balance. On the phone he'd made mistakes, given me too much. That will have sent off all sort of emotions in his head. He'd betrayed their trust by mentioning them. His superiority will temporarily feel diminished having made mistakes. I'd seen it before in other cases. It won't last long. He'll adapt and learn, just like with anything we are driven to do. And he's driven. He now has a taste for what he's doing, he said as much by admitting he was writing a new list of targets. He won't stop unless I
stop him. Today he wanted to play a new game. The game today had probably been planned for weeks, maybe even months and his phone call this morning was to make sure I was on-board.

  I called the Yard and spoke to Rayner who arrived at Baker's home a few minutes after me. We both chose to wear Kevlar as we headed to the front of 232 Crescent Drive. We checked our weapons in silence. The Chief was right, under these circumstances I certainly felt more comfortable with the decision to carry a firearm. Only Baker knew what was waiting for us inside and that filled me with dread. My firearm meant the odds were a little more evenly balanced.

  'You need to make some new friends,' said Rayner as we approached the front door. 'Serial killers will never want to simply hang out with you, drink beer and watch the Cup Final you know.' Rayner wise cracking meant he was on edge. We both were. His eyes told me he knew as well as I did we could be walking into a trap. His body language also told me I wouldn't have a cat in hell's chance of stopping him going into the house with me. If there was any chance at all of saving a life, Rayner was going in. Rayner knew the same went for me.

  I checked the front window but couldn't see inside. 'I'll go round back,' said Rayner. 'Give me the count of 20.' I nodded and watched him disappear down the side of the house.

  '...7, 8, 9, 10,' I counted to myself. 17, 18, 19, 20. I knocked on the front door and called out: 'Police. This is the Police.' I knocked again, louder. Nothing. I hammered my fist and rang the doorbell and called out again. Nothing. Then the door chain rattle and the lock clicked. I stepped back. The door opened. It was Rayner.

  'The back of the house is all open,' said Rayner. Neither of us knew whether that was a good thing or a bad thing. Rayner headed back through the house to the kitchen. I stood in the hallway for a moment and simply listened. The house was quiet. Rayner and I made eye contact and I indicated I was headed to the front room on my right. I pushed open the door and caught the strong smell of cigarette smoke. I turned into the 1970's style front room. Beside the bay window was and old woman in a chair. Cigarette packets were piled high on the table beside her and boxes were scattered at her feet. Her head was back and a plastic bag covered her head. I removed the bag but the old lady was ice cold and had no pulse. His own mother was now another name on Baker's list. What was going through Simon Baker's head? What did he want? I felt numb and listened as Rayner called for an ambulance.

  Upstairs I heard scratching, a rapid, repetitive scratching. We made our way up the set of stairs to the second floor. I covered him as Rayner went first. The scratching was getting louder. The scratching would last a few seconds then stop. Then start again. At the top of the stairs were five doors. The second door on the right was where the scratching was coming from. We both had our guns raised and approached with caution. The room sounded silent, then scratching started again. My heart was pounding. I raised my weapon, I was ready to fire if necessary. Rayner grabbed the door handle and in one quick smooth motion swung open the door. There in the dark stood a small dog, a Pug. He looked at the two of us for a moment with huge glossy black eyes. Gave short sharp bark, then ran between us and disappeared down the stairs.

  'We'll question him later,' said Rayner trying to relieve the tension. Right now, I was in no mood for wise cracks, I felt sure this wasn't over. Baker was sending me a message, my fear was that his message would be grotesque and bloody. Baker was upping his game and he wanted me to know it. We moved to the next room which was the bathroom. The bathroom was dark and empty, I felt a mixture of anxiety and relief. The next room was a small bedroom. Again nothing. The next room a smaller room and appeared to have been used as an office but was now almost empty, no computer and only bare shelves and an empty filing cabinet. The final room was locked. The key was missing. I knew from the sick feeling in my stomach that the gift promised from Simon Baker was behind this door. Rayner took position to cover me. I took a step back and threw my shoulder at the door. The room burst into view with all its horrifying glory.

  Sixty-Seven

  In all honesty, I wasn't prepared for what we encountered next. No furniture, no decoration, just bare walls and floorboards. The room was empty. Empty except for the woman hanging by her arms and neck. Suspended in mid air. She looked like she was being crucified on an invisible cross. Instead of a crucifix to hold her, a noose came down from the ceiling and was biting into her neck. Ropes fastened to each wall held her arms outstretched. Her ankles were bound and her feet were resting on a box. Her head was flopped forward and her long hair covered her face. There were streaks of blood on her chest, stomach and legs. I holstered my gun and ran forward. Outside sirens wailed, officers and paramedics were arriving yet my world at that moment had shrunk to what was right in front of me. I grabbed her and held her while Rayner cut the ropes. Once on the floor I gently swept aside her hair and checked for a pulse. I didn't need to, she opened her eyes and began coughing and shaking violently, pushing me away and making an awful animal-like stifled moan. Her mouth, chin and neck were caked in dried blood. Her scared eyes stared at me.

  'She's alive,' I called over my shoulder to Rayner. 'She's alive. Get a paramedic, now!'

  She went quiet and calm. 'You're going to be fine, you're safe. I'm a police officer, we're police officers. Paramedics are on their way. It's over now. You've been so brave. It's all over, you're safe. I promise. You're going to be okay. Can you tell me your name?' She didn't speak, she put a hand to her mouth and sobbed hysterically. Rayner returned with a duvet and we covered her. She felt so small in my arms and I continued to hold her trembling body. 'Paramedics are coming, they're coming up the stairs, they'll be here any second.'

  Rayner was agitated and angry, he paced the room looking at the small ornate box the woman had been standing on. He walked around it, knelt down beside it, got back up and began pacing again. I had known what was inside long before Rayner told me. I looked sympathetically into her eyes. Her body was spasming and periodically she rocked from side to side in my arms. Her howls of anguish and sorrow went right through me but I held her and did my best to comfort her.

  Paramedics moved quickly to stablise the woman whose belongings had now been found and identified her as Lucy-Ann Chandler. A popular and outspoken radio and television arts critic. She like the other victims had been deceived, shocked and outraged when they heard of Simon Baker's deception and treatment of his talented wife. I watched as the Paramedics lifted the scared fifty seven year old Lucy-Ann into the back of the ambulance. I looked across the street to the house where Rayner was briefing the forensics team. He and I have known each other for a long time and he knew what I was thinking. Neither of us needed to say anything.

  Rayner took charge of the crime scene and I watched as he co-ordinated the teams. Everyone was keen to do their part in an effort to put an end to Baker's madness. I needed to escape, Baker was getting to my head. I needed space to take stock. In a split second decision, I climbed into the back of the ambulance. In that moment, I needed to feel like I was being of help and if that meant nothing more than comforting this terrified woman then so be it.

  I sat with Lucy-Ann until early evening. She was sedated to help with the shock and her pain. She drifted in and out of consciousness throughout the day. Her stillness gave me time to think and seeing her injuries gave me further impetus, if any were needed, to stop Baker once and for all.

  Throughout the day faces from the forensic and fingerprint team came and went, they needed samples for comparison. Her husband and grown up sons were on their way and would arrive around midnight, they were driving the four hundred plus miles from Edinburgh. They'd want answers and I'd have questions but not right away, first they'd need time as a family to heal and cry and comfort one another.

  She was sleeping and I doubt she heard me but I whispered to Lucy-Ann I was leaving for a while and that I'd be back soon. I was of the opinion that Baker's plan was to inflict pain and humiliation on Lucy-Ann, if he'd wanted her dead he'd have done it. So even though I didn't anticipat
e any further threat from Baker I decided to station an officer outside her hospital room.

  I sat in my car in the hospital car park and called Rayner. He hadn't calmed down that much, if at all. 'He cut out her tongue, he cut out her tongue and put it in the box then made her stand on it. What sort of monster does that? I have never wanted anyone so bad, we have to catch this prick, whatever it takes. Whatever it takes.'

  'What did the note say?' I asked.

  'How did you know there was note?'

  I ignored the question and Rayner repeated the note's message: Your mother should have told you to watch your tongue. Well now you can.

  We talked for an hour or so and then he told me to get home and get some rest. He insisted there was nothing that couldn't wait until after a good night's sleep. I drove out of the car park but I couldn't go home, something was eating away at me, I was missing something. So instead of turning left out of the carpark I turned right and headed back to Scotland Yard.

  Fuelled by coffee, I spent the night re-examining the case notes, re-reading reports, listening to recordings, comparing photographs and going over Baker's family history. I listened over and over to his call to me. I needed to understand Baker better than I did. I needed to understand who he really was, why he was doing what he was doing. Baker had been one step ahead of me at every stage, if I wanted to catch this man I need to know his next move and that meant knowing more about how he thinks. I had come to the decision over the course of the last few days that the fraud case and the imprisonment of his wife was only a small part of a bigger picture. I was now convinced that if I began to dig deep enough I'd discover what was really driving Baker to act out his horrific fantasies. Why take the risk of punishing the victims so dramatically? These crimes had to be more than simple revenge. These acts of revenge were elaborate and unnecessarily staged, he was making statements. I needed to figure out why he took the time and risk. If I wanted to figure out where he was going next, I need to figure where he'd been and who the real Simon Baker was.