The Death Messenger

by Mari Hannah

  Ryan summarized: ‘Over and above the fact that two of our victims operated in the public eye, we have nothing of evidential value. The important thing – apart from the list of actions Eloise issued – is the mysterious couple who made off with Trevathan’s briefcase. His chambers deny they were responsible for retrieving it. If that’s true, they’ll be doing their utmost to find it.’

  22

  O’Neil didn’t believe that the briefcase was in the hands of the Home Office and no one disagreed with her. Grace guessed that it might be with MI5, but it didn’t sound like it to Ryan. It wasn’t their style to use super-sleek, shiny vehicles in pristine condition. They preferred toned-down cars, the better to blend in. There was nothing covert about the grey Mercedes the couple had been driving; Mrs Forbes remembered everything about it. She’d given a good description of the woman too: film-star looks, high heels, distinctive red coat. MI5 operatives were usually nondescript, regular height, regular everything, nothing about their appearance that your average punter would remember. They certainly didn’t wear expensive gear that screamed at you. Unless, as Newman was quick to point out, that was the impression they were trying to give, in which case the opposite was true.

  ‘We’ll bear that in mind as we move forward,’ O’Neil said. ‘So what we have is two high-profile deaths, both male, one nurse we think happened on the crime scene at the wrong moment (James Fraser may have seen the offenders we’re seeking), and two missing victims from crime scenes in Brighton and North Shields, the local one is female.’ She glanced at Ryan. ‘Any update from the Family Liaison Officer?’

  ‘Not yet.’

  ‘When we’re done, call and ask for one. Mrs Fraser may need our protection. Potentially she’s the only living UK witness.’

  ‘Unless our offenders are the man and woman who took the briefcase, in which case Trevathan’s housekeeper also needs protection,’ said Ryan.

  O’Neil took a deep breath, frustrated by a case that was growing in complexity. ‘Our priority – and this is where you come in, Grace – is to establish links between the British Ambassador to Denmark . . .’ She glanced at Newman. ‘Help me out here, Frank. I don’t recall his name.’

  ‘Paul Dean,’ he said.

  ‘Thank you. Grace, everything you can dig up on him and Trevathan, quick as you can. Frank, you’re on the trial Trevathan was due to preside over. Ryan and I will be feet on the ground. As I said before, I’ll try a direct approach to Ford, but I’m not confident. He’s been less than cooperative so far. We’re not just being paranoid either. He’s been found out for withholding information. That said, the trial might have nothing whatsoever to do with our investigation, but without more intelligence we have no way of determining possible connections between the victims and the trial.’ O’Neil took a short breather, checking the briefing sheet she’d prepared earlier, then added: ‘Frank, you’re more informed than we are. Use your contacts in whatever way you can. And just so we’re clear, I do not want to know how you come by information. Get me what you can and I’ll square it my end. Anything you think is relevant, feed it to Grace. Grace, you do nothing with it until I say so.’

  Ryan caught Grace’s eye across the room. She was excited to be on board, couldn’t wait to get stuck in. There were three or four legs of the enquiry, each one as important as the next. Her role was making witness and evidence connections, finding similarities, overseeing satellite rooms, acting as researcher, receiver and office manager all rolled into one. She’d love that. Nothing fired her jets like running a major incident room. Retirement really had disappointed her. Cut adrift from the police force, she’d struggled to find her way. Ryan suspected the same was true of Newman. There was only so much fishing and sailing you could do if you were born to investigate criminal activity.

  Ryan couldn’t imagine life beyond the end of his career. ‘Some of Frank’s intel may be politically charged,’ he said. ‘We can’t share it, except with each other.’

  ‘I feel like a spook already,’ Grace said.

  O’Neil flashed a worried look at Ryan. He threw her a reassuring smile in return. Even though their employers weren’t playing it straight, it was difficult for her to accept that they might have to use underhand methods to get at the truth. Coming from Professional Standards, that kind of subterfuge didn’t sit well with her.

  Time to show solidarity.

  Ryan eyeballed the newlyweds. ‘Eloise and I are coppers,’ he said. ‘We have to be careful. If things go tits-up, you’re not the ones whose necks will be on the line. Ford is a nasty piece of work. He wants answers. If he doesn’t get them – or we go too far – he’ll take great pleasure in relieving us of our warrant cards.’

  ‘And he’ll do the same if you don’t go far enough,’ Newman reminded him.

  ‘We still have rules and regulations to consider.’

  There was an awkward moment.

  O’Neil took the pressure off Ryan. ‘We’ll have a briefing at the end of each day, if not here, then remotely. Any questions?’

  Grace glanced at her own briefing sheet, all but one item ticked off. She held it up, a flicker of discord on her face. ‘This mentions a voice-recognition expert.’

  ‘Already in the system,’ O’Neil said. ‘I should have mentioned it.’

  As sure as he was of his own date of birth, Ryan had known Grace would bring the matter up. She’d identified the single most important aspect of the case. Ordinarily, their job was about observation. Without sight of Spielberg, they were screwed. It was impossible to form impressions, let alone make judgements, without body language, posture and gestures to go on. Her voice might prove to be their not-so-silent witness. Technology had moved on apace in recent years. Computer programmes could ascertain far more than dialect from the way a person spoke. Clever software was used extensively to detect emotional stress, excitement or confusion in speech patterns, exposing benefit and insurance fraud around the world. It helped law enforcement and criminal intelligence agencies track down the conmen and women who wanted something for nothing.

  The discussion was about to turn ugly.

  Newman sensed it too.

  Both men knew where Grace was heading.

  ‘The woman taunting us is cold and calculating,’ Grace said. ‘You can’t wait until she kills someone else before you get an opinion on this. We all think it’s the same voice. You know as well as I do how long it will take to organize a full profile. We haven’t the luxury of time. Ryan? We have someone trustworthy in mind, right?’

  O’Neil was way ahead of her. ‘That’s not going to happen.’

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘Because it’s highly irregular—’

  ‘And I’m not?’ Grace huffed. ‘Cut the crap, Eloise. You have the opportunity to go to someone with an ear for these things. Ryan’s twin is cheap, discreet and, more to the point, available. She’s also been vetted by the CPS, who, in case you didn’t know, employ her these days. What’s not to like?’ Grace was using her eyes to smile and beg at the same time. ‘C’mon! Caroline is as good on voices as I’ve ever come across in thirty years’ policing. It would be a mistake not to use her.’

  ‘In your opinion,’ O’Neil said.

  She was calm but forceful. Still, Ryan felt the need to step in between the two women. Pushed too hard, O’Neil would never go for it. Grace wasn’t helping. When she had something to say, diplomacy went out the window. There was no way she was backing down. Right now, she was searching his face, waiting for support, determined to get her point across.

  The pit bull needed taming.

  ‘Excuse her bluntness,’ Ryan said. ‘She’s a civilian now with no respect for rank—’

  ‘Doesn’t mean her point is invalid,’ Newman said.

  ‘Thanks, pet.’ Grinning, Grace popped a piece of cake into her mouth and spoke with it full. ‘Eloise, I know you’re a detective who, how can I put it . . .’ She paused. ‘Shall we say, prefers a more conventional approach.’

  Rya
n cut her off at the pass: ‘I think what Grace is trying to say—’

  ‘Er, excuse me! I can speak for myself. My suggestion may be unorthodox, but Eloise shouldn’t rule it out for that reason alone. We all know that Caroline has an amazing ability to pick up on the finer details of speech and dialect, not to mention emotional undercurrent. So what if it’s cutting corners? We need a break and we need it now.’

  Ryan shifted his gaze to O’Neil, using her title this time in case she thought he was taking liberties. Even if Grace no longer appreciated rank, he did. ‘Guv, you know it’s not a bad idea. Caroline would be happy to lend a hand. She’ll work for nothing and immediately. It makes sense, if only until the official report comes through.’ He checked his watch. ‘If you call her now, she might still be at the office.’

  ‘She’s a valuable asset,’ Newman added.

  ‘You’ve used her before?’ O’Neil was no fool.

  Grace put a hand to her chest, acting the innocent. O’Neil scanned them one by one, three pairs of shifty eyes staring at her. Taking a deep breath, she gave her consent. This unit was beginning to feel incestuous.

  23

  Ryan reassured O’Neil that Caroline’s temporary assistance was a good move. Although a lawyer in her own right, his twin had extrasensory skills the CPS had identified and utilized to the full. Being blind, her hearing was so well developed she was able to pick up on tone, pitch, speed and cadence – the unique speech patterns we all possess – so much so, she was given the majority of pre-trial recordings to listen to in her role as a Crown prosecutor. In all but title, she was an expert in voice recognition.

  Ryan’s unscheduled appearance at her office further along the Tyne at St Ann’s Quay raised no suspicions. He was a well-known face there, escorting his twin to dinner as often as his work allowed. Despite her curiosity and many questions as to where they were headed, he gave her no explanation, over and above the fact that she’d be among friends.

  When Caroline realized it was O’Neil, Grace and Newman that Ryan was taking her to see, she couldn’t have been happier. Greetings dispensed with, the newly formed unit kept their cards close, telling her very little about the investigation before she sat down with the DVDs, affording her the opportunity to make her own judgements and present an unbiased opinion. O’Neil explained that one further recording had been sent to the British Embassy in Denmark they hadn’t yet received, but she’d put in a request for it.

  The video copies Caroline would listen to were numbered V1–V4 chronologically in order that she could easily remember them. The originals were under lock and key (minus the one from Denmark), each one bearing an exhibit label with a unique reference number for easy identification, irrelevant for her purposes.

  She began with V1 (Kenmore), listening for what seemed like an age to her audience, asking to break off here and there to replay parts of the soundtrack until she’d heard enough.

  ‘Wow!’ she said. ‘She’s a compelling subject. The pauses I find interesting. They’re her way of underlining what she’s trying to convey without having to repeat or qualify her statements. On the face of it, there’s no vulnerability in her voice. There is awkwardness beneath the confident façade though, don’t you think? An underlying tension there. A need for justification perhaps—’

  Grace huffed. ‘Not a psychopath then?’

  ‘I’m not qualified to say and, with respect, neither are you. Impaired reality might be a better phrase.’ Caroline turned her head towards the retired cop. ‘I’ve never liked labels, Grace. They stigmatize people. Criminality doesn’t always equal emotional disturbance.’

  Newman smiled at his wife. ‘Well, that’s put you in your place.’

  ‘Oh, c’mon!’ Grace said. ‘The woman is psychotic. Delusional. Mental illness, personality disorder – call it what you will – she’s hardly the full shilling, is she? If she’s not off her head in the medical sense, that makes her worse, not better in my book. Either way, she doesn’t seem depressed about how much pain and suffering she causes, does she?’

  O’Neil cut her off. ‘Will you stop riding roughshod over this discussion, Grace. You insisted on Caroline’s involvement, now let her speak. You were saying, Caroline.’

  ‘Underneath what can only be described as callousness, this woman cares a great deal.’

  ‘No!’ Grace jumped in again. ‘She’s a monster and you’re making her sound like Nanny McPhee!’

  Caroline laughed.

  They all did.

  It was good that they still had a sense of humour.

  On the tape, there was a moment when the narrator paused. In that split second, Ryan’s twin heard something the rest of them did not. She’d cocked her head on one side, eyes closed, concentrating hard. ‘There’s background noise here. Could be rushing water. Was the scene isolated?’

  Ryan was suddenly in Kenmore on the viewing platform of Maxwell’s folly, a swollen river roaring beneath him, white and foaming where it bubbled over rocks. The sound of his twin asking to see the next video dissolved the image. Ejecting VI, he inserted V2 in its place, the Brighton DVD. He pressed play and waited for the voiceover to stop before pausing it for Caroline to offer an opinion.

  She was concentrating hard, fully absorbed in her task. ‘Is she working alone?’

  O’Neil wanted to know why she had asked.

  ‘The narrator has been very careful not to mention anyone else. It might be her way of protecting another person.’

  Reminded of O’Neil’s theory, Ryan interrupted. ‘Based on something our controller said, Eloise wondered if the woman might be a stalker. I’m not so sure. If this particular victim had been stalked I’m sure he’d have reported it. There would be evidence: gifts, phone calls, letters. There weren’t any.’

  ‘I was merely putting forward a suggestion that she might be a bunny-boiler stalking the killer and not the victims, if that makes any sense.’

  ‘It doesn’t,’ Grace said.

  ‘Why not?’ Newman asked. ‘Stalking is psychological warfare. Maybe she’s starring in her own fantasy, removing bodies to protect the object of her desire or getting ready to blackmail him. There’s a big difference between being at the scene and going in later. Videoing the kill would add shock value. The fact that we don’t have that suggests she wasn’t there when it took place, which explains why she recorded after the event, not during.’

  ‘She wants to be bloody careful it doesn’t backfire on her,’ Grace said. ‘I have to say, I’m with Ryan on this – it’s too far of a stretch. She’s complicit, in my humble opinion. Up to her neck in it.’

  ‘The way I see it, there’s either no connection or a strong connection between the two,’ O’Neil said. ‘And, in my defence, the suggestion was made prior to any knowledge of the Copenhagen murder. Spielberg might stalk someone here in the UK, but it would be impossible to follow a target abroad without prior knowledge of his movements. We can probably knock that theory on the head right now.’

  ‘Spielberg?’ Caroline was lost.

  ‘The death messenger,’ Grace said.

  Ryan explained. ‘Spielberg is what we’re calling her until we find an ID. She’s as proficient with a camera as she is with a knife. Now she has firearms, there will be no stopping her.’

  O’Neil shook her head at Ryan, a warning not to give too much away. ‘I should’ve made it clear from the outset that whatever is said in this apartment stays in the apartment.’

  It didn’t need saying.

  A black look from Grace prompted O’Neil to apologize.

  Ryan’s attention gravitated to the computer. He’d uploaded V3, the screen paused on the North Shields lock-up. He was pleased that his twin couldn’t see what the rest of them could. The bloody scene was enough to turn the most unflinching stomach to mush. As yet, there were no reports of a missing female. And no body had been found.

  ‘If she has a partner,’ Caroline said, ‘and it sounds as if you believe she does, I reckon it’s a male. There are
very few murder cases where both offenders are female. We don’t need the Office for National Statistics to tell us that. Assuming there is a he lurking in the background, it wouldn’t surprise me if this woman regards herself as his protector.’ Her hand found the head of her own guardian – her guide dog. Bob wagged his tail in appreciation as she offered more insight. ‘For what it’s worth, I don’t think she’s one half of a monstrous Hindley/Brady type partnership. However unsavoury her motives to you and me, she believes she’s righting wrongs. It wouldn’t surprise me to learn that she cares deeply for her other half.’

  ‘Lover?’ Grace winked at Newman. ‘They have a tendency to get under your skin.’

  ‘Matt?’ Caroline tipped her head on one side. ‘Did I miss something?’

  She alone called him that.

  Ryan almost blushed. ‘The newlyweds are making out,’ he said.

  O’Neil dropped her head. Not quick enough for him to miss the sorrowful expression on her face. What was that all about? When she looked up, he averted his eyes and went back to the screen. He’d sat through the footage several times. Nevertheless, listening to the voiceovers back-to-back validated his opinion that Spielberg had turned up the heat. The North Shields video was her most chilling of all, in his opinion.

  God help them if she ever flipped out.

  ‘I’m no profiler but I don’t think he’s a lover,’ Caroline said. ‘But I’d say that this woman would appear perfectly normal to anyone who comes across her. Can I listen to the next one?’

  Inserting V4, Ryan pressed play, wondering if his twin would be able to identify the difference between videos recorded in industrial buildings and a residential property. Halfway through, she asked him to pause it. Instinctively, he knew she’d picked up on something.

  ‘She sounds rushed in this one. Bordering on upset. Could that be right? I’m sensing anxiety – panic even – she’s not comfortable. You’ve all had years of experience. You’ve listened to witnesses recount traumatic events. What do you think?’