by Liz Mistry
Mind back on the crime scene and the conundrum of the missing phone, Gus nodded absentmindedly. ‘Thanks, that’s great.’
Dr McGuire began to edge his way past CSIs to get out of the tent and as if he’d only just remembered, he turned back and leaned right over Gus, his morning breath sour as he said, ‘Whatever you decide is fine with me and your mum, Angus.’
Gus frowned, momentarily confused and then, as realisation came, his shoulders stiffened, and blood rushed to his face. ‘You knew? You bloody knew… the both of you… Mum too? And you didn’t think to warn me?’
Shrugging off his dad’s huge hand, he pushed past him. ‘Get away from me. Like always, you’ve no sense of professionalism. This is not something for now. Just go away and leave me to do my job.’
He moved off, paused, and swung back round to face his dad. ‘And…’ his voice sounding strangled as he spat the words out, ‘…you’ve always taken her side…’
CHAPTER 50
Leo
S till boiling, even at this time. I’m sweating like a pig after running. Need to stop smoking… really do. My chest’s gonna explode in a minute… phlegm crackling right across it and up to my throat. I stop, cough a couple of times, wishing it wasn’t so loud in the dark, and hoik up a gob of gunge. Disgusting or what?
Zodiac said not to take a taxi, not to draw attention to ourselves… but what the heck? It’s late and I need to get home. If anyone notices I’m not there, things could go badly wrong. What excuse could I possibly give for being out at this time of the morning?
Anyway, I’m smart. Didn’t take the taxi all the way home. Just from Oak Lane to a few streets away. Driver never even looked at me and I used the burner… no trace. Anyway, it’s not like I’ve got Snapchat Killer tattooed on my face, is it? Nobody’s looking at kids for this… we’re in the clear.
Won’t tell Zodiac though. Nobody needs the wrath of Zodiac when they’re in top form, even less when they are under the weather and right now, I feel like crap. Just hope Pisces holds it together. Think Zodiac has a plan though… we need one… a contingency… just in case.
CHAPTER 51
T his situation was one of the strangest professional ones Gus had found himself in. Interviewing a distraught witness was always fraught. Interviewing a distraught witness in the presence of their parent was worse and interviewing said witness in the presence of their mother, when that parent was also your big boss, was like walking on thin ice and expecting it to crack under your feet at any moment. Alice had arranged for Ms Reavley to be escorted back home with a Family Liaison Officer and had come in to sit with Mehmoona while they waited for Gus to arrive.
Alice had wanted to keep Mehmoona Bashir and the DCS in the comfortable interview room downstairs. With its soft couches and pastel coloured walls, it was custom built for sensitive interviews. However, the DCS had had other ideas and had insisted she take her daughter up to her office.
This was yet another thing that put Gus at a disadvantage. Walking into the room, he’d smiled at Alice and judged, by the strained smile she offered back, that the previous hour or so had been uncomfortable to say the least. Mehmoona was sprawled over the couch in the corner, head resting on a cushion, her long dark hair with its bleached tips spread out behind her. She held a strand of it and was twirling it round and round between her thumb and index finger as she stared at the ceiling. DCS Bashir was behind her desk sifting through paperwork. The remains of a vending machine sandwich and a squashed Pepsi Max can were on the coffee table.
As Gus strode into the room, Mehmoona swung her legs off the couch and stood up, smiling, hand extended. ‘Hello, DI McGuire. Nice to see you again.’ As if the girl realised how trite her words sounded under the circumstances, she grimaced, withdrew her hand, and sank back onto the couch. Immediately, she was transformed from a self-confident teen who’d had manners instilled in her from a young age, to a hesitant, awkward girl, who didn’t know what to do with herself.
Her mum, DCS Bashir, stood up gracefully and moved round her desk. ‘At last.’
Gus glanced at her but got no indication that her words were accusing.
She moved over, sat down beside her daughter, put her arm around her, and squeezed the girl’s shoulder. This left Gus to sit beside Alice at the other side of the coffee table. Gus studied Mehmoona and his boss. He’d already ascertained from the phone conversation he’d overheard the other day that there was some friction between mother and daughter, but right now all he saw was a shocked girl, pleased to have her mother beside her.
‘You’ve already seen the Snapchat?’ The DCS’ tone was brusque and business-like.
Gus nodded. It had been almost a carbon copy of the one sent to Haider, except the victim was Betsy Reavley. Mehmoona’s quick thinking had preserved the image for their perusal. She was clearly her mother’s daughter. Maybe she’d have a career in the police in the future. At the point the image had been taken, the knife was still inserted in the wound. It looked similar to the previous weapon. A bog-standard kitchen knife that, until they found the weapon and matched it to the wounds, added little to their case.
‘Was Betsy a particular friend of yours, Moona, or do you prefer Mehmoona?’
The girl exhaled and glanced at her mother before replying. ‘Either’s fine. Didn’t really know Betsy. From school, of course, but we didn’t hang out. She was in a couple of my classes. Haven’t seen her for ages, because it’s exam time. We have study days.’
Ah, this was different. Haider had been Pratab Patel’s best friend at one point, but Mehmoona claimed hardly to know their newest victim. That would need verifying. He glanced at Alice and was pleased when her slight nod told him she’d get it checked out.
‘Can you remember when you last saw her?’
Mehmoona frowned, tapped her leg with her fingers, ‘Well, I saw her on Monday. In the hall for our Maths GCSE. But to speak to…’ She pursed her lips and began twirling her hair again. ‘Can’t be sure, but not for weeks, I’d say.’
‘What can you tell us about Betsy? Who were her friends? Do you know where she hung out, outside school? Anything you can tell us, no matter how unimportant it may seem to you, might help.’
‘Well the thing is…’ she glanced at her mum, gave a small shrug and said, ‘Betsy didn’t really have many friends.’ She wrinkled up her nose in an apologetic gesture and continued, ‘Nobody liked her that much. She was a bit of a telltale… you know? Got that Pratab’s sister in trouble a couple of times, that sort of thing. Other than that, I don’t know.’ She looked down at her hands and then glanced up again. ‘Why don’t you ask Ms Copley, she’ll be happy to help you.’
Gus froze. Was that a smirk that slid across her lips or did he imagine it? He glanced at Alice and saw she was looking at the girl, her forehead creased. So, not his imagination. Well, it was to be expected. Probably every kid at the Academy had seen it.
DCS Bashir glared at her daughter. ‘Moona, I spoke to you about this.’
Mehmoona rolled her eyes, ‘Yeah well. It’s not like I can pretend not to have seen them, is it? Every kid in school’s seen him having it off with Ms Copley. Can’t pretend it never happened, can I?’
She turned to Gus. ‘Not that I’m judging or anything. Think it’s pretty cool really that old folk still like...’ She grimaced in a sort of ‘it’s gross’ gesture. ‘You know, like, get it on?’
Conscious of both Bashir glaring at her daughter and Alice’s snort of laughter disguised as a cough, Gus wanted to throw his arms up in the air and say, ‘For God’s sake, I’m not old, you cheeky cow,’ in the same tone he would have used with Zarqa. Instead, he grinned, adopting a self-effacing manner and said, ‘Well, you know that was an infringement of both mine and Ms Copley’s privacy, yeah?’
Mehmoona nodded.
‘So, maybe now you’ve fessed up to seeing it, we can move on from that childish rubbish and get on with the thing that’s really important here… the murder of your school friend.’
>
He was pleased to see the girl bite her lip, a flicker of confusion in her eyes, but then it was gone, and she exhaled. ‘Yes, you’re right. Sorry. That was tight of me. Poor Betsy… poor Betsy.’ And she turned, flinging herself into her mother’s arms, sobbing as if she’d never stop.
For a moment, Gus felt like a dick. He’d been firm with the girl and hadn’t really taken into account how traumatic it must have been for her to see that Snapchat and to realise its significance. She’d done well to screenshot it and he could have been a little less brutal with her. He raised his head to meet his superior officers gaze, expecting to see condemnation in her eyes. Instead she gave a curt nod, her lips scrunched up in sardonic approval, and continued to soothe her daughter.
‘Al, maybe we need some drinks, yes?’
Alice tore her gaze away from the mother and daughter and nodded. ‘I’m on it. Back in a moment.’
By the time Alice returned, Mehmoona had stopped crying and, face tear-stained, was leaning against her mother. Gus studied the tableau for a moment. Bashir looked embarrassed to be in the vulnerable position of comforting her daughter… but there was something else. She looked uncomfortable, uncertain of herself. That little insight into his boss’s frailty made Gus like her just a little bit more. Good to know she was human too.
As Alice deposited a range of soft drinks and bottles of chilled water on the table, Gus smiled at Mehmoona. ‘Can you tell us anything about Pratab Patel? Were Betsy and Pratab friendly?’
Mehmoona lifted a strand of hair and began twisting it round her finger, looking thoughtful. ‘I wouldn’t have said so… not really. Though I heard she left a mushy message on his Facebook page.’
Although Compo was monitoring the outpourings of grief that had made it to Pratab’s timeline, he hadn’t come up with anything that seemed dodgy or suspicious, but Gus was the first to admit that the best judges of ‘dodgy and suspicious’ were undoubtedly Pratab’s peers. He made a note to get Compo to cross reference the two Facebook pages. No doubt Betsy Reavley’s would soon be filled with just as many outpourings of grief. ‘What sort of message?’
The girl shrugged. ‘Dunno. Never saw it. I’m not friends with either of them on Facebook. Just heard someone on the bus on the way home from school laughing at her. Don’t think Pratab thought much of Betsy, by all accounts.’
‘You pick up anything else? Hear anything else?’
Mehmoona scrunched up her nose. ‘No… I’m not really in the loop. Not been here long enough to be in the in crowd.’
That’s right. Mehmoona had only moved from Birmingham with her mother just over a year ago. Was it strange then, that the killer had sent the Snapchat to Mehmoona or was it just a random thing?
‘When will I get my phone back? I got to have it. How else can I keep in contact with my mates?’
Before Gus could reply, the DCS, voice harsh said, ‘For God’s sake, Moona. A girl is dead. A girl you knew. You can do without your phone for a few days, until DI McGuire is done with it.’
If it hadn’t been in such dire circumstances, Gus would have laughed out loud at the outraged look on the girl’s face. Only a teen could open their eyes so wide, raise their eyebrows so high, and twist their mouth into a silent snarl of derision, while their entire body radiated annoyance.
‘Okay, I was only asking. Yeah?’
Exhaling loudly, Gazala Bashir stood and stretched. ‘You can have my old one if it really bothers you that much. Come on. Let’s get home. Maybe we’ll be able to catch a couple of hours’ kip.’
Gus looked out the window and saw that the sky was getting lighter. How he wished he too could grab a few hours kip, but alas there was work to be done and the next day was forecast to be the hottest day yet. Oh joy.
CHAPTER 52
R ight, the first thing we need to do is find Betsy Reavley’s damn phone.’ Gus had had no sleep and it was now eight in the morning at the start of another scorching Wednesday. Already, he was sticky and irritable, and the day wasn’t going to get any cooler. Compo had made a trip to The Lunch Monkey café and the air was filled with the smell of bacon butties, reminding Gus that he hadn’t eaten yet. His stomach growled and he grabbed the last one, before Compo, the human hoover, could devour it as quickly as he had the other three. He was sure the lad had worms.
As he watched Gus bite into his roll, Compo looked crestfallen. ‘I’ve initiated a trace on the phone. If it’s switched on, we should be able to locate its whereabouts. If it’s still with the bastard who did this, then he’s toast.’
Gus didn’t hold out a lot of hope. He suspected the perpetrator had been disturbed by Jerry and Dave and taken off with the phone. No doubt, by now it would have been dumped in the boating lake or in a bin somewhere. He turned to Sebastian Carlton, who was picking his teeth with a paperclip. ‘Any thoughts on these new developments, Sebastian?’
The man’s sigh would have been annoying, had Gus not recognised it for what it was; frustration at having nothing much more to add.
‘At this stage, Gus, I can’t say much. Two victims aren’t much to go on. The killers haven’t been going long enough to make many mistakes… to leave many clues.’ He nodded at Compo. ‘Unless we get lucky with the phone of course. At this stage, I can only advise that you work on victimology. Everything you can find out about the victims… there must be a link between the victims and the killers. Alice tells me both victims attend the same school… I’d start there.’
Inwardly Gus groaned. He hadn’t spoken to Patti since, what he now referred to as ‘SexTapeGate’, and he didn’t fancy braving the school. Asking questions of teenagers was never easy, but the knowledge that they’d each probably giggled over his bare butt, made it even less appealing. Maybe he’d send Alice. She was good with kids.
He re-ran Carlton’s words through his mind. ‘That’s twice you’ve said killers… plural. You agree there’s more than one perpetrator?’
‘Yes, definitely.’ Carlton dug a bit deeper with the paper clip, making Gus cringe. ‘I’ve got a bit of a thought spinning in my head, but nothing concrete to back it up… it’s to do with this Snapchat thing.’
‘Yeah, I was wondering about that… it seems to be a kid’s thing, doesn’t it? I know Mo’s eldest three use it, but I don’t know any adults who do.’ Gus took another bite of his sandwich, ignoring Compo’s plaintive gaze. ‘Of course, that could just be a smokescreen?’
‘Yeah.’ Carlton dropped the clip on the desk and ran his tongue around his mouth. ‘Although, the way this is going, we could be looking at serial killings, and you know there are not too many serial killer teams around – strange dynamics if it’s a team.’
‘You mean a team like Rosemary and Fred West or Hindley and Brady?’ Compo was always keen to get brownie points from his mentor and was positively bouncing in his chair. Carlton smiled at his protégée, again reminding Gus of how incongruous that partnership was. Maybe Carlton should write a paper on those dynamics.
‘Exactly, Compo, prime examples. Makes me wonder if it’s just a pair or perhaps more than two. It could be a spree. Sprees normally occur within a short time span, often resulting in the death of the perp… either by suicide or suicide by cop. We can’t rule that out, either. Despite the posing, the seeming lack of a sexual motive makes me question the serial killer idea. Although knifings often have a sexual element, they’re usually more frenzied and not normally directed at the jugular in such a clinical way. I wonder if our perpetrator or perpetrators is or are playing games with us… taunting us. Throwing down the gauntlet. They’re definitely after attention. It remains to be seen whether general attention will do or if they’re focussing on a particular person.’
Gus rolled his eyes; here we go again with the Americanisms. He’d almost forgotten Carlton’s tendency to Americanise everything. The other man said it was as a result of his time with the Behavioural Unit. Gus suspected it was an affectation.
Carlton’s eyes lit up as if he was discussing a tricky
political topic. ‘Fascinating… lots to think about.’ And he leaned back, folded his arms across his chest and closed his eyes.
Gus blinked. Apparently, that was all they were getting for now! He turned to Compo. ‘Can you get a list of contacts on Betsy’s phone, and cross match them with Pratab’s?’
‘Yep, I can… hey, Gus. The tracking’s come in for Betsy Reavley’s phone. Let me download it.’
They waited, ignoring the small snores coming from Sebastian Carlton as they watched the map appear on the large screen. For a moment there was a stunned silence. The phone was switched on, which was surprising in itself. Gus took a step closer…
On the screen a green light flashed. ‘What the…?’
Compo jumped up. ‘Shit, Gus, that’s…’
But Gus was already heading out the door, yelling after him, ‘Get patrol cars, Alice and Taffy there, right now…’
CHAPTER 53
Zodiac
T he waiting is killing me. How long does it take them to hack into a phone, for God’s sake? I switched it on and dropped it off over an hour ago so, for now, it’s a waiting game. Can hardly contain myself. Can’t wait to see what they’ll do. This plan was sheer genius. He’d never in a million years expect this… how could he? He was still in the dark. But now the Snapchat Killer’s in control.
I sip my water. It’s already getting lukewarm and my T-shirt’s sticking to me. Hope I don’t have to kick my heels here for much longer. Don’t want to catch anyone’s attention, especially with the pigs all over the shop. Crime scene tape’s still up. It’ll be there for days still. The pigs are mixing with folk, talking and asking questions. Like that’ll do them any good. How many of this lot would’ve been around last night? No wonder they’re no further forward. Two kids dead and they’re kicking their heels wasting time. Snapchat Killer Two: Bradford Police Zilch.
I’ll head off for a walk. Only so long you can sit on a bench with headphones in and pretend to be engrossed in your phone. They’re still at it on Facebook, posting photos of Betsy, and posting on her timeline.