by Liz Mistry
Who does he think he is? Perv? He’s angry. Spitting the words out at the screen.
Shit! Shit! Shit! He’s got my drone. I pace the living room, glad that I’m on my own. I slop some vodka into a glass, top it up with Pepsi and take a long swig… Aah! Better! – Not much… but it’ll do. Don’t care if she finds the bottle. Not like she’s a proper Muslim anyways.
I scrape my fingers through my hair, not caring when my scalp starts to bleed. What to do? What to do? If I could, I’d do another one tonight… no probs. But after all that family stuff with Leo, that’s impossible… best to let Pisces have a bit of time to recover too. Pace them out. Why’s all this stuff happening at once? It’s getting near the end now, anyway. But no. I’m not going to let them push me. I’m setting the agenda, not them.
I pick my phone up and play it again. Torturing myself… yes, I know, but, so what? I’ve got to see him!
‘Whoever you are… you creepy perv. I’m on to you! You’d better watch out!’
Repeat!
‘Whoever you are… you creepy perv. I’m on to you! You’d better watch out!’
Repeat!
‘Whoever you are… you creepy perv. I’m on to you! You’d better watch out!’
Aaaaaaaaah!
I throw the phone against the wall. Maybe those tramps of his need to get it! Yeah. Maybe that’s what I’ll do. Kill the fucking tramps and I fall onto the couch, laughing.
That’ll teach him. That’ll teach My Dearest Detective Inspector Angus McGuire.
CHAPTER 79
Y ou’d think by the look on Compo’s face that Gus had presented him with a million pounds rather than a chunk of plastic that looked like some sort of miniature alien spaceship. Compo was bouncing around, desperate to get his hands on the drone, wittering on about, ‘battery life’ and ‘distance waves’ and the like. All things that Gus was sure were very enlightening, but not anything he wanted to have to get to grips with. All he wanted were some decent fingerprints, and then some of Compo’s magic to tell him who had been flying the damn thing.
On the plus side, Compo did have some good news. The spray cans found in Zarqa’s room chemically matched the paint on the mosque and the style of writing matched with graffiti work Zarqa had done at school. Alongside that, Compo had managed to obtain CCTV footage of Jo Jo buying the cans. So that part of their story held up. And according to the time recorded on the mosque cameras, they were in the process of doing their artwork, around half an hour before Karim found Pratab’s body, which was around the time of death.
Gus initially considered taking Zarqa back home to her parents, but then reconsidered. Mo and Naila wouldn’t forgive him for a while, if ever, and Zarqa and her parents had a lot of things to discuss, so he delegated Taffy to take her back home, before dropping Jo Jo at his mother’s bedside. News from the BRI was that she was unlikely to make it through the night and Jo Jo wanted to be with his mum. Jo Jo’s social worker had reluctantly agreed after Taffy had volunteered to stay with Jo Jo. Gus had never been prouder of Taffy, who had cancelled a date to be there for Jo Jo, saying, ‘That poor kid’s gonna miss his mum every day for the rest of his life, so I can surely miss one date.’
They were in Sid’s lab who’d come in as a special favour to Gus. Gus had already mentally chalked up a bottle of the finest malt for Sid, but that could wait.
‘Any prints, Sid?’
The CSI shook his head. ‘Tut tut tut. I’ve told you before about your impatience. This is going to have to be a joint venture between me and my man Compo here, if we’re to get anything.’
‘Eh?’
Sid’s sigh was exaggerated, and Gus wanted to hurry him along, but he knew it would do no good.
‘This creature is a basic drone with adaptations according to Comp. This means that it’s not only the outer casing that needs printing; it’s all the added extras too. I suggest that I print the outer casing and then Compo, bit by bit, can dissemble the creature and I continue printing as we go along. That way you’ll get my forensic input and Compo will be able to work out what information he can glean from the drone.’
Despite finding it a little creepy that Sid referred to the inanimate object as ‘the creature’, Gus realised that what the CSI proposed made sense. If only he could shake off the Dr Who vibe that Hissing Sid’s words had evoked. Last thing he wanted was the damn drone coming to life and floating about Sid’s lab saying ‘exterminate’ in a squeaky robotic voice.
Three hours later, by which time Gus’ muscles had stiffened and his body was protesting, Compo and Sid had finished. Many of the prints Sid had isolated looked promising and had been sent to the Integrated Automated Fingerprint Identification System to look for matches. With Sebastian Carlton’s suspicion that their killers were youngsters, Gus suspected that they’d be lucky to find a match, however, when they found the killer, the prints might be the difference between a successful prosecution and a failed one… and you never knew, maybe their perpetrator had got in bother before.
Compo was as excited as Barbie at a sleep-over and had been mumbling under his breath the entire time he’d been working. He now turned to Gus, without his usual beanie on his hair was strangely flat, making him look even younger and more childlike than usual. It was as if his mum had patted his hair straight down from crown to brow. The thing was, Compo hadn’t had a mum. He’d been brought up in a series of foster homes, where his eccentricities had left him a target. Gus felt a flutter of appreciation for his friend and smiled.
‘Go on then, Compo, hit me with it… but go easy on me, eh? Techie whizz kid, I’m not.’
Compo waved a hand, indicating that Gus should join him at the counter where all the components of the drone had been laid out in an orderly line. This was so different from Compo’s usual seemingly chaotic way of working, that Gus was impressed.
‘This is a budget drone, a Yuneec Typhoon H – one of the cheapest on the market at around two hundred and fifty quid. It’s got a flight time of less than half an hour and the distance it can be controlled from is no more than a mile.’
How the hell could kids afford that sort of money – from a paper round? Drugs? Compo continued, ‘This isn’t the same base as the other drone, the one that dropped the phone. From the CCTV it looked more like a Phantom Obsidian… costs a lot more. You’d be lucky to get change out of a grand for that. I’d guess both have been adapted though, so whoever’s doing that has some real knowledge of how these things work.’
Gus was glad he’d set Patti on the case. Surely one of her staff members would be aware if any of their students possessed such specialist skills. Bone tired, stiff, and bruised after his dive to catch the drone, Gus wanted to go home, but before he did, he needed to see what the letter had revealed.
Sebastian Carlton made it back to the lab just in time to witness the envelope being opened releasing the unmistakeable smell of Obsession into the room. The font, envelope, and tone were similar to the previous ones and, as expected, there were no fingerprints on the envelope. The CSI opened it and slid the contents onto a sterile tray. As usual there was an A4 sheet folded in half and Gus could tell from the bulk that there was also something else. He braced himself for it to be another photo of him and Patti in some compromising position. Relief washed over him when the letter was unfolded to reveal a photo of him talking to Jerry and Dave in Lister Park. According to the forensic expert, the previous photo had been printed on a home computer with bog-standard printer ink. Gus suspected the same would be true for this one.
‘This perp is definitely taking pleasure in getting up close and personal to you.’
Gus could have forgiven Carlton’s enthusiastic tone, if the other man hadn’t been rocking back and forth on his heels when he stated the damn obvious.
‘Can you remember when this was taken? Did you notice anyone in the vicinity?’
Gosh, never thought to think about that, Prof! Gus bit back a sarcastic comment. He was tetchy because he was tired and there was no need to take it out
on the professor. He remembered chatting to Jerry and Dave on… Monday. Had it been Monday? Or maybe Tuesday? It was so frustrating to think that while he’d been engrossed in conversation, his stalker, the killer had been right there. Hell, he’d probably passed them and not given them a second glance.
Carlton looked at Gus for a moment. ‘You want to try a cognitive interview?’
Gus glanced from Carlton to Compo. The short answer was no! The last thing he wanted to do was put himself under Carlton’s influence, then he remembered how kind the man had been during his panic attack and, with a sign to the CSI to wait for them, he nodded.
Carlton guided him over to a chair and made him sit before he dragged another one over and positioned it in front of Gus. With Compo hovering by his shoulder and Carlton’s knees brushing his, Gus couldn’t have been any more uncomfortable.
Exhaling, he relaxed his shoulders as per the professor’s instructions, closed his eyes and waited.
‘What are you talking to the two men about?’
That was easy. ‘Their phones. How the sunny weather meant they liked sleeping out. How worried they were about Zarqa being out on her own after dark.’
‘The park was busy, then?’ Carlton’s voice was low, conversational.
‘Yeah, I passed loads of people; the power-walkers, the joggers, kids on their way to school.’
‘Just turn your head in the direction the photo was taken from. What can you see?’
Gus frowned. In his mind, he twisted his body to the left and looked across the pond towards the boating pavilion. ‘The path’s nearly empty… a couple of old Muslim men with walking sticks. I’ve seen them before. They always say hello. There’s someone getting up from the bench, swinging a bag onto their shoulders. A rucksack? They’re walking towards the kids’ play area. Hold on… They stop, glance round, and then they’re off again.’ Gus’ heart pounded. He didn’t know where that memory came from. Couldn’t remember seeing that person earlier. He screwed his eyes closed, focussing, willing them to turn around so he can see their face. ‘Shit! They’re too far away. Can’t see who it is… not sure if it’s a boy or a girl. They’ve got a cap on. Shorts and a blue T-shirt!’ Gus’ eyes sprang open and meet Carton’s smiling gaze. ‘Can’t see their face! I couldn’t see their damn face!’
‘You did well, Gus.’
‘Not really… how does that help? Might not even have been them who took the photo.’
‘Oh, I think it was. That’s why you noticed them. Your subconscious made you. Now, this gives us someone to cross reference with your friends and with the staff at the café and boating pavilion. Any of them may remember the same person, but with more details.’
Gus shrugged. Despite his earlier doubts, he was disappointed. So near and yet so far away.
‘Did you get a sense of this person’s age?’
‘A kid… late teens… early twenties, I’d say – but who knows?’
Sebastian stood up, smiling at Gus. ‘Well that’s consistent with my existing profile, isn’t it?’
Yeah, but who knows if your profile is right? Gus narrowly stopped himself from saying the words. Instead, he moved over to where the CSI had been watching the cognitive interview with interest. ‘Let’s see what my stalker’s got to say for themselves this time.’
The CSI unfolded the letter and laid it flat so they could all see.
My Dearest Detective Inspector Angus McGuire,
It’s becoming more and more of a delight to watch you. Are you enjoying the show so far? I must admit it’s been a fascinating project for me. How are your tramp friends? Pity they didn’t turn up just a little earlier the other night, isn’t it? Who knows what might have happened?
Anyway, just wanted to keep in touch… let you know I’m thinking of you.
This is not the end… not by a long chalk!
Watch this space!
‘This person knows you know Jerry and Dave well. They’ve also confirmed that they are aware of Jerry and Dave’s role in finding Betsy. I think this is a definite indication that your stalker is involved in these murders.’
Confirmation of something they already suspected, but nothing fresh. ‘How does that sit with your profile, that there are more than one of them involved?’
Carlton studied the letter for a bit longer. ‘I think this letter is personal to you, Gus. I think your stalker knows you personally and you know them. They may have only ever come across you in passing, but in their mind, they’ve magnified a connection to you. The letter is their baby… it’s separate to the killings. You are their obsession.’
None of this was helpful… not now. Not to help catch the killer and meanwhile, who knew who the next target would be?
Carlton was talking again. ‘If there are two of them, then this one is the leader… the manipulator. The other is just their pawn. But the fact that the stalking incidents have increased, intimates that the killings may increase too. I think we need to be prepared for another attack very soon. I think it’s time to get your lovely Nancy and the indomitable DCS Bashir in front of the camera. You need to issue a warning. This could all accelerate very quickly. With these sort of spree killings over a short period, the endings are usually violent, unpredictable, and sudden. You need to issue a warning. We don’t want any more dead kids in Bradford this summer, do we?’
CHAPTER 80
Leo
M e: You see this crap on the telly? You know what it’s about?
I’m hunked down in a chair, minding my own business, ignoring the drama… the crying and shit that’s going on around me. Rather be anywhere else but here, but I’m not allowed. It’s like they’re glued to me. Can’t breathe without them being all over me. I’d rather be at home than in this hellhole. Really want a cig!
Can’t believe Look North. Mehmoona’s mum on the telly telling us to keep safe. Not to let the teenagers go out alone. Keep them indoors.
We have reason to suspect that there is a danger on the streets of Bradford and while the police are working to…
I tune out for a moment, wondering if I can make my escape… but no. She’s back, sitting next to me, crowding me.
…anything to report at all, please contact us immediately on 0…
My phone vibrates and I stand up. ‘Need the loo.’ Surely, they won’t follow me there too? But no. She’s distracted and so I sneak away.
Can’t stand the stink of these places… all bleach and stuff. Catches in my throat. I lock myself in a cubicle and relax. First space I’ve had all day, but I know it won’t last for long. Have to be quick. I look at my phone. Pisces! Aw crap!
Pisces: You see the news? I’m scared. We gotta stop.
Should I wait for Zodiac? I look at my phone willing Zodiac to reply. Nothing!
Me: Don’t be a div. We’re okay. Stop worrying! Laters!
Pisces: What if they know? Mehmoona’s mum said they were closing in.
Me: Rubbish. Go to bed. We’ll talk tomorrow. Laters!
Despite my words to Pisces, I’m a bit nervous too. Unsettled. Wish Zodiac would reply.
FRIDAY
CHAPTER 81
G us hadn’t expected to see Katie for a while. He’d hoped she’d give him some space and not hassle him, but he was wrong. He came downstairs when the doorbell rang and glanced at the CCTV. His new home security had been great so far… as long as he remembered to switch it on, that was. Katie stood looking all wan and waiflike, and Gus’ stomach contracted. She was clearly in ‘I’m a victim’ mode. She looked like a ten-year-old in her knee-length shorts and strappy top. When she looked up at the camera, he was shocked to see huge black bags under her eyes. Her cheeks were hollowed out and her arms looked skinny and pale. The deterioration in her physical appearance since the last time he saw her only a few days ago was what prompted him to open the door. He felt a right dick for his earlier thoughts.
‘Shit, Katie. What’s wrong?’
Katie, a slight smile teasing her lips, stepped into the hallway.
‘You’re not saying you care, are you?’
For some reason, her words seemed hollow as opposed to the jovial way he thought she’d intended. Her eyes filled up and Gus stepped forward sweeping her against his chest. ‘You’ve got to tell me what’s wrong,’ he whispered, scared of her reply, yet trying defiantly to keep upbeat. Whatever was troubling Katie was serious… very serious. ‘I can’t help you if you don’t.’
Katie pushed away from him, took a scruffy tissue from her pocket, blew her nose, and stepped towards the kitchen. ‘You know me. I’m not doing owt without a cup of Yorkshire Tea in my hand.’
Thanks to Alice he had milk that wasn’t completely out of date and ginger nut biscuits. As he made the tea, he observed his sister from the corner of his eye. Close up she looked even more gaunt that she had on the camera. Her hair was the only thing that seemed radiant and healthy. If Gabby had taken out his refusal to father their child on his sister, he’d kill her. He’d bloody kill her. Dropping the used tea bags into the bin, leaving a trail of dark droplets on the worksurface, he worked himself into even more of a fury. Gabriella was a problem. She was selfish, manipulative, and a pain in the backside. He couldn’t work out what Katie saw in her. He’d long since learned the truth about his ex-wife. It seemed, though, that his sister was as in love with Gabby today as she’d been the day Gabby left him and moved into Katie’s flat.
He sat opposite Katie and, for want of anything better to do, opened the ginger nuts and grabbed a couple before pushing the packet towards Katie. ‘So, you gonna tell me what’s up? Gabby taking it out on you that I said no?’
Katie blew on her tea but placed the cup on the table without drinking. Sounding tired, her eyes flitting to a point beyond Gus’ shoulder, she said, ‘I wish you and Gabby would just get on you know? Put your differences behind you.’
Gus wanted to rage about the way Gabriella had treated him on numerous occasions, but something in his sister’s expression stopped him. Instead he hunched over the table and, with an inexplicable dread weighing down on him, dunked another biscuit he didn’t want into his mug.