Beyond Evidence (7 page)

Ten

Believer or Sceptic

D.S Preston sat on the edge of the table after three hours in the interview room with Patrick and his partner D.C Lang. Patrick had just given a swab from the inside of his mouth. He had also just finished explaining everything that he had experienced.

"OK I think we could all do with some coffee," said D.S Preston standing up and taking a stretch. He motioned D.C Lang to the door.

"We'll be back in a tick, coffee Mr McLaughlin?" asked D.C Lang.

"Yeah
, great thanks," Patrick answered distantly.

D.S Preston closed the door behind them and the colleagues began walking down the corridor towards the vending machine.

"So... he's crackers eh?" D.C Lang suggested with a big sarcastic grin on his face.

"Jim, you never were the understanding type were you?" Preston put his money in the machine and pressed the button for strong black coffee.

"Come on now Paul you’re not seriously suggesting that this guy is of the sane mind, are you? He is one hundred percent involved in this case. There's no way he could have known all of those things about the individual murders if he wasn't!" Lang protested.

"Well the DNA will prove any physical involvement at least, anything else after that will just have to wait until the results arrive. We will specifically request a quick
result for Mr McLaughlin's DNA." Preston gave Lang two coffees and pressed the button for one more.

Paul Preston and Jim Lang had been partners for ten years or so. They had worked together on many cases, all of which had
been solved through hard work, determination and a large pint of lager at the end of each shift, to say the least. They had become best friends over the years after spending so many late night shifts and interrogations together. They were good men, a good laugh at times, and they loved their families dearly. But they did live their days with their heads in the job. It was the best job anyone could ask for, catching petty and proper, fearful criminals and working their backsides off to put them away for a very long time. If it was up to Preston and Lang there would be no time limit at all for the likes of murderers, rapists and paedophiles.

"Put them all on a desert island in the middle of the sea miles away from land and innocent human life and let them fight amongst themselves. That's my motto!" Preston would always say.

Both Preston and Lang had grown up children in their twenties. Preston in particular had a daughter at twenty something years old and so this particular case was hitting a raw nerve, considering the circumstances.

"Aye, maybe you're right Paul, but I'm not so sure. There's something
dodgy about this McLaughlin lad. He knows too much not to be involved!" Lang went on as Preston retrieved the third coffee from the machine.

They walked back along the corridor towards the interview room where they had left Patrick.

"Jim, don't be so negative about him just yet. In my years of cases like this, the murderer doesn't just pop up out of nowhere with graphic details the way Patrick has. He knows what has happened to these victims in graphic detail yes, but how? I'll hold my hands up if the DNA comes back matching that of the sample taken from the girls, fair enough. I've got a feeling that he is telling us the truth!" Preston kept his head facing the direction they were headed down the corridor.

Lang stopped dead on his feet
and laughed in disbelief. "Are you bloody serious Paul? There's no way you're serious," Lang was beginning to sound slightly annoyed.

"Well unless he is the pathologist that carried out the post mortems, which we both know he isn't then I'm willing to hear him out a little more!" Preston smiled sarcastically at La
ng then he motioned to the door. "Shall we?"

Preston opened the door and held it open for Lang since he was carrying two cups of hot coffee. Lang handed a cup to Patrick who smiled briefly at him. Preston closed the door behind Lang and both officers sat down opposite Patrick.

"You both think I'm mad don't you?" asked Patrick.

"Well, I myself am slightly more intrigued by your revelations than D.C Lang here, but what I would like to know is how you, Mr McLaughlin feel you can help us in this case like you said at the beginning?" Preston asked seriously.

"Well, whether you believe me or not or whether or not you believe in the afterlife, this is real for me...as real as it gets actually. So what I'm saying here is that I can help your investigation by leading you to the murderer of these girls." Patrick was shaking with nerves inside but his physical presence was that of a man who was confident in his words.

D.C Lang couldn't take his eyes off Patrick as he spoke. He was the biggest sceptic out there
, but even he felt like Patrick’s words were sounding confident.

"So, how can you lead us to the murderer exactly?" Lang tr
ied not to sound unprofessional. "No offence kid, but your story doesn't seem like something solid that we can use to put to our superior to work with here!"

Preston kept facing Patrick’
s direction but his eyes rolled towards Lang as he spoke. This was the first time in twenty odd years that the two colleagues were in a slight disagreement.

"I can completely understand your scepticism concerning this particular situation Sir, but I am a man of my word. What I do is completely, one hundred percent legitimate. The spirits of the victims have shown me the individual places they each took their last breath, the clothing they were wearing, the injuries they had, even the drinks they had on the night that they were killed. I am not looking for any credit for
myself here, all I want is a clear head, and to know that my fiancée will feel safe, out at night again."

Patrick sat back on his chair and ran his hands over his scalp, looking on at Preston and Lang. He had never met any of these women before in his life, in this case only in their death. He knew nothing about them or their families. He knew nothing about anything to do with them, yet it seemed now more than before, he wanted to catch this sick minded killer and
help put him away for a very long time.

Preston stood up and put his hands on the back of Lang's chair,
who then also proceeded to stand up and walked to the back of the room.

"Mr McLaughlin, the DNA results will be with us in a few days, you'll be hearing from us with regards to that if there are any developments." Preston said with a slight smile.

"Alright, thank you for your time." Patrick got up and Lang opened the door for him.

Once the door was closed and Patrick was on the other side, there was silence for a few moments.

Lang approached the table again and standing behind Preston he said, "You believe every word he has just said, don't you?"

"Well, we don't seem to have any other damn leads in this investigation do we? The murderer is a bloody professional by the looks of it. Either that or he is invisible. There is not a single trace of him!" Preston said.

"Well remember we are still waiting on DNA." Lang nodded his head, "I know what you're going to say and yes I'm thinking it too!"

"I'm thinking that any murderer in their sane mind, if any, would
n't give a voluntary DNA sample." Preston confirmed Lang's expectation.

Eleven

Mark

The Blue Bar was absolutely heaving on Friday evening, people were ordering food and cocktails and you could hear a thousand conversations going on around all the tables and bar sides. The bar itself was in the middle of the room with five staff working behind it. Its decor was very classy, with a spiral staircase at the back leading to a seated area where black leather couches and seats darted around the place. Around the top of the bar were lots of blue LED lights which highlighted all of the bottles of spirits and glasses. Staff stood behind the bar making cocktails. The sound of alcohol being shaken in with the ice and the smell of fancy foods being cooked from scratch by the wonderfully talented chefs was relaxing to the customers and the norm to staff.

The Blue Bar had a reputation of class, sophistication and never a dull night was to be had. That's why Patrick loved working there so much. He had worked in the bar for two years and it got better each night he was there. For some reason though, tonight was stressful. A member of bar staff recently left and hadn't been replaced so everything was a big rush.

As Patrick took a fifteen minute break, he decided to go out to the back for a cigarette. He walked down the stairs to go out to the back door when the manager's office door opened.

"Ah Patr
ick, just who I was looking for," said William, the manager of The Blue Bar.

"Oh? What I have I done now?" Patrick laughed taking out his cigarettes.

"Nothing at all, can I borrow you for one moment though?" William asked sounding excited. William was an over excited, enthusiastic about everything type of man. Patrick liked this about him. It helped keep him upbeat about things too, especially on nights like tonight when service was rushed.

"Sure can, but I only have
fifteen so make it quick Willie."

Patrick had become very friendly with William over the last two years whilst working in the bar. Patrick wasn't the assistant to William, but if ever there were a problem within work, William would always call on him.

Patrick went inside the office and he noticed that William had a visitor with him.

"Hi,
" said the third man whom Patrick did not recognise.

"Patrick this is Mark, Mark - Patrick!" William said introducing them.

Mark was tall, with dark hair gelled back from his face. His skin was quite tanned and he was smartly dressed in a white shirt, black trousers and a black tie.

"Mark is our new member of the bar staff. He will be starting his shifts tonight and I really wanted you to be the one to show him the ropes?" William suggested to Patrick.

"No bother at all. So have you worked in bars before Mark?" Patrick shook his hand.

"Here and there when I was at University, you been here long?"

"Two years, so I'll be able to show you everything there is to know about the bar upstairs. But before I do I really need this smoke. Do you fancy one before we start the night?" Patrick held the pack out to Mark.

"Yeah that would be good, but I have my own thanks!" Mark took a pack out of his back pocket and both men proceeded to move towards the office door.

Even though it was the summer time, there was a slight chill in the air when the breeze caught their skin.

"So what's your story? Have you always lived in Glasgow?" Patrick asked as he lit his cigarette.

"I've lived all over really. Lived down in Bristol for a while when I was a Uni, then I moved back up here around two years ago when I finished studying," Mark replied, dragging on his cigarette in between his words, "what about you?"

"Yep, always been a Glasgow man, wouldn't leave this place even if I wanted to. I live with my fiancée down at Glasgow harbour."

"Nice. Bet they're expensive to rent?" Mark dropped the cigarette on the ground and crushed it with his shoe and continued, "Sorry that sounded really nosy!"

"A lot of people say that to me when I tell them where I live. To be honest they are really expensive but we bought it so it's cheaper than it would be to rent it." Patrick put out the cigarette and held the door open for Mark to go inside first.

As they ascended the stairs the music from the bar above sounded far away and the sounds that were heard were the base and beat of the music and the echoing conversations being had by the people being wined and dined by the staff left to run the bar.

"It gets really busy on Friday nights in here so we probably won't get a chance to talk till closing. But I will show you the basics and anything else we can deal with if it crops up, does that sound ok?" Patrick asked as they reached the door leading into the bar.

"Sounds like a plan!"

As they entered the bustling room, Patrick led Mark behind the bar and showed him where everything was kept and how to run the till. The night progressed well, with plenty of cash being exchanged across the bar and food service was running at a good pace. One well dressed woman approached the bar with a piece of white card in her hand. She was waiting a few moments whilst Mark served a customer before her.

"What can I get for you?" Mark asked politely.

The woman wore a sleek knee length dress which fitted her figure perfectly, with slim straps. Her hair hung in loose dark blond curls around her face and her lips were shimmering under the lights.

"My drinks list is on this, I'd never remember it otherwise!" she smiled.

Mark took the card from her and began making his way through the list. He had his back to the woman as he made up the drinks when Patrick came to his side and said, "Think she has a thing for you!"

"Who?" Mark tried to play dumb, but he knew fine well she was watching him. He could feel her eyes on the back of his neck.

"The lady in the black dress, and if I'm not mistaken, isn't that a name and phone number on the back there?" Patrick took the card from the counter where Mark had placed it and flipped it over.

"How'd you manage to notice that?" Mark was laughing now.

"I saw it on the back when she handed you the card. Think you've got yourself
a lady for the night my friend," Patrick imitated a Sean Connery accent with a sarcastic grin on his face.

"We shall see. I'm not one to date the customers," Mark continued to make the drinks.

"Are you serious?"

"No. Look at her," Mark laughed. F
inishing the last drink he winked at Patrick as he turned to his admirer.

"Here we are, that will be fifteen
pounds and ninety pence please." Mark placed the drinks down in front of the woman and looked straight into her eyes. As she handed him the money he gently clasped his hand around her and said, "What is your name?"

She almost crumbled under the electricity that ran up her arm the minute he touched her. She kept her composure and answered in a steady voice, "Anna."

"Lovely, Anna. I'm Mark and I am going to be making use of this little card that you gave me. How's about I give you a call tonight and we can arrange a date?"

"Ok that sounds great," she smiled
widely, collected her drinks and went back to the table where her friends were waiting.

Patrick looked on in amazement. He felt like he were in the middle of a fifties romance movie.

"That was something else, she was like putty in your hands." Patrick put his hand on Mark’s shoulder playfully and continued, "If I didn't have Jodie already I'd be asking for some tips."

"And that is something I can't help you with, I'm sorry
to say I don't know how I do it. This has happened in almost every bar I've ever worked in, I must send out some sort of aura to the ladies," he said laughing.

The night went on as quick as it began and the bar bustled with people drinking, eating and dancing. The music played on creating the perfect atmosphere for a great night out. As the night approached closing time and Patrick and the rest of the bar staff began clearing tables and the bar, the conversation flowed between him and Mark as though they had been friends for years. Patrick was glad that he was getting on so well with Mark.

"So, you work here full time, what else do you do?" asked Mark as they were stacking chairs and bar stools.

"Nothing, just this.
We are kind of house plants me and Jodie, we like to chill out in the flat whenever we get the chance."

"You don't go out?" Mark sounded surprised.

"Not really. We go out for dinner and a few drinks every now and then, but like I said we like our home comforts." Patrick didn't want to talk about the church, he thought that it was best kept for another time.

"Well, whatever keeps you happy mate. I was thinking since I've just started we could go for a drink one night? Since we're going to be working together then might as well know who I'm
working with. What do you say?" Mark had a huge grin on his face that made Patrick think he wasn't going to take no for an answer.

I've never been on a night out without Jodie before,
Patrick thought to
himself.
That sounds ridiculous.

"Might do you both some good to do something separately," said Mark.

"Can I get back to you on that?"

"No bother mate,
don't mean to put under pressure. Just thought it would be good for team building," he laughed.

Patrick collected his jacket and wallet from the staff room and turned out the lights. As he approached the door Mark was stood outside the main entrance to the bar smoking a small cigar. William had already left earlier in the night and asked Patrick to lock up. He punched the digits into the alarms keypad and went outside.

"How you getting home?" he asked Mark.

"Taxi mate.
It's on its way. You?"

"Same. Just going to phone it now," Patrick took out his mobile phone from his jacket pocket. There were still people crowding the streets trying to order cabs and make their way home.

"I can drop you off if you want and we can split the fare?"

"Do you live far from Glasgow Harbour?" Patrick realised he didn't know.

"Not far," said Mark.

The taxi pulled up and Mark opened the door, cigar still in hand. The taxi driver called out from the front, "You can't smoke that in here mate!"

"Just putting it out now," he turned to Patrick. "You coming?"

"Yeah, why not?
Thanks." Patrick climbed in and the taxi began its journey to Patrick and Jodie’s flat.