The Christmas Killer (11 page)

A satisfying
plunk
sounded as the spoon dropped into the cup. He fished out the tea bag and put it on the saucer. Then he stirred in the milk and two spoons of sugar. He had considered a shot of Four Roses, but he found tea so calming. He needed calming. He was still high.

You planned this so well
, he thought.

They would have found her by now. It was well past ten. They might even have identified her. When they did, they would be stunned. Struck dumb. Clueless as to how to proceed. Big, smart detectives trying to second-guess the motives of a man of far superior intelligence.

When he knocked, she had opened the door for him. Unbelievable. She had let him into the house. But then something spooked her. It might have been the look in his eyes as he tried to engage her in conversation. The determination in them – had she seen it? Perhaps she just knew on some level that she was finally going to get what she deserved.

She hadn’t run right away. She had slowly backed away from him.

‘You knocked over the phone, Mrs Harper,’ he had said. Then she was running up the stairs. She had made it so easy. If she had gone into the kitchen and out to the backyard she might have made it to a neighbour’s house.

And then how would I have continued with my work?

He smiled as he remembered, sipping the tea and slowly feeling a sense of peace suffusing him.

She was fast, I’ll give her that. She made it up those stairs well ahead of me. She threw the mirror but she was clumsy and missed. Bad luck. She went down the landing, but that was a mistake. It was a dead end. She had nowhere to go.

She just stood there outside the door, looking at me. Terrified but still brazen. Even the way she was standing as she looked at me – she deserved it. I walked slowly towards her, and she stood there. Right up to the moment I reached out and touched her cheek. She jumped then. She got into the bedroom and nearly got the door locked.

‘Please don’t do this! Why are you doing this?’
She’d screamed the words. Pathetic!

The door wasn’t going to keep me out. She got the bolt home but she never got to turn the key. My second kick sent her flying back into the room. She had no place to run. But she didn’t give up easily. She picked up the chair and swung. So brave, so determined to stay alive.

He grimaced as he remembered the big weal on his arm where the leg of the chair had made contact. He had only allowed her one swing. Then he had wrenched the chair from her grasp.

She looked stunned when I hit her with it and she finally shut up. I hit her hard. I drew blood. It sprayed and some of it hit me on the face. I never knew I would actually like the feel of it … the taste of it. The second blow put her on the ground. The chair broke when I hit her for the third time. But it didn’t matter. I could see it in her eyes. She wasn’t going to struggle any more. She was out.

So I went down to the car and brought up the crusher. I fixed myself a cup of tea and waited for her to wake up.

That was when the fun began.

When they returned to the station the place was quiet. Jake understood why. He could see through the blinds into the colonel’s office. Harper was there, his head in his hands as sobs racked his body. There was something unnerving about such naked, unselfconscious displays of grief, and Jake wished there was some other way to take the investigation.

Harper was still wearing his black overcoat, and there was an untouched coffee in front of him. No steam wafted from the surface. It had been there a while. The colonel was sitting silently behind his desk. When he spotted Jake and Mills he stood up and came out.

‘She was killed in the house?’ he asked.

Jake nodded once in the affirmative, then aimed a second nod at Harper. ‘How’s he holding up?’

How would I hold up if it was Leigh?

From somewhere in the room a tinny blast of Christmas music made everyone jump. Jake saw one of the admin staff fumbling for her mobile phone and switching it to silent; he knew she’d curse her choice of ringtone until well after New Year’s.

Asher glared at the unlucky soul for a long second, then turned back to Jake. ‘He’s devastated. But he was capable of focusing when I asked him a few questions. I’ll type up a report as soon as he’s out of here.’

‘I really need to talk to him myself,’ said Jake.

The colonel looked at him. ‘I suppose you do. At least don’t march him down to the interview room. Keep it gentle.’

‘Yes, sir.’

Jake and Mills walked into the office. Jake sat in the colonel’s chair. He saw Mills’s look of annoyance as he took one of the canteen chairs still there from the morning meeting. Harper seemed smaller, barely filling his expensive suit. His reddened eyes seemed to burn within his pale face.

This was difficult. Yesterday Jake had begun the interview with Sonny fairly certain that he was a viable suspect. So they had gone in hard. Today he didn’t figure Harper for a double killer, and he trusted his instincts. So he was going to be a lot softer, more sympathetic.

He leaned forward on the desk. ‘Councilman?’ Harper looked up, his eyes watery. ‘I’m sorry for your loss.’

‘Call me Mitch.’ His hand reached out instinctively – a politician to the core – but his grip was limp, weak. He was going through the motions, on autopilot.

‘I’m sorry to do this, Mitch. I know it’s a bad time, but I have to ask you some questions. Anything you can tell me and Detective Mills now could help catch your wife’s killer. We need to catch him fast, before he does this again.’

‘I understand.’

‘We’ll start at the beginning, and I’m sorry if we repeat questions you’ve already been asked. We just have to get everything clear. Did you know of anyone who might wish your wife harm? Enemies, people she fought with, anyone like that?’

Harper’s face registered surprise. ‘She was such a warm, giving person. Everyone loved her.’

Jake saw a flicker cross Mills’s face, but he said nothing.

‘When did you last see your wife?’

‘I had dinner with her last night, then we watched some TV. That English thing about King Henry. She … loved that.’ His shoulders shook, but he managed to get a grip on himself and looked at the two detectives.

‘And after?’

Harper hesitated, but Jake already knew some of the answer. The two-day-old shirt told its own tale.

‘You didn’t spend last night with your wife?’ he prodded gently.

Harper looked at his feet. When he answered his voice was small.

‘No, I didn’t.’ He looked down for a moment, and when he looked up he didn’t meet the investigators’ eyes. He went on in a low voice: ‘I had to go out around ten, to meet a campaign sponsor. I had a few beers with him, so I decided not to drive home. I slept in my office. The campaign headquarters office, not the City Hall
one. I have a little pull-out bed there. I often sleep over when I’m working late. Election year and all.’

It was a lie. Harper had volunteered too much detail. But Jake still had to go through the motions. In any case, it was not a crime to lie about your whereabouts.

‘We’ll need the details of the man you met,’ said Jake. He would be able to confirm what time Harper had been out, but that still left a full night with no supported alibi. Quite convenient.

‘That’s not a problem,’ said Harper. ‘But I’ll have to call him first, to square it with him.’ He fixed the detectives with a stern, patronizing stare as he explained: ‘I know this is a murder investigation, but these guys donate big sums, and they expect a certain amount of discretion.’

Unbelievable. Your wife has been murdered, and you’re playing politics
. But Jake said nothing.

Harper was sniffling again, the tears never far from the surface. He took a linen hanky out of his suit pocket and dabbed his face. It was all very affecting.
A bit too affecting
, thought Jake. He had sympathy for the man, but somehow he felt the emotion was being displayed. Harper was genuinely grieving, but at the same time he was
aware
of his pain and playing it to the hilt. He and Belinda had been the perfect power couple, and now Mitch would be the perfect widower. Jake felt it was all a bit impersonal. Political grief. But he had to admit the guy was good.

The cameras would love it.

‘At your earliest convenience,’ said Jake. He was
beginning to tire of the bullshit, but what could he do? Some day Harper might be his boss.

The councilman was sobbing now. He held his head in his hands, and the tears flowed freely.

‘If only I had gone home,’ he railed, clenched fist raised like he was going to pound the desk. Then he stopped and let it slowly ease down on to the wood. Every gesture calculated, almost practised. That he was able to be so deliberate mid-sob was nothing short of impressive. Jake wondered if it could also be classed as sinister. ‘I wasn’t drunk. I could have driven. Then she might still be with me.’

Jake had no answer to that. He was saved by the sudden arrival of Sara. The bubbly receptionist was smiling as she looked into the office.

‘There’s a visitor for you, Detective Austin,’ she said.

She looked at the sobbing Harper, and a look of maternal concern crossed her face.

‘Excuse me, Councilman.’ Jake got up and went out of the door. Mills followed.

Jake closed it behind him so that Harper could be alone.

Sara looked up at Jake, and a miniature smile was still hovering over her eyes. She whispered, trying to keep it for Jake alone. ‘He says he’s here to confess.’ She giggled.

Jake could feel his blood pressure rising. And that ulcer, the one whose ass he thought he’d kicked, released its acidy sensation into his stomach.

Jake tightened his jaw and ground his teeth. He followed Sara down the corridor to where Johnny Cooper was waiting for him at the front desk, looking as dishevelled as on the previous day. He had a hangdog face, and he was fidgeting with a pack of cigarettes.

‘Detective Austin,’ he began, ‘I need to speak to you in private.’

‘I’m a bit tied up at the moment, Johnny,’ said Jake.

‘Belinda Harper, I know. That’s what I need to talk to you about.’

‘Sorry, buddy, I don’t have the time.’

Jake had felt sorry for Johnny yesterday, but today the nut bag was adding to his stress levels, bringing up the acidic prickles in his belly. But Johnny wasn’t smart enough to pick up on Jake’s mood.

‘I think you need to talk to me,’ he said. ‘You see, I did it. I killed her. The rage came on me again, because of the moon, so I went out and I killed her. She was walking round the construction site on her own. She was asking for it. I need help. I need to be locked away for the good of everyone.’ Johnny dropped the pack of cigarettes on
the desk and put his head in his hands. He began to weep. ‘You could have stopped this,’ he mumbled into his hands. ‘Why didn’t you arrest me yesterday?’

‘I think you need to stop walking around construction sites at night,’ replied Jake. He tried to keep his voice gentle, like how he spoke to Faith when she was in one of her moods. ‘You don’t need to keep coming in like this.’

‘Are you going to arrest me now?’

Jake shared a look with Sara, who was pretending that her keyboard was the most interesting object in the world, then turned back to Johnny.

‘If you just go down to the interview room, I’ll have one of the guys come down in a while and take a statement from you. You know your way. Better still, why don’t you get yourself a coffee and go home. I’ll have one of the guys swing by later and you can tell him all about it.’

Jake reached into his pocket and took out a ten, which he tried to press into Johnny’s hand. But Johnny pushed the bill away. He reached forward and grabbed Jake’s jacket lapel.

‘I need someone to talk to me!’ he shouted. ‘Don’t put me back out there.’

Jake’s frustration was growing, and this was all being played out in public. He took Johnny’s hand and snapped it from his lapel, then looked the man straight in the eye.

‘I’ve got it. You killed her. But we have procedures,’
he said in a low, firm voice. ‘You go home, I’ll send a guy out. It’s the best I can do. I won’t let you down.’

The two men stared at each other for a moment, then Johnny broke eye contact.

‘Thank you,’ said Johnny, seeming to relax. ‘I needed to get it off my chest. Make sure someone comes by. I don’t want to kill any more women.’

Jake took him by the shoulder and led him out the door and watched him shuffle down the steps and away. Sara, who had followed the exchange with growing amusement, giggled again.

Jake rounded on her. ‘There’s a man there who’s just lost his wife,’ he hissed. ‘What the fuck were you thinking, disturbing me in the middle of an interview with this shit?’

‘Aw, c’mon. It was a bit of fun,’ she gulped.

‘This isn’t a barroom brawl we’re investigating! If it’s so fucking funny, why don’t you go into the colonel’s office and explain the joke to our new widower. What were you—’

When he saw the tears welling up in her eyes, he realized that he was towering over her in a very threatening manner. He was scaring her and he was out of control. Worse still, he didn’t feel the least bit bad about it. With difficulty he took a step back and got himself under control.

‘Sara, don’t …’ But he tailed off. There was no way to finish that sentence that would leave him satisfied so he turned from her and walked back inside. ‘Just get back to work,’ he said.