The Christmas Killer (22 page)

Jake sat back from the computer. He looked up at Mills, who seemed as stunned as Jake felt. This was something new. He had known none of this about Harper. Surely someone could have filled him in?

‘Do you know much about Harper?’ he asked Mills.

‘Mitch? I’ve met him plenty of times,’ he replied. ‘I knew he was a bit of a horn dog, but I didn’t know
this
about him.’

Just then Dr Zatkin looked in.

‘I’ll have to move you guys. You’ve had plenty of time,’ she said. ‘You better not be touching that keyboard!’

‘No, ma’am,’ said Jake. ‘Ronnie, can you come in for a moment? Do you know Mitch Harper?’

She looked puzzled. ‘As much as anyone else does. Why do you ask?’

‘Can you tell me about him?’

She shrugged. ‘Trained as an attorney, qualified top of his class. He came home, set up a practice, married well and moved into politics. He got on to the city
council at his first try, the youngest member in twenty years. We thought he was a high-flyer.’

‘Thought?’ asked Jake.

‘His career stalled a few years ago,’ she explained.

‘Oh yeah,’ said Mills. ‘I remember that.’

‘People said he’d go for governor,’ Ronnie said, ‘and who knew what after that? He had that presidential air about him. But it all seemed to slow down for him about … four years ago.’

Jake looked at Mills. They knew why.

‘There was a scandal, wasn’t there?’ he said.

Ronnie looked puzzled. ‘I don’t think so. His career just seemed to go quiet for a while. He seems to be back on track now, though. They say he’ll be your next mayor.’ She came into the study and shooed them out. ‘Why’d you ask?’

‘It’s something we need to look into,’ Jake told her. ‘We’ll get out of your hair now.’

She turned to walk out of the room and Jake used the moment to close the screen of the laptop and pop out the power lead. He picked up the slim computer and draped his coat over his arm to conceal it. He followed Mills out of the building.

In the car they began putting the pieces together. An up-and-comer like Harper was at the time would have had the connections to make an assault charge disappear. Hospitals – especially private clinics – could be persuaded to turn a blind eye to a hooker’s broken nose. The whole thing could have gone away; but Chuck
Ford had found out about it. Maybe the woman had gone to him.

Jake opened the laptop, balancing it on the dashboard.

Mills saw what he had and his eyes widened. ‘You did not just take that!’

‘Keep your eyes on the road,’ Jake told him. ‘Park up round the corner.’

He picked a file at random as Mills pulled over. The file included the date of publication and the paper the article had appeared in. Then he went back to the ‘Harper Scandal’ file. There was no dateline and no publication. The article had not been published, which meant Ford had had a change of heart. Why? Had Harper got to him? Threatened him or bribed him? Most likely bribed, based on the look of the apartment. Ford was doing better than a simple hack journalist had any right to. Had he sold out?

If he did, he was a despicable prick
, thought Jake.

‘We need to locate Leanne Schultz. I wonder if she’s still in Indianapolis?’ he said to Mills.

‘Not any more,’ said Mills, holding up his phone to show a web page. ‘She was killed in a hit-and-run about three years ago.’

‘Of course she was.’ Jake tried not to smile, tried not to let himself believe that things might now be falling into place.

Harper had got rid of the prostitute. Got rid of his wife. He had got rid of a journalist who knew where
the skeletons were hidden. And he was offing others unconnected with him to make it look like a crazed serial killer was on the loose.

It might fit. But Marcia Lamb and Candy Jones were still a problem. Why them specifically? Harper was milking Marcia Lamb for all she was worth, politically. Was he really ruthless enough to kill a pretty young woman for a sound bite on single mothers and early-release programmes? Yes, he was. If he was ruthless enough to do what he had done to his wife, he was ruthless enough to kill Marcia Lamb. Candy – another prostitute – he had probably just enjoyed. And those killings provided great cover for the two killings he had really wanted to do.

‘I wonder, did he sleep with Candy too?’ Jake muttered.

You’re worse than a serial killer. You have no conscience.

To you, this is just work …

Zatkin had broken his balls over the laptop theft, but Jake convinced her they were both likely to face disciplinary action if it came out that he’d removed evidence from the crime scene. Anyway, he’d returned it to the house after copying all he need on to a memory stick.

Now Jake had new prey in his sights.

The plan was simple. They did not want this to look like an interrogation of a suspect, but at the same time they wanted Harper to be in no doubt that he was in the machine. The wheels were grinding. This was an initial interview; they wouldn’t let him know what was really up until they were sure they could nail him.

At City Hall Harper vacillated. He came down to meet Jake and Mills in the lobby and shook their hands. But once he had them in his office, he pulled his mouth tight with apparent regret. ‘Guys, I’ve told you everything I can about Belinda. I’d love to help more, but I have a meeting at three thirty that I’m prepping for, and I’m swamped with funeral arrangements. Can one of you drop by the house later? Say, after seven?’

‘I’m afraid not, sir,’ said Jake gently. ‘Your wife’s killer
has struck for a fourth time. Everything needs to be followed up urgently. You understand.’

There was a pause. Jake watched Harper’s eyes carefully.

‘OK,’ said the councilman. ‘I guess I can spare ten minutes.’

Jake put on his best apologetically sympathetic face. ‘We’re going to need a bit longer than that, sir – we can’t leave any stone unturned now. Public safety. We have a car waiting. We can bring you across to the station house, then return you here in time for your meeting.’

Harper sighed and ran his fingers through his hair. Then, with a single nod, he set about gathering his coat and briefcase.

‘We appreciate it, sir,’ said Jake, maintaining his sympathetic face as he quickly scanned the room. For what potential clue, he had no real idea. He was just working on a cop’s instinct.

Harper’s office wasn’t as grand as Jake had expected it to be. The room had been recently refurbished, painted white; the table was cheap and the chairs didn’t look comfortable. A picture of his wife was on his desk, but the walls were bare. Harper clearly didn’t plan on making this office any kind of home. He had his eye on another, more prestigious, space.

The mayor’s office.

‘We are so sorry to be pushing you at a time like this,’ Jake continued. Harper had his coat on by now, and was
fixing the cops with a gaze that was neither challenging nor submissive. Jake tried not to let his own eyes show that wheels were turning in his head, but he was thinking hard. Was Harper showing the signs of pathological dispassion necessary to commit the crimes the cops were investigating?

Jake made sure his face was all business and courtesy as he went on: ‘We let it go the past few days because your grief was so fresh, but we hope that you can face talking about your wife now. We really need to explore every aspect. Belinda was the second victim. With this sort of profile, the killers often move on to random victims – as appears to have happened in Littleton – but there is often a link, however tenuous, to the first few. We hope some small random detail might provide the clue to find the man we’re looking for.’

‘I understand,’ said Harper. Jake could see he was holding up better than might be expected. Today he was impeccably groomed. He looked like he had stepped off the cover of
GQ
. The waft of aftershave was almost effeminate. His eyes were clear. The traces of red were gone.

‘It’s not easy to talk about her yet,’ he went on. ‘Or even to think of a life without her. She was my rock.’

Jake thought that Belinda was more like Harper’s rocket right now. He was up twelve points since her death. Whatever the problems in their marriage, she had been a shot of political Red Bull to his campaign. But he dismissed the thought as uncharitable. Harper
irritated him, yes, and he was suddenly looking like a viable suspect – but Jake knew he had to keep an open mind as best he could. Because, whatever the councilman might think, this whole sad business was about more than Mitch Harper – there were three other victims with grieving families who deserved justice and closure.

‘Can’t we do this in one of the conference rooms here?’ Harper asked as they walked out of the door. ‘I haven’t been home since it happened. This place feels more like home to me after what that bastard did.’ As they walked past the front desk in the lobby, Jake caught the receptionist looking up at Harper with big puppy eyes. Harper’s grief and stoicism was playing very well to the gallery.

‘The station would be better for us,’ Jake said firmly.

A flicker of suspicion crossed Harper’s face, and he became blunt. ‘Why?’ he asked.

‘All our files are there. We can cross-check things immediately instead of putting them on the long finger and risk missing some important detail.’ He played his trump. ‘This is our job. We know how to do it best.’

There was no arguing that one, especially with the receptionist listening. Harper conceded by motioning for the detectives to continue leading the way.

Outside City Hall about a dozen journalists were waiting in the cold. There had been a few already there when they’d arrived, and Jake figured they’d put the
word out. The colonel was not going to be happy –
discretion
, he had urged.

One of the reporters stepped forward. ‘Detective, can you fill us in on the current leads? Is Councilman Harper now a suspect?’

Chief and only suspect
, Jake thought, but this had to be handled right. Ford might be gone, but his breed lived on. This was a herd that needed culling.

He knew he should have said, ‘No comment,’ but he gave one, as a way to let Harper think they were on his side. He also wanted to see if Harper might say something to land himself in the shit. ‘Councilman Harper has just lost his wife. He is helping us put together her final moments, to try and put her killer behind bars, where he belongs.’

Harper smiled weakly and addressed the reporters, who were so influential as to what the rest of the voting public thought: ‘I suppose I have to get used to this now.’

Jake eyed the councilman closely as he got in the car. He looked like he was already used to it. And he also looked like he didn’t exactly hate it.

‘Interview with Councilman Mitch Harper. Time: fifteen forty-five. Present: Councilman Harper, Detectives Austin and Mills of the Littleton Police Department,’ said Jake. They were seated in a triangle, the two detectives facing the suspect.

‘Hold on a minute,’ interrupted Harper. ‘Why is this being recorded?’

Jake wrestled the grimace away from his face. Harper had got suspicious before they had properly begun. Either he was a paranoid innocent man, or a very cautious guilty one. Either way, their interview had just become much more tricky.

With an effort, Jake smiled. ‘You are a person of interest because you are strongly linked to the case, but you are not a suspect.’ Jake left out the last word of that sentence – ‘officially’.

Harper relaxed and nodded.

‘We need to try and form a clear picture of what type of person Belinda was, and what she did with her life,’ Jake continued. ‘Then we can see if any of that intersects with our investigation.’

‘OK,’ Harper said.

‘You knew her from high school?’

‘No – yes. I knew her, but she was a few years behind me. Seniors didn’t mix with freshmen. But she was stunning, the head cheerleader when I was in senior year, so I knew her a bit. When I came back to town after college we met a few times, in bars and things. And we clicked. Eventually.’ He smiled ruefully. ‘I had to chase her. And I wasn’t the only one.’

Jake smiled back at him. ‘I never met her. What sort of woman was she?’

‘She could be a charmer. She had a way of wrapping men around her little finger. Back then guys were swarming around her like bees on a flower.’

‘And in later years?’

‘No, she didn’t encourage that. You won’t find any obsessed admirers in the closet,’ said Harper. ‘Her work took up most of her time and energy.’

‘I understood she didn’t work,’ said Jake.

‘Her
charity
work,’ Harper clarified. ‘She was on a lot of different committees – mainly educational, working with young single mothers and such.’ Jake felt his brow knit as he wondered if Marcia Lamb had been aided by such a committee. Could there be a connection between victim number one and victim number two?

‘She was the chair of the Carnegie Library Committee,’ Harper continued. ‘Belinda gave a lot to the community. And of course she worked for me. A politician’s wife can be a full-time job.’

Jake put his thoughts of connection to one side, making a mental note to pick them up again as soon as this interview was over. ‘Did you enjoy working with her?’

Harper paused to consider the question. ‘I don’t suppose I really worked
with
her. She was like part of the back-room team. She worked to support me, rather than working with me. But yes, I did enjoy it. She was a remarkable woman.’

Jake was frustrated – the dead were always mythologized. He needed an insight into the real person. ‘Working with someone, and living with them, you’d get to know them fairly well. Did you ever see any signs of – I don’t know – a temper?’

Harper looked surprised. ‘No.’

Jake looked at him. He let Harper be the one to break the silence. Let Harper acknowledge that
he
was the one made uncomfortable.

‘I suppose we all have our moments,’ he said. ‘Why do you ask?’

‘Routine. I’m just wondering if she might have had a fight with someone, something that could have triggered the attack. A possible revenge motive? Do you think that’s possible?’

‘No,’ said Harper, a little too fast. ‘Bella didn’t have a temper.’

Now Harper was using his pet name for her – that was a good sign. Jake smiled, inviting a confidence. ‘Come on – you were married all those years. Never a blow-out? She never lost it? Threw a vase?’

Harper laughed. ‘You’re married, I see. Yeah, there was the occasional fight. The usual stuff – silly things. I was out too late; I came home smelling of alcohol …’

And other women’s perfume?
Jake wondered.

‘She had a thing about my cigars, so I quit,’ Harper was saying. Then he added, ‘For her.’

Jake needed to rein him in ever so slightly. Harper feeling the need to impress upon the cops how much he did for his wife was not good – it showed that, at the very least, the councilman was feeling prickles of anxiety. He might not be convinced that he was in the frame – not just yet – but he was definitely conscious of the possibility … and he wanted to avoid it.

Jake couldn’t let this happen. Not before they were convinced, one way or the other. He had to keep it light – give a little to get a little. It was his turn now.

‘My wife is a lovely woman,’ he said. ‘I’d take a bullet for her. But she can nag like the best of them …’ Jake affected a chuckle. ‘Last week I came home from a late shift. I had stopped at a bar for a few beers. She threw a plate at me. Worst thing was, my dinner was on that plate!’

Harper laughed again. ‘I never had a plate
thrown
at me. But I got served the occasional plate of cold shoulder.’

Both men smiled. Jake’s smile was sympathetic, the friendly cop. Harper’s smile didn’t reach his eyes.

Jake tried again. ‘She’s Italian,’ he lied, feeling like a boxer peppering a well-drilled opponent with quick jabs, hoping to lure his guarding gloves down from his
chin, exposing it to a knockout punch. ‘She goes over the top sometimes. I took her out for dinner one night. Got a call from work and made the mistake of answering it. She walked out, drove home and left me stranded.’

‘Bella once cut holes in the seat of my suit pants,’ said Harper. ‘It was fifteen years ago. I was just starting out, and I had only two suits. And she destroyed one. I didn’t even realize until I was with some very prominent people. Thank God I wasn’t going commando, you know what I mean?’

Jake put on a sympathetic grimace. Then he offered a laugh like it was a great story. It kind of was. ‘You must have really pissed her off to get that kind of reaction.’

But he had pushed too fast. The shutters came down. ‘Like I said, we all have our moments. But Belinda is – was – great, and we could not have been happier.’

Back to ‘Belinda’.

‘I’m beginning to get a picture of her,’ Jake said, accordingly retreating to generalities – the boxer going back to the jab after missing an ambitious uppercut. ‘She was a strong woman.’

Harper nodded.

Jake jabbed again. ‘She could be a bit of a wildcat when she was upset. A lot of level-headed women can become a bit vindictive when they are upset.’

Harper said, ‘My dad always told me women are crazy by nature. What can you do?’

The jabs were not getting through. Harper’s guard was too solid. What bothered Jake was that Harper was
able to deflect and parry Jake’s questions. He didn’t know he was a suspect but he wasn’t taking the chance. Jake had interviewed dozens of grieving widowers and widows, mothers and brothers, and one thing they all had in common was that they got upset when they remembered their lost loved one. Harper was holding it together well – too well. He was too conscious of what he was saying, too aware of how his words might be interpreted – and this almost seemed as important to him as helping the police find his wife’s murderer.

Is it your political training, or am I looking at the face of a killer?

Time to find out.

‘It sounds as if Belinda could be quite volatile,’ said Jake, changing the angle of the jab and looking for Harper to give up simple parrying. He wanted him to try a little bobbing and weaving – maybe then he would step into the path of a haymaker. ‘Was this something she kept behind closed doors, or did it ever break out in public?’

Out of the corner of his eye he could see Mills shifting in his seat. He was already paying attention, but now he was even more alert and focused. Mills got it: Jake was subtly asking if Mitch and Belinda ever fought in public. Jake couldn’t ask this directly: he had no grounds for holding Harper and, once the word ‘lawyer’ was mentioned, the interview would be over.

Answer the
real
question
, Jake mentally urged Harper.
Did you guys fight a lot? Did she reserve her hostility for you, or did she spread it around?

‘We heard she had a minor altercation with a man named Guy Makowski a few weeks ago, and that in retaliation he kicked her car.’

Harper’s eyes went blank, but not before they flared to signal that something had clicked in his head. But whatever thought he had had, he was not going to share with the detectives. The shutters were down again, this time for good. Jake knew he was about to be sandbagged.

‘If there’s anything you feel you’d like to say, I’m listening,’ he pressed. ‘Any little detail could be crucial.’
And it will be bad for you if you conceal anything
. ‘This guy has killed twice more since he took Belinda from you,’ he added, wondering if he used the word ‘constituents’ he might get more play from the councilman. ‘And he’ll kill again, unless we catch him. Do you want that on your conscience?’

Harper just stared at him. There was defiance in his look. Then he slowly shook his head. ‘I have nothing more to say, Officer.’

‘Detective,’ Jake reminded him.

‘Apologies, Detective.’

There was a long silence shattered by the sound of Mills clearing his throat. ‘Who wants coffee?’ he said, clearly trying to lighten the tension. Barely waiting for a response from either man, Mills stood up from the table and left the room.

Left Jake and Harper alone together. Jake could feel his fist, under the table, beginning to clench. The councilman was holding something back. But what? Why
wasn’t he telling them everything when his wife’s killer was still on the loose?

‘So, are we done here?’ said Harper. ‘I think I’ve given you enough of my time.’

And then he smiled. It was the smile of a man who knew he could not be touched. Jake felt the burn spreading through his belly – this time it wasn’t just the ulcer.

‘We’re done when I say we’re done,’ he said. It came out stronger than he had intended.

‘Really? I was under the impression I was helping you with your inquiries,’ said Harper.

‘Four people have been killed. You need to be straight with us.’

‘And I have been.’ Harper leaned forward. ‘And now you need to do your job.’

‘Look—’ said Jake.

But the councilman cut him off. ‘No,
you
fucking look!’ He pointed his finger in Jake’s face and it took everything Jake had not to snap the finger in two. ‘If you’re threatening me, Detective, I want to tell you something—’

Mills came back into the room, mobile phone pressed to his ear. ‘You’re needed outside, Detective,’ he said to Jake. ‘Can we stop the interview for a few minutes?’

‘Fine by me,’ muttered Harper.

Jake got up and stormed out of the room, slamming the door on the way out.