The Killer Inside: A gripping serial killer thriller (Detective Jessica Daniel thriller series Book 1) (13 page)

A
s Jessica suspected
, a catch-up drink with Harry never happened. The court broke for lunch shortly after she’d given her evidence and Harry had already left by the time the prosecuting lawyer finished speaking with her. There was every chance he didn’t remember their conversation from Saturday. She hadn’t smelled it on him but, given everything that had happened, maybe he had been lost to drink? He wouldn’t be the first police officer to have succumbed.

Back at the station, everyone was already fully aware of how her court appearance had gone. The desk sergeant’s usual source, whoever it was, had apparently been spot-on about her showdown with Peter Hunt and everyone was well aware that, while she hadn’t lost her temper and blown it, Hunt had got the better of her. Feeling in the mood to take her frustrations out on somebody, she tracked down Rowlands in the canteen. He was sitting at one of the tables chatting to the now not-so-new girl from uniform he’d reckoned he was taking out the previous week.

The girl laughed at whatever Rowlands was saying as Jessica slotted in next to him, opposite the female officer. She was young, blonde and good-looking, enjoying being a member of the police force. The enjoyment wouldn’t take long to disappear. Eighteen months, maximum.

‘You should watch this one,’ Jessica told the girl, nodding towards Rowlands. ‘I’ve heard that a lot of the girls he’s ended up with complain of feeling a bit “itchy” down below.’

‘Hey!’ Rowlands replied.

The girl didn’t seem too fussed. ‘I’ve not had any of that.’

Jessica rolled her eyes and shook her head, nodding towards Rowlands again. ‘I need a few minutes with him.’

The female officer took the hint and clambered up. ‘See you later?’ she asked.

‘I’ll text you.’

The girl scuttled off, beaming.

‘Poor girl,’ Jessica said to the constable, now they were alone.

‘What?’ he responded, with put-on indignation and a big grin.

‘Whenever you do muck
her
about, can you try not to muck her
career
about?’

‘What makes you think…?’ Rowlands started, but Jessica raised her eyebrows. ‘Yeah, all right,’ he conceded. ‘I thought you were in court all day?’

‘I’ve done that, now I’m back.’

‘What do you want me for?’

‘You remember your magician mate?’

‘Yeah.’

‘As I’m off the clock, I thought it would be as good a time as any to find out what the weirdo’s got to add.’

‘I’ll have to check he’s free.’

‘How busy can he possibly be?’

I
t hadn’t taken long
for Rowlands to establish his friend wasn’t over-encumbered with work and was happy to see them that afternoon. Jessica told DS Reynolds she was going to be out for the afternoon but didn’t say where, making sure she reminded Rowlands to keep his mouth shut too. He insisted they go in his car, saying he didn’t want to risk breaking down on the way if they went in hers.

‘Haven’t you got any original material?’ Jessica asked.

‘You’re the gift that keeps on giving.’

‘At least I don’t drive some souped-up GTI twat-mobile.’

Rowlands’ vehicle was exactly what she would have expected it to be: a smallish car that had been upgraded with any number of overpriced ridiculous parts.

‘And you take the piss out of
my
exhaust?’ Jessica said as he started up the engine. His sounded as loud as hers, if not worse.

‘Mine’s deliberate.’

Rowlands’ magician friend lived in a flat above a bookmakers’ shop in the Stockport area of the city. They went around the back of the bookies’ and the constable buzzed the intercom. The main door unlocked itself and Jessica followed Rowlands up the stairs to the inner door. As they reached the top and were let into the hallway, the first thing she saw was an enormous stuffed tiger’s head hanging above the door, facing them as they walked in.

‘Oh yeah, he’s into taxidermy too,’ Rowlands said, as if that explained everything.

The man who greeted them was thin, with shoulder-length long brown hair. He was dressed in jeans and a T-shirt with some pattern Jessica didn’t recognise. He was also wearing a watch on each wrist and odd shoes. One was a bright white trainer, the sort in which a person might go running; the other was blue, and made of some kind of canvas material.

He greeted Rowlands with a hug and an, ‘All right, Dave?’ He also hugged Jessica. At first, she thought she would push him away but then she let him hug her, without reciprocating. She gave him a slight tap on the back as if to say, ‘All right, that’s enough’, but he was already in the process of letting go and hopped away, almost skipping through the door underneath the tiger’s head. Rowlands was following him, so Jessica shrugged and did the same.

The room they walked into was seemingly the living room. At first it didn’t look as if there was anywhere to sit, only an assortment of throws and beanbags. The room was dark, with big thick curtains pulled at the back of the room and the only light coming from a selection of small electric lamps that looked like candles placed around the floor. There was a large, elaborate chandelier on the ceiling but it was either turned off or didn’t work.

The room was surrounded by tall, heavy-looking bookshelves, most of which were packed with hardbacks. On one of the shelves was something that looked decidedly like a stuffed chicken. Jessica was going to ask if it
was
a chicken but figured she didn’t particularly want to know.

Most living rooms had some kind of central point – people pointed their furniture towards a television or something like a fireplace or fish tank. This room seemed to have nothing like that, not that there was any furniture anyway. There was certainly no TV, and the only thing potentially central was a large round white shaggy rug.

The whole flat smelled faintly of a substance Jessica would assume was incense but certainly had the air of something decidedly more illegal. She figured she would let it go… Unless this guy really annoyed her.

The magician literally jumped onto one of the beanbags and sprawled himself out, bobbing up and down before arranging himself into a cross-legged sitting position. Rowlands seemingly thought nothing of this behaviour and sat on another beanbag on the other side of the rug. With little other option, Jessica sat on a different beanbag.

Rowlands was smiling, enjoying her discomfort, but Jessica didn’t want to admit she felt out of her depth, so asked the obvious: ‘What’s your name, then?’ She thought it was a simple enough question, but the response made her less sure.

‘Francis – but you can call me Hugo. Everyone else does.’

They had been there for less than two minutes but, not for the first time, Jessica was taken aback. How could those two names be in the slightest bit connected?

As if reading her mind, he added, ‘Hugo’s my stage name.’

‘Are you on stage often?’

‘Life’s a stage, don’t you think?’

Jessica tried not raise her eyebrows, but out of the corner of her eyes she could see Rowlands smiling. She ignored Hugo’s response, but shot the constable a look to let him know they would be having words later. ‘Okay then, erm, Hugo, Detective Constable Rowlands says you may have some information that could help our investigation?’ She wanted to add,
I personally doubt that very much, you mental case
, but held her tongue.

‘Can I show you something first?’

‘I’d rather you didn’t.’

Rowlands took that moment to chip in. ‘He’s good, y’know.’

Jessica rolled her eyes. ‘All right, whatever, go on.’

She was trying not to be sarcastic or obviously hostile but had felt her tone slip with that.

‘Okay, hold this,’ Hugo pulled an orange out from his pocket and tossed it towards her.

Jessica hadn’t realised what was happening but caught the fruit one-handed. If she hadn’t, it would have smacked her square in the face. Hugo wasn’t looking. He had leapt to his feet, motioning for Rowlands to do the same. Jessica remained sitting on the beanbag, feeling more and more uncomfortable.

‘How much money have you got on you?’ Hugo asked.

Rowlands fiddled through his pockets, pulling out his wallet. He opened one of the flaps and turned it upside down into his hands. A few coins fell out and he snatched a couple of notes from the main part. He counted it all back into the correct place.

‘Thirty pounds and eighty-two pence,’ he said.

Hugo nodded along. ‘Good, good. And you, Miss, er, Detective?’

Jessica didn’t need to check. ‘I’ve only got a tenner.’ She didn’t bother with change and only ever kept notes and cards in her purse.

Hugo kept nodding. ‘Good, good.’ He turned back to Rowlands. ‘How much is that in total, Dave?’

The magician’s friend obviously didn’t need much time to think. ‘Forty eighty-two, I guess.’

‘Hmm, sounds about right.’ Hugo plopped himself back onto his beanbag before instantly leaping to his feet again. ‘Tea?’ he asked, turning from Jessica to Rowlands and then back again.

‘I’m fine,’ Jessica replied, confused.

‘Me too,’ confirmed the constable.

‘I fancy some tea.’ Hugo exited the living room before either of them could object.

Jessica was still holding the orange but, with the magician out of the room, looked to Dave. ‘What are we doing?’ she asked.

‘I don’t know yet.’

She nodded towards the shelf. ‘Is that a real chicken?’

‘Probably. I told you, he likes taxidermy. I don’t think the tiger’s real.’

Jessica continued to shoot her colleague dirty looks while looking around the rest of the bizarre room. She thought there was something that looked like a stuffed rat or mouse on one of the other shelves.

A couple of minutes later, Hugo re-entered carrying a tray. On it was a small metal teapot with steam coming from the spout and three china teacups on individual saucers. Each was white with a flowery pattern. It was the kind of set somebody’s grandmother might own. Hugo set the tray down in the middle of the white rug in between them. ‘Right, tea,’ he said.

Jessica started to remind him she didn’t want any, but figured it wouldn’t do much good.

‘I like mine with a hint of orange,’ he added. ‘Have you ever had it like that?’ He was looking directly at Jessica.

‘No.’

‘Could you peel that for me?’ He was indicating the orange still in her hand.

‘Okay…’

Hugo threw her a handkerchief and Jessica started to peel the fruit, putting the pieces of skin into a nearby bin. As a kid, she’d always tried to peel the skin off in one piece. Here, she didn’t care, tearing small strips off and tossing them away. When it was complete, she glanced back at the magician, who stared at her. ‘Can you squeeze a few drops into the pot?’

She was pretty much past caring what this obvious madman asked her to do. She got to her feet and crossed to the tray. Hugo removed the teapot’s lid and Jessica gently squeezed the fruit, allowing a few drops to fall into the pot. As she did so, she noticed something solid in the centre of the orange. She looked at the magician sitting on the floor in front of her, who had an expectant grin on his fact. Jessica pulled the segments of the orange apart and could now see something that looked like a small poker chip. She pulled it out and set the orange down on the tray. The chip was round and black, but on it was imprinted a pound sign, four digits and a decimal point.

‘£40.82’

She looked at Hugo, who was grinning smugly, and then at Rowlands, tossing him the piece of plastic. He caught it and looked at the number before exploding into laughter. ‘That is mental,’ he said.

Hugo didn’t say anything but continued to smile. Jessica had to admit it was impressive. ‘I’ve seen better,’ she said.

Rowlands was still laughing. ‘Love it, mate. Love it.’

Jessica let the mood settle. ‘Okay, can we do what we came here for?’

Hugo had a knowing smile on his face but nodded. ‘What would you like to know?’

Jessica didn’t want to go into too much detail about the case. Rowlands was still giggling to himself and rolling the chip around in his hand.

‘What do you know about getting in and out of somewhere that is completely locked?’ Jessica asked.

Hugo nodded, taking her question in. He looked straight at her and she noticed that he was quite a good-looking guy, despite his frame and weirdness.

‘With any act of illusion, the obvious answer is almost certainly the correct one,’ he said. ‘Nobody can walk through walls or disappear from one spot and reappear in another. As an entertainer, my job is to make you think I can.’

‘But how…?’ Jessica started.

‘When you’re watching someone perform, it’s not what you
do
see that matters, it’s what you
don’t
see. Is someone really flying just because you can’t see the wires holding them?’

‘But I know a man can’t fly. I know somebody can’t walk through walls.’

‘We all know what a human being can and can’t do. The art of illusion is to make you question that. Look at me. What are the first things you noticed?’

Jessica rescanned him but knew what she was going to say. ‘You’re wearing two watches and odd shoes.’

‘Exactly and while you’re busy looking at my feet and wrists you’re missing far more fundamental things.’

Jessica finally got it. ‘So you’re saying we’re overlooking something straightforward?’

‘I don’t know – but I
do
know that with anything that looks impossible, the obvious answer is almost certainly the correct one.’

R
owlands drove
them both back to the station, still crowing about his friend’s trick. He had kept the poker chip as a memento. Jessica remembered what Hugo had told her. The shoes and the watches were misdirection. She didn’t know how he had done the trick, but did feel as if she had learned something from him.

Was the mystery way the person had got into and out of the houses part of the misdirection? While the police were focusing on the method of the murders, they were not concentrating on whoever had actually committed the crime.

Hugo’s words stuck in her mind as the week went on. The two people who had been given the task of linking the victims were reassigned, as Jessica took the job herself. She took the files of Yvonne Christensen and Martin Prince home each evening, hoping something would occur to her which others had somehow missed. She went back over the notes of the interviews with the victims’ families and friends and rechecked things such as bank and phone records. She even checked where the victims had gone to school, to see if they’d unknowingly known each other.

Nothing.

In the meantime, Caroline’s relationship with Randall had turned serious and they were now sleeping over at either Randall’s flat or theirs every night. Caroline asked whether Jessica minded, but it was a bit late. Jessica wouldn’t have objected even if she had minded; she was pleased her friend was happy. Caroline said that Randall’s flat was a bit basic and theirs was much nicer, so they spent more time at Caroline and Jessica’s. Jessica, meanwhile, was allowing herself to be engulfed by work. She would leave the flat early and either come home late, or return with the two files she knew off by heart. She had phoned Harry the evening after meeting Hugo but he had not answered. She also texted Garry Ashford that night.

‘I owe you.’

In many ways, the week had gone well. Her court appearance was out of the way and the embarrassment over what had happened in the incident room the previous weekend was forgotten. Somehow, she was also off the hook over her relationship with the media. The irony was that she hadn’t spoken to the papers when she
was
under suspicion, but now that she actually
had
talked to Garry Ashford, she was not in any trouble at all. It was odd how things worked out.

Of course there was one major problem: the investigation was still going precisely nowhere and even the press were bored now. Since visiting Sandra Prince after her release from hospital, Jessica had phoned the woman twice more. She wanted to let the victim’s wife know she was trying her best. Each time they talked, Jessica could hear the devastation in Sandra’s voice. She said nice things and wished her well, but Jessica felt guilty for her own lack of progress.

Caroline had noticed her friend’s isolation and said she wanted to do something to cheer her up. Jessica repeatedly said no – but eventually relented. Caroline had arranged a dinner party at their house, wanting to show Randall what a good cook she was. Not content with cooking for two, she’d insisted Jessica be there too, while Randall had invited one of his friends along.

It was unquestionably a sneaky way of getting her on a date of sorts, but Jessica couldn’t be bothered arguing. As promised, she had returned from the station ‘on time’ – which was, of course, a little late. As she entered the flat, she smelled something inviting drifting from their kitchen. She yelled, ‘Hi!’

Caroline walked into the hallway, squealing, ‘You’re back!’

‘I’m back.’

‘Do you want to… get changed, or anything?’

‘Nope.’

Since going into plain clothes, Jessica had spent most evenings still wearing her work suits. It was a habit that went all the way back to school, where she would stay in her uniform from the moment she got dressed in the morning to the moment she got ready for bed in the evening. She wasn’t bothered about making an impression on whomever Randall’s friend happened to be.

‘Can you watch the stove while
I
get changed?’ Caroline asked.

‘What do I have to do?’

‘Make sure it doesn’t boil over.’

Even with her limited culinary skills, Jessica felt she could manage that. She put her bag and shoes down inside the living room door on top of the two files. Caroline went off to her room as Jessica entered the kitchen.

Jessica had never bothered to learn how to use the cooker. Her instruments of choice lay on the counter top next to it: a toaster and microwave. Those, and the phone, for pizza and curry deliveries.

She wasn’t completely sure what was in the pan but it looked potatoey and smelled good, as did whatever was in the oven.

Their flat had two bedrooms and a reasonable-sized living room, but the kitchen had to double up as a dining room as necessary. Most of the time, they ate from their laps in the living room.

There was a small table in the kitchen with a wobbly leg and Jessica sat there now, fiddling with her phone, deliberately rocking the table and checking a few websites, plus reading an email from her mum. Her parents had had the Internet installed a few years previously but it was only recently that they had begun to get to grips with its possibilities. With Jessica so busy and their phone calls becoming less frequent, her mum had taken to emailing. Her dad still wasn’t too taken with technology, so her mother would write on behalf of them both.

The doorbell went and Jessica heard Caroline calling, ‘Can you get it?’

As Jessica opened the door, Randall gave her a big grin, a hug and a, ‘Hi.’ He kissed her on the cheek as his friend followed him in. Jessica closed the door behind them and turned around, noticing the other guy for the first time. He was a little taller than her, with short black hair and a nicely trimmed stubbly beard. He was wearing fashionable dark blue jeans and a nice loose-fitting linen shirt. It had an extra button undone at the top and his thick, dark chest hair was visible. He had a cheeky-looking grin already on his face as he eyed her nervously, keeping his hands in his pockets.

‘This is Ryan,’ Randall said.

They each offered awkward nods.

‘You’re probably better off waiting in the living room,’ Jessica said. ‘Caz is still getting changed and I’m on kitchen duty.’

Jessica returned to the kitchen but soon heard Caroline’s bedroom door open and then the hello’s from the other room. Her friend then came back into the kitchen. Caroline was now in a low-cut red cocktail dress with heels, and had her hair tied up away from her face. She was adult and sophisticated, leaving Jessica feeling a bit silly in her work outfit.

‘You look great,’ Jessica said.

Caroline gave a half-curtsey. ‘Thank you – do you reckon Randall will like it?’

‘He does have eyes.’

‘Did you say hello to Ryan?’

‘Yes.’

‘What do ya reckon?’

‘Of what?’

Caroline looked sideways at her friend. ‘You know. What do you
reckon
?’

Jessica smiled. ‘He’s okay.’

‘Do you know he’s a vet?’

‘So?’

‘Y’know. Good with his hands, cares for animals, nice guy.’

Jessica ignored the insinuation. ‘When’s tea?’

‘Soon. Go say hello to the boys.’

‘Fine – but let’s open the wine first.’

Jessica went into the living room with drinks for everyone. Randall and Ryan were watching a show about American truckers. It wasn’t the kind of programme she would usually have sat through. Randall was in the reclining seat, giving Jessica little option but to sit next to Ryan on the sofa. She would have to have words with Caroline when they were next alone. If she and Randall were going to try to fix her up with someone, they should at least try to be more subtle about it.

‘Tea won’t be long, apparently,’ she said.

‘I’ll go see how Caz is getting on,’ Randall replied, standing and heading off to the kitchen.

Be more obvious, why don’t you,
Jessica thought, but said nothing. She suddenly found the television programme incredibly interesting, but noticed Ryan looking at her and gave him a half-smile.

Ryan was smiling back at her. He really did have a boyish grin. ‘So,’ he said, ‘is it “Jess” or “Jessica”?’

‘Either, I don’t mind.’

‘Okay then, Jess, Randy says you work for the police?’

‘Yeah… Er, “Randy”?’

‘It started off as a bit of a joke but it kind of stuck.’

‘How do you know him?’

‘From out and about. Nowhere special.’ There was an awkward pause. ‘He’s a nice guy. He likes your mate a lot.’

‘He’d better.’

‘I’m not sure he’s really had a girlfriend before.’

‘Really?’

‘I’ve never seen him go around with someone like he does Caroline.’

Another bout of quiet was broken only by the sound of the TV. ‘So… Police, then?’ Ryan tried again.

‘Yes.’

‘What is it you do?’

‘I’m in CID.’

‘Oh, are you…? Oh yeah. You were in the papers, “The Houdini Hunter”.’

Jessica sighed. ‘That bloody headline… Yeah, something like that.’

‘That’s pretty cool. You’re famous.’

‘Not really.’

Ryan’s small talk was beginning to break Jessica’s apathy. She didn’t like that Caroline and Randall had more or less forced her into the situation, and she didn’t make a habit of chatting to anyone about her job, but there was something about Ryan. He was persistent at least.

Jessica could barely believe she was saying the words, ‘I hear you’re a vet.’

She didn’t even really like animals and had never been impressed by what people’s jobs were. In the course of being a police officer, she had come across despicable people with terrific professions and lovely people who earned terrible money doing jobs they only did to keep their families afloat. She judged people by their actions, not by their wealth, name or occupation.

‘I work at a practice in the centre,’ Ryan said. ‘Only passed out a few months ago and was lucky to get a job so quickly.’

‘So, you like animals then?’

‘It kinda comes with the job.’ They both laughed but it had been a stupid question. Jessica would have been embarrassed if she had asked something so silly in an interview room. There, she felt natural, but here, trying to talk to someone normal, felt alien.

‘How long have you been with the police?’ Ryan asked.

‘Seven or eight years. Two and a bit in uniform, two training as a detective, then three or so since then.’

‘Do you enjoy it?’

A shrug. ‘I don’t know. Sometimes.’ Jessica felt vulnerable admitting that. She did enjoy it, of course. The wins, the results, the convictions. She didn’t enjoy the inertia and frustration, the acquittals and failures. She wasn’t having fun at the moment.

She could feel Ryan eyeing her, almost analysing her discomfort. It was broken by Caroline’s voice from the kitchen. ‘Tea’s up.’

The dining table was fairly small for four of them but the meal was fabulous. It made a change from Jessica’s usual diet of takeaways and microwaved food. The first course was some type of potato balls with a tomato sauce. The main course was a fish and rice dish, while dessert was a fully homemade cheesecake. A truly terrific effort: far, far beyond Jessica’s capabilities. They all thanked Caroline for her work and Jessica volunteered to do the dishes. It wasn’t something she would usually do but her friend had put so much energy into the evening, while she had come home and been a bit grumpy.

Caroline and Randall went to relax in the living room. Jessica had now taken to calling her friend’s boyfriend Randy now she knew about the nickname. The poor guy seemed a little embarrassed by it, but it was all in good humour.

Perhaps unsurprisingly, Ryan hung around in the kitchen to help out too. Jessica found herself not minding. ‘Your mate can’t half cook,’ Ryan said.

‘She’s always been a top chef.’

‘Can you?’

‘Cook? Yeah. Beans on toast or Pot Noodle and there’s no better chef.’ She gave Ryan a grin. At some point, another button on his shirt had come undone. Maybe it was the wine. His eyes were dark and friendly.

Jessica washed the dishes while Ryan dried, before they realised they hadn’t thought it through, seeing as he didn’t know where anything went. Jessica wasn’t entirely sure where all the pots went, either – but she at least had a better chance of getting it right than Ryan did.

They made more small talk and laughed to each other. Jessica finished another glass of wine and opened a further bottle from the selection they kept under the sink. ‘Emergency alcohol’, they called it. When they had finished clearing up, Jessica took the bottle into the living room with Ryan. Randall was still in the recliner, Caroline cuddled across his lap, short dress riding around her thighs. Jessica refilled her friend’s glass and went to sit on the sofa next to Ryan. She wasn’t complaining this time.

‘You’re getting on well, then?’ Caroline suggested, twinkle in her eye. Jessica and Ryan looked at each other and smiled, but neither answered.

‘We’re going to go to bed,’ Caroline said. ‘Thanks for the company this evening.’ She climbed off her boyfriend’s lap and helped haul him to his feet. ‘See you tomorrow, Jess. Have a
fun
night.’ As she went to leave the room, she leaned over and kissed her friend on the forehead, before departing hand in hand with Randall.

Jessica fumbled for the remote and turned the television on. Her late-night talk-show rerun was beginning.

‘Ha, you watch this, too?’ Ryan said.

‘Not really.’

‘Me neither.’

They both laughed and Jessica edged closer to their guest on the sofa.

‘So, do you reckon he’s the father?’ Ryan asked, gesturing to the man on screen.

Jessica smiled. ‘Course he is.’

They joked and enjoyed the show together, but Jessica spent more and more time watching Ryan. He had a little crinkle around the corner of his eye when he smiled – and he seemed to smile a lot.

The show reached its final advert break and Ryan turned to look at her. ‘I’m going have to go; the last bus goes soon. I could get a taxi, I suppose…’

Jessica didn’t let him finish the sentence. She angled forward and kissed him. It was gentle at first, but he kissed her back strongly and she let him. It felt good. Before she knew what she was doing, she had her hand inside his shirt, on his chest. He tried to push her back onto the sofa but she stopped him, pulling away from the embrace. He looked a little confused for a moment but, as Jessica got to her feet, she made it clear why she was stopping. She held out her hand and led him to her bedroom.