Trespass (P.I. Johnson Carmichael Series - Book 2) (25 page)

He had driven the taxi, with the body lying on the back seat, as far as Brixton, stopping off to collect a saw and a hammer from his flat. He had not known whether he would be capable of dismembering the body but he had realised it was the only way he would stand a chance of getting away with what had happened. It wasn’t just the fear of being convicted of murder that had focused his mind, but also the repercussions for the investigation: it would have set the task force back several years and revived questions of police brutality at a time when they were not welcome. He had climbed into the back of the cab and had spent at least twenty minutes praying for forgiveness. He had then located the wrist joint of the left hand and begun to rub the saw’s blade backwards and forwards. Blood had still squirted out of the veins as he had cut; the heart may not have been pumping it, but it had remained in situ nevertheless. The squeak as the blade had made contact with tendons had sent shivers down his spine like fingernails on a chalkboard. It had been unbearable and he had eventually put the stereo on so that the sound of loud music would drown out the squeaking. The wrists had been significantly easier than the feet and by the time he had taken the hammer to Stratovsky’s bloated face, he had managed to distance himself from his actions. In his mind, he had had been far from that taxi.

He had placed the hands, feet and tools in a carrier bag, which he had dumped in a hospital incinerator the next day. He had managed to syphon some diesel from the taxi’s tank, and had sprayed this liberally over the seats, before dropping several flaming matches. It had ignited like a bonfire, burning out over several hours before anyone found it. The fire had practically extinguished itself by the time the fire brigade had arrived. He had been tucked up in bed by that point; not asleep but in bed nevertheless.

He tried to push the memories from his mind and get back to the task at hand. He needed to find Matthew Green and as yet his efforts had been fruitless. He did the only thing he could think of: he phoned D.C.I. Jan Mercure.

‘You want me to do what?’ Mercure said staring out the window disbelievingly.

‘Please, I just want you to phone them and find out where he is scheduled to be today. They won’t tell me but they would tell you.’

‘And what am I supposed to say is the reason for needing to know the whereabouts of one of their staff?’

‘I don’t know…maybe say you have an update for him on the burglary he reported the other night. That way, he comes across as a victim rather than a possible suspect.’

‘And when they speak to him about this mysterious burglary?’

‘They won’t. Besides you’ll have him in custody by that point so it will be worth it.’

Mercure considered the reasoning.

‘Let me think about it.’

‘There isn’t time, Jan. Please, look, just do this one thing for me and I won’t trouble you again.’

‘You must think I was born yesterday,’ she scoffed. ‘And we are not friendly enough for you to address me by my first name; it is D.C.I. Mercure to you.’

‘Sorry, Ma’am. I just need this break and I’ll have him.’

‘That’s what worries me the most. Say I do find out his schedule, what will you do with him when you have him? I wouldn’t want there to be any chance of him claiming he was coerced into a confession. That’s not how I do things.’

‘I promise I won’t hurt him,’ he lied.

‘I’m not sure I believe you, Johnson. Look, why not leave this with us, eh? It’s our job, not yours.’

‘I was hired to find out who assaulted Beth Roper. I’m not going to give up when I’m this close. I owe it to Lauren.’

‘She didn’t even pay you!’ Mercure mocked.

‘Are you going to help me or not?’

‘I can’t do what you want, Johnson. I’m sorry; you’ll just have to find another way.’

Carmichael hung up the phone in frustration.

Great
, he thought,
now what
?

As if his prayers had been answered, his mobile phone began to ring. It was Melissa.

‘Tell me you’ve got something,’ he pleaded.

‘Get ready to offer me a pay rise for my brilliance, boss.’

‘I’m listening,’ he said with anticipation.

‘He is at the
Whiteley Shopping Village
. Well, he’s at an address just around the corner, but you know where I mean.’

‘How the hell did you find that out?’

‘I phoned
Friary House
of course. I told them I was his wife and needed to find him as his father had suffered a heart attack and I couldn’t reach him on his mobile. The man I spoke to was only too happy to help me. Gave me his whole schedule for the afternoon. I’ll email it to you now, in case he’s moved on by the time you get to him. Am I brilliant or what?’

‘Melissa, I’m speechless. Consider that pay rise approved. Shall we say an extra fifty pence an hour?’

‘Ha! I’ll settle for an extra grand on that bonus you promised me.’

‘Done.’

‘Great.’

‘Melissa, there’s something else. A guy will be at the office at three to speak to me. Can you keep him occupied until I get there? It’s just in case I’m late. Oh, and once I’m there I’ll need you to leave us in peace for a couple of hours.’

‘Nothing serious I hope?’

‘Nothing for you to worry about.’

He hung up the phone and checked his email. He located Melissa’s message and punched the post code into his satellite navigation system and hit the road.

*

The shopping village in Whiteley had opened earlier in the summer and was home to a number of bars, cafes, restaurants and popular high street retailers. Located halfway between the rival cities of Southampton and Portsmouth, the village was looking to attract the casual shopper and friends meeting for food and drink. Two years prior to its opening, the village had been a retail outlet offering significant discounts on designer clothing. Once the credit crunch had arrived in Hampshire the demand for discounted designer goods had ceased, hence the village’s recent rebirth.

Carmichael had not been to Whiteley since it had reopened and he was surprised at how similar the layout seemed to what he had known. Despite Melissa’s suggestion that Matthew Green was due to be working on a property near the village, the coordinates on the satnav were advising him to drive into one of the site’s three car parks. He obliged and set out to try and locate the telecommunications’ company van. It felt like looking for a needle in a haystack, and having combed the car parks for the van, he decided to venture into the shopping village. He was starting to wonder whether the satnav had misled him when he spotted a van parked up at the far side of the village. It was neither in a car park, nor parked in a residential street, more abandoned at the rear of
Marks & Spencers
. He approached it slowly, conscious that he did not wish to spook his prey.

The van was empty, and as he moved his hands across the cool bonnet, he realised that it had been parked there for some time. Presumably Green was working on a property nearby. He was about to venture off to the residential street nearby when he heard something overhead. Looking up he saw a man in blue overalls and a hardhat hanging from a telephone mast. The man was wearing headphones and so probably wasn’t even aware that Carmichael was there. The man was wearing a tool belt too, but from where he was standing, Carmichael couldn’t be certain if it was Green or not, so decided to drop back a bit and casually observe him from the solitude of a park bench in the shopping village.

He had been watching for over an hour before the man finished fiddling with the cable box on the mast and began to climb down. He looked quite comfortable using the rungs on the mast and it made Carmichael realise that this nimble man would have had no difficulty climbing up to the open window of Lauren’s flat. The engineer banged on the back door of the unit he was nearest to and spoke to a woman. He had no idea what they were discussing, but the engineer’s thumbs up signal suggested that, whatever the problem had been, it was now fixed.

The engineer turned and started to head back to his van. Carmichael knew that the time was right and marched forwards. He covered the ground just as the engineer put his tool belt in the back of the van.

‘Can I help you?’ Matthew Green asked as he saw a man approaching him.

Carmichael didn’t answer, instead pushing Green’s shoulder hard causing him to crash into the open door at the rear of the van.

‘Hey,’ he started, but was punched hard in the face. He fell to the floor in a heap.

‘You know who I am?’ Carmichael shouted, leaning over.

‘No, no,’ Green whimpered, folding his body into the foetal position to protect himself.

‘I’m your worst nightmare!’ he declared and began to kick him in the back and sides.

Green offered no resistance, instead cowering and hoping the pain would stop.

‘Your name is Matthew Green, right?’

‘Yes,’ he cried.

‘And your brother is the convicted rapist and murderer, Nathan Green?’ he spat.

‘Yes,’ Green whimpered again.

‘I know what you did and I’m here to get the justice that two beautiful ladies deserve.’

He kicked him again and then bent down and lifted him up by the lapels of his overalls.

‘Look at me, you fucking scumbag,’ he declared as Green tightened his eyes shut, tears streaming down his cheeks.

‘You raped Beth Roper in nineteen eighty-nine. You followed her home and you raped her. Did it make you feel good? Huh? Make you feel like a big man? Just like your lowlife brother?’

‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’

‘Don’t give me that, Matthew! You forced yourself on her, you cut her, and you made her taste your semen. And then you did the same to her daughter. Why Matthew? Was it because she saw you all those years ago? I bet that shocked you, right? You were fucking her mum when she came out and caught you? Were you scared that she would recognise you and report what you did? Was that it? Huh? Was that why you broke into her flat, tied her up and
raped
her too?’

‘I don’t know what you’re talking about,’ he pleaded. ‘Please, I’m not who you think I am.’

‘You are exactly who I think you are! A sick fucker, just like your brother.’

‘Please, you have made a mistake. Nathan was sick, but I am nothing like my brother!’

‘She saw your eyes you know. That’s what made her come looking for the man who attacked her mother. Your eyes. But the thing is, she didn’t realise it was you. She thought it was your brother, so there was no need for you to kill her. It’s such a waste!’

Carmichael released Green and he crumpled to the floor once more, pulling out a pressed handkerchief to dab his tears.

‘You might as well admit it you know; I’ve got all the proof I need,’ Carmichael bluffed, hoping to trigger a Benold-like confession.

‘I’m sorry,’ Green began. ‘I don’t know who you are or what you want but I can assure you I am not the gentleman you are looking for. Please, you must believe me. The things you described…I could never…do those things.’

Carmichael was about to kick out at him again when something stopped him. The man on the floor before him suddenly looked nothing like the images of Nathan Green that he had been studying. That man was confident, smirking; arrogant even. This man, was humble, weaker somehow. Despite facial similarities, they appeared to be polar opposites. He began to question everything he believed: it had to be him!

‘I am not a violent man,’ Green continued, wiping traces of blood from the end of his nose. ‘I rarely even shout at my own children. That’s probably why
she
left me.’

‘Who is
she
?’

‘My wife. She is still in Edinburgh. She had an affair with some salesman or such that she met at a conference. It didn’t last long but she said it had awoken something inside of her and she had realised that married life and motherhood were not for her. She moved out and has been living in a hotel up there ever since. She loves her freedom apparently and has no desire to see our children. Can you believe that?’

‘Is that why you did it? To control a woman because you can’t control your own wife?’

‘No! I told you, I know nothing about the allegations you made. My wife is a selfish woman, but do you know what? I’d take her back in a flash if she phoned me and said sorry. Sad, right?’

Carmichael sighed, ‘Where were you between midday and four o’clock on Friday afternoon?’

‘Oh, that’s easy. I was at my children’s Christmas pageant. It was an all-day affair, with parents drafted in to help organise costumes and prop decorating. I didn’t leave until after five p.m.’

‘And I’m betting there are plenty of people who will confirm you were there?’

‘Oh yes, any number of teachers and parents.’

‘Do one more thing for me. Lower your overalls.’

Green obliged without question.

‘And lift your shirt.’

Again, Green did as instructed, revealing a hairy back but there were no tattoos anywhere on his body.

‘Shit!’ Carmichael sighed again.

‘What is it? What did you expect to see?’

‘It doesn’t matter,’ he replied dismissively.

‘Look, I’m really sorry that I’m not who you were looking for. You said that one of the women was assaulted in eighty-nine? My brother was…active at that point. I can remember always suspecting him of doing something illegal, but had assumed it was drugs-related. You see, he would go through these mood swings: happy one day, depressed the next. I warned him that it would all catch up with him one day.’

‘So you didn’t know he was raping women?’

‘Good God, no.’

‘What would you have done if you
had
known?’

‘I would have phoned the police myself. I have no time for…that kind of thing.’

‘Do you think he raped more than the three women he was convicted of?’

‘I’m sure of it. His mood swings started right after college, so I believe there are plenty of women out there that he targeted and assaulted.’

‘I don’t suppose you know any names?’

‘Believe me, if I did, I would be round their houses offering my sincerest apologies.’

‘About…’ Carmichael began, indicating the bruises forming on Green’s face.

‘Forget about it,’ he interrupted. ‘You made an honest mistake; let’s leave it at that. I won’t press charges, I can assure you. My family deserves a beating after what my brother did.’

Carmichael couldn’t believe how forgiving the engineer was being but decided not to push it and returned to his own car. He had been so certain that Matthew Green was responsible, but that man was either an incredibly competent liar or he was not guilty. Carmichael slammed his fist down on the dashboard in anger. He watched as Green’s van drove past the car park and decided to follow it. Carmichael was sure he was innocent but there was something that still troubled his mind.