Basic Element: A dark gipping detective thriller (Crane and Anderson Book 2) Page 13

  “I’m afraid we’re very busy just now, trying to unravel this mess. I suggest you use public transport, or take a taxi.”

  Anderson stormed out and Crane limped behind him, thinking Anderson had just got his revenge for Mrs Dennison leading them up the garden path.

  Passing Interview Room 4, Crane could see the Professor was still waiting for them. “What do you reckon?” he asked Anderson. “Should we push him further, or let him go?”

  “Let him go. I can’t be bothered with either of them at the moment. There is another possible way we can catch him, if he really is our killer.”

  “Holly’s idea?”

  Anderson nodded. “Yes, but modified a bit.”

  “Alright,” said Crane and went and had a quiet word with the Sergeant on the front desk, asking him to tell Mr Dennison he could leave and that if he hurried he could catch up with his wife and give her a lift home.

  Back in Anderson’s office, he and Crane continued to chew things over, metaphorically and literally with a couple of chocolate biscuits with their coffee.

  “How about letting the Professor in on Holly’s plan?”

  Crane spluttered and choked as a piece of biscuit got stuck in his windpipe. After several coughs he managed, “I beg your pardon?”

  “We could let him know that we’re considering a sting operation.”

  “But if he really is the killer, he won’t show or he won’t even respond to her in the first place.”

  Anderson said, “Granted, but he won’t know anything about what Holly puts online, what her contact name is or anything she writes as her hobbies and interests.”

  “Do you really think he’ll carry on killing, even though he knows we’re onto him?”

  “Possibly, probably. It’s an addiction I think. I don’t think he can stop. And I think that as a criminologist he would want to show he can get one over on us. Still kill someone even though we’re looking at him closely. Show he’s cleverer than we are.”

  “You mean he’ll deliberately carry on? So we’d be goading him into meeting someone else and killing him or her?”

  “I suppose that’s the risk we will have to take.”

  Crane said, “Well it’s a bloody big one if you ask me. Setting him up to try and kill Holly but knowing he might well kill someone else instead, just to show us he can.”

  “Unless it’s not the Professor at all? Or his wife?”

  “It could be someone we’ve not come across before.”

  “I need to sleep on this,” said Anderson.

  Crane had to agree. He really could do with some sleep himself. He was getting fed up of the pain waking him up at night and then rarely being able to fall back to sleep until he’d either taken a tablet, or dropped off again a mere hour before he had to get up for work. As he drove home he contemplated what Derek had said about their killer being addicted to murdering his sex-play partners. He clearly wasn’t fussy about the gender of his partner, which meant it was the act itself that he was more interested in. Which meant Derek could well be right.

  Sitting on the drive of his house, with only the cooling engine ticking for company, Crane tried to put himself in the place of their murderer. He saw again Sally’s body, white against the mattress of her bed, soaked in bleach, rendered impersonal, as though the killer had washed away the very essence of her. He shook his head. No, that wasn’t what he should be doing. He shouldn’t focus on the victim. He needed to see beyond the victim, to the killer himself.

  “Tom?”

  Crane’s head snapped up at the sound of Tina’s voice, from where it had been resting on the steering wheel.

  “You coming in?”

  He nodded and climbed out of the car to join his family. Yes, he needed to get into the head and heart of the killer. But not now. He mustn’t let the evil permeate his home. He’d leave his musings until tomorrow, back at the police station. And anyway, he had an addiction of his own to confess to. It was time he told Tina the truth about his problems with the pain and his medication.

  The team knew the Chief Superintendent was on his way, when the remainder of the staff in the office fell silent. It was as if Moses was parting the seas. By the time he arrived at Anderson’s office the whole floor was quiet.

  “What the fuck are you lot looking at?” Grimes shouted, which jump started the room and the normal low hum of worker bees resumed. “Jesus,” he grumbled as he entered Anderson’s office. “Anyone would think I was a bloody celebrity.”

  “They’re obviously not used to seeing you on the floor,” said Holly and Crane watched her face immediately flush red, as she must have realised what she’d said.

  “I take it this is your plan,” Grimes turned to her. “It would take an outspoken person such as yourself to come up with it. Not frightened of much are you, eh?”

  Holly looked him straight in the eye and said, “Not when I see injustice and not if I can do something to change it.”

  “Anderson, as Holly’s senior officer, perhaps you’d like to outline her plan.”

  If Holly was upset by this very public snub, she didn’t show it, Crane noticed. But it was a rebuff for the slight she’d made against him. Fair do’s. No leader could be seen to be accepting of disrespectful behaviour, army or police. Strictly speaking, of course, she wasn’t police. She was a civilian contractor just as Crane was, but they both had to learn to live with, and work within, the constraints of the system. How tight those constraints were going to be would be revealed in the next few minutes.

  After Derek finished speaking there was silence. Then Grimes said, “It’s a good plan,” nodding briefly at Holly, “and I’m prepared to sanction it, but with one proviso. No physical contact, no meeting anyone.”

  Crane saw Holly’s eyes flash.

  Grimes must have caught her look as well, for he continued, “At least not without full support in place and a comprehensive risk analysis done.”

  “Thank you, sir,” she said, a smile playing across her lips, trying to break out from behind the clouds of her bad mood.

  “Also,” Grimes turned back to Anderson, “I want the Professor put under surveillance. You need to know where he is at all times. Put a tracker on his car and try and clone his mobile phone or whatever the hell it is that you lot do. I want you to know where he is every minute of the day and if you don’t, I want to know why not. Understood?”

  As they all nodded, Crane said, “I think we should at least track his wife’s car and her phone, even if no one is following her.”

  “Really, Crane?”

  “Really, sir. I don’t want anyone or anything to give us the slip. At this stage I don’t even trust my own wife, never mind his.”

  As Grimes slipped away down the back stairs, obviously having had enough of mingling with the lower ranks, Crane thought things weren’t much different here than in the army. Even the police operated a higher and lower ranking system, and never the twain should meet.

  “You okay?” he asked, following Holly back to her desk.

  “Yeah, bit of a bastard though, isn’t he?”

  “He just needs to re-enforce his feeling of being a charge. You know, stroke his ego.”

  Holly said, “That was a deliberate snub, though, getting the guv to tell him about my plan.”

  “Look, the only thing you can do is to go along with it. It’s just the system, Holly, it’s not personal.”

  “Well it feels bloody personal.”

  Crane said, “You need to grow a thicker skin, that’s all. You’ve made your point, the plan is a good one and he’s agreed to go with it. You got what you wanted, ignore the rest.”

  “You think?”

  “I think. It’ll make your working life here a lot easier. What’s that serenity prayer?”

  “Something about the wisdom to accept what I can’t change and the courage to change what I can.”

  “That about says it all.”

  “Alright, Crane, I’ll try.” As he turned away she said
, “And thanks.”

  He raised his hand in acknowledgement and clumped his way back to his own desk, wondering if he should be taking his own advice.

  The chat with Tina last night had gone much better than he’d expected. He’d confessed to his problems with those little white pills and told her about his unexpected meeting with Major Martin. He humbled himself enough to ask for her help. “So what do you reckon?” he’d finished.

  “Remember when I had post-natal depression?” she’d said. “I couldn’t see I had a problem, but everyone else could. As I see it, this is pretty much the same, Tom. So I’m going to do for you what you did for me.”

  “Which was?”

  “Take charge. Dole out your tablets into one of those little pill boxes from the pharmacy, with the ones you need to take morning, afternoon and at night. I’ll go and see the Major, as he suggested and together we can work out a plan to reduce your consumption of the ones that are particularly addictive. As he said, that way you can slowly reduce your dependence but manage your pain levels.”

  “What did I ever do to deserve you?” he’d asked.

  But she’d brushed away the comment. “Stop being maudlin,” she’d laughed. “And pour me another glass of wine.”

  Holly

  Holly had done her homework. She’d already studied the online profiles of their three victims and so it wasn’t difficult to open an account and write a profile of her own. She filled it with what were known as ‘keywords’, words from two or three of the victim’s profiles. Suggestions of wanting something other than the normal sexual encounter and with her own private space to meet. In the end she wrote three profiles and opened three different accounts with different email addresses. It was laughably easy. All the site host wanted, to be honest, was the money. It didn’t even matter that she used the same credit card to pay for all three profiles. She’d submitted everything to the S-Dates site the previous night, and it was with an extra spring in her step that she hurried to work through the crisp morning air, eager to turn on her computer and see her profiles live on the site.

  But mingled with her eagerness was a twinge of fear. What if she didn’t get any hits on her profiles? What if their killer had moved on to another site? S-Dates wasn’t the only company delving into the ‘meet for sex’ online market. But, she also knew many on-line users had their favourite sites, the one they felt most comfortable with and had begun to have some success with. The balance of probably, therefore, was that the killer would stay with S-Dates. Of course he would. She hoped. Fingers crossed.

  Throwing off her coat and then turning everything on, she went and made a green tea whilst waiting for her equipment to warm up. By the time she got back to her desk, Ciaran had arrived.

  “Anything?” he asked.

  “Fucking hell, Ciaran, I’ve only just got here.”

  “Sorry. I’ll get a coffee then,” he said looking pointedly at her mug.

  “You weren’t here when I made this,” she snapped, revealing her anxiousness.

  “Christ, Holly, chill,” he said and sauntered away.

  Muttering about Ciaran under her breath, who was quickly becoming more of a thorn in her side than a helpful colleague, she logged on to S-Dates, opening the three different profiles on three different machines, so she could monitor them all in real time.

  “Jesus!”

  “What? Are you alright?” Ciaran spilled his coffee running to her side. “Fuck,” he said as he pulled a wad of tissue out of his drawer and mopped the hot liquid from his trousers.

  “I’ve had replies!”

  “Yeah, well done, Hols,” he grinned, despite hopping around from the hot coffee which had spilled perilously close to his crotch.

  “Nearly a hundred.”

  “Eh?” he said down abruptly. “Never knew internet sex was so popular. How the hell are you going to find our man in all of those?”

  “By using the same method that she used to write them.”

  The voice belonged to Crane who had just joined them, surprisingly silent despite his gammy leg.

  “Sorry, guv?”

  “Go back to our killer’s replies and see if anyone has used the same phrases as he did when communicating with Sally and the others. Surely if it worked one way, it will work the other.”

  A smile spread over Holly’s face and without answering she turned her attention to one of her monitors.

  “Looks like she thinks it was a good idea,” said Ciaran, but he was ignored as well, for Holly was deep into the replies, copying and pasting what she thought could be key phrases, ready to be compared with the huge number of replies she’d received to her ads.

  The morning passed in a blur and it was early afternoon before she was ready to talk to the team about her findings. She’d managed to narrow the replies down to three users, and wanted to arrange a meeting with at least one of them. But it was nearly the end of the day before she got a reply from Anderson to her request.

  “Sorry, Holly, it’s not going to happen,” said Anderson.

  “What, guv? I thought it had been agreed?”

  “It was agreed that Grimes would consider it upon production of a full risk analysis.”

  “And?”

  Anderson said, “And I’ve done one and he said no. It’s just too dangerous.”

  “Too dangerous for a woman you mean,” she couldn’t keep the belligerent note out of her voice.

  “No, too dangerous for anyone, male or female.”

  Holly stood. “Well how the hell does he propose we catch this bastard?”

  Anderson smiled in sympathy. “That’s for us to come up with.”

  “Bugger this,” Holly ran out of the office, turned off her computers and grabbed her bag and coat, ready to leave. She wanted nothing more than to get out of the place where she’d sweated and worried over the case and in the end all that work had come to nothing. She couldn’t cope. Slinging her bag over her shoulder she turned to leave.

  “Come on, then,” said Ciaran, falling into step next to her.

  “Come on, where?”

  “The pub. I reckon you need a drink.”

  “I don’t drink alcohol.”

  “Jesus, woman, a sparkling water then,” and he grabbed her elbow, steering her through the office towards the lift.

  Boy

  When I looked back at my memories and previous actions, it is quite obvious I have always had these needs, desires and fantasies. You don’t need to be a psychologist to work that one out. I was always happy to be Daddy’s Boy, it made me, defined me, made me acceptable in Daddy’s eyes. Acknowledging this, and applying the word ‘orientation’ to my bondage and discipline, sadism and masochism tendencies, has helped me come to terms with my identity.

  The BDSM orientation idea cleared a mental path for me. It enabled me to think of BDSM as an inbuilt part of myself. It’s in my DNA, making me as individual as my bone structure or eye colour. For years I struggled with it. But when BDSM became something I had to accept, even embrace, it was a hugely liberating way of thinking about it. If I thought of BDSM as an orientation, that meant I didn’t have to worry about it or fight it anymore. I had freed myself. I had given myself permission to indulge in my fantasies.

  That’s why S-Dates is so important to me. They offer like-minded people an opportunity to connect. It’s another layer of acceptance, I guess.

  Knowing I’m not the only one with these feelings and desires.

  Knowing I’m not an outcast.

  Knowing I’m not different.

  But S-Dates seems to be changing. I can’t quite put my finger on it, but there are a number of new people on there who don’t quite ‘gel’. It’s as though they’re trying too hard. Trying to be who they’re not. I’m avoiding those adverts. Avoiding the ones that have the descriptions off pat.

  I wonder if someone is stalking me.

  Trying to trace me.

  I must be careful.

  I mustn’t slip up.

  Ho
lly

  “Feeling better?” Ciaran asked Holly after she’d gulped down most of her water.

  She nodded. “Sorry, I was just so frustrated, you know? I’ve found three possible suspects and I don’t get why Anderson won’t let the operation go ahead. Will you help me?”

  Ciaran suddenly didn’t seem so friendly, he shrank away from her and a distrustful look passed over his face. “With what?”

  “If I arrange a meeting with one of them, say in this pub, will you be there to watch over me?”

  “Eh?”

  “Come on, Ciaran. You know I’d do the same for you.”

  “No, I don’t know that, Holly and I don’t think you have any idea about the danger you’d be putting yourself in. Because for the sting to be any good, we’d have to catch him in the act. It wouldn’t be illegal to meet you for a drink in the pub, a liaison set up on S-Dates.”

  “Look, after I meet him, all I’m asking you to do is to follow us to my flat.”

  “All? And what would that achieve? Can you image me telling Anderson, ‘Oh, by the way, guv, I watched Holly go into her flat with her killer and did nothing’? Yeah, that would go down really well. And you’d be dead! For what? No, I can’t do it. You can’t do it.”

  “Rubbish,” she snorted. “Of course we can. I’ve got a video camera, one of those nanny cams in my bedroom, so I can film the whole thing.”

  “What film your death you mean? My God, this is getting worse!”

  “Look I’ll know it’s coming won’t I?” she argued. “So I can stop him. Those other victims didn’t expect to be oxygen deprived for so long.”

  “But death can occur after only ten seconds of pressure on the arteries. It’s too quick. You wouldn’t have a chance.” Ciaran grabbed his pint and took a swing. “No, sorry, I can’t agree to do this. You must be mad to think I would.”

  “What about Donna?”

  “Sorry? Donna? What the hell has she got to do with anything?”

  “Does Anderson know you’re seeing her?”