Read The Chameleon's Shadow Online
Authors: Minette Walters
The Chameleon's Shadow (18 page)
told him, taking her case from behind the door and propping it on her knee to open it. ‘OK, let’s see what we can find.’
Acland watched her unwrap the Cellboost. ‘Why don’t you put the SIM card in your own Nokia and read it that way?’
‘I’m on call.’ She connected the booster to the phone and hoisted a meaty thigh on the edge of the desk while she waited. ‘There’s usually a lull about this time. The busy periods are in the lead-up to midnight and after three o’clock in the morning.’
‘Why?’
‘Human nature and blood-sugar levels. Parents check on children before they go to bed themselves . . . Adults tend to worry in the hours before dawn when they’re at their lowest ebb. It’s a common time for people to die.’
Acland finished writing Ben’s name and moved the rucksack into the corner. ‘I wouldn’t like that.’
‘What?’
‘Finding someone dead in bed.’
‘Then don’t take a job in a hospital or a nursing home or you’ll come across them on a regular basis.’ Jackson cupped a hand round the mobile to see the battery level. ‘Hardly anyone dies at home these days, yet most of us would rather fall asleep in our own beds than attached to drips in a sterile environment full of strangers.’
‘Maybe doctors shouldn’t strive so assiduously to keep people alive.’ He spoke the words grimly.
Jackson eyed him for a moment. ‘
All
people? Are you saying we should have left Ben to die in an alleyway because life-long insulin is going to cost the rest of us a fortune?’
‘No.’
‘Who, then?
You?
’ She removed the Cellboost from the mobile and fired it up. ‘If you’re looking for someone to blame because you’re still alive, then blame your men. They could have abandoned you in the desert and saved the medics the time and trouble of putting you back together again. Not to mention the decent dinner I might have had if you and Chalky hadn’t insisted on
saving the lad upstairs.’
‘Sorry.’
‘Accepted . . . and you’re right, it’s locked.’ She gave him the pen again. ‘The IMEI number should be under the SIM card.’ She prised the casing open and removed the piece of plastic, reading aloud a series of digits. ‘Got that?’
Acland nodded. ‘How do you know how to do this?’
‘A policeman taught me.’ She moved round to the chair and switched on the computer. ‘OK, what I’m about to do next is highly illegal so if you don’t want to be involved you’d better wait outside the door.’
‘Involved in what?’
‘Me asserting that I’m the owner of this phone in order to access the master code.’ She tapped in a website address, then held out her hand for the IMEI number.
‘I’ll read it to you.’
‘Then bear in mind that everything I’m doing is being recorded on the hard drive. You’re aiding and abetting a fraudulent use of someone else’s data.’
Acland shrugged indifferently and read out the number. ‘Why would a policeman teach you to do something illegal?’
‘Daisy forgets security codes . . . including the burglar alarm.’ Jackson clicked the mouse, then leaned back while the screen worked out permutations. ‘The woman has a PhD in First World War poetry . . . can recite most of Rupert Brooke . . . but can’t hold a four-digit PIN in her head. I’ve had to learn the tricks of the trade for all the security devices in the pub. If she puts in the wrong code, nothing works.’
‘Why doesn’t she use the same code for everything?’
‘Because she’s a dipstick where mobiles are concerned. She’s had more lost or stolen than you’ve had hot dinners. If she used the same four numbers on her phone as we do on the alarm, the pub would have been stripped bare months ago. Any Tom, Dick or Harry can do this.’ She nodded at the monitor. ‘There you go. A usable master code.’ She reached for the Nokia and punched in the numbers. ‘Bingo. Let’s start with ICE.’
Acland watched over her shoulder as she went into the address book. ‘What’s ICE?’
‘In Case of Emergency. It’s the recognized site for next-of-kin details so police and paramedics don’t have to call every name in the address book.’ She read the name that appeared. ‘Belinda Atkins. That doesn’t sound very hopeful . . . it’s a London phone number.’ She put in ‘Russell’, but the only names that appeared under ‘R’ were ‘Randall’, ‘Reeve’, ‘Roddy’ and ‘Rush’.
‘Try “Atkins”?’ Acland suggested.
There were five of them: Belinda Atkins, Gerald Atkins, Kevin Atkins, Sarah Atkins, Tom Atkins. ‘So whose phone is it?’ Jackson asked. ‘It’s obviously not Belinda’s, if she’s the next of kin.’
‘Kevin’s,’ said Acland. ‘He’s the only one without a landline. All the others have two contact numbers. It’s a good way of remembering your own mobile number.’
‘Give it a go,’ she said, offering him her own phone and reading out the digits.
‘As long as you do the talking if anyone answers.
I
wouldn’t want to be woken at this time of night to be told about a stolen mobile.’ He pressed the ‘call’ button and the handset in Jackson’s hand started playing ‘The Ride of the Valkyries’.
Jackson killed it. ‘I know the name Kevin Atkins,’ she said slowly, ‘but I can’t think why. Where would I have heard it before?’
‘A patient?’
She shook her head. ‘Somewhere else. I’m sure I’ve seen it fairly recently, too.’ She lapsed into a brief silence. ‘Damn! It’s really bugging me.’
Acland nodded to the lit screen. ‘Try Google,’ he said.
*
Neither was prepared for the information that came up.
BBC NEWS / England / London / Third murder victim beaten to
death...
The body of
Kevin Atkins
...
Guardian Unlimited / Special reports / Murder of
Kevin Atkins
part
of a series...
Detective Superintendent Jones, who is leading the murder inquiry, said...
The Sun Online – News: Male prostitute sought for gay killings...
Police warn gay community to be vigilant following the murder of
Kevin
Jackson’s response was disbelief. ‘There’s no way that kid could beat anyone to death. He’s skin and bones. His sugar levels would have gone haywire the minute he started pumping adrenalin.’
Acland’s response was extreme agitation. ‘You shouldn’t have done this. I’m going to be crucified.’
Jackson clicked on the BBC news report and scanned down it. ‘The story’s four months old. More to the point is why hasn’t the server disconnected the phone?’
Acland turned away, pumping his fists violently. ‘Who cares?’
‘
You
might if the police come bursting through the door,’ she said. ‘They’re obviously still tracking it . . . and
we’ve
just given them its location.’
‘Shit!’
‘Calm down,’ Jackson said sharply. ‘It’s Ben who’s going to be in the firing line . . . not you and me. The first question they’ll ask him is how did a murdered man’s mobile get in his rucksack?’
‘He’ll say I put it there.’
‘Why would he do that?’
‘Because I’m the obvious fall guy. I was in the alleyway with him . . . and Jones already thinks I’m involved in these murders.’
Jackson eyed him thoughtfully. ‘The kid won’t know that unless you told him.’
Acland ignored her. ‘I can’t even prove the damn thing was in his rucksack. Chalky was sitting on a wall when I found it.’ He started pacing the floor. ‘Shit! Fucking
shit
!’
‘You were searched at the police station,’ Jackson reminded him, ‘and you didn’t have the mobile on you then.’
He swung round in fury. ‘I’ve
never
had it on me,’ he snapped, ‘but it won’t stop the bastards accusing me. There’s no way they’ll believe this was chance. They’ll say Ben was stashing stuff for me . . . and our meeting was prearranged.’
Jackson allowed a pulse of silence to pass. ‘
Was
it?’ she asked dispassionately.
Acland came close to stamping his foot. ‘I only found out what his name was when Chalky told you.’
‘Does he know yours?’
Acland shook his head angrily, as if the question was irrelevant.
‘What about Chalky? Does he know you as anything other than lootenant?’
‘No.’
‘Then Ben will have a tough time implicating you in whatever he’s been up to,’ she said calmly. ‘If he was sick enough to go into a coma, I doubt he’ll even remember you were there . . . let alone be able to describe you.’ She closed down Windows and turned off the computer. ‘However suspicious you are of the police, they don’t usually manufacture evidence out of thin air . . . and a prearranged meeting requires some foreknowledge of the other person, such as a name or a recognizable description . . . not to mention a means of communication.’
Rather than allay Acland’s anger, this reasoned approach seemed to stoke it up. ‘Don’t patronize me,’ he warned.
‘Then use your brain,’ Jackson murmured, reaching for her medical case and lifting it on to the desk. ‘No one’s going to be interested in you. It’s the wretched kid who’ll be put through the mill . . . just as soon as he’s well enough to answer questions. Me, too, if I’ve wiped anything important off Atkins’s SIM card.’
‘You shouldn’t have interfered.’
‘Maybe not, but the guy who owned that phone was murdered, so on balance I’d say I did a good thing.’
‘You might feel differently if you’d been held for six hours.’
‘I doubt it,’ she said coolly. ‘I don’t panic as easily as you seem to do.’
Acland slammed his palms on to the desk. ‘I
told
you ...
don’t
patronize me.’
Jackson shrugged. ‘You’re not giving me much choice. If you want respect, you’d better find a way of dealing with fear that doesn’t involve throwing a tantrum.’
He thrust his face into hers. ‘I
knew
I shouldn’t have got in your car. Every time I trust a woman, I get fucking
shafted
... and I’m sick to death of it.’
She stared back at him, unmoved. ‘If you carry on like this, I’ll start to question your actions myself. Are you going to back off . . . or do we play this charade to the end? I’m not remotely interested in bolstering your self-esteem by allowing you to intimidate me.’
Reluctantly, Acland straightened and stepped away. ‘For all I know you’ve set this up. Your lady friend did a fucking neat job of getting me arrested last time.’
Jackson rose to her feet. ‘Daisy couldn’t organize a piss-up in brewery. It was me who told the police you were coming . . . and before your hackles go up again, we were only asked about the fight in the pub and whether we knew how to contact you. I had no idea you had a connection with Walter Tutting until they took you in for questioning . . . and neither did Daisy.’
‘She made the arrest possible. She pointed me out to the police as soon as I came through the door.’
‘She had no choice. You assaulted one of her customers and she has a licence to protect.’ Jackson shook her head at Acland’s sullen expression. ‘What did you expect her to do? Jeopardize everything she’s worked for to avoid you feeling hard done by? If so, you’ve some strange ideas about other people’s priorities.’
‘I sure as hell don’t understand yours,’ he retorted angrily.
‘Why come looking for me? I’d be long gone if you’d kept your nose out of my business. The kid’s no concern of mine. Once I’d called the ambulance, I’d have left.’
‘The phone would still have existed and it would still have belonged to Kevin Atkins,’ she pointed out, ‘and you’d have looked a lot guiltier if you’d vanished at that point. Do you think Chalky wouldn’t have said that a lieutenant with an eyepatch was the third person in the alleyway?’
‘The police wouldn’t have been involved. It’s only because you’re a control freak that we’re in this mess. If you’d left well alone, the mobile would have remained untouched in the rucksack and the server wouldn’t have been able to track it.’
‘And you’d prefer it that way?’
‘Yes.’
‘All right,’ she said abruptly. ‘Then you and Chalky had better disappear. I can’t imagine he’ll be any keener than you to assist in a murder inquiry.’ She tucked her own mobile into her pocket, opened her medical case, put the stolen mobile and the spent Cellboost into an envelope, then closed the lid. ‘You’ll have the time it takes me to drive from here to Southwark East police station to put distance between yourselves and this hospital. I won’t mention either of you unless I’m asked directly if you were here.’
Acland squared up to her. ‘What good’s that if the paramedics saw us?’
Jackson shouldered past him to pick up the rucksack. ‘The police won’t bother with paramedics when they have Kevin Atkins’s phone,’ she said bitingly. ‘The only person they’ll be interested in is the sick boy upstairs. Or is that too complicated for you to understand?’
B
Y THE SIMPLE EXPEDIENT
of making another series of calls, Jackson stymied all Acland’s attempts to speak to her as they returned to the car, but he couldn’t tell whether she was blanking him deliberately or whether the calls were necessary. One was a request for an update on Ben’s condition with a warning that the police would almost certainly want to interview him, another the information that she had taken responsibility for the rucksack herself, and the last an apology to her agency that she would be out of commission for another hour at Southwark East police station.
She was ahead of Acland as they entered the car park and took the full brunt of Chalky’s alcoholic ill-humour. ‘About bloody time,’ he growled. ‘Did you think I’d give up and go away if you held out long enough? Fancy my stuff, do you?’
Jackson ignored him to flick the locks on the BMW. She put her case and Ben’s rucksack on the back seat. ‘I’m sorry if we’ve inconvenienced you,’ she said pleasantly enough. ‘The boot’s open, Lieutenant. Do you want to give Chalky his bags and take your own?’
The corporal moved quickly to prevent Acland removing anything. ‘I’ll do my own, thanks.’ He tossed out the kitbag, then looped his fingers into the remaining assortment of carriers and tatty holdalls. ‘What’s up?’ he asked Jackson suspiciously, stepping away from the car.
‘I’ll leave the lieutenant to explain it to you.’
‘Where are you taking the lad’s rucksack?’
‘Southwark East nick.’
‘Like hell you are. Anything he has in there he came by fair and square.’
‘Then there’s nothing to worry about,’ said Jackson, watching Acland close the boot after emptying it. ‘You can come with me if you like . . . kill two birds with one stone. Sign for the rucksack’s contents, so that nothing goes astray if everything’s kosher, and vouch for the kid’s honesty in front of the cops. Interested?’
‘Depends what you’ve found.’
‘A mobile that doesn’t belong to him.’
Chalky gave a grunt of disgust. ‘You can’t shop him for that. There’s dodgy phones all over London. Easiest bloody things to pinch. That’s no reason to give the lad grief.’
‘It’s not just any stolen mobile, Chalky. The man who owned it was murdered.’
He stared at her out of bloodshot eyes. ‘How do you know?’
‘I got it working,’ she said. ‘It’s still connected to the server. I think the police kept it alive in case anyone tried to use it.’
‘The lad won’t know anything about a murder . . . probably doesn’t even know who he stole it from. No need to say where you found it.’
Jackson shook her head. ‘I’m afraid I’ll have to.’ She opened the door. ‘The lieutenant’s making his own way from here. Do you want to do the same . . . or come with me? You’ll lessen the grief for Ben if there’s anything you know that might help him.’
Chalky shook his head. ‘There’s nothing ’cept what I’ve already told you. Him and me hardly know each other. Showed him a safe place to sleep and that’s about it. He came maybe five or six times.’
‘What did you talk about?’
‘Me . . . nothing. Him . . . music and some girl he was keen on. Never really listened . . . just let him rabbit on till he nodded off.’
‘You said you met him a month ago. Have you any idea how long he’d been in London before that?’
‘No. ’
‘You also said gays were interested in him. Do you know if he ever went with any of them? Would he have sold himself if he needed money?’
Disgustedly, Chalky spat on the ground, as if to demonstrate his feelings about anal sex. ‘Didn’t ask. Can’t stand the buggers. Just showed him a safe place to kip.’
‘What would your guess be?’
‘Depends what he’s on. Cider comes cheap . . . heroin comes expensive. Most of ’em do it if they’re on the drugs.’ He made to move away, but a strong emotion suddenly burst out of him. ‘It ain’t
right
!’ he said loudly. ‘It’s not just the lads these bastards are after, it’s the lasses as well. If you’re going to tell the cops anything, tell ’em that.’
‘Sure,’ said Jackson easily, ‘but which bastards are we talking about? Punters or dealers?’
‘
All
of ’em! They treat runaways like garbage. When they’re not emptying themselves into the poor little sods, they’re getting ’em hooked on heroin. It shouldn’t be allowed.’ He launched another globule of spit on to the tarmac. ‘You can’t blame the kid for turning vicious. It’s the only way any of ’em know how to survive.’ He nodded. ‘I’ll see you around some time.’
Jackson watched him walk away. ‘Are you coming?’ she asked Acland.
He stared after Chalky for a moment, then opened the back door and put his kitbag inside. ‘Yes.’
* If either had expected a sense of urgency to greet their arrival at the police station, they were disappointed. The team who’d interviewed Acland earlier had clocked off shortly after his release and the detective constable who was assigned to deal with them appeared to know less about Walter Tutting and Kevin Atkins than they did. Stressed about her work schedule, Jackson quickly
became irritated when he cut short her attempt at an explanation to pull out a form and ask for their names and addresses.
‘I don’t have time for this,’ she said curtly. ‘I’m on call. We need to talk to Detective Superintendent Jones or DI Beale as a matter of urgency –’ her eyes narrowed – ‘and you know perfectly well who I am. The WPC on reception gave you my name over the phone.’
The man looked at her with the same half-amused expression that had been on the faces of the people in A&E. ‘I still need your details, Ms Jackson.’
‘It’s
Dr
Jackson and
Lieutenant
Acland,’ she told him. ‘The Bell, Gainsborough Road. I guarantee the superintendent will not object to being woken if you inform him that we have Kevin Atkins’s mobile. It was on a homeless lad who’s been taken to St Thomas’s. Walter Tutting’s in the same hospital.’
He filled in their names and address. ‘Telephone number?’
‘Oh, for God’s sake,’ she snapped, losing her patience. ‘Just call the superintendent.’
‘When I’ve satisfied myself that it’s necessary.’
‘Then try DI Beale.’
‘Same answer.’
Jackson eyed him for a moment. ‘What time does the superintendent usually come in in the morning?’
The man shrugged. ‘I wouldn’t know. It depends on his shifts.’
‘Where can I leave a message for him?’
‘With me.’
She leaned forward. ‘Then put this: “Can’t get past the arrogant dickhead on night duty who has a problem with dykes. Urgent you contact Jackson ASAP at the Bell re gay murders. She has evidence linking a homeless man to Kevin Atkins.” Add the time and tell your boss we’ve taken the evidence with us because we don’t trust you to look after it properly.’ She handed the rucksack to Acland and stood up.
‘I’m merely following standard procedure, Dr Jackson,’ said the constable. ‘If I phoned the superintendent every time someone claimed to have important evidence, he’d be dead of exhaustion by now. Do I take it you’re terminating this interview because you no longer wish to report a crime?’
‘No. I’m terminating it because I haven’t the time to play up to your image of yourself. You can add that at the bottom of the message.’
‘What about you, sir?’ he asked Acland. ‘Have you anything to add?’
‘Only that, in your shoes, I’d consult with someone else before Dr Jackson and I leave.’ He paused. ‘I was signed off by a custody sergeant called Laver or Lavery. If he’s still on duty, you might do yourself a favour by talking to him.’
* ‘You should have let Jones eat him for breakfast,’ said Jackson after the door closed behind the constable. ‘Why so helpful suddenly? What’s a middle-aged Gruppenfu¨hrer to you?’ Acland shrugged. ‘He’s out of his depth. It’s obviously a big deal to wake the boss in the middle of the night.’ ‘He’s a small-minded bully with a power complex.’ ‘You’re not much better. You only took him on because he was an easy target. I didn’t notice you lamming into any of the patients in A&E for sneering at you.’ She leaned against the wall and crossed her arms. ‘It’s bad business practice to attack customers. Policemen are in a different category altogether. They have professional standards to uphold, which don’t include treating members of the public like a subspecies.’ Acland allowed a silence to develop. He still couldn’t decide what he thought about this woman. There was so much about her that repelled him – the forcefulness of her character, her outspokenness, her need to dominate every situation – and little to earn his sympathy other than admiration for her as a doctor and
a nagging resentment at the negative reactions she seemed to
attract from strangers. He looked up to find her staring at him.
‘What?’ he asked.
‘Is it me you have a problem with or women in general?’
Acland gave another shrug. ‘You enjoy intimidating people. Maybe the guy did know your name . . . and maybe he is a small-minded bigot . . . but he wasn’t going to think any better of you for being called an “arrogant dickhead”.’
Jackson refrained from pointing out that this wasn’t an answer to her question. Instead, she said, ‘Why should it matter what he thinks of me?’
‘It doesn’t.’
‘He’d have cocked his leg even higher if I’d been wearing a skirt and make-up,’ she responded lightly. ‘Most people take me for a bloke in drag...or a male transsexual going through gender reassignment. I receive fewer sniggers dressed like this –’ she uncrossed her arms and gestured towards her masculine attire – ‘than if I wear women’s clothes. A butch dyke in trousers and workman’s boots is less alarming than a muscular transvestite weightlifter in pastel pink.’
Briefly, humour creased the undamaged side of Acland’s face. ‘You wouldn’t wear pink in a million years. Not threatening enough. I bet you get a real buzz from seeing people move out of your way.’
Jackson watched him for a moment. ‘Is that what the scars and the pirate-patch do for you? Who moves aside faster? Men or women?’
He didn’t answer.
‘You want to be careful how you exploit that, Lieutenant. Some men get a taste for seeing fear in women’s eyes.’
*
The speed of events moved up a pace as soon as the superintendent arrived. He ignored the detective constable’s explanations about
how he couldn’t guarantee the mobile was Kevin Atkins’s because he hadn’t been allowed to see it and addressed his remarks to Jackson and Acland. ‘Where is it?’
‘Here.’ Jackson flipped the locks on her medical case and handed him the envelope. ‘The battery was dead but I used a Cellboost to fire it up because I thought it belonged to a homeless kid who’s in a diabetic coma in St Thomas’s. I was looking for next-of-kin details. It’s still switched on.’
Jones slipped the gadget on to the table. ‘Where did you find it?’
‘In this.’ She lifted the rucksack to show him. ‘It belongs to the boy – we think his name’s Ben Russell – although we haven’t been able to confirm that yet.’ She watched Jones touch the end of a pencil to one of the buttons to light up the LCD. ‘I went into ICE, which gave me Belinda Atkins, and then into Atkins. The number recorded under Kevin is the number of that phone. I recognized the name.’
‘His daughter’s name’s Belinda.’ Jones used the pencil to scroll down the screen. ‘Geoff and Tom are the sons, and Sarah’s his ex-wife . . . still recorded under Atkins. It’s definitely his.’ He looked up with a frown. ‘How did you unlock it? Or do we have Lieutenant Acland to thank for that?’
Jackson shook her head. ‘It was me.’ She described how she did it. ‘I’m not so au fait with other makes of phone, otherwise I might have had an attempt at the other one as well.’
‘Which other one?’
She nodded to the rucksack. ‘In here. Also a BlackBerry and some iPods.’
‘Quite a haul.’ He glanced from her to Acland. ‘Where does the lieutenant fit in?’
‘He’s staying with me.’
‘Meaning what? That you returned to the Bell to pick him up before you came here?’
Acland stirred when Jackson hesitated. ‘She came looking for me,’ he said. ‘I was with the boy and another man when she found me. We were sleeping rough in an alleyway. The kid went into a coma and Dr Jackson had him admitted to St Thomas’s when she realized how serious it was.’
Jones nodded. ‘Inspector Beale phoned to say you’d gone in the opposite direction. How well do you know this boy?’
‘I don’t know him at all,’ said Acland.
The superintendent gave a sceptical smile. ‘You expect me to believe that? You come into contact with two complete strangers in under twenty-four hours . . . Walter Tutting and this kid . . .
both
apparently connected with the same murder inquiry . . . and you claim you didn’t know either of them previously. That kind of coincidence doesn’t happen, Charles.’
‘Obviously it does or it wouldn’t have just happened to me.’
‘No one’s that unlucky.’
Acland pressed his palm over his eyepatch, grinding the heel into the throbbing nerve ends. ‘If I am, it’s working in your favour,’ he pointed out. ‘You wouldn’t have the phone if Jackson hadn’t followed me and the boy hadn’t fallen sick. A different doctor or a healthy kid, and the stuff would still be untouched in the rucksack.’
‘Assuming it was there in the first place. How long were you alone with the lad before Dr Jackson arrived?’
‘Never. The older guy was already in the alleyway when I got there.’
‘So there was no opportunity to switch items from the lad’s bag to yours, or vice versa, without anyone seeing you do it?’
‘No.’
‘And no opportunity to conveniently
lose
–’ he smiled again as he put emphasis on the word – ‘anything he was carrying for you?’
‘No . . . but that’s not what he was doing.’
‘Why should I believe that?’
Acland put out a hand to steady himself against the edge of the table. ‘I don’t know,’ he said harshly, ‘unless the boy tells you the same . . . except you won’t believe him either.’
‘You look ill,’ said Jones unemotionally. ‘I suggest you sit down before you fall over.’
‘No thank you. I’d rather stand.’ The lieutenant stepped away from the table and squared his shoulders.