DEAD GONE (17 page)

Rossi was writing everything down whilst Murphy tried to keep track. ‘What about death? Psychologically speaking what does death mean to you and your profession?’

Garner held Murphy’s gaze, cocked his head slightly. ‘We all deal with death differently, detective. I subscribe to Freud’s view on it personally.’ Garner said.

‘And what’s that?’ Murphy replied.

Garner was silent for a few seconds, still holding Murphy’s eyes. ‘Well, it’s quite simple really … it is the aim of all life.’

He watched them leave, looking out from his office window as they walked away from the building. He was searching for the word to describe how he was feeling. The one word which could sum up the sensation coursing through his veins. How he felt after what he’d done in the last few days.

Exhilarated.

Every fibre of his body was tingling with electricity. The hairs on the back of his neck stood on end, his hands shook when he lifted them up in front of his face. He wondered if the adrenaline pumping around his body would ever dissipate.

He’d barely slept since he’d started. Yet he didn’t feel tired at all.

He had never felt as alive as he did in that moment.

And the secret was death.

He was death, come to life. That was his purpose. That was what he had learned to become. He brought death to all he touched, in turn bringing a reason to his own existence.

He knew what his purpose was, the point of his being as successful as he had been. Born into wealth, education, being.

And now death.

His body shivered with excitement. What would be next?

Who would be next?

He looked out across the campus, shaking his head. Turned and added ice cubes to a glass, poured himself a drink. The cracking of the ice breaking the silence surrounding him. It probably wouldn’t be good to be seen drinking on the job, but he felt like celebrating.

They’d been here. And he was still free.

He couldn’t fail.

He lifted the tumbler to his lips, the ice had melted a little, taking the edge off the sharpness of the whisky. The smoothness remained, warming his throat as it travelled down.

That last girl. Pitiful. All that planning gone to waste.

The previous one, almost perfect. Watching her, high as a bird, seeing things he couldn’t imagine. Ending her life when it became time.

Almost.

Unit 731. The Asian Auschwitz. Not as famous as its inauspicious kin, yet the information was there if you wanted it.

And he had.

Fascinating.

They could only estimate the amount of people who had died there, anything between three thousand and two hundred thousand. Incredible numbers.

A labour camp for military research in China, during the Second World War. They performed tests to see the effects of grenades at various distances, but then went much further. Limbs were removed, pregnant victims had children ripped from their wombs without anaesthetic.

But it was the blood loss experiments which had fascinated him.

Intermitent bloodletting. That had been his plan for the bitch. Until she made him change his mind.

He’d come back to that one. One for the future perhaps. And what a future he had in store.

He’d been shown the light. And the dark.

He was grateful for both.

He turned over a fresh page of his writing pad. And began to write.

Experiment Five

Bystander Theory

How long can a dead body go unnoticed in a public place?

Not so much unnoticed, maybe ignored.

Make it apparent the person is dead?

Location important … Liverpool One, Liver Buildings, Albert Dock … somewhere big, accessible, lot of foot traffic.

He looked over what he had written. He knew the place. It was just a case of picking the person who would take part.

He had the perfect specimen.

Murphy and Rossi walked back to the car. Garner had been unable to help them any further, but his words had played on Murphy’s mind since the short meeting. Death seemed to be circling around him, constricting him.

‘What now?

Rossi was asking the pertinent question … what should they do?

‘We need to get a track on the two victims’ last movements,’ Murphy replied.

Murphy counted pubs they passed as they went back to the car. Four. Bloody students.

‘And I want a list of everyone who works in the psychology department. We start interviews with them all tomorrow.’

Rossi nodded in reply. She looked as tired as Murphy felt. ‘We should go to the library now. See if that librarian is working?’

‘Good thinking,’ Murphy replied, ‘may as well whilst we’re here.’

They trudged off towards the library, the effort of it beginning to grate on Murphy. He was tired, having had little sleep the night before, and the long day was catching up to him. ‘What did you make of the professor?’ Rossi said.

‘No idea. Struck me as a bit strange, but then, aren’t all those type of people.’

‘What about what he said about death? The Freud view of it?’

Murphy sighed deeply, unsure of how to respond. ‘I always thought Freud was all about wanting to shag your mother and that kind of weird stuff. Didn’t realise he had a sideline in sad sayings about death. I’ve no idea though. I don’t know if that’s a healthy outlook to have on life to be honest. If all you’re doing is waiting around to die, when do you actually live?’

Rossi turned to look at Murphy. ‘That’s a bit deep for you, sir.’

‘Yeah, well … I’m like an onion, Laura. I have hidden layers.’ Murphy replied.

‘I guess so.’

The library was at the end of the side street Rossi had pointed out before their visit with Professor Garner. It stood proudly, sprawling over a large area. Glass fronted, lit up in the late afternoon dusk.

Colin Woodland was sitting proudly behind the front desk, smiling as they approached, then quickly becoming serious when they announced who they were.

He took them into a room off the vast open space of the ground floor, explaining that books were kept on separate floors. Various computers were dotted around.

There were a few students about, but Colin explained it would be quiet for the next week or so.

He didn’t stop talking. Murphy was getting even more exhausted just by listening to him. On the walk to the staff room, he’d more or less given them the entire layout for the university, and the university schedule. Rossi looked to be revelling in it, interjecting with questions every now and again.

They sat down on comfortable chairs in a small kitchenette area. A low coffee table separated Murphy and Rossi from Colin Woodland. He was a small man, late forties, Murphy guessed. The wisps of hair which had been missed when he’d shaved that morning, stood out on his little round face. A faint mix of Lynx bodyspray and sweat oozed off him.

‘Would you like a drink or something?’ Colin said, starting to stand up again.

They both said no, eager to move on. They explained why they were there, receiving a shocked gasp when they told him the name of the second victim.

‘We take it you knew her then?’

Colin took his hands away from his face. ‘Yes. She was a mature student. Used to do quite a bit of studying in the evenings when it was quiet. Nice woman. Intelligent too.’

‘Do you remember seeing her last Thursday evening?’

Colin thought on that, his tongue sliding forward to lick his bottom lip. ‘I think so. I was working that night.’

‘Did you see anyone hanging around, anything suspicious?’

‘No. I’d have called security if so. We have CCTV covering the entrance. I’ll get you the tapes. Such a shame. And so soon after the other girl. What is going on?’

‘We’re looking into a number of possibilities, Mr Woodland,’ Rossi answered.

‘Wait. There was something. A couple of nights before that Thursday. Stephanie was here studying, but she seemed distracted. She came to the entrance a few times, looked out, but then went straight back up. Like she was waiting for someone.’

Rossi wrote the information down. ‘Thanks. That could come in handy.’

‘Such nice girls here. So fresh faced and pure. Cherries waiting to be picked.’ He looked past their shoulders, god knows what images going through his mind.

Murphy looked towards Rossi, knowing the look he was going to get. He started talking before she had a chance to say anything. ‘Well, that’s … erm … an interesting way of putting it.’ He stood. ‘We’ll leave you to it.’

Rossi started to say something, but Murphy shot her a look.

It was almost six p.m. when they made it back to the car. The day was turning to darkness. February was just around the corner; spring would be upon them before they knew it.

‘I don’t like him,’ Rossi said, getting into the car and pulling the seat forward.

‘Really?’ Murphy said, sarcasm dripping from his tone.

‘Yeah. Very creepy. The way he started talking about the students.’

Murphy went over the end of the conversation. What he’d listened to anyway. He’d tuned out most of the rest once they’d moved on. Probably a mistake, but he was glad Rossi was paying attention. ‘We’ll be having a meeting when we get back. We’ll mention his name, see if anyone can come up with anything on him.’

‘If you don’t mind me saying, sir, you look a little tired. Maybe you should …’

‘I’m fine,’ Murphy snapped. ‘Stop babying me, Laura. I’m your superior remember. Keep going, and that fat bastard will be walking next to me quicker than you can say fuck all.’

‘Of course.’ Rossi replied. An uncomfortable silence followed, which Rossi once again cut off. ‘So, we go back the station then?’

‘No. Let’s get something to eat first. My treat.’

Rossi smiled, Murphy’s snap at her forgotten, or so he hoped.

DCI Stephens held court in the meeting room, sitting at the only desk in there. Keeping an eye on Murphy, probably. She was looking more anxious by the hour, biting her manicured fingernails every now and again. Probably regretting her decision as this case grew into more of a mess, Murphy thought.

He was standing off to her side, bringing everyone up to date on what was happening on both murder cases. He listened as the other officers detailed their own work that day, the house-to-house enquiries coming to nothing. Various interviews with family members, possible witness sightings.

All nothing.

Next, the preliminary results of the phone calls which had been coming in since the TV appeal earlier that day. He delegated a few of the more interesting leads to the DCs who were coming on shift. Every now and again he’d pause, take a deep breath before carrying on. The pressure was increasing; he could feel it in every sideways look from his DCI, every whispered conversation between the other detectives.

He wrapped up the meeting within half an hour, sending home the team who had been working all day. Stephens then told him to do the same.

Murphy thanked his lucky stars and got the hell out of there.

Rossi remembered about the girlfriend five minutes after Murphy had left. Flatmate of the first victim, her boyfriend had argued with Donna McMahon but the girlfriend had given him an alibi.

Rossi didn’t think that would stick. Something wasn’t right and she had to make sure they weren’t screwing up.

She scribbled down the mobile number they’d been given by Rebecca and tried calling it on her way out of the station. Switched off. She could swing by the flat on the way home. The packet of instant noodles could wait another half an hour or so.

Rossi thought about ringing Murphy and letting him know what she was doing, but decided against it. He needed the time away, even if it was just a few hours. She was fresher than he was. He could do with her showing a bit more ambition, relieving the pressure a little.

She drove the short distance through the city centre and arrived at the students’ flat within minutes of leaving the station. She parked up on a quiet side street and tried to call Rebecca again. No answer.

Rossi reached the flat and pressed the buzzer for entry. Waited for thirty seconds and then tried again. She took a step back, peering upwards to see if she could work out which flat was Rebecca’s. Most of the windows were in darkness. She tried the buzzer, pulling her phone out as she did so, waited another couple of minutes, and turned to leave.

The door opened behind her. A young girl, looking impossibly fresh faced and small in the large doorway appeared. Rossi took out her ID and introduced herself.

That was how she found herself on Matthew Street, music pounding in her ears, as she searched three different clubs for Rebecca. In for a penny, in for a pound as they say. Although it’d cost her six quid to get in the current one. The nightclub was on three levels, different types of music on each, although in Rossi’s sober state, they all blended into one thumping bassline.

She found Rebecca on the second floor, ensconced in a corner booth, talking in another girl’s ear. Rossi waited to be noticed, and Rebecca didn’t disappoint. The look of surprise, which was then followed quickly by nervousness, set Rossi on alert.

She had to shout above the din. ‘We need to talk,’ she said and pointed to the stairway which led out of the main dancefloor. Rebecca gave a quick glance to the girl she was sitting with, but Rossi was already turning.

Once out in the relatively quieter area, Rossi made sure Rebecca positioned herself against the wall. ‘Just wanted a quick chat,’ Laura told her, getting in close so she could hear every word.

‘Now … here?’

‘No time like the present.’

‘What’s going on?’

Rossi moved slightly so someone could get past her. ‘It’s about your boyfriend. I want to know where he was that night.’

Rebecca’s eyes shifted away. ‘What night?’

Rossi gave her the best ‘don’t mess with me’ look she could come up with. Wasn’t sure if it came out right, but it seemed to have some effect.

‘He was with me.’

‘I think you’re lying. This is serious, Rebecca. If you’re found to be covering for him, you’re going to be in trouble as well you know.’