THE MURDERER'S SON a gripping crime thriller full of twists Read online

  Since Marie could think of no answer to this, Orac turned back to her desk and picked up a hefty folder. ‘This is everything I could find without breaking the law too badly. Luckily there was a fair bit of information still squirreled away in old files. Plus I’m trying to isolate possible relocation sites for the evidence boxes, and,’ she handed Marie a slip of paper with a name and a number on it, ‘I think this could be the best bit.’

  ‘Peter Hodder?’

  ‘He’s the DI who led up the Haines double murder enquiry. He retired eons ago and his biological clock should have stopped a decade back, but I suspect he’s a covert android. I’ve spoken to him and he’s as switched on as the Blackpool Lights. If you want to know about Françoise Thayer, I suggest you take a short trip over the county line to Rutland and go see Peter Hodder.’ She passed Marie the folder. ‘He’s a really sweet old guy, and was clearly badly affected by Thayer. It was his last case and I almost heard his teeth grind when I mentioned her name.’ Orac blinked those odd eyes. ‘But even so, he’s willing to talk to you.’

  ‘Thanks for that. I really appreciate it.’ She looked back to the complex monitor screen. ‘I’d better leave you to your algebra.’

  Orac swung her chair back to face her screen. ‘I hear you have a well-messed-up Jane Doe in the mortuary? Any luck with tracing her identity?’

  ‘Sadly she’s not quite presentable enough to circulate pictures — well, not without giving half the population nightmares.’

  ‘If you let me have the forensic photos of the head, exact measurements of the skull and any confirmed details about her size, colouring etc., I’m trialling a new version of FADAR.’

  ‘I’m sure I should know what you’re talking about, er . . . ?’

  ‘Facial Description And Recognition program. It’s my own design, software that takes forensic facial reconstruction to a whole different level. It’s a fusion of forensic science, anthropology, osteology and anatomy. Your boss would be so interested in this, given his academic background, if he ever found the time to venture down here.’

  ‘I’m sure he would,’ said Marie sincerely. ‘But could you really give us an idea of what she looked like?’

  ‘Simple. Get me that data, and she’s all yours. Now would you like 2-D, or 3-D?’

  ‘Whatever you think is best. I’ll get onto that as soon as the forensic department opens tomorrow.’

  ‘If you ring now there’s a chance of getting it tonight. I think you’ll find that that oddball Jacobs and one or two of his acolytes are working late this evening.’

  ‘How the hell do you know that?’

  Orac gave her a wicked half-smile. ‘It’s not too difficult to tap into the security camera system over at the mortuary and the forensic laboratories. I checked the car park just before your arrival and Jacobs and his little band are still slaving away.’

  ‘Right.’ Marie was already embarking on a fantasy about Orac being Big Brother. She pulled her phone from her pocket. ‘In which case, I’ll request it straightaway.’

  Orac had been correct. Surprisingly, the pathologist who answered the phone said that he could retrieve the information quite easily and would email it directly to Orac.

  ‘Nice one,’ said Marie appreciatively to the IT wizard. ‘It doesn’t always come together as easily as that.’

  ‘It does when you know exactly where everyone is.’

  ‘I see your point. Well, thanks again. This is all a really great help.’

  ‘No problem. I’ll send you the reconstructed picture of your Jane Doe as soon as I have it.’ Orac had already turned away and her eyes were fixed on the screen of moving figures. ‘Come back anytime.’

  Marie stopped outside the closed door and took a deep breath. Orac being nice? More than that, Orac being nice, helpful and friendly?

  Marie shook her head in puzzlement, and with the heavy folder firmly under her arm, made her way back to the lifts.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  ‘The preliminary forensic reports are in, Sarge,’ Charlie said as soon as Marie entered the CID room. ‘The guvnor has them now.’

  ‘Great, and I have a whole load of info on the Haines murders, and an intro to the retired DI who arrested Françoise Thayer.’

  ‘How’s the custody clock on Kinder, Sarge?’

  ‘We have until ten p.m. to either charge or release him,’ Marie said. ‘And it’s still six of one, half a dozen of the other as to what we do with him. Let’s pray that the forensics will help.’

  Max grimaced. ‘Anyone fancy a little flutter? Ten to one they find something that connects Dimbo Danny with Jane Doe. Any takers?’ He waited for a moment. ‘Thought not.’

  Inside Jackman’s office, Marie discovered that she had been right not to accept Max’s wager.

  ‘I’d get more bloody help from a horoscope reading!’ He threw the forensic report across the desk. ‘Jane Doe. No DNA, no blood other than hers, no scars, birthmarks or tattoos, and no fingerprints that tally with anything on our computer system. The only small ray of hope is that one of Jacob’s greatest skills is pin-pointing time of death. He’s certain, having taken into account the fluctuating temperatures in that cellar and the state of decomposition, along with the opinion of a consultant forensic entomologist, that she had been dead for around twenty-one days.’

  ‘Well, that’s somewhere to start, isn’t it? And don’t get too suicidal about identifying her, because I come bearing tidings of great joy.’ Marie told him about Orac, and watched his face clear from outbreaks of thunder to bright sunny spells.

  ‘Orac? Are we talking about the same person?’

  ‘Could there possibly be more than one?’ asked Marie with eyes wide.

  ‘There has to be, if the one you spoke to is offering to help us out. Orac doesn’t work like that. Perhaps there are two of them. Maybe she has an evil twin.’

  ‘Let’s not knock it, huh? A picture of Jane Doe is exactly what we need right now. And, sir?’ She looked at him almost admonishingly. ‘It really wouldn’t hurt to go down and thank her if we get a successful identification.’

  Jackman looked shifty. ‘Mm, well . . . Let’s see what she comes up with first.’

  Marie placed Orac’s files on his desk. ‘She’s already come up with all this on the Haines murder case, and made contact with the arresting DI.’

  ‘Now you are freaking me out. What does she want, do you think?’

  At a rough guess, thought Marie, the answer was Jackman. ‘Pass, but there’s a lot of useful stuff here. I suggest that as soon as we’ve spoken to Skye and Daniel, the boys and I get to work on this little lot. Then we can at least find out something concrete about Françoise Thayer and her natural-born son.’

  Jackman nodded. ‘I agree. Now let’s go eat before Miss Wynyard gets here.’

  * * *

  Jackman had tried to keep the atmosphere relaxed. And it had worked, until he asked her how much time she had spent in Daniel’s company on a certain few days three weeks previously.

  ‘Something else has happened, hasn’t it?’ Skye’s composure shattered. ‘Oh no!’

  Marie nodded slowly. ‘It hasn’t reached the press yet, and we would be grateful if you could keep it to yourself, but another body has been found.’

  ‘And you suspect Daniel? That means you are taking this whole ridiculous scenario seriously!’ Her voice dropped almost to a whisper. ‘I thought you understood.’

  ‘We have to take what Daniel tells us seriously, Skye. Supposing we ignored his statement and he turned out to be telling the truth.’ Jackman kept his tone reasonable. ‘And Daniel does know a lot about Alison Fleet.’

  ‘Hardly surprising. He’s spent the last decade studying murder.’ Skye sighed. ‘I think his mother knew Alison Fleet. I wouldn’t even be surprised if Daniel hadn’t visited the Fleets’ house at some time with Ruby Kinder. Both women were heavily involved in charitable causes.’

  Jackman sat up. ‘You never mentioned that before.’

 
‘So much was going on that I never even thought about it. It’s just that when I was cleaning up the house after the scene-of-crime officers, I was dusting some picture frames and I saw a photograph of Daniel’s mother and father at a charity race night, and Alison Fleet and her husband were at their table.’

  ‘So, there is a connection between them,’ breathed Marie.

  ‘But it’s something of a double-edged sword, isn’t it?’ added Jackman. ‘The fact that they knew each other could indicate that Daniel had a motive to hurt her, and it could also be a simple explanation of how he knows the layout of Berrylands.’

  Guy Preston, who had been listening intently, finally spoke. ‘Let’s go back to Daniel’s whereabouts when the other woman died.’ He smiled gently at Skye. ‘Were you staying with Daniel on the dates mentioned?’

  Skye leant forward and picked up her handbag from the floor. She removed a narrow pocket diary and began turning the pages. Then her shoulders sagged. ‘No. I was at Sheffield Hallam University. It was a three-day career workshop for OTs. I stayed over with an old school friend who works at the uni.’ She closed the diary and Jackman saw tears forming in her eyes. ‘Does Daniel know about this other death?’

  ‘Not yet. But we will need to know where he was, before our time for holding him in custody runs out.’

  ‘He was at home alone, or at his office working.’ Skye’s voice was shaky. ‘I rang him several times. You can check my mobile phone records, if it will help him.’

  ‘That doesn’t prove anything, I’m afraid. He could have been anywhere.’

  ‘Sometimes I rang the house, I’m sure I did.’

  Poor kid, thought Jackman, she’s clutching at straws.

  Preston sat forward. ‘Skye, I’m very interested in what Daniel calls his “gaps.” Have you ever witnessed Daniel having one of these memory lapses?’

  ‘Yes, although they generally happen when he’s alone. He goes off somewhere, then he can’t recall where he’s been. If you are around when it happens, he just seems to be distant, in a sort of dream state for a short period of time. It doesn’t last long, but it is disturbing, believe me.’

  ‘I do. I’ve seen it before, and unless I’m mistaken, it’s not amnesia.’

  Jackman listened with interest. ‘So what is it?’

  ‘It’s a “fugue state,” known as a dissociative fugue. The sufferer can very suddenly decide to make a trip away from home, and then have a complete inability to recall anything about it.’

  ‘And what causes it?’ asked Jackman.

  ‘Severe stress, although there are a few medical causes, like epilepsy or complex partial seizures or substance abuse, but they are rare. It’s generally stress-related.’

  ‘Can you cure these fugues, Professor Preston?’ asked Skye.

  ‘Psychotherapy or hypnosis can be useful, but a psychiatrist needs to exclude the medical causes before any treatment is offered.’

  ‘There’s something else that you should know,’ Skye said slowly. ‘Daniel has no memory of anything prior to his fifth birthday. His whole early childhood is a total blank.’

  There was a silence. Then Guy Preston asked, ‘Do you know the reason for that?’

  ‘His mother said he had an accident. Apparently he fell from a swing and sustained a head injury.’ She looked at the doctor. ‘She said that his “gaps” most likely stemmed from that.’

  Preston drew in a deep breath. ‘It’s feasible, I suppose, if the damage was severe. But a fall from a child’s swing? I’m not convinced it would cause fugues. They are much more related to stress.’

  ‘And could he kill, during one of these episodes?’ Jackman asked.

  ‘People have been known to assume new identities while they are in these states, so the answer, I suppose, is possibly.’ Guy bit his lip. ‘If Daniel is suffering from a mental disorder, there could be a partial or complete breakdown of the control he would normally have over his thoughts, emotions and behaviour. In his “other” identity, he might have a very different set of values to the Daniel Kinder that you know.’

  ‘A split personality?’ asked Marie.

  ‘No. Multiple personalities are quite different. The fugue state is simply a reaction to severe stress.’

  ‘And if you were able to relieve that stress?’ suggested Jackman.

  ‘The fugues would most likely dissipate organically.’

  ‘Which brings us firmly back to Françoise Thayer and the fact that our prisoner believes he is the murderer’s son,’ growled Marie.

  Guy nodded. ‘I agree. So why don’t we sort out that little conundrum?’

  ‘Ha!’ Skye barked out a sharp, humourless laugh. ‘I have been trying to do that for months! And Daniel has for years! It’s not that simple.’

  Marie leaned across and touched Skye’s arm. ‘Hey, listen. We have access to channels that you don’t. We have a huge technological support system at our disposal, and we’ll use it. We need those answers as badly as you and Daniel, because if he’s not the killer, someone else is, and they are getting away with murder.’

  ‘Absolutely,’ said Jackman. ‘Now, we are going to have a word with Daniel. We are not sure whether he will be charged or released, but either way, we’d like him to cooperate and work closely with Professor Preston here. We’d like you to be there too, as long as Daniel is in agreement. Would you do that?’

  ‘Of course.’ There was no hesitation. ‘Right, the sergeant and I will go talk to him, and then you can see him for a while.’ He stood up. ‘Not alone of course, but I’m sure you can understand that.’

  Skye simply said, ‘Thank you.’

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  ‘Nice drum, huh?’

  Kevin Stoner stared gloomily out of the car window at the big executive-style house. ‘I suppose. If you like that kind of thing.’

  Zane Prewett licked his lips. ‘Oh, do cheer up, my little friend! Surely you’d like a swanky flash pad like that? I didn’t see all of upstairs when we were here with the SOCOs, but I bet it’s got a king-size water bed, and mirrors all around the master bedroom. I’ve already sussed the log cabin with the hot tub in the back garden, and a very useful games room, with a well-stocked bar no less.’ He nudged Kevin. ‘Think what you and some of your pretty little friends could get up to in a place like this.’

  Kevin kept his eyes on the Kinder property, and tried to pretend that he was alone in the car.

  ‘Oh well,’ said Prewett. ‘Even if your imagination has gone on strike, mine hasn’t. And right now, I’m seeing some very juicy pussy getting naked in that tub.’

  ‘Shut up, Prewett! I’m sick of listening to your foul mouth! So just give it a break, will you?’ Kevin slumped back in his seat and gritted his teeth.

  ‘Oooh, touchy, aren’t we?’ Prewett swung round and faced him. ‘But I’d be a bit careful if I were you, Mary-Jane. You’re starting to piss me off with your holier-than-thou attitude, when I’ve got certain evidence to prove that you’re nothing but a dirty little hypocrite. I mention “pussy” and its filth, but you can shag some fairy up against a wall and that’s alright. Catch my drift?’

  ‘But I don’t think sex is everything, Zane. Not like you. It’s just a small part of my life, and sadly for me, it just happens to be one you’ve found out about.’

  ‘Yeah, bummer ain’t it?’

  Kevin knew he couldn’t go on like this. If it was just down to him and Zane, maybe he’d actually take the bastard on. He’d throw up his hands and tell his father that he was being blackmailed because he was gay, then turn the tables on Prewett and cough up all the shady deals that he knew the bent copper was involved in. But when Prewett was threatening his young niece, Sophie . . . That was too much of a risk to take. Kevin knew that most bullies are cowards, but he had the feeling that Prewett really would carry out his threat, and no way would he put Sophie or any of his family in jeopardy. There had to be another way.

  As Kevin drove slowly up the tree-lined street, he tried to think clearly.
He edged the car out onto the river road and felt his tense neck muscles begin to relax. Maybe it was time to stop thinking like the bishop’s son. He’d turned the other cheek far too often. Zane Prewett clearly deserved a different kind of treatment.

  By the time they were back at the station, a tiny embryo of a plan had formed in his mind, and for the first time in months, PC Kevin Stoner felt almost happy.

  * * *

  As Jackman was about to enter the interview room, a civilian handed him a brown envelope. ‘Just arrived, sir. From the Home Office pathologist.’

  Jackman tore open the seal and quickly scanned the toxicology report. The attached note simply said, “Interesting,” and was signed by Jacobs. ‘What the hell . . . ?’

  Marie looked at him and tilted her head.

  ‘Alison Fleet had enough happy pills in her system to cheer up half the county.’

  ‘Antidepressants?’ Marie looked confused. ‘But didn’t Bruce Fleet say she wasn’t on any medication?’

  ‘Well, he actually said none that he knew of, which is a different thing I suppose. But all the same, it’s odd. I’d always thought that her OTT exuberance was a natural thing. Perhaps she was just permanently high as a kite.’

  ‘Then we need to speak to her GP.’

  ‘Pop back and ask either Max or Charlie to get onto it straightaway.’ He handed her the report. ‘People don’t take that kind of medication without good reason.’

  ‘I wonder if it’s connected to her first husband, the one that Bruce Fleet doesn’t know about.’

  ‘Doesn’t know, or won’t talk about.’ Jackman said thoughtfully. ‘I think we should go have another word with Mr Fleet. I can’t believe he knew so little about his loving wife, can you?’

  ‘Then let’s get this interview over, and go pay him a call.’

  As it turned out, the interview was far from the breakthrough that Jackman had expected.