M. Arlidge - Little Boy Blue

Time was pressing now, so she slid into her jumpsuit, reaching over her shoulder to zip herself up. Then marching into the bathroom, she applied the final touches. Coloured contact lenses, changing her irises from light blue to a deep chocolate brown. Her hair looked dark and slick, her face uncharacteristically pale and the eyes that stared back at her were those of a stranger. She didn’t recognize herself. She hoped others wouldn’t either.

Her preparations were complete now, so there was no point hesitating. Switching off the light, she walked quickly towards the front door. It was time to do battle again.

‘I’m going to release Paul Jackson.’

Helen had dragged the entire team into the briefing room. They looked shocked at the news – Charlie in particular – but Helen wasn’t in the mood for a discussion. Jackson might still have a role to play in the case, but in her mind at least he wasn’t the elusive, sadistic killer they were hunting. Crushing though it was to have to admit it, they were back to square one.

‘It’s only on bail and he’ll be under surveillance, but I want us to widen our search and consider other possibilities. We should assume for now that Jake Elder’s murder was not an opportunist act. The careful choice of venue, the credit card fraud, plus the tactics employed by the perpetrator to conceal the purchase of the items used suggests a high level of planning.’

‘Does that mean the perpetrator had a special grievance against Elder, that he’d been plotting his murder for some time?’ DC Reid offered.

‘Have we found anything in Elder’s communications or recent history to support that? Has he angered anybody recently?’ Helen responded.

‘Nothing on the drugs or money front,’ Lucas replied.

‘Nor in his private or professional life,’ Edwards said, overlapping. ‘His life seems pretty… empty, to be honest.’

Helen felt a sharp stab of guilt but, swallowing it, pressed on.

‘In which case we have to consider the possibility that whoever did this has no personal animus against Elder.’

‘Perhaps it’s what he represents?’ DC Lucas said.

‘Could be a hate crime,’ Sanderson added, overlapping. ‘Anti-gay? Anti-BDSM?’

‘Maybe, but if so I’d have expected someone to have claimed responsibility for the murder,’ Helen replied. ‘Or posted some kind of justification for their actions. Let’s keep an eye on that – see if anyone surfaces in the next twenty-four hours.’

‘Maybe they just get off on the thrill of it,’ DC Edwards said. ‘The sense of control, playing God. Maybe whoever did this enjoyed watching Elder die -’

‘He’d be taking a chance when anyone could have walked in,’ Helen interrupted quickly, keen not to dwell on this thought.

‘Perhaps,’ Edwards countered, ‘but according to Blakeman there’s a kind of unwritten rule in that club. If the door’s closed, it means “do not disturb”.’

‘What about exposure?’ Sanderson now offered. ‘By killing him he’s revealing to the world what Elder really was. A dominator, a “pervert”…’

Helen nodded, suppressing her alarm. She had seen this kind of thing before in the Ella Matthews case, a young prostitute who’d killed her male clients to expose them. Could this latest murder be a copycat killing of her awful crimes?

‘But that would suggest that the killer isn’t part of the BDSM scene,’ Charlie objected. ‘Which doesn’t hold water for me. I think our killer knew the club, knew the scene and was very deliberate in his choice of target.’

Sanderson said nothing. Nor did her colleagues. As Helen had predicted, everybody knew about their earlier row and they were keen to avoid getting involved.

‘In the absence of any specific pointers, we’ll have to keep an open mind on the perpetrator’s motivation,’ Helen said, shooting a warning look to both Sanderson and Charlie. ‘For now, let’s deal with what we know . Our killer was calm, methodical -’

‘Suggesting that he’s done this before?’ Reid offered.

‘Maybe. We should certainly consider the possibility that our killer has a criminal past. Let’s look for the obvious – hate crimes, false imprisonment – but I also want us to check out anyone who’s been convicted of credit card fraud in the last five years and cross-reference their names against those already on our list. How are we doing with our Snapchatters?’

‘Apart from Jackson, we’ve tracked down seven of the twenty – all of whom have alibis,’ Charlie replied.

‘Not good enough. That’s twelve possible suspects who like to conceal their identities and who have a strong personal link to the deceased. Chase them down quickly , please.’

Charlie nodded but said nothing, so Helen continued:

‘Edwards, I’d like you to do some further credit card digging for me. This is our killer’s only footprint so far. How did he get Lynn Picket’s card details? Check her friends, family, workmen who visited the house – anybody who could have gained access to her bag. Check where she shops, which internet sites she uses and ask the tech boys to investigate whether her card details could have been sold as part of a bundle on the internet or dark web. If our killer prefers anonymity, he may favour using a Tor browser.’

‘I’ll get them on to it straight away.’

‘I’ve also asked DS Sanderson to draw up a list of names from last night’s Munch. I’m sure word’s spread about our presence on the scene,’ Helen went on, ‘and it’s going to be hard for us to place someone else there, but we can at least follow up on the intel we do have.’

‘I’ll circulate the list to everyone,’ Sanderson added quickly. ‘Our main person of interest is “Samantha”, a mid-op transsexual – male to female – who indulges in extreme BDSM and has a history of assault, ABH and so on.’

‘Finally, I’m going to ask DC McAndrew to keep us all up to date with any forensic developments,’ Helen concluded. ‘In the absence of any other direct DNA sources on the victim’s body, we’ll need to interrogate the other traces found in the room and its environs. If there’s a match to someone with a criminal past – however trivial – we need to know about it.’

There was a silence in the room as everyone looked to Helen once more.

‘Well, don’t just stand there,’ she barked at them. ‘There’s a killer out there and he’s laughing at us.’

And with that she turned, heading for the sanctuary of her office.

Helen pushed the door to and tossed her jacket on to the sofa. She felt drained and dispirited, her high hopes of the morning dashed. She needed time and space to gather her thoughts – gather herself – but she had only just made it back to her desk when she heard Charlie’s angry voice:

‘You could have spoken to me first…’

Helen turned to see Charlie shutting the door behind her. Helen stared at her, then at the door, irritated by this act of insubordination. She was not in the mood to be crossed today.

‘I wasn’t under the impression I had to run my decisions past you,’ Helen replied, just about holding her anger in check.

‘Jackson is a good suspect.’

‘I agree, but you were in that interview room. Do you think he’s guilty?’

‘It’s too early to say. We have to go at him again.’

‘He’s being released as we speak.’

‘Why, for God’s sake? We’ve interviewed him once . We can hold him for at least another forty-eight hours -’

‘Because if he is an innocent man, I don’t intend to ruin his life completely. He has already been the subject of some pretty vile speculation in the press -’