M. Arlidge - Little Boy Blue

‘Force of personality.’

‘What about the restraints? Do you ever use hog ties, for example?’

‘Of course.’

‘Have you ever used them front ways on? Securing the hands to the ankles so the back is bent forwards?’

‘Yes, it’s more painful that way.’

‘Did you do that to Paine?’ Helen said, looking Parker directly in the eye.

‘Yes,’ she replied, refusing to be intimidated.

‘Did you use any other restraints?’

‘Tape, leather – I was very thorough. I wanted every inch of that boy to be covered.’

‘And can I ask what time you left Paine’s flat?’

‘I honestly can’t remember.’

‘Roughly.’

‘Around eleven, I suppose.’

‘And then you went home.’

‘As I’ve said before, yes.’

Helen sat back in her chair. She had won this battle but lost the war and suddenly felt drained of energy. Her sincere vows to bring Jake’s killer to justice seemed a mockery now.

‘Why are you lying to me, Samantha?’

‘I’m not.’

‘You didn’t leave Paine’s flat at eleven, you left much earlier and headed straight down to the docks for some rough trade.’

‘That’s bullshit.’

‘We’ve got you on CCTV so there’s no point lying. Is that how you got those bruises? Things get nasty in that van, did they?’

‘I was with Paine,’ Samantha insisted.

‘Yes, but he was fine when you left him.’

‘I’ve told you what happened, how he died -’

‘You’ve recycled the details of Jake Elder’s death. Max Paine died in a Zentai suit, with his arms tied backwards in hog ties. You tried hard, but you were wrong on pretty much every detail.’

‘You’re lying.’

‘Did something similar happen at the Torture Rooms? Why were you leaving in such a state? Did someone reject you, push you away?’

Samantha hesitated too long, giving Helen her answer.

‘I thought so.’

‘This is bullshit.’

‘You know, this is a first for me. I’ve never had a suspect who’s so keen to be charged with a double murder. You’ve been wasting my time, haven’t you, Samantha?’

‘You’ve got it wrong,’ Samantha said, now visibly flustered.

‘No, you’ve got it wrong,’ Helen said, rising. ‘We’re done here.’

Helen stabbed off the tape and walked to the door, pausing as she opened it.

‘Good luck, Samantha.’

Then, without waiting for a reply, she left.

It was mid-morning and the Pound Shop was heaving. Beleaguered mums juggled maxi packs of Monster Munch, while old age pensioners scoured the shelves for bargains, keen to eke out their weekly budget a little further. It was an odd place to be plotting a murder.

The tall, slender figure sailed through the crowds, amused by the sights on display. All these people were so bound up in their own lives, scrabbling in the bargain bins, ladling pick-and-mix into crumpled bags, that they couldn’t see what was right in front of them. What would they say if they knew? Would they be horrified? Or excited?

The police were no better. Grace’s team had pulled in a messed-up shemale who might interest them for a while. But they were wide of the mark and, though Grace would presumably cotton on soon, she wouldn’t be in time to prevent the next death. It was only hours away and already those same feelings were rising. Excitement. Tension. Control. Release.

This one would be a little bit different though. It wouldn’t do to become predictable and now was the time to really give the police something to think about. Whereas the others had been works of art, this would be more down to earth, more homespun. This one would make them sit up and take note.

The cashier was ringing through the basket, chatting amiably. In her own mindless way she was becoming an accessory to murder. This was probably the most exciting thing that would ever happen to her and yet she was totally unaware of it, believing that this was just another routine sale of mundane domestic items.

But it was more than that. Much more than that. This was the beginning of the end.

‘I need everything you’ve got.’

Meredith Walker had been about to tuck into a well-earnt sandwich when Helen Grace burst through the doors. Her colleague seemed angry and frustrated and, as Meredith was brought up to speed with developments, it wasn’t hard to see why. The pair of them were now shut away in Meredith’s office, reams of paper spread out on the desk in front of them.

‘Every last detail. The answer has to be here somewhere.’

‘You’d think, wouldn’t you?’

‘This guy’s not a ghost, he’s flesh and blood. He can’t just visit these scenes and leave no trace.’

‘I’ll admit it’s odd, but he has clearly been very careful. He wears a body suit, perhaps a mask, and never takes his gloves off. There are no prints on Paine’s thermostat, nothing on the door handles or on the Zentai suit, the hog ties -’

‘What about more circumstantial stuff? From the corridors, outside Paine’s flat, in the bins.’

‘We’re still sweeping, but any defence would have a field day with the possibilities of cross-contamination -’

‘I need something here.’

‘I understand that, but we can’t magic up the evidence.’

‘What about the Torture Rooms? What have we got there?’

‘Twenty-three different sources of DNA at the crime scene. I think your lot have been over these already.’

‘What else?’

‘We’ve got a number of DNA sources in close proximity to the corridor which we haven’t been able to match.’

‘What do you mean by “a number”? ’

Meredith lifted a file on her desk to reveal another, from which she now pulled a sheet of paper.

‘We have… a few beer bottles, a cigarette butt, a used condom, a glove. All of them containing DNA which we can’t match to anyone on file.’

‘He’s unlikely to have had sex – the MO doesn’t suggest it’s that sort of crime – but perhaps one of the others?’

Meredith half nodded, half shrugged – she looked as unconvinced as Helen sounded. Helen rubbed her face with her hands and stared at the sheets of paper on the desk. So much data, such little progress.

‘Do you think we’ll catch him?’ Helen said suddenly.

‘It’s early days, Helen.’

‘There’s always going to be one that gets away though, isn’t there?’

‘He’ll make a mistake. They always do. And when he does, you’ll be waiting for him. I have every confidence in you.’

Helen thanked Meredith, then headed off. She was grateful for her support, but the truth was that this case was so unusual and so puzzling that she was genuinely concerned about the outcome.

For the first time in years, Helen was beginning to doubt herself.

‘They haven’t got a bloody clue.’

David Simons’s tone was withering.

‘They arrest someone, let him go. Arrest someone else, let her go…’

Emilia nodded and let Simons rant. Like many in the BDSM community, he had had his hopes raised by the arrest of Michael Parker. News of Parker’s sudden release was therefore a kick in the teeth that had been met with a wave of anger. Many were confused, others were scared, but none had the personal connection that Simons had. Which is why he was blowing a gasket now.

‘It’s incredibly frustrating,’ Emilia said, when Simons eventually drew breath. ‘We all want to get justice for Jake and the investigation seems… unfocused at best. Which is why I wanted to talk to you.’

Simons suddenly looked up, intrigued and surprised.