James Carol - The Quiet Man

The smile widened. ‘Something like that.’

‘My guess is that you’ve already carried out the autopsy on Myra Hooper.’

‘You guess right.’

‘That was quick.’

‘We try to be efficient. The fact that the murders happen on the same day each year helps. We don’t normally get advanced warning. I was able to schedule things accordingly.’

‘So what’s the lowdown?’ Anderton asked.

Datt laughed and turned to Winter. ‘ What’s the lowdown? Don’t you just love it when she talks like a cop?’ The laugh stopped as quickly as it had started. His face turned serious. ‘The cause of death was massive internal trauma caused by the explosion. The same as the three previous victims. This time one of the venae cavae was ruptured. Free histamine levels indicate that she was fully conscious when the explosion happened. Again, it was the same story with the other three victims.’

‘Was there anything different this time?’

Datt shook his head.

‘So, no signs that Myra struggled or fought back.’

Another shake of the head. ‘There were no defensive wounds. Which is consistent with the other three victims.’

Anderton turned to Winter. ‘It also supports your theory that the killer was using Cody to coerce Myra.’

‘“Do what I say or the boy dies,”’ Winter said.

‘Exactly.’

Anderton turned back to Datt. ‘Is there anything else you can tell us?’

‘Unfortunately, no.’

‘Have you spoken to Freeman yet?’ Anderton asked.

‘Not yet. I was just on my way to meet him.’ Datt stood up. ‘Look, I should get going.’

‘Thanks, Jack. I really appreciate you doing this.’

‘Any time.’

Datt did a quick round of handshakes then walked away. He glanced back at the door, eyes searching for Anderton, then he was gone. Winter waited until the door closed before speaking.

‘There’s nothing Datt told us that couldn’t have been said just as efficiently over the phone.’

‘Your point?’

‘I’m just saying, that’s all.’

‘No, you weren’t just saying. You were inferring. There’s a difference.’

‘I think he likes you.’

‘I know he likes me. The problem is that he’s married.’

‘Happily?’

‘Happily enough. I’ve met his wife a couple of times. She’s really nice.’

‘Damn.’

‘Damn indeed.’

Winter took another bite of his burger, drank some coffee, ate some fries. Anderton checked her cell to see if the photo composite had come through. It hadn’t. She tried Freeman’s phone but couldn’t get an answer. Either he was busy or he was ducking her calls. The latter was more likely. Freeman would want to exercise his right to be the alpha in the relationship. She tapped her cell on the tabletop. Once, twice, three times. Plastic connected with plastic to make a sound that was as annoying as a dripping faucet.

‘I’d really like to see that photograph,’ she said. ‘Would you say that I’ve given Freeman ample opportunity to send it through?’

‘Probably not. However, I’m sensing that you’re not after the truthful answer here, so I’m going to say yes.’

Anderton started swiping and jabbing at the screen of her cell phone.

‘Who are you calling?’

‘Geneva Tarantini.’

‘Will she give the picture to you?’

‘Of course she will. She got promoted last year. Guess who recommended her?’

Winter laughed. ‘This was your plan all along. That’s why you suggested her.’

‘No, I suggested her because she’s the best person for the job. The fact that she’ll give us a copy of the picture is purely coincidental.’ Anderton jabbed at her phone one last time then brought it up to her ear.

Anderton’s cell beeped twice as they were driving through Renfrew. She checked to see who it was, one eye on the screen, one eye on the road. Her sudden smile indicated good news.

‘Geneva Tarantini?’ Winter asked.

‘She’s sent through an attachment containing the composite.’ She tossed the phone over. ‘Open it.’

It only took ten seconds to download the attachment. Tarantini had done a good job. There were glimpses of all three husbands, but look again and it was like seeing a completely different person. Did the killer look anything like this? Not that it mattered if he didn’t. Photo composites were a vague approximation of a vague witness’s vaguest memory. Most of them looked nothing like the person they were supposed to look like. Then there was the fact that the purpose of this one had nothing to do with identification and everything to do with unsettling the killer.

Anderton turned into King Street and pulled up at the kerb. She killed the engine and held out her hand. Winter handed her the phone and she spent almost a full minute studying the composite. He could sense her excitement. It would be so easy for her to convince herself that she was looking at an actual picture of the killer. She had been chasing this guy for the past three years and at last she’d caught his scent. There was still a long way to go, but there was a sense that things were finally moving in the right direction. Winter could feel it. He was sure that Anderton could, too.

Scott Hooper’s apartment block was ten yards further on along the sidewalk. It had been constructed in the fifties or sixties from concrete, steel and glass. The neighbourhood was a determinedly middle-income one. The vehicles parked on the street were relatively new and the buildings were all in a good state of repair. They walked over to the entrance foyer side by side and took the stairs to the second floor. Hooper’s apartment was the first one they came to. Anderton knocked and stepped back. Winter heard a door opening somewhere inside. He could hear footsteps coming closer. The door swung open.

It took one second for recognition to kick in, and another second for Hooper to react. His hand curled into a fist and he took a step forward. Before Winter could work out what was going on, Hooper punched him in the face. The pain was immediate and all consuming. His left cheekbone felt as though it had been shattered and his sinuses were on fire. He couldn’t see for shit because his eyes were watering so much.

Hooper brought his hand back to punch again, and Winter brought his arm up to block the blow, already knowing it was too late. Some people were built for combat. He wasn’t one of them. His brain worked fast enough to process what was happening, but his reactions let him down every time. He shut his eyes and braced himself, waiting for a whole world of pain to come crashing down. This was the punch that would have him down on the canvas, the one that would put him out for the count.

It didn’t happen.

Winter was suddenly aware of a whole flurry of movement going on around him. He opened his eyes. Anderton had a hold of Hooper. His arms were behind his back and his face was pressed hard up against a wall.

‘Get off of me!’ he yelled.

‘Mr Hooper, I need you to calm down.’

Anderton was talking calmly, like this sort of thing happened all the time. Winter was betting it had been a while since she’d pulled a move like this. Even so, she still had it. Some things you never forgot. A noise from the hallway caught his attention. A scared face was buried in the shadows on the other side of the doorway, eyes shining in the gloom.

‘It’s okay, Cody,’ Winter called out. ‘There’s just been a small misunderstanding here. Everything’s fine.’

‘Stay away from my son,’ Hooper hissed. ‘Do you hear me? Keep away. You’ve done enough damage.’

Anderton pulled on his arm and he let out a yelp.

‘Hey, you’re hurting me.’

‘Mr Hooper, you need to calm down. If you can do that, I’ll let go.’