Bloodstream (28 page)

‘Right everyone,’ he said, his voice loud enough to make a young DC who was sitting nearest to the door jump in her chair. ‘Meeting room now.’

Murphy waited for everyone to scramble from their desks, picking up various notepads and files along the way. He stood to the side as they hurried past, whispered conversations coming to a halt. DC Harris waited at the end of his desk for everyone to go past before wheeling himself along behind them.

‘I’ve missed these gatherings,’ DC Harris said, as he went past Murphy.

‘We can have them hourly if you’d like, Graham?’

DC Harris snorted and carried on into the room. Murphy shared a look with Rossi at the door, then followed her inside.

It was always a little jolt when he realised the number of people now working under his command in Major Crime. Once, there had been himself and Rossi, along with a couple of DCs on a rotating basis, investigating things as they came in. Now, staff numbers were in double figures, with more working in different places in uniform waiting to be called upon. All waiting for him to speak, to lead.

It was equal parts fun and daunting.

‘Okay,’ Murphy said, quietening down the room in an instant. ‘Things are moving along but we need to find this guy soon. What’s the current situation on the videos, Harris?’

DC Harris produced a piece of paper from somewhere in his chair. ‘Sky and BBC have agreed to only show stills from the videos, but they’re refusing to stop talking about them constantly. Nothing we can do there. ITV will be doing their own thing later, our press team are in contact with them over that. The websites are all showing the video in its entirety, linking to the sites we can’t control. YouTube have taken down a few videos now. That may become a losing battle.’

‘They’re out there now, I suppose. Nothing we can do. And no way of tracking them either, I’m guessing?’

‘Not entirely,’ DC Harris replied. ‘We’ve spoken to Twitter, which is where the video was originally posted. They’ve suspended the account and sent us the details of where it was created and accessed from.’

‘That’s good,’ Murphy said, breaking into a smile. ‘We’ve got him then. All that technological stuff means we can track him to house, right?’

‘Not really,’ DS Rossi said, looking towards DC Harris who shook his head. ‘Tell him where the trace came back to.’

Murphy turned back towards DC Harris, his smile gone as quickly as it had appeared.

‘Some café in Bootle that has free Wi-Fi. We can’t even trace the phone as it was a pre-pay one.’

‘CCTV?’

‘The account was created months ago and the café only has one camera. They delete the footage after a couple of weeks. Nothing doing there.’

‘Is there any good news?’

DC Kirkham cleared his throat. ‘I think I might have something,’ he said.

‘Go on,’ Murphy replied, hoping he was right.

‘Well, the email address the killer provided was with a major provider. We’ve asked for records and such like. Taking a bit longer, but we should be able to find out where he was when he accessed the email account.’

‘Isn’t that going to lead us to the same thing as the Twitter account though?’

DC Kirkham didn’t shake his head, but he did look down. ‘He’ll . . . he’ll have to look at them again, though. Today. You know . . .’

‘To choose his next couple,’ a voice said from behind the DC. ‘How can he follow through on his promise unless he checks?’

There was silence in the room, before someone near the back muttered under his breath. Within seconds the noise level had increased.

‘All right, everyone, that’s enough,’ Murphy said, his hands raised in the air. ‘Kirkham, you get in contact with those email people again. Throw everything we have at them and get the information as soon as you bloody can, okay?’

Murphy looked towards Rossi who stepped forwards. ‘Post-mortem on the third couple – Greg and Hannah – will be happening in about an hour. Hale, you’re with me on that one.’

DC Hale turned a shade of grey for a second, before slowly nodding.

‘We’re waiting on the drug reports for Chloe and Joe to come in any second. Everyone is working to get this sorted out as soon as possible, so that should help for any requests you have of other departments. With the first couple, some type of anaesthetic drug was used, so we need to look into possible places the killer could have got that from.’

Murphy kept the wince on the inside. That wasn’t proving to be a simple task. ‘I want people chasing up reports of thefts at hospitals, doctors’ surgeries, pharmacies, everywhere you can think of on that one.’ He pointed at a couple of people and assigned the task to them. ‘Good, now we’re getting somewhere.’

‘Who’s been going through CCTV?’ Rossi said, scanning the room.

‘That’ll be me.’ A DC near the back raised her hand. ‘Got nothing suspicious at the moment. Two cars, but both came back as taxis . . .’

‘Check them out,’ Rossi said, Murphy giving her a quick look as they both remembered a case from a few years earlier.

The meeting didn’t last much longer, but Murphy could already tell that it had had an effect. He was always good at galvanising other people. Rossi smiled at him as everyone filed back to their desks.

‘Better?’ Murphy said, once everyone had left.

‘Much. Looks like we’ve got more than we thought. He’ll have screwed up at some point. We’ll have him soon enough.’

‘Let’s hope so. I really don’t want a fourth couple. I can’t be dealing with any more of these secrets.’

Rossi began to speak, then stopped herself.

‘What, go on, say what you were going to say,’ Murphy said, folding his arms across himself.

‘It’s nothing,’ Rossi said, gathering up the files she’d brought into the room with her.

‘No, it is. I’m listening now, okay?’

‘It’s just, I think there’s more to it than just exposing secrets.’

Murphy scratched at his elbow and began to stand up straight from where he had been leaning against a desk. ‘Does it matter, really?’

‘It could do,’ Rossi replied, standing in front of him, files in the crook of her arm. ‘I’m just saying it could be something more than just a random guy playing games.’

Murphy sighed, uncrossed his arms and gave Rossi a withering look. ‘I’m sure he has all kinds of reasons for doing what he’s doing, but for now, I just want to catch him and get him off my streets. Sound fair?’

Rossi didn’t answer. She nodded and began walking out of the door. As she was about to open it and leave she turned back round. ‘I just don’t want to miss anything important, you know? Something that might help us catch him sooner.’

‘I know, Laura,’ Murphy replied, walking towards her. ‘But sometimes we’ve just got to concentrate on what’s in front of us. Send a report of what we have so far to the profiling team – for all the good that will be – but let’s get on with what we have and then see where we are, okay?’

Murphy followed Rossi out of the room before returning to his desk and going through the information he’d just been told minutes earlier. A raft of messages, all concerning different aspects of the case, were waiting for him to read and discard.

The phone on his desk began to ring. Murphy picked it up as he continued to read.

‘Murphy,’ he said, still scanning the papers in front of him.

Ten seconds later the person on the other end of the line had his full attention. A minute later Murphy slammed down the phone and began clicking on his computer.

‘Stupid piece of shite,’ he said, louder than he’d wanted.

‘What’s going on?’ Rossi said from opposite him.

‘Come over here. Graham, you as well.’

DC Harris and Rossi made their way over as Murphy began to talk, struggling to keep up with Murphy as he spoke.

‘Say that again,’ Rossi said. ‘He’s sent us what?’

‘He’s sent us his password. We have access to the emails. People are sending him all kinds of stuff.’

DC Harris came round to Murphy’s desk and placed himself next to him. ‘Want me to do it?’

Murphy nodded and passed him the details he’d scribbled down on a piece of paper. ‘The press team got the email from him. They’ve already checked the password works properly.’

‘Here we go,’ DC Harris said, swinging the monitor round for Murphy and Rossi to see. ‘Over a thousand emails in there already.’

‘
Mio dio . . .’

‘They can’t all be sending him people to kill, surely?’ Murphy said, peering at the screen and waiting for DC Harris to start opening the messages.

‘You can already tell from the subject lines that they’re not.’

There was a sound from behind the three of them, making them all jump back a little.

‘I think I have something,’ DC Kirkham said, a grin on his face. ‘He accessed the email address an hour ago. With a bit of digging, I’ve got an address.’

Murphy matched his grin. ‘Let’s go get the bastard.’

The house didn’t feel right from the start. Murphy ignored that feeling, imagining a quick end to what felt like an unending investigation. Never mind that it had only been a few days; the fact that they had six bodies cooling in the morgue was enough. That was before he considered the media’s twenty-four-hour coverage.

‘Press is here already,’ Murphy said to Rossi, pointing towards the end of the street which had been blocked off. ‘Who the hell is telling them?’

‘If this is the right place, they’ll have a new story by tomorrow morning. Other people to piss off.’

Uniforms were stationed at both ends of the street, blocking access to enterprising news people who wanted to be as close to the action as possible. Every officer had been briefed about the case and told what to say, and what not to say, if asked questions.

Murphy just hoped that whoever was in the house wasn’t watching the news and preparing to hop over the garden wall.

‘Do we just knock?’

‘Let firearms go in first,’ Murphy said into the radio. ‘We’ll follow when everything is cleared.’

He and Rossi were sitting up front in the marked van, a few doors down from the house they had all converged on.

‘Amazing how many people we can rustle up when there’s something major going down. We ask for more money for stuff and get knocked back though.’

Rossi forced out a laugh beside him. ‘Does this house strike you as the right place?’

Murphy shrugged. ‘Takes all kinds,’ he said, turning up the radio as the firearms officers approached the house. ‘They can’t all live up in Formby in big houses like our last one. Sometimes our serial killers live in two-bedroom terraces in Walton.’

‘Suppose so.’

The light had faded fast outside, the dark clouds above them painting the scene in a dingy glow. ‘At least it’s not raining.’

Rossi didn’t say anything, leaning forward against the dashboard to see more clearly what was happening ahead.

The house was on a street that branched off Long Lane, which ran alongside Everton Cemetery and playing fields. From halfway up the road, where they were parked, you couldn’t see the green patch of land at the bottom of the road, just the houses which ran along each side. Two-bedroom terraces most of them, small houses for older couples and new families.

‘Back is secure.’

Murphy turned the radio down a touch, the chatter a little loud for a small van. ‘You’re a red, right, Laura?’

‘Yeah,’ Rossi replied. ‘But I don’t really follow it.’

‘House seems quiet.’

Murphy lifted up the radio and held it in mid-air. Kirkham and Hale, seated behind them in the back of the van, leaned forwards to listen. ‘I got into it a bit more last season, but it’s hard to watch every week.’

‘It’s weird not seeing Gerrard in a Liverpool shirt.’

‘Yeah, he’s been there so long he’s part of the furniture. It was weirder when Carra left though.’

‘Put the door in!

‘You’re a blue, aren’t you, Hale?’

‘Yeah,’ Hale said from the back of the van. ‘Staunch Evertonian me.’

‘Well, as long as you’re not a bitter one, I don’t mind.’

‘On three . . .’

‘What about you, Kirkham? Red or blue?’

‘Neither. I support Tranmere Rovers.’

‘One of the remaining few,’ Murphy said, laughing as he turned back to look at him. ‘Only joking. I’m sure there’s more than a few left, even after being relegated. At least a thousand. You should tell your fellow wools that they need to get behind their team, rather than picking up ours over here.’

‘Yeah, yeah.’

‘Looks like movement,’ Murphy said, moving forward. ‘Wait a second.’

They went quiet in the van, listening to the radio as the chatter went silent, before voices broke in.

‘Hallway clear . . . stairs clear . . . get down on the floor now. Get down on the fucking floor.’

Murphy opened the van door. ‘Looks like someone’s home,’ he said, getting out.

The elderly woman was still shaking half an hour later, every now and then almost convulsing. If there wasn’t a recent picture of her on the mantelpiece – a child under each arm – Murphy would have thought they had just turned her hair white. The hunched-over look was probably new, he thought.

‘I’ll be okay,’ Joyce Langdon said, bony hands cupped round a hot cup of tea someone had made for her. ‘Just a shock to have you storm in like that. You could have knocked, you know. I would have answered.’

‘We’re sorry, Mrs Langdon,’ Murphy said, surveying the room. ‘We can’t be too careful. You understand? We’ll have someone fix the door for you.’

Murphy looked towards Rossi who came over and sat next to Joyce. ‘You’re going to have to come down to the station with us, but I’m sure we’ll have you back here in no time.’

‘Fine, fine,’ Joyce said, lifting the cup up to her mouth. ‘I don’t have to wear handcuffs or anything, do I? Only the neighbours will think I’ve done something wrong.’

Murphy thought that was already going to be the case. ‘I think we can skip those for now.’

They had known that they didn’t have their man pretty much as soon as they’d walked in. The firearms officers had done their work leaving Joyce Langdon face down on her mottled red carpet, arms up her back and pinned to the floor. A quick search of the property had yielded enough evidence to suggest they weren’t in the right place.