Murder Path (Fallen Angels Book 3) (17 page)

Chapter 21

The squeaking wheels of a mobile white board sent grating echoes down the empty corridor of the police headquarters.  Strange flinched under the noise as he pushed it towards the Incident room, conscious of the din in the late evening solitude of this part of the station.  He wheeled the board into the Incident room and down the narrow alley between rows of chairs and positioned it next to the other wall mounted white boards covered in evidence.

‘Very soon, we are going to need a bigger room.’  Cruickshank commented ruefully as she sat in one of the front row seats, back straight and legs crossed serenely, her skirt immaculately straightened out, looking through the evidence on the multiple boards in front of her.

Strange approached her thoughtfully and sat down in the next seat, leaning into her body so their shoulders touched.  ‘I think we should get the argument out of the way before we rearrange the evidence.  You’ve done extremely well holding the ‘I told you so’ in for so long.’

She nudged him with a playfully sardonic smile crossing her face.  ‘Oh you would just love that.  Your influence is having an impact on me.  I am trying to look beyond the obvious facts.  The obvious facts are that we now have an eye witness who has seen Rebecca Angus with one of our murder victims.  The obvious facts are that her DNA was once again found at the crime scene, along with Saul’s.  But there’s the question about her skin, isn’t there?’

‘There is.’  Strange reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out his small pile of photographs, flicking through them until he found the one he wanted.  He passed it over to Cruickshank.  ‘That was Rebecca about a month ago.  As you can see her body was ravaged.  Some of those burn marks, cuts and gouges are extremely deep.  While I think makeup would cover them, I don’t think it could completely hide them.  That’s why I think it can’t have been her.  Who it might have been, I have no idea.  But given John potentially has a twin and there were two cloned Eve’s, Rebecca may have a twin as well.  What I can’t understand is why she would want us to think she is Madame Evangeline.  It doesn’t make sense.’

‘That’s the problem at the moment Jerry, none of this is making a lot of sense.  Even the facts are shifting sands.  What we do know is that someone is now killing mass murderers, rather than exposing them.  It is definitely a different Modus Operandi and definitely a pattern now there are two.  Saul and Angus are either responsible or they are being setup.  If they are responsible, we need to find them and bring them in.  If they are being setup, we need to find them and bring them in.  It’s the only way we can help them and help ourselves get some clarity on some of these things.’

‘I agree.  They are either extremely dangerous or in extreme danger and possibly on their own with a young child in tow.  We need to cordon off Morpeth tomorrow and tighten the net around the town.  We know that Rebecca was at the Institute.  We have no sightings of the car leaving the town on any of the major roads, so they must still be there.’

‘Okay.  A joint force operation?  Will your Super be up for that, picking up our mess?’  Cruickshank asked solemnly.

‘It was our mess originally, we just didn’t realise it was the same thing that had spilled over.  It’s our collective mess now and taking place across both patches, so he has no choice really.  We’ll rally the troops in the morning.’

Cruickshank nodded, looking at the board in quiet reflection for a moment.  ‘Help me out for a moment while I try empathy on for size will you.’ she said after a moment.

Strange smiled and nudged her shoulder. ‘Sarcastic sod.  Go on then, I’ll help.  What’s on your mind?’

‘Just say Saul and Angus were totally oblivious of their genetic background and links to the Seymour family.  Just say they are totally innocent in all of this.  Just say they have been played at every turn by the Angels and now by them and the ‘Unknown man’.  That is a whole heap of pressure to contain.  They have already turned criminal trying to understand this for themselves.  At what point, to preserve their innocence, to save themselves, do they become murderers as well: or have they already.’ 

‘I think one of them has already and I don’t think it would take too much more to push the other one over the edge.  It certainly feels like someone is trying to lead them down that path.’

‘How do they cope with that? Someone playing god with their lives, quite literally from inception it seems and never having control, constantly being buffeted from one play to the next.’  Cruickshank mused, her eyes darting over the evidence wall reflectively.

‘If you are of a religious persuasion, then someone is always playing God with your life, right from inception.  Most of us cope, regardless of the slings and arrows thrown at us.  Granted, for John and Rebecca it is more nuclear bombs and nerve gas, but perhaps that’s what the selective breeding was trying to create, someone who could cope with those extremes and not break.  Someone who could stand up to God and say, come and have a go if you think you are hard enough.’

Cruickshank smirked, a little giggle escaping her lips.  ‘Just send God to Govan, they’ll sort him out.  Okay, what about this ‘Unknown man’ then and what about Unas?’ she finished, her reflective mood lifting, to be replaced with stoic determination.

‘Yes Ma’am!’ Strange answered sternly as he stood and approached the empty white board and started to reposition photographs and evidence.  ‘I think we can make an absolutely factual assumption that this ‘Unknown man’ is in some way connected with all of the killers that have been exposed and murdered.  While the Modus Operandi of the latest two is different in terms of them being killed, the pattern of them as killers is very similar to that of the four we have in custody.  They are all serial killers, they all kept body parts as trophies and we never found any of their victims.  Therefore, I think we link them all on this new board, with a solid line to the ‘Unknown man’ because we are sure he knows them.  A dotted line to John and Rebecca because they may be involved.  We also link them to Unas, our old living God and pharaoh and try and figure out what the link is there.  That’s something worth pitching to our four in custody and see what reaction they have.’

He stood back from the board, now filled with half a dozen pictures and lines heading off onto the other boards.

‘We can do that now, you are scheduled to interview O’Driscoll in about five minutes to try and get him to reveal the Unknown man’s name.  Drop Unas into the conversation as well.’  Cruickshank suggested as she stood and approached the board.  ‘The only thing I would have different, is that as a solid line.’ she added, taking the pen out of Strange’s hand and running it over the lines to Saul and Angus.

‘Okay, I’ll give you that.’  Strange replied.

‘See, no arguments at all.  We can all learn you know, even you.’  Cruickshank teased as she passed by him and headed for the exit to the Incident room.

‘Oh, I’m always learning.  Every breath should be a learning experience.  If it isn’t, what’s the point of life?’  Strange responded as he grabbed a folder off a nearby seat and then followed her out of the Incident room and down the corridor towards the Interview suite.

‘Have you got your interview strategy and questions ready for this?’  Cruickshank asked, passing a door and pointing a thumb towards it, indicating that was where Strange needed to go.

‘All ready, I’ve even got that titbit that Purves found for us.’

‘Good luck.  Just remember, O’Driscoll could well freak you out.  He sees demons everywhere and will delight in telling you about yours.’  Cruickshank offered as she turned a corner, heading off to the control room.

‘I’ll bear that in mind.  I might even use it, being a Voodoo child.’  Strange shouted after her.  He stopped outside the interview room door and took a deep breath, shaking out his hands to dispel the nerves as he did.  He quickly took something small from his pocket and popped it into his ear.  ‘All wired up Ma’am and ready to go.  Can I enter?’

‘Yes.’ came Cruickshank’s tinny voice through the earpiece.  ‘PC Barnes is in attendance in the corner.  O’Driscoll is chained to the interview table.  He has been violent.  Did I mention that?’

‘No you didn’t but I’m sure if he’s restrained, Barnes and I will cope swimmingly.’ Strange responded and then entered the room, closing the door behind him.  He walked laconically over the table, watching as O’Driscoll’s slightly manic eyes swivelled towards him and started to take in every part of his person.  He sat down in the seat opposite, placed the file on the table, and stretched out a hand to shake O’Driscoll’s.

‘Archbishop O’Driscoll.  I am Detective Chief Inspector Jeremiah Strange.  Thank you for your time this late in the evening, I appreciate your flexibility.  Hopefully we won’t keep you too long.’  Strange introduced politely.

O’Driscoll took the offered hand and shook it inquisitively, looking from it up to Strange’s welcoming face with a curious gaze. ‘None of them are in you, which is good.  Did you know they let them out?  They could be anywhere, wreaking havoc.  You are Jamaican.  Are you a servant of the spirits?’

‘I don’t practice, but I believe.  We all have our faith Archbishop and all of our faiths are aligned.  My spirit is Orgu Damballa, the primordial creator of all life.  He is also syncretised with your Saint Patrick.  Can you see if he is with me?’  Strange asked, looking directly into O’Driscoll’s manic eyes.

O’Driscoll looked from Strange, to the mirror on the far wall, his features alternating between excited and droll, his manner agitated.  ‘No, we can’t see any spirit in you tonight.’

‘That’s good to know.  Now, could you tell me who this person is?’  Strange asked, pulling a picture of O’Driscoll and the ‘Unknown man’ out of the folder and placing it in front of O’Driscoll.

The agitation suddenly left O’Driscoll and a calm emptiness took its place.  He sat back in his seat and looked Strange directly in the eye.  ‘No.’ he said, simply.

‘Well, it’s obvious you know him as he is in a picture with you.  I see you were both wearing Irish Republican Army badges as well.  Killers together.  Was it him who helped you rationalise murder and religion.  Was it him who radicalised you?’  Strange asked with no emotion in his tone.

‘I’m not radical.’  O’Driscoll stated firmly.

‘If buggering and asphyxiating women in the name of your religion isn’t radical, then I don’t know what is.  It’s certainly not something they teach kids at Sunday school, is it?’

‘Vade retro satana.  Go back Satan.  Exorcism has been a part of the Catholic faith since the beginning, there is nothing radical about it.’

‘Perhaps it’s just your interpretation that is radical then.  But then, it probably isn’t your interpretation.  I don’t think you’ve got the imagination to be that horrendously inventive.  I think it takes a mind like the man in the picture to dream up the kind of murder that you inflicted on those poor women.’  Strange said with a hint of brusque and challenge in his tone.

O’Driscoll clenched his fists, his index finger scratching the scars of his stigmata as a manic glare entered his eyes again. ‘It had nothing to do with him.  It was us.  We created this technique to capture demons.’

‘Really?  So how do you explain this then?’  Strange countered, pulling a picture from the folder and placing it in front of O’Driscoll.  It was a black and white picture in the front room of a derelict house.  In the middle of the room was an upturned milk crate.  Lying over the milk crate was a naked man, slumped dead with a plastic bag over his head and taped around his neck.  ‘That is Paddy O’Dwyer.  He was in the IRA as well.  He was also buggered and left dead like that, back in nineteen eighty eight, a full three years before your time in the IRA.  You are just a copycat O’Driscoll.  He showed you that technique.  He taught you how to use it.  He told you what to do with that knowledge.  He turned you into a murderer.’

‘No.’ O’Driscoll fumed, white specks of phlegm gathering at the edges of his mouth, his whole body shaking with fury, his eyes bulbous with rage.  ‘We invented that technique, tell him Lilith.’ he screamed, looking over to the mirror frantically, wanting assurances from his demon.  He started yanking the chains and stood up, pulling the table, his whole body now turned towards the mirror, his argument now with it.  ‘You can’t say that Lilith, it wasn’t like that.  He had nothing to do with it, it was you and me.  You told me how to put your spirit inside them, you told me how that would chase out the demon, you told me that the plastic bag would capture and contain them.  You told me all of that!  It had nothing to do with Gabriel.’