The Coercion Key (24 page)

“Jake, I want you to circulate a picture of the key to any jeweller in Northern Ireland. No, make that the whole of GB. I want the name of who made it and who paid them to do it.”

Craig re-entered the office. Liam was smiling as he sat down again.

“You yelled.”

“What?”

“Across the floor. You yelled across the floor. You never do that.”

Craig wrinkled his forehead, surprised. “Don’t I? I must do it more often then. Anyway, if we can’t find a manufacturer for the keys then that leaves us with one option, the killer made them themselves.”

“They’re pretty fancy. It would take talent.”

Craig smiled as something else dawned on him. “Artistic talent.” As he said the words he was out the door and over to Davy’s desk.

“Davy, run a search for people trained to design and make jewellery in our perp’s age range. Particularly for anyone trained to work with precious metals. Cross-match it with our known names.”

Davy opened his mouth to say “cool” but Craig had already re-entered his office and shut the door. He sat down again and stared at Liam.

“OK, let’s say our perp made the keys themselves; they’d have to be trained in design.”

Liam saw where he was heading.

“Remind you of anyone?”

“You mean…”

Craig nodded. “Julian Mooney. Victoria Linton’s invisible boyfriend. He was a designer.” He leaned forward eagerly. “What if James Mulhearn and Julian Mooney are the same man? They have the same initials.”

“But Mulhearn had a sex change and Mooney’s a man!”

Craig shook his head. “Is he? How do we know? How do we know that Victoria Linton wasn’t lesbian and having a relationship with a transgendered woman called Jenna, who she called Julian so that no-one knew she was gay? She was definitely the type to want to keep it quiet if she was. Imagine what Hang-em-High Henry would say about that. ‘My perfect daughter the lesbian’. She could never have told him.”

“But James Wallace heard a man’s voice in the background on the phone.” Liam lounged back, giving Craig a triumphant look. “And she wouldn’t have had a voice synthesizer with her then.”

Craig shrugged. “Women can imitate men’s voices. And a transgendered woman would have a much better memory of one to draw on and imitate. Without linguistics analysis to say any different it might have passed muster in the background on the phone.”

Liam’s jaw dropped. “God, Julian Mooney and Jenna Whatsherface are the same person? I thought my theory was a stretch but you’re really reaching now, boss. How the hell do we prove it?”

Craig slumped back and shook his head. “We don’t, not until we catch them. It’s just a working theory but it fits with the boy in the chat-room, the woman who attacked John and the arty partner of Victoria Linton that no-one ever saw.”

Liam stroked his chin thoughtfully and then stood up. “Hang on for a minute.”

It was his turn to yell across the floor but this time no-one was surprised. “Annette. Can you come in here a minute?”

“I’m getting ready to leave for the gym.”

Liam stared her out and Annette raised her eyes to heaven, knowing that resistance was futile. She stomped across the floor.

“Would you please not shout like that, Liam? What do you want anyway?”

Liam looked down at her wryly. “Don’t you mean, ‘what do you want, oh brilliant one?’ Even, ‘what do you want, sir?’ would do.”

“OK, oh brilliant one. What do you want?”

“Do you have that list of blocked callers that Natasha Nunes gave us?”

“Yes. Why?”

Liam barrelled on without answering. “Let me have a copy. And take Victoria Linton’s picture to the gym with you to see if anyone recognises her.”

“But it’s a lesbian gym.”

“Exactly.”

He watched her jaw drop, pleased at his delivery of the bombshell then re-entered Craig’s office before Annette had time to say any more.

Craig laughed. “That will start everyone talking.”

“Little amuses the innocent. My bet is that this Jenna was calling Vicky Linton’s office threatening her long before she decided the best way to reach Linton was through sex. But she wouldn’t have used the names Julian or Jenna.”

“So she probably called as James Mulhearn and his name will be on Linton’s blocked caller list.”

Craig drained his coffee and stood up.

Liam looked up curiously. “Is it your turn to yell again?”

“Nope.”

Liam squinted at him suspiciously. “Then where do you think you’re going?”

“The bathroom, if it’s any of your business.”

Liam’s squint deepened. “Well, leave your car keys with Nicky before you go. I don’t trust you after that jaunt to Wallace’s this morning. You’re under house arrest and I’m sticking to you like glue until Jenna whatever-her-name-is, is under lock and key.”

***

Jenna Graham glanced at her watch in irritation and scanned the garage exit from the C.C.U. They were all up there, safe in their tenth floor squad-room and she wasn’t trying anything inside a police fortress. No–one could get in there without I.D. She would have been very surprised to know that a woman had managed exactly that, eighteen months before, and that Liam Cullen had almost died as a result.

But Jenna had an added reason for believing she couldn’t achieve it; she got noticed everywhere she went. Not because she looked transgendered, her sex change had been so successful that no-one meeting her could have ever told that she’d once been a man. She got noticed because she was five-feet-ten and beautiful. It wasn’t a vain boast or a skewed self-opinion. She knew she was because everyone told her so and because men’s admiring gazes followed her wherever she went. Women’s gazes did as well, but they were much less friendly, unless they were gay.

She smiled, remembering how Victoria Linton had stared at her that evening in the gym, just as she’d planned. Linton was a petite brunette, not bad looking but not her type; she’d never found women sexually attractive. She fancied straight men, just as she’d done when she was trapped in a man’s body. The difference was that now she was free to pursue her dreams of marrying one she loved someday. Maybe they’d adopt children or maybe her husband would already have some of his own, but either way she’d never found women sexually attractive and she wasn’t about to start now.

Vicky Linton had just been part of her quest, a future victim with a place to hide away until she’d done what it took to finish off her list. She’d always known that Linton wouldn’t want the world to known about her lesbianism and that had suited her just fine. She could pretend Jenna was a man and call her Julian or whatever she wanted to, just as long as she provided her with cover while she killed the people on her list.

Jenna stepped back into the doorway of the boarded-up priest’s house beside the empty Dockland’s church. She wrapped her coat around her, ignoring the curious looks of a man leaving the Docker’s Club across the street, and prepared to wait for Marc Craig for as long as it took.

***

“Sir, this just came in from the sketch artist. I’ve scanned it and sent copies to everyone’s phones.”

Craig dragged his eyes away from the river and swung his chair round to face the door. Nicky was holding a sheet in her hand. He took it from her, peering hard at it as Nicky scrutinised his face. He looked tired, still handsome but handsome that could do with a long weekend in bed. She turned to leave and Craig halted her with a hand laid gently on her arm. The pleading look on his face almost made her laugh.

“I take it you’d like a coffee?”

“A gallon of it, please, I’m falling asleep. And can you send Liam in again?”

A moment later Liam came bounding through the door with an unfeasible amount of energy.

“Give me some of whatever you’re on, Liam. I’m dropping on my feet.”

“Aye well, that’s what you get for having best mates who go getting themselves shot.”

Craig paused for a second as if assessing if it was OK to laugh at John’s plight yet. After a second he decided it was and guffawed. John was out of danger so his shooting would be fair game for jokes and dramatic re-enactment for months to come. He’d join in himself, when Natalie wasn’t around.

Liam was just re-living John’s dramatic dive to avoid the bullet when Nicky re-entered, carrying a plate of biscuits and a coffee pot. She gave Liam a wry look.

“Please tell me that you weren’t just imitating Dr Winter being shot.” She shook her head. “No, that would be too tacky even for you.” She set down the coffee and turned to leave, pursing her lips. Liam waited until her back was turned and imitated her. Craig poured the coffee then handed Liam the sketch.

“Is that our woman?”

“According to John, yes.”

“Bit of a looker, isn’t she? I wonder what sort of woman I’d make.”

“An overweight one.”

“I’m just big-boned!”

Craig laughed off his indignation then his voice took on a serious tone. “She really does look feminine. She won’t stand out other than because she’s tall and beautiful.”

“What do you reckon her next move will be?”

Craig shook his head. “Hard to say. It depends if she’s finished her list or if there’s someone else on it that we don’t know about.”

Liam looked sceptical. “Like who? She’s killed everyone from the pension advisor to the flipping lawyer who got them off. There’s no-one left.”

“That we know about.” Craig paused for a moment then restarted. “OK, let’s say she’s finished. What would you do next?”

“Get the hell out of Dodge.”

“Agreed. So airports and ferries, north and south, have to be our best bet. Get this sketch to them please. ‘Wanted to help with police enquiries’. You know the drill.”

Craig paused again and Liam leapt into the gap.

“OK. So what if she hasn’t finished? You know who’s next.”

Craig nodded. “Me.”

“Yep. You didn’t back off when she asked.”

“And I’m not backing off now. Every vulnerable target is under armed guard: John, Mike, my folks. Their house in Holywood is like a fortress, so I’m not worried about them.”

Liam interrupted. “Will Lucia toe the line? She’s not too fond of having her freedom curtailed.”

Craig gave a slow smile. “She’ll be fine. She’s taken a shine to one of the protection officers.”

“What about Richard?”

Craig winced. Richard was Lucia’s long-term boyfriend, but Craig wasn’t certain how much longer he was going to hold the title. He was a concert pianist with the L.C.O., the prestigious London City Orchestra. The job entailed touring for eight months of the year and leaving Lucia alone. Lucia loved Richard but Craig could tell that she was getting worn down by his absences.

“I think his days are numbered. He’s away too much.”

Liam rubbed his chin, like a sage. “Aye well, if you leave a looker like Lucia alone for too long you deserve everything you get. OK, so that means it’ll be you our perp comes after next but she can’t get near you if I lock you down here.”

Craig shook his head vehemently. “I’m not spending days locked anywhere with you! No offence, but you wouldn’t be my choice of bunkmate.”

Liam leaned away from him, blustering. “Here, I wasn’t suggesting that. None of that talk now. I’m a married man.”

“You think there are no gay married men?”

Liam screwed up his face in confusion and Craig smiled at his sometimes naive view of the world.

“Anyway, that’s not what I meant by bunkmate. It could be days before we find her and I can’t stay locked in the office until then.”

“Can’t you stay at your folks?”

Craig thought of his teenage bedroom in Holywood. He hadn’t slept there for twenty-five years but his mother had maintained it like a shrine, just like Lucia’s with her ‘Take That’ posters all over the place. His posters had been of Bruce Springsteen but the principle was the same. He shook his head firmly.

“I’m staying at my own flat. There’s a sheer drop to the river on one side and only one entrance to the block. It’ll be easy to guard and I can look after myself.”

Liam folded his arms determinedly. “You can’t and you won’t, not even with Sinclair as your guard- dog. I’m staying with you. You have a spare room don’t you?”

Craig sighed, knowing that there was no way out. He resigned himself to his fate and they planned the next phase of the case.

***

2 p.m.

Annette had never been in a women’s only gym, come to think of it she hadn’t been in any gym except the police one and it had a pretty butch design. She was pleasantly surprised when they walked through the building’s automatic front door to find an airy reception area filled with plants and sculptures, with discrete, soulful music playing in the background. Jake had insisted on coming with her for security and as they walked towards the desk he flashed his badge at the girl behind it, whose tanned good looks could have graced any fashion magazine.

She smiled at both of them in turn. “Can I help you, officers?”

Jake looked at Annette, expecting her to take the lead. She was engrossed in a small waterfall in one corner so he continued.

“Hopefully, yes.” He showed the girl John’s sketch. “Do you know this woman, or could you point us to someone who does?”

The girl’s wide lips curved into a smile. “That’s Jenna Graham.” The smile dropped quickly and was replaced by a suspicious look. “What do you want her for?”

Graham. They’d learned something already. Annette heard the girl’s question and stared straight at her, speaking in an official tone. “That’s not a question we’re prepared to answer. Please tell us anything you know about Ms Graham.”

The girl blushed deep red and reached for the reception phone. “I’ll get the duty manager. It’s not my place to talk about clients.”

A moment later a petite woman in her forties approached them, extending her hand. They shook it in turn then she directed them down a short corridor and into an office. The woman sat down behind the desk and turned to Annette.

“How can help you, officer…?”

“Inspector McElroy and this is Sergeant McLean. Ms…?”

“Louise McDonagh.”

The woman’s voice was a soft monotone, with an almost hypnotic quality.

“Well, Ms McDonagh, as we told the young lady in reception we’re looking for this woman.” Annette laid the sketch on the desk. “We know her name is Jenna, Jenna Graham your receptionist said. And we think that she can help us with our enquiries.”