Chapter Five #2
Taylor holds up the paper. “Denver tells us he’s twelve when he kills his first victim, Jono,” Taylor says, “the boy in the quarry. And Denver’s in sixth-form college when he kills Sarah, the convent girl.
From Denver’s narrative, we know that was the same year that Princess Diana died, 1997.
So, Denver was between sixteen and eighteen years old in ’97.
This means that Jono was killed in the early nineties. I’ve gone with 1993. Making Denver—”
“Not much older than me,” Sam says, a little stunned.
“I remember Dad and Harry worked the cordon at Diana’s funeral—I was right at the front with them.
I was about Charlotte’s age at the time.
It was like nothing you can imagine: mountains of flowers, everybody in tears. So … Yes. Denver is about my age.”
“Well, for the record, ma’am, you don’t look—”
“Please don’t, Taylor. I can’t handle compliments from twenty-year-olds at the minute,” she says a little harshly, making him blush crimson.
“I’m twenty-nine and I’m—” Taylor begins, but Sam has already moved on.
“We know that Denver killed at least one other person before his twentieth birthday,” she says, “because the first thing he tells us is the definition of a serial killer, and that he became one before he turned twenty. It’s as if he’s slapped a huge clue in our faces on page one. The arrogance.”
“He doesn’t tell us who his third victim is,” Taylor confirms. “I’ve almost finished the book and the victim after Sarah is killed in about 2006. I haven’t added them to the timeline yet, but I will.”
Taylor places the sheet on the floor so Sam can add a further point at the bottom.
How to Get Away with Murder—Timeline
Denver is born—approx. 1981.
Denver kills Jono (Quarry. DB age 12)—1993.
Denver kills Sarah (Convent. Physical evidence: letters)—1997.
Denver becomes a serial killer by age 20 (Missing victim?)—2001.
“This is good, Taylor,” she says. “Keep building this timeline. I’ve checked our searches for real victims, so let’s hope for a stroke of luck there soon.
While I work on the money trail from the website, I want you to really push to find out where Denver’s book was printed.
Telephone every printer in the country if you have to. ”
“Yes, ma’am,” he says, writing down her instructions in a way that pleases her far more than his compliment about her youthful appearance.
Sam turns over her copy of the book and examines the ISBN. Surely, they’ll be able to trace the printer.
“Taylor?” she says after a moment and he nods, leaning forward, pen poised. “A personal question, but … have you ever owned a dog?”
“A dog? Er, yes, ma’am,” he says, a tad flummoxed.
“My family keeps gun dogs. Spaniels for the most part. Some Labs, a few old beagles.” Sam pictures a country lodge and men in tweed jackets with rifles pointed at pheasants.
“Jess, she’s called. My Border collie,” Taylor says, and Sam returns her focus to him.
“Tell me, Taylor,” Sam asks, “what does a person do with a dog while they’re at work?”
“I think most people use dog walkers, ma’am,” he says, with a slight blush. “Or family. Friends. Neighbors, perhaps. Our dogs … we have a gamekeeper, Barney. He takes care of them.”
Sam remembers that Harry mentioned Taylor’s father is a wealthy man. A London MP with gun dogs and a gamekeeper called Barney. They must have more money than some small countries. Why on earth would such a privileged young man join the Metropolitan Police?
“What will you be working on, ma’am?” Taylor asks, as if keen to change the subject back to work.
“The money trail, like I said.” Sam gathers up her things and stands.
“I’m also going to send the ebook of How to Get Away with Murder to a linguist I know—Claire—she’s a bit of a genius.
If she agrees to help, and Harry approves a budget for it, she’ll be able to pick up any regional dialect and phrases that Denver uses. ”
“That sounds great,” Taylor says, then quickly adds, “ma’am. I’ll put the kettle on.”
“Make mine a coffee this time, please,” she says, holding the door for him. “After all that, I’ll need to get back to reading How to Get Away with Murder—and my concentration needs all the help it can get right now.”
Sam’s rereading the chapter about Sarah.
Denver has just described strangling the girl beneath an oak tree and she is comparing his description to the written crime scene summary of Charlotte’s murder, because she still cannot face looking at the photographs.
The similarities leave Sam’s mouth salty and she opens a new box of headache tablets before swallowing two dry.
The cup of coffee Taylor left on her desk an hour ago is overly milky and she’s let it curdle in front of her.
She can feel the pills inching roughly down her throat.
Her palm is throbbing too, and when she looks down, she notices she has Charlotte’s netball keyring in a vise grip.
She shakes out her hand and picks up her pen.
Low-income family: no computer, free school meals.
College is near a stream, a reservoir and a field with a single oak.
Denver and Sarah exchanged letters—physical evidence (1997).
She opens the email from DC Chen and scans down to the important part—the details from WorldSecurePay.
The money from Denver’s website, his takings from sales of the book, is being sent to a student bank account in Glasgow.
Anticipation mounting, Sam calls the bank.
She’s on hold for an age, speaking to multiple people, verifying her credentials each time.
“Take your time,” she says sarcastically. “It’s not like there’s a killer on the loose.”
After all that, they refuse to budge on the need for a court order before they will disclose more details. By the time Sam’s hung up, her head is splitting. She holds the cool back of her hand against her forehead.
She fires off an email to the civilian team to get the court order moving ASAP, then heaves a huge sigh. Every step she takes, there’s more paperwork for her to complete and How to Get Away with Murder lies closed on her desk.
A loud thud sounds from Taylor’s desk as he slams down the receiver, then immediately picks it up to dial again.
Without anything else to go on, he has resorted to calling every printer he can find online and Sam sees a spreadsheet grow larger on his screen as the young officer simultaneously speaks to another receptionist and adds to his list.
Sam decides she’ll make a strong coffee, then sit down and read Denver’s next chapter with the help of the tablets she can still feel scraping their way toward her stomach.
“Detective Inspector Hansen?”
She looks up, wincing as the sudden movement doubles the throbbing in her head.
“Good afternoon,” Tina Edris says, extending a hand. Sam notices her discreet French manicure—Past Sam’s go-to choice. “I’m Detective Inspector Tina Edris. Senior Investigating Officer on the Charlotte Mathers homicide investigation.”
“Please just call me Sam,” she says, holding out her clammy hand, which Tina grips firmly and shakes once.
She curls her hands in her lap, not wanting her own ragged nails on display.
Sam breathes Tina in: a jasmine citrus scent, white satin blouse, deep brown eyes that are almost black.
No makeup or jewelry, save a beautiful Swiss Swatch and a simple pearl stud in each ear.
Tina’s black hair is slicked back into a high updo, and she puts Sam in mind of Nefertiti.
“Nice to meet you,” Tina says. “Do you have a moment? I’m hoping to discuss your role in my investigation and how we can best work together.
” Tina speaks slowly, seeming to choose each word deliberately before saying it quietly, without any accent.
Sam supposes this is a technique to ensure she’s listened to and not talked over.
“Yes. Sure. Let’s talk,” Sam says and Tina nods her head to the small meeting room. Sam is rather wobbily as she stands and is relieved that Tina has already started walking away. She pops a mint in her mouth and follows. Inside the small meeting room, they sit facing each other.
“Firstly, I should say welcome back to work,” Tina begins. “How are you finding it so far?”
“Fine. Thanks,” she assures, almost truthfully.
“Excellent. So, as SIO, you’ll be reporting to me and I’d like to set expectations here and now.
Good rules make good friendships, as the wise man said.
” Tina smiles, but it doesn’t reach her eyes.
Sam waits. “To business, then,” Tina continues.
“As you know, you will be responsible for the book element of the Charlotte Mathers investigation. I would like to ensure that we’re on the same page with How to Get Away with Murder.
Excuse the pun.” Sam tries to smile but her head spins, forcing her to look at the floor and focus on her breath.
“… Detective Hansen?” Tina’s brow wrinkles. “I asked how you plan to approach your element of the investigation?”
“Well,” Sam says, swallowing hard. “I’ve started reading the book.”
“What do you make of it so far?” Tina raises an eyebrow. “I read it over the weekend.”
“Oh, great.” Sam pinches the top of her nose, praying that the tablets kick in quickly.
“I’d like you to focus exclusively on finding the author,” Tina says, pulling out her notebook and reading from a neat list. “I’d like you to identify where the book is selling—how are people buying it? Find out where the profits from the sales go, how the book is printed and—”
“I’m doing all that,” Sam says through her mint.
Tina continues to read from her notebook: “… and set up searches for all named victims. Especially Basil, who survived Denver’s attack.
” Tina takes a breath, flips a page and continues.
“You should know that I visited the lab today and the copy of the book that was found among Charlotte’s belongings had only her fingerprints on it.
We can’t determine whether those were made pre or postmortem but the lab found several on the outer cover and nothing on the inner pages, which indicates that Charlotte read little, if any, of Denver’s book.
She may still have owned the copy of it found at the scene, though, so it’s still important.
As I’m sure you know, reading and collecting books are separate hobbies.
Obviously, both the presence of Denver’s book and his initials on the tree trunk are details that have been withheld from the press. ”
“Have you spoken to the housekeeper yet?” Sam asks. “Charlotte’s teachers need looking at, the men especially as males commit over eighty percent of homicides. We need to focus on anyone who knew Charlotte might be walking home that night. Charlotte’s online activity—”
“I’m doing all of that,” Tina says, her mouth a tight line. “I’d like a weekly report from you and I’d like you to focus exclusively on finding the author of How to Get Away with Murder. Nothing else.”
“You need to pull all CCTV footage of Charlotte in the park,” Sam says. “There are restaurants in there, a hotel even, they’ll have security—”
“To achieve my objective and solve this case swiftly,” Tina says, raising her voice slightly, “I need every officer to concentrate on their own task. To follow instructions, even if they’re returning to work following extensive sick leave.
I cannot tell you how hard it has been for me to get to where I am today and I will not allow a team member’s misplaced idea that those instructions don’t apply to her to jeopardize my investigation. ”
“Absolutely, Tina,” Sam says through gritted teeth.
“Thank you.” Tina stands. “By the way, what are your thoughts on Basil?”
“Oh.” Sam’s cheeks flare with heat. “Erm … I…”
Tina scrutinizes Sam’s face. “Please tell me, Detective Hansen, that you have read all of How to Get Away with Murder?”
“Of course I have.” Sam tries to sound offended, but even to her own ears, her protest is hollow.
Tina simply shakes her head, lip curled in disgust, and lets the door slam closed behind her.
“How’d it go?” Taylor asks as Sam returns to her desk. She presses her hands to her burning cheeks.
“Coffee, Taylor,” she mutters. “Please. Strong.”
“That good, eh?”
Sam gives him a look that sends him directly to the kettle without further comment.
She checks her watch and decides that a third paracetamol won’t kill her but might take enough off this headache to let her concentrate for an hour.
She swallows it, then picks up the damned book and turns to the next chapter.