Unfinished Business (10 page)

Brodie had read every available piece of literature on the killer by esteemed experts and he’d formed his own theories.

Three women had been murdered in the nineteen sixties in Glasgow after a night out at the Barrowland Ballroom. All three had been raped, beaten and strangled. Despite the best efforts of the police the killer had never been caught.

The three women had all been menstruating at the time of their deaths, their sanitary towels left either near the body or neatly tucked under the armpit. Brodie thought the odds of this being a coincidence were high, therefore he was certain this was the key to the murders. It used to be thought, many years ago, that women menstruated as punishment for the sin of Eve after she ate the forbidden apple in the garden of Eden. The killer was nicknamed Bible John because he quoted scripture, as witnessed by the sister of one of the victims. If he was zealously religious in the old school fire and brimstone sort of way it was possible he shared this belief. What if he thought he was on some divine mission to punish women for the sin of Eve? What better place for such a predator to hunt than the Barrowlands, which was popular with married people wanting a bit of extra-marital fun. The clientele required anonymity and the drink always flowed, so any potential witnesses were either too drunk to notice anything or never came forward for fear of their partners finding out what they were up to.

But how could the killer have known the women were menstruating? Brodie had thought about this a lot. He’d had a male friend once who could always sense when a woman was on her period. He’d said he could smell it. Brodie had always thought he was just weird, even though he was often right. If he had this ability then so must other men. He was well aware it was a long shot, in fact a couple of Bible John experts he’d contacted had even ridiculed his ideas, but he thought his theory an interesting one.

Even though he’d read this information so many times already Brodie still read it again, just as interested as he was the first time. Sometimes his hobby made him feel guilty. This man’s disgusting crimes had devastated three families, taken mothers from their children but that only made him even more determined to get to the bottom of it.

There was a school of thought that the notorious serial killer Peter Tobin was Bible John but DNA taken from semen left behind on one of the victim’s clothes had been negative. Did that mean he was innocent? Did that semen belong to the killer or had the sample been contaminated? One thing that made him sceptical about the Peter Tobin theory was that witnesses had said Bible John had been well-spoken and very good looking. There was no way Tobin could be classed as either of those things.

Like all mysteries he supposed there would be a sense of anti-climax if the case was ever solved but he hoped the shitebag was caught one day, if he was still alive. Brodie’s sense of injustice raged at the prospect of a serial murderer getting off scot-free while the victims’ families were given a life sentence.

So the cycle went on. It was still happening. The Carver had already claimed four lives. Most frustratingly, Brodie was certain Seth Creegan was responsible. The question was, how did he prove it?

The next morning all seemed to have been forgiven because Cass was her usual chatty self at breakfast and the incident the previous night was never mentioned. She wasn’t one to hold a grudge.

Jason the creep was absent from the restaurant and his Porsche wasn’t in the car park. Brodie smiled inwardly at the thought of him driving through the night to get back to an oblivious wife wondering what he was playing at. It would serve him right if he returned home to find she’d got someone else in the marital bed.

“Back to Manchester Boss?” said Cass after they’d settled the bill and returned to the car.

“Soon. We’re taking a little detour first.” He’d asked the receptionist for directions to Hill Top, Beatrix Potter’s house. He’d been right, it was in Hawkshead.

“It’s lovely,” said Cass as they stopped at the gate, staring at the seventeenth century farmhouse, the garden bursting with flowers. When she looked at him Brodie was able to feel the force of her gaze, even though it was hidden behind sunglasses. “Is this your way of apologising for last night?”

“I already said sorry for that. I just thought you might like it.”

“Who would have thought Brodie MacBride was really a softie deep down.”

“Only for you hen,” he smiled.

On their return to Manchester, Cass was very eager to meet the Creegans. Their first port of call was Sarah.

“Where have you been?” she cried the second she opened the door to them. “Mark has been contacting me non-stop.” She frowned at Cass. “Who are you?”

“This is Cass Carlisle, she works for me. I brought her here to help,” explained Brodie.

“Come in,” she said, dismissing Cass and turning her attention back to Brodie.

“Did your friend stay the night?” he asked as they followed her through to the lounge.

“Yes, I got Carol next door to stay with me but she had to go back to work and now I’m all alone. You said you were here to look out for me.”

“I am Sarah.”

“You left me alone last night and someone tried to get into the house.”

“Do you know who?”

“At first I thought it was Mark. I had the locks changed as well as the code for the alarm. To be sure I rang his hotel room and he picked up. So if it wasn’t him who was prowling around my house?”

“Did you see anyone?”

“Just a shape in the dark. It was a man though, it was too big to be a woman.”

“Seth?”

“Probably. He’s psycho enough to do something like that. You need to sort him out.”

“How exactly?”

“I don’t know, just make him leave me alone. I’ll pay you, I’ve got plenty of money. Just get him off my back,” she screeched.

“Calm down,” he said, taking her gently by the shoulders. “We’ll speak to him if that’s what you want but you’ve no proof it was him.”

“Who else could it be?”

“I don’t know but I’ll find out and make them stop.”

Sarah dragged her fingers through her hair, her fringe flopping into her eyes. “God this is driving me crazy.”

“Have you spoken to Mark?”

“Not yet. He’s called but I can’t bring myself to talk to him, I still don’t know what I’m going to say. I’m torn between getting a divorce and just taking him back. I miss him,” she said, tears filling her eyes.

“I’ll find Seth and have a word. Cass will stay here with you.”

When Cass’s head snapped round he gave her a look urging her not to argue.

“I’d really feel better if you’d stay with me,” said Sarah. “No offence to you, Cass is it? But you’d be no match for Seth.”

“Yes she would,” said Brodie. “You’re safe with her. I’ll be as quick as I can.” He gave Sarah’s hand a gentle squeeze. “Trust me.”

She looked up at him with wide eyes. “I do, I really do.”

Cass rolled her eyes and stuck her fingers down her throat behind Sarah’s back, earning herself another warning look from Brodie.

“I’ll be back as soon as I can. Cass, stay alert,” he called over his shoulder on his way out, causing her eyes to narrow. He didn’t usually tell her how to do her job so she surmised he was trying to look tough and organised in front of the helpless blond.

The door closed behind him and the two women looked at each other.

“So,” began Sarah. “Would you like a drink?”

“Tea please.”

“How do you have it?” she said reluctantly.

“Milk, no sugar. Do you mind if I take a look around and check the house is secure?”

“No, do what you must,” said Sarah disinterestedly before heading into the kitchen.

Cass knew her type. She probably got on very well with men but not so much with women. She flirted her way through life, which was no doubt how she’d ended up marrying a wealthy, successful man. Cass thought little of women like her. Still, she felt sorry for the poor cow, she’d been put in a horrible position.

Cass wandered through the house making sure everything was secure, admiring the antiques, particularly the paintings.

“Bloody hell,” she said to herself as she peeked her head around the door of the room upstairs that was filled with antiques. She’d love to study them closer but she had work to do.

After ascertaining the house was locked and secure against intruders she returned to the kitchen where Sarah was pouring out the tea.

“That’s a fascinating room you’ve got upstairs.”

“What? Oh, you mean all the antiques. They’re Marks, he’s in the antiques business but he keeps bringing his work home.”

“Don’t you share his enthusiasm?”

“Not really. I prefer things shiny and new.”

Philistine,
thought Cass. “My dad owns an antiques shop. He had a strong influence on me. I’ve always been fascinated by history.”

“Really?” replied Sarah as though she couldn’t care less. “Here’s your brew.”

“Thanks,” said Cass, picking up the mug and cradling it. She couldn’t really begrudge Sarah’s attitude, she had a lot on her mind.

“Does everything look secure?” Sarah asked her.

“Fine,” replied Cass.

That was the limit of their conversation and they lapsed into silence.

Brodie, hurry up,
thought Cass as she sipped her tea.

CHAPTER 9

It was easy for Brodie to locate Seth thanks to the tracking device he’d planted on him. Before he tackled him he quickly looked back over his recorded movements and saw he’d spent twenty minutes at Sarah’s house the previous night. He was the lurker then. Hardly a surprise.

Seth was currently drinking in a seedy pub with bars on the windows and graffiti over the frontage. Brodie smiled on his way in as he read some of the graffiti, he didn’t think it possible to misspell the word
bum
but some Einstein had managed it.

The man himself was leaning against the bar knocking back a pint, glowering at anyone who got too close, not that it was necessary, his black aura was encouraging everyone to keep their distance. The glower turned to outrage when Brodie walked in and he slammed his pint down on the counter, slopping lager everywhere.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” he snarled, causing everyone to look Brodie’s way.

“Why do you think I’d come into a pub? To buy a fucking car?”

Astonishment filled the room, as though the clientele couldn’t believe someone had spoken to Seth Creegan like that.

Brodie casually ordered a pint from the stunned barman then leaned against the bar to talk to Seth.

“Stalking me are you, you fucking poof?” barked Seth.

“Oh yeah, that’s it,” he said dryly. “I’ve got a thing for evil little bastards who go around peering through women’s windows.”

“That’s a fucking lie,” he bellowed, slamming his palm down on the bar, making the barman jump.

“Do you always have to be so noisy?” said Brodie. “It’s really annoying.”

“If you don’t fuck off out of my face in five seconds I’ll put you through the window.”

Brodie took an aggressive step towards Seth, eyes gleaming. “Last time you tried that you ended up making a tit of yourself. If you want all your wee pals to see you get the shit kicked out of you then go ahead, try, but I promise you won’t be doing yourself any favours.” Brodie spoke low and quiet, so no one else could overhear. The threat of making an arse of himself in front of everyone was the only thing that might make Seth listen, so Brodie didn’t want to waste the opportunity just yet.

“Alright you Jock prick, spit it out then.”

“You were prowling round Sarah’s house last night.”

Seth’s lips drew back over his teeth. “First of all it’s not her house, it’s my brother’s. Second, why would I want to bother with that tight-arsed bitch?”

“You’re trying to scare her into forgiving Mark and taking him back so your precious ma will get to see her grandkids again.”

“I couldn’t give a shit about all that and if Sarah says I’ve been lurking in her bushes then she’s lying.” His smirk was infuriating. “Sounds to me like she’s been indulging in a bit of wishful thinking.”

“Yeah, because you’re so irresistible.”

“I might be to a stuck-up cow like that. My brother’s probably never serviced her right in their entire marriage.”

“Stop being a perv and listen. You bother Mrs Creegan again and my baseball bat’s going to have a serious word with your kneecaps.”

It gratified him when Seth’s eyes filled with surprise. “Are you threatening me?”

“Is the message no’ getting through? If not I can always give you some proof,” said Brodie, brandishing his pint, “using this glass and your arse.”

“Big threats.” Seth’s black eyes narrowed. “Think you can follow them up?”

“You know I can. Leave the lady alone or you’ll find yourself in huge amounts of pain.”

“You’re not a private dick, they don’t go around talking like that. Who the fuck are you?”

“I told you, my business is unfinished business and your whole family is unfinished business.”

“Been rehearsing that little speech have you?”

“You’re not the first scrote I’ve had to warn off. Why don’t you ask the others who pissed me off if you don’t believe me? I can give you the numbers of the care homes they’ll be permanently stuck in.”

Seth threw back his head and roared with laughter.

“What’s so fucking funny?”

Seth shook his head. “You know, if you weren’t working for that daft cow I might quite like you.” He gestured to Brodie’s pint glass. “Have another on me.”

Brodie was thrown by this sudden change in attitude. “Alright then.”

The barman seemed equally surprised by this sudden generosity and placed the drink down with definite suspicion in his eyes.

“Cheers,” said Brodie, taking a sip of lager as Seth handed over the money.

“Alright, you got me,” said Seth. “I was creeping round the bushes last night trying to put the wind up the daft bint.”

“Why?” said Brodie, reclining against the bar. Seth seemed much more relaxed, which meant he could be too, although his guard was still up. The Judas bastard John Lyons had taught him never to let his guard down, not even with people he was close to, except Cass.

The rest of the customers, seeing the two men talking so easily, returned to their conversations, leaving them to chat in peace.

“Because I can’t stand her,” replied Seth vehemently. “She comes from a rough background, just like the rest of us but she thinks she’s so fucking high and mighty with her big house and her flash jewellery. She did nothing to earn it, my brother did all the hard work. What the fuck has she got to be so up herself about?”

“I can understand that but playing the peeping Tom is only going to get you into trouble, you’re lucky she told me and not the police and with your track record you can’t afford to get into any more trouble.”

“You’ve been sticking your beak in everywhere, haven’t you?” glowered Seth, turning nasty again.

“I think you already know the answer to that one.”

Seth just nodded and settled down again. So the man did have a reasonable side.

“What do you know about her past?” said Brodie.

Seth’s eyes were suspicious. “I thought you’d already know all about her.”

“I do. I’m just curious to find out how much she told you.”

“Not the fucking truth I bet. She always made out her family was middle class with a nice house in the suburbs when in fact her dad was a bus driver and her mum worked part time in a pound shop.” His lips curled into his version of a smile. “I loved rubbing that in her face when I found out but Mark didn’t care that she’d lied to him, he was head over heels, the bloody mug,” he muttered, swigging his pint. “Her parents aren’t skint now, Sarah and Mark have given them loads, more than they ever gave us.”

“It was difficult for you to trust her after you found out she lied?”

“Course it was, I can’t believe a word she says now.”

“Plenty of people exaggerate their origins. Did Mark already have the big house and the cash when they met?”

“He didn’t have the house, he only bought that when they married, but he had the cash.”

“Maybe she made that up about her family to fit in with yours? If Mark was loaded she probably assumed you all were.”

“I’m disappointed Brodie, I didn’t have you down as being soft.”

“I might be right.”

“You’re not, she’s a snobby tart and Mark was suddenly too good for us when he met her.”

“That must have been difficult after everything you went through down south,” said Brodie, deciding to try and show him some empathy, it seemed to be fruitful.

Seth flashed a smile. “What do you want from me Brodie? Do you expect me to break down in tears and blub about how the bad memories haunt me? You’re going to be disappointed because they don’t. Dad’s dead and Mark killed him. He served his time and now he’s out living his life. End of story. Why does everyone want to keep raking up the past? It’s over with.”

Brodie knew this wasn’t just a front, Seth actually meant it. “The past is never over. Don’t you think your sister’s problems stem from that incident?”

He snorted. “Lauren’s always been a nervous fucking wreck.”

“She suffered a lot at your dad’s hands.”

“She’s weak,” he hissed, his dark aura rearing its head again. Brodie could feel it surrounding him, darkening his own mood. Brodie hadn’t been aware until that moment that evil was contagious.

“Maybe if you were a bit more understanding her condition might improve?”

“Don’t talk about my sister, she’s fuck all to do with you.”

Brodie decided to swing the conversation away from this very touchy subject before he clammed up. “What do you make of The Carver murders?”

Seth appeared genuinely confused. “What’s that got to do with anything?”

“Come on Seth, surely you read the papers?”

“Now and then,” he shrugged. “They’re a waste of time if you ask me. Full of crap about celebrities. I hate celebrities. I couldn’t care less whether they live or die.”

“They do report on other things sometimes,” said Brodie wryly. “The Carver’s been taking up all the headlines. Four women mutilated, their throats cut, just like the murders in Camden.”

Seth raised his glass to take a drink, frowning at Brodie over the rim. “You have been digging, haven’t you?”

“Bit of a coincidence isn’t it that a copycat starts up in Manchester where your family’s moved to. Do you know your dad was suspected of being The Camden Carver?”

“Yeah. So?” he replied, taking another glug of lager.

“What do you mean, so?”

“They never proved it.”

“The killings stopped when he died.”

“That’s not proof.”

“Doesn’t it bother you that your dad was a suspected serial killer?”

“Why should it? He’s dead.”

Brodie sighed inwardly. Seth genuinely didn’t seem to care. “Have you been interviewed by the police like Mark has?”

“We all have, Maggie and Lauren included,” he replied casually. “Seems you don’t know everything Jock.”

“And what happened?”

“Well they arrested me and locked me up for life,” he said sarcastically. “What do you think happened?”

“Are you still a person of interest?”

“To the police? No idea, but I am to most of the women in Manchester.”

Brodie raised a sceptical eyebrow.

“So, you know Mark definitely killed Daddy and I’m not a serial killer. Anything else you want to ask while I’m in a chatty mood?”

“I think that’ll do for now Seth, but this is far from over.”

With that Brodie put down his pint and stalked to the door.

“By the way Brodie, you can have this back,” called Seth.

He stopped and turned, heart sinking when Seth dumped the tiny tracking device on the bar top.

“See you around Jock,” he smiled, striding triumphantly from the bar.

“How was Seth? Did he shout at you? Did he attack you?” demanded Sarah the second Brodie walked through her door.

“Neither actually. He bought me a pint and we had a chat.”

“About what?”

“You.”

“Me? How dare you talk about me behind my back.”

“I thought you wanted me to warn him off? How am I supposed to do that if I don’t mention you?” He threw Cass an exasperated look, who was standing behind Sarah. She rolled her eyes and shook her head.

“Oh,” said Sarah sheepishly. “And is he going to leave me alone?”

“He’s not anxious to get into trouble with the police again.”

“I see. Well, let’s hope he sticks to his word. In my experience he normally doesn’t. Do you think he could be The Carver?”

“Who knows?”

“Boss, can I have a word?” said Cass.

“I hope you’re not going to talk about something that affects me without me being in the room?” said Sarah, scowling at them both.

“This doesn’t affect you, it’s about another case, which is why I need to talk to Brodie in private,” said Cass flatly.

“Go ahead then,” she replied through tight lips.

Brodie followed Cass through to the kitchen, who closed the door behind them both with a relieved sigh.

“You can’t stand her, can you?” he said quietly so Sarah wouldn’t overhear.

“Oh no, I just love being patronised and looked down on.”

“That seems to be the general consensus of Sarah Creegan. Only Mark thinks different.” He took the tracking device out of his pocket. “Seth gave me this.”

“Well done. You must have put it in a really obvious place or he felt you plant it.”

“No way, I’m an expert at planting these.”

“Obviously not.”

Brodie was angry with himself as well as Seth. He hated looking like an idiot in front of Cass. “So we have to look at his motivations for lurking in Sarah’s bushes when he knew we could track him doing it.”

“Maybe he wanted an opportunity to talk to you alone? He must have known you’d confront him about it.”

“He was definitely hostile when I turned up at his local boozer.”

“Perhaps he hadn’t banked on you tackling him there, he’d probably hoped for somewhere more private. What did he say exactly?”