Desecration (13 page)

“Do you know GF Watts?” he asked. Jamie shook her head and Mascuria walked towards the kitchen. “To empathize with the monster in all of us is my life’s work, Detective. Tea?”
 

“Yes, thanks. White no sugar,” Jamie said, wondering where a graduate student like Mascuria would get money for a flat like this, or for a painting that looked original.

“You were seated on the same table as the Nevilles at the gala dinner?” Jamie asked, when Mascuria returned with her tea.
 

“Yes,” Mascuria indicated a chair and, as Jamie sat down, he began to speak from the dominant position. She rose to her feet again, not allowing him the benefit of the high ground. She knew that the body language of power could make a difference to the perception of the suspect and Mascuria clearly knew it too. His eyes were sharp and deeply intelligent, used to manipulation. “I work for the Nevilles part time, helping with lab work, but I’m mainly working on my PhD. My studies are intimately connected with the Royal College of Surgeons.”
 

“Your specialty?” Jamie asked.
 

“Teratology. From the Greek for monster, it’s the study of abnormalities in physiological development, due to either genetics or environmental factors.” He paused. “It’s of personal importance to me as I have a spinal deformity.”

Jamie heard a restrained aggression behind his words, daring her to look away, the natural human response to deformity and physical imperfection. But he didn’t know about her daughter and Jamie just nodded, holding his eyes.
 

“Did you attend the dinner with anyone?”
 

Jamie noticed a micro hesitation, before Mascuria answered.
 

“I took Mimi, sorry, Miriam Stevens. She’s just a first year student, and she couldn’t afford the ticket. We’re not seeing each other though. I’m not … her type.”
 

Jamie considered his words, wondering at what was left unspoken.
 

“Can you describe what happened that night?”
 

Mascuria steepled his hands, as if about to begin a sermon.
 

“The dinner started late at 7.25 and the speakers went on too long, as usual. People wolfed down their starter, the main course was slower and then the mingling began. The dessert course was served on platters around the room to enable people to dance. Jenna was one of the first on the dance floor when the band started at around nine. Esther said she had a migraine and left the event soon after that, I think.” Jamie noticed the familiarity with which he spoke of the Nevilles. “Mimi wasn’t feeling so well, I think she’d drunk quite a lot by that stage, so we sat at the table for a while. Christopher - Lord Neville - was engaged in conversation with the Dean about money. Not a surprise, the man is constantly hounded for funding.”
 

Jamie caught a flicker of something in his eyes, but she wasn’t sure what.

“And about what time did you leave?”
 

“We stepped out at around 10pm. I took Mimi for a walk around the square, I thought some fresh air might help her.”
 

“And did it?” Jamie asked, well aware of what a walk around a square late at night after too much alcohol usually meant.
 

“Yes, we re-entered the party at around 11pm, and I saw Christopher there. But I didn’t see Jenna again.”

“That’s a long walk,” Jamie noted. “The square isn’t that large.”
 

Mascuria paused, his eyes unreadable. “We sat in the park for a while, talking. I gave her my jacket to wear as she was cold.”
 

Jamie changed tack. “Do you know of anyone who would have wanted to hurt Jenna?”
 

Mascuria looked towards his glass-walled garden and his voice was wistful. “She was fiercely intelligent as well as determined. I believe she may have made enemies through the causes she was pursuing.”
 

“Anything more specific?”
 

Mascuria turned. “To be honest, Detective, as part of her investigation she was going after the Royal College itself, focusing on the rights of the bodies that they have dissected over generations and trying to get recompense for the families, for victims of crimes against the body. She had probably made enemies of most of the people in that room, because she threatened their world.”
 

Jamie sensed something more behind his words but she couldn’t put her finger on what it was. She only knew that this man made her skin crawl, and looking at his thin white hands, she could only imagine what horrors he had dissected with them. Her years in the police had taught her that gut feel didn’t necessarily mean the person was guilty of the crime being investigated, but it sure as hell meant something else was wrong.

Chapter 11

Jamie had barely walked back in the office door before Missinghall called her over.

“You’ve got to see this footage. It’s from Carey Street, a couple of streets back from the Royal College of Surgeons. Not somewhere we checked on the initial sweep of the cameras.”
 

Jamie walked over to Missinghall’s desk, pulling up a chair so she could watch the screen with him. It showed a dark road, cars parked close to the kerb and street lamps casting shadows into the gloom. The impressive Gothic architecture of the Law Courts towered above, creating an interplay of chiaroscuro that drew the eye.
 

“Watch this,” Missinghall said and clicked Play.
 

Out of the darkness at the far end of the picture walked a man and a woman. The man was limping slightly, his shoulders misshapen.
 

“That’s Mascuria,” said Jamie, recognizing his gait. “But he said he was on the other side, walking in the park.”
 

Missinghall nodded. “And the girl is Mimi Stevens. His plus-one.”
 

Mimi stumbled a little and Mascuria put his arm around her waist, supporting her a little as he urged her faster down the road. Her head slumped on his shoulder, but she wasn’t resisting. A door opened from a dark luxury car in the foreground of the shot.
 

“It’s a Bentley Continental,” Missinghall said quietly, as they watched Mascuria lead the girl to the car, pull the door further open and help her into the front passenger seat. After the door closed, he stood for a moment leaning against the outside of the car looking up and down the street. Missinghall zoomed the footage in. It looked as if Mascuria was attaching something to the car window before he stepped away. He slipped into the shadows of the law courts, melting into the darkness, but he could still be seen as a faint outline.
 

“He stands there for almost forty minutes,” Missinghall said. “Let me fast forward.”
 

The minutes sped past on the video until Mascuria moved again to return to the car as the door opened. He helped Mimi out, at the same time slipping whatever device he had planted into his pocket. The girl stumbled against him again, seemingly drowsy. Mascuria pulled her skirt down as he held her up.
 

“She doesn’t remember anything at all?” Jamie asked.
 

He shook his head. “No, she says she has a blank for the evening after the starter course.”
 

“Likely Rohypnol or some other date rape drug,” Jamie said. “Get a couple of officers back to her place. There may still be physical evidence of assault … So who was in the car?”
 

Missinghall zoomed in the camera again.
 

“The number plate is obscured but the only Bentley Continental owned by anyone at the party belonged to Lord Christopher Neville.”

Jamie slammed her hand down on the desk. “Bastard,” she said. “But we don’t have a visual on him. I’m going back to Mascuria’s. I knew there was something up with him and I want to know what he put onto the outside of the car.”
 

“There’s something else,” Missinghall said. “Look at the time.” He pointed at the screen. “Mascuria alibis out during the time of Jenna’s death. This video clearly identifies him in that window of opportunity and if that’s Lord Neville inside, then that’s his alibi too.”
 

“But we can still get the two of them on assault if there’s enough evidence. It might give us some leverage to find out what else happened that night.” Jamie bent closer to the screen, examining the figure of Mascuria clutching the drooping girl. “Can you print some stills I can take back out? If he acts as some kind of pimp for Christopher Neville we need to know, and if they were out there, we don’t have an alibi for Esther Neville. Can you follow up on the taxis in the meantime?”

***

Twenty minutes later, Jamie pulled up outside Mascuria’s flat again, her anger at his abusive behavior barely controlled. He opened the door, a clear expression of antipathy on his face this time, every trace of his helpful attitude gone.
 

“Detective, back so soon. What else can you possibly want?”
 

Jamie pulled out the photos of him on the street, one with Mimi and one waiting outside the car. As he looked at them, Jamie was gratified to see his already pale face blanch, before his eyes narrowed. Jamie saw the warning there, but she was angry with his lies and didn’t intend to back down. He stepped away to allow her into the flat and walked ahead of her into the living room.
 

“You said earlier that you walked around the park,” Jamie tried to keep disgust from her voice. “But it seems you took Mimi to Lord Neville’s car and stood waiting for forty minutes. What happened in the car?” Mascuria was silent for a moment. Jamie knew that he was calculating how he could explain this in a way that would keep him out of trouble. “Just so you know, we’re interviewing Mimi Stevens again, and there may still be evidence of assault.” Jamie watched his face flush, with anger, perhaps jealousy. Had he wanted to be in the car with her? She went on the offensive. “Can you confirm that it was Lord Christopher Neville in the car?”
 

Mascuria turned away. “You don’t have anything on me, Detective. I was just walking Mimi to the vehicle for a consensual private meeting.”
 

Jamie knew there was only a small window of opportunity to take this further and she had to offer him something. She softened her voice.

“It’s an alibi for the murder, Edward. The time of death was during the interval of that video, so you now have an alibi for the murder of Jenna Neville. I want to know who was in the car so I can also rule them out for murder.”
 

Mascuria spun round, eyes suddenly hopeful. He was a bastard, for sure, but he hadn’t committed this murder, and clearly Christopher Neville would be grateful for an alibi.
 

“Yes, it was Christopher,” he said, with defiance. “But Mimi wanted to be with him.”

Jamie waved her hand, as if brushing away his words. “I don’t want to hear about it. But I do want the video you took.”
 

“There’s no video,” he said too quickly, but his face was clearly guilty as hell and his eyes flicked over to the Mac. Jamie walked to his desk and pulled out her cellphone.

“Have you heard of obstruction, Edward? Shall I take your computer down to the station and get it processed? What else will I find on it?”
 

Mascuria came very close, invading Jamie’s personal space and putting a possessive hand on top of the screen.
 

“You need a warrant for the computer, and you know it.”
 

Jamie didn’t back away, meeting his steely eyes with her own glare. She sensed that he felt her revulsion, but his physical deformity was nothing compared to his twisted morality.
 

“True,” she said, weighing up her choices. She wanted that file. “But I can make a call and stand here and wait for it. I’ve got all day. Or you can just give me that one file right now, and I’ll leave.”
 

Mascuria stared at her, his shark’s eyes calculating. Jamie felt a wave of violence emanate from him and she tensed her muscles, waiting for any indication that he would attempt to hurt her. She almost wanted him to try. After a few tense seconds, Mascuria breathed out slowly and she smelled decay on his breath.

“I’ll give it to you,” he said, stepping back. Jamie wondered what else he had on the laptop, because this clearly wasn’t the only time he had done this, she was sure of it. Was he blackmailing Neville? Did that account for the wealth he displayed in his so-called student flat? Whatever else he had on that computer, she couldn’t give him time to wipe this file.
   

She nodded and let him sit down at the desk. Mascuria turned the screen away from her and she stood with her back to the glass walled garden, watching him work. He plugged a USB stick into the side and quickly loaded it with a file. His eyes kept turning back to her, checking she was still far enough from him. After a minute, he pulled the USB stick out and thrust it at her.
 

“This had better be the right one,” Jamie said.

“I think you’d better leave now, Detective. I don’t have anything else for you.”
 

Jamie saw the threat mounting in his eyes, but she held them with her own until he looked away. She walked to the door, her back muscles tense, waiting for an attack that didn’t come.
 

Outside, Jamie mounted her bike and then looked back as she felt she was being watched. Through the wooden blinds, she could just make out Mascuria’s face at the window, his features twisted with hate.
 

***

Back at the station, Jamie handed the USB stick to Missinghall, who plugged it into the side of a separate desktop, disconnected from their main system in case of computer viruses.
 

“It’s clean,” he said, after a moment. “Now let’s have a look at what happened in that car.”
 

The video shot was clear but only had one angle. It started with Mimi entering the car and sitting in the front passenger seat, looking dazed and confused. In the background, Lord Christopher Neville sat with his suit jacket off, his top shirt button undone. There was no sound, but Mimi looked surprised as the seat she was on reclined. She fought to stay upright for a second but Neville leaned over and pushed her down with one firm hand on her breast.