Deadly Inferno (Detective Jane Phillips Book 11), page 14
McDonnell looked Bovalino up and down, then turned his attention back to Jones. ‘What’s this about?’
‘It’s probably better we speak inside – out of this wind,’ said Jones.
McDonnell took a moment to respond, then nodded reluctantly before pushing open the front door and stepping inside.
Following him in, the stench of stale tobacco was the first thing that hit Jones, who glanced back at Bovalino just behind.
His expression suggested his senses were being assaulted by the smell as well.
‘Lived here long, have you?’ Jones asked as they reached the sparsely furnished living room, which was equipped with nothing more than an ancient television set and a small two-seater sofa facing it. Scanning the room, he spotted at least four ashtrays placed around the space, each of them full to the brim with what appeared to be roll-up butts.
‘About five months, I think it is now,’ replied McDonnell, placing his shopping bags on the table in the kitchen area adjacent to the room they occupied now. ‘Since I left the halfway house.’
Jones had little desire to spend any more time than was completely necessary in this dank, depressing space, so he cut to the chase. ‘Where were you last Wednesday night – the eleventh of October?’
McDonnell picked up a pouch of rolling tobacco and some cigarette papers from the table next to him. ‘Mind if I smoke?’
‘If you must,’ said Jones flatly.
McDonnell took less than thirty seconds to fashion a slim white cigarette, and a moment later he placed it between his thin lips and lit it. The end glowed orange as he took a long drag before exhaling thick smoke from his mouth and nostrils. ‘What time on Wednesday night?’
‘Around nine o’clock,’ Jones replied.
McDonnell produced a wide grin, revealing crooked, tobacco-stained teeth. ‘I’d have been here. I rarely go out after seven p.m.’
‘You still on tag?’ Bovalino asked.
‘No, it came off last month, but when I was, I got into the habit of being in before seven, and it’s kinda stuck.’
‘Can anyone vouch for you?’ said Jones.
McDonnell took another long drag, exhaling smoke as he spoke. ‘My mum. She’s staying here with me at the moment.’
Jones felt his eyes narrow. ‘I thought the council only provided one-bed flats for single blokes?’
‘They do,’ McDonnell replied. ‘I’ve been sleeping on the couch.’
Bovalino glanced at the small sofa. ‘Can’t be very comfortable for you.’
McDonnell shrugged before taking another drag. ‘Beats a prison cell.’
‘So can we speak to your mum?’ Jones cut back in.
‘Not today. She’s in Southport on a day trip. The local Methodist church organised it.’
‘I see. And when will she be back?’ asked Jones.
‘Not till later this evening. I’ve got to go and pick her up from the church at nine.’
‘I thought you didn’t go out after seven?’ said Bovalino.
McDonnell smiled again. ‘I’m happy to make an exception for Mum. She’ll be here all day tomorrow, if you want to come back.’
‘We will,’ Jones replied. ‘And what about Monday night, just gone? Where were you then?’
‘Same. Here with Mum.’
Jones scrutinised the man’s face for any signs he was lying, but if he was, it didn’t show. He changed tack now. ‘Tell us about Archie Pearson.’
‘Archie?’ McDonnell appeared to flinch slightly. ‘What do you want to know about him?’
‘You did time with him, didn’t you?’ Jones replied.
‘Yeah, why?’
‘What was he like?’
‘Nothing special,’ said McDonnell. ‘Quiet, kept himself to himself.’
‘Seventeen years inside and he still claims to be innocent,’ said Jones. ‘What do you make of that?’
‘No one’s guilty in prison, DI Jones.’ McDonnell laughed. ‘We all just needed better lawyers.’
Jones said nothing for a moment as he studied the scarring on McDonnell’s neck. ‘Did you get those burns from the fires you set?’
At this, McDonnell’s posture visibly stiffened. ‘No. They were someone else’s handiwork.’
‘Really? Who?’
‘Thankfully I don’t remember. I was too young when it happened.’
‘So you got them as a kid?’
‘Yeah. I was about five or six at the time.’
‘I’m sorry to hear that,’ said Jones.
McDonnell suddenly stood to attention. ‘Where are my manners? Can I get you both a cup of tea or a coffee?’
‘No, thanks,’ Jones replied.
‘Are you sure? I got some biscuits from the shop.’
‘No, we’d better be going.’ Jones looked at Bovalino and then glanced in the direction of the front door.
The big Italian nodded his agreement.
‘We’ll be back tomorrow morning to speak to your mother,’ said Jones.
‘What time can I expect you?’ McDonnell finally stubbed out his cigarette. ‘I’ll make sure she’s ready.’
‘Probably around ten.’
McDonnell laughed nervously. ‘I really hope she’s not having one of her bad days and can’t remember. She has early onset dementia, you see.’
‘Just make sure you’re both here,’ replied Jones, his voice entirely neutral.
‘Where else am I going to go?’ said McDonnell. ‘With the paltry amount of benefits they give me each week, the only thing I can afford to do is sit in the flat and watch telly.’
Jones nodded without feeling. ‘We’ll see you tomorrow,’ he said before following Bovalino out.
29
‘Ithought I might be hearing from you today,’ said Townsend, flicking his cigarette stub to the ground as Phillips drew closer to the revolving-door entrance of the Manchester Evening News main building. ‘Although it’s not often you come all the way into the city to see me.’
Despite the overwhelming urge she felt to give him a piece of her mind, Phillips knew Townsend would be far easier to negotiate with if she stroked his ego as opposed to taking him down a peg or two. ‘I need your help, Don.’
Townsend raised his eyebrows. ‘Really? This sounds like fun.’
‘Is there somewhere more private we can talk?’
‘Well, now I’m really intrigued.’ He gestured away from the building. ‘Let’s take a walk in St John’s Gardens.’
A few minutes later, Phillips found herself walking side by side with Townsend through the small inner-city park located just a few hundred metres from Spinningfields, one of the city’s main business districts. She was more than familiar with her surroundings, having investigated a fatal stabbing that had taken place in this popular public space just a few short months ago. The park was also strongly connected to Townsend and his former lover, Victoria Carpenter. Several years ago, she had fought to protect the park from greedy Realtors connected to the Chinese mafia, and that battle had ultimately cost her her life.
‘Any news on when they’ll be putting up Vicky’s memorial plaque?’ asked Phillips.
‘Spring next year,’ he said in a low voice. ‘Everything seems to take forever when you’re dealing with the council.’
‘I can imagine.’
‘It’s ironic, really. Aaron, as the supposed grieving widower, will be the guest of honour at the official ceremony, when it was always me she loved, and it was my baby she was carrying.’
Phillips didn’t know how to respond to his candour, so thought it best to say nothing.
Thankfully Townsend appeared just as keen to change the subject as she was. ‘So, what can I do for you, Jane?’
‘I need you to take a step back from publishing any more content on the arson attacks.’
Townsend stopped in his tracks. ‘You’ve got to be kidding?’
She looked him square in the face. ‘I’m deadly serious, Don.’
‘Now, why would I want to do that? The article has already had close to half a million views since it landed this morning and almost two hundred thousand shares. My editor is over the moon.’
Phillips scanned her surroundings to ensure she couldn’t be overheard before speaking in a low voice. ‘Look, Don. I can’t get into the details just now, but I need you to trust me on this one. I’m working on something big that’s connected to these investigations, and your stories could seriously jeopardise the outcome.’
‘Sorry, Jane, but you’re going to have to give me more than that.’
‘I can’t. Not yet.’
Townsend shrugged as he turned back in the direction of his offices. ‘Well then, I can’t help you.’
She placed her hand on his wrist as she attempted to stop him leaving. ‘I promise you’ll get the exclusive once I can share it.’ She held his gaze. ‘And it’ll be big, Don, far bigger than this story now.’
‘Really?’ His eyes narrowed. ‘How much bigger?’
‘Bigger than anything I’ve ever given you before.’
‘Okay. I’m still listening.’
‘All I need you to do is hold off on printing anything further connecting Pearson to the recent arson attacks.’
‘Why?’ he asked.
‘I can’t say at the moment, but I promise it’ll all make sense in time. And it’ll be worth it.’
Townsend scratched his stubbly chin. ‘So what do I do in the meantime? Like I say, my editor is chomping at the bit to get more content out.’
She took a moment before answering. While she hated divulging operational information, she knew she had to give him a bone of some sort. ‘Look, I can’t promise it’ll be today – or even tomorrow for that matter, but I’ve drafted in a specialist to help me create a psychological profile of the arsonist. Once I have it confirmed, I’ll share it with you.’
‘And I can print it?’
Phillips nodded reluctantly. ‘Yes.’
‘And just to be clear, you’ve got no issue with me doing a follow-up on the fires as long as I stay away from the Pearson link?’
‘None at all,’ she conceded.
‘Okay,’ said Townsend. ‘I can live with that. As long as I still get the exclusive when the time comes.’
‘You will,’ she said.
‘Sounds like a win-win to me.’
As the wind suddenly picked up and blew across the park, Phillips shoved her hands deep into her coat pockets. ‘I’d better be getting back.’
Townsend pulled a pack of cigarettes from his pocket. ‘Think I’ll have another smoke to celebrate our deal.’
Phillips nodded. ‘I’ll be in touch,’ she said, then set off back to the car.
30
Phillips removed her coat and hung it on the back of her office door before resetting her ponytail, then heading out into the main office to check in on the rest of the team. ‘How did you get on with McDonnell?’ she asked as she took her usual position at the spare desk.
Jones leaned back in his chair. ‘He was a funny little guy, to be honest.’
‘How do you mean, funny?’
‘Well, he was just a bit odd. Bov and I were saying on the drive back, considering he’s in his mid-fifties, he seemed a lot older. Very small and slight with almost translucent skin. To be honest, he didn’t look well to me.’
‘Not surprising considering how much he smokes,’ added Bovalino. ‘The place reeked of stale fags.’
‘So, what did he have to say for himself about his whereabouts on the nights of the fires?’
‘Reckons he was at home with his mum, who’s staying with him at the moment,’ Jones replied.
‘And did she vouch for him?’
Jones shook his head. ‘She wasn’t there. Out for the day apparently on a trip to Southport with the local church. We’ve arranged to go back tomorrow morning and speak to her. He made some remark before we left about her having early onset dementia, so we’ll have to wait and see how reliable she is.’
Phillips rolled her eyes. ‘It’s never straightforward, is it?’
‘No.’ Jones chuckled. ‘Never.’
Just then Phillips’s phone vibrated in her pocket. Fishing it out, she could see it was Dr Siobhan Harris calling. ‘Siobhan, how’s it going?’
‘Good, Jane. I’ve had a look at the info you sent through and worked up a profile.’
‘Great,’ said Phillips. ‘I’m just going to put you on speaker if that’s okay? I’m here with the guys.’
‘No problem.’
Phillips activated the speaker function and held the phone out in front of her mouth. ‘Ready when you are, Siobhan.’
‘Hi, guys,’ she said.
A chorus of hellos filled the air a second later.
With the room silent once more, Harris continued, ‘Okay. Well, first things first, generally speaking, we can separate fire setters into two main groups – there are actually five groups, but to get into that level of detail, I’d need to examine the subject face to face. So for the purpose of a profile such as this, we’ll look at the main two. Group one is made up of those who like fire, and group two is those who use it as a convenient tool for interpersonal violence. I’d say your guy is in the first group. Based on the information you gave me, we can presume he has a strong relationship with fire, a sense of connection that has developed over time. He may even become aroused when he’s in contact with fire.’
‘Sexually?’ said Phillips, the note of surprise clear in her voice.
‘Not necessarily. More likely his adrenaline will spike when he sees it, and his heart starts pumping. It’s a living thing – one that will get him excited, the smell of the smoke, the colour and movement of the flames. They all mean something to him.’
‘Okay. What else can you tell us about him?’
‘Well, he likely started his relationship with fire at an early age. It would have been playful and inquisitive at first, such as setting fire to dry grass and leaves in the summer months, but he would probably have graduated quite quickly to bigger objects once he realised the destructive power of fire. Looking at the device he used for the second blaze, I would say he has a deep understanding of fire and how it can be harnessed to his own ends.’ She paused for a moment, allowing the officers present to consider her insights.
‘Hi Siobhan, it’s Jonesy.’ He spoke in a loud voice, sitting forward so he was closer to the phone. ‘On the method of fire setting, I’ve got a question.’
‘Hi, Jonesy. Sure.’
‘Is there anything significant in the fact he used a Molotov cocktail on the first fire and the small incendiary device on the second?’
‘I think there is, actually,’ replied Harris. ‘Obviously, I can’t say for certain, but one of the dominant traits in fire setters is a desire for control. I think the fact he started the fire outside of the first building could suggest it was his first time setting a fire of this size – or at the very least, his first time in a long time. Once he had confidence in his ability, he was then able to set the second fire up close and personal, so to speak.’
Jones nodded. ‘Makes sense.’
‘So do we have any idea of what kind of man we’re looking for, physically and mentally, for example?’ asked Phillips.
‘Again, profiling isn’t an exact science, but I’d say your man is somewhat of a loner, someone who keeps himself to himself. He’s unlikely to be married or in a relationship and probably lives alone. Alternatively, he could also share a home but with someone who leaves him to his own devices, such as an elderly relative. Outwardly he’s likely to be polite and mild mannered, subservient even, but this will mask his inner rage, which will probably have been building steadily since he was a kid, when he likely experienced some form of significant trauma. That’s usually the root cause of fire setting: events from childhood.’
Phillips spotted Jones and Bovalino exchanging knowing glances. ‘What is it?’ she asked.
‘It might be nothing, guv,’ said Jones, ‘but the doc’s profile sounds a lot like McDonnell: single, lives with an elderly parent and very polite and mild mannered.’
‘He also said he’d got those burn scars from a fire when he was just a young kid,’ added Bov.
‘Who are we talking about?’ Harris cut in.
‘A person of interest the guys spoke to today. He’s out on licence after serving seven years for setting fire to a boarding kennel for dogs. Killed ten animals in one night. He also spent time on the same block of Hawk Green prison as Archie Pearson.’
‘Sounds like a very strong match for the profile,’ said Harris.
Phillips nodded. ‘I agree.’ She turned her attention to Bovalino. ‘Get the car keys,’ she instructed. ‘We’re not waiting until tomorrow; we need to bring him in now.’
The big man nodded, then stepped up from the chair.
Phillips matched him. ‘Thanks, Siobhan. First-rate work as ever. Look, we’d better go, but we’ll keep you posted.’
‘Please do,’ Harris replied. ‘And good luck.’
31
Under blues and twos, and with Bovalino at the wheel – an amateur rally driver on the weekends – the twenty-minute journey to Burnage took just over ten. Jumping out of the squad car in unison, Jones led the way as they raced up the concrete stairs to the third floor, turning right onto the exposed landing a minute later.
‘It’s that one at the end, guv.’ Jones pointed towards McDonnell’s flat, which was cloaked in darkness.
‘Doesn’t look like he’s in,’ surmised Phillips.
‘I wouldn’t put it past this fella to be sitting in the dark,’ added Bovalino. ‘He was a bit of a weirdo, like.’
Jones stepped forward and banged heavily on the flat’s front door.
Just as Phillips had feared, there was no answer, so she dropped to her haunches and pushed open the letter box before shouting her instructions. ‘Open up; it’s the police.’
No response.
She repeated the process, shouting louder this time.
Again, nothing.
Phillips stood.
‘What time did he say he was picking up his mother from her trip?’ said Jones.
