Chapter Five
Jennifer pressed her failing pen against the paper as she took notes. It felt peculiar, taking a statement from her old school mate. She had hoped to spare her blushes by racing through their discussion, but Christian Bowe’s playful mood meant he was not going to allow her off the hook that easily. Jennifer folded a victim pamphlet and shoved it under the leg of the table before returning to her paperwork. Her handwriting was bad enough, but the wonky table had made it look as if a spider had crawled all over the page.
Christian looked immaculate, even after ten hours of filming. He had come straight from the London studio, still wearing his usual black jeans and crisp white shirt, his rolled-up sleeves complementing his tanned skin. The open neck of his shirt revealed a small silver cross resting just beneath his collarbone. Jennifer inhaled the elegant scent of Paco Rabanne as it lingered in the air. It was a vast improvement on the usual smells in the poky witness interview room.
Christian tilted his blond head to one side and smiled; the same expression on the TV shows that had made him the housewife’s favourite. ‘Jenny Knight, I just can’t believe it’s you. It’s so good to see you again.’
Jennifer nodded as another wave of embarrassment washed over her. Christian had always been tactile, and had hugged her tightly when he realised who she was. She was pleased she had chosen to wear her new black suit to work. It had been an impulse buy when she was checking out the new designer store on the posh side of Haven. The strappy black heels were also crying out to be taken home, but at least now she could justify the dent in her credit card. Her adolescent crush for Christian had long since evaporated, but there was nothing worse than seeing a blast from the past when you looked like crap.
‘You haven’t changed much since our schooldays,’ she said, preferring to get back to the task in hand.
‘Thanks. And what about you? I would never have guessed you’d turn out to be a detective. I mean, you were always playing truant at school,’ Christian smiled.
Jennifer grinned at the memory. She hated high school because it separated her from Amy. She used to bunk off to watch her in the primary school playground at lunchtime, jumping the fence if anyone dared utter a cross word in her sister’s direction.
‘Yeah. I managed to sort myself out in the end. You seem to have done pretty well.’
Christian nodded. ‘I was lucky, I fell in with the right people who accepted me for who I was.’
Jennifer had heard about his engagement to Felicity Baron, newly fledged reality TV star. The publicity had rocketed his stardom even further, and a week rarely passed without the pair of them featuring in celebrity gossip magazines.
Jennifer cleared her throat, concentrating on the task in hand. The statement complete, she had one more question to go before completing the victim personal statement, a series of questions involving the impact of the crime on his personal life. Such statements were useful in court, and proved to convey the far-reaching consequences of crime.
‘I just have one more question for you, how has this made you feel, being a victim of harassment by your cousin?’
The smile slid from Christian’s face and he threaded his fingers together. ‘I feel terrible for reporting this, but I’m worried what he’s going to do next. He’s hurt people, I know he has, and I can’t help but feel responsible.’ He sighed, his eyes filled with an apology that was not his to make.
‘If you don’t mind me saying, there’s quite an age gap between you and your cousin.’
‘Bert’s mum was a lot older than mine. Auntie Grace had her twins in her teens, while I was a late in life surprise,’ Christian smiled.
Jennifer rested her pen on the desk. ‘Families come in all shapes and sizes. Well, normally harassments would be dealt with by uniformed officers, but you mentioned a premonition of a murder, and I happen to be one of the few people in Haven nick who takes these things seriously. I’m not going to include it in your statement, but I will record it in my pocket notebook. Is that OK with you?’
Christian nodded. ‘Of course. I’m just happy someone’s willing to listen to me.’
Jennifer flicked open her notebook, dating the top of the page and recording the time using the twenty-four-hour clock. The leather-bound cover bore the Op Moonlight logo, and was stamped confidential.
‘What can you tell me?’ Jennifer said.
Christian gesticulated as he spoke, his fingers composing his words. ‘Firstly I want to impart just how bad I feel about all of this. I heard the institution was releasing my cousin into the community, and I didn’t want to know. Since his release, I’ve been getting these frightening visions. He’s plotting to murder people.’
Jennifer raised an eyebrow. ‘You’ve already mentioned the strange phone calls, but they’re non-threatening. What makes you think he’s capable of murder?’
‘Like I said, he rambles on about the past when he calls me. But he’s mentally ill. I don’t care what the hospital says – they shouldn’t have released him.’ Christian looked at her pleadingly, his eyes wide with anxiety. ‘I trust my premonitions, Jennifer, it’s a warning, I know it.’
This was a side of Christian that was not shown on the TV screens. She had watched as his career took hold, long after they lost touch, and tried to imagine what it must have felt like to be in his shoes. He always seemed so happy in the public eye, but as Jennifer was quickly learning, people revealed a different side to themselves when the cameras were turned off.
‘Can you be a bit more specific?’ she said. ‘I want to help, but we don’t have a lot to go on. The harassment offence barely warrants me giving him a warning, and murderous thoughts aren’t a crime.’
Christian closed his eyes and drew slow, soothing breaths in through his nostrils and out through his mouth. Resting his hands on his lap, his voice became thick and drawn as he entered a trance-like state. ‘He’s in a dark space. It’s enclosed, and it’s cold. Almost like a tomb.’ Christian raised his hand and raked his nails across the back of his neck. ‘The itching. It’s driving him insane. Driving him to the point of …’
Jennifer soundlessly scribbled in her notebook, recording his comments word for word. Christian stiffened in his chair, and his voice invoked a sense of urgency. ‘He’s planning to kill … he has clear intentions. He believes he’s gaining from their deaths.’ A long pause followed and Christian’s eyes fluttered open. ‘I can’t … I can’t make anything else out. I’m sorry.’
Jennifer sighed, frustrated by the lack of information. A small part of her was glad Op Moonlight’s remit was hidden from the public, otherwise half her working day would be dealing with incidents she was unable to resolve. Haven kept her busy enough as it was. On one side were the wealthy residents who lived in luxury townhouses and commuted to their high-powered jobs. The other side was aptly nicknamed the old town. Forgotten and dilapidated, the land harboured a darkness borne from historic battles and ferocious witch hunts. Superstitious practices were passed down from one generation to another, and strangers were regarded with narrow-eyed mistrust.
‘I need details. Locations, times, method. Have you a photo of your cousin? An address?’
‘I’d describe him as a tall, thin, gaunt-looking man with grey hair. But I haven’t seen him in years. The institution said he was being released to a hostel. They asked me to take him, but I declined. I just don’t have the time to give him what he needs.’
Jennifer tapped her bottom lip thoughtfully. No doubt, his fiancée wasn’t too keen on the idea either. ‘Your cousin, does he read the tarot cards? Possess any psychic gifts?’
‘Not that I know of,’ Christian said.
‘Does he drive?’
‘He’s been sectioned for half of his life, I doubt he’d have a driver’s licence. Why?’