Chapter 19 Chapter Eighteen

Late Wednesday evening, the investigative team breathed a sigh of relief when Walter Tudin awoke from a coma.The investigation into Kevin Atkins' phone has been slow.The last incoming call before Jackson was from a payphone at Waterloo Station.They had had a glimmer of hope that the phone booth would still be able to provide the information at the time after so many days, but that hope was quickly shattered, and the information there was wiped out once a day.Jones refused to authorize a forensic examination. "We might as well dig a hole and just pour money into it," he said dryly.

More than 60 entries in the phone's address book were traced to no avail.Most of the contacts were friends, family or business acquaintances, most of whom had been sought and excluded at the time of Atkins' murder.The remaining 15 people, including three gay men, are veterans and have all vindicated themselves. Four more names were to be checked, but none of the four numbers could be reached.They are "Mickey", "Cass", "Sam" and "Zoe", all with only a single name and no last name, and it is not sure if they are members of the Atkins family.The investigative team is awaiting data retrieval from server files.They warn that results may take days to come out if files from multiple servers are involved.Nonetheless, there is a good chance that these numbers were registered under the company's name, which would involve further protracted investigations.

Police also had a small hope that a different SIM card had been inserted into the phone after it was taken from Atkins' home, but that turned out to be nothing.DNA extracted from the microphone's saliva has been proven to be that of the victim.When Detective Superintendent Jones asked "why would the killer take Atkins' cell phone into a public place," the psychoanalyst shook his head and said it didn't make any sense to him. "You really don't have a better explanation?" "That's all for now. Don't think about it, I don't recall a serial killer ever carrying a loot with him. A killer's usual modus operandi is to keep anything relevant to the crime within his reach... usually his Home. You'll have to give me another day or two to study."

Jones leaned forward. "Suppose the boy got it wrong? Suppose he stole it from a woman? What difference would it make?" "From which side?" “Women take really good care of their bags or backpacks. If my wife wants to hide something, especially something small, she puts it in the very bottom of the bag and carries it with her.” The psychologist shrugged. "How sure are you that the boy who stole the phone is telling the truth?" "not sure." "Then before you make a hasty U-turn, I suggest talking to him again. The most obvious reason for walking around with loot is because there's nowhere to store them."

"What's the meaning?" "The murderer you're looking for could be a homeless man." Arranging another interview with Ben Russell took a full 24 hours, and by the time the boy's lawyer finally agreed to spare some time at 5 o'clock on Wednesday, Jones had run out of patience. "Criminals have too much blood power in this country," he complained to Bill as they drove to the hospital, "and if this kid doesn't have a dog guarding him, we only need half a second to make him talk. " "We could get him to say it," Bill agreed, "but I wouldn't bet it would be any more true than what he's told us." He cut off because the sheriff had a call.Seeing the sheriff smiling and pumping his fist in the air, Bill asked, "What's up?"

"Taddin's awake." He keyed in his secretary's phone number. "Lizzie? Change of plans. I need you to contact Ben Russell's attorney and tell him we'll be seeing the kid later. Yes ...yes...I know he's a nasty guy...tell him I don't care if he's there or not. That kid is lying shamelessly and we both get it." Jackson walked towards the BMW.When Ackland stepped out of the shadows between the two buildings in the middle of Murray Street, she was startled. She hadn't seen him since the first day she left the lesbian house.Judging from his unshaven face and rumpled shirt, he seemed to have spent the night on the streets.Of course he didn't go back to the bar.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" she asked angrily. With a crappy old-fashioned motion, he slung his coat over his shoulders as if he had just stepped out of the 1930s. "Hitchhiking," he said. "Where have you been? What have you been doing?" "Just walk around." "Thirty hours?" she said sharply. "Come on! Daisy and I were worried. You're lucky the police didn't decide to question you. You should stay in the pub." "Sorry." As she put the medical kit in the trunk, he went around to the other side of the BMW and opened the door for her.

"If I had known it would upset you so much, I wouldn't have done it." "I'm not upset, I'm angry." "Whatever it is." He opened the car door all the way. "You weren't on duty last night. I thought you and Daisy needed to spend time together sometimes, and she made it very clear that she didn't like me around." "So now it's Daisy's fault again?" Jackson said sternly, striding behind him and snatching the car door from him. Master Yi. In my opinion, he is a nasty sycophant, a clown in a suit, and a boring mother... I am not so easily restrained."

But she was wrong.Of course it didn't occur to her to ask why he chose to open the rear door and throw his coat on the back seat of the car. She didn't ask him what he was doing.However, she didn't know whether it was her choice or Akram's choice, which brought the conversation to his mother.She had also tried in the past few days to encourage him to talk about his family, and she was surprised by his sudden willingness to talk about his relationship with his parents. "If it takes a boring mother to make a man like young Master Fauntleroy, then you're confusing me with someone else," he said casually, buckling up his seat belt. 'Boring' to describe my mother. Anyways, both in school and at Sandhurst Army Academy, I was taught courtesy, 'behavior makes man'...and all that crap...but I Never figured out why women were allowed to be as rude as they wanted."

This of course piqued Jackson's curiosity, especially since she had always thought of the Lieutenant as a straitened Puritan.He rarely uses vulgar language unless he is very angry. "You think I'm rude?" "yes." "We came from very different backgrounds. My grandparents were working class blood sweaters who were humble and never had an equal opportunity." She gave him a mocking glance. "My grandparents didn't say much to anyone. Reason for thanks. Kneeling down to privileged people like you is in their DNA." "You've done well," he said curtly. "At least your hard-working ancestors sounded real. And I, besides being sent to boarding school at the age of eight, gave my parents a modicum of dignity." I don’t even know what privilege is, other than a sense of superiority. Appearance is everything in my house. It doesn’t matter how much dirt is buried underneath as long as the surface is decent.”

"What kind of dirt?" "Anything that embarrasses the family. My dad's dad was an alcoholic - he was drunk 24/7 - but my mother told everyone he had Parkinson's. When he lost his temper, I was very upset. Afraid of him. He kicked the family dog ​​to death in front of me when I was ten. I was too scared to say anything...but I really hated him for it." "Did he hit your grandma?" "Probably. She left my father when he was born. I never saw her—I don't think my father did either." "Where are your mother's parents?" Aklan shook his head, "I've never seen them. As far as I know, she had a very violent quarrel with her parents when she married my father. They immigrated to Canada... but I don't know what happened after they quarreled." It's preflop or postflop. Mom gets excited every time they're mentioned...so no one talks about them." He leaned forward, massaging his temples, "she might—" He broke off abruptly. "what?" "nothing." "Do you get on well with her?" He didn't answer. "You mean bad?" "She likes to get her own way. Sometimes I wonder if that's what caused her fights with her parents. If they didn't like my dad, they might have tried to stop the marriage." "What's not to like?" "Maybe they thought he was going to be like his father." "Does he have it?" Akram shook his head. "On the contrary. He spent his whole life trying to make up for my grandfather's failures." "In what way?" "Using house and farm mortgages to pay off his old father's debts and trying to succeed. He had a herd of cows, but when milk prices fell and cows became a losing business, I convinced him to sell them, But—” He paused, shrugging. "What?" Jackson asked. "Stupid old fool got another flock of sheep. There's always too much debt hanging over that place. The best he can afford after the mortgage is over will be a small cheap apartment in some low-density housing estate." brick house." "What's wrong with that?" "Mother wouldn't like it." Jackson smiled slightly, "Not magnificent enough?" "Basically. Not worth it anyway. She's going to be at war with the neighbors in no time." He stared at the windshield. "Papa's income from the sheep is just enough to keep them there , but very unstable." "Does your mother know?" "I doubt it. If she knew, she would make my father's life worse than death." Jackson recalled the conversation she had with Robert Willis that morning, when she called and asked Robert because Charles hadn't returned: "Will he go to his parents?" "I don't think so. He's at odds with his mother. But I'm not so sure about his relationship with his father. He talks about his father with more sympathy ... usually about the farm and the amount of work his father had to put in. Willis' calm smile came down the phone line. "His mother seems to be very laid back...I think that might put Charles off guard." "Where's his girlfriend? I know you said there was no relationship between them, but will she take him in for the sake of the past?" "Jane? I'm afraid not. She might agree to take him in, but I don't think Charles would even ask. Does she know that Charles lives with you?" "I don't know. He's never called. . . If he doesn't come out with me on the night shift, he stays in his room." "Stay in your room even when you're not sleeping?" "Yes." Jackson sighed. "He seems to have a problem with Daisy, which makes our life difficult. If we meet Daisy by chance, he pretends not to see it, and Daisy gets very angry." Willis hesitated, "What kind of personality is Daisy? Friendly? Gentle and kind?" "Exactly. I've been wondering if he's in love with Daisy." "I don't think so. I think it's more likely that he's afraid Daisy likes him. It's really hard for him to read a woman's motives." "Because of that girlfriend?" "Because of that relationship, of course. He talks about signing with a fantasy. I take that to mean he's expecting to settle down with Jen and live happily ever after...but it just didn't turn out that way." "why?" "He never told me," Willis said, "but I can make an educated guess. For a number of reasons—mainly, I guess, because Jane let her true character out—Charles' fantasy So shattered." He paused, "Jane would have me believe that she chose to end the relationship, but I don't think that's the case. I'm 90 percent sure it was Charles who initiated the breakup, before he realized After how angry Jane made him." "You said he put his hand on Jane's neck in the hospital. Has he done anything like this before?" "I'm guessing the violence escalated later in their engagement. Jen had issues of her own that probably pissed off Charles." "What kind of violence?" A moment of hesitation. "I just know one more thing. Jane described to me a particularly vicious rape that I believe happened. Charles was clearly ashamed of something in their relationship, and it seemed to me that the most The probable cause was rape. I guess Jen was manipulating him sexually — giving him and rejecting him on a whim — which is why he found it difficult to read women." Jackson was silent for a while, this was information she had not received before. "Well, let me get this straight," she whispered, with a hint of sarcasm, "Charles didn't give sex when he wanted it, so he took it by force...and then...he didn't like seeing himself as that So he ditched his fiancée, and is ashamed to speak of it now? Do you mean that?" "Not exactly. I think you're embellishing what Jen told me. She talked about a rape. As I just pointed out, I believe it did happen...the violence escalated to the extreme and turned into a forced sex act . Charles has since cut all ties with her." "bully!" "Perhaps, but don't think Jen is beyond reproach. As a couple, they just didn't get along — in every way — and it seems to me that Charles started trying to work his way out of it as soon as he realized it." "You're making a lot of assumptions in his favor," Jackson said tartly. "Why didn't you tell me before?" "Because there is no evidence to support Jane's allegations. Charles has not admitted to anything." Jackson was unimpressed, "It's fine to put a rapist on me—he should have a job to burn off his energy—but it's another thing to put him in a life with Daisy. If he mistakenly puts What about friendship as a sexual request?" "That's why he's avoiding Daisy," Willis said matter-of-factly, "He doesn't want to get involved in another relationship based on flirting," he immediately corrected, "I'm not saying your partner is Looking for anything other than friendship - and certainly, don't think Charles would - but he has strong suspicions of women who use physical touch to show sympathy." "It's almost like not answering my question." "I know." He paused to collect his thoughts. "Of course, I'm not 100 percent sure, but I'd be very surprised if Daisy was threatened by Charles. The only two women he's ever shown real hostility to are, One was his mother, the other Jen...and both of them exhibited narcissistic personality traits. In fact, his feelings for his mother may well have been the reason he was attracted to Jen in the first place.” Willis fell into another There was a thoughtful silence. "Go on," Jackson prompted. "Jen's personality was so familiar to him that he mistook that familiarity for love. I suspect he didn't even know how narcissism manifested itself in the early stages of a relationship, and he certainly didn't expect it to be attractive. charismatic traits." Jackson stopped behind a long line of cars, waiting to turn right. "How's your relationship with your parents?" she asked Ackland. "They've been married for over 30 years." She let out a sneer. "What does that mean? Does it mean they're living happily together...or are they biting the bullet and getting by because there's never been anyone better?" Aklan shrugged, "I didn't ask." Jackson shot him a look. "Isn't a successful relationship obvious?" "Not so with me." "why?" "It depends on how you define success." "I usually judge a couple by how well they communicate. If they find each other interesting, then it's natural to enjoy talking. They exchange information...share a sense of humor...and want their partner to enjoy what they're enjoying. I have seen many problematic relationships in my work, and their common denominator is often mutual avoidance and silence.” "It's better than endless bickering." "Not necessarily," Jackson objected. "For some people, fighting is a form of communication. It's also a sign that there's a level playing field in their relationship. I'm skeptical when it comes to the other side. The strong side is often violent, and I've seen it too many times." Ackland said nothing. "Did your parents fight?" "Only in private. When I was a kid, I used to hear them arguing all over the place." "So you don't want arguments in your relationship?" "yes." "Do you think this is achievable?" she asked. "Women have come a long way in 30 years, and now there are very few women who don't stand up for themselves when they disagree." Get behind the wheel and prepare to turn before the light turns green, "You don't really expect your idea to win every time, do you?" "No." "Then there's bound to be arguments," she said matter-of-factly, "and Daisy and I agree on most things, but there's always bumps... but I don't regret it, and these fights make me understand what's right for her." really important." "You guys lose your temper with each other?" Jackson shook his head. "No. We occasionally raise our voices and go out or walk away angrily, but not to the point of being mad." "Who usually wins?" She glanced at him happily. "Who do you think?" He was going to say "you", but changed his mind when he said, "Daisy." "Each time," she agreed, "I don't have her stamina. If it doesn't go her way, she'll have a hard time with you for a month. Is it the same with your mother?" The question, which caught Ackram off guard, led him to an honest answer, "Never to that extent. Daddy gave up making her mad a long time ago." Jackson found his vocabulary amusing, "I think you said they were always bickering." "When I was a kid...now it's not arguing anymore." "So you weren't joking when you said they were fighting all out? Were those all physical fights you've heard?" ?"silence. "Judging from what you said, your mother is more tempered than your father." "It can be said like this." "Did you inherit that?" He turned and stared at her. "I don't look like my mother at all," he said flatly. Jackson shrugged. "So, like your father, you always avoided conflict?" "Yes," he said sternly. "You didn't back down during the clashes with Rashid Mansour at the bar," she pointed out. "You attacked him with all your might." "He shouldn't have provoked me." "Just like your father shouldn't provoke your mother?" no answer. "Are you sure that the facts you know are always correct?" Jackson deliberately prodded him, and softly rebuked him, "Are you sure it wasn't your mother who provoked first, and then your father went into a rage? If he avoids conflict now, it's almost certain It was he who had learned to control his anger." Akram leaned forward and pressed his thumb and forefinger to the bridge of his nose. "He's too spineless to be angry about anything," he said contemptuously. "After his mother stabbed his arm with a knife, he had to Don't drive himself bloodied to emergency. He came back and told me he had been cut by barbed wire. It was pathetic. He was always making excuses for his mother." "Maybe he was protecting you." "After that, he made sure everything happened behind the door ... and sent me off to school. We played seat games around my mother so she could do whatever she wanted." "Do you look down on your father because of this?" "Yes." He kept loosening and clenching his fist until his knuckles clicked. Privately, Jackson sympathized with him.She thought that much of his character could be explained if he showed no respect for the milder side of his parental role model.She even wondered if his problems with his mother stemmed from a confused admiration for her strength. "It's just that violent patterns are hard to break, Charles. If your father had a wife-beating, alcoholic father who grew up violent, he must have needed extraordinary control to put up with your mother's similar behavior...then Get to a point where it's never going to happen again. Most people will give your dad a thumbs up." "Not me. He shouldn't have married my mother, unless he liked being a doormat." "He probably didn't know at first...unless your mother's parents warned him," Jackson shrugged slightly, "and that's probably why your mother fell out with them. But even if they did warn, your father wouldn't believe it." . Her relationship with them will be very different from her relationship with your father." Akram shook his head stubbornly. "He's lived with his own father long enough. If he ever had the guts to fight his father, he might have fought my mother." "Is that how you managed your relationship with Jane?" The question hung in the air, and Akram didn't answer it. "You can't seem to decide which of your parents to emulate," Jackson continued, "whether it's more important to prove who's boss... or to walk away when the violence gets out of hand. Did you feel a sense of satisfaction when you hurt Jen?" Akram stared at her, "Not as satisfied as when I hurt my mother." After he finished speaking, he turned his head and looked out the window.