Leo
There was one person at the centre of this that Leo was yet to re-interview after the second appearance of the killer: Jago Jackson. He didn’t want to alert the man that he was looking hard at him as a suspect so he made an appointment to meet Jackson where the first murder was discovered. He gave the excuse that he wanted to find out more about wild swimming in Oxford.
Jago walked briskly up to join Leo on the park bench overlooking the river. It was a windy day of fast changing sunlight and shadows as the clouds raced each other across the sky. The aspens were dipping and shivering, leaves flashing their paler undersides. A swan swimming upstream struggled with the indignity as the wind blew its tail feathers the wrong way.
‘Thank you for coming,’ Leo said as Jago reached him.
‘Better out here than in my college at the moment. Normal life is suspended thanks to the film crew.’ Jago unbuttoned his jacket and sat down, completely at his ease. He was an athletic looking man, pale considering how much time he spent outdoors. Dark hair, dark eyes, forehead furrowed: he would’ve fitted in among monks in a medieval scriptorium with that earnest academic air he had, thought Leo.
‘I can imagine. Any change since we last spoke? Have you noticed anyone following you or being where they shouldn’t?’
Jago shrugged. ‘Nothing. I lead a quiet life of libraries and college. It’s hard for anyone to get close to me unless they catch me outside and then I’m usually moving pretty fast, either running or cycling.’
‘Or swimming?’
‘Not so much of that going on at the moment.’ Jago smoothed his hair back but it flopped over his forehead again. ‘It’s annoying. I should be swimming each morning but the attacks have stopped that. I love this place.’
Leo followed his eyes to the gentle current of the river. It looked much less threatening in the daylight, almost inviting as the light sparkled on the wavelets the breeze kicked up. ‘Yes, I can see that you might miss that.’
‘Do you know the stories?’ Jago asked, turning to Leo with a light in his eyes of someone eager to convert another to their passion.
‘Stories?’
‘About Parson’s Pleasure. It’s been in use since at least the sixteenth century. There are lots of anecdotes, like the one about the Warden of Wadham College, Maurice Bowra?’
Leo gestured for him to go on.
Jago grinned. ‘Imagine a gaggle of portly dons swimming in the noddy, sunning themselves on the bank. A punt of ladies went by. The other men covered their genitals with their hats whereas Bowra covered his face. He was said to have quipped that he didn’t know about them, but he for one was known by his face around Oxford.’
Leo laughed. ‘And you? Do you swim naked?’ He wondered if stripping the bodies was connected to this wild swimming folklore.
Jago shook his head with a wry smile. ‘I’m not that uninhibited.’
Though Leo would call himself an evidence driven detective, he also believed in checking his gut about his suspects. Nothing this man was saying so far was setting off any alarm bells; but he also had to remember the murderer prided himself on pretending.
He sat forward, signalling a change in tone. ‘Mr Jackson, I’m asking all my interviewees for their movements to help me exclude them.’
Jago’s forehead lines deepened. ‘You’re looking at me as a suspect?’
Leo thought it best not to get into that. ‘It would help us if you could tell us where you were exactly on Sunday evening between six and eight; Thursday between eleven and one during the day; Sunday again between six and eight; and yesterday between five and six p.m.’
Jago rolled his shoulders, uneasy now. ‘That’s a lot to remember. Hang on. Let me see. The first one is the one when the bursar was found here, isn’t it? I’ve already told the officer who took my statement: I was in my rooms in college and then went for a run along the river.’
Leo nodded. They’d checked that out first. There was no corroboration of this, no cameras on his riverside route.
‘What happened last Thursday?’ Jago asked.
They were keeping the details of the appearances of the murderer out of the public domain as far as possible. The press knew they had happened but neither witness was giving interviews. ‘If you could just answer the question.’
‘I guess I was in the library. The librarian might remember. I have a favourite seat in the Radcliffe Camera.’
They’d checked that already too. Jago sat in one of the aisles of the circular building, out of sight of the librarian’s desk. She said she recalled seeing him a lot over the last few days but wasn’t sure of exact hours.
Jago tapped his fingers on his knee. ‘I know where I was on Sunday. That was the day the poor couple were found at the boatyard. I was at home, reading and making notes. I rang Jess. She’ll be able to confirm that I made a call at that time.’
But not where he was when he rang her. ‘And the last one? Yesterday?’
‘Christ, I don’t know. What was it? Five? On the way home from the library, I guess. I don’t lead a very exciting life, Inspector, particularly not at the moment.’ Jago paused as he thought back over what he had said. ‘I don’t have an alibi, do I?’
Leo said nothing.
‘If I were this killer, I think I would’ve planned better to at least make it look like I wasn’t anywhere near the kill zones.’
Maybe.
‘You can’t believe that I’m responsible for this?’ A panicked note edged into Jago’s voice.
‘Why not?’
Jago got up, his emotion too strong to keep seated. ‘Because I love these places! I wouldn’t defile them with this stupid crime!’
‘Stupid?’
‘Yes! Murder is asinine – a crude proof that you were momentarily stronger than someone else. But it is ugly and brutal – it spoils the place for others, making them think dark thoughts when they should be enjoying the amazing gifts nature has given us.’ He swung round to face Leo. ‘I hate this person, whoever they are, hate him for spoiling all this for me and for others. And if he’s using my work to pick his locations, then I hate him all the more for perverting my hard work like that!’
His indignation sounded genuine to Leo. ‘If you were this man—’
Jago opened his mouth to object.
Leo held up a hand. ‘I’m not saying you are, but try to think like him for a moment. If you were this man, where would you strike next?’
Jago deflated, sitting back down beside Leo and dropping his head into his hands. ‘I don’t know, Inspector. Look at the river.’ He swept his hand to the Cherwell. ‘There’s all this and the Thames too, not to mention the reservoirs and lakes that allow swimming. Pick your poison – there are hundreds of possible places along the banks.’
That was very much what Leo feared.