A Clamour of Rooks (The Birdwatcher Series Book 4)

by European P. Douglas

  “Why does he want you guys to be involved so much?” Delgado asked once Megan had managed to compose herself. Tyler looked at him wondering if in reality he was on team Spalding. Who knew?

  “We don’t know,” Sarah said, “But we do know that he makes the rules and the only way we are going to win is to play his game and find his weak spots.” Tyler looked around the bar just then, he wasn’t interested in who might be there or what was going on, but he wanted to grin a little when she said this.

  Though the others didn’t know, not even Megan as far as Tyler was aware, was that very recently Tyler had gone to see Ellie and had subsequently discovered a weakness Spalding didn’t know he was exposing himself to. It was how Tyler was going to get him.

  “Thing is, though,” Tyler said, turning back to them, “Spalding doesn’t like to play fair.”

  “He puts people in impossible positions and then laughs as they try to get themselves out,” Megan offered. Her own father was dead as a result of such a thing. Delgado looked at them all and shook his head.

  “If even half the stories and rumours about Spalding going around are true, what gain do you think you have going up against him alone?” he asked. He sounded genuinely concerned and not like a man who wanted to chicken out of anything.

  “It’s this or nothing,” Sarah said. “He’s too good at this, he’s been working on this grand plan for over fifteen years and we are that far behind in what he’s doing,” Sarah said, her tone one of entreaty.

  “I don’t know,” Delgado replied. He looked uncertain. “I’m going to have to think about this,” he said getting up from the table.

  “Where are you going?” Sarah asked.

  “Until I know what I'm doing it’s probably best I’m not around to hear what you might say here tonight, I’m going home, and I’ll call to see you in the office tomorrow.” He walked away throwing Megan a pursed lip half smile as he did.

  Tyler got up and went after him.

  “Tyler wait!” Sarah said.

  “I’ll be one second,” Tyler said. He caught up with Delgado at his car in the parking lot.

  “Don’t leave her hanging like this man,” Tyler said. Delgado looked Tyler deep in the eyes and shook his head.

  “I still don’t have one ounce of trust in you Ford,” he said. “Meeting you was the worst thing that ever happened to Sarah and you're dragging her further into shit every time you meet.”

  “What?”

  “I’m looking into you Tyler, and I’m leaving no stone unturned. I was a first-rate detective and I still am. I’m going to find out what you're up to.”

  “You’re completely paranoid,” Tyler said, backing away with his arms out. There was no talking to this guy when it came to himself, Tyler could see.

  “Everyone is paranoid until the proof is there for all to see,” Delgado said and with that parting shot got into his car and drove away. Tyler watched the car for a while as it slowly disappeared up the street. He went back inside where Megan and Sarah were waiting.

  “What did he say?”

  “Nothing more than he said here at the table,” Tyle said. He could see Sarah didn’t quite believe him, but she had the sense to leave any more questions for later on.

  The three of them talked about the letter, about Ellie and again about Megan’s time in captivity trying to find something they had missed. Throughout the evening though, Tyler was distracted by thoughts about Delgado. How intensely was the FBI agent looking into Tyler? Was there a chance he could find anything? In his heart he knew there wasn’t, but he was so addled with his desire to kill growing inside of him that he wasn’t thinking straight.

  He would have to find a way to talk himself out of Delgado being his next victim. But for now, he could think about it all he wanted to.

  Chapter 13

  Delgado wasn’t long home that evening, a beer in his hand and the tv news on before him, when his landline phone rang out shrilly. He looked at it a moment not wanting to answer but thinking it could be Amanda so feeling he better- he still harbored hopes of getting back together despite the lack of desire apparent on her side.

  “Hello?” he answered, doing his best to neither sound nor be hopeful.

  “Agent Delgado, how are you this fine evening?” a voice he did not recognise asked.

  “Who is this?” he asked sitting up straight in his chair.

  “My, my you are very uptight aren’t you,” the voice chuckled.

  “I’m in no mood for jokes, tell me what you want or I’m hanging up and disconnecting the phone!”

  “Well, that’s your right in your own home, but I think you’ll stay on the line. You’re going to want to hear what I have to say.”

  “About what?”

  “About all of the secrets Tyler Ford and Sarah Brightwater have been keeping from the FBI,” the voice said. In his heart Delgado suddenly knew who he was talking to.

  “How did you get this number?” he asked, feeling how weak the question was as he did. Spalding laughed again.

  “After all I’ve done, you ask me how I got hold of a phone number!”

  “What do you want?” Delgado asked. His cheeks were hot with embarrassment and he was glad no one else was on the line right now.

  “How is the investigation into the death of Carson Lemond going?” Spalding asked.

  “They’re still looking for you,” Delgado answered.

  “They never were able to piece together where he was between the CCTV footage in Buffalo and his turning up dead in Baltimore were they?”

  “Are you going to enlighten us?”

  “Yes, as a matter of fact I am.” Spalding sounded like he was really enjoying himself and Delgado grew angered with each syllable he uttered. “He was in Tyler Ford’s house.”

  “What?” This had come as a complete shock to Delgado.

  “Yes, Tyler was hiding him, he believed that Lemond was innocent and it was when Tyler went to a murder scene where Sarah was giving him special access that I took him.”

  “That doesn’t change who killed him?” Delgado said, feelings of protection for Sarah were rising in him.

  “Doesn’t it?” Spalding asked in mock innocence. “It wouldn’t have happened if Tyler had turned him in like a good citizen.”

  “Does Sarah know this?”

  “To be fair to her, she didn’t know at the time. But I’m sure she knows by now; pillow talk is a strange thing after all.” Delgado didn’t like the insinuation and liked even less the feeling, akin to jealousy (though surely it couldn't be that) that rose in him. Was it true? He thought so; it would explain why she let him get so close.

  “You’re just guessing?” Delgado goaded him.

  “Assuming, would be fairer,” Spalding said. “But let’s not get caught up on this, I have other news to tell you.” His voice was rising like a man about to read out a proclamation of independence for a long-oppressed people.

  “And just what is it you expect me to do with all this information you seem so keen to impart to me?” Delgado asked.

  “That would be entirely up to you and your conscience, Agent Delgado.”

  “Why didn’t you just call 911?”

  “This isn’t exactly an emergency; I wouldn’t want to be clogging up the line while some poor gramma is having a heart attack now would I?”

  “Unless you were the one who gave her the heart attack,” Delgado said dryly.

  “Touché,” Spalding conceded. “Anyway, where were we? Ah yes, the next nugget of interest. Did you know that Sarah and Tyler have been in secret communication since the beginning of the ‘John the Baptist’ case? And they have been keeping secrets and information from the official investigations on serial killers ever since?” Delgado felt ill at the thought of this. He didn’t want to believe it, but he knew how much Sarah wanted Spalding and the meeting tonight all went towards proving what he was saying was the truth.

  “Bullshit,” he said but even he could hear how forced it was. A
silence hung there for a few moments and he was thankful Spalding wasn’t mocking him right now.

  “You don’t have to play if you don’t want to,” Spalding said softly. “I’m giving you an out, why don’t you take it?”

  “You think my ratting out Sarah means I’m out of things? Is that what you told Ellie?”

  “Ellie tried to play by her own rules,” Spalding replied calmly. “She is responsible for her fate.”

  “Which is what exactly?”

  “To be determined.”

  “Why do you want Tyler and Sarah arrested? Doesn’t that spoil your game?” Delgado asked.

  “The game changes all the time with the circumstances around it. I thrive on that.”

  “Well, I guess you'll thrive on not knowing what I'm going to do with the information you’re giving me now.”

  “Yes I will, but there is more. Tyler is hiding a little secret of his own.”

  “Which is?”

  “I have to leave something for you to figure out on your own Agent Delgado, I don’t want you getting bored on me.”

  “So what? You’re going to give me a hint?”

  “I don’t know, but I will tell you this, I think Tyler has designs on our little sparrow Sarah. More than she expects.” He said this in the way of a gossipy neighbour and Delgado shook his head and sighed.

  “Okay,” he said, wanting to wrap this up. There were a thousand questions running through his head, but he knew Spalding was too clever to answer any of them. He would just keep on giving him the run around until he got bored with it.

  “Sarah and Tyler kept in touch through throwaway phones Tyler supplied her with. I’ve been in contact with Tyler a few times that I don’t think he’s shared with Sarah. He was there when I killed Lemond. He was the one who escaped after Malick shot at him.” This had never been mentioned to Delgado before and his eyes grew dark at the thought of it. Was it really Tyler Ford’s fault an innocent man was dead? And did Sarah know about it and then let him escape the scene of a murder and keep it a secret?

  “Is that it?” he asked sourly.

  “I think it’s enough to be getting along with,” Spalding said, his tone happy as before. “I know it’s something Bobrick or Daniels would love to hear about.”

  Delgado hesitated a moment and hung up, at least it was one part of the power struggle he could control. He sat there with his eyes closed and his head back in the chair taking in what Spalding had told him. Each moment he was waiting for the phone to ring, but it remained silent. After five minutes of thought he picked up his cell phone and dialled Sarah’s number. It went to her voicemail.

  “Sarah,” he said, “We have to talk.”

  Chapter 14

  Freeman had done as much as he could do with the background checks of the three suspects in his case, or should he say the FBI’s case. None of them had come to the attention of the police before and it looked like up to now they were perfectly ordinary people going about their lives. Academically, at school and college, each of them had been so-so, not causing trouble but not setting the world on fire either. None of them were linked in any way and each of them had lost a friend at the party to murder. The checks into the lives of the victims was turning up pretty much the same.

  A search of all the victims’ and suspects’ homes was undertaken and had turned up nothing of interest until a flyer advertising the ‘Murder Mystery Mansion’ event was found in the trash bin in Tammy’s apartment, which she had shared with her friend Mike.

  The website listed on the flyer was gone, and the number (which was the same one Tammy and the other victims had already given police) was no longer in service. The flyer itself was the only evidence that might be easy to follow up, while the techs tried to gather information about the number and web domain.

  “Detective?” Freeman looked up and saw a young, uniformed officer at the door to the open plan office area. He’d seen her before, but he didn’t know her name. “This came in, a printer saying he might have printed the flyers in the Mansion case.” She stepped to his desk and held out a piece of paper with a name and number written in a neat hand on it.

  “Thanks,” Freeman said, taking it from her. He flashed her an encouraging smile, but he was wondering why this ‘Edmund Grains’ would say he ‘might’ have printed the flyers. Only one way to find out, he thought picking up the phone as the officer went back to her own duties.

  “EG Printing, how can I help you?” a man’s voice answered.

  “Hello, this is Detective Freeman, I’m looking to talk to Mr Grains, please.”

  “Hi Detective, this is Edmund Grains speaking, I’d like you to come down to my store to discuss the matter please.”

  “What matter is that?” Freeman asked.

  “The printed flyers.”

  “Did you print them?”

  “I may have, I can’t discuss it over the phone, can you please come down here?” Freeman leaned back in the chair and sighed with the phone away from his face and then put it back to his ear.

  “What’s the address there Mr Grains?”

  Half an hour later, Freeman pulled up across the street from the small printing shop. He looked up and down the street, taking in the people and the neighborhood as he did. It wasn’t very busy, but it wasn't what could be called quiet either. If the killer really did come to this place in person to get his flyer printed, there would be people on this street who had seen him and would remember him. The shop unit was one of four housed in one block long two storey building, the others being a laundromat, lawyers office and a corner store. The printers store at the opposite end to the corner store and outside a group of older teenagers were horsing around and making noise, tossing insults, and laughing loudly amongst themselves. Freeman had a feeling this was why Grains wanted the police to come right to his door to talk. He probably called the cops everyday about these kids outside his store.

  Freeman got out of the car and crossed the street. Some of the young men looked at him but he ignored them and went on into the store. There were no customers inside and a man, Edmund Grains he assumed, was standing behind the counter.

  “Mr Grains?” Freeman asked, flashing his badge. “I’m Detective Freeman, we spoke on the phone.”

  “Thanks for coming down officer,” Grains said.

  “Detective,” Freeman corrected him.

  “Sorry, Detective,” Grains said, but he was looking past Freeman to the young men outside, clearly agitated at what he saw. “Do you see this?” he pointed.

  “The kids outside?” Freeman asked without turning to look.

  “Yes, every day they are out there, driving away my customers!” He was showing signs of being about to get angry and go into a tirade, so Freeman nodded in an understanding way and said,

  “Excuse me a moment, please.” He turned and walked out of the store and approached the teenagers. As he walked to them, they turned to face him like a wild pack. Freeman had seen this many times before, they were trying to intimidate him.

  “What do you want, old man?” the bravest one asked taking a step closer to Freeman.

  “Why don’t you fella’s go on about your day somewhere else for a while, eh?”

  “You tryin’ to tell us what to do?” Freeman looked around at the group, taking in each one in his sweep. He saw one had a spray can with a black lid on it protruding from one of his pockets. Freeman looked around and saw black graffiti on the walls to the side of the building and also across the lens of a security camera mounted on the corner. He nodded to the spray carrier,

  “Did you do that?” he asked.

  “What if I did?” the young man laughed, and his friends started laughing along with him.

  “That was a mistake,” Freeman said. “Those cameras aren’t just there to protect these premises.” With a force that caught all of them by surprise Freeman lunged at the spray painter, grabbed him by the shirtfront and pulled him up against the wall, slamming his head into a sheet metal door covering
as he did. He pulled his gun with his other hand and showed the rest of the group he was carrying it. They had been about to jump in on their friend's behalf, but at the sight of the gun they backed away.

  “Whoa man, take it easy,” the leader said, no longer brimming with confidence.

  “Now that camera can’t be used, there is no CCTV of me doing this. I could do anything to you right now and there would be nothing you could do about it,” Freeman said. He pulled the guy away from the wall and pushed him back into the folds of his friends. “Now get the hell out of here and don’t let me see you around this building again!” he shouted. He was still holding the gun, but it wasn’t aimed, and the safety was still on.

  “Okay, okay, we were going anyway,” the leader said, and they started to slink away slowly, not wanting to lose all of their face at one go. Freeman put his gun away and walked back to the store. As he was going back he heard a couple of them shouting insults at him. That was the way with chicken shits, they were always shouting from a distance.

  “Now Mr Grains, I did what you wanted now you are going to tell me what I need to know.”

  “Thank you Offic...; I mean, Detective,” Grains said looking out the window at the clear sidewalk.

  “Did you print this flyer?” Freeman showed him the bagged flyer.

  “Yes, I do a lot of flyers for similar events.”

  “All for the same person?”

  “No, this one was a one off I think, at least I didn't remember seeing him before.”

  “Do you have CCTV of the guy from inside the store, or outside?” Freeman asked.

  “I may do, but I’ll have to look.”

  “How many of these things did he get printed? Were they all the exact same?”

  “It was a small run; one hundred and fifty copies is all. They were all the same.”

  “How did he pay?”

  “Cash, and he didn’t take his receipt."

  “Can we have a look at your CCTV now?” Freeman asked. He wasn’t going to get a description of the guy unless there was no image of him.