The Ringmaster

by Vanda Symon

  ‘Shit. Okay, understood. We’ll have back-up on the way as soon as a possible. Take care, keep us updated.’

  I needed a firearm and a vehicle. The latter was sorted by the fact, to my relief, I saw there was a fleet car available. I grabbed the keys and headed down the stairs to the Watch House. I hoped like hell the senior sergeant on duty was cooperative.

  ‘Dan, there’s a situation. I need a firearm. Now.’

  ‘If you’re referring to the school, you’re a bit late. Everyone’s gone out there.’

  ‘School? What are you talking about? No. I know who the killer is and he might have a hostage. I have to go now.’

  ‘Slow down, what killer?’

  ‘Operation Sparrow. The killer is Phillip Kershaw, he’s…’

  The telephonist ran in, ‘We’ve got another call-in, hostage situation.’

  ‘That would have been me,’ I said. ‘This man could have a hostage, he’s armed, there’s no one else around, I need a firearm, I have to get up there now.’

  ‘Wait a moment. Jesus, what’s going on today?’ He went to talk to Marg, the telephonist.

  ‘For fuck’s sake, just get me a bloody gun,’ I yelled. ‘The bastard’s got my mother.’

  Dan swung around. ‘What?’

  ‘The bastard has got my mother, so fuck procedure, I need a gun and I need it now.’

  ‘Jesus,’ he said. ‘Why didn’t you say so? Knock yourself out, I’ll see what back-up I can scrounge. We’re so bloody thin on the ground with the homicides and the AOS call-out to the school.’ He opened the gun locker for me.

  I grabbed a Glock pistol and ammo, thought better of it and grabbed two. I looked at the Bushmaster, but thought it too obvious. The Glocks I could hide on my person, but not the rifle. Body armour was pointless. Too big for me by far, and I had a feeling charging in guns blazing wasn’t going to work here. Mum hadn’t rung yet. If we got through this in one piece, I was going to buy that woman a cellphone.

  I needed to be clever here, outsmart him, use the element of surprise. It looked like I was in this alone. No, not quite alone. I pulled out my cell and dialled Paul. It went straight to voicemail again.

  ‘Paul, it’s Sam. We thought the wrong fucking academic. Our killer is Uncle Phil. I’m armed and going up to the house. He’s there with my mum. AOS is tied up and back-up could be slow. Please, if you can get there, get there.’

  I hung up the call as I ran for the parking garage.

  Come on Paul, check your messages.

  66

  As usual no bloody place for my car, so I pulled into a neighbour’s driveway. What was the worst they could do? Ring the police? There had been no phone call from Mum and her old Rover was parked twenty metres away from where I sat. I didn’t want to think about what that could mean. Hopefully, just that she was being belligerent and not doing as I asked out of some warped principle. She was quite capable of that level of pig-headedness. The double garage door was closed, so I didn’t know if Phil’s or Aunt Jude’s car was in there. I made the assumption that Jude was still out and Mum was still in with that murdering bastard. There were no audible sirens approaching, no Charge of the Light Brigade.

  I was on my own.

  The panic I had felt earlier had been displaced by anger. I listened to the satisfying click as I pulled back the slide and chambered a round in each of the Glocks, and then slid them into the back of my trousers, butts facing outermost. My jacket was loose fitting and would hopefully hide any telltale bulges. I was prepared to risk shooting my bum off in exchange for the ease of access and time saved. I had a feeling I might need it.

  I took a deep breath, put on my very best fifth-form drama-class nonchalance and walked to the front door.

  There were no discernible voices from inside the house. I slid my key into the lock and entered the lion’s den. I pushed the door closed, but not fast behind me.

  ‘Hi de hi,’ I called out. ‘Anybody home? Dopey me forgot my gym clothes.’ I was greeted at the door by Fluffy, who smooched around my legs, then by a voice.

  ‘Hi, Sam, we’re in the kitchen.’ The voice was Phil’s. I walked as casually as I could down the hallway and stepped across the threshold.

  Two sets of eyes looked at me, but only one person could do the talking. Mum was seated at the table. I took in the details in an instant. She was cable tied by each hand to the chair back. The familiar silver duct tape slashed across her mouth. Terror and desperate pleading screamed out from her eyes. Phil was standing behind her, at the head of the table. His left hand was cupped under her chin, the right held the serrated carver knife to her throat. He held it with enough pressure to create a row of claret dashes, where the tips cut into her skin.

  I felt the bitter weight of hatred settle on to the seething in my stomach. I lifted my eyes from my mother’s to the killer’s.

  ‘Sam, you disappoint me. You’ll have to try harder than that. I didn’t come down in the last shower.’

  My ears detected the crackle of a police radio scanner. Jesus, he knew exactly what I was up to.

  ‘Yes,’ he said, leaning his head towards the set on the bench. ‘I know you’ve come armed, and I know you’ve got no back-up. It’s amazing how many officers they’ll send off when you ring in and tell them you saw a couple of students with lots of guns heading into a high school, nowadays. One thing we’ve got to thank the Americans for.’ The smile that I had once found charming took on a sinister bent. ‘Your guys have taken the bait beautifully. In fact, I’ve become quite fond of toying with you. It’s all too easy. Anyway, enough of this. Time’s short. I don’t need to mention what’s at stake here, do I?’

  He gave Mum’s head a little shake and I watched her flinch as the serrated tips dug in a little more.

  ‘Now be a good girl and slowly remove your weapon.’

  I couldn’t move straight away. Instead my eyes kept drawing to the necklace of beaded blood drops growing at Mum’s throat.

  ‘Come on, Sam, don’t waste my time. I know you’re armed. Be a good girl and hand over the gun.’

  I carefully reached around with my left hand and pulled a pistol out of my trousers, holding it out to the side for Phil to see.

  ‘Now put it down on the table, and step away.’

  I was buggered if I was going to leave him with a weapon to shoot me with, if he didn’t already have one of his own. As I leaned over to put it on the table, I slid my finger on to the button by the trigger guard and pressed.

  The magazine fell to the tiled floor with a sharp clack that made everyone jump.

  ‘Humph,’ he snorted. ‘Clever girl. Now why don’t you take a seat down that end, there’s room at the table.’

  ‘No thank you, I’d rather stand.’

  Phil’s eyebrows shot up, but then he laughed and said, ‘Suit yourself, you’ll get a better view from there, anyway.’ For someone who’d obviously been found out, he seemed extraordinarily pleased with himself.

  ‘I was a bit worried you’d make the connection between the little creep that had been pestering you and the extra body. I hope you didn’t mind me taking care of that. I get a bit pissed off when people mess with my family and that was quite a pleasant indulgence, actually. Did you like the way I made it look like a robbery?’ My fondness for Uncle Phil had evaporated. His previously well-hidden arrogance and condescension were now on display for all to see. ‘But it’s all worked out for the best anyway, don’t you think? I was starting to tire of my little game. Time to move on to other sport, and it looks like this will be a great way to make a parting statement. Although, it’s been such fun watching you chase your tails. Thank you for that, Sam, you’ve been so handy.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘I’ve had a front-row seat. It’s been quite enlightening, really. I always suspected you police were pretty average, but this has been something else. You should consider a career change. You’re not that good at this detecting business. You couldn’t even detect what was under yo
ur nose, not that it will be an issue any more. I must say though, young Maggie was a surprise. She’s got a bit of promise. Great profile by the way, pretty accurate.’

  ‘Have you been listening to us?’ I asked, incredulous. Here I’d been so careful not to divulge any confidential information to them, but he’d been listening in all along. He’d heard my talk with Maggie, and shit, with Paul?

  ‘It’s a modern age. You can get wireless anything nowadays. Wireless camera and microphones; espionage has been made very accessible and easy. All I needed was the Internet and a credit card and it was delivered to the door. See – wave to the camera,’ he said and looked up at the light fitting over the table. I was damned if I could see anything.

  ‘You’re very nice naked, by the way,’ he said, and gave me a wink. I felt a wave of revulsion shudder through my body.

  ‘Enough of the talking. It’s time for business. It won’t be long before they find someone spare to throw a gun at and send up here, and by then I will be long gone.’

  My options were looking pretty scant. If I drew my gun, Mum’s throat would be sliced before I could get a round off. What I needed was to get that knife away from her throat, even for a moment.

  A brief flicker of movement caught in my peripheral vision, out of Phil’s view. I didn’t dare move my eyes to follow it. Instead, I made sure Phil’s attention was on me. I knew it wasn’t the cat – Fluffy was here in the kitchen, oblivious to the threat, chinny-winnying my leg, so I prayed like hell its source was who I hoped it could be. Time. I needed to buy some time.

  I let my shoulders slump and tried to feign defeat. ‘Who is all this in aid of?’ I asked. ‘What was the point of it?’

  He chuckled again, looking so well pleased with himself. ‘Me, of course. I had to have some sport. Life had gotten a bit dull since the girls left home, and Jude, who had promised me we’d have time for each other to enjoy once they left the nest, decided to take up every bleeding-heart cause under the sun. I was forced to find other things to do. The student was very sweet, by the way; that kept me quite busy for a while. But she wanted more – they always do. It was almost sad to have to kill her. I got far more attention from her than I ever did from my wife.’

  Somehow, I wasn’t feeling sympathetic.

  ‘You want to know the huge irony in all this?’ His eyes drew heavenwards, as if seeking strength. ‘The little diversion I’d set up in Mosgiel, the meticulous planning for today, the down-to-the-minute timing – it was all for her benefit, so I could finally and emphatically let her know exactly how hurt I was by her neglect. She was going to pay, pay for putting everyone and everything ahead of me, and I was going to be free to do as I pleased, the poor widower, rocked by the disappearance and murder of his wife. I was going to get to start afresh without being shackled to her so-called civic-mindedness. I’d finally be seen as Phillip Kershaw, renowned academic and forward thinker, not forever introduced to all and sundry as Jude’s husband, or the twins’ father. And do you know what happened?’

  His voice had been pitching higher and higher, as his controlled façade crumbled away. ‘She rang earlier and cancelled our lunch date, killed the whole thing, all that I had put in place. And do you know why?’ He paused as if expecting a response.

  I shook my head.

  ‘I still can’t believe this.’ He laughed, a scoffing, acidic sound. ‘She ditched me to go and “give comfort”,’ he said, in an almost perfect imitation of her voice, ‘to refugees from your fucking circus.’ In his exasperation, he’d moved the knife away from Mum’s throat and was using it like a conductor’s baton, beating out the time of his words.

  My eyes followed the blade away from the throat.

  My right hand edged around my back.

  In a split second my mind did the calculation. Could I? Was there enough time?

  Fuck, it was a risk.

  A bang, bang, bang on the outside kitchen door shattered the silence.

  Phil’s head swung around, reflexively drawn to the source of the noise. It was all the distraction I needed. Before he had a chance to turn back I had the other Glock out, raised my arm, sighted and squeezed away two rounds over the top of Mum’s head into his right shoulder.

  The blasts concussed in the closed space, and in the aftermath, my hearing took on a muted, underwater quality and everything moved in slow motion. Phil’s face registered utter surprise as the knife tumbled from his now useless hand. A ruby rose bloomed at his shoulder and he staggered back into the refrigerator before sliding in a big smear of his own blood, down to the ground. I strode around the table, my eyes focused only on that man, that monster. I heard the sound of shattering glass and the scraping of chair legs and Paul’s voice yelling out my name. I reached Phil in four quick steps, and straddled him, gun outstretched.

  I placed the muzzle flush against the skin of his forehead.

  ‘How dare you, you fucking arsehole.’ My words reverberated around the silence of the room. ‘How fucking dare you.’

  My index finger twitched as I looked into Phil’s shocked eyes and by God, it felt like it would be so easy to squeeze that trigger. So easy to destroy this creature, so very much easier than it had been with the last one.

  ‘Sam?’ Paul’s gentle voice broke my focus. My eyes flicked momentarily to the hand that he now carefully laid on my shoulder.

  I breathed out, hard and heavy and my eyes moved back to the creature in front of me. It was pitiful.

  I let my arms drop slightly, gun now pointed at Phil’s chest, and stepped back, suddenly conscious of the thudding of my heart, the acid in my gut, the tremor of my hands.

  ‘Check him for weapons,’ I said to Paul. After a quick pat down Paul held up, then unloaded a Glock 17, retrieved from Phil’s jacket. As suspected, he’d been prepared – he’d intended to continue his deadly blood sport.

  My gaze flicked behind me to my mother, who had shuffled her chair around and now sat, bound, eyes scrunched shut and shoulders heaving with each sob. I felt devastated she’d been caught up in all this, an unwitting substitute in a sick man’s game.

  I returned my focus back to the feeble, wimpering creature in front of me. So much heartbreak and devastation had been wrecked by this warped, sick man, and again I battled the wave of searing anger. It would be so easy to … but, justice needed to be served. I breathed out, finally relaxed my stance and dropped my arms down to my side. Then with as much venom as I could muster, I spat out the simple truth. ‘You’re not worth it, you piece of shit.’

  Epilogue

  ‘Are you okay?’

  ‘Yeah, I am,’ I said, without lie.

  ‘This has all been one hell of a roller coaster ride.’

  ‘You’re not wrong there.’ Life had seemed so beautifully humdrum up until a month ago. My biggest concern had been an arsehole boss and which café served up the best coffee. Now everything in it had been inverted, shaken, twisted and squeezed.

  ‘Do you wish you’d killed him?’

  I risked the honest answer. ‘Yes.’ I let the weight of my reply hang a few moments, before qualifying it. ‘My heart wishes I’d killed him, but my head knows it made the right decision. My head doesn’t always win those battles.’

  I heard a gentle chuckle.

  There was a long, comfortable silence. I replayed some of the scenes in my mind. Although still vivid, they did not feel as raw.

  ‘How’s your mum now? How’s she taken it all?’

  ‘Grumpily, which means she’s fine. If she went all quiet and didn’t complain, then I’d be worried. But, she’s business as usual, giving me grief.’ For once, the old bat giving me a hard time made me very happy.

  ‘What about the hierarchy? Have they got their killer figured out? What do the psych people think?’

  ‘They’re rather perplexed, as so much of what he did goes against conventional wisdom. He wasn’t your stereotypical psychopathic serial killer. He made a deliberate and almost academic decision to commit these crimes. Wh
at kind of person could do that? I think they’re looking too hard.’

  ‘Why? What’s your theory, given your high-powered background in forensic psychiatry? Enlighten me.’

  I smiled, enjoying the ribbing. ‘Empty-nest syndrome gone feral. He did it to see if he could.’

  ‘That’s an interesting and original idea. Have you mentioned it to your superiors?’

  ‘No, they’d laugh at me. Too simple.’

  ‘You or the idea?’

  I gave a strategic squeeze that resulted in a yelp.

  ‘Alright, sorry, I concede, you win.’

  ‘Good to know you appreciate when you’re in a vulnerable position’

  ‘Wouldn’t want it any other way,’ Paul said, and snuggled in closer against my bare skin.

  I smiled; a relaxed, reservation-free and contented smile. Many things had changed.

  Who’d have thought?

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Vanda Symon (born 1969) is a crime writer, TV presenter and radio host from Dunedin, New Zealand, and the chair of the Otago Southland branch of the New Zealand Society of Authors. The Sam Shephard series has hit number one on the New Zealand bestseller list, and also been shortlisted for the Ngaio Marsh Award for best crime novel. She currently lives in Dunedin, with her husband and two sons.

  Follow Vanda on Twitter @vandasymon and visit her website: vandasymon.com.

  Copyright

  Orenda Books

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  First published in New Zealand by Penguin Books (NZ) in 2008

  This edition first published in the United Kingdom by Orenda Books 2019

  Copyright © Vanda Symon 2019

  Vanda Symon has asserted her moral right to be identified as the author of this work in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act, 1988.

  All Rights Reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced in any form or by any means without the written permission of the publishers.