Silent in the Grave (9781311028495)
Page 30
‘But she’s sending . . . Here they are now.’ He picked up the sheets of paper from the fax tray and passed them to him. ‘Magee’s details.’
‘Thank you, Mr Mayfield. I’m quite sure you’re gonna move on up.’
‘You couldn’t help yourself, could you?’
‘Sorry. The temptation was too great.’ He stood up. ‘I’ll see you at six-thirty in the morning.’
Once he was sitting in his car he glanced at Magee’s details. His home address was in Clacton-on-Sea. He wasn’t driving over there at this time of night – it would have to wait until the morning.
He pulled out of the car park and headed home.
***
‘Come on, Richards.’
‘I’ve only just got into bed.’
‘It’s five o’clock.’
‘Are you crazy?’
‘Do you want to be a detective, or not?’
‘Not. Switch the light off on your way out.’
‘I noticed that they had a vacancy for a shelf-stacker at the supermarket while I was there.’
‘I’m sleeping now, but I’ll apply for that position later.’
He switched the light out, closed the door and went downstairs to make himself a coffee.
Richards joined him ten minutes later and flopped down on a chair. ‘It’s Saturday.’
‘You’d like a job where you got weekends off and worked nine to five?’
‘That would be good.’
‘Right, let’s go.’
‘I need . . .’
‘You should have got out of bed when I called. Now, it’s too late to need anything.’ He pushed her towards the front door.
‘But . . .’
‘Yesterday you were moaning that I was investigating the case without you . . .’
‘Maybe I was a bit hasty.’
They arrived at Marin’s in Wormley at six twenty-five and Mr Mayfield presented them to the staff.
‘We’re looking for a slimy greaseball who worked here three months ago and pestered Holly Vincent.’
A couple of the young women looked at each other and one of them said, ‘That’ll be Mr Magee. You remember Mr Mayfield. He stood in for you while you was in hospital getting your brain removed.’
There was a ripple of laughter.
‘Thank you, Cheryl.’
A few more of the staff nodded.
One of the older women said, ‘Yeah, a slimy greaseball – that about describes him. He used to look at some of the girls in a funny way . . . like he wanted to do things to them.’
‘What type of things, Mavis?’
‘You know – things.’
‘Come on, Mavis. It’s not like you to be shy.’
More laughter.
‘You all know exactly what things I mean.’
The consensus was that the slimy greaseball in question was Stanley Magee.
‘Thank you all for your help,’ Parish said.
In the car, they headed towards Clacton-on-Sea.
‘It’s him, isn’t it, Sir?’
‘We have no evidence it’s him.’
‘But we’ll get some.’
‘He might not be there.’
‘He’ll be there.’
‘What makes you so sure?’
‘He wants to get caught. He’s gone to a lot of trouble to do something different. Now, he’ll be famous. He’ll be waiting for us.’
‘You need to get a life, Richards.’
‘I have a life. I have a wonderful life with you, mum, Digby and Jack.’
‘What about Toadstone and the Chief?’
‘I have some good friends.’
‘You haven’t got a man.’
‘Men are two a penny. I’ll get a man who’ll love me for me one day.’
‘Are you sure?’
‘I’m sure.’
‘You can go to sleep now.’
‘You’re too kind.’
‘I know.’
‘Are you going to sign off on my promotion to Detective Constable now?’
‘I did that a month ago.’
‘You’re a pig.’
‘A very kind pig.’
Aftermath
Richards was right, Stanley Magee was waiting for them. He confessed as soon as they challenged him, held out his wrists for the handcuffs and couldn’t wait to tell his tale. The one thing he wouldn’t say when they interviewed him was where all the bodies were buried.
‘There’s twenty of them, you know.’
‘Twenty?’ Richards said, shock etched on her face.
He laughed. ‘I thought that would surprise you. Twenty seemed a good number for the body hunt. Found them all at Marin’s, you know. They rejected me, but not for long. Did you see what I did to them after I’d slit their throats? Yeah, that was so good . . .’
‘I can’t listen to this garbage anymore,’ Richards said, and walked out of the interview room.
Neither could Parish.
He had all the evidence he needed to make sure Magee never saw the light of day, the psychiatrist could interview him and catalogue the details of his crimes. He despatched Magee to Broadmoor for psychiatric assessment, and he was deemed unfit to stand trial.
***
Sunday, May 29
Constable Bethany Nail sneaked out of Shrub End Police Station for a quick puff on the cigarette she’d been saving all night. It was twenty-five to twelve and as quiet as a nun’s bedsprings. She guessed anyone who was anyone was already tucked up in bed in preparation for the onslaught of Monday morning.
She shuffled round the side of the front entrance – into the shadows – lit her cigarette, sucked in enough smoke to knock out a charging rhinoceros, held it for what seemed like the age of the universe and slowly let it escape.
God – it was so good. She wondered if it could be compared to an orgasm. Not that she’d had . . . She held the filter to her lips, and was just about to replenish her nicotine reserves when she heard moaning.
‘Hello?’
Nothing.
‘Who’s there?’
More moaning – barely audible. It sounded female, or was it an animal? She couldn’t see a damned thing without her torch.
She held up her lighter.
Not far along the wall from where she was standing was a body with a sack over its head.
She ran inside the station.
‘Quick,’ she shouted at Ray Short – the civilian manning the desk. ‘Bring a torch.’
He followed her out, and together they removed the hood and a gag underneath.
The person was hardly recognisable.
‘Christ, it’s DC Koll.’
‘Is she still alive?’ Short asked.
‘Just. Quick, ring for an ambulance.’
He stood up.
‘And leave the torch.’
‘Oh yeah.’
Bethany removed the rope at Koll’s wrists and ankles, but she didn’t know whether to move her.
Short appeared. ‘On its way.’
‘Good. Bring a blanket and some water.’
He nodded.
***
Friday, June 9
‘Hello, Jenifer,’ Stick said as he walked out of the small pedestrian gate at Chelmsford prison.
Jenifer burst into tears. ‘I thought I’d never see you again, Rowley.’
‘I know. I had my doubts as well, Jen.’
They hugged.
‘Where’s Xena?’
‘She’s still in hospital.’
‘Still?’
‘I’ll tell you about it on the way home.’
####
About the Author
Tim Ellis was born in the bowels of Hammersmith Hospital, London, on a dark and stormy night, grew up in Cheadle, Cheshire, and now lives in Essex with his wife and four Shitzus. In-between, he joined the Royal Army Medical Corps at eighteen and completed twenty-two years service, leaving in 1993 having achieved the rank of Warrant Officer Class 1 (Regimental Sergeant Major).
Since then he has worked in secondary education as a senior financial manager, in higher education as an associate lecturer/tutor at Lincoln and Anglia Ruskin Universities, and as a consultant for the National College of School Leadership. His final job, before retiring to write fiction full time in 2009, was as Head and teacher of Behavioural Sciences (Psychology/Sociology) in a secondary school. He has a PhD and an MBA in Educational Management, and an MA in Education.
Discover other titles by Tim Ellis at http://timellis.weebly.com/
Also, come and say hello on his FB Fanpage:
http://www.facebook.com/#!/pages/Tim-Ellis/160147187372482
Genghis Khan
Warrior: Path of Destiny
Warrior: Scourge of the Steppe
The Knowledge of Time
Second Civilisation
Orc Quest
Book I: Prophecy
Harte & KP
Solomon’s Key
Parish & Richards
A Life for a Life
The Wages of Sin
The Flesh is Weak
The Shadow of Death
His Wrath is Come
The Breath of Life
The Dead Know Not
Be Not Afraid
The House of Mourning
Through a Glass Darkly
A Lamb to the Slaughter
Silent in the Grave
Quigg
The Twelve Murders of Christmas
Body 13
The Graves at Angel Brook
The Skulls Beneath Eternity Wharf
The Terror at Grisly Park
The Haunting of Bleeding Heart Yard
The Enigma of Apocalypse Heights (Novella)
Tom Gabriel
Footprints of the Dead
Stone & Randall
Jacob’s Ladder
The Gordian Knot
Josiah Dark
Dark Christmas (Novella)
Inigo & Tig
As You Sow, So Shall You Reap (Novella)
Collected Short Stories/Poetry/Anthologies/Non-fiction
Untended Treasures
Where do you want to go today?
Winter of my Heart (Poetry)
With Love Project – The Occupier
The Killing Sands (Anthology)
Raga Man (Short Story)
The Writer’s A-Z of Body Language (Non-fiction)
Summer of my Soul (Poetry)
Also planned for 2014/2015:
The Measure of all Things (Novella)
Mortis Obscura: Scavenger of Souls (Farthing & Trask 1)
The Timekeeper's Apprentice
The Crime Writer’s A-Z of Forensics (Non-fiction)
In the Twinkling of an Eye (Parish & Richards 13)
A Time to Kill (Parish & Richards 14)
Deceit is in the Heart (Parish & Richards 15)
Orc Quest Book II: The Last Human
Whispers of the Dead (Tom Gabriel 2)
The Sword of Damocles (Stone & Randall 3)
The Song of Solomon (Harte & KP 2)
Dark Matter (Josiah Dark 2)
The Corpse at Highgate Cemetery (Quigg 8)