Elliott laughed. “Well, that’s another reason we shouldn’t take her too seriously.”
A phone rang somewhere in the crowded room. Pattie wiped her forehead with her handkerchief. It was very hot in the room because there were so many bodies. Elliott went to fetch her a glass of water. He was such a considerate man. He seemed to really care about every aspect of her life and wellbeing. She couldn’t have been luckier in this time of stress and uncertainty. Pattie had always felt confident about her independence, relishing it, in fact. But lately she had been feeling pangs of loneliness whenever she was in the house by herself, no matter whether Simba or Harlequin or any of the other cats were keeping her company. This was human loneliness, and it ached.
She was about to strike up a conversation with one of the witnesses, who seemed extremely anxious, when a shout rang out from the front of the room. It was Laura Conrad: it had been her phone that was ringing. Now she stood ramrod straight with the mobile to one ear and her finger plugging the other, scowling at the floor. The shout had been loud enough to startle the room to silence. She walked over to Juliette and tapped the ‘speaker’ button on her phone so that they could hear the caller. And, of course, the rest of the room could hear as well.
“—Disappointed that you’re in hiding, Miss Conrad. We had such good rapport when you came to visit me in prison. I would have loved to return the favor and visit you at your home.”
Pattie shivered to hear the voice. It was the voice of John Crowley. She had last heard it almost five years ago, in the court session that had given him his consecutive life sentences for multiple murders. The man had haunted the whole town of Yorkshire for years, and now he would be safely behind bars … Or so Pattie had thought.
“Mister Crowley, this is Detective Constable Juliette Palmer, of the North Yorkshire Police,” Juliette said firmly into the phone. “You are a wanted fugitive. Turn yourself in.”
“Why would I ever do that?” replied the deep, gruff voice from the phone. “I only just got to work a couple of days ago, and there’s a lot that I have to do before I can rest again. I will have to decline your suggestion.”
“Crowley, you’re wanted for the murders of Edith Lane and Detective Constable Thomas Downey,” Laura Conrad said. “What do you have to say for yourself?”
“Only that they deserved it.”
“Turn yourself in now if you want to avoid any unpleasantness,” Juliette warned, reaching for the phone, but Laura pulled it away from her. She could see that Juliette was about to lose her cool.
Laura said, “John, you called me, so talk to me. Is there anything that you want the public to know?”
“Yes, Laura. You can send out a message for me. Every man, woman, child and furry little cat in Little Hamilton is put on notice. No-one is safe until Detective Andrew Lansbury turns himself over, to pay for his crimes against me.”
Laura Conrad shivered. “John, there was already an investigation into Detective Lansbury’s unlawful conviction. It was found that there was never any sign of falsified evidence against you. You were rightly convicted. What is your response?”
“I know the truth! Detective Lansbury is a filthy liar!” screeched the voice on the phone. “He’s an animal and he’s going to die like an animal, just as soon as he shows his face. Until he does, I would suggest that no-one goes out for a stroll by themselves. There’s a predator on the loose, and he’s very, very hungry.”
Then the phone went dead.
Chapter Twelve
Laura stared at the silence mobile in her hand for a moment, as though trying to speak. Then she slowly put it into her trouser pocket and turned to Juliette Palmer. “So, what do we do?”
“First I’m going to try to contact the Chief. He’s supposed to be on holiday in Devon, but I haven’t been able to reach him. In the meantime, we’re going to keep everybody here safe as we launch an investigation into Crowley’s whereabouts. He’s obviously in Little Hamilton, and there can’t be many places to hide.”
“No, there’s not,” said Andrew, standing and walking towards Juliette from across the office. “Not if you limit yourself to the village boundary. Presumably he’s not staying at the Rosswell’s B&B on Shepherd’s Street, if it’s still there, and we never had any indication that he personally knew anybody in Little Hamilton. He was born and raised in York, and his allies are all there, not here. But we can’t rule out that he’s holed up with someone who doesn’t know who he really is. The first place to check is Edith Lane’s house. She lived alone and he may be taking advantage of the empty building to hide. But I suspect that he isn’t in the village at all, which makes things a little more difficult for us.”
“What makes you say that?” asked Juliette wearily. The conversation with Crowley seemed to have sapped all the energy from her.
“The murders took place in the valley. I’ll bet he’s found somewhere nearby to sleep and hide, outside the village boundary. There are decrepit buildings in the woodland by the river – we should check there. There’s the mine in the hillside past Cliffton Cottage, which was closed in the 80’s. We should send some officers to take a look there, too. And we should set up a two-mile perimeter on the roads, and search the moorland within that circumference. He won’t be any further away than that. He needs to be close enough to observe his victims.”
Pattie was watching her son with admiration. He had insightfully deduced the killer’s likely hiding places apparently in the time it took for the reporter to put her phone back into her pocket. He seemed to have some of his confidence back, that old Andrew who was the region’s star detective for so many years, practically a celebrity until the unfortunate scandal. Something about the situation had put the life back into him.
An explosion of sound filled the office. Pattie lurched forward as broken glass burst against the back of her head and over her shoulders. Several of the people in the room screamed at the sudden blast of noise: a gunshot, shattering the window behind Pattie. Juliette and Andrew were shouting for everybody to get away from the window; other officers rushed forward to pull Pattie and some others away from the danger zone.
Another gunshot rang out, this time smacking into a desk near the window and sending up a geyser of tiny wood shards and paper.
“Get back!” Juliette shouted. “Everyone get away from the window, now!”
In seconds the back of the room was clear of people, but littered with spilled paperwork and broken glass. Thin Venetian blinds rattled in the wind that blew through the shattered window, which came with the rustling of nearby trees and sound of traffic.
In the ensuing quiet, Pattie heard Juliette talking into her radio: “The Shepherd’s Street station is under fire – Repeat: the Shepherd’s Street police station is under fire. I need armed officers on the scene as soon as possible. Please confirm, over.”
Elliott was at Pattie’s side the second that the glass stopped tinkling. “Are you alright, darling? Are you hurt?”
“I’m fine, Elliott, dear. Thank you. Are you okay?”
“Just fine, don’t you worry about me. I don’t know what I’d do if you got hurt!”
“Oh, Elliott…”
Andrew approached where they were sitting on the floor, their backs against a desk. He squatted so that they were at eye-level. “Mum, when Crowley called he hid his number, so we can’t call him back. I’ve taken Laura’s phone in case he calls again, and I’m going to go outside to see if I can get his attention and try to talk him out of this.”
“Andrew, no!” Pattie cried.
“Son, he’s a serial killer who’s already murdered two people this week,” Elliott said calmly. “Don’t you think it would be unwise to just walk out there to meet him?”
“I made a mistake putting people in this room,” Andrew said. “Crowley’s M.O. never included guns. He means business and everything he’s done the last few weeks has been to show me that. I can stop this right now if I walk out there.”
“You’ll be killed
in a second, Andrew,” Pattie snapped. “You selfish boy! You can’t possibly think that Crowley is open to reason!”
“He’s not a stupid man, Mum,” Andrew replied. “And it’s not certain death. There’s a chance I can end this today.”
Andrew stood and turned to leave, only to find Juliette Palmer standing in his way. “Lansbury,” she said, “you ruined the reputation of this department, and it’s your fault that Crowley’s here now. But you’re not responsible for the actions of a psychotic killer, and walking out there to get shot won’t solve anything. I’ve called for some back-up from York, and the layout of the street means that Crowley only has a narrow shooting angle; we’re safe at the front of the room, unless he walks right up to that window, in which case there are four coppers in here with long-range tasers ready to take him down the second he shows his face. Going out there is pointless, unless you want to die. Is that what you want?”
The two professionals stared at one another. Andrew was almost two feet taller than Juliette, but somehow Juliette seemed taller at that moment, a pillar of strength. She stared Andrew down in just a few seconds.
“You’re right,” he said quietly, scowling as he looked out the window. “He’s not going to listen to reason. He’s a mad dog.”
“So, what do we do?” asked Elliott.
Juliette passed Elliott and Pattie plastic cups of water from the cooler. “We’ll just have to wait.”
Chapter Thirteen
An hour passed. It was now dark outside, the evening having set in early with the arrival of more rainclouds. The police station was sallow with electronic light.
Although Juliette and the other officers had requested that everyone stay in the office, nature could not be held back. Bathroom breaks were necessary. Elliott accompanied Pattie on one such trip down the corridors on the pretence of searching for a vending machine. The officers had provided sandwiches, but Elliott said that he wanted sugar.
When Pattie came out of the ladies’ room, she found Elliott waiting nearby for her.
“Honestly, dear, you don’t have to chaperone me. I know this station like the back of my hand.”
“I know, Patricia, darling. Could you come here for a moment?”
He stood in a doorway further down the corridor. Pattie approached and they entered a small, carpeted room. It was warm because of a radiator and its modest size, and it had especially low lighting that made it feel very comfortable. It was the police station’s prayer room, used by staff and to comply with prisoners’ religious rights. A bright stained glass window, actually with nothing but a bulb behind it, cast colours into the air.
“Elliott? What are we doing in here?”
“I wanted to talk with you privately,” he confessed. Pattie noticed how uncharacteristically fidgety and nervous he looked.
“Dear, you’re sweating!”
“Well, it’s been forty years since I had to do this, so I’m not sure that I’m prepared … Anyway…”
Then the fifty-nine year old doctor got down on one knee.
Pattie’s heart jumped into her throat. A strange prickling sensation ran up her spine and along her forearms. What on Earth is happening? she asked herself, feeling her eyes going wide.
“Elliott…” she said.
He looked at her with his clear blue eyes, and seemed ten years younger than she’d ever known him. He clasped one of her hands in both of his. “Patricia Lansbury, I’ll keep this brief, since I’m an old man and you’re an old woman, although you don’t look it. Lately I’ve found a hundred reasons why I shouldn’t wait a day longer to do this, and so I’m doing it now.”
“Doctor Knight…!” she gasped.
“Patricia, I enjoy every moment that I spend with you. I’ve never wished for anything more. And although we both have our memories of other lives, I would like us to build new memories, and a new life, together. Patricia, darling, will you marry me?”
Pattie could hardly believe her ears. What was this foolish old man saying to her? “Elliott, we’re both nearly sixty, and widowed. We’ve been by ourselves a long time, and we’re set in our ways. I really don’t think—”
“Forgive me, my dear, but they sound like platitudes,” Elliott interrupted her, grinning. “Don’t be stubborn, Patricia, for once in your life. I know that you feel the same way. Can’t we just choose happiness now? I promise that I’ll treat you well, as I always have.”
Pattie breathed a long sigh, and smiled. “I know you will, Elliott my darling.”
“Is that a yes?”
“It’s a yes, Elliott!”
He jumped up, grinning from ear to ear, and caught her in a fierce embrace that had Pattie laughing. Tears of joy sprang from her eyes.
Then came gunfire – and darkness.
Chapter Fourteen
All the lights in the police station went off at once. Even the bulb behind the stained glass ‘window’ went out, leaving Pattie and Elliott holding each other amidst moody candlelight.
“What’s that?” said Elliott, pulling Pattie towards himself protectively.
“Andrew…”
They rushed out of the small prayer room and into the dark hallways. Elliott knew better than to try to stop Pattie. Even though the hallways were in almost total darkness, Pattie knew them well enough to navigate blindly, until they were at the office they had left.
“Mrs Lansbury! Doctor Knight! Please get into that corner with the others – quickly!”
It was one of the police officers, who was shakily holding what Pattie first took to be a gun, and then realised was a bulky plastic taser. The weapon might have looked like a toy, but its wasp-like colouring was no decoy: the electronic shock weapons were nothing to sneer at, even if they were non-lethal. But the North Yorkshire Police Department was no different to any other police force in Britain, and could only carry arms against a known armed threat. The Little Hamilton station didn’t even have a gun cabinet.
“Where’s Andrew?” Pattie called, crouching in the dark corner where several tables had been pushed aside to form a bunker.
The officer called back, “He’s at the front of the building with Constable Brant. We’re under siege!”
“Under siege?” yelled Elliott. “How many of them are there?”
“It could be just the one guy, but until we can fight our way outside there’s no way to know for sure. He’s got the drop on us though and the Tasers don’t have the range his rifle has.”
“Where’s D.C. Palmer?” asked Pattie.
“She went across the building a few minutes ago, said she needed a cigarette. We told her not to go but she wasn’t having any of it.”
The officer was unlocking a cabinet and pulling out a bulletproof vest. Pattie rubbed a deep ache that had developed in the back of her neck. “Odd…”
“What’s odd?” asked Elliott.
“I didn’t know Juliette smoked.”
There was another gunshot. This was much louder than the last: it had been fired through the already-broken window of the office. The constable who had been putting on a bulletproof vest took the bullet in the arm and spun around, dropping the jacket and his stun-gun Taser. He would have knocked Pattie over had Elliott not been there to catch her. When Pattie looked up, she saw a shadowed, contorted face in the window: deeply lined and scowling, with eyes glinting out of the low light. There was a deep scar across his bottom lip, and another around his eye. Long wavy hair framed his angry face. Pattie knew that face.
It was the face of a killer: John ‘Doberman’ Crowley.
She acted on instinct. The Taser had clattered near her feet, and she grabbed it with both hands. The trigger clicked like a button under the pressure of her finger, and sparks flew from the front of the gun as electrodes shot forth. Prongs, attached to lightweight wires, launched across the room and dug into Crowley’s surprised cheek. A powerful electric charge crackled down the line and sent his entire body into spasm.
Pattie kept her finger on the trigger unt
il the charge was depleted. It was only five or six seconds, but it felt like a lifetime. By the time this happened, John Crowley was frothing at the mouth and had thrown himself over the jagged glass windowsill, twitching violently. He had dropped his hunting rifle into the room, and it lay on the floor cracked open.
Elliott gently eased the weapon out of Pattie’s tense hands. “Is he dead…?”
The gunshot officer heaved himself back to his feet. The bullet was lodged deep in his shoulder, which was evidently painful, but this appeared to be the worst of it. He said through gritted teeth, “Nah, unfortunately. But he’s probably made a mess of himself, and after a jolt like that he’ll stay where he is long enough for us to get some cuffs onto him…”
Murder Most Familiar (A Pattie Lansbury Cat Cozy Mystery Series Book 4) Page 8