Peter Diamond - 09 - The Secret Hangman

by Peter Lovesey

  He braked and lowered his window. ‘Anyone gone in?’

  ‘DI Leaman and two RRVs, sir. Take a left by the tyre-fit place and you’ll see them.’

  He drove in and located the other police vehicles parked in front of a carpet outlet. Leaman came to meet him, stooped at the open window and saw Paloma, but didn’t get introduced.

  ‘What do you reckon?’ Diamond asked.

  ‘The book depot is right behind this warehouse, guv. There’s a Shogun Warrior parked outside.’

  ‘That’s his motor.’

  ‘We’ve disabled it.’

  ‘Good. What sort of back-up do we have?’

  ‘A rapid response team. The place is surrounded.’

  ‘Let’s go in. I’m not expecting a shoot-out. He isn’t that kind of animal.’

  He got out and so did Paloma. He asked her to stay well back unless she was needed. Then he walked round the side of the carpet warehouse and saw the Shogun parked in front of a row of three small cabin-style buildings with flat roofs.

  Leaman pointed to the one on the left. The windows were screened with slatted blinds. A light was on.

  Diamond signalled with palms down that he wanted no action from the armed back-up. With Leaman at his side he walked up to the door, looked for a bell-push, found none and rapped with his knuckles.

  No response.

  He eyed Leaman, shrugged, and tried again with more force. Same result.

  ‘It has to be the fifty-pound door key, then.’

  Leaman motioned to one of the men in Kevlar body-armour.

  An enforcer, a police battering ram, was brought over. ‘It’s a crime scene inside,’ Diamond warned. ‘I don’t want you going in like the SAS.’

  The locks must have been stout because three swings were needed to gain entry.

  A foul smell hit them when the door swung inwards. Diamond pressed his hand to his face.

  His way in was blocked by Jerry’s trolley. He had to trundle it to one side, and even then he was faced with a fully stacked bookcase reaching almost to the ceiling. To get further in you had to sidle around it.

  He took a step in and spoke Jerry’s name. Trying to sound reasonable with a message that suggested the opposite, he said, ‘There are armed men with me. I want you face down on the floor.’

  No sound came back, and he had a strong sense that the place was empty.

  He edged round the bookcase.

  No one.

  But if any doubt lingered about Jerry’s guilt, this scene removed it. The bookcase was literally a front that screened off a primitive cell, with slop bucket, mattress, plastic plates and water bottles.

  Scraps of food were scattered about the floor along with shoes, Kleenex tissues and Hosannah totebags.

  Leaman came in behind him.

  ‘Don’t ask.’

  ‘But his car’s still outside, guv.’

  ‘Hole in one, John. He drives here in the Shogun and uses the van to transport his victims. He’s already on his way to another hanging.’

  49

  ‘What do we do now – wait for a shout from uniform?’ Leaman asked, making it sound like an accusation. The stress was getting to everyone.

  ‘What you do, Inspector, is inform all units they’re looking for a dark blue van with Hosannah written on the side.’

  ‘Do you know the make and registration?’

  ‘If I did, would I keep it to myself?’

  ‘Is there any way to work out where he’s heading?’

  ‘You think that hasn’t crossed my mind?’ He left Leaman using his personal radio and went back to Paloma. He wanted her to see the interior of the book depot. Not to rub her nose in it, but to remove any scintilla of doubt about her son’s recent actions.

  Her mouth quivered, but she drew in a sharp breath and got control. They walked over to the building. At his suggestion she held a tissue to her face when he took her in. She stood looking for a couple of seconds and then needed the fresh air. Outside, she swayed a little and he thought she would faint, so he took her back to his car. There was a bottle of water in there.

  He waited for her reaction, but she was numb. Her eyes were opaque and her shoulders sagged. All her vitality had drained away.

  ‘You did the right thing, making me look,’ she said finally in a low, flat voice. ‘There’s no escaping that.’

  ‘And you had no suspicion?’

  Her eyelids closed a moment longer than was natural. She gave no answer.

  ‘Any thought where we can find him now?’

  She shook her head. ‘Dear God, I wish I knew.’

  Sensing the turmoil within her, he kept to practicalities. ‘Must be somewhere he’s familiar with. He’ll have visited there a number of times, staked it out. There are only so many places he can know that well.’

  She pressed her hands to her face as if to hold her emotions in check. ‘He knows the church and the hospitals he visits. Laura Place, where he lives. The Pulteney Bridge area.’

  Diamond had already gone through these possibilities in his mind. Pulteney Bridge would be a spectacular place for a hanging, but it would entail breaking into one of the shops built into the structure and that would add to the complexity of the crime.

  ‘He evidently knows the parks,’ he said.

  ‘Yes, he enjoys a walk.’ She’d missed the point, and perhaps it was a mercy.

  ‘Where does he do his shopping?’

  ‘Waitrose is the nearest. Sometimes like today he’ll do a big shop with me over at Sainsbury’s.’

  ‘Green Park, where you and I met.’

  She glanced at him, bit her lip and looked away. The tears were not far off.

  He went back to direct operations. Some of the rapid response team could be stood down. Four would remain in case Jerry returned to collect his car. But if he did, he would already have committed a sixth murder.

  Leaman had broadcast a description of the van. ‘There aren’t that many commercial vehicles moving around the city after midnight,’ he said. ‘With so many officers on duty we must stand a chance of intercepting it.’

  ‘By now it won’t be moving,’ Diamond said. ‘It’ll be stationary, and close to the place he’s selected.’

  ‘Even so.’

  Diamond nodded. ‘But there’s so little time. My guess is that he leaves his victim tied up in the back of the van while he rigs up the gallows. Unrolls the plastic cord, slings the end over the crossbeam or whatever, secures it, makes a noose, cuts it. Ten minutes maximum. He left here at least an hour ago.’

  ‘There are people about. He may have to wait a while to pick his moment.’

  ‘We can hope.’

  To his credit, Leaman was trying to contribute ideas. ‘He’s never used the same sort of structure more than once. A kid’s swing, a viaduct, a tree, Sham Castle, the arch in Victoria Park.’

  ‘Where does that take us? The possibilities are endless. A crane, scaffolding, a multistorey car park, a floodlight tower.’

  ‘He hasn’t used a bridge over the river.’

  Diamond pulled a face. ‘Do you know how many there are? I can think of ten. I left instructions that each one was obboed.’

  ‘Would he have driven out into the country?’

  ‘If he has, we’re sunk. But there’s a certain arrogance at work here. Up to now he’s found sites within the city and I’m sure he means to get away with it again. Where do you look for a parked car in a city?’

  ‘Car park?’

  ‘Get them all checked. We’ve got the manpower.’ He thought of what he’d discussed with Paloma, and added, ‘The one behind Sainsbury’s.’

  Leaman spoke into his radio.

  Diamond kicked at some weeds growing through the asphalt. Then he returned to Paloma and sat in the car with her.

  She asked if there was any progress and he shook his head.

  ‘I’d better tell you,’ she said without looking at him.

  ‘Tell me what?’

  Mental pain
has its own vocabulary. From the depth of her being came a moan primal in its intensity. A mother’s lament. People say there is nothing worse to endure than the death of your own child. Maybe something is worse, Diamond thought, and that is to discover that your child has grown up into a cold-blooded killer.

  The sound died away. Her eyes were still squeezed shut and her head was shaking.

  ‘It’s all right,’ he said, knowing it wasn’t. He was at a loss.

  She reached for his hand and gripped it with extraordinary force. Then the words came, haltingly, each one as if it hurt. ‘You asked just now if I’d had any suspicion about Jerry. Well, I don’t know what you call suspicion, but I’m his mother and I see him a lot, and I’ve had a horrible feeling for weeks that he was getting into something bad, something illegal, though nothing so terrible as this. How could anyone imagine . . . ?’ A sob jerked from her chest. ‘I’m sorry. I can’t go on.’

  ‘Try,’ he said. ‘I need to know.’

  She drew another long breath. ‘I could tell he was on edge a lot of the time, ever since he became so involved in this church. But they’re church people and they shouldn’t be doing bad things, so I kept telling myself I must be mistaken.’

  ‘Did you raise it with him?’

  ‘Quite a few times. That is, I didn’t say he was up to no good. I said I could tell he was under pressure. I didn’t think it was the job, or a woman. I wondered if he had money problems, but he knew I could help him out and sometimes did.’

  ‘What did he say when you spoke to him?’

  ‘That I was fussing and ought to treat him like a grown-up. It’s so hard.’ The tears streamed from her eyes again. ‘You’ve got to let go, I know that. But as his mother I could sense he was in some kind of trouble and it was getting worse all the time. Little things you notice, like if we were shopping he’d move into another aisle to avoid people he recognised. Or he’d jump if the phone rang. And he changed his address about five times in two years for no good reason.’ She swung to face Diamond and her voice broke up as she said, ‘That’s why I wrote you the letter.’

  ‘What letter?’

  ‘That first letter asking to meet you in the Saracen’s.’

  Ambushed yet again. That letter. ‘The one I ignored?’

  ‘Yes, it was unforgivable what I did. I had this stupid idea that if I started a friendship with a policeman, a senior policeman, and invited you home, Jerry would be shocked into stopping whatever he was doing that was making him so furtive.’

  He’d taken one low punch before, when she’d told him he was virtually entrapped. He’d ridden that one, telling himself he should be flattered to get the attention. Now he’d found out she’d picked him because of his job, not who he was. He was just ‘a senior policeman’.

  Paloma’s next words came in a burst, as if to stop him saying anything. ‘I’m sorry, Peter. I deceived you. I used you. I read about you and knew you’d lost your wife three years ago. I thought you were probably lonely. Once I’d got this idea, I pursued you. I was driven. It was the only way I could see of getting through to my son.’

  He couldn’t speak. It was his turn to be numb. He closed his eyes, absorbing it all. What a mug. All the soul-searching about starting a relationship, the guilt about Steph, the belief that someone found him sexually attractive – overweight and middle-aged as he was – all this was down to vanity. Pathetic. Even after learning that the affair had been plotted by Paloma to reel him in, he’d forgiven her. Deep down, he’d been flattered that she cared enough to go to all the trouble she had.

  Now he knew she hadn’t wanted him at all except to make a point to her shithead son, as evil a killer as he’d come across.

  Conned.

  ‘And none of it succeeded,’ he managed to say finally. ‘He didn’t give a toss.’

  ‘That’s wrong, Peter. When he met you and learned I was going out with you he was shocked to the core. I could tell.’

  ‘He carried on with the killing.’

  ‘Peter,’ she said. ‘I just want to say—’

  ‘Don’t say anything. Not now. I can’t take any more.’

  He got out of the car and started walking to where Leaman was speaking to someone on his radio. He felt betrayed.

  But at this low point he still had to function. A killer was out there. Another victim was about to die.

  One thing made sense. Paloma’s last remark – about Jerry being shocked to the core – linked up with a real event. Jerry must have torched his own car, the precious Nissan Pathfinder, in panic that it would be searched and reveal DNA from his recent victims, Delia and Danny.

  There seemed to be something happening. Leaman flapped his hand to him to hurry.

  ‘We’ve got the shout, guv. The Hosannah van is in Sainsbury’s car park, just like you said.’

  50

  After telling Paloma where he was driving, he was silent. He didn’t trust himself to say more.

  The trip was a short belt into the city along the Upper Bristol Road and then south to Green Park. Unusually for Diamond, he put his foot down. Not much was on the move at one twenty in the morning. Sirens and beacons were not being used. This would make the inrush of police vehicles conspicuous, so he’d ordered a discreet operation. He didn’t want Jerry Kean alerted and making a run for it.

  Back in 1966, after nearly a century of railway history, the last train pulled out of Green Park station. It was decided not to demolish the fine Palladian facade built by the Victorians. It fitted in with the rest of Bath and hid the train shed behind. Now the site was regenerated as a shopping precinct with car park, shops, superstore, restaurant and covered market. Diamond wished he’d thought of this place as a likely site for the next execution. The arched interior with its cast-iron ribs was in the classic style of St Pancras and other great stations. Crucially for Jerry Kean, there was open access. Once the market stalls inside were closed for the day, the old train shed was deserted. Ample opportunity to sling a cord over a girder and rig up another spectacular hanging.

  Not many cars were parked overnight in the space where rail tracks had once run. In his private car Diamond drove past the police vehicles and right up to the end where the great arched shed was. It was difficult to see much, but he picked out the Hosannah van and stopped a few spaces away.

  He’d expected Leaman the keeno to be ahead of him. Instead, when he got out, the first to come up was Georgina. Seeing the triumphant look in her eye, he would have settled for Leaman.

  ‘Glad you made it, Peter,’ she said. ‘My tactics seem to have paid off.’

  ‘Your tactics?’

  ‘Pulling out all the stops. The massive surveillance exercise.’

  ‘That was your idea?’

  ‘My decision.’ She was taking any credit that was going. Such is the privilege of assistant chief constables.

  ‘Have you made the arrest, then?’

  ‘Good Lord, no. I’ve only been here three minutes, straight from seeing the organiser of the ram raids. The man who calls himself Harry Lang, would you believe?’

  He didn’t trust himself to comment.

  Georgina added, ‘DI Halliwell interviewed him in hospital with me sitting in. He admits to everything.’

  ‘Congratulations. Are you sure he isn’t in your choir, singing like that?’

  She gave an uneasy laugh. ‘I don’t think so.’

  ‘Shall we get on with this, ma’am? Has the van been searched?’

  ‘I gather DI Leaman has had it open and found nothing.’

  ‘They’re somewhere in the station, then.’

  ‘Apparently not.’

  He gave her the quizzical look she seemed to expect.

  ‘No joy so far,’ she said and leaned closer. ‘Who’s the lady in your car, if it isn’t a personal question?’

  ‘Ah, but it is.’ Bloody cheek, he thought. Spotting Leaman, he turned his back on Georgina and went over.

  ‘I don’t get it, guv,’ Leaman said. ‘The van’s
been parked for some time. The engine’s almost cold. No one inside. They’ve vanished.’

  He didn’t believe that for a moment. Taking a few steps into the shed, he peered up at the arched girders. By day, the glass roof gave plenty of light. At this late hour it was impossible to see what was up there. ‘Let’s have some lights. If he’s still about he knows we’re here.’

  He wanted to see if the tell-tale plastic cord had been drawn over any of the girders and tied to one side, ready for the hanging.

  Powerful flash-lamps probed the roof. A vehicle equipped with rotating lights was driven in. In the next five minutes numerous pairs of eyes stared up at the ironwork and sighted nothing.

  ‘I don’t get it,’ Leaman said for the second time.

  ‘Shut up, then.’

  Diamond was near the end of his tether. He walked to the far end, the former booking hall. By day and evening it was in use as a brasserie, sometimes with live jazz, but at this hour it was in darkness. There were no signs of a break-in. He rattled the door. ‘Let’s have this open.’

  ‘What with?’ one officer asked.

  ‘What do you think? Your magic wand?’

  A kick did the job. They went in, switched on the lights and made a swift search of the seating area, bar, kitchen and toilets.

  Nobody was in there.

  ‘What’s upstairs?’ he asked.

  ‘The Bath Society meeting room.’

  He felt movement in his pocket and took out the mobile and looked at it. Who on earth knew his number besides Paloma and Leaman, who were both near by?

  He slapped it to his ear. ‘Yes?’

  ‘Guv.’

  Ingeborg. She’d shown him how to use the thing.

  ‘Guv, he’s here, round the front entrance. You’d better come fast, but try not to panic him. There’s a noose round Martin Steel’s neck.’

  His skin prickled. He ran to the door that led on to the street and kicked it open. He was among a cluster of metal tables and patio heaters. He ran on across the cobbled forecourt to where he saw Ingeborg standing beside a police car parked in James Street West to block the traffic. She was pointing.

  He turned to look at the station front with its six columns above the metal canopy that had once protected passengers waiting for taxis. He couldn’t see Jerry Kean or Martin Steel. ‘Where are they?’