by Ellis, Tim
She squeezed his arm. ‘I’m only joking. You don’t really think I could be a Page 3 girl at my age, do you?’
‘You’ll always be my Page 3 girl,’ he said. Tears ran down his cheeks. ‘Christ, look at me,’ he said wiping the tears away with his sleeve. ‘The drugs they’re giving me are turning me into a blubbering idiot.’
‘I love you as well, Ray Kowalski.’
They hugged and kissed.
‘You know they’ve frozen our bank accounts, don’t you?’
‘Oh God! How can they do that? What are we supposed to live on?’
‘I don’t know. Apparently, we have fifty thousand pounds of drug money in the main account.’
‘They must think you’re stupid.’
‘Thanks for that.’
‘Well, let’s face it, only a stupid person would hide drug money in their main account. If you’re that stupid I wonder how you ever got promoted above Constable.’
‘Yes, there’s a lot of holes in their case.’
‘I’ll just have to borrow money off mum and dad, and hope it all gets sorted out before they’re broke.’
‘Where’s Parish and Richards when we need them?’
‘You sent them to America, remember?’
‘They do get the news over there. I’m surprised he hasn’t rung.’
‘Maybe he has, but they haven’t passed it on. And you haven’t got a phone in here.’
‘I haven’t got my mobile either. Can you bring it in tonight? And try and ring Parish as well, find out what’s going on. He’s staying at the Jefferson Hotel in Richmond, Virginia.’
‘Okay. I’ll bring my mum and dad in to see you tonight as well.’
‘I definitely recall the doctor saying I wasn’t to be tortured.’
‘I’m sure some gentle torture would be okay,’ she said sliding her hand between the sheets.
‘You’re trying to get me arrested aren’t you?’
***
‘Do you think there’s a future for us?’ Toadstone asked.
They were sitting in the Edelweiss restaurant on Forest Road overlooking Forest Park Cemetery and Crematorium. Although spoilt for choice, Xena decided in the end to have the schlachtplatte, which was the mixed sausages, sauerkraut and potatoes. Toadstone had the konigsberger klopse – meatballs in caper sauce.
‘Extremely unlikely.’
‘Why?’
‘I’ve heard that Richards is your true love. I’d just be a stop-gap, and I’m far too beautiful to be somebody’s stop-gap.’
Toadstone didn’t say anything.
‘Your silence tells a tale.’
‘She doesn’t want me.’
‘And you think I’m happy being second best?’
‘I have to move on.’
‘That’s who the plastic surgery was for, wasn’t it?’
‘Yes.’
‘Unfortunately...’
‘I’m not the only one who begins sentences with that word.’
Xena gave an involuntary smile. ‘The plastic surgery was just papering over the cracks.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Most people agree that you have zero personality.’
‘Oh!’
‘Sorry to be so brutal, but...’
‘I’ve tried being more forceful, but I wasn’t much good at it. Everybody thought I resembled Genghis Khan.’
‘You give up too easily. There are people out there who can mould you into Richards’ ideal man.’
‘I don’t know.’
‘See, that’s exactly what people are talking about. You’re wishy-washy, a fence-sitter, and dull as dishwater.’
‘You really know how to tell people the truth, Sergeant Blake.’
‘That’s because I’m not wishy-washy. You and Stick would get on well. He sits on the fence a lot.’
‘Well, thanks for your forthrightness. I might have a look at what’s out there.’
‘Might? Pick up the damned phone and call someone. If you do it and fail, at least you gave it a try. If you don’t give it a try, you’ll look back and think, “What if”. Let me tell you, Dr Genius, there are no “what ifs” in my life. Now look, we can have sex if you want, because I’m kind of interested in how you’ll perform in bed, but it’s up to you.’
‘I don’t think I should. I mean, if I can become a new person, and Mary finds out about us...’
‘You’re a free agent, but hey... don’t do me any favours.’
‘Thanks all the same, but you’ve given me new hope that I might be able to win Mary’s heart after all.’
‘Whatever.’
‘Do you want a pudding?’
‘I don’t usually stuff myself at lunchtime, but what the hell – no “what ifs”. I’ll have the schwarzwalder – the Black Forest chocolate cake with cherries, whipped cream, and grated chocolate – no second best for me.’
‘How did your romantic lunch go?’ Stick asked when she was back at ESP Logistics.
‘I decided to forego the romance and had the chocolate cake instead.’
‘A wise decision.’
‘Anybody would think you were an expert on romance.’
‘Maybe I am.’
‘And maybe you’re not. Tell me about the woman from Radcliffe Estate.’
‘She’s never seen Smith. He arranged the letting by telephone, used the fax to sign the agreement, pays the monthly fee by electronic transfer through a clearing bank. In other words...’
‘They were no help.’
‘Correct.’
‘And the sign guy?’
‘It was Smith who organised and paid for the sign.’
‘Which doesn’t help us?’
‘Correct.’
‘Will you stop saying that. You sound like one of my teachers at school.’
‘You were correct a lot?’
‘I was in trouble a lot.’
‘Of course. What now, Sarge?’
‘Let’s sit in the car and see where we are.’
‘Did you bring me any sandwiches?’
‘I forgot.’
‘I’ll try to concentrate then, but if I faint just give me a nudge.’
They climbed into the car out of the cold and drizzle.
‘You’re such a martyr. Right, talk to me.’ She put the passenger seat back and closed her eyes.
‘We know that John Smith is not his real name...’
‘Start with what we do know, not what we don’t know.’
‘We know he’s killed and dismembered forty-five women. He drives a white van, and he’s gone to extraordinary lengths to hide his real identity by taking on the persona of John Smith. He obtained credit cards and a passport under the name of John Smith. He rented this industrial unit to house a telephone relay switch and the photographs of his victims. Nobody ever saw him here, so he must have entered during the night. There’s a chair with castors in front of the board, and he probably sat there and stared at the photographs. It’s also likely that it was a sexual experience, and he might very well have masturbated. This unit is called ESP Logistics, and he ran the company, but passed himself off as a driver/delivery man. We know he delivered a grandfather clock to a man in Hastings, and for that he used a partner called Kev...’
‘How did Allan Williams pay Smith?’ Xena said.
‘I think you forgot to ask him that question.’
Xena smiled. ‘Considering you’re teetering on the abyss of starvation, you’re unusually quick today.’
‘Thanks, Sarge. I have his phone number.’
Xena didn’t say anything.
‘Do you want me to ring him?’
‘No, I don’t think so. I’d like you to sit there and hum quietly to yourself while I drift off to the land of nod in blissful ignorance.’
Stick pulled out his phone and rang Mr. Williams.
‘Cheque. Thank you...’
‘Wait.’
‘Yes?’
‘Ask him if he’d be so kind as to contact his b
ank and give us permission to trace who cashed that cheque. Also, get his bank details so we can do that.’
Stick did as he was told, and ended the call.
‘Carry on.’
‘We have a bunch of five keys. One of which belongs to his van, but we know nothing about the other four. We also know nothing about the partner Kev.’
‘I think we’ve struggled on long enough. Time to get some help from the press and the public. When we get back, we’ll hold a press briefing and ask them to publish Smith’s photograph with the caption: Do you know this man? We’ll also ask if there’s a Kev out there who helped Smith deliver a grandfather clock to Hastings.’
‘Seems a logical next step.’
‘I’m glad you approve.’
There was a knock on the driver’s window that made them both jump.
Stick pressed the button, but the window stayed where it was. He opened the door, and Toadstone leaned in.
‘We’ve got room for one more if you want to come in out of the rain,’ Xena said.
‘It’s a tempting offer, but I have a counter-offer.’
‘Oh?’
‘Come and see.’
‘This better be worth my while, Dr Bleeding Heart.’
‘I think you’ll be suitably impressed.’
They followed Toadstone back into the building. The board with the photographs on had been removed from the wall. Now, they could see a recess in the wall, which was slightly smaller than the board, and approximately nine inches in depth. It had four shelves inside, which were full of clothes, keys, purses, bags and a number of other items.
‘The victims’ possessions?’ Stick guessed.
Toadstone nodded. ‘Yes. It’ll take us at least forty-eight hours to catalogue and analyse everything, but...’ He pointed to the bottom right-hand corner, picked it up with his gloved hands, and opened it out. Roads were highlighted, places were circled, names were written against the places.
‘Smith’s done our work for us,’ Xena said. ‘Very methodical of him. Now, all we need to do is find out who the hell he is. Good work, Dr Toadstone,’ she said. ‘And you anonymous people behind those masks.’
‘You do know my name after all?’
‘Don’t get carried away. It was a guess, and I’ve already forgotten it. Come on, Stick, we have to go to church.’
Chapter Eighteen
Monument Street was chock full of statues of famous Americans from the Civil War such as: Robert E Lee, J.E.B. Stuart, Jefferson Davis, Stonewall Jackson, and Mathew Fontaine Maury. For some strange reason, Arthur Ashe was there with his tennis racket and his books.
Richards peered at the brass inscription on the stone plinth. ‘It says here that he won Wimbledon in 1975 by beating Jimmy Connors.’
‘The only black man ever to have won Wimbledon,’ Parish said.
‘You don’t know that.’
‘Do I watch Wimbledon every year?’
‘I don’t know.’
‘Well, I can tell you that I do. And as well as watching it, I also know a lot of the history. Did you know that...?’
Richards stretched and yawned. ‘I feel sleepy all of a sudden.’
‘Never mind Wimbledon,’ Angie interrupted. ‘Look at all these shops. You take Jack. Mary and I are going shopping. Now, this is what we came for. Didn’t somebody say something about spending money?’
He handed the greenbacks over.
‘Don’t wait up.’
What could he say? Richmond, Virginia hadn’t exactly been a bowl of cherries for Angie so far. Murder was all right for him and Richards, but it wasn’t really what Angie had come along for.
After they’d made an ill-advised frontal assault on Shoe Show, he persuaded the two of them that if they were to continue with their forward advance into enemy territory, then eating was a pre-requisite.
‘You and your stomach,’ Angie said. ‘There are more important things, you know.’
‘At this moment I can’t think of a single one, and Jack needs changing as well.’
They saw the logic in his argument.
It was difficult deciding where to eat. There were so many restaurants, grills, inns, and cafes to choose from that they argued about where to go, but as Parish said, ‘We didn’t come all this way to eat what we can get in Chigwell.’ That made the difference.
They finally agreed on the Caliente, located on the corner of Park and Shepherd, which served a mixture of Cajun, Caribbean, and South Carolina food.
Parish really wanted the Cowboy Chili Breakfast, but he knew he’d be up against some stiff opposition if he tried to order another breakfast, so he thought he’d be adventurous and try the Buffalo Gator Bites with Buffalo Wing sauce.
‘Is it really alligator meat?’ Richards asked the waitress.
‘Sure is, Ma’am.’
‘Yuk!’
‘Alligator fillets shipped down fresh from the everglades. We eat them, so they don’t eat us.’
Angie and Richards both ordered the Thai Cobb Salad.
‘A Chigwell special,’ he said, pulling a face.
‘I’m still trying to get my figure back,’ Angie argued.
Richards took a drink of water. ‘And I’m trying to keep mine.’
The meal was merely a breather before the main battle for shopping supremacy. The two women had no master plan, they simply charged along Monument Street conquering shops as they went: Hambo Stamps, Shoe Carnival, Dress Barn, Chico’s, Lane Bryant, Rack Room Shoes, Coplon’s, and Fashion Bug.
He didn’t venture into any of those shops. The only reason he was there was to push a sleeping Jack along in his buggy. After the ladies came out of the second shop with the excitement of battle in their eyes and piled high with loot, he decided to make a sortie of his own into Barnes & Noble to buy a book. He didn’t normally have time to read novels, but his mind was beginning to calcify. He decided on a new thriller author called Seb Kirby, and bought his Double Bind.
‘Are you going to be much longer?’ he asked when they came out of Talbots to re-group and pile the buggy up with bags. He wondered if Jack was actually still sleeping beneath their ill-gotten gains.
‘It’ll take as long as it takes,’ Angie said. ‘Have you got anything else to say?’
‘Only, have a good time, darling.’
It was dark when they reached Gus. The shops left in their wake were bought-out ruins.
‘You could have left some things for the looters,’ he said.
‘It’s every woman for herself in a shop,’ Richards offered in her defence. ‘No mercy, no prisoners.’
Gus merely smiled.
‘Are you married, Gus?’ he asked.
‘I’ve never been that brave, Sir.’
They arrived back at the hotel just in time to get changed for dinner.
‘I’m starving,’ he said.
‘Do you know any other words?’ Richards asked.
‘A couple, but I’ve found that they’re not much use.’
***
The cleaners had gone through Charlie’s flat like a dose of salts through a widowed woman, and Jerry was suitably impressed as she handed over the cheque.
Of course, she’d had to make a detour to her home – and it was a home again. Her mum and dad had worked tirelessly to repair the damage that the bitch MacGregor had done. Her dad used to be a plumber, but he could also turn his hand to carpentry and most of the other skills in the building trade. He’d either repaired or replaced the kitchen cabinets, and any other damage to the fabric of the house. A lot of her possessions had needed to be thrown out, but her mum had photographed every item, and made a detailed list of everything as evidence for the courts.
‘They’ve frozen our bank accounts, dad. I need money to tide me over.’
The two of them went to a local branch of his bank, and opened an account in her name. He transferred twenty thousand pounds into the account without a second thought. The manager gave her a handful of temporary cheques, and she took a
thousand pounds out in cash.
‘I’ve come into the wrong flat, haven’t I?’ Charlie said, walking round wide-eyed, and looking in every drawer and cupboard. ‘I have one question – where are all my clothes?’
‘Your suits and everything else that needed to be dry-cleaned have gone to the dry cleaners. All your other clothes have been taken to the launderette.’
‘But I’ve got...’
‘That’s why we’re going to buy you a suit, and a shirt and tie now.’
‘I don’t know what to say.’
‘You will when I tell you about my plan.’
‘Oh?’
‘Not yet. We have to make everything right first, and you need to be dressed to do that.’
They drove into Chigwell and bought Charlie what he needed to make a good impression.
‘You scrub up well,’ she said to him. ‘You should do it more often.’
‘Don’t worry, I’m going to keep on top of everything now.’
‘Oh, I know you are. You’re part of my plan, Charlie Baxter.’
‘It isn’t a plan for world domination, is it?’
‘Something like that.’
On the way back to the car they saw the newspaper headlines: POLICE VANDALS, and bought a selection of evening papers.
‘I forgot to tell you that I gave a press conference outside the hospital while I was visiting my husband.’
‘You took my advice then?’
‘Of course. It’s no good having a lawyer if you don’t take their advice.’
‘They’ve arrested Ray?’
‘Yes, but don’t worry, he knows better than to say anything.’
‘Good. He’ll be okay as long as they keep him in hospital.’
‘They’re doing another operation to keep his arteries open tomorrow morning, so he’ll be kept in for a while yet.’
‘He’s going to be all right, isn’t he?’
‘Don’t worry about Ray, he knows how to survive.’
‘I’ll keep my fingers crossed. Now, let’s get back to the office and make sure we’re ready for that hearing tomorrow.’
‘Yes. At the moment, getting my children back is the only thing that matters.’
***