by Ellis, Tim
The second church was at the end of Miller’s Lane in Stanstead Abbotts. It was a Baptist church called The Church of Christ.
‘Now this is what you call a church,’ Xena said.
‘This one hasn’t got a cross on the apex either.’
‘No, but it does have a round window with a cross in the centre. And look at those double wooden doors – they’re definitely church doors.’
‘No such thing.’
‘Have you got something against the Baptists?’
‘I don’t even know any.’
‘And look at those chalk boards. They have a service on Sunday.’
‘That’s usually when they have church services.’
‘Do you go to church, Stickamundo?’
‘That’s between me and God.’
Xena laughed. ‘Sometimes you remind me of the laughing policeman.’
They walked right in through the wooden arched door.
The Minister was a woman called Elaine Fryatt.
‘Have you been immersed?’
‘I’m sorry?’ Xena said.
The Minister pointed to a swimming pool measuring four by three metres at the far end of the church.
‘It’s a bit cold for swimming, and I haven’t brought my cozzie with me.’
Stick interrupted by showing his warrant card. ‘We’re police. Excuse Sergeant Blake, she’s a heathen.’
‘There are many unbelievers in today’s society. How can I help you?’
Xena butted in again. ‘We’re looking for a paedophile torture chamber. You haven’t got one in the cellar, have you?’
‘Ah yes, the torture of those poor men.’
‘Hardly poor, but let’s not get into a philosophical debate about the merits of retribution.’
‘And you think they’re being tortured beneath my church?’
‘We found evidence of anointing oil,’ Stick explained. ‘This is just one of the churches we’re visiting.’
‘I see. Well, you’re welcome to have a look in the cellar.’ She led them up the aisle to a side door on the left of the pulpit, past an office, and through another door. ‘Watch your step, the light isn’t very bright.’
They descended about twenty steps to a large cellar the length and width of the church above. It was being used for storage, was cold and damp, and had four substantial pillars running down the centre.
‘Do you have a gas meter?’ Xena asked.
‘In a cupboard upstairs.’
‘Okay, thanks for your time – we’ve seen enough.’
The Minister led them back up to the church. ‘Sorry I couldn’t be more help.’
‘I should think you’d be glad there were no paedophiles being tortured here.’
‘Oh I am, but I always like to help the police with their enquiries if I can.’
‘I wish everyone did.’
Outside Xena leaned against the driver’s door.
Stick pulled a face. ‘You’re not thinking of driving again, are you?’
‘I’m fed up.’
‘Because of Dr Toadstone?’
‘Don’t talk rubbish. Toadstone is history. I’m fed up because what we’re doing isn’t getting us anywhere. We could visit all thirty-three churches and still find nothing. I’m down to three days now. We need another plan.’
‘Okay.’
‘Well, have you got one?’
‘Oh, you want me to come up with a plan?’
‘Why not? You said you’d do anything to make sure I get my promotion – so come up with a plan.’
‘Should we go back to the station first? I can’t think while I’m shivering. Also, weren’t you going to have a press briefing about Smith?’
‘I’m having second thoughts about that. If I do hold a press conference, the Chief will find out that we’ve been working on the case, and it might jeopardise my promotion.’
‘Alleged promotion.’
‘Will you stop saying that?’
‘And talking about the Chief, don’t you have to brief her at five-thirty?’
‘That should take all of point five of a second.’ She stamped round to the passenger side. ‘Let’s go. I’m going to go up and see that Erin Donnelly first. I’d like to know what the hell she’s been doing. A sloth could have found the MAPs by now.’
‘There, we have a plan. Glad I could help.’
***
They were all gathered in the communal living room. Romeo had passed round the beers. Cookie was sitting cross-legged on the coffee table like an elf, and the others had draped themselves over the second-hand furniture in various uncomfortable positions.
The day had been eventful. She’d hacked into every computer
Barrett-Croft had access to, and it wasn’t too difficult to find the naughty pictures. And as it turned out, she hadn’t needed to visit Kowalski again because she’d been able to piece together his career from the fragments she’d found on the Internet. As a result, she’d discovered who was trying to destroy him... and why.
With the exception of her father raping her, she had never had sex with a man. In fact, she was still undecided whether she liked men at all. She didn’t like women – well, not in that way – but then, she didn’t really like men either. She was non-sexual. Was there a third way? She didn’t know. All she did know was that sex was something that she had no intention of dipping into for the foreseeable future. She passed copies of the pictures round.
There was lots of laughter.
‘How the other half live,’ Harley said, twisting her head like a contortionist to get a better look.
‘What’s that?’ Romeo said pointing at one of the pictures.
Shrek gulped. ‘He’s not short of an inch or two, is he?’
‘Have we quite finished?’ Cookie asked.
They turned to look at her.
‘The pictures are all well and good, but he could argue it’s not him.’
Romeo gave a laugh. ‘Of course it’s him. A blind man with a wooden leg could see that.’
‘No,’ Harley piped up. ‘I can see what Cookie’s saying. You look through all of the photographs, and you never get more than a quarter of his face.’
Shrek nodded. ‘There’s no identifying marks either. No birth marks, scars, jewellery...’
‘What about...’ Romeo persisted. ‘You know? You don’t get many of those to the pound.’
‘Maybe the taste...’ Harley said with a grin.
Romeo threw back his head and laughed. What, you mean like a chemical experiment?’
‘My thoughts exactly,’ Harley confirmed.
‘I know,’ Shrek joined in. ‘You could compare it with mine.’
‘I’d rather swallow a rattlesnake,’ Harley said.
Shrek gripped his groin with his right hand. ‘Welcome to the reptile house, baby,’ he said, and smirked.
‘They don’t have tiny worms in the reptile house,’ Harley challenged him.
‘Ha, ha. I’ve never laughed so much.’
Shrek and Harley had been an item back in the day for all of two weeks, and then they hadn’t spoken for six months. Now, they tried to avoid each other like the plague.
‘Can we stay serious, please?’ Cookie said.
Harley brushed her hair back out of her eyes with fingers parted like a comb. ‘I was being serious.’
‘What we need is a video recording. Now, it just so happens that the two women involved in the Chief Constable’s little games are well-known in certain circles, and have their photographs on a website called: Submit and be Damned.
‘Hey, neat name,’ Romeo said.
‘It’s a front for an S&M club called The Dungeon on Chalfont Street in Colchester. I’ve checked their bookings, and Barrett-Croft just can’t stay away. He’s due to be punished in Naughty Room Three tonight at nine o’clock.’
Romeo laughed. ‘Naughty Room Three! I love that name as well, and I can imagine what goes on in there.’
‘How are you going to get a video.
..?’ Harley asked.
‘I need two volunteers.’
The three glanced furtively at each other.
‘Not a chance,’ Harley said. ‘I know exactly what’s running through that warped mind of yours.’
‘You wouldn’t have to do anything... you know – sexual in nature. Just get in the room, plant the camera, and get out.’
Shrek looked confused. ‘Who would go with...?’ He gave a nervous laugh. ‘I don’t think so. She’d like nothing better than to beat my arse with a horse whip.’
Harley’s eyes narrowed. ‘Of course. I’d be the dominatrix, wouldn’t I? Okay, count me in.’
‘You’ll be going on your own,’ Shrek said. I’m nobody’s submissive.’
‘Come on, Shrek,’ Cookie coaxed him. ‘You’re not scared of Harley, are you?’
‘Course he is,’ Harley said. ‘If I get the chance he’s gonna get what’s coming to him.’
‘No, I’m not afraid of her,’ Shrek blurted out, but the look on his face told another story. ‘Okay, I’ll go, but...’
‘Don’t worry,’ Cookie said. ‘In, out...’
‘...and shake it all about,’ Romeo finished for her.
They all burst out laughing.
***
Dinner was pleasant.
He had Tom Gallivan’s Shooting Point Oysters in the half shell all the way from the Machipongo Inlet for starters...
Richards sniggered. ‘You’re in for it tonight, mum.’
‘He’s sleeping on the floor.’
For the main course he had the Barnyard Burger with Farmhouse Cheddar and a sunny side up egg...
‘It’s like feeding time in the gorilla cage,’ Richards said, through a mouthful of leaves.
‘At least he hasn’t been picking his nose with the same hand he’s eating with,’ Angie offered.
‘Don’t be disgusting... That we know of anyway.’
The two of them laughed.
The ladies declined dessert, but he thought he’d make the effort, and ordered Mom’s Perfect Chocolate Pie with Peanut Butter Ice Cream and Chocolate Sauce.’
‘I hope you’re not going to make strange noises on the stage during your presentation tomorrow,’ Richards said, and grinned at her mum.
‘They’ll think it’s part of his presentation,’ Angie suggested. ‘You know, sound effects.’
‘It’d probably make more of an impact than the presentation he’s actually going to give.’
They giggled like schoolchildren.
‘That was a pleasant dinner,’ he said, standing up and helping the ladies with their chairs. ‘Despite the obscene commentary.’
‘I don’t know what you’re talking about,’ Richards said. ‘Do you, mum?’
‘No idea.’
They had one drink in the bar, and then made their way up to their rooms.
Richards came into the room collect the red “Painter” files, but then became involved in examining Alicia Mae’s personal effects.
‘Haven’t you got your own room to go to, Mary Richards?’
‘I’ll take them...’
‘No you won’t,’ Parish said. ‘I’m half way...’
‘Half way! What does that mean?’
‘It means, Constable Richards, that I – a Detective Inspector of the first order – have already begun to examine the contents of said plastic bag.’
Richards tipped everything out on the floor again.
Parish made two piles. Pushing the items of no interest towards Richards, and keeping the other items – Alicia Mae’s mobile telephone, her diary and a bunch of keys – close to himself.
‘What about this stuff?’
‘Put it back in the bag.’
‘Have you looked at it?’
‘What for?’
Richards picked up each item in turn, and examined it before slipping it back into the plastic bag.
He opened up the diary and began flicking through the pages.
The telephone rang.
Angie was in the bathroom changing Jack.
Richards said, ‘It’s your telephone.’
He sat on the bed.
‘Parish?’
‘Mr Parish,’ the soft voice of the operator said. ‘I have a call from England.’
‘Who...?’
‘A Jerry Kowalski. Do you wish to...?’
‘Yes.’
The connection was made.
‘Hello Jed. Have you heard?’
‘We’ve heard. How are you?’
They brought each other up to date with what had been happening.
‘I had the feeling there must be something stopping you from flying home to help us.’
‘You know we would have been there if we could.’
‘I know.’
‘And Ray is okay?’
‘As well as can be expected under the circumstances.’
‘That’s as much as I could get out of the Chinese nurse I spoke to.’
‘He’s having another operation to open up his arteries tomorrow morning, but he should be fine.’
‘And you, how are you coping?’
‘I’m fighting the bastards. Charlie Baxter – my solicitor – and me, are working together. Hopefully, I’ll get my children back tomorrow morning.’
‘That’s great news, Jerry. You know Angie and I wish you all the luck.’
‘Is Angie there?’
‘Of course. She’s just put Jack down. Hold on...’
He passed the phone to Angie, and went back to Richards. She was sprawled on the floor with her shoes off and her evening gown hiked up above her knees.
‘How’s the Chief?’
He told her what Jerry had said.
‘I hope he’s going to be okay.’
‘He’s as strong as an ox.’
She passed him a small curled up piece of paper.
‘What’s this?’
‘Take a look. It was in the handle of the hair brush.’
He squinted at the spidery scrawl on the paper:
Monroe Park
3 p.m. Saturday
All is well?
It is wonderful to be Santa Claus in March
‘What does it mean?’
‘I don’t know.’
They examined everything more closely, but the only other thing they found was a strange series of letters and numbers at the top of every third page of Alicia Mae’s diary:
H8 Z1 T9 LL T3 M2 O0 O8 II A4 K9 ?2
‘I thought Harry’s people had looked at her personal effects,’ Richards said.
‘They probably did, but only in connection with the “Painter”. I doubt they were looking for codes and secret messages.’
‘My head hurts,’ she said, clambering up. ‘I’m going to bed.’ She picked up her shoes with one hand, and the red files with the other.
‘Maybe you want to leave those files here?’ he suggested.
‘It doesn’t hurt that much.’
‘I didn’t think so.’
‘We should pass those clues to Harry tomorrow. Maybe they’ll be able to make some sense of them.’
‘What would I ever do without you?’
‘Miss me, that’s what.’
Chapter Nineteen
‘Well?’ Xena said.
They were in Erin Donnelly’s laboratory, and they’d just arrived as she was putting on her coat and trying to make a run for it.
‘Tomorrow,’ Erin said.
Xena grunted. ‘You keep saying that.’
‘This time I mean it.’
‘You keep saying that as well.’
‘Tomorrow.’
‘What if I have a word with your boss?’
‘By all means do, but it’ll still be tomorrow.’
‘What do you think, Stick? We could arrest her, strip her bollock-naked, do a full body search, and throw her in the cells overnight with a couple of homeless drunks.’
‘That sounds like something I might enjoy,’ Erin said. ‘But it’ll still be to
morrow.’
‘I thought you were meant to be the best?’
‘If you know someone who can find the location of the website quicker than I can, I’d be quite happy to step aside.’
‘You’re only saying that because you know I don’t know anyone. When tomorrow?’
‘Ten o’clock.’
‘In the morning?’
‘Yes.’
‘And what about the location of the gas meter?’
‘As we speak, there are people at British Gas tunnelling through years of dust and neglect, to find out where that gas meter is located. Ten o’clock tomorrow morning.’
‘You know what will happen to you if you let me down?’
‘I think I have a reasonable idea.’
‘Good, because I don’t want you to think you can palm me off with some lame excuse tomorrow. And if you decide to take a day off to wash your hair, or some such crap like that... Well, I’ll come to your house – it’ll be like the Texas Chainsaw Massacre. Stick has a chainsaw, don’t you, Stick?’
‘I think you’re going a bit overboard, Sarge. You’re beginning to sound like a crazy person who should be in Broadmoor Psychiatric Hospital.’
She opened her eyes as wide as they’d go. ‘Afterwards! First I have to find these MAPs.’
Erin smiled. ‘Have a lovely evening both of you, and I’ll see you bright and early tomorrow morning.’
‘We’ll be here,’ Xena said. ‘Just make sure you are.’
They followed Erin along the corridor, but then Xena took a left up the stairs.
‘Excuse me,’ Stick said.
‘Press officer.’
‘I thought...’
‘I’m going half way.’
‘I see.’
‘Jenny Weber can send Smith’s photograph to the media outlets with the request for help and the station’s telephone number. Hopefully, there won’t be that many calls.’
‘You’ll have to tell the Chief.’
‘I know, but we can just say it’s something that can be done while the case is on the backburner.’
‘We?’
‘You’re in it up to your elephant ears, Sticky babe, so don’t start getting squeamish on me now.’
‘You should have a health warning hung around your neck.’