Be Not Afraid (9781301650996)

by Ellis, Tim

  But before Stick could put the car into gear, Xena’s phone rang again.

  ‘Dr Genius. You were a bit harsh to me and Stick before.’

  ‘Sorry about that. I’m feeling as though I’ve been sideswiped now. I can’t believe she was trying to frame the Chief, and I knew nothing about it.’

  ‘You’ve been busy.’

  ‘I have.’

  ‘She did her job – mostly.’

  ‘She was very good at her job.’

  ‘There was no reason to question her integrity.’

  ‘That’s true.’

  ‘I wouldn’t beat yourself up about it. No one knew who she was, or what she was doing.’

  ‘Yes, but I should have done. As her line manager, it’s my job to know what my people are up to.’

  ‘Oh well, they’ll probably hold a disciplinary hearing. You’ll get the sack. So, did you ring up to bleat to me about your miserable life, or is there another reason I’m listening to your tale of woe?’

  ‘Your kindness didn’t last long.’

  ‘Kindness? I don’t recall being kind. That’s not a trait people would associate me with. Well, nice talking...’

  ‘I have the location of the gas meter, but if you checked your emails every so often you’d have found that Erin sent you the address at nine-thirty this morning.’

  ‘Bloody hell. You mean I’ve had the address all this time, and you’re only just telling me. Well, go on then, what is it?’

  ‘All Saints Church, Berners Roding – it’s abandoned – has been since the 1980s. On the A1060 from Chelmsford, take a left before Margaret Roding towards Wilingales, and then another left about a mile down the road. The farm next door has the key.’

  ‘I might just give you a kiss when I get back.’

  ‘I don’t think there’s any need to threaten me.’

  She ended the call.

  ‘Well, what are you waiting for? Get going.’

  ‘Where?’

  ‘Stop being a dork. You know where – the church.’

  Stick leaned across Xena, and pulled the map out of the glove compartment.

  ‘Will you stop mauling me like a pervert?’

  ‘You could have helped.’ He opened up the map and tried to find the Berners Roding church. ‘It’s not marked on here.’

  ‘Which means what?’

  ‘If it’s been abandoned since the 1980s, the anointing oil won’t be distributed to this church. Which means, it’s not the place the MAPs are torturing their victims.’

  ‘Crap! Don’t say that. There must be another answer.’

  ‘Another answer might be that the anointing oil has nothing to do with where the torturing is taking place.’

  ‘A spurious piece of evidence.’

  ‘Not necessarily. Maybe the anointing oil belongs to a priest, or someone else from another church, which is marked on the map.’

  ‘You think one of the MAPs is a priest?’

  ‘I didn’t say that. You put words into my mouth like confetti.’

  ‘Hmmm! We’ve been relying on that one piece of evidence all this time, and it might very well be a red herring.’

  ‘We’ve seen the gas meter in the video, but there’s no guarantee that Erin found the right gas meter. If you recall, there was some question over the serial number. Maybe she got the number wrong. Maybe...’

  ‘Stop saying “Maybe”, baby. The only way to find out is to go there.’

  ‘What about the second Mrs John Smith?’

  ‘We’ll call in there on the way back.’

  Xena’s phone activated again.

  She waved Stick forward as she answered it.

  ‘We have another hit.’

  ‘You’re pulling my...’

  ‘If you had one, I wouldn’t touch it with a pair of extendable tongs.’

  She waved for Stick to stop and get his notebook out.

  ‘Are your officers going to say all eight are hits just to spite me?’

  ‘This will be the last one.’

  ‘How do you know that?’

  ‘Because it’s the last one.’

  ‘Well, I have to say, Ma’am, that the first one was a waste of our time.’

  ‘Under the Consumer Protection Act, if you’re unhappy with the service, I’ll refund one bottle of Grolsch.’

  ‘More like a crate.’

  ‘Don’t say I didn’t offer. Do you want the details, or not?’

  ‘Go on, but I’d better not get any more.’

  Inspector Threadneedle passed the information over. ‘That’s it, our business is concluded. Have a good one.’

  The call ended.

  ‘Another one? John Smith must have one of those faces.’

  ‘I’m sure Threadneedle... fancy being called that, eh! Anyway, I bet you a pound of shit she’s just doing it to wind us up. Are we going to sit here for the rest of the day, or are you going to pull your finger out of your anus and get going?’

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  ‘I can’t,’ Richards said.

  ‘Of course you can.’

  ‘No, no, I can’t. If I walk on that stage – in front of all these people – I’ll wet myself, and then faint.’

  ‘You won’t.’

  ‘I will. You’ll have to give it.’

  ‘But it’s not my presentation.’

  ‘A monkey could give it.’

  ‘You’ll need to visit the zoo if you want a monkey to take your place.’

  ‘So, he’d had half an hour to familiarise himself with Richards’ presentation. She was right though, it was mainly pictures, and she’d made a few notes.

  ‘Ladies and gentlemen,’ one of the administrative people said over the loudspeaker system, ‘The final speakers today are Detective Inspector Jed Parish and his partner Constable Mary Richards from Essex Police Force in the United Kingdom.’

  There was muted clapping.

  ‘Come on then.’

  ‘I’ll just sit here, thank you.’

  Parish shook his head as he climbed the steps up to the stage. He slipped the memory stick into the laptop everybody else had used.

  ‘You’ve probably noticed that I’m on my own up here. My partner – Constable Mary Richards – is sitting down there...’ He pointed a finger to approximately five rows from the front. ‘Stand up, Mary Richards,’ he called.

  The audience began clapping.

  She mouthed something to him, which he guessed wasn’t, “Thank you”, and stood up. She swivelled round, smiled a bit, and then sat back down.

  ‘She’s petrified, but that’s all right, because this is her presentation. I did prepare my own presentation called “Serial Killers in a Multicultural Context”, but let me tell you from someone who knows – it was boring...’

  There was a smattering of laughter.

  ‘...And a lot of the content has already been touched on by previous speakers. So, what have I got for you now? Well, all I can say is that it’s a good job the members of the BAU aren’t here, because I’m going to tell you about one of their active investigations here in Richmond, Virginia, which is why they’re not here by the way.’

  He had their attention, and he could see people shifting forward in their seats.

  ‘Richards and I arrived on Tuesday. I also brought my wife, my baby son, and my nanny. Why? Well, that’s another serial killer story that I’m not going to tell you about today. In the early hours of Wednesday morning our nanny was suffocated...’

  There were gasps of horror as he brought up the photograph of the dead Alicia Mae.

  ‘Yes, we were a bit shocked as well. As it turned out, the murderer was a serial killer called The Painter, which the BAU knew all about, but had been unable to catch. Now, he’s called The Painter, because he arranges his victims in specific poses with items that he brings with him, and then spends a couple of hours painting them.’

  He slowly flicked through the photographs of the victims, that Richards had scanned from the files.


  ‘Up to now, he has killed five women, but I expect the BAU are out there investigating a sixth victim. They are all young and beautiful, but otherwise there are no other similarities. My guess is that he’s choosing them as a painter would choose a model. He has a picture of the woman he wants in his mind, and he keeps looking until he finds what he wants.’

  ‘What are the poses about?’ someone shouted.

  ‘Be patient. Let me first of all tell you about my partner, Mary Richards...’

  He saw Richards shaking her head, and her face began to burn like the sun.

  ‘I found Mary Richards on my first murder case...’ He told them briefly how they’d met, and their history to date. ‘Mary Richards is a serial killer’s nightmare. She reads about serial killers, watches television programmes about serial killers, and dreams about serial killers. If you’re an average guy looking for a date with Mary Richards, you’ll be wasting your time. So, when she asked Harry – Harrison Smedley of the BAU – for copies of the files relating to The Painter’s victims, I knew they were going to wish they’d never heard of Mary Richards.’

  The Painter’s photofit face appeared on the screen.

  ‘On the night our nanny was murdered, Mary recalled a camera flashing, so she told Harry about it. His people found out who’d been taking the pictures on the night and obtained copies. Mary picked The Painter out, but they were only partial shots. The BAU also had a CCTV security DVD from one of the crime scenes. Mary persevered through it, and found that The Painter had changed back from his female disguise to a man, and the BAU were able to add another aspect of his face. This is who they’re looking for.’

  He couldn’t hear anyone breathing, but saw Richards give him a secret thumbs up.

  ‘Remember those items The Painter brings with him, and places on the corpse before he paints them?’ He saw some heads nodding. ‘Well, the BAU thought they were cryptic clues, but even their best people couldn’t decipher what they were. Mary Richards has found what The Painter is painting – the Nine Muses from Ancient Greece, the source of knowledge, the goddesses of literature, science and the arts.’

  A picture appeared on the screen.

  ‘This is Calliope, the muse of epic poetry. Notice the writing tablet, which is the emblem of this muse.’

  A second picture appeared alongside Calliope.

  ‘This is the first victim. In her hand she has a writing tablet, and has been arranged to resemble Calliope.’

  Another muse appeared.

  ‘Clio, the muse of history. In her hand a scroll.’

  A photograph of the second victim appeared alongside. He didn’t say anything. The resemblance was there for all to see.

  A third muse appeared.

  ‘Erato, the muse of love poetry. In her hand a Cithara – a type of guitar.’

  The third victim popped up alongside.

  The fourth muse.

  ‘Euterpe, the muse of music. In her hand a flute.’

  The picture of the fourth victim appeared alongside.

  ‘And this is where we came in. The fifth muse – Melpomene, is the muse of tragedy. On her face a tragic mask, and in her hand a knife.’ Alicia Mae’s picture appeared on the screen beside the muse.

  The picture changed. ‘If Richards is right, the victim the BAU is attending now is Polyhymnia – the muse of choral poetry – she will wear a veil, and have a hymn book in her hand.’

  Slowly, the pictures changed.

  ‘After today there could be another three victims. Terpsichore, the muse of dance – her emblems are the lyre and the tambourine; Thalia, the muse of comedy, with a comic mask as her emblem; and Urania, the muse of astronomy, who has the globe and compass as her emblems.’

  A tenth picture appeared on the screen. ‘Now, I said there could be another three, but there might be a tenth muse. This is a picture of the poet Sappho of Lesbos, who was called “the tenth muse” by Plato.’

  The screen went blank.

  ‘And that concludes Mary Richards’ presentation. Stand up and give a bow Richards.’

  She covered her face with her hands.

  There was uproarious applause and cheering.

  Once the noise had died down, a man stood up. ‘I’ve seen that face before.’

  Parish had taken his memory stick from the laptop, and was just about to leave the stage. ‘Oh?’

  ‘In the entrance of the Sarah Monteith Art Galleries, there’s a picture of the current owner, Calvin Lyle. That’s him.’

  He took out his phone and rang Harry.

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘Harry, it’s Jed Parish. I think we’ve just solved your case for you.’

  ***

  They arrived at All Saints Church in Berners Roding at quarter to four, but had to wait ten minutes for back-up to arrive. There was no car park, and no access from the road beyond the church boundary to vehicles. They had to park on the road, and walk along an overgrown path.

  ‘We’ve hardly got surprise on our side, have we?’ Xena complained as they were sitting in the car waiting.

  ‘If there was anyone here to surprise I’m sure we’d have seen them by now. This church is in the middle of nowhere. There are no vehicles here.’

  Xena’s nose wrinkled up. ‘That you can see. They could have gained access another way, and hidden them in the woods somewhere.’

  ‘Let’s go and look, shall we?’ Stick said, getting out of the car.

  ‘We should wait for back-up.’

  ‘You’re not scared are you, Sarge?’

  ‘Don’t be stupid.’

  ‘Come on then. There’s nobody here.’

  ‘It’s getting dark.’

  ‘There are torches in the boot.’

  They helped themselves to a torch each from the boot and approached the church through a broken wooden gate.

  It was a fourteenth century tile and brick building. There was a wooden turret with a bell, the entrance was half brick and half wood, and it had a tiled roof.

  ‘It looks dark inside,’ Xena said.

  ‘I don’t suppose there are any electric lights in there.’

  The graveyard was overgrown, and there were two large fir trees as well as a number of old graves in the cemetery. As far they could see, there were no other buildings close by. The sky was dark and menacing, and the surrounding trees were swaying precariously in the wind.

  They walked around the back of the church. There were long brick arched windows – in one window the glass had been broken. There were no vehicles, and no evidence that any had driven around the side or back of the church. In the far corner of the graveyard was evidence of a badger sett, and human bones were visible. Eventually, they found themselves back at the front entrance.

  ‘Should we go inside?’ Stick asked.

  ‘We’ll wait for back-up.’

  ‘It does look a bit scary, doesn’t it?’

  ‘You think I’m scared, don’t you?’

  ‘I never would.’

  ‘Yes, you would. Well let me tell you, smartarse Stickamundo – under European health and safety legislation I’m responsible for your physical safety. If we went in there – against all the police guidelines by the way – and you got hurt... Well, you could sue the arse off me. Also, not only would I get the sack, but I wouldn’t get my promotion either. So, we’re not going...’

  ‘They’re here now, so we can go in. Are you going first, or should I?’

  ‘You can go first.’

  ‘Hi guys,’ she said to the two uniforms who strolled up. ‘Names?’

  ‘Charles Smith and Fran Antrobus,’ the man said.

  ‘Okay Charlie...’

  ‘No sorry, Sarge, it’s Charles. I’m a bit of a stickler when it comes to my names. If you don’t call me Charles – my given name by the way – then I won’t answer.’

  ‘He’s right,’ Fran Antrobus said. ‘He won’t answer unless...’

  ‘How about we call you Constable Smith?’ Xena said.

  ‘That wo
rks,’ Smith said.

  Fran Antrobus nodded. ‘Yes, he’ll answer to that all right. Can’t hardly...’

  ‘Thank you, Constable Antrobus...’

  ‘Oh, you don’t have to call me...’

  ‘When you’ve quite finished. I’d like to take a look inside this church before the full moon brings out the vampires and werewolves, if that’s okay with you two?’

  The two of them grinned.

  ‘Good. DC Gilbert will lead, followed by Constable Antrobus, then me, and Constable Smith can bring up the rear.’

  Everybody nodded.

  ‘Lead the way,’ she said to Stick.

  In her haste to get here, she’d forgotten about the key being held at the farm next door, but the door had been left open.

  The church was empty except for the rotting pulpit, the hymn board hanging on the wall, and two kneelers. The pews had been ripped out, and in one corner stood a rusting old oil fire. The floor boards on the left side of the church were rotting. At the far end was a door.

  ‘I’m not feeling optimistic, Sarge.’

  ‘You never are. Open the door.’

  Concrete stairs led downwards into the cold damp darkness.

  ‘Keep going,’ Xena said to him.

  ‘Are you sure?’

  ‘No, we’ll stay up here and watch the barn owl catching mice, shall we? Get your arse down there, numpty.’

  They snaked down the steps into the darkness. There was a chair in the centre of the room, and a tripod for a video camera.

  Xena found the gas meter, and pointed it out to Stick.

  ‘This looks like the place,’ Stick said. ‘But there’s nobody here.’

  ‘I’m astounded by your powers of observation. Any ideas what we should do next?’

  ‘Hide? Wait for them to show up?’

  ‘Don’t you think they’ll spot us as soon as they shine their torches?’

  ‘Possibly.’

  ‘Definitely. Right, everybody out.’

  Outside the church it was as dark as midnight, and clear that they were in for a stormy night.