Be Not Afraid (9781301650996)

by Ellis, Tim

  ‘A fat lot of good that will do now,’ Xena said.

  Colville pulled a face. ‘Exactly. Until a new Chief Constable is appointed...’

  Stick grinned. ‘One that doesn’t like to be whipped by women in PVC boots, and....’

  ‘Yes, thank you, DC Gilbert... Well Blake, I’m afraid no promotion decisions will be taken... Sorry.’

  ‘It’s all right, I guessed as much.’

  ‘And I suspect that when they do appoint a new Chief Constable, Chief Kowalski will be back behind this desk.’

  Stick sat forward. ‘But you’ll make your recommendations on paper, so that there’s some record?’

  ‘Yes, I’ll do that Gilbert. I hope you appreciate what a good partner you’ve got there, Sergeant Blake?’

  ‘Oh, I do, Ma’am.’

  ‘What about you, Gilbert? What do you want out of all this?’

  ‘Me? I’m just happy working with Sergeant Blake, Ma’am.’

  ‘There you are then. We’ll I’m going back home to my family now, and I suppose you’ll be going home to bed?’

  ‘We’ve still got the Smith case to solve,’ Xena said, but bed sounded really enticing. It was Sunday, after all.

  ‘That’s the work ethic that will get you your promotion, Blake. I’ll see you both tomorrow then.’

  As they walked back along the corridor to the squad room Xena said, ‘I don’t know what you’re after, but you’re not getting it.’

  ‘I’m not after anything, Sarge.’

  ‘People are always after something, and that includes you. I just don’t know what it is yet, but I’ll find out before long, or my name isn’t Renee Zellweger.’

  ***

  Harry had ignored them so far.

  ‘Do you think we’ve committed any crime?’ Richards said.

  The day was about to start. They were sitting in the audience slouched down trying to look inconspicuous.

  ‘I think you have, but I’m as innocent as a new-born baby.’

  ‘I’m quite sure you weren’t even innocent then.’

  ‘They have some strange laws in America, you know. In California, it’s illegal to peel an orange in a hotel room, and in Texas, it’s illegal to take more than three sips of beer while standing. So, it might very well be illegal in Virginia to solve a BAU case without specific authorisation from the President of the local fishing club.’

  ‘Ladies and gentlemen,’ Harry said. ‘Good morning, and welcome to the second day. From the feedback I’ve received, I understand that the first day was a success...’

  There was reasonably loud applause.

  ‘...And the day ended with a bit of bang, I hear.’

  There was cheering, and even louder applause.

  ‘Uh oh!’ Richards said.

  ‘I’m going to lay the blame completely at your door. I’ll promise never to bring you to America again... Well, except to take you to Disneyland, of course, but...’

  ‘As soon as I saw Detective Inspector Jed Parish and Constable Mary Richards, I knew they were going to be more trouble than an alligator with a sore head...’

  There was polite laughter.

  ‘You’ll be pleased to know that thanks to their help, we now have The Painter in custody. There’s no doubt he’s our man, because we found the paintings of his victims hanging in his home. So, on behalf of my team at the BAU, I’d like to thank them officially, and ask them to come up onto the stage to accept an award.’

  Everybody began clapping, and turned to stare at them.

  ‘Oh God! You’re not going to make me go up on that stage, are you?’

  ‘Get your arse moving, Richards. This is what you came for. Now you’ll be able to apply to join the FBI. You’ll be able to chase serial killers all over America.’

  On the stage, Harry shook their hands, and presented each of them with certificates stating that they were honorary members of the BAU – signed by the current Director of the FBI – Robert Mueller, and a gold FBI badge.

  ‘It was either that, or ship them back across the pond as unwanted aliens.’

  Everyone laughed at his joke, but Parish had a feeling that Harry wasn’t joking. Richards wanted to stay on the stage and pose for more photographs, but he nudged her towards steps. ‘Get going, Little Miss Celebrity.’

  ‘We’re both celebrities.’

  ‘I was already a celebrity. You’re just hanging onto my shirttails.’

  She wrinkled her nose up. ‘No thank you. God knows what you’ve got going on back there with what you eat.’

  ‘Shush, the first speaker is on.’

  ***

  Mrs Rebecca Jamieson lived at 56 Ollard’s Grove on the outskirts of Loughton.

  They arrived at eleven-twenty.

  Xena had dropped off to sleep more or less as soon as they’d started off.

  Stick nudged her. ‘We’re here.’

  There was dribble on her chin, and it had slobbered all down her top. ‘Christ,’ she said wiping the saliva off, ‘I feel as though somebody has used my tongue to clean the public toilets. You haven’t...?’

  ‘I never would.’

  ‘Remember, I’m watching you.’

  ‘You were asleep. And I think I should mention that you were snorting and grunting like a family of pigmy pigs.’

  ‘You really know how to treat a lady.’

  ‘Where?’

  ‘Don’t worry, as soon as I get my promotion you’re history.’

  ‘By the looks of things, that could be a long time.’

  ‘Right, let’s go and see what this Mrs Jamieson has got to say for herself. The sooner we eliminate the two women from our enquiries, the sooner we can get home and go to bed... On our own, numpty.’

  ‘I didn’t say anything.’

  ‘And anyway, I know I’ll be on my own, but what about you? There’s still the small matter of that girlfriend you mentioned...’

  ‘Girlfriend? Me? I think you’re confused.’

  The door opened.

  Xena showed her warrant card to the blonde-haired woman. ‘Mrs Jamieson?’

  ‘Yes. You’re here about Rufus, aren’t you?’

  ‘We’d certainly like to see some photographs of Rufus.’

  ‘Please come in.’ She showed them into a spacious living room. ‘Would you like a hot drink?’

  ‘Strong coffee would be good,’ Xena said, sitting down on a dark green three-seat sofa.

  There were pictures on the wall of a young married couple, an older couple, and a variety of pictures of three children.

  Stick stood up and went to look. He nodded. ‘It’s him,’ he mouthed to her, and came and sat back down. ‘We’re in the right place.’

  ‘So you said. I’m struggling to wrap my head around the idea of a man with a good-looking wife, and three lovely children, killing and mutilating all those women. I expected to find a reclusive social misfit who lives alone.’

  Mrs Jamieson returned with a tray, and placed it on the coffee table. ‘Help yourself to milk and sugar, and there are some chocolate bourbons as well.’

  ‘Thank you,’ Xena said, picking up the mug of coffee, and helping herself to a biscuit. She was famished all of a sudden.

  Stick cleared his throat. ‘I was looking at the pictures on the wall of you and Rufus...’

  Mrs Jamieson laughed. ‘No, that’s not Rufus, that’s my husband Roscoe, they’re twins.’

  Xena closed her mouth before a bird began nesting in there. ‘And where’s your husband now?’

  ‘Oh, he’s at work. He’d kill me if he knew I was talking to you about Rufus.’

  ‘Really?’

  ‘Well no, not really, but he wouldn’t be happy. What’s Rufus meant to have done?’

  Xena was surprised that Mrs Jamieson hadn’t connected the dots of all the murdered women, and the picture of Rufus appearing on the television and in the newspapers. ‘Can you tell us where Rufus lives?’

  ‘He has a really old house he’s been renovating forever. It�
��s on Baldwin’s Hill right on the edge of Epping Forest. It used to be part of an old castle. The castle has gone, but the Keep is just about standing.’

  Xena pulled out the bunch of keys. ‘Do you recognise these?’

  ‘Yes, that big rusty one is the key to his dungeon. The others are for new doors in the Keep. He took us there and showed us all around once, when he’d first bought it. He found the dungeon when he began renovating, and the door still had the key in the lock. Even the estate agent who sold him the Keep didn’t know about the dungeon. You never answered me, what’s Rufus done?’

  ‘You know about the bodies of the women found in the house on Ivy Chimneys Road...?’

  ‘Yes, but...’ Her face drained of blood. ‘God, you don’t think...? You do, don’t you? You think Rufus is the man who killed all those poor women?’

  ‘I’m afraid he was taken into custody at the house, and at the same time that we discovered the bodies. There’s no doubt he killed all those women. The problem we’ve had, has been identifying him. Everything he had on him, and in his van, identified him as John Smith.’

  She kept shaking her head. ‘I don’t understand.’

  ‘What about Roscoe?’

  ‘They’re not close. Even though they’re identical twins, they don’t get on.’

  ‘What does your husband do?’

  ‘He’s the Assistant Manager at Epping United Football Club. They’re in the second division, and they’re playing away to Morecombe today.’

  ‘Can you tell me what you know about Rufus?’

  ‘We don’t see much of him. As I said, the two of them don’t get on. Rufus delivers things all over Europe, so he’s away a lot...’

  ‘Is he married?’

  ‘No, I don’t think he likes women. At least I’ve never heard of him being with a woman.’

  ‘No girlfriends?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Male friends?’

  ‘If he is, he keeps it to himself.’

  ‘That’s not what I meant. Does he have any friends that you know about?’

  ‘Sorry. I don’t know anything about his private life really.’

  ‘Have you ever heard of someone called Kev or Kevin?’

  ‘I think it might be someone who helps him deliver things sometimes. Kevin Beattie... I think that’s his name.’

  ‘You don’t know where he lives, or a telephone number?’

  ‘No, I’m sorry. That’s as much as I know.’

  ‘Are the twin’s parents still alive? Do they have any siblings?

  ‘The father died when they were young, and their mother about three years ago. There were no brothers or sisters.’

  ‘What about their childhood?’

  ‘As far as I know, it was a normal one. When I say “normal”, I mean as normal as any child’s these days. What I will say though is that they may look alike, but they’re completely different people. Usually, you get twins who think the same, know what the other is thinking, feels what the other is feeling – Roscoe and Rufus aren’t like that. It’s as if they’re different sides of the same coin. Roscoe is bright and happy, but Rufus is dark and moody. I love Roscoe... well, I have had three children with him... but I don’t like Rufus. I’m glad they don’t get on, because there’s always been something not quite right about him... Now, I know what.’

  ‘You’ve been very helpful, Mrs Jamieson. We’ll have to talk to you and your husband again, but for now we’ll leave you in peace. When will your husband return?’

  ‘Tomorrow afternoon.’

  ‘I’d be grateful if he could come to Hoddesdon Police Station and provide us with a detailed background for Rufus.’ She passed the woman a business card. ‘Say eleven o’clock. Tell him to ask for Sergeant Blake or DC Gilbert.’

  Xena and Stick stood up to leave.

  ‘I still can’t believe it,’ Mrs Jamieson said. ‘It just goes to show that you never really know anyone, do you?’

  Xena shrugged. ‘No, I don’t suppose you do.’

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  ‘Should we go?’ Richards said.

  They were sitting in the cafe on the reception concourse. The morning had gone as per the programme. Speaker after speaker giving their own perspective on serial killers – it was all very dry, and resembled an academic conference.

  Because they were ‘bunking off’ this afternoon they would miss the final two speakers, but the welcome pack they’d received had included a booklet incorporating everybody’s presentation, so they could read the details at their leisure.

  After being given honorary membership of the BAU, Harry had blanked them at lunch. Parish had the feeling that Richards had put their noses out of joint by single-handedly solving their case. Why pay half a dozen people or more extortionate salaries when one person could do the work and survive on a bowl of lettuce leaves?

  ‘We haven’t really discussed what we’re going to do when we get there.’

  ‘I thought we’d just stroll through the park like normal people, and see what happens.’

  ‘And that’s your plan?’

  ‘Have you got a better one?’

  ‘You have a lot to learn about planning an operation.’

  ‘Like what?’

  ‘Well, what do we do if things go wrong? Where will we meet afterwards? Do you know the number for the emergency services? What’s the back-up plan? How do we communicate if we get separated? Who has the authorisation to call the whole thing off? What about...?

  ‘There’s only the two of us.’

  ‘Maybe, if Alicia Mae was planning to meet someone, you can be Alicia Mae. I’ll sit on another bench and read a newspaper, while you’re enjoying the scenery.’

  ‘Oh God! That’s what they’re meant to say to each other. It’s a code word. They come up and say, “All is well”, and I reply by saying, “It is wonderful to be Santa Claus in March”.’

  ‘You don’t look anything like Santa Claus. Maybe you need a Santa outfit, so that you’ll be recognised.’

  ‘I don’t think so. Come on, otherwise we’ll be late.’

  They left the reception and hailed a yellow taxi outside.

  ‘Good afternoon,’ the driver said. ‘My name’s Sam Gilmour, where can I take you good people?’

  ‘Hello, Sam,’ Richards said. ‘Monroe Park, please.’

  ‘Did you know that the park is named after James Monroe the fifth President of the United States from 1817 to 1825?’

  Richards smiled. ‘No, we didn’t know that.’

  ‘Did you also know that we run feeding programmes for the homeless and needy in the park on Fridays and Saturdays, so don’t be surprised if you’re asked for the price of a cup of coffee?’

  ‘Thanks for letting us know.’

  ‘Hey, that’s why they call me “Sam the Man”.’

  ‘Do they?’

  ‘Well, no not really, but they could if they wanted to.’

  ‘Is there anything else we should know about the park?’

  ‘Two things, lady. First is that there’s a fountain in the centre, so you get your bearings, second is – we’re here.’

  ‘Thanks for your help, Sam,’ Richards said and gave him a twenty dollar note.

  ‘You given me way too much here, lady.’

  ‘That’s all right. You treat yourself on me.’

  ‘I surely will. God bless you, and may the sun shine down on you...’

  Parish shut the door. ‘God he could talk the hind leg off a donkey.’

  ‘I thought he was nice.’

  He checked his watch. ‘It’s ten to three. It’s a shame the message didn’t say where to meet. The park looks as though it’s fairly big.’

  ‘I think the fountain would be a good place.’

  The sky was gun-metal grey, the wind was blowing the leaves in swirls, and the temperature wasn’t far off freezing.

  Parish pulled his jacket collar up against the wind, and also because he was incognito. ‘I’ll go first, you follow me.
Stay in sight, and don’t do anything stupid.’

  ‘Define stupid.’

  ‘Going off on your own.’

  ‘No, I won’t do that.’

  He set off at a brisk pace, and then glanced back over his shoulder. Richards wasn’t there. He turned around, but couldn’t see her, so he went back to the entrance. She was buying something from a mobile vendor.

  ‘What do you think you’re doing?’

  ‘I thought I’d try some honey roasted chickpeas to eat on the way.’

  ‘If you deviate from the plan again, I’m going to take you straight back to the hotel and ground you for the rest of the trip.’

  Richards laughed. ‘You sound like my dad. Aren’t you meant to be in the park by now? We’ve got five minutes before three o’clock. I’ll have to go first. You follow me.’

  She set off through the park gates and headed towards the fountain in the distance.

  He followed at a reasonable distance, but then thought that if they were just two people who didn’t know each other, and had decided to wander through the park at this time, then it didn’t really matter where he was in relation to her. Keeping a steady distance made it look as though he was following her, or worse. He quickened his pace slightly.

  She was sitting on a bench watching the pigeons drinking from the fountain. He didn’t look at her, but headed towards a bench two away from hers.

  Before he could get there he felt something hard pushed in his back, and a female voice behind him said, ‘Keep moving.’

  He carried on walking up the path beyond the fountain. He knew he was getting further and further away from Richards. Now what? He couldn’t just keep walking, but then he didn’t want to get shot either. He stopped.

  ‘Keep walking.’

  ‘I don’t think so. Who are you? What’s all this about.’

  ‘Special Agent Allison Wells. You’re interfering with our investigation, Detective Inspector Jed Parish.’

  Crap! Harry had taken note of the message. He should never have listened to Richards.

  ‘What about...?’

  The gun was removed from his back, and she linked his arm. ‘Let’s go and sit down over there.’ She indicated an empty bench.