by Tim Ellis
‘And Peter Rushdon?’
‘I have been convinced that the murders are related to Beech Tree Orphanage, which, as you know, Rushdon Property Management own, and Peter Rushdon owns Rushdon Property Management. At first we had to get a warrant to gain access to the orphanage, but we were prevented from entering by a High Court injunction. Now, Peter Rushdon, for whatever reason, has agreed to act as our tour guide.’
Emma Potter from the Redbridge Times stood up. ‘When you say that the murders are related to Beech Tree Orphanage, what exactly do you mean by that, Inspector?’
‘We think that the whole case revolves around child abuse at the orphanage during the 1980s. Certain evidence has been found, which suggests we are dealing with a group of paedophiles.’
‘Are you any closer to identifying a suspect, Inspector?’ Catherine Cox asked.
He decided he had nothing to lose. ‘I am hoping to arrest the killer within the next forty-eight hours.’ If he didn’t, he wouldn’t have a job anyway. ‘Now, I have to conclude the briefing for today; it has taken considerably longer than I expected, thanks to Miss Cox’s revelations.’
Catherine Cox smiled. ‘You’re welcome, Inspector.’
He smiled back. ‘Same time tomorrow for round two.’
Outside in the corridor he leaned against the wall and closed his eyes. His heart pounded in his ears.
‘Are you all right, Sir?’
‘No, I’m not, Richards.’
She passed him a steaming coffee.
‘Thanks. It was harrowing. I feel like I’ve been experimented on by aliens.’
‘Have you got a chip in your neck?’
‘You didn’t get that off the Crime Channel, did you?’
‘Scully in the X-Files has a chip…’
‘Stop talking, Richards.’
‘Sorry, Sir.’
They set off back to the squad room, but before they got there, Richards touched his arm. ‘I didn’t like sleeping in the house on my own last night.’
‘How is that any of my concern?’
‘You could come and live with us.’
‘Are you out of your mind?’
‘My mum would like it.’
‘I’m not having this conversation with you.’
‘Yes you are.’
‘Since when have you been giving the orders?’
‘Since you took my mum away from me.’
‘You were the one that threw us together.’
Tears sprouted from her eyes. ‘Yes, but I wanted us to be a family. Instead you’ve taken my mum away.’
He put his arm around her shoulders. ‘I haven’t taken your mum anywhere, Richards.’
‘I never see her because she’s always with you. If you lived at our house I could see you both.’
As usual he tried to be flippant, but it didn’t work. ‘You should get yourself a man. Go out with Toadstone; he’ll look after you.’
‘I don’t want a man – I want my mum.’ She ran down the corridor and into the ladies toilet.
Oh shit! Now what was he going to do? This was what he’d been afraid of. What choices did he have? He could finish with Angie. That was hardly an option when he’d told her last night how much he loved her. And he doubted it would save his partnership with Richards if he did that. He could send Richards back to Cheshunt. She’d be back on the beat instead of a trainee detective. That would destroy Richards. It would also destroy his relationship with Angie, and he’d no doubt have to keep seeing Richards if he were still seeing Angie. Or, he could move in with both of them. He’d end up seeing Richards twenty-four hours a day. She’d move out sometime, though; she’d find a man, settle down. Would moving in with them work? He had manoeuvred himself into such a position that the choice had already been made for him and, if he was being honest, it was what he wanted.
He stuck his head in the ladies. ‘All right, Richards.’
PC Heather Walsh came out of the inner door and gave him a look of disgust.
‘All right what?’ Richards asked.
‘All right – let’s go and see the Chief, and I’ll move in with you and your mother.’
Richards bolted out of the door and hugged him. People passing by gave them strange looks.
‘Will you put me down? This is not the way partners behave.’
‘Sorry.’
‘And you’re not to say anything to your mum.’
‘Why not? I think she’ll notice you snoring next to her sooner or later.’
‘Oh yes, very droll. Do you realise how strange all this is? The daughter asking her mother’s boyfriend to move in? Your mum and I have to discuss it before you start blabbing all over Chigwell.’
‘Okay. You’ll speak to her soon, though, won’t you?’
‘Tonight.’
***
‘What have you done, Parish?’ Walter Day said as Parish and Richards strolled into his room at ten to ten. The Chief was looking much better. He had colour in his cheeks and the look of defeat had gone from his eyes.
‘Me, Sir? Are you referring to the case?’
‘You know damn well I’m referring to CI Naylor.’
Richards stared at him. ‘Yes, what have you done?’
‘It was either him or me, Chief.’
‘You should have spoken to me first.’
‘I think you’ve got enough to worry about without me coming to you about CI Naylor.’
‘You don’t understand, Parish. He’s a dangerous man. There’s a fine line between a policeman and a criminal. Naylor has crossed that line so many times he could have spent his career in prison, but instead he blackmailed people into protecting him.’
‘What are you saying?’
‘I’m saying you’ve made yourself an enemy who doesn’t play by the rules. He’ll either kill you or end your career.’
Parish shrugged. ‘Well, it’s too late to do anything about it now. I’ll just have to keep looking over my shoulder.’
‘And under your bed, in the cellar, behind the sofa…’
‘I get the idea. Anyway, you’re looking a million percent better.’
‘I didn’t have a choice. The Chief Constable came to see me late last night to tell me what you’d sent him, what he’d done about it, and that I had to stop taking things easy and get back to work.’
Richards put her hands on her hips as if she would have taken the Chief Constable to task if he’d been standing in the room. ‘But…’
‘It’s all right, Richards; the Chief Constable and I are old friends. We talked about CI Naylor and I was coming back to work tomorrow anyway. If you’d only have waited, Parish.’
‘It wasn’t necessarily about me, Chief. The man was a bully and I decided to do something about him. I don’t like bullies, never have.’
‘Well, you’ll end up paying for it sooner or later. Naylor never forgets people who cross him. Anyway, enough about Naylor. I saw you on the news earlier. Now, forgive me if I’m not fully in the picture, Parish, but didn’t you say you’ll be arresting someone tomorrow?’
‘Yes, Sir.’
‘Anyone particular in mind?’
‘Hopefully the killer, Chief.’
‘Hopefully?’
‘Well, as I see it, I either find the killer tomorrow or I’m out of a job anyway.’
‘You remind me of the Japanese kamikaze pilots in the Second World War. It’s not even been two weeks yet. You’re doing what all good detectives do, which is collect evidence until a breakthrough occurs.’
‘There’s been five murders and a suicide.’
‘And each death has added to the evidence you’ve been collecting. If a killer doesn’t want to be found then there’s only so much you can do. As I said to you, the Chief Constable is really impressed by the way you’ve gone about this investigation, but God only knows what he’s going to think about your statement to the press. I should imagine that if you don’t find the killer by tomorrow night, you will be out of a job. No luck with the mari
juana then?’
‘What with one thing and another…’
‘So, tell me why Parish feels so optimistic, Richards.’
‘I’m glad you’re feeling better, Chief.’
‘They call it a remission. I’m keeping my fingers crossed it’s going to be long term.’
‘We had a phone call from Peter Rushdon. We’re meeting him at four o’clock today and he’s going to let us into Beech Tree Orphanage and give us a guided tour.’
‘At last. See, Parish, patience is its own reward. Go on, Richards.’
‘We found explicit photographs of young boys in Graham Pearson’s house and a hidden cellar with terrible things relating to children in Martin Squires’ house. Then we found out that Colin Jackson was really Evan Hughes who had been convicted of kidnapping and abusing an eight-year-old boy. They were all paedophiles, Sir.’
‘Just because they are paedophiles now doesn’t mean they were then.’
‘We think it does, Sir. Pearson also had a key to a safe-deposit box, which we’re going to open this afternoon before we see Rushdon, and he was being paid £5,000 a month by Martin Squires at Redbridge Council.’
‘I can see why you’re feeling optimistic, Parish, but just because you know the why doesn’t necessarily give you the who. Throughout this investigation you haven’t had a single suspect. What now?’
Parish answered. ‘I’m hoping there are still records in Beech Tree Orphanage.’
The Chief gave a strangled laugh and then took a sip of orange juice. ‘After twenty-four years? If there was something going on there, the records would have been destroyed when the place closed.’
‘Let’s wait and see, shall we?’
‘What do you think Pearson kept in a safe-deposit box, Richards?’
‘Evidence, Sir. He was the manager; whatever was going on in Beech Tree Orphanage, he must have known about it and was probably involved in it. I think he kept his insurance policy in the box and used it to blackmail Squires into paying him money each month.’
‘She’s getting good, Parish.’
‘Don’t say that, Chief – I’ll never hear the last of it.’
‘You know you should be getting Vice involved in this investigation now.’
Parish cupped his ear like a profoundly deaf person. ‘I’m sorry, Chief. I didn’t quite catch that.’
‘Oh well, you’ll either be a hero tomorrow or the Chief Constable will tell me to put you in charge of the recycling initiative and the case will be given to Vice.’
‘Say goodbye to the Chief, Richards and wait outside for me.’
Richards kissed the Chief on the cheek. ‘I’ll see you tomorrow, Sir.’
‘Good to see you’re doing so well, Richards.’
After Richards had gone out, Parish said, ‘I’m concerned about Kowalski, Sir.’ He told the Chief what had happened in the squad room last night.
‘Thanks for that, Parish. I’ll talk to him tomorrow; see about sending him for counselling or something.’
‘I’m glad, Sir. Kowalski’s an ass, but he’s a damned good copper.’
‘I agree. Now, are you going to procrastinate the day away in here or go out and arrest somebody?’
‘See you tomorrow, Chief.’ Parish squeezed his arm. ‘I’m glad you’re back in the saddle.’
‘Get out, Parish, before I burst into tears.’
Chapter Twenty-Five
It was ten forty-five when they left the Chief’s room. Parish told Richards to wait in the car while he did something else and was surprised when she didn’t ask what he was going to do. He then went up to the hospital restaurant on the third floor and bought a bag of chocolate donuts, which he delivered to Doc Michelin in the mortuary. Unfortunately, the pathologist wasn’t in so Parish left the donuts in the middle of his stainless steel post-mortem table like body parts in a bag.
It was quarter past eleven when he returned to the car. Richards had the heater blowing on the penultimate setting with her coat on. Parish could have toasted hot-cross buns in the car if he’d had any with him.
‘I’m all for keeping warm,’ he said when he’d climbed into the Mondeo, turned down the heater to the first setting and opened the window to let some cold air in, ‘but this is taking it too far.’
She didn’t say anything, but pulled out of the car park and headed west on the A12.
‘Why have you started moving? I haven’t told you where we’re going yet.’
‘My house – to see my mum. You won’t be able to talk to her tonight because she’s back on night duty and we’ve got two hours before we have to be at the CPS offices.’
‘You think you have it all worked out, don’t you?’
‘Yes.’
‘Well, let me tell you, young lady, that I know when I’m being manipulated.’
‘Oh?’
‘You’re used to sleeping alone in the house because your mum is on night duty every other week.’
She grinned. ‘I’d forgotten about that.’
‘As if.’
He knew damn well he was dancing to Richards’ tune, but if it made her happy, then he was happy to go along with it. Wasn’t it what he’d wanted all along – a family? Going home to the warmth and laughter of a home was definitely preferable to parking himself in the cold garage of his flat. Yes, it would take some getting used to. He’d been his own man for so long with no responsibilities and had looked after himself without thinking about the consequences for other people. Now, he’d have to think before he did everything. He certainly wouldn’t be able to fart when he felt like it, would have to clean up as soon as he’d made a mess, would have to ask whether anyone wanted the last chocolate eclair before he stuffed it in his mouth. Yes, things would be very different.
‘Are you sure this is what your mum wants, and it’s not just about what you want?’
‘My mum and I are best friends. We tell each other everything.’
‘Everything?’
‘Everything.’
‘I don’t know whether I like that, Richards.’
‘It’s all good, Sir.’
‘Oh, that’s all right then.’
‘I knew when my mum met you she’d fall in love with you, and she has. You’re the man my father would have been if he hadn’t been murdered.’
‘So, I’m a replacement for your father?’
‘It’s been a long time since I needed a father, but every now and again I’d like someone to hug me and say everything will be all right.’
‘I’m beginning to fill up.’
‘And my mum has been without a man for so long I thought we’d never find anyone that would be good enough.’
‘You’ve known me for less than two weeks. I could be the Ilford axe murderer or a vampire for all you know.’
‘They caught the Ilford axe murderer – I saw it on the Crime Channel. And vampires don’t come out during the day.’
Richards pulled up in the slush outside her house. Suddenly he felt nervous.
‘Your mum might say no.’
‘I’ve already phoned her; she knows we’re coming.’
‘Don’t I get a say in this?’
‘No. You shouldn’t have made my mum fall in love with you. Now you have to face up to the consequences.’
He followed Richards into her house. Angie was standing in the hall waiting for him.
They held each other tight and kissed. Richards disappeared into the kitchen.
‘Are you sure you want a man in your house, Angie?’
‘I’m sure,’ she said. ‘If only to shut Mary up.’
‘Oh, so it’s her idea?’
‘It’s what we both want, Jed.’
‘When?’
‘Sunday.’
‘I’ll begin packing.’
‘Coffee in here,’ Richards called from the kitchen.
He walked through with his arm around Angie’s waist. ‘I hope…’
‘. . .No. There are only three sugars in this coffee. You�
�ll have to start eating and drinking properly now that you have two good women looking after you.’
‘And so it begins,’ he said, wrapping his hands around the proffered mug. But he felt something that he had never felt before.
***
After a lunch of pasta salad, which he thought was probably the worst meal he’d ever eaten, they set off towards the CPS offices at Orange Tree Hill in Havering-atte-Bower and arrived at exactly one thirty.
Juliette Langley was waiting for them.
‘You do realise that opening up somebody’s safe-deposit box goes against everything democracy stands for,’ she said even before they’d sat down and helped themselves to the coffee and biscuits.
Richards was quick to jump in. ‘The man was a paedophile, and anyway he’s dead, Ms Langley.’
‘Being a paedophile does not nullify a person’s rights, Constable Richards.’
‘Well, it should.’
‘What about you, Inspector? Are you standing next to the Constable on the extreme right with a noose in your hand?’
‘I’m not far away.’
‘So, before I sign this infringement of rights, tell me why I should.’
Richards described what they’d found in Pearson’s house and in the hidden cellar beneath Martin Squires’ idyllic cottage in Abridge. She told the barrister about how Peter Rushdon had phoned Parish and agreed to let them into Beech Tree Orphanage and show them round. And she put forward her theory of blackmail as if it were fact concerning the amounts of money both Ridpath and Pearson were paid by Martin Squires.
‘All right, I’m willing to sign the warrant, but it had better not come back to bite me on the backside. If it does, I’ll never trust either of you again.’
Richards smiled at her small success. ‘Don’t worry, Ms Langley – no one is going to come in here and bite your bum.’
***