by Simon Hall
Adam folded his arms. ‘Explain please,’ he said sharply.
‘OK. Look at the numbers.’
61, 43, 21, 51
‘And?’ said Adam, heavily.
‘There are a lot of ones. So I started to think about what classic games used numbers and contained plenty of ones.’ He looked at Dan, Claire, Adam in turn, clearly finding it difficult to believe they hadn’t got it. ‘Any thoughts?’
‘Battleships?’ asked Adam with a heavy slice of sarcasm.
‘No.’
‘I thought something to do with grid references,’ said Dan.
‘Nope,’ replied Michael. Dan noticed himself starting to feel annoyed too.
‘Scrabble,’ said Claire.
Michael looked at her and smiled, sounding relieved. ‘Correct. Scrabble.’
Adam frowned hard. ‘I’m sorry. You’re trying to tell us this blackmailer has set us a code in scrabble?’
‘That’s exactly what he’s done. It all adds up.’
The detective couldn’t keep the disbelief from his voice. ‘Sounds daft to me, but if you say so. OK then how do you read it?’
Michael picked up a pen. ‘In Scrabble, each letter has a score. The most common, like “a” and “e” only score one. The rarest, like “z” score 10. There are only a couple of letters that score 10. But there are quite a few which score one. So, to differentiate them, perhaps you’d label the first letter that scores one – a – as 11. The second – e – would be 21. The sixth to score one is “o”. So under this system, “o” would be coded as 61.
They stared at what Michael had written.
‘61,’ said Dan finally. ‘The first number in the sequence of the code.’
‘Yes,’ said Michael.
‘Spare us the rest of the lecture, please,’ grunted Adam, tetchily. ‘What’s the answer?’
‘61 is o, 43 is p, 21 is e and 51 is n.’
‘Open,’ said Claire. ‘The answer to the riddle is “open.”’
‘Yes,’ replied Michael, sitting back down on the edge of the desk.
There was a silence. ‘So,’ said Adam slowly. ‘We’ve got open and original. What does that mean? Open original? Original open? What does that mean? It doesn’t tell us anything. Not a bloody thing.’
No one replied. Adam stalked over to the window and stared out at the city. It was still alive with darting cabs and staggering revellers. Chinks and blocks of colour glowed from the shop windows. White floodlights illuminated Charles Church. The stark wash of cold white light made the ruin seem more hollow and lonely.
‘Not a bloody thing,’ said Adam again, slapping his palm on the window ledge in time with each word. ‘And here was I hoping for a breakthrough.’
Adam sent them home for the night. They had a short discussion about the code and what the answers they had could mean, but no one had any realistic ideas. Dan noticed they were becoming irritated with each other. It was getting on for midnight, and he could feel the weight of tiredness numbing his mind and body.
‘There’s nothing much else we can do tonight,’ Adam said. ‘We’ll need to start talking to Linda’s friends and going through all her personal stuff. We’ll have to put together a statement for the press as well. But the best thing we can do for now is get some rest. The first two blackmails have been close together. I don’t think we’ll have long to wait until the next one.’
In the car park, Dan and Claire had a quick chat. They slipped into a narrow gap between two police vans and she reached out to him for a cuddle.
‘I don’t want to sleep alone tonight,’ she said, her head pressed against his shoulder. ‘Not after what happened today with Linda. I know it’s late, but I wouldn’t mind sitting for an hour before we go to bed and having a chat, just to clear my mind.’
‘Sure. I’d like that that. Your place or mine?’
‘I’d prefer mine. I have to get some things ready for the morning.’
‘OK. I’ll have to go home first, see to Rutherford and get myself some clothes for the morning too. I’ll be at your place in half an hour.’
Rutherford was asleep when he got back to the flat. The dog looked dazed and his fur was sticking up on the side where he’d been lying. He managed a half-hearted bark.
‘Sorry to neglect you after our day out was cut short earlier, old friend,’ said Dan, cuddling him. ‘And I’ve got to go out again. Claire needs me tonight. I know you’ll understand. I’ll make it up to you next weekend, I promise. We’ll go for a good long walk on Dartmoor.’
Dan found some clean trousers and a shirt while Rutherford was in the garden. He sat on his bed to get some socks and pants out of a drawer, and felt a longing to lie back and close his eyes. They ached with tiredness. He forced himself to get up and splash some cold water on his face.
He drove back into the city and let himself into Claire’s flat. It was just after one o’clock. She was asleep on the sofa in the lounge, a blanket over her legs, her hands folded across her stomach. Her breathing was almost imperceptible, just butterflies of whispered air.
Dan quietly slipped into the bathroom and washed, then came back to check on her. Claire was still asleep. He put a hand on her shoulder and rocked her gently. Her eyes fluttered open and she looked at him, recognition gathering in her waking mind.
She smiled. ‘Sorry. I must have fallen asleep. I was so tired.’
He helped her up and said, ‘Come on then, proper sleep time for you. I’ve set the alarm for just before eight.’ They got into bed and she lay back on the pillow.
‘Guess you don’t need that chat to clear your mind then,’ Dan said, cuddling in to her and stroking the hair behind her ears. ‘Was it anything specific you wanted to talk about, or just more Agas and toast?’
‘Something like that,’ she replied. ‘It can wait until tomorrow.’
Chapter Ten
DAN WAS LOST IN the warm haze of a pleasant dream when he was yanked cruelly back into reality by the phone.
‘Hello?’ he managed, sleepy and startled.
‘It’s Adam. Get in here, quick as you can. And Claire as well. We’ve got the next note. Another cop’s the victim. Another bloody cop! But this time, I think we may have a break – a picture of the Worm. The media are all over us again too. We need to work out a strategy.’
The phone went dead. Beside him, Claire stirred and turned on to her side. Dan blinked at her alarm clock. Its red digits said half past six. He’d been asleep for only five hours and felt as though he hadn’t rested. The fleeting release wasn’t enough for rejuvenation. His legs ached in protest as he stretched them.
A fringe of early sunlight framed the curtains. Outside, he could hear the triumphant cries of a gang of seagulls, squealing in delight at the dawn and its rich feast of discarded take-away food from the night before. The sanctity of Sunday mornings was nothing to them. That was the trouble with Claire’s flat. It was much closer to the sea than his, and meant sleeping in was impossible. Not that that was even an option this morning.
Dan reached out and gently shook Claire’s shoulder. She mumbled something. He shook her again, a little harder this time. She turned and opened her eyes.
‘Work?’ she asked.
‘Yep.’
‘Yours or mine?’
‘Both.’
As so often, their two worlds were interconnected. Where the police were called, there were usually journalists following. Dan often thought of the similarities between their professions as the reason for his success as a detective. At a basic level, the arts were the same. Ask the right questions, read the reactions, spot the lies and evasions and pick your way to the hidden truth.
In the shower, he thought about Adam’s call. Another police victim. No wonder the detective sounded angry. The case must be starting to feel personal. How did an attack on another cop fit in with Linda and Freedman? Two police officers and an MP. Where was the pattern?
He borrowed a squirt of Claire’s special and expensive conditioning
shampoo. He must remember to leave some of his own here, to keep the blue sentinel toothbrush company. He kept forgetting shampoo every time he brought an overnight bag. But at least he felt as though he was waking up.
As he dressed, he wondered what Adam really thought about him and Claire being a couple. They’d agreed not to talk about it, but he couldn’t help but ask himself the question.
Adam was protective of his officers and well aware of Dan’s disastrous history with women. They’d talked about it often enough, particularly in those long-gone days when Adam was estranged from Annie. All that was resolved now, happily. Dan found himself hoping he’d one day be as content as Adam. But his friend must be worried about what could happen between him and Claire. Dan knew Adam was fond of Claire, thought of her as a perceptive and diligent detective with a promising future.
From the bathroom, he heard the buzz of Claire’s electric toothbrush. He smiled. He even found the way she cleaned her teeth cute. He must be enamoured.
Well, he didn’t have to worry about what Adam thought or what would become of his relationship with Claire. They were getting on great and would soon be moving in together. Dan felt his mood warm and his tiredness lift. Life was good, and he shouldn’t lose sight of that. If you went looking for problems and concerns, you could always find them. Better to live for now and appreciate what you had.
He walked into the kitchen to make them some toast. They’d need the energy. Another busy day was in prospect. Dan moved some of Claire’s discarded leftovers from the work surface. He’d half-heard her get up in the night, vaguely remembered she said something about needing a snack.
A chocolate wrapper, the remains of a banana, some oat flakes, raspberry jam, natural yoghurt and the crust from a piece of white toast. He shook his head. What a bizarre combination for a midnight feast. No wonder she had a bad stomach.
Adam was waiting for them in the MIR. His face was drawn and he looked tired and pale. He’d shaved badly, with patches of bristles still shading his cheeks, and his tie hung a couple of inches down his neck. He didn’t say anything, but handed them each a photocopied sheet. They sat in silence and read the blackmailer’s note.
Dear Superintendent Osmond,
You are a despicable man. Like many of your kind, you pretend to be one thing in public when the private reality is very different.
“You are a liar, a hypocrite, and you are corrupt. You boast of being an upholder of the law whereas in fact you have broken it and used your position to cover up that fact. You are utterly odious.
I know what happened on your little celebration in December. It was a lovely night out, wasn’t it? You and your wife, toasting the birth of your first grandchild and the impending arrival of Christmas. A beautiful evening, and just cause to celebrate. So you chose one of Plymouth’s finer restaurants. Who would begrudge you that?
Except you went a little too far, didn’t you, Superintendent? You love that Jaguar car of yours, don’t you? And you live out in the country. You could have easily booked a cab. A man in your position could afford it without any trouble. But you chose not to. You decided to drive in, and you got a little carried away.
You assured that poor wife of yours, Janey, that you would only have a glass or two of wine. But you couldn’t stop at a glass. You had to have a bottle. And then another. You could always get a taxi home, you said.
But then comes the end of the night. Getting a cab is a hassle, isn’t it? And you don’t want to leave your lovely car in the middle of Plymouth. It could get vandalised, stolen even. Who’ll know if you drive home?
But it wasn’t your lucky night, was it Superintendent?
Some of these traffic police are smart. A patrol spotted you. You were driving just a little too carefully. You made the officer suspicious. And so he pulled you over.
You get out of the car, and suddenly our traffic policeman has a problem. You’re one of his superior officers. He doesn’t need to make you do a breath test, does he? He can smell the drink. He knows.
You see the confusion in his eyes, Superintendent, and you suggest a way out of this tricky little problem. Perhaps he could forget all about the last few minutes and go about his business, while you drive very carefully home. And when he applies for that sergeant’s position which is coming up, well, you can’t promise, of course, but you can make sure his application is viewed most favourably.
And there’s one postscript to this tale of woe, Superintendent. What’s this I find in my research on your illustrious career? That for the past six years, you have been in charge of Greater Wessex Police’s Christmas campaign against drinking and driving. And here you are, quoted.
‘Drink driving is a scourge. Anyone who takes to the wheel after drinking deserves society’s strongest condemnation. It’s akin to taking a loaded gun out and not caring who might get hit by the bullets. It kills. It wrecks innocent lives. We must stamp it out and we will stamp it out.’
What fine words! But, I suppose you forgot to mention that drink driving is fine if you’re a high-ranking police officer who fancies a few and can’t be bothered to get a taxi home. An understandable omission. It would spoil the quote rather, wouldn’t it?
So Superintendent, we have established you are a thoroughly despicable man. The question is, what do I intend to do about it?
You’ll be expecting me to ask for cash. Wrong, totally wrong. I don’t want your filthy money. My only interest is in exposing you. You and your rotten kind.
You’ll know by now that you are not alone. You could hardly have missed your detectives running around so amusingly in their pursuit of me. Your sordid secrets fill my beautiful Judgement Book. But there are others there too. You are the third, but you will not be the last. I’ve chosen two more to share your fate. Is that any comfort to you?
You do not deserve this, but I will give you one chance. I confess I am enjoying my game. I give you one hope to save yourself. The following riddle, if solved, will give you a word. If you can solve it, place a personal advert in the Western Daily News’ Births, Marriages and Deaths section, starting with the word that forms the solution, and going on to use your surname.
So then, your riddle. As a clue, I give you this advice. It might help you to think back to last Sunday to solve it. Now tel me the answer to this.
1112, 7257, 1173, 22584
For your information, and for your detectives, I re-emphasise this. The solution to the riddle, combined with those to the other four, will take you to the hiding place of the Judgement Book.
Good luck.
The three of them finished the note at the same time. They looked up, all quietened by what they’d read. The flagpole outside the window rattled.
Claire drew in a hiss of breath. ‘Osmond, eh?’
Adam said knowingly, ‘You’ve had dealings with him?’
‘Only a few, sir, ages ago. From when I was in uniform.’
‘And?’
‘Well, I …’
‘Come on Claire. You’re amongst friends. If it’s any help, I can’t stand the man, and it’s a common feeling around here.’
She nodded. ‘He was the one who came closest to making me quit. When I was a probationer. He bawled me out because I filled in a fixed penalty notice wrongly. It had me in fits of tears. Some druggie had been shoplifting. I gave him a ticket, just like we were supposed to. But the shop complained that was too lenient and demanded to see the paperwork. The manager wanted to take the case to court, but I’d put the street name on the form in the wrong box and it meant he couldn’t.’
Dan whistled through his teeth. ‘He bawled you out for that? It’s a tiny mistake. Easy to make.’
‘Maybe, but it doesn’t feel like it when you’re just starting off in your career. It was the first time I really met Linda. I was sitting in the canteen, trying not to cry, and she came and chatted to me. She talked me out of quitting. She even went to see the shop manager to smooth it all over.’
Adam nodded. ‘Osmond’s no
t exactly known for his touchy, feely style. He’s an ex-army officer and still thinks he’s in the forces. I’ve had a few run-ins with him myself. He thinks every problem’s solved by shouting at it. He’s a walking anachronism.’
‘So,’ said Dan. ‘You think the drink driving allegation in the note’s true?’
Adam didn’t reply, just gave him a look.
‘Bloody hell,’ said Dan, who couldn’t think of a more eloquent contribution.
‘Quite,’ replied Adam, his voice quiet and strained. ‘My already impressive list of problems just grew longer. Now I’ve got a very serious allegation against a senior and belligerent officer to mix in with my already tortuous blackmail case. Osmond doesn’t know yet. He’s on his way in. I’m going to talk to him, then he’ll be suspended pending an investigation.’
‘How come he doesn’t know about the note yet?’ asked Dan.
‘The letter was put through the post box here at the police station at about five o’clock this morning. On it was written “To Supt. Leon Osmond. Enclosed, the latest chapter of the Judgement Book.” They called me when the duty sergeant found it.’
Claire raised an eyebrow, then said, ‘And what about this picture of the Worm?’
‘As you know, the front office here isn’t manned throughout the night,’ replied Adam. ‘But there is CCTV on the entrance. I think we’ve got an image of our blackmailer delivering the letter.’
‘Breakthrough?’ Dan asked.
‘I’d like to hope so, but …’
‘But?’
‘Let’s wait and see. The Worm’s smart. I can’t imagine him smiling up at the camera in a nice pose for us.’
The detective wiped his shining forehead with a sleeve. ‘Just to add to my burden, the media have twigged the link between Linda’s suicide and Freedman’s and are baying for interviews. You’ll have to work out a way of dealing with them. I’ll do another press conference, but that’s it. The High Honchos have been on my back twice this morning, demanding results. I can’t afford to lose more time. And I’ve now got to confront Osmond, and that won’t be pretty.’