‘So doctors are true paragons of virtue, but wave a few quid in front of one of the members of the lower orders, an’ you’ll have him rollin’ over like a puppy?’ Woodend asked.
‘I didn’t say that,’ Stevenson protested.
‘No, not quite you didn’t,’ Woodend agreed.
‘I suppose it did sound rather snobbish of me to insist it couldn’t have been one of the doctors,’ Stevenson said, in a placatory manner. ‘After all, there are a few bad apples in every barrel.’
Woodend slapped his forehead with the palm of his hand. ‘Idiot!’ he said loudly.
‘I beg your pardon?’
‘I’m losin’ my grip on my argument completely, which is hardly surprisin’, considerin’ I’ve had no sleep for last thirty-six hours an’ I’m so tired that I’m almost on the point of droppin’ where I stand.’
‘You should get some sleep, you know,’ Stevenson said solicitously.
‘As soon as I’ve tied up a few loose ends, I will,’ Woodend promised. ‘Anyway, here we are debatin’ about whether it was a cleaner or a doctor that told Brunton who he should approach, when, in fact, it was Mainwearin’ who decided to obtain the drugs from the Pendleton Clinic.’
‘And he wasn’t a patient there.’
‘Well, exactly! An’ not only that, but he couldn’t explain to me why he chose the clinic – just like he couldn’t explain why he decided to call himself the Invisible Man.’
‘Perhaps he was lying about choosing the clinic himself,’ Stevenson suggested. ‘Perhaps it was Brunton’s choice after all.’
Woodend shook his head. ‘Mainwearin’ didn’t lie to me durin’ that interview. He might not have always known the truth – but he certainly didn’t lie.’
‘I couldn’t comment on that,’ Stevenson said. ‘I wasn’t there.’
‘No, you weren’t,’ Woodend agreed. ‘An’ it wouldn’t have been proper to have you there. Because not only was Brunton one of your patients, but Mainwearin’ was an’ all.’
‘I wouldn’t exactly call him a patient of mine – not in the same way as Brunton was – though I did see him a few times, at the request of his probation officer. I believe that was one of the conditions of his parole.’
‘It’s funny that neither of them tried to get close to the investigation, isn’t it?’ Woodend asked.
‘What do you mean?’
‘Well, if I’m recallin’ what you told me correctly, you said that the organized killer takes a great interest in the investigation. He’ll keep a scrapbook of the newspaper reports, an’ may even try to insinuate himself onto the periphery of the investigation itself. But Brunton an’ Mainwearin’ never tried to do that. An’ when we searched their properties, we found no evidence of scrapbooks.’
‘If you remember, I also used the word “likely” quite a lot,’ Stevenson said. ‘The organized killer is likely to keep a scrapbook, and likely to want to get close to the investigation. But dealing with the human mind is a tricky business, and there are no hard and fast rules.’
‘On the other hand, you did sort of become part of the investigation,’ Woodend said.
‘Only because my wife asked me to,’ Stevenson pointed out. He laughed. ‘Only because she insisted on it.’
‘Aye, she’s a very formidable woman, is Sergeant Stevenson,’ Woodend agreed. ‘But even formidable women can be manipulated, if you go about it in the right way.’
‘What do you mean?’ Stevenson asked.
‘I remember the first time you turned up at my office as if it was only yesterday,’ Woodend mused, ignoring the question. ‘You were wearin’ the same brown tweed jacket and brown trousers that you’re wearin’ today, an’ I thought at the time that they looked rather new. Were they?’
‘I can’t honestly remember.’
‘You were wearin’ the same outfit when we met in the Drum, just after I’d been kicked off the case. But the next time I saw you – when I popped into your office unexpectedly – you were wearing a smart suit. Now you’re back to the jacket an’ trousers again. But then, that’s understandable – because I did tell you in advance that I was comin’ this time, didn’t I?’
‘Are you trying to make some kind of point?’
‘I once had a mate who was a salesman, an’ he said the key to successful sellin’ is to do all you can to convince the customer that you’re very much like him. If you go out for a meal together, eat what he eats an’ drink what he drinks. If he’s a follower of rugby league, find out all about it, an’ pretend it’s the drivin’ passion of your life. An’ if you seem to have the same taste in clothes, well, that can’t do any harm either.’
‘But I’m not a salesman.’
‘Of course you are.’
‘And what am I supposed to be selling?’
‘Your ideas. An’ even more importantly, yourself – which is what all salesmen are really sellin’ anyway.’
Stevenson glanced down at his watch. ‘I have to get back to the university,’ he said. ‘I’m due to give a lecture in an hour, and there’s still some preparation I need to complete.’
‘See that bridge up ahead of us?’ Woodend asked, pointing.
‘Yes?’
‘Just walk that far with me. It won’t take more than a couple of minutes, an’ if you put a spurt on when you turn round again, you’ll easily make up the time. All right?’
‘All right,’ Stevenson agreed, though he didn’t seem entirely happy about the prospect.
‘I got on really well with my old mam,’ Woodend said. ‘She was that proud of me when I became a sergeant in the army, an’ she was that proud of me when I became a police inspector. But, do you know, she’d have been just as proud of me if I’d stayed in the mill all my workin’ life, like my dad did.’
Stevenson sighed. ‘Look, I should never have agreed to go any further with you,’ he said. ‘I really do have to get back.’
‘Did you disappoint your mam as much as you’ve obviously disappointed your wife?’ Woodend wondered.
‘What!’
‘I expect you did. That’s probably why you married Rosemary in the first place – because she was so much like your mam that you thought you could relive your childhood, an’ get it right this time. But that kind of thing never works out, Doc. You of all people should know that.’
‘How dare you try to analyse me like that?’ Stevenson demanded. ‘You’ve no idea what you’re talking about. You haven’t had the training.’
‘No, I haven’t,’ Woodend admitted. ‘But I’ve seen a great deal of life – an’ that’s been an education in itself. So tell me, when did you come up with the idea of turnin’ Mainwearin’ and Brunton into your puppets? When exactly did you decide to use them as the instruments for fulfillin’ your fantasies?’
‘This is ludicrous!’ Stevenson said.
‘My guess would be it was at some point in their treatments – when you realized they were both a lot like you.’
‘They’re nothing like me!’ Stevenson said, in a voice so loud it was almost a scream.
‘You’re not bein’ quite honest with yourself there, Doc,’ Woodend said. ‘If they weren’t like you, you’d never have been able to get them to do what you wanted them to do. If they weren’t like you, you’d never have been able to hypnotize them so successfully.’
‘I never hypnotized either of them.’
‘Of course you did. That’s why Mainwearin’ could sign himself the Invisible Man, even though he had no idea where the name came from. That’s how he could know that the pharmacist at Pendleton Clinic was bent, without ever havin’ been to the place – because you worked there, you’d heard the rumours, and you put the idea into his head. But most important of all, there’s the fact that Brunton an’ Mainwearin’ have no idea that the reason they got together in the first place is because you put them together.’
‘This is all pure speculation,’ Stevenson said. ‘I was teaching a class of thirty students when the first girl was kidnappe
d, and I wasn’t even in the country when the second one was snatched.’
‘You didn’t need to be there for the thing to happen,’ Woodend said. ‘All you had to do was programme Brunton an’ Mainwearin’ beforehand. They did the dirty work for you, didn’t they?’
‘Of course not.’
‘So tell me, Doc, do you think you’d have eventually plucked up the nerve to hurt the girls yourself – or would you never have got beyond keepin’ a death watch from the house next door?’
‘I had nothing to do with any of this – and you’ll never be able to prove I did,’ Stevenson told him, with a show of contempt.
‘Don’t talk so bloody stupid!’ Woodend said dismissively. ‘This is what I do for a livin’. Crime’s my business, just like shrinkin’ heads is yours. So of course I can bloody prove it.’
‘How?’ Stevenson challenged.
‘Well, for starters, you had quite a cosy little set-up in that house next to the garage. You needed to be sure that you wouldn’t be disturbed, which in turn means you either had to own the place yourself or have a hold over whoever else owns it. It shouldn’t be too hard to uncover that link.’
‘I do own the place, as a matter of fact,’ Stevenson admitted. ‘I bought it as an investment, some time ago. But I haven’t been near it since the day I purchased it.’
‘Bought it as an investment,’ Woodend scoffed. ‘An almost derelict house like that! Some investment!’ He paused for a moment. ‘An’ then there’s the spyin’ equipment which you installed in the wall, so you could get your nasty little thrills from watchin’ a poor innocent girl suffer. Very specialized, is stuff like that. There won’t be more than a few places in the country that sell it – an’ it should be a doddle to trace it back to you. An’ when we search your house, we’ll be sure to find your scrapbooks, won’t we?’
‘My … scrapbooks?’
‘Aye, I thought we would. Brunton an’ Mainwearin’ didn’t keep them, but then they were not so much organized offenders as bein’ organized offenders.’
‘Everything you have is purely circumstantial,’ Stevenson said. ‘You’ll never make it stick.’
‘If it’ll help, you just go on tellin’ yourself that,’ Woodend said encouragingly. ‘Keep on sayin’ it right up to the point that you hear the steel door slam behind you for the last time. Because it will be the last time, you know? They’re never goin’ to let you out.’
They had almost reached the bridge, and two uniformed constables emerged from the shadows.
‘I’ve finished with him. He’s all yours now,’ Woodend said.
The constables advanced, placed Stevenson’s hands behind his back, and cuffed him.
‘Any last words you’d like to say to me?’ Woodend asked Stevenson, as he was about to be led away.
‘What are you expecting me to say?’ Stevenson asked. ‘That I realize now that I’ve done wrong. That I’m sorry about what happened to the girl. Because if that’s what you were waiting for, you’re going to be sorely disappointed.’
‘No, I wasn’t expectin’ anythin’ like that,’ Woodend said. ‘But I might have done, if I hadn’t had the advantage of spendin’ so much time with you.’
‘What are you talking about?’ Stevenson asked.
‘You’re a very good teacher, Dr Stevenson,’ Woodend said. ‘Possibly even a remarkable one. An’ one of the things you’ve taught me is just how sick bastards like you actually think.’
Twenty-Eight
It was over three hours after Martin Stevenson’s arrest that Woodend found himself standing in front of the chief constable’s desk and looking down at the seated Henry Marlowe, while Marlowe, in turn, glared back up at him.
‘Why exactly do you think I’ve sent for you, Chief Inspector?’ the chief constable asked.
Woodend shrugged. ‘I suppose it could be to congratulate me on solvin’ yet another crime that has had fellers with more pips on their shoulders completely baffled,’ he suggested.
‘Your position is already precarious enough as it is,’ the chief constable said. ‘Insolence will certainly not improve matters for you.’
‘Insolence, sir?’ Woodend repeated. ‘I thought I was statin’ no more than the simple truth.’
‘Superintendent Crawley tells me you physically manhandled him in front of a suspect who he was about to begin questioning,’ Marlowe said. ‘You may deny it if you choose to, but I’m confident the suspect will confirm Mr Crawley’s version of the events.’
‘Aye, an’ if you can’t take the word of a sexual deviant who tortures little girls, whose word can you take?’ Woodend mused.
‘So are you denying it or not?’
‘Depends which part of your statement we’re talking about. I deny the part about Crawley questionin’ the suspect. I was the one who was questionin’ Mainwearin’ – he was the one who was buttin’ in.’
‘Do you deny that you manhandled Superintendent Crawley?’
‘I slammed him up against the wall an’ told him that he’d only got to interrupt one more time an’ I’d deck him – if that’s what you mean, sir. An’ the reason that I did that was because I needed to have one more piece of information before I could go after Dr Stevenson – an’ Mr Crawley was doin’ his level best to prevent me from gettin’ it.’
‘But you had no right to “go after” Dr Stevenson in the first place. If you knew he was guilty, you should have informed Superintendent Crawley and DCI Mortlake immediately.’
‘Ah, but that’s the point,’ Woodend said. ‘I didn’t know – I only strongly suspected. It wasn’t until well into our walk along the canal bank together that I became absolutely convinced Stevenson was my man.’
‘Very well, then, if you weren’t sure you should still have informed Superintendent Crawley of your strong suspicions, and then stepped aside while he continued the investigation.’
‘What? An’ have him bugger the whole thing up?’
‘It was his investigation to bu— to conduct, and the one thing I will insist on in this force is the proper respect for the chain of command.’
‘I’ll bear that in mind in future,’ Woodend promised.
‘If I have my way – and I sincerely believe that this time I finally will – there won’t be any future for you,’ Marlowe promised him.
‘You’re sackin’ me?’
‘After the abominable way you behaved with Superintendent Crawley, that is certainly my intention.’
‘I did crack this case, you know,’ Woodend reminded him. ‘It was me who actually put the villains behind bars.’
‘There is more to policing than simply catching criminals,’ Marlowe said.
‘Is there? Like what?’
‘There is orderliness. There is image. These are essential elements of modern police work, but you have never made any attempt to come to terms with them. And that, Mr Woodend, is why you will simply have to go. Have I made myself clear to you?’
‘Clear enough,’ Woodend said.
The phone rang, and Marlowe picked it up.
‘I said I didn’t want to be interrupted, except in an emergency,’ he barked into the receiver.
In spite of the situation he found himself in, Woodend couldn’t help grinning at the turn events were taking. Marlowe had been waiting for this confrontation for a long time – he probably even dreamed of it – and now his big dramatic moment had finally come, it had been interrupted by a phone call. It seemed a real shame!
The colour had drained from the chief constable’s face, and his hand was gripping the receiver so tightly that his knuckles had turned white.
‘What?’ he said into the receiver. ‘You’re absolutely sure of that? … But it’s a nightmare. It’s a bloody disaster!’
He slammed the phone down on its cradle.
‘Bad news, sir?’ Woodend asked, the grin still on his face.
‘Shut up, Chief Inspector, and listen very carefully to what I have to tell you!’ Marlowe said angrily. ‘When you le
ave this office, I want you to go straight to your own. And once you’re there, you’re to stay there – and talk to no one – until I summon you again. Is that perfectly clear?’
‘Perfectly,’ Woodend said, mystified.
It was over two hours before the promised summons from the chief constable came, and, when Woodend returned Marlowe’s office, the first thing he noticed was that his boss had changed into his best dress uniform.
Marlowe ran his eyes briefly – and distastefully – up and down Woodend’s frame, then said, ‘I don’t suppose you keep a decent lounge suit in your office, do you, Chief Inspector?’
‘Afraid not,’ Woodend told him.
Marlowe sighed heavily. ‘I suspected as much. Well, you’ll just have to do as you are.’
‘Do as I am for what?’
‘We’re going to attend a press briefing, you and I,’ the chief constable said grimly.
‘A press briefin’?’ Woodend repeated. ‘Look, you can try an’ get me sacked if you like, but if you think that while you’re crucifyin’ me for the benefit of the media I’m goin’ to just stand there an’ take it—’
‘For God’s sake, man, shut up!’ Marlowe screamed. ‘Shut up! Shut up! Shut up! I am not about to crucify you, however much I might wish to. All I’m asking you to do is to attend a press briefing, and listen to what I have to say. You’ll get your chance to put your own point of view when I’ve finished speaking, and I promise you that there’ll be no comeback from me, whatever you choose to say. That’s fair, isn’t it?’
‘Very fair,’ Woodend agreed. ‘In fact, considerin’ you’re the one that’s makin’ the offer, sir, I’d have to say it’s remarkably fair.’
Woodend had expected to see both Superintendent Crawley and DCI Mortlake at the briefing, but there was no sign of either of them. In fact, the only two people on the platform were the chief constable and himself.
Marlowe stood up and outlined the details of the case with a briefness and lack of self-aggrandizement that left Woodend almost breathless with amazement. But the cabaret had only just begun.
Death Watch Page 24