by Ray Clark
“Anthony’s long-standing ambition had been to start up his own IT company. The death of his parents not only devastated him, it left him bloody penniless, because the money they had set up in a trust fund collapsed due to a loophole in the policy. That was probably his introduction to how life can let you down.”
“Might even account for how he’s turned and what’s led him up this path,” said Reilly.
“I imagine it had something to do with it,” replied Roger, “but I’m sure there’s more to it. Anyway, Anthony eventually attended college and studied IT. From there he went to university.”
“Do you know which one?”
“No, probably here in Leeds, but I’m sure David or Ann Marie would be able to tell you.”
Roger stopped suddenly, and then corrected himself: “Had they been here.”
Gardener allowed Roger Hunter a moment’s silence and was quite relieved when he took up the story again.
“I think Anthony knew enough about computers to realise their potential and the havoc he could wreak with them. I remember David telling me that he’d discovered Anthony had been developing and selling cures for viruses, which is why I said what I did about ruining people financially, because that’s what computer viruses do, don’t they?”
Gardener couldn’t do anything but agree. At least he was learning more about one of the potential monsters responsible for the deaths of two people. He could only term him as a monster because it appears that he wantonly set out to destroy them. But he needed to know why, and at the moment he wasn’t hearing anything to point him in the right direction. What had happened to cause such an act of violence?
Roger Hunter finished his tea. “I’m afraid I can’t tell you any more than that, gentlemen. As I said, it’s all second-hand. I only met him on a couple of occasions, family gatherings, so to speak. But even then I got the impression that he couldn’t really be trusted – something in his eyes. I wish you the best of luck with him if he is your man. He’s as slippery as an eel.”
“We’re beginning to realise that.”
Roger Hunter sighed, his gaze distant. “I’d love to know what went on to cause such a rift. And why didn’t my brother say something?”
“Don’t beat yourself up about it, Roger,” said Reilly. “All sorts of weird things happen within families, secrets buried for years.”
Gardener rose to leave. “Thank you for your time, Mr Hunter, at least you’ve given us something positive to work with.”
Chapter Fifteen
Two days later Gardener was more than pleased to hear from Winter, especially when he said they’d had a breakthrough, and Shona Pearson was on her way round. The second phone call he’d taken was from the caretaker of Michael Foreman’s apartment block. Gardener asked if the man would check his apartment and when he returned to the phone, he confirmed it was totally empty, aside from mail.
Gardener had rallied his team to the incident room when Shona walked through the door with a Manila folder in her right hand.
Gardener offered her a drink. She accepted. Reilly brought it. She placed the folder on the table and took the coffee. “God, I need this,” she said, taking a sip.
“Tough day?” Gardener asked.
“Tough night. In fact, they all roll into one now. Can’t remember the last time I saw my home.”
“We’ve pulled a few of them in our time,” said Reilly, with most of the team nodding in agreement.
Gardener hoped it would all be worth it. “Your boss sounded excited.”
Shona Pearson put the coffee cup on the table, grabbed the Manila folder and opened it up. She produced four A4 photographs, spreading them out in front of Gardener.
“Are these who I think?”
“We’re pretty certain,” replied Pearson. She pointed to each photo in turn and supplied a name. “Anthony Palmer, James Henshaw, Zoe Harrison and Michael Foreman.”
Gardener thought they were all young, but then most people who specialised in IT were. It was what they had grown up with.
“How recent?”
“Not that recent, sometime around the university years.”
“Which university did they go to?” Longstaff asked, as she and the other members of the team gathered around the table.
“Leeds.”
“All of them?” asked Gardener.
“Yes, all of them. We managed to track down one of their tutors, which wasn’t too hard; he’s still there. His name is Dave Walsh.”
“Did he remember them?” Reilly asked.
“Said he’d never forget them. Walsh spent a lot of time with them because they were brilliant. Perhaps the brightest students he’d ever taught.”
“Christ,” said Reilly, “that’s all we need.”
“According to Walsh,” continued Pearson, “prior to their death, Anthony Palmer’s parents had encouraged him to continue with his education once he’d left school. Eventually he realised they were right and respected their wishes. He enrolled himself into Leeds and settled into an IT degree.
“Here’s where it gets interesting. Toward the end of the course, Palmer found himself competing for the top place with three other students, who had all started the same week; four students in total, with no idea the others existed when they started, and what effect they were all going to have on each other’s life.”
“I think I know where this is going,” said Colin Sharp, chomping on a Scottish shortbread.
“You’re probably right,” said Pearson. “The tutors agreed that all four were exceptional. It would be hard to separate them when it came to the final exams. Palmer came second to a girl called Zoe Harrison.”
“Who came third and fourth?” asked Gates.
“Not sure.”
“Did they know each other at university?” Gardener asked.
“According to Walsh, and one or two of the other tutors, no, they didn’t. I suspect they were aware of each other.”
“You’d have to be,” said Longstaff, “with marks like they had.”
Shona Pearson nodded. “Although they were aware of each other, they didn’t socialise. Apparently they moved in different circles.”
“Well, something brought them all together,” said Reilly.
Gardener pinned the photos onto the whiteboard. “So what we need to find out is, how and when did they all meet up outside of university?”
“And what set them on the road to breaking the law?” asked Colin Sharp.
“And whatever that something was,” said Gates, “did it happen to all four of them as a team, or just one of them?”
“Good point,” said Reilly. “Did one of them recruit the others after something had happened?”
Gardener shook his head. “I can’t imagine David Hunter willingly having anything to do with this… event, or whatever it was. He didn’t seem the type from what we’ve heard.”
“But that’s just it, boss,” said Reilly, “we don’t really know him, not yet. Maybe something did happen way back in the past, and either one or all of them has never forgiven him.”
“We certainly need to find out,” said Gardener. “There’s no telling where this will end.”
“We’ve also emailed the photos over to the station,” said Pearson. “We thought maybe you could print off some copies for your own use.”
“Thank you,” said Gardener, his mind whirring.
Before he could actually issue any tasks, Shona Pearson produced more paper from the folder.
“What we also have here from David Hunter’s phone is Anthony Palmer’s mobile number.”
“Have you tried it?”
“Yes, straight to voicemail,” said Pearson. “From that we managed to get numbers for the other three.”
An air of excitement prevailed.
“Don’t suppose any of them answered?” asked Reilly.
“No, but they are still active numbers, because they all go to voicemail.”
“I suspect you’ve already tried to trace them?�
� Gardener asked.
Shona Pearson smiled. “Yes, but they’re not stupid. All of their phones are switched off most of the time. And when I say most, I mean probably twenty-three and a half hours a day.”
“Meaning they only switch them on to collect messages and then switch them straight off again,” said Gates.
“People as clever as these won’t allow anyone to trace them through their phones,” said Longstaff. “What about the mobile providers, can they give us anything?”
“Well that’s the strange one,” said Pearson, “we can’t actually find out who they are at the moment. Everything seems to re-route all over the place. When we try to put a trace on we just get blocked.”
“They must have a provider,” offered Gardener.
“Unless they’ve figured out how to get all their calls for free,” said Reilly.
Gardener nodded. “Probably have.” He glanced at Gates and Longstaff. “Would you ladies like to have a go at that one?”
They agreed in unison.
“Okay,” said Gardener, “we have no idea where this lot is; are they still here in the UK, or abroad somewhere? Let’s have copies of the photos and the rest of you back at the airports with digital ID. Run everything they have through photo recognition, especially the new passport system in customs, and double-check everything through CCTV. One of them must have made a mistake somewhere. No one can be that good.”
“Let’s hope not, for our sakes,” said Reilly.
Chapter Sixteen
Following a phone call from Roger Hunter, Gardener and Reilly were back at Highway Cottage in Burley. Despite the fact that he had been living in his brother’s house for something close to three weeks, it didn’t appear to be lived in at all. Gardener had the impression that Roger Hunter was merely a caretaker.
“How are you?” asked Gardener, sipping tea.
“I’ve been better.”
“I’m sorry for what you’ve been put through. Losing family is never easy.”
“You sound like you have previous experience.”
“Like you wouldn’t believe,” replied Gardener.
“Do you have any other family, Roger?” asked Reilly.
“No. I’m a loner. Always have been. I’ve had one or two relationships but I could never commit to them. I operate better alone.”
Gardener brought up the phone call that summoned them over.
Roger glanced at the coffee table between them. On the top were a couple of diaries. Underneath them was a large white envelope.
“I couldn’t stop thinking about what you’d told me, about Anthony Palmer. I’m struggling to believe he would do that to my brother, and Ann Marie.”
“You can’t choose your family, Roger,” said Reilly.
Roger grabbed a handful of pistachio nuts. After chewing he washed them down with some tea before picking up one of the diaries.
“David was always the secretive one of the two of us. When we were kids he used to hide things from me.”
“What sort of things?” Gardener asked.
“Stupid stuff. Things that he’d think I’d want. I remember him hiding a bloody abacus in a bag, inside a case, under the wardrobe. God knows why, I didn’t want it. I didn’t know how to use it. But that was what he did. If there was something he wanted, or something he couldn’t understand, he wouldn’t ask anyone for help about it, he’d fester. He’d hide the bloody things away until he could come up with a solution.”
“What have you found?” Gardener asked, sitting back in his chair.
“This,” said Roger, holding a diary aloft.
“Where was it?” asked Reilly.
“In the bathroom cupboard behind a false panel. You wouldn’t have known it was there unless you were a bit anal like me. If things don’t look right, they’re usually not. I noticed a slight slant on this panel so I moved it. Found these.”
“What’s in them?” asked Gardener, reaching out for the book.
“A couple of things.” Roger opened the diary at a particular page and then passed it over to Gardener. Reilly moved closer.
“It seems that my brother had arranged to meet with Anthony Palmer. From what I can gather, David had told Anthony about the mess he had found himself in, despite the fact that none of it was his doing.
“He was convinced that he was being conned by a hacker who had used the fact that he was employed by a private bank with some extremely large accounts. They had used his identity to break in and shift money around – to their advantage.
“David basically knew nothing about how it had happened. He wanted Anthony’s help to sort things out. Little did he know that he was being conned by a member of his own family.”
Gardener was skimming pages. Some of what Roger had said was there. A lot of other pages were gibberish, which Gardener guessed might have been something connected to the cryptocurrencies.
Roger picked up the other diary and leafed through till he found what he wanted. “This one also makes me wonder if, at the last minute, David had managed to find out who was behind the scam and was perhaps arranging to meet someone else in an effort to expose them.”
“Do you not think he might have picked a better time and place, Roger?” asked Reilly.
“Possibly so,” said Roger, “but judging by what has happened, it would appear that David played right into Anthony’s hands. Somehow or other, and I don’t know how because there’s nothing in here, Anthony and his crew found out and decided to do something about it. I’m not saying they wanted to remove him altogether. Maybe what they had planned all went wrong. But what better time than midnight in a sleepy little village.”
“There’s a lot of ifs and buts there, Mr Hunter,” said Gardener, “but you put forward a very good theory.”
“I doubt anything would be impossible with this lot,” said Reilly. “Looking at how good they are with computers, it would be easy for them to drop some spyware into your brother’s computer and follow his every move.”
“Stands to reason that they would know where he was going and when,” said Roger.
“Trouble is,” said Reilly, “we’ve been through his computer, we didn’t find anything.”
“Maybe this lot are clever enough to plant a program that self-destructs when it’s done its business,” answered Roger.
“Maybe so,” said Gardener, “but it still doesn’t answer what started all of this in the first place.”
Roger picked up a third diary. “What you’re looking for might be in here. When Anthony left university he had a series of menial jobs before jumping onto the IT ladder. He eventually approached David for a loan. Anthony was devastated – as were Ann Marie and David – when the bank refused him, despite his being able to show them potential figures, and a reasonably solid business plan put together by David. One excuse was the state of the economy; they were not up for putting money into small businesses. He should try a small bank, not the prestigious one that employed a member of his family.”
“That must have gone down well,” said Reilly, leafing through one of the diaries.
“According to all the notes I’ve found, Anthony never forgave them.”
Gardener thought about it. “I can see why he would carry a grudge, but killing someone is a whole different ball game. That suggests it was more than a refusal of a loan.”
“I’m inclined to agree,” said Roger, “but that’s where you come in. I’m just pleased I could share something with you.”
“We appreciate that, Mr Hunter,” said Gardener. “Can we take these, please?”
Roger Hunter nodded.
Gardener was about to stand up before asking, “Was there something else?” he asked, staring at the A4 envelope.
Roger glanced at it. His expression suddenly took on one of those light-bulb moments when something suddenly comes flooding back to you.
“Do I detect you discovered something else?” Gardener asked.
“You asked me about someone called Alfie Price recen
tly. With everything that’s happened, my brother, the hit and run, not being able to get any closure, it went completely out of my mind. I believe Alfie Price is Anthony Palmer.”
“Go on,” said Gardener, aware of the information, but the man obviously knew something he didn’t.
Roger opened the envelope and took out some photographs. Gardener could see that they were old. As Roger flicked his way through them he stared at one in particular before passing it over to Gardener. The picture appeared to be a ventriloquist’s dummy: the face porcelain, hard and shiny. Short black hair, big red lips, parted slightly with a twisted, lopsided grin. He wore a black suit with a white shirt and red tie. The most disturbing aspect however, were the eyes, as if somehow they were human, and had the ability to stare into your soul and read what you were thinking.
“That’s pretty creepy,” said Reilly, “what the hell is it?”
“It’s the start of a really strange story,” said Roger. “I remember something about this because Ann Marie told me when she found out. That, gentlemen, is Alfie Price.”
Roger paused, then continued, “It’s a clown doll, toy and ghost all rolled into one. It belonged to Anthony’s parents, Jennifer and Richard Palmer. Apparently it was named after the two legends of the horror genre – Vincent Price and Alfred Hitchcock.”
“That’s interesting,” said Gardener. He told Roger about the vehicle used in the hit and run being registered to Hammer Studios in the name of C. Lee.
“That’s just the type of damaged mind you’re dealing with here. Anyway, Richard came across the doll toy in a junk shop in Toxteth near Liverpool. Being entertainers and fans of creepy memorabilia, he bought it for £25.
“Shortly after taking Alfie home, they began experiencing bizarre occurrences. A number of times, Alfie suddenly vanished from where they left him, only to reappear in unexpected places. Richard once found the clown doll with both arms pointing straight at him. He later set up a tape recorder nearby. He captured a deep, raspy type of voice uttering the words ‘You belong to me!’ But the room was always empty.”