IMPOSTURE: Hunters become the hunted in this gripping murder mystery

by Ray Clark

  Roger caught him and slammed him back against the mirror, holding him by the throat. Once he seemed satisfied, he let go and retreated to the six feet mark.

  “Answer my question,” he repeated.

  Anthony was aware of the silence. The song had not started again.

  “We didn’t mean to.”

  Roger nearly climbed the walls again. “Didn’t mean to! You’ve all said you didn’t mean to. You must have meant to do something to them. No one sets up a meeting at midnight, armed to the teeth to just talk.”

  Roger moved in closer. Anthony squirmed, his legs weakening, not to mention his bladder. His mind was a complete jumble of thoughts. What could he do? What was Roger going to do? Were the police in here; would they come to his rescue?

  “It wasn’t me,” blurted out Anthony. “I didn’t want any part of it.”

  “That’s something else you’ve all said,” continued Roger. “You’ve all blamed each other. According to your statements you were all driving the car. How is that possible? There’s only one driver’s seat, you couldn’t all fit in it.”

  “It was Zoe,” shouted Anthony, “all Zoe’s idea. She was the mastermind.”

  “Rubbish,” said Roger. “Stop blaming the dead when they’re not here to defend themselves. No one person masterminded this little operation. And even if they did, you were all in the car. You were all responsible. What I want to know is, why?

  “After everything they did for you. They looked after you when your parents died. They steered you in the right direction, helped you become the successful businessman that they thought you were. David even set up a meeting for you with his bank.”

  “Fat lot of good that did,” said Anthony.

  Roger’s expression changed. “What are you trying to say; that because the bank turned you down, made a bad decision – in your opinion – my brother was held responsible and eventually killed?”

  Anthony couldn’t answer, though he knew it was part of the reason. DPA wanted to hit back at the establishment: the banks, the government, everyone who yielded some sort of power over the small businessman. He never intended to kill anyone. That was an incident beyond his control.

  “That was it, wasn’t it?” said Roger. “One knock back from the bank started you lot off on a life of crime.”

  “It wasn’t one knock back, we were all knocked back, more than once.”

  “So what?” shouted Roger, moving to within two feet of Anthony, who slid down the mirror, ending up on his knees, his hands covering his head.

  Roger leaned in and whispered into his ear. “How pathetic. Thirty-six years of marriage wiped out by the stroke of a pen. You held a negative decision against my brother when he had nothing to do with it, and you nurtured that grudge for so long that you eventually took his life, his wife’s, and countless others, I shouldn’t wonder.”

  Anthony was sobbing but somehow found enough bottle to direct his anger back at Roger.

  “We were no different to you. How many countless lives have you taken?”

  Roger suddenly grabbed Anthony’s hair and lifted him up, once again slamming him back against the mirror.

  “I was fighting for my country, you moron, protecting scum like you. There was no comparison.”

  “You weren’t fighting for your country when you took the lives of my friends, were you?”

  “No, sunshine, I was fighting back.” Roger left Anthony and stepped away.

  Anthony sniffed and wiped his nose on his sleeve. “What did you do to them?”

  Roger’s expression was one of confusion. “Why is that important?”

  “They were my friends. You’ve wiped them all out.”

  Roger’s expression grew even darker. “What’s wrong with you? Jesus Christ, do you see no wrong in anything you’ve done? You killed my brother, you’ve cheated God knows how many people out of God knows how many millions of pounds, you’ve killed other people along the way, changed your identities, lied to the police. Is there a crime you haven’t fucking committed?”

  Anthony didn’t answer. His head was a bigger mess now than when he’d walked in here. Considering everything Roger had done to the others, what in God’s name did he have in store for him?

  “What are you going to do to me?”

  “He’s not going to do anything to you, son,” said a voice behind Roger. “That’s down to me.”

  Chapter Sixty-four

  Sean Reilly stepped into the battlefield. He was about to speak when he heard the sirens of more police cars and, hopefully, ambulances. As bad as he felt about leaving his partner, he had given Paul Benson and Patrick Edwards strict instructions to stay with him until help arrived, whilst he sorted out the mess inside the building once and for all – his way!

  “Where’s your partner, Sean?” asked Roger Hunter.

  “Someone had the good grace to put a needle into him. Know anything about that, Roger?”

  “I don’t, but he will,” he replied, pointing at Anthony.

  Outside, the sirens stopped and doors slammed, and Reilly heard voices in the distance, asking for directions.

  “One of you better had,” said Reilly, pointing to Anthony Palmer, “I know he hates clowns, but what’s with the mirrors?”

  Roger glanced at Anthony. “He doesn’t like them, either, or the music; absolutely shit-scared of it all. Has been since he was seven years old when he had an unfortunate incident in the hall of mirrors.”

  Reilly glanced around. “Hence the reason for all this shit. Sounds like you know more about him than you were letting on.”

  “Know thyne enemy, Reilly. Fail to prepare, and you prepare to fail.”

  Reilly was suddenly aware of Dave Rawson and Bob Anderson behind him. Four more operational support officers joined them.

  “Oh, we’ve brought the cavalry, I see,” said Roger, removing the pointed hat.

  “In case it’s escaped your attention,” said Reilly, “my partner isn’t with me. He’s unconscious, possibly dying for all I know, so I want to know who stabbed him and what was in the syringe?”

  “Like I said, it wasn’t me,” said Roger. “It was this lunatic here.”

  Reilly glanced at Anthony and then back at Roger. “But all of this was you,” he said, spreading his arms and pointing to all the mirrors.

  “Yes,” said Roger, “this was my doing. I needed to draw him out, after everything he’d done.”

  “Killing your brother, you mean? I get that.”

  “And the others,” Roger added.

  “Others?”

  “Yes, the rest of his team. He’s killed them all.”

  Reilly still wasn’t sure about that. He covered the short distance between them like a streak of lightning, grabbing hold of Anthony Palmer, pushing him back against the mirror. “What’s in the syringe, sunshine?”

  “I don’t know,” sobbed Anthony.

  Reilly pinned him against the wall.

  “Steady, Sean,” said Anderson.

  “Back off, Bob. I want an answer and one way or another he’s going to give it to me.” Reilly faced Anthony Palmer. “I’ll ask you again, what was in the syringe?”

  “I’ve told you, I don’t know. It was all Zoe’s idea.”

  “Zoe Harrison?”

  “Yes. She contacted me yesterday, told me everything.” Palmer stared at Roger Hunter. “Told me he was shit-scared of needles, like I am of clowns. She told me how to deal with him, and how and where to get what I needed. She set me up with a contact. Cost me a fortune.”

  “My heart bleeds for you. Who was your contact?”

  “I don’t know.”

  Reilly was losing his temper. He slammed Palmer back against the mirror, causing a splintering sound.

  “My patience is wearing thin with you. If you don’t give me information you’re going to have a mirror where your face should be for the rest of your days. Where did you meet this contact?”

  Anthony tried to cover his head with his hands. His kn
ees buckled slightly. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I never saw the guy, never met him. I was told to go to an address in Beeston and collect a parcel in the shed. And I had to leave the money?”

  “And you have no idea what was in it?”

  “No… sorry.”

  “Have you completely lost your senses?” shouted Reilly, seething. “You might have killed my partner.”

  “It wasn’t meant for your partner,” screamed Anthony. “It was meant for him. That fucking nutter over there has killed everyone. I’m telling you now I did not kill my friends. He did.”

  Reilly glanced at Roger Hunter.

  “He’s lying, Reilly. He’ll say anything to get out of the mess he’s in.”

  “But he’s been out of the country. How could he have killed his colleagues when he wasn’t even here?”

  “Don’t be fooled by his pathetic appearance, the man is a cold-hearted killer. You know how good he is with computers. How do you know he’s been out of the country? I’m telling you, he’s done them all. He starved James, poisoned Michael, killed Zoe. Now it looks like he’s tried to kill Gardener.

  “Wake up and smell the coffee, Reilly.” Roger backed away. “He set up the whole thing, murdered his colleagues because he wanted to keep everything for himself.”

  Reilly was going nowhere fast, and all the time his partner was in serious trouble.

  “Enough,” shouted Reilly. “I’ve heard enough of this shit and backbiting.” He glanced at the operational support officers, and then toward Anthony Palmer.

  Reilly removed his warrant card and waved it in Anthony’s face. “Anthony Palmer, I’m arresting you for the murder of David and Ann Marie Hunter. You do not have to say anything, but it may harm your defence if you do not mention when questioned, something you later rely on in court. Anything you do say may be given in evidence.”

  He glanced at the operational support officers. “Take him down the station. He can explain everything when we have a lot more time.”

  The arrest was made swiftly and cleanly and the four officers dragged Anthony Palmer from the building.

  “Well done,” said Roger, “you’ve arrested the right man.”

  “For the murder of your brother, yes.”

  “And the others.”

  “Well that’s where I have a problem, Roger, old son.”

  “Meaning what?”

  “We know for a fact what killed Michael Foreman, a pretty lethal dose of nitrogen mustard. Now tell me, where would Anthony Palmer lay his hands on that stuff? We have your records, Roger, we know what you’re capable of, where you work, and the fact that you were one of the people who developed HN-3. Need I go on?”

  Roger remained silent, as was his right to do so.

  “So,” said Reilly, “easy way, or hard way?”

  “No point doing things the hard way,” replied Roger. “I’ve achieved what I set out to do. I’m just sorry that your partner got in the way. I hope he’s okay, Reilly. I really do.”

  “That makes two of us.” Reilly turned to Rawson and Anderson. “Another one for the station, boys.”

  Epilogue

  Reilly arrived at the hospital and was shown to a side room. Gardener was in bed, wired up to a bank of machinery that was recording his every movement. But he was still unconscious.

  Reilly sat down with a coffee and a doughnut. “Guess you’d have something to say about this shit I’m eating. But you’ll have to let me off this time, I haven’t eaten much today.”

  Reilly realised his partner was in the best place though he couldn’t stand to see all the electronic machinery beeping away, but at least it wasn’t a constant beep.

  He was about to take a bite of the doughnut when a doctor entered the room, carrying a clipboard. He was thin, in his early twenties with short black hair, glasses, and a pock-marked complexion.

  “Don’t eat too many of those,” he said to Reilly, “they’re not good for you.”

  “I’ll take my chances,” said Reilly, glancing at his partner. “How’s the boss man?”

  “Stable.”

  “That’s what you lot always say, when you’re not saying ‘we’re doing the best we can.’”

  The doctor smiled and wrote something on his clipboard.

  “Did you find out what was in the syringe?”

  “Yes. Secobarbital.”

  “That sounds Russian, which means it can’t be any good for you.”

  “It’s in a group of drugs we call barbiturates.”

  “What does it do and how dangerous is it?”

  “It slows the activity of your brain and nervous system. Short-term it’s used to treat insomnia, or as a sedative before surgery.”

  “And long term?”

  “We don’t use it for anything long term. Tell me, how is your friend’s health in general?”

  “He’s about the fittest person we know.” Reilly held up the doughnut. “Won’t touch these things, or anything related to them.”

  “Okay. Has he been to see his doctor for anything recently?”

  “Not that I know of. The last time he went to the surgery his doctor had retired and he’d dropped off the system. They usually have to send for him to see if he’s still alive.”

  The doctor nodded, writing more stuff down. “What’s that rash on his face?”

  “I’m not entirely sure but I found a can of mace very close to where he was attacked.”

  Reilly thought he caught a sigh of relief from the doctor. He asked why.

  “We thought it might have been an allergic reaction to the barbiturates. That can happen. But the pepper spray would explain things. Has he been subjected to anything else recently?”

  Reilly thought about the crime scene with Michael Foreman and the nitrogen mustard. He had no choice but to mention what had happened and that he didn’t think his friend had actually been exposed to it.

  “That’s for us to decide but thank you for telling me, Mr Reilly.” The doctor lowered his clipboard, stepped over to the machinery, recording the readings.

  He was about to leave the room.

  “Just hold your horse there, Doc. Are you not even going to tell me how he is?”

  The doctor glanced at Gardener. “He’s stable, Mr Reilly.”

  “You’re just full of clichés. Come on, son, give me a gut feeling here. Is he okay; he is going to live, isn’t he?”

  The doctor smiled and tapped Reilly’s shoulder. “We’re doing the best we can.”

  THE END

  Acknowledgements

  I’m so pleased by the success of the IMP series and, as usual, there are a number of dedicated people to thank for their help: Iain Ross; Darrin Knight, a tough, no nonsense, Irish DI in the North East of England; Bob Armitage, who served many years as a chemist at a hospital in Scunthorpe; Will and Harry of Edge Waes; and Peter James, fellow author and friend.

  More fiction in this series

  IMPURITY

  Book 1 in the DI Gardener crime fiction series

  Someone is out for revenge. A grotto worker is murdered in the lead up to Christmas. He won’t be the first. Can DI Gardener stop the killer, or is he saving his biggest gift till last?

  http://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B081Z817GY/

  http://www.amazon.com/dp/B081Z817GY/

  IMPERFECTION

  Book 2 in the DI Gardener crime fiction series

  When theatre goers are treated to the gruesome spectacle of an actor’s lifeless body hanging on the stage, DI Stewart Gardener is called in to investigate. Is the killer still in the audience? A lockdown is set in motion but it is soon apparent that the murderer is able to come and go unnoticed. Identifying and capturing the culprit will mean establishing the motive for their crimes, but perhaps not before more victims meet their fate.

  http://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B082SYZCFW/

  http://www.amazon.com/dp/B082SYZCFW/

  IMPLANT

  Book 3 in the DI Gardener crime fiction series

  A small Yorkshi
re town is beset by a series of cruel murders. The victims are tortured in bizarre ways. The killer leaves a message with each crime – a playing card from an obscure board game. DI Gardener launches a manhunt but it will only be by figuring out the murderer’s motive that they can bring him to justice.

  http://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B085GFV2BR/

  http://www.amazon.com/dp/B085GFV2BR/

  IMPRESSION

  Book 4 in the DI Gardener crime fiction series

  Police are stumped by the case of a missing five-year-old girl until her photograph turns up under the body of a murdered woman. It is the first lead they have and is quickly followed by the discovery of another body connected to the case. Can DI Stewart Gardener find the connection between the individuals before the abducted child becomes another statistic?

  http://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B08917ZGG9/

  http://www.amazon.com/dp/B08917ZGG9/

  IMPOSITION

  Book 5 in the DI Gardener crime fiction series

  When a woman’s battered body is reported to police by her husband, it looks like a bungled robbery. But the investigation begins to turn up disturbing links with past crimes. They are dealing with a killer who is expert at concealing his identity. Will they get to him before a vigilante set on revenge?

  http://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B08P1ZCC7S/

  http://www.amazon.com/dp/B08P1ZCC7S/

  Other titles of interest

  THE IMMORALIST by Nathan Senthil

  Self-styled Mr. Bunny wants to be the most notorious killer in US history. With four high profile figures slowly hanging to their deaths, he’s off to a good start. NYPD homicide detective Gabriel Chase much catch him, no matter at what cost. But who will have the last laugh?

  http://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B085Y9XR2B

  http://www.amazon.com/dp/B085Y9XR2B

  LATENT DAMAGE by Ian Robinson