by Mark Sennen
‘Are you taking the piss, mate?’ The officer glared at Raymond.
‘No. A Just Eat order.’ Raymond held up the Sainsbury’s bag. ‘Pasties and milk. Special request.’
‘For DI Riley?’
‘Yes, that’s him.’ Raymond grew in confidence. He gestured at the buildings. ‘What’s going on?’
‘Nothing to worry about. Go ahead and make your delivery.’
Raymond nodded. ‘OK.’
The officer walked away and Raymond got out of the car. He held the carrier bag in one hand and kept the knife hidden by slipping his other hand inside the flap of his mackintosh. He scampered towards the low building by the car park. Another officer questioned him, but Raymond smiled and mouthed the words ‘delivery’, holding up the bag as evidence.
Then, in a moment of pure serendipity, the door to the reception building opened, and the Black Detective emerged. Raymond clutched the bag close to his chest and quickened his pace. This would be over and done in a flash. In thirty seconds he could be driving away.
It’s him. Do it and we can be gone!
The detective began to run and disappeared round the corner of the building. Raymond broke into a jog. An officer over by one of the cars looked his way. Shouted something. Raymond ignored him and began to sprint.
***
Kelly screamed with rage and set off after her. He was nimble on his feet for a big man, and Savage sensed him a couple of paces behind. The shovel whooshed past her head as he flailed it, and he let out a bellow of rage.
She tried to focus on the route to the complex. Two hundred metres through a set of small pastures. At least one closed gate. Uphill. All her energy drained away, and she wondered if she was going to make it. She was still exhausted from her exertions on the moor, and the distance was too much.
‘Hey!’ She shouted, waving her arms in case any officers were looking in her direction. There was no sign of anyone.
‘CHARLOTTE!’
Kelly’s voice boomed and the shovel swished in the air once more. She was pulling away, but at the top of the meadow, close to the complex, there was a stone wall with a five bar gate in it. Climbing or vaulting the gate would take half a second, enough for Kelly to catch up and grab her as she went over.
Thirty metres.
Twenty.
Ten.
She threw herself at the gate head first, leaping as high as she could. Her torso cleared the gate, but her legs trailed and smacked into the top bar. The impact catapulted her over in a somersault, and she crashed down, her head striking the ground. She tried to get up, but dizziness overcame her, the world distorted in a blur of vision. Kelly vaulted the gate in a single leap. He landed beside her and raised the shovel. Smiled.
‘I warned you,’ he said. ‘But you didn’t listen. Now you’re not going to be so pretty.’
‘TASER! TASER! TASER!’
An officer sprang out from behind the wall, his weapon braced. At the same time as he fired, Kelly helicoptered round with the shovel, smashing the tool into the officer’s upper body. The man fell down, collapsing to the ground, the Taser flying from his hands and clattering against the wall.
Kelly turned back to Savage and raised the shovel again.
‘Sorry, Charlotte,’ he said.
Savage, unable to move, closed her eyes.
***
Raymond rounded the corner. Tried to take in the confusion. The Black Detective had skidded to a halt. He stood a few paces away, arms out, shouting and waving at a giant of a man. The giant was swinging a shovel wildly, the Black Detective stepping backwards to avoid being hit. Close by, a woman with red hair writhed on the floor, and a uniformed police officer lay unmoving over by a stone wall.
For a moment, Raymond didn’t know what to do. He’d come here to stab the Black Detective, but now he wasn’t so sure. His gaze roved towards the giant. A pair of thin wires led from the man’s chest, and some sort of plastic toy gun jerked back and forth at the end of the wires as the giant moved. Then the giant wrapped the wires around one hand and yanked them free of his chest, flinging them away.
Not a giant, Thomas. Not a giant at all.
Did Jakab just call him Thomas? His friend had never used his first name before. Time appeared to slow as he considered the significance of that. Of what exactly he was doing up here at the old mental asylum where the famous puppet maker Jakab Mézáros had been imprisoned and died. Of what he was trying to achieve.
The giant took a step closer to the Black Detective, seemingly unaware of Raymond standing by the wall. The shovel swung again, hissing in the air. The Black Detective was oblivious to Raymond too, all his attention focused on the giant. Raymond could leap out and surprise him, drive the knife home. End all his troubles.
Stab him!
Raymond took in wires lying slack on the floor. At the giant. At the Black Detective. Back at the giant, who Jakab had said wasn’t a giant at all.
Because those aren’t wires, Thomas, they’re strings!
A puppet, Raymond realised. A puppet free of its strings and with a life of its own.
The puppet took another step forwards and cornered the Black Detective close to the gate. The red-haired woman lay at his feet. The Black Detective could clamber over the gate, but that would leave the woman vulnerable. He could stay and face the puppet, but he’d be smashed to pieces.
Raymond shouted and the Black Detective looked across. There was a flicker of recognition as Raymond closed the distance to the puppet. He pulled his hand from inside his coat and thrust it forwards. The knife slipped into the soft flesh of the puppet’s stomach, and Raymond rotated the blade and drew it sideways and across. Then he stepped away, turned, and sprinted to his van.
You did it, Thomas, you did it! Now you’re free! Now we’re free!
Raymond smiled as he ran. Jakab had never thanked him or praised him for anything he’d done. He felt elated, as if he could walk on water or fly or do pretty much whatever he wanted to do.
Run, Raymond, run. That’s all you have to do.
So run Raymond did.
***
Savage lay on the ground, unable to move. The entire scene had played out in just a few seconds: The officer with the Taser firing and being attacked by Ben Kelly. Riley rounding the corner and seeing her lying injured. Kelly turning on Riley. A man in a long mackintosh springing from behind a wall, stabbing Kelly, and running off.
Kelly tumbled over, sprawling in the mud, squirming in agony. A grey mass flopped from a gash in his abdomen, and a flap of skin scraped the ground, blood washing over everything.
‘You OK?’ Riley bent to Savage for a moment.
‘Not really,’ she said through gritted teeth. Blood ran from a cut on her head and a wave of nausea swept over her. ‘But I’ll live.’
Riley pulled his jacket off and moved across to Kelly. He pressed the jacket against the man’s stomach. To Savage, it looked like he was trying to stop a jelly from slipping to the floor.
‘Sir!’ A uniformed officer came round the corner and knelt beside Riley. ‘Leave it. You’ll do more harm than good.’
The policeman attempted to calm Kelly as more officers arrived, two equipped with medkits. One attended to the stricken officer who’d fired the Taser, while another went over to Kelly. Riley stood and stepped back to give them space.
‘They’re traffic officers,’ Savage said as Riley came back over to her. ‘They see people squished in half every week. This is nothing.’
‘It was Thomas Raymond,’ Riley said, gesturing at Kelly. ‘Lord knows what he was doing up here, but he saved our lives.’
Savage glanced across at the two officers who were working on Kelly. He was struggling to breathe, and his face had turned ashen and weathered like the stone of the surrounding buildings. It was as if all the souls that had suffered here were sucking the colour from Kelly, draining his life force. One officer had a syringe out and was preparing an injection. The other officer looked over at Savage and Riley, held his hand o
ut flat and rocked it back and forth. Touch and go. Fifty-fifty.
‘Raymond said something,’ Riley said. ‘As he stabbed Kelly, he shouted something.’
‘Did you hear what it was?’
‘Yes,’ Riley answered. ‘He said this is for Jakab.’
Chapter 33
Savage spent the rest of the week at home recuperating. She had several stitches in the head wound and various bruises on her legs and body. The consultant said she had a mild concussion but no long-term damage. She limped into work the following Monday.
The first piece of news was that Hardin had reinstated her as the SIO on the Farlight case.
‘How come?’ she asked Collier.
‘All down to Marcus Clent, I’m afraid,’ Collier said. ‘He’s complaining about police brutality. Along with the fractured jaw, he’s got a detached retina, high blood pressure and a back injury. All very convenient. He’s in a luxury private room at the Nuffield, receiving regular visits from Amanda Bradley. As soon as the news got to the Chief Constable, DI Riley was instructed to play no further part in Farlight.’
‘I’m amazed she consented to my reinstatement.’
‘She had no choice. Hardin told her you cracked the case.’
‘What about Ben Kelly?’
‘He pulled through,’ Collier said. ‘Hardly surprising since he’s built like an ox. He was moved from intensive care into the high dependency unit on Saturday. DS Calter visited yesterday and established a strong rapport with him.’ Collier winked. ‘She’s his number one now.’
‘Suits me,’ Savage said.
‘Kelly has confessed to being involved in the murders of Dave Smeeton and Fiona Jones but claims Zac Francis was the one who actually did the killing. I’m not buying that, considering the horrific way he killed Francis and the claims in his letters about torturing animals. I think he took an equal part. Kelly claims Clent told him he was special, chosen by God to protect the community from harm, and the rhetoric left him in no doubt what he had to do. However, Francis was given direct orders. Clent had some kind of hold over him, and that led to his cooperation. From Kelly’s description of events, though, Francis enjoyed dealing with Fiona Jones.’
‘Can we charge Kelly with murder?’
‘Unlikely. The CPS has advised the best option will be to persuade him to plead guilty to manslaughter on the grounds of diminished responsibility. He’ll probably be spending the rest of his life in a secure hospital.’
‘Have you managed to get anything from the other residents?’
‘Two have broken rank. Ellie Anderson and a young woman named Jess Laker.’
‘Jess? She must be Bathsheba, the girl I spoke to on the moor. She was Abigail’s housemate at the squat.’
‘Yes. Both Ellie and Jess have made statements highlighting Clent’s coercive nature, his targeting of young, attractive female residents, and his threats to throw people out of the community. Members were scared to speak up, and there was a culture of intimidation and suspicion. Nobody wanted to get on the wrong side of Clent for fear of being labelled as an unbeliever. Ellie has explained that the incident on the bridge was triggered, as you guessed, by fears for her daughters. She believed Clent was grooming them to be replacement Brides of Christ. She feels that by speaking out now, she might persuade her missing daughter, Isobel, that it’s safe to return home.’ Collier gave a half smile. ‘We can but hope.’
‘What about Fiona Jones’s parents?’
‘We’ve still no idea who they are or where she came from. Her picture’s been all over the media, but nobody’s been in contact. I guess at some point a teacher, social worker, friend, or relative will come forwards.’
‘And back to Clent, nobody’s talked to him yet?’
‘No. Heldon’s orders are that we’re to wait until he’s recovered sufficiently.’ Collier flicked his head towards a terminal. ‘In the meantime, we need to work up an interview strategy, decide on the questions, and prepare the evidence. If you want to go through all the material now, we can get started on the job tomorrow.’
Savage grabbed a coffee and settled down to work. She read through Calter’s notes on Ben Kelly and clarified a few points with her. By mid-afternoon, she’d finished. She looked for Collier, but he’d disappeared.
Only one thing for it then.
***
At the hospital, she found a uniformed officer sitting on a bench outside the door to Clent’s room. He stood as she walked up the corridor.
‘Stitch up Savage, ma’am,’ the officer said, glancing at the top of her head. ‘That’s what they’re calling you. Get it?’
‘I’ll be taking names when I come out,’ Savage said, smiling.
Inside the room, Marcus Clent lay propped up in bed. There was dark bruising across his chin and jaw. He glared at Savage as she came in.
‘What the hell are you doing here?’ He flinched away from her as if she might strike him. ‘You and your mate have done enough harm already.’
‘As I understand it, you were resisting arrest and DI Riley was forced to defend himself.’ Savage closed the door and moved closer to the bed. ‘You were lucky it was him rather than me.’
‘I’ve got a wire in my jaw, palpitations, a possible detached retina, and I damaged my back when I fell.’
‘Is this genuine medical opinion or something contrived by Amanda Bradley?’
‘Don’t mock me, DI Savage. I shall be making a complaint to the IOPC. Aside from the assault, there was deliberate harassment, persecution of minorities, failure of care, and more. Amanda has recommended we sue Devon and Cornwall Police for substantial damages.’
‘Could be tricky from a prison cell.’
‘You’ve got nothing on me.’ Clent shifted in the bed. ‘Whereas I’ve got alibis and witnesses. I couldn’t have committed any of the murders.’
‘That won’t help you, Mr Clent. You ordered the killing of Dave Smeeton and Fiona Jones. That’s good enough to get you convicted.’
‘Zac Francis was the one who did the killing. Him and Ben Kelly. You must realise that by now.’
‘We have the forensic evidence, yes, but we also have testimony from residents at God’s Haven that when Abi, Fiona and Isobel vanished, you asked for help in tracking them down. You didn’t want them to reveal what had been happening at God’s Haven because you feared an investigation into your affairs. That would have threatened the community’s charitable status and probably led to its collapse.’
‘I never talked about harming them, I simply asked everyone to pray for a solution that could resolve our problems’
‘Whatever. But despite the prayers and everyone’s best efforts, the search for the girls proved fruitless. Then, six months later, Abigail’s body was discovered in the wood, and it became imperative the remaining two girls were found and silenced before the truth came out.’
‘Listen to yourself. It’s unreal, DI Savage.’
‘It was real enough, Mr Clent, especially when it appeared as if your prayers had been answered by the reappearance of Fiona Jones under the alias, Faye. Her face was all over the news after the stabbing of DC Naomi Hester, and you made contact with Zac Francis and told him he was to track her down and kill her.’
‘I did nothing of the sort.’
‘With Ben Kelly, you compared the situation to war and said sometimes evil could be justified if it preserved the sacred.’
‘A play on words, no more.’ Clent smiled. ‘It’s what preachers do.’
‘Kelly doesn’t see it like that. He believed the directives you gave him were edicts from God. By obeying your instructions, he was carrying out God’s will.’
‘Ben can’t be trusted. He’s mentally subnormal. He received a head injury that substantially changed his character. It’s all in his medical records. I can see now he must have taken my pronouncements literally, but I can’t be blamed for his actions.’
‘And what about Zac Francis? After you saved his life in prison, you had some kind of
hold over him, and he was foolish enough to take you into his confidence. I think he admitted to other attacks the police didn’t know about. He told you the dates and the names of the women involved. He confided in you, believing he’d receive some sort of absolution from God if he confessed his guilt. Little did he know you’d blackmail him into doing your dirty work. If he didn’t do what you said, you’d leak the information. There’d be a new investigation and Francis’s parole would be revoked. At some point, he’d have faced fresh charges. He’d be sentenced to another long term.’
‘Pure conjecture.’
‘We’ll see. It’s early days yet. There’s plenty of time to gather more substantial evidence, plenty of time for some of those women to come forward now they no longer need to be scared of Francis.’
‘I didn’t kill him.’
‘I’m not sure about that. When the heat became too much last week, you offered Francis a bolthole so he could hide away. He accepted your offer, but I wonder if all along you intended to dispose of him. You see, Ben Kelly is so beholden to your words that he’ll do whatever you want. You simply had to plant a seed about Francis’s cruelty, and Kelly would take it – quite literally – as gospel.’
‘Frankly, I’m embarrassed for you.’ Clent sighed. ‘It’s all supposition. A guessing game. Just as with Abigail Duffy. There’s no evidence to suggest I killed her either.’
‘That’s because you had nothing to do with her death. Ben Kelly said he doesn’t remember killing her and, when I asked Francis who did, he said, quote, “not us.” Yes, Abigail went missing on the day before the wedding ceremony, but you weren’t responsible. Still, that’s when all the trouble started. When she disappeared, the other two brides got cold feet and ran away. That was a problem because Isobel Anderson was only sixteen years old. No matter how you tried to spin it, the marriage didn’t look good, considering you were in a position of authority. You realised your predilection for younger and younger girls had finally caught up with you, but for the first few months, you didn’t worry unduly. Then Abigail’s body was discovered, and you decided the other two brides needed to be found and either returned to God’s Haven or shut up for good. They were well aware of the abuse you presided over, and if their stories had come out, it would have been disastrous.’