“What’s that got to do with anything?”
“How old are you?” he persisted.
“22.”
“And how long have you worked at the Mail?”
“Six months. It’s my first job since leaving University, where I got a degree in Journalism. Look, I—”
“So you’re a bit green to say the least,” Crane cut in.
At that remark Diane had the grace to blush. “Maybe I am,” she said recovering and sitting up straight in the metal chair, “but it doesn’t mean I’m not good at my job.”
“No, it doesn’t,” Crane conceded. “You’re just a bit over enthusiastic. Look, Diane,” Crane leaned across the small space between them, “this isn’t some American work of fiction, where a femme fatal of a journalist gets a scoop by co-operating with a maverick detective. This is real life. Aldershot, for God’s sake. Stop reading things into things. There isn’t a conspiracy in everything you know.” He sat back to see her reaction.
“I know that, Crane. I’m merely trying to foster good relations between the garrison and my paper.”
“Okay,” he said drawing out the word. “Then in that case, foster good relations and stop trying to blackmail me with things that aren’t true. Get your editor to print my artist’s impression on the front page, leave the Crooks case alone and I promise to keep you abreast of developments. How’s that?”
“Not ‘abreast of developments’, I want exclusive interviews.”
“Excuse me?”
“I’ll accept your proposal if you give me exclusive interviews.”
“You drive a hard bargain, Diane. But you’ve got yourself a deal,” said Crane, stretching his hand across the table to shake hers.
Crane watched Diane Chambers leave the café as happy as if she’d just won the lottery and shook his head at the naivety of some people. He had no more intention of giving her an exclusive interview than he had of buying a luxury yacht.
Chapter Thirty-Eight
On Friday and Saturday, Crane and Anderson hovered by the telephones as various constables and junior detectives took calls from concerned members of the public – concerned with getting their five minutes of fame, that was. Crane had met his fair share of weirdoes in the past, but the civilian population of Aldershot were a breed unto themselves.
They watched the appeals on the local TV stations in Anderson’s cramped office. BBC and ITV aired the artist’s impression of Zechariah for about 10 seconds, with a grave warning by the announcer not to approach the man but to call the Aldershot Police hotline.
“Oh well,” sighed Anderson, zapping the TV mounted on the wall with the remote control. “Short and sweet. At least they did the piece.”
“Don’t they normally?”
“Depends on what else is happening at the time. A good murder or something will take most of the slot available for local crime. Let’s see if we’ve done any better in the local papers,” he finished as a constable entered the office, staggering under the weight of the Aldershot Mail, Aldershot News, Evening Post, Farnham Herald, Surrey Chronicle and all the subsidiary editions.
By the time Crane and Anderson had poured over them, the local papers were strewn all over the desk in Anderson’s office. All the newspapers had included the item somewhere in their pages, but the Aldershot Mail, courtesy of Diane Chambers had, as usual, gone completely overboard. There was a large picture of the photo fit on the front page with a lurid warning that this man could be armed and dangerous. Her piece then went on to speculate about the local drugs trade and a spate of burglaries in the area. Could this man be involved? Who knew? Certainly not Diane Chambers, Crane and Anderson decided.
As a result of this extended publicity, there were many calls from police informants, or those wishing to be police informants, saying that they thought the mystery man was involved in the local drug’s trade. They wanted paying for the information, of course, which in all cases turned out to be false, saving Anderson a great deal of money.
Other calls came from concerned citizens who had witnessed a man running away from houses that had recently been burgled. Is there a reward, they wanted to know?
All in all, it added up to a big fat zero.
Chapter Thirty-Nine
On Monday morning, after a Sunday when Crane managed to resist the temptation to go to another service at the Church of Jesus is King, he was just leaving to go to the garrison, when Tina walked into the kitchen.
“Morning love,” he called cheerfully, draining the last of his coffee. Putting it down on the kitchen table, he moved to kiss her. “I’m just off now, see you tonight.” He carried on talking while he gathered his briefcase and coat and tied his shoe laces. “We’ve got a big divisional meeting this morning. Something about ‘setting parameters for co-ordinating effort between Special Investigation Branches’, or some such bollocks. I seem to have been co-opted by Edwards, supposedly because I have actual hands on experience of this stuff. More like because he doesn’t want to get involved. It’s going to be as boring as hell, but there you go, I mustn’t be late.”
“Tom,” her voice stopped him as he got to the front door.
“Yes, love?” he turned to face her, hoping the wariness in his eyes wasn’t evident.
“I’ve been meaning to talk to you…” her voice trailed off.
“About?”
“You know what about, Tom,” she said turning away from him and going to fill the sink with water.
Walking back into the kitchen he put his hands on her shoulders and turned her to face him. “Sweetheart, why didn’t you say anything earlier? We’ve had all weekend when we could have talked.”
“All weekend?” she glared at him.
“Alright, I know I worked on Saturday following up leads from the hotline, but we had Sunday.”
Turning back to the sink she said, “I suppose I didn’t want to spoil the one day we had of our weekend. Do you think we could talk tonight please?” her voice had dropped to a whisper, so he had to strain to hear her.
“Of course,” he agreed planting a kiss on the back of her head, not wanting to argue first thing in the morning. “I promise I won’t be late,” he called as he left the house.
***
The meeting went on much longer than it should, as these things always do. Crane was coerced into staying for lunch, rather than returning to barracks in the break and so it was almost 16:00 hours when he eventually arrived at the SIB office.
He found a flustered Kim waiting for him.
“Thank God you’re back, sir,” she said following him into his office at a run. “I was just about to get them to interrupt the meeting.”
“What on earth for, Kim?” he said as he put his stuff away and hung up his coat. As he turned to look at her, he saw she was looking worried. “Sit down, Kim, take a deep breath and tell me all about it.”
“It’s Billy, sir, or rather Billy’s sister, or rather his nephew. Oh God, it’s coming out all wrong!”
Crane had never seen her so upset, gone was the cool calm exterior that he knew so well. Whatever had happened was causing not just chinks, but major cracks in her professional armour. She was alternating between wringing her hands together and running them through her hair, which was no longer neatly tied up, but falling around her face and shoulders.
In between more false starts and gulps, the problem became clear. Billy’s sister Sue had telephoned Kim, asking if Billy was there. Kim looked around the office and realised he was missing. She quickly checked the log to find that he’d left the office at lunch time and not returned. Having to admit that to Sue produced an almighty wail. It appeared that she’d gone to school to pick Shaun up at 3.30pm as usual but Shaun wasn’t there. He’d gone off with Billy.
“I’m sorry, sir, I know I was supposed to keep tabs on Billy and follow him if he went out, but he just seems to have given me the slip. He said he was going to get a sandwich for lunch and wouldn’t be long. He was even going to bring me one back! I c
ouldn’t go with him because Captain Edwards needed some figures collating for this afternoon and I was so engrossed in them I didn’t notice Billy hadn’t come back.”
“Don’t worry, Kim, it’s not your fault. What’s Sue’s number?”
Getting Sue’s mobile phone number from Kim, Crane immediately called her. Sue answered at the first ring.
“Billy?”
“No, Sue, sorry it’s Sergeant Major Crane, from the Special Investigations Branch. Where are you now please?”
“Oh God, I’m at home. I left Rosie with a friend and ran all the way back. But he’s not here!” Crane held the phone away from his ear. Sue’s voice had risen so much, she was screaming.
“Sue, please calm down.” He heard gulping sobs at the other end of the phone. “Sue please,” he continued, “I can’t help you unless you tell me exactly what happened.”
“I……I went to St Saviour’s School in Ash as usual at 3.30 to pick Shaun up. But he didn’t come out with his other classmates. I stood in line as one by one the children filed past Mrs Hale, the teacher. They’re not allowed to leave the classroom until their parent is present.”
“That’s better, Sue,” he encouraged. “What happened then?”
Taking a deep breath Sue continued, “As the last child left Mrs Hale looked surprised to see me and turned to go back into the classroom. I called out and grabbed her by the arm, demanding to know where Shaun was. She told me that he was with Billy.” Sue began to quietly cry. After a few moments she continued. “Apparently Billy had gone to the school at lunch time, as I was supposedly unwell and had been taken to hospital. Billy was going to take Shaun to see me. That’s when we realised something was seriously wrong and went straight to the headmistress. I telephoned the barracks from the school and spoke to Kim.”
By now Sue was sobbing loudly again and Crane had to shout to be heard. “Sue! Sue!”
“Yes?”
“Sue, I’m going to put Kim on the phone while I get this sorted out. Just talk to her until you’ve calmed down.” Without waiting for a reply, he covered the receiver. “Just keep her talking and occupied. See if she can get someone to sit with her. I’m going to ring Anderson and then get over there.”
“Over where, sir?”
“The Church of Jesus is our bloody King!”
Chapter Forty
As Kim talked to Sue, Crane rung Derek Anderson. He explained what had happened and Anderson agreed to send someone round to Sue’s house immediately. Crane particularly wanted to know if Billy had been attending the Church of Jesus is King and taking Shaun with him, so asked that the attending police officers find that out as quickly as possible and for Derek to ring him on his mobile with the information.
“What are you going to do, Crane?”
“Go to that bloody Church.”
“What the hell for?”
“Because I have a feeling whatever is going down is happening there and sooner rather than later.”
“I’m warning you, Crane, don’t cause any trouble and—”
Crane put down the phone cutting off Anderson’s diatribe and ran for his car.
In the five minutes or so that it took for Crane to arrive at the church, turning left out of the barracks, along Queens Avenue and then right into Aldershot at the bottom of the hill, Anderson had walked from the police station and was waiting for Crane in the car park.
“Thought I’d join you, Crane,” he explained, leaning against the car. “You seemed in too much of a hurry before to explain what the hell you’re doing, so I thought I’d give you the opportunity to do it now.”
Realising that he needed help and back up, Crane ran through the events that caused him to think Billy and Shaun were in the church.
“Firstly, some mornings Billy’s been dazed and sleepy. Not with it. One day he actually overslept, which is unheard of for him.”
“He’s a young lad, Crane. Maybe it was just the after effects of being out with the lads?”
Ignoring the question, Crane continued, “Secondly, he’s been missing from the office on a couple of afternoons. Logging out with a fictitious reason and not returning to the office until the next day. I’ve covered for him with Captain Edwards, but I think it’s suspicious.”
“Fair enough. Anything else?”
Giving up on counting Crane continued, “I’m sure I saw him when we went to the church the other Sunday. As I was watching the crowds leave, I caught a glimpse of the back of someone that reminded me of Billy and he was leading a young boy by the hand.”
“That’s not much to go on, Crane, anything else?” Anderson asked, still lounging against Crane’s car.
Before imparting the next reason, Crane lit a cigarette with trembling hands. “Billy wanted to go undercover at the church, posing as a father with Shaun as his son.”
“Bloody hell!” Anderson stood up straight.
“I know, Derek,” agreed Crane, drawing deeply. As he exhaled, he carried on speaking. “I warned him off and gave him strict orders not to do that. But…” Crane shrugged, “well now I’m not so sure. I had him followed by Kim one night but he only went to a parent’s evening as his sister Sue couldn’t go. Which made me feel a bit stupid at the time.” Crane paused for another drag. “Honestly, Derek, I still think he’s been going to this bloody church,” he emphasised the point by raising his arm and gesturing towards the nearby building.
Just then Anderson’s mobile rang. Looking at the caller ID he said, “Hang on a minute, Crane, it’s the officers reporting in from Sue’s house.” After a few grunts and then a groan, Anderson closed the phone. “Looks like you could be right,” he had to admit. “Billy’s been taking Shaun to the church for a few weeks now. Apparently Shaun really loves going to the junior church and Sue couldn’t see any harm in it so-”
Derek didn’t finish his sentence as he was interrupted by Crane’s mobile.
“Kim?” Her voice was high pitched and tinny in Crane’s ear, the words jumbling and falling over each other. “Calm down, Kim, I can’t understand a word you’re saying. Take a deep breath and start again.”
“Sorry, sir.” Kim paused for breath and Crane waited. “I’m alright now. I’ve been looking at the incident board,” she began.
“Haven’t we all, Kim, time after time, what’s new about that?” Crane was restless, pacing backwards and forwards.
“It’s the dates and times, sir.”
“The dates and times of what? Sorry, Kim, you’ve lost me.”
“All the murder suicides. Just listen, sir.”
“Wait a moment, Kim,” Crane paused to put the phone on speaker. “Okay Derek can hear now. Carry on,”
“If we look at the dates and times of the murder suicides, Solomon at 16:00 hours on the 16th of August. John Sergeant at 23:00 hours on the 23rd September. Peter Fisher at 09:00 hours on the 9th October…”
“Oh sweet Jesus.” Crane stopped pacing and stared in horror at Anderson.
“Exactly, sir, it’s the 18th of November.”
“That means it could be happening at 18:00 hours today.” Crane looked at his watch. “That gives me an hour. Thanks Kim.” Crane cut the call and put the phone back in his pocket.
“Right, that does it for me. I’ve got to get inside that building.” Crane threw his cigarette down and ground it out with his shoe.
“But why the church, Crane?” Anderson held Crane back. “Why not Billy’s place? All the other murders were done at home.”
“Because Billy lives in single men’s quarters on the garrison. He can’t take anyone there without permission and certainly not a child. So he has to have brought him here.”
The two men ran down the street until they came to the converted cinema. From the front, the only way in was the large doors, which were closed. Crane marched up to them and tried the handle. Locked. He rattled it and was about to put his shoulder to the door to try and force it open, when Anderson put his hand out to stop him.
“What the hell ar
e you doing, Crane?”
“Trying to get in, Derek, what do you think I’m doing?”
“Trying to break your shoulder. You’ll never force a door like that, Crane. Look at the bloody size of it.”
Crane took a step back and admitted Anderson was right. The door towered above him and was probably about eight feet high and double the width of a normal door. It was made of polished oak.
“Alright then, what do you suggest?”
“Let’s have a look around the back. Come on this way.”
Crane followed Anderson back towards the car park but his friend veered off to the right before he reached it. He ran down an alley, full of empty cardboard boxes and crates from the pub and supermarket on the main street opposite the alley and an odd collection of filthy blankets and quilts.
“One of the favourite haunts of the local homeless,” Anderson explained.
The alley opened onto the back of the buildings where the cinema was located. As they rounded the corner, the cinema loomed above them and Crane had a sense of what a formidable building it was. Solid, strong and seemingly impenetrable. The ground floor windows on this side were covered with wire mesh and bars and the fire exit was a metal door clearly barred from the inside. There was not so much as a handle on the outside.
After spending a few moments looking up at the sheer walls, Crane came to a decision and raced back towards the alley. “Come on, Derek, give me a hand!”
“What the hell?”
“Come on,” Crane cried from the corner of the alleyway. Not bothering to wait for Anderson, Crane ran into the alley and began collecting the beer crates. As Anderson rounded the corner he shouted, “Grab as many of these as you can.”
With an armful of crates Crane stumbled round to the back of the cinema. He was stacking the crates when Anderson caught up with him.
“Quick, put them here on top of each other, against this drain pipe. Look up there.” Crane was pointing to a casement window set in the middle of and higher than the ground floor ones. The glass was frosted and the top half of the window was ajar on a stay. “I reckon that’s the toilets. If I grab this drain pipe and use the beer crates to help, I could climb up the wall and get in through the window.” Crane was ripping off his jacket and rolling up his shirt sleeves as he spoke. “I’ve got to get in there, Derek. I think Billy and Shaun, but more importantly Zechariah, are in there.
A Soldier's Honour Box Set 1 (Sgt Major Crane Crime Thrillers Box Set) Page 19
