Prosper shrugged. “How should I know.” But of course he knew. It was all part of Jerel’s plan to give himself an alibi when the murder took place. How cruelly ironic that he was now dead. Too damn ironic. And too coincidental too. What were the chances that the Oracle had targeted Jerel randomly? Probably the same as there were people in the country, which made it something like 60 million to one, give or take a few million. And those sorts of odds just didn’t add up. No way on earth.
That only left one possible reason. The Oracle had specifically targeted Jerel because he had instigated a plan to frame the Oracle for a murder he didn’t commit. But how did he know? How the hell did he goddamn know?
Jill seated herself at her desk and tapped away at the computer keyboard. After a couple of seconds, she looked up. “The word ‘deceiver’. It means ‘to mislead by deliberate misrepresentation or lies’. A more archaic meaning is ‘to disappoint’. But then when you look at the biblical significance of the photograph, a crown of nails in place of a crown of thorns, well you can find deceiver mentioned in the bible. ‘JOB 12:16. The deceived and the deceiver are his’. Any idea what that means?”
Prosper shook his head. Outwardly, considering the circumstances, he hoped he looked calm. Inside he was churning up. Of course he knew what it meant. He and his friends were the deceivers, but he couldn’t admit knowing that, because then he would have to admit to murder.
But how had the Oracle found Jerel, unless ...
... unless one of his friends was the Oracle.
The thought seemed ridiculous. Stupid. Crazy. He tried to shut it out, but then his thoughts turned to Wolfe. He had been only too eager to kill Hatchet Man, and then when he started the mutilation, he had been unmoved, almost clinical.
It couldn’t be him though, could it? No, of course not.
But discounting the power of prophesy that the killer’s name alluded to, how else would the Oracle know about them and what they had done if he wasn’t one of them?
Prosper stood up and lurched towards the toilet.
“Are you all right?” Jill asked.
Prosper didn’t answer. Couldn’t.
He barged through the door and into the stall to lean over the toilet where he vomited, his throat burning with acid bile as his previous meal made an unwelcome reappearance.
Could Wolfe really be the Oracle?
He couldn’t believe it. Didn’t want to believe it.
But perhaps it wasn’t Wolfe. Perhaps it was Ty, or Paris? Even though he didn’t want to believe it was any of them, it had to be. Why else would Jerel have been killed? Who else knew what they’d done?
Once his stomach settled, he washed his face and then exited the room, still shaking, shirt open, sweat trickling down his chest. He noticed his pale, corpse-like reflection in the glass door across the room.
“Sir. Are you alright now?” Jill asked.
Prosper nodded.
Jill placed a hand on his shoulder. “It must be a shock, seeing someone you know butchered like that.”
Like you wouldn’t believe.
Mike looked at them from across the room, and even though they hadn’t done anything wrong, Prosper felt guilty.
He noticed Chief Superintendent Hargreaves talking to Mike. His grey haired superior turned and stared at Prosper. He nodded at something Mike said and then walked across the room.
“I’m sorry to hear about your friend,” he said.
Prosper nodded but didn’t reply.
“I think that under the circumstances you should step down and let someone else take charge of the investigation. You’re too personally involved.”
Prosper shook his head vigorously. “Sir, I can understand your concerns, but I can do this.”
Hargreaves stared at him, his bushy eyebrows like two caterpillars meeting at the bridge of his nose as he frowned. “If you give me any reason to believe you’re not up to it—”
“I won’t,” Prosper said.
Hargreaves nodded. “Keep me informed of any developments.” Then he walked away.
Prosper returned to his desk. Jill followed him and sat on the edge, her legs crossed.
“Do you want to talk about it? It might help, and it might help us with the investigation. I mean, it’s a little strange that one of your acquaintances is dead when you’re leading the hunt for the killer. Do you think that’s the reason he was killed?” Notebook and pen in hand, she slipped the pen cap in her mouth and pulled the pen out, obviously not taking no for an answer.
“Well he was ... thirty four. After leaving school he joined the army. Left recently. He’s married ... Was married,” he corrected himself, “... to Christine, and he’s got one daughter, Katie. Jesus. Poor Katie.”
“Did you keep in touch, you know, after school?”
Prosper licked his lips, tasting bile in his throat. “Yes, I saw him now and again, but I haven’t seen him for years now as he was posted abroad. We’re no longer close, if that’s what you mean.”
“There’s no need to be defensive.” She scribbled some notes as she continued. “When did you last see him?”
Prosper felt like a suspect. “I don’t know. It was before I met Natasha, my wife, so about six, seven years ago maybe.” Could she tell he was lying?
“Did he have any enemies?”
“Enemies! How the hell should I know? Didn’t you just hear what I said?”
Jill tapped the pen against her teeth, deliberating. “So why do you think the Oracle killed him?”
“It’s either coincidence, or it could be like you said, that it has something to do with me, I wish to God I knew.”
“Well if it was because you’re leading the case, we’d better start compiling a list of all your friends to warn them to be extra vigilant. And we’d better get someone to watch your family, just to be safe.”
Prosper nodded, his head spinning, thoughts churning over like clothes in a spin dryer.
Jill put her notebook and pen away. “Do you want me to tell his wife?”
“No. It’ll be better coming from me.”
“Are you sure you’re up to it?”
Prosper nodded. “Mike, see if you can compile a list of the portraits in the photograph.” He stood up. “Come on, Jill. Let’s not leave it until the reporters get there first. He deserves better than that. They all do.”
Jerel’s house sat at the end of a row of terraced properties that backed straight onto the pavement. Despite its less than stellar location, the property reflected the time and money spent doing it up.
Prosper hesitated at the door. A couple of kids across the road shouted obscenities at each other as they kicked a ball up and down the street.
He swallowed to wet his dry throat and then knocked, half-hoping Christine wasn’t in.
When Christine answered the door, her expression went from morose to puzzlement to alarm.
“Prosper, what … what are you doing here?” she asked.
He couldn’t help noticing the bruising around her eye, and that she appeared to be favouring one side as she leaned against the doorframe. “Christine ... I—”
“It’s Jerel isn’t it?” She ran a hand through her long, brown hair and bit her lower lip.
“Christine, I’m so sorry.” Prosper didn’t know what else to say.
“Nooooo,” Christine wailed, staggering slightly.
Prosper reached out and grabbed her before she fell, and then helped her into the house.
In the living room, Prosper helped her onto the couch where she sat shaking, her head in her hands.
“Constable ... Jill, will you go into the kitchen and make Christine a coffee please.” Jill nodded and walked away.
Prosper moved aside a pillow and blanket and sat next to Christine, putting an arm around her shoulder. “I’m sorry. I really am.” He wondered whether Jerel had mentioned their recent meeting. Whether she knew what they’d done. If Christine mentioned it, Jill would know he’d lied. He suppressed a shiver. “It’s b
een a long time,” he said.
Christine wiped her eyes and reached for a box of tissues. She noisily blew her nose.
“How did it happen?” she asked. “He was upset. Did he kill himself?”
Prosper frowned and then shook his head. Kill himself! It wasn’t the response he expected. “No, he didn’t kill himself. I take it you’ve heard of the Oracle?”
“The psycho killer? What ... you don’t mean ...” She shook her head, a fresh wave of tears rolling down her cheeks.
“I’m afraid so.”
She buried her head in Prosper’s chest and he put his other arm around her and hugged her to him, making her wince. Prosper relaxed his hold.
“Why? Why Jerel?” she mumbled.
As he silently hugged Christine, he briefly recalled the one night stand he had had with her and a bolt of shame ran through him. How could I have done that to my friend? How could either of us have betrayed him like that?
When Jill walked back into the room, she placed the cup of coffee on the low table next to a TV listing magazine and a copy of The Sun newspaper still running a story about the Oracle on the front page.
“How is she?” Jill mouthed.
Prosper shook his head.
He looked around the room. A photograph of their six year old daughter, Katie hung on the wall. Prosper thought she looked a lot more like Christine than Jerel; although she looked a little chubby, she carried it well. She was cute. Another photograph taken in the desert of Jerel and his army pals posing around a damaged enemy tank stood on the mantelpiece. Jerel stood at the front, gun slung across his back, one foot on a pile of enemy weapons, smiling. Prosper turned away.
When Christine finally stopped crying, she sat up. “Sorry,” she said, indicating Prosper’s tear-stained shirt.
“That’s OK. It’s only a shirt.”
Christine nodded. “Did he tell you ... you know?” She sniffled.
Prosper assumed she was referring to the rape, but he couldn’t talk about it with Jill around, so he nodded.
Did she know she was the catalyst for everything that happened? Everything had come full circle. She obviously knew more than she was letting on as she would have seen that the Oracle had supposedly killed the man who raped her, but she couldn’t talk about it without opening herself up to more questions. She probably suspected Jerel’s involvement, but did she have any hard evidence? Had he told her of his plan? Prosper couldn’t just come out and ask her in case he dropped himself in it, but there were so many things he wanted to ask.
He saw Jill looking at him and the panic returned, bubbling through his veins. If Christine did say anything, even the slightest slip of the tongue ...
“You’re a good friend,” Christine said, forcing a weak smile. “I’ll never forget that.” She started crying again and buried her head back in his chest.
Jill frowned, looked thoughtful. “When did you last see your husband?”
“A few days ago,” Christine said, her voice muffled by Prosper’s shirt.
“So why didn’t you report his disappearance?”
Christine looked up. “We’d had an argument. He went off by himself. He likes his own company. It’s how he copes with things. I’ve learned to live with it over the years. The army … it affects some people like that.” She sobbed the last few words and started crying again.
“What was the argument about?” Jill asked.
Prosper held his hand up. “Now isn’t the time.”
Christine nodded at Prosper and then buried her face in her hands, sobbing uncontrollably.
When Christine composed herself, Prosper asked, “Where’s Katie?”
“She’s at my parents. I didn’t think she should be here, you know, with us arguing.”
Prosper nodded. “I think you should be there too. You shouldn’t be on your own at a time like this. Come on, pack a few things and we’ll drive you over.”
Christine stood up and walked across the room, wincing and holding her side. When she was out of earshot, Jill said, “What was that about?”
“What was what about?”
“She asked if he told you something, and you nodded. I thought you said you hadn’t seen him in years.”
Prosper scowled. “I’m still a friend to the both of them. I spoke to him on the phone. Do you have a problem with that?”
Jill blushed and shook her head. She consulted her notebook, absently flicking through the pages. After a moment, she said, “With nothing else to go on, now hadn’t we better check out this
Pearl Street lead?” Prosper’s hands shook and he chewed his lower lip. Despite his reservations, and to avoid making Jill more suspicious, he had no choice but to agree.
CHAPTER 30
Jill drove with one hand on the steering wheel, elbow resting on the panel of the door, her free hand tapping against her thigh. Lots of things about this case didn’t add up. Like why the witness that came forward, Gideon Robinson, said that Prosper was at the scene of the crime when Hatchet Man was abducted. Also, why had he said there was more than one perpetrator? Did he fabricate the story? Or could he really have seen something? Was one of the people he saw someone who looked like Prosper? And then there was her superior’s hostile attitude towards the witness. Was he hiding something? Perhaps she should question Robinson again on her own. Have him work with an artist to make a photo-fit of the person he saw.
Prosper’s outright refusal to believe what the witness said wasn’t realistic. In a case like this they needed to follow every lead, no matter how vague. And an eyewitness was more than vague. It was possibly the only concrete evidence they had.
“It’s got to be more than a coincidence that the Oracle’s killed someone you know,” she said, breaking the silence.
Prosper shrugged. “Well when you know what that reason is, be sure to let me know.”
Jill glanced at him, noticed that his jaw was clenched, eyes narrowed as he focused on the road ahead, a nervous twitch making his right eye flutter.
Although she didn’t know Prosper very well, she had noticed a distinct change in him since the killings started making him sullen and moody.
There was something going on. She just needed to find out what it was.
As they reached their destination, a headache pounded at Prosper’s temples and he felt short of breath. What if he’d missed something? What if Robinson was right? What if there was a blood stain he’d failed to spot?
“I wouldn’t have made the connection with Robinson’s statement if Mr. Taylor hadn’t mentioned it as well. Don’t you think it’s strange?” Jill said as she slowed the car.
“What?”
“That both of them should mention
Pearl Street.” “It’s probably nothing more than coincidence. That Robinson was a bloody nutter.”
“Yes, but it makes you wonder. Perhaps he did see someone, and perhaps that someone looked just like you. Well, we can’t ignore it.”
What a pity. “No, of course we can’t, but I’ve just had to tell my friend’s wife that her husband’s been murdered, so excuse me if I’m not altogether with it at the moment.”
“Yes, but there might be a clue here. You do want to find your friend’s killer, don’t you?” She looked at him, eyes twinkling with something akin to accusation.
“Of course I want to find him.”
As they approached the alley, memories flooded back. Bad memories. Nightmare memories.
Jill stopped the car and said, “This must be the place.”
They exited the vehicle, and Prosper’s heart sank.
The terraced houses backed onto the alley, shielding them from the sun. The long shadows of the houses cast a depressing gloom over the area and Prosper stuffed his hands in his pockets.
“What exactly are we looking for?” he asked.
Jill took out her notebook, flicked through it. “Robinson said, ‘If you want proof, go to the alley between
Cushing Road and Pearl Street. That’s where they
did it. There’s blood there’.” “Yes, but at the time, the lunatic was talking as though I had done something. I really think we’re wasting our time here.”
“We’ve got plenty of time,” Jill said, placing her notebook back in her pocket.
“Tell that to the next victim, Constable.”
Jill scowled. “Well, perhaps Robinson was confused, but perhaps he did see something. It won’t hurt to look.”
Not for you maybe. Leading the way, Prosper started to walk along the alley, his eyes peeled for any sign of the bloodstains.
“Perhaps we should knock on a few doors, ask people if they saw or heard anything suspicious lately,” Jill suggested.
“That takes manpower we haven’t got, not without good reason.”
“I would have thought two statements that mention the same road was reason enough.”
“One from a nutter, the other from a bereaved father,” he said again, hoping he wasn’t trying too hard to dissuade Jill. He spied what looked like a stain on the ground up ahead. “Perhaps you’re right. Why don’t you go and knock on a few doors while I carry on searching back here.” He stared at her, heart clogging his throat. He could order her to go and knock on doors, but that would be too much of an about face.
“I think we need to call in the scene of crime officers to make a thorough search. Remember that clue on the wall where Jane Numan was abducted, well perhaps there’s something like that here too.”
“We need a lot more proof before they’ll sanction this as a crime scene. Like I said, you knock on a few doors, and I’ll have a scout around out here.”
“Well, call me if you find anything.”
“Oh, I will, don’t worry.”
He watched her walk away; saw her turn around at the end of the alley to look back at him before she disappeared around the corner.
Prosper Snow Series Page 14
