“Are you married Mr Smith?” Stepan said.
“No,” Smith replied.
“Girlfriend?”
“Not at the moment, why?”
“That explains it then. When I walked through the door after seven days away with a man, a reasonably handsome one at that, you can understand that Lucas here would get a bit upset. What else was he to think?”
“I don’t get it,” Smith said, “wait a minute, you’re both…”
“Gay,” Lucas said, “it’s not a rude word.”
“Shit,” Smith said, “sorry, I didn’t realise.”
“Your condolences are appreciated Mr Smith,” Stepan said, “but they’re not really necessary. This is the modern world.”
“I didn’t mean it like that. Can we start this conversation again?”
Lucas laughed.
“Going back to what you said about putting us in danger,” he said, “We are Estonians; danger is in our blood. Do you realise that the Estonia you see today is less than twenty years old; we have been invaded by Denmark, Sweden, Poland, Germany and of course Russia many times but we are proud and we fight for what we believe in.”
“What language do you speak?” Smith said, “It doesn’t sound like Russian.”
“It’s more like Finnish,” Stepan replied, “it’s a beautiful language; very poetic.”
“Finish your drink,” Lucas ordered, “we’re meeting a friend of ours in fifteen minutes. We’ll walk; it’s only a few hundred metres. Do you need to borrow a coat?”
“That would be great,” Smith replied, “its bloody freezing here.”
SIXTY
DEAD END
“Where is he?” Chalmers asked Whitton. He looked around nervously.
“Interview room one sir,” she replied.
“We’d better be bloody careful. If the Super gets wind of this we’re in shit, especially after his presentation this morning.”
“He won’t find out sir; I think he’s gone home for the day anyway.”
“Just be careful anyway, if it becomes known that we’re still investigating the Willow murder we’ll both be looking for another job.”
“Would you mind sitting in with me sir,” Whitton asked, “he doesn’t know you and I reckon a new opinion of him will help.”
“Ok. If you think so. What have you got on him?”
“I spoke to all of the law firms that Willow did consultancy work for. One of them prosecuted a woman for manslaughter; she killed her boss in a rage after he abused her. It seems like Martin Willow’s report doomed this woman to a few years in a mental home.”
“What’s this got to do with our suspect?”
“The woman was his wife.”
“So he kills Willow’s wife in revenge,” Chalmers said, “seems far fetched if you ask me.”
“There’s more sir,” Whitton said, “this woman was pregnant and Willow stated in another report that the woman was not fit to look after a baby.”
“Still doubtful,” Chalmers insisted.
“She killed herself sir. The baby died too. I think Willow’s wife was killed to avenge the death of our guy’s own wife. He tried to kill Penny Willow too. It fits exactly with Bridge’s eye for an eye theory.”
“Let’s go and speak to your friend Dave then.”
Dave was sitting in Interview room one by himself. The door opened and Whitton and Chalmers walked in.
“Good Afternoon Miss Whitton,” Dave said.
“Hello Dave,” she said, “this is Detective Inspector Chalmers; he’s going to sit in with me while I ask you a few questions.”
“Anything for you,” Dave said, “shouldn’t you have a tape going?”
“That won’t be necessary; this is just a friendly chat.”
“Will it take long?” Dave asked, “I have to be back at work this evening.”
“Then let’s begin,” Chalmers said, “Mr Lin, you knew Martin Willow didn’t you?”
“I only found out when I read about the trial,” Dave said, “before then I wouldn’t have known him if I’d bumped into him in the street.”
“So you didn’t recognise him when you drove him home on Christmas Eve?”
“No, not at all.”
“You weren’t present at your wife’s trial?” Whitton asked.
“I was,” Dave said, “but that was a long time ago.”
“So you can’t remember the Psychology expert who declared that your wife was mentally ill?”
“Like I said, it was a long time ago and there were so many witnesses during the trial.”
“But only one of them pretty much determined your wife’s fate.”
“That’s not true, there were plenty of people involved in that; the judge with the funny voice; the prosecutor, even my own lawyer was pretty useless.”
“So you didn’t kill Martin Willow’s wife in revenge?” Chalmers said.
“Of course not,” Dave protested, “I couldn’t hurt anyone. Miss Whitton knows that and Mr Smith. Where is Mr Smith?”
“He’s away,” Chalmers said, “Let’s get back to the night when you drove Martin Whitton and his family home. I believe you have an extraordinary memory?”
“That’s right,” Dave smiled. “I picked them up at midnight and drove them home.”
“What did you do then?”
“I had to go back where I’d come from; I picked up a young woman and drove her to Hull Road. I’ve already explained all of this to Mr Smith. It’s all on here.”
He handed Chalmers a detailed print out of his routes that night.”
“What did you think when your wife was sent to a mental institution?” Chalmers asked.
“I was upset,” Dave replied, “but then I realised maybe it was for the best; Mae Lin had a temper on her and it was better than jail.”
“When she died in there were you angry?”
“Of course, I was very upset. She was my wife and my baby had died too; my life was a mess for months afterwards.”
“Who did you blame for that?”
“I blamed the hospital. They were supposed to be keeping an eye on her; it shouldn’t have happened.”
“So you didn’t blame Martin Willow, the Psychology Professor?”
“Of course not. I’ve told you, I hardly knew about him.”
“Can I have a word outside Whitton?” Chalmers said.
“Of course sir,” she replied.
“I’m afraid this is a dead end,” Chalmers said in the corridor, “this guy has a watertight alibi and does he strike you as a brutal murderer?”
“You’re right sir,” Whitton admitted.
“Unless he’s a raving psychopath without a conscience, he’s not our guy. He doesn’t seem the least bit nervous about being here. Even the worst serial killers in history have cracked sooner or later. I’m afraid this is now definitely case closed, understood?”
“Understood sir,” Whitton sighed, “What do you want me to tell him?”
“Tell him we’re grateful for his time and show him the door.”
SIXTY ONE
HELL HUNT
As they left the flat and ventured out into the Tallinn night, Smith was instantly grateful for the coat he had borrowed from Stepan. It was not his usual taste in coats; it was a formal camel hair coat that made him feel like a member of the Gestapo but it was warm and it made him blend in somehow. The ferries were still coming and going from the passenger port as they walked south through the old town square. It had stopped snowing but the streets were icy and quite treacherous. There were very few people on the streets and as they walked, Smith felt like he was in a spy movie. They passed the old church of St Nicholas and Smith marvelled at the medieval architecture. It was worlds apart from York Minster.
“Where are we going?” Smith said after they had walked for twenty minutes, “I thought you said it wasn’t far.”
“Not far now,” Lucas replied, “you’re in for a surprise; have you ever been to a gay club before?”
Stepan and Lucas both laughed. They carried on walking past a park. They were getting further and further away from the centre of the City and Smith was becoming apprehensive. What if this is trap? He thought, what if I’m walking straight into an ambush. His paranoia subsided when they turned left into a small side street and the neon lights of G Punkt lit up half of the street.
“Here we are,” Lucas smiled, “its Tuesday night so it will be quiet but I must warn you, there are still a few strange characters that come here every night. Stay close to us and you won’t be in any danger.”
“Danger?” Smith’s paranoia was returning.
“They won’t hurt you,” Lucas started to laugh again, “they might try and dance with you though.”
It was almost pitch black inside the G Punkt club; only a few dim green and yellow lights lit the entrance to the bar area. Smith stayed very close to Stepan and Lucas as he had been told. They emerged into another room. This one was slightly better lit up. Lucas ordered a beer for Smith and some drinks Smith did not recognise for him and Stepan. They chose a seat in the furthest part of the room away from the dance floor. It was still quite early so they had the place pretty much to themselves. Smith was nervous. What would happen in this strange place tonight? He thought. He drank his beer very quickly.
“Can I get you another drink?” he asked Lucas and Stepan, “mine’s finished.”
“No thanks,” Stepan replied, “behave yourself at the bar though.” Lucas laughed.
“Beer please,” Smith said to the barman. He was a man around Smith’s age and he was very tall; six foot eight at least. He put the beer on the counter.
“How much?” Smith asked.
The barman laughed.
“Lucas does not pay here my friend,” he said, “but I’ll be finished at midnight if you’re interested.” He winked at Smith.
Smith quickly picked up the beer and returned to the table.
“I think that barman tried to pick me up,” he said as he sat down.
“Sebastien?” Lucas, said, “I think he was teasing you, you’re not his type and it’s pretty obvious you’re not gay.”
“Is it?” Smith said.
“Of course, you can spot it a mile away.”
A short man with impressive facial hair approached the table. He eyed Smith with suspicion. Lucas nodded at him to acknowledge that Smith was ok.
“This is my good friend Alec,” Lucas said to Smith, “he is the one I was talking about; the one that knows everything. Alec, meet Jason Smith. He is a Policeman from England.”
The man they referred to as Alec looked angry. He said something in their language to Lucas and Lucas replied with some reassuring words.
“I apologize Mr Smith,” Alec said, “I’m afraid I haven’t got much love for the Police.”
“I don’t blame you,” Smith agreed, “Most of them are complete arseholes.”
Alec laughed, smiled at Lucas and sat down at their table.
“What is it you need to know Mr Smith?” he asked.
Smith told him everything; about the day on the beach and about what Whitey had told him and about the Face Book page that led him to believe that his sister was now in Tallinn.
“I have heard of these people,” Alec began, “but they are very careful. I am in the fortunate position in that I have family in very high places and as you are a Policeman I will not elaborate. Do you understand?”
“Completely,” Smith said, “but can you help me?”
“We need to get away from this place first though,” he said, “There’s a bar in the heart of the old town square in Vanalinn. It’s called Hell Hunt.”
“Hell Hunt?” Smith gasped, “Are you being serious?”
“It’s Estonian Mr Smith, it means The Gentle Wolf. It has the best local beers in Tallinn and due to its name; it has become very popular with certain members of this Brain of Wolfie.”
SIXTY TWO
DAVE
Dave Lin drove home the long way. He had been a taxi driver for a few years now and he had a mental map of the whole of York in his head. He drove slowly. He was feeling anxious. The Police had nearly worked out what had happened on Christmas Eve and it had startled him. He decided he would do something he had not done since Vera Mae had died, he would go and get drunk. He parked his car outside his flat and stopped the engine. He reached under the passenger seat and groped around. He soon found what he was looking for. He smiled as he took out the hammer and placed it inside his coat. Those stupid Police, he thought, they had been inches away from a murder weapon on numerous occasions and they were none the wiser. He unplugged the GPS device from the dashboard and put it in the cubby hole out of sight. He got out of the car, locked the door and walked up the steps to his flat. Inside, he looked at the photograph of Mae Lin on the mantelpiece over the fire. She was so beautiful, he thought. He put the hammer in the sideboard next to the television and locked the door. He looked at the photograph again. “It’s all over,” he said to Mae Lin, “I’ve got away with it and its time to put it all behind me; I’m going out to get very drunk.”
The Bag of Nails pub was a five minute walk from Dave’s flat. It was raining as he walked. Inside, they had a log fire burning. Dave approached the bar. He was not a drinker so he paused as he pondered what to have to drink.
“Guinness please,” he said eventually; the Guinness looked good.
The barman poured the drink and handed it to Dave. He took the first sip tentatively; it tasted bitter but it was very smooth. The second sip tasted much better. He took the drink and sat at a table in the corner. The bar was quite full; mostly with student looking types drinking lager. He was grateful he did not recognise anyone in the bar; this was his celebration and he was going to enjoy it on his own. He ordered another Guinness; the first one had gone down well and Dave was already starting to feel slightly tipsy. He thought about that night after he drove the Willow family home, it was still very clear in his head. It was when he picked them up outside their house for the first time that he had realised who Martin Willow was. That was when he had devised the plan. After he dropped them back at home just after midnight, he had driven off and parked round the corner. He had disconnected the GPS tracker. He had the hammer in the car for protection so he had put it inside his coat and walked the hundred yards or so to the Willow’s house. They had seemed very drunk when he had dropped them off so they would be in no state to put up much resistance. Dave had looked through the window to see Martin Willow slumped at the bottom of the stairs. He had put on the balaclava just in case, opened the door and gone inside. The wife had put up a bit of a fight but he had soon silenced her with the hammer. When he was sure she was dead, he had seen the daughter hiding under a table. Martin Willow was passed out by now. He did not know why but he had decided to take off the balaclava and show the daughter his face. Attacking the daughter had been hard but when he thought about Mae Lin and little Chuck he hit the girl again and again with the hammer. He had dragged Martin Willow over to his wife and covered him with her blood. He had then washed his hands in the kitchen, looked over to where the daughter was lying and left the house. The whole thing had lasted no longer than five minutes. He had walked back to the taxi, changed his clothes and put the blood stained ones in a bag he had brought. He had then put the hammer in the same bag, plugged the GPS back in and driven back to the house he had just come from. It was perfect; the whole thing had gone without a hitch. Martin Willow would wake up and wonder what had happened. The Police would automatically think that he had killed his family and they would look no further.
As Dave sat down with his third drink, he suddenly felt a black anxiety sweeping over him. The daughter was still alive; they were keeping her alive on a machine. What if she wakes up? Dave thought. He sipped his drink and tried to dismiss the thought. I’m here to celebrate, he thought, nothing can ruin that. The bar was slowly filling up so Dave de
cided to carry on celebrating at home. He finished his drink and stood up; he was feeling very drunk now. He stopped at a corner shop and bought four more cans of Guinness. That would be enough, he thought. The rain was falling heavily as he staggered the last few yards to his flat. As he turned the corner his heart sank. There was a Police car parked outside the building where his flat was. He breathed deeply and tried to remain calm. A Policeman in uniform was standing by the car.
“Hello,” Dave said to the Policeman, “what’s wrong?”
“Domestic disturbance,” the man said, “all sorted out now. Do you live here?”
“Flat 4,” Dave replied, “I bet it was the people in Flat 1, they’re always fighting.”
Dave opened the door to his flat, closed it behind him and locked it. He opened the cupboard and took out the hammer. I need to get rid of this, he thought. He took the hammer and put it in the bin in the kitchen. Tomorrow when the bins get collected, I’ll be rid of this forever, he thought. He suddenly felt sick; it had been a long time since he had had a drink. He ran to the bathroom and emptied the contents of his stomach into the sink.
SIXTY THREE
THE GENTLE WOLF
They drove in Alec’s car to the Gentle Wolf Bar. Smith was grateful, it must have been minus ten outside and the wind had started to blow from the North. The car was a Mercedes, a very expensive one from what Smith could gather. It had leather seats and the dashboard was full of buttons and gadgets. Smith did not want to know how Alec managed to afford such a luxury car. They drove past Tatari through Sibulakula and headed for the old town square again. Alec parked the car and they walked through the square. There were a surprising amount of people around considering the temperature outside. They must be used to the cold, Smith thought. They walked through a dimly lit tunnel to the other side of the square. Estonian flags that hung from many of the shop fronts, blew in the wind. They reached the entrance to the Hell Hunt Bar. The building was painted green and huge wooden doors welcomed the people in. Smith followed Alec to the huge bar inside. The place was almost deserted. An old man sat alone at the bar reading a newspaper.
The York Trilogy: The First 3 DS Jason Smith Detective novels Page 24
