by Ellis, Tim
Richards squealed with laughter. ‘Rabbit! Rabbit!’
‘I hope you two are enjoying yourselves?’
‘Very much so,’ Parish said. ‘After the day I’ve had a bit of light entertainment is good therapy.’
‘Do you want to know why I was ringing you?’
‘Go on then.’
‘Caterina Makhairas was pregnant.’
‘Kefalis kept that from us,’ Richards said.
Parish pulled a face. ‘He would say that the information was freely available in the post mortem report.’
‘If you could read Greek.’
‘Any idea who the father was?’ he asked Toadstone.
‘I can tell you that it wasn’t Major Durrell.’
‘Now that’s interesting. How many months?’
‘Three. It was probably just beginning to show.’
‘Conception was before they met, wasn’t it?’ Richards pointed out.
Parish nodded. ‘In which case, the father could be Egor Laskaris.’
Richards took a sip of her water. ‘Who probably had no idea that she was pregnant.’
‘And if he did, he wouldn’t have killed her.’
‘Unless she threatened to get rid of it.’
Parish shook his head. ‘No, killing a woman is certainly no way to persuade the mother of your child to keep the baby. So, is that all you found, Toadstone?’
‘No.’
‘This is a time for sharing.’
‘I would love to share, but I can never get a word in.’
‘See, Richards. Even Toadstone thinks you talk too much.’
‘Me? More like you. You’re far too fond of your own voice.’
‘I’m beginning to think I was better off in that freezer room.’
‘With Maddie? Yes, I bet you’d like . . .’
‘I knew it. What about Mucus Ludwig? What happened to him today?’
‘He was called away to another part of the island, which I suspect you had something to do with.’
‘I don’t interfere in other people’s love lives . . .’
‘Oh! So you and Maddie have a love life . . .’
‘That not what I meant and you . . .’
Toadstone cleared his throat. ‘See, I can’t get a word in.’
‘Right Richards, shut up and let Toadstone talk.’
‘Go on, Paul,’ Richards said. ‘Take no notice of him.’
‘There were other fingerprints found in the flat.’
‘Do we know who they belong to?’ Parish asked.
‘No. They were never checked. You’ve led me to believe that Inspector Kefalis had already decided the Major was guilty.’
‘That’s correct. Good work, Toadstone. What about the message?
The corner of his mouth creased upwards. ‘You thought you had me with that one, didn’t you?’
‘You’re not suggesting I tried to hoodwink you in anyway, are you?’
‘What? What?’ Richards pleaded.
‘It’s from “Through a Glass Darkly” by Ingmar Bergman. In the film, four family members take a holiday on a remote island and act as mirrors for each other. Karin – who is a schizophrenic – finds a crack in the wall that leads to a hidden derelict room where she knows God is waiting for her.’
‘You were trying to catch him out, weren’t you?’
‘It was a valid question.’
‘I bet you knew what it meant all along.’
‘Do you think I’d keep a vital piece of information from my team?’
‘Yes, I do. So, what does it mean in the context of this investigation?’
‘I have no idea.’ He glanced at Toadstone. ‘You’d better go and get yourself ready, hadn’t you?’
He looked at his watch. ‘Oh my!’
‘And don’t forget to phone the Air Commodore,’ Parish called after him.
‘I can’t believe he asked Maddie to go out with him.’
‘Are you jealous?’
‘No. It’s just . . .’
‘. . . Men are a lot more attractive if they belong to another woman?’
‘You think you’re so smart . . .’
***
‘Did you forget which room I was in, numpty?’
He leant down and kissed her on the cheek. ‘I’ve been rather busy.’
‘And you think I’ve been lying here all day long doing nothing?’
‘If you haven’t, heads will roll.’
‘I think you’re forgetting who the Detective Inspector is in this room.’
He made a show of looking around. ‘I don’t see any DI. What I see is a DS and a very sick person who keeps pretending she’s well enough to interfere in ongoing police investigations. I should arrest you for impersonating a police officer.’
‘I am a . . .’
‘. . . Sick woman who needs to rest and keep her nose out of other people’s investigations. How did you get a phone?’
‘You have no evidence for such an assumption.’
‘Then how did DI Dougall get involved?’
‘Either charge me or let me go.’
‘I’m leaning towards a police caution.’
‘You could have been killed.’
He squeezed her arm. ‘I’m touched by your concern.’
‘Don’t talk rubbish. I was thinking of the paperwork, breaking in a new partner and a lot of other complications your death would have caused me. “Concern!” You must be sniffing too much of that wood polish you use on your animals.’
‘Probably. Anyway, it’s all over now.’
‘Is it?’
‘I was speaking to DI Dougall earlier.’
‘Oh yes?’
‘He says that you and him . . .’
‘You’ve got your hand in my knicker drawer again, Sticky Fingers.’
He grinned. ‘I’m glad. It’s good to have someone.’
‘You sound like a busybody counsellor. What about the children?’
‘Ah well! I’m glad you asked me about them. DI Dougall has arrested and locked up those four coppers at Shrub End, so they can’t get to Koll again. I’ve had permission from the Chief Constable to work with CEOP and conduct initial enquires until such time as they parachute people in to take charge at Shrub End.’
‘It seems like you and Koll are getting on really well together.’
‘Oh yes . . . but I’ve not forgotten who my real partner is.’
‘And who would that be, numpty?’
He stood up to go. ‘I think you know very well who that is.’ He shuffled to the door. ‘The Chief has given me a very nice looking new detective . . .’
‘You know you’re going to suffer terribly when I get out of here, don’t you?’
‘I know, but you’d better hurry up though – I’m beginning to like being in charge.’
‘In charge! No one in their right mind would put you in charge of anything more demanding than a puddle of dirty water,’ she called after him.
***
“Cally Flinders – the head of WikiUK – and the Right Honourable Jack Rankin Member of Parliament for Tintagel South in Cornwall have been found dead in his London apartment.
At the moment, it is all a bit confusing, but the police suspect that it was a session of rough sex that went tragically wrong.
It appears that Cally Flinders suffered sexual asphyxia and Jack Rankin – who leaves behind a wife and three children – took a drug overdose . . .”
‘Do you believe that?’ Richards shouted through the net curtain. ‘They got to her. They must think we’re all idiots. They killed her and made it look like a . . . whatever they’re saying it looks like. What do you think?’
He was sitting on the balcony listening to “Agadoo” by Black Lace drift up from a party two hotels away. The sea breeze was cool on his face and he’d had far too many lagers.
‘I don’t care.’
‘Five minutes to go,’ she called. ‘You want to get in here?’
The hotel boasted free
WiFi, and she had her laptop open on the coffee table waiting for WikiUK to publish the Epsilon files at ten o’clock.’
‘Here it comes. Oh God! Aren’t you excited? I’m excited. After all this time . . . Nooooooo! What’s happened? Oh no. The internet has gone off.’
He stuck his head through the gap in the curtain. ‘Try another site.’
‘What site?’
‘Any site?’
‘I can get the Crime Channel site.’
‘Trust you. Now go back to the WikiUK site.’
‘Unavailable.’
‘They’ve shut it down.’
‘Who has?’
‘They.’
‘They who?’
‘If we knew that, we’d probably be dead as well.’
‘And I really thought that this time we’d find out.’
‘They’re not going to let us find out, which is probably a good thing. If we ever do find out, they’ll have no option but to kill us.’
‘Maybe we could find out without them finding out.’
‘Leave it alone now, Mary.’
‘You never call me Mary unless you’re serious, and you’re never serious. I don’t like it when you’re serious.’
He swallowed the last of his lager, walked through into the room and helped her to the connecting door. ‘Goodnight, Mary Richards.’
‘But . . .’
***
Saturday, April 14
He was a bit tired this morning. He’d had far too much to drink. His legs weren’t working in the same way as they had been yesterday. They felt rubbery, jerky, not as fluid and lithe as usual. Maybe it was something to do with the freezer room. Maybe ice crystals had finagled themselves into his veins and arteries. Maybe the crystals had bonded together to form stalactites and stalagmites. Now, he was probably living on borrowed time – a ticking bomb waiting for the right moment. The more exercise he did, the more chance there was that he would explode. Maybe he should warn . . .
‘You surprised Niko again, Mr Parish.’
‘You didn’t expect me to turn up, did you?’
‘No. I have lost another ten Euro note to myself. It is a good job I am lucky in love as you English say.’
He didn’t recall ever having said that, but maybe he had. ‘I had a bit of a traumatic experience yesterday, Niko. So, I’d like to take things a little easier this morning if that’s all right with you?’
‘Of course it is all right with me. Sadly though, it is not all right with Niko. He would be remiss in his duties if he let you take things easy.’ He pointed at Parish’s head bobbing up and down on the jogging machine. ‘In there “easy” is very nice, but in there . . .’ He pointed at Parish’s chest. ‘ . . . “easy” is a killer, and I know you know about killers, Mr Parish. In our own way, we both hunt down killers. Do you get my drift – as you English say?’
‘Yes,’ he panted, although he didn’t recall ever having said that.
‘So, when you think of the word “easy” you must understand it as “harder”, “further” and “faster”. More not less is a motto to live by, Mr Parish. So today, we will do more. We will not be taking things easier, we will be taking things harder. We will be going further, faster and reaching for the stars. Can you see those stars, Mr Parish? Do you feel your hands reaching upwards? Do you feel as though you can achieve absolutely anything you set your mind to . . . ?’
‘I feel good, Niko.’
‘Excellent. Maybe I will believe you when you have done another two kilometres on the jogging machine, seventy-five sit-ups with the medicine ball, twenty kilometres on the bicycle, twenty repetitions on each multigym exercise, ten kilometres on the rowing machine and twenty-one lengths in the swimming pool.’
‘How many sit-ups did you say?’
‘Don’t worry, Mr Parish. Niko is not going anywhere. “Easy” has a habit of creeping in when you are not looking.’
He staggered back to the room like a decrepit old man.
Richards was squatting in his room again, sitting sideways in the easy chair wearing a pair of shorts and a skimpy top, with Sky News on.
‘You’re going to kill yourself if you keep it up. I’ll be an orphan again. You’d never catch me doing anything like that.’
‘You have to train for the London Marathon.’
‘You’re confusing me with someone who might be thinking of running the London Marathon.’
‘You’ll be on that start line saying, “I’m going to beat you, Inspector Parish. You can watch my fat arse disappearing into the distance.”’
‘As if.’
‘Have you seen Toadstone this morning?’
‘No. Do you think I’ve been staking out his room?’
‘Yes.’
‘Well I haven’t. What Paul does is up to Paul.’
‘I see. Right, get out – I need to get ready.’
***
Parish and Maddie were surprised to find Inspector Kefalis in the Air Commodore’s office when they were ushered in.
‘Sit,’ the Air Commodore said. ‘Inspector Kefalis has come here to thank you officially and also to explain where they are with the investigation.’
The three of them turned to stare at Kefalis.
‘Yes. First, I should apologise to you Inspector Parish and you Sergeant Madison. I was not very hospitable when you came to my office. And . . . I had decided in my own mind that Major Durrell was guilty. I did not look any further than my own nose – as you English say.’
He was sure he had never said that.
‘We caught Mr Wyberg trying to board a flight to Hong Kong late last night, but as you very well know he is not Jackson Wyberg. We sent his fingerprints and picture to New Scotland Yard in London. This morning we have found out that he is wanted in connection with the rape and murder of three women in Manchester.’
Parish nodded. ‘I had the feeling that it wasn’t his first time.’
‘You will never guess what his name is?’
‘Durrell?’
Kefalis smiled. ‘You have played this game before, Inspector.’
‘A number of times.’
‘His name is Anthony Durrell. He is the older brother of Major Thomas Durrell. I can’t prove it, but I think Caterina Makhairas found out that they were brothers, and that they had both raped and possibly killed the other women. We found the DNA of both brothers on the victims. Of course, Caterina had to be stopped. Major Durrel still says he wasn’t involved in her murder, but even if he didn’t kill her himself he was complicit in her death. The Air Commodore agrees – we will let a jury decide on his guilt.’
‘Thank you for being so honest with us, Inspector,’ Parish said. ‘And you’re happy with that situation, Air Commodore?’
‘Yes. There is clear evidence that even if he didn’t kill the other three women, he had sex with them. I also wouldn’t be surprised to discover that he was back in Manchester on leave when those women were murdered. So, I thank you for your sterling efforts, Inspector – and, of course, you Sergeant Madison. I’m sure that Inspector Kefalis will agree that without your intervention, we might never have known the truth.’
Kefalis nodded. ‘For sure, as you English say.’
Had he ever said that? He didn’t think so.
‘So, you and Constable Richards are booked on a flight back to England tomorrow morning.’
‘What about Toadstone.’
‘Ah yes! I’ve decided to keep him until Monday, so that we have the chance to discuss my archaeological research paper and possibly visit the Ais Yiorkis dig.’
‘Don’t forget to send him back, Sir. We need him at Hoddesdon, but don’t tell him I said that.’
***
Sunday, April 15
‘What did she want, as if I didn’t know?’ Richards said.
‘To say goodbye.’
‘To exchange saliva, more like.’
‘It was a kiss – closed mouths and no tongues. It meant nothing.’
‘Women alwa
ys want men they can’t have.’
‘You would know.’
‘That’s different.’
‘How is that different? He’s married with a child.’
‘We’re not talking about me.’
‘I’ll tell you how it’s different, Mary Richards. He succumbed to your charms, he fell for your shenanigans, and he . . .’
‘I don’t think it’s relevant what he did.’
‘Oh, I think it’s very relevant. Unlike me, he joined the dark side. And then there’s you . . .’
‘Me? What about me?’
‘You knew exactly what you were doing.’
‘No . . . I didn’t know he was married and had a child.’
‘Not at first, but you did when you were plotting to meet him at that wedding. In fact you were . . .’
‘Let’s get back to you.’
‘In comparison to you, I think they’re going to make me a saint.’
‘You think I’m going to go to hell, don’t you?’
‘A foregone conclusion, I’m afraid. The question is: What will you be doing down there?’
‘You have a dirty mind.’
‘It takes one to know one. And for goodness sake, leave the stewardesses alone on this trip.’
‘Huh!’
***
Following a psychiatric assessment, it was discovered that Dr Martin Wulff suffered from Dissociative Identity Disorder, which was previously known as Multiple Personality Disorder. To date, the psychiatrists have found seven other personalities who have taken up residence inside the mind of Martin Wulff. One of those documented personalities is Viktor Kreuger – an American serial killer who murdered ten people by carrying out barbaric medical procedures on his victims between 1977 and 1981 in Albany, Livingston Parish, Louisiana. He was sentenced to death and electrocuted in Gruesome Gertie in the Red Hat Cell Block at the Louisiana State Penitentiary on May 3, 1983.
