by S G Read
He played back a disc and watched until the man who had put the ad in appeared and pointed him out.
‘That is him, he always looked just like that when he came in. Same clothes and same hair style, it was uncanny.’ The shopkeeper added.
‘Thank you, Mr. Patel, we will let you have them back when our team has looked at each one.’ Clayton assured him and walked out with a cardboard box with the discs piled inside.
‘Our team,’ Rebecca scoffed, ‘Gerald is in for a shock.’
‘Still we have a film of him and although he is in disguise, he might slip up and show us something he doesn’t want us to see.’ Clayton retorted. ‘Once Gerald has a close up look at him we might just get an ID and with an ID we can make an arrest.’
‘If we can find him.’ Rebecca replied.
‘As you say, if we can find him,’ Clayton answered, ‘and if we do, I think it would be wise to go in after the armed response unit.’
Rebecca nodded. ‘A wise move.’
They returned to the office and read through the files, both on the board and in the actual files they had on their desks. It did not move either of their cases forward but it reminded them of salient facts. Facts which were worth remembering. The holiday was ancient history now, despite only ending this morning.
They walked out of the office for their first night at home as an engaged couple. The tossed a coin to decide where they spent the night and Clayton took his case when they drove to Rebecca’s flat to spend the night. Instead of Rebecca on his lap, Clayton had to settle for the cat but that all changed when they went to bed.
The following morning they arrived at the office raring to go and waited for news. Bill had left a note to let him know that they had found two bodies under the concrete in the lift housing. It was down as lift motor failure and he would get the lift going as soon as he could. Clayton had stressed the need to keep it a secret. No one else came near and no one phoned either. Clayton waited for half an hour and then they headed for Gerald’s office, Clayton was not one for waiting around for news.
‘How is it going?’ Clayton asked from the doorway of Gerald’s office.
Gerald looked up from his monitor.
‘I have square eyes,’ Gerald answered, ‘from looking at this screen.’
‘Have you been at it all night?’ Rebecca asked.
‘The CI came in just before I packed it in for the night and impressed on me the importance of finding this killer, so I stayed.’ Gerald answered.
Clayton’s first thought was that Gerald might possibly have fallen asleep while he was at it all night but he did not voice it, he slid beside Gerald one side while Rebecca did the same on the other, it was better than sitting looking at files which it seemed were going nowhere. After an hour Gerald lolled back in his chair and started snoring gently, they ignored it and carried on watching, with Rebecca taking over the controls when they wanted to rewind if they wanted to see something again.
The watching continued until Gerald woke up. He opened his eyes and looked around, remembering where he was and what he was doing. Without saying a word, he started watching the discs again. Finally they saw someone who looked like the man they were looking for walk in.
‘There he is, but he knows where the camera is, do you see how he makes sure we cannot see his face.’ Rebecca exclaimed.
‘I can help there.’ Gerald cried.
He stopped the disc, sorted through the other discs and inserted another one.
‘The man’s son put in a second camera, to give another view of the shop and your man obviously didn’t know about it.’ He explained.
He started the disc and moved it to just before the same time stamp as the one they had been watching. This time when the man walked in they had a good view of his face.
‘Can you print out the best picture of his face so that I can show it to Mr. Patel?’ Clayton asked.
‘I can Inspector Moore and afterwards I will go home to my bed, ring me at home if it isn’t your man.’ Gerald answered.
‘Will you answer it?’ Rebecca asked.
‘Not bloody likely.’ Gerald admitted.
‘I didn’t think so.’ Rebecca replied.
When he had printed off a selection of photographs from the disc Gerald went home, leaving the office just as it was, a mess! He did not care who saw it like it was, he was going home for a long sleep. Rebecca and Clayton returned to the Patel’s shop to show him the photos.
‘Yes that is him.’ Mr. Patel declared when he looked at the photographs.
‘Good! Thank you for your time Mr. Patel, we will bother you no longer.’ Clayton replied.
They returned to the office.
‘We need to send out an all-points bulletin but quietly with a do not approach if spotted order. We just need to know where he is and then set up surveillance to see what he gets up to,’ Clayton explained, ‘I don’t want some plod to put his size nines in and ending up dead and what would be worse, our man on the run.’
‘You’re all heart.’ Rebecca replied.
‘Now we have to do what I do worst, wait!’ Clayton declared.
‘More theories and hypotheses while we wait then,’ Rebecca complained, ‘still it might shed some light on one of the cases.’
‘We can always hope so.’ Clayton sighed.
They spent that night at Clayton’s house and entertained the neighbour, so that Clayton could tell her about the forthcoming marriage. Clayton cooked as usual but this time with Rebecca’s help, after the meal they enjoyed the wine the neighbour had brought with her.
‘I wish you every happiness,’ Mrs. Brent announced, ‘and may all your troubles be little ones.’
‘Lots of little ones,’ Rebecca added, ‘I want to raise a football team.’
‘A football team eh?’ Clayton said with his eyes wide open.
‘Yes a football team!’ Rebecca declared and emptied her glass.
‘What about the substitutes?’ Clayton asked.
The following morning they were in the office again, looking at files, either on the board, or in the files on the desks. The last file Rebecca picked up was Leslie Felltham and it was the last one she put down. They went to a restaurant at lunch time as there had been no sign of their man and the other case was no further forward.
After lunch Clayton went to see Lady Carstairs in hopes of her assistance. Rebecca dropped him of outside and drove away again and Clayton sought an audience but this time he had not phoned ahead.
‘Inspector Moore to see Lady Carstairs, if she is available.’ He announced into the machine when a voice asked who it was.
There was a delay.
‘Come to the front door, Lady Carstairs will see you.’ The butlers announced.
Clayton recognised his voice. The gates opened and he walked up the drive. He was met at the front door by the butler, prompting Clayton to think that he was the only one there apart from Lady Carstairs. He was shown into the same parlour to await her arrival which was a dignified tem minutes later.
‘So how can I help you this time, inspector.’ She asked as she swept into the room.
‘I am here to ask another favour, one that you will probably turn down.’ Clayton answered honestly.
‘Well I am intrigued, spit it out man.’ Lady Carstairs ordered.
‘We are trying to track down a serial killer, this is a man who kills to order for money.’ Clayton answered.
‘A hit man eh?’ Lady Carstairs asked, although it was a rhetorical question.
‘One who has just had the hand in the death of an MP.’ Clayton continued.
‘Well done him, so he isn’t all bad then?’ Another rhetorical question from Lady Carstairs.
‘This was shortly after he had killed the MP’s mistress for him.’ Clayton went on to explain.
‘Probably paid for by the population as well,’ Lady Carstairs complained, ‘where do I come into all this?’
‘I want you to try to hire him to kill someone for you.’ C
layton answered honestly.
Lady Carstairs walked to the fireplace and rang the bell to summon the butler, Clayton immediately thought the interview was at an end. When the butler arrived, Lady Carstairs was sitting again.
‘Are you up for a bit of cloak and dagger stuff, Beecham?’ She asked.
The butler’s face visibly brightened.
‘I am of course your Ladyship.’ He answered.
‘Well as I have no husband, I will be paying someone to have you killed, is that alright by you?’ Lady Carstairs asked.
‘I would have it no other way, your Ladyship, I take it I will be your consort and threatening to go public?’ Beecham asked.
‘Just that Beecham, just that!’ Lady Carstairs answered.
‘My pleasure, your Ladyship,’ Beecham replied, ‘will you take tea now?’
‘Tea in the other lounge will be fine Beecham and you can join us, as you are involved.’ Lady Carstairs answered.
A few minutes later, in which time Lady Carstairs caught up on the happenings at the scout hut, Beecham walked in pushing a trolley with tea and cake on it. He poured tea for everyone, including himself and then sat down in the second armchair. Clayton saw him make himself comfortable and suspected that this was not the first time he had sat down in that very chair.
‘It will be like old times my lady.’ He declared when he was settled.
‘It will, Beecham.’ Lady Carstairs answered without elaborating about the ‘old times’.
‘The old times?’ Clayton repeated but said no more.
‘I could explain inspector but then I would have to kill you.’ Lady Carstairs answered without turning a hair.
‘Then it would be prudent not to ask.’ Clayton replied.
‘Quite so, now tell me more about this favour, I am intrigued.’
‘Well as I said earlier, I need someone to approach this person and invite them to kill someone for his usual fee. He does not leave much in the way of clues, so catching him red handed seems to be a choice,’ Clayton explained, ‘or he just might walk away from this and make a mess of my career.’
‘Throwing me to the wolves and possibly Beecham, in the process,’ Lady Carstairs retorted, ‘you make it sound so inviting.’
‘I will understand if you don’t want to do it, Lady Carstairs…’
‘Do call me Sylvia, Inspector Moore.’ Lady Carstairs put in before he could finish.
‘… then you should call me Clayton, Sylvia.’
‘Clayton Moore, now that rings a bell to us older ones, doesn’t it Beecham?’
‘It does my lady but I imagine no one in Pimlico has made the connection.’ Beecham answered.
‘With all the reruns of the black and white films on satellite channels, I was only there a week before I was being called Kemo Sabe.’ Clayton explained.
‘Well Kemo Sabe, give me his number and I will set things in motion but I insist on no police involvement, he would spot them before we got anywhere.’ Sylvia ordered.
‘But I can’t authorize that, I would be hung drawn and quartered.’ Clayton retorted.
‘I thought you’d say that, so consider that I said no and I will keep you apprised on the upshot of my negotiations,’ Sylvia replied, ‘I will have back up of my own but don’t ask about it.’
‘When My boss hears about this he will ask for my resignation.’ Clayton retorted.
‘He won’t hear about it until the fat lady is singing,’ Beecham declared, ‘figuratively speaking as I am sure your killer is not a fat lady.’
‘Fat lady?’ Sylvia repeated.
‘A figure of speech milady.’ Beecham explained.
Clayton’s arguments fell on deaf ears and he finally left leaving them to plot their own downfall and possibly get themselves killed. He felt there was more to the pair than a first glance showed but this was a hired killer, who like to be like a wraith in the night and he obviously did not stop from killing women. He needed to arrange for a discreet watch to be kept on Lady Carstairs and Beecham without the chief inspector finding out about it. When Beecham dropped him off in town, he asked to be dropped at the flats Leslie Felltham was found behind and walked to the scout hut from there, after Beecham had driven away. A lookout spotted Clayton as he approached but merely stood up and waved, not bothering to tell the others that he was coming. Clayton knocked on the scout hut door and waited until he was invited in, taking in the improvements which had transformed it into the building it was now.
‘Hello Inspector Moore,’ Rufus greeted when he saw him, ‘to what do we owe this pleasure?’
‘I need someone watched and watched very carefully, I get the feeling that there is more to her than meets the eye.’ Clayton answered.
‘We can watch someone and they never know they are being watched.’ Rufus replied. ‘Congrats on the forthcoming wedding inspector.’
‘Thank you Rufus, I see you keep your finger on the pulse.’ Clayton answered.
‘Still no news on the Leslie Felltham killing though?’ Rufus asked.
‘No, not yet.’
‘So who are we watching?’ Rufus asked.
‘Lady Carstairs.’
‘The person who owns this land?’
‘The very same Rufus.’
‘This won’t upset her will it?’ Rufus asked.
‘It might save her life.’ Clayton answered.
‘Then we will watch her, we will know when she goes for a ‘you know what’.’ Rufus replied directly.
‘Can you get them to take notes so that I can read them more than once?’ Clayton asked.
‘But you have a photographic memory!’ Rufus argued.
‘Sometimes reading something twice or three times can put a different slant on your thinking, and what was hidden before can become plain to see.’ Clayton explained.
‘But you know what it says already.’ Rufus argued.
‘True, but you set your thinking in one direction and sometimes an idea can occur which puts a different slant on the case. It is a bit like someone thinking that the glass is half empty and someone think it is half full. You attack a problem head on when sometimes the answer is to attack it in another direction.’
‘So they watch and note down what goes on, even if they don’t think it is of interest?’ Rufus concluded.
‘That is about the size of it and this time, I will put some money into the community fund.’ Clayton agreed.
‘Money is always welcome as our numbers are always growing, now that we have a proper base to work out of. We have four gardens on the go at the moment, thanks to Mrs. Finnegan, she has been a brick. You see we have a new boiler ready for the winter, she paid for that and everything else that has gone on here, all we did was to supply the boy or girl power.’ Rufus explained.
‘A good liaison then?’
‘I should say,’ Rufus answered, ‘we chose the right garden to vandalise.’
‘It also helps having someone who has an eye for gardens.’ Clayton added.
‘We also having willing workers to turn James’ designs into the real thing, he’s not in to actual work anymore but I can’t blame him, it is hard work sometimes!’
‘I take it that you are not above getting your hands dirty then?’ Clayton asked.
‘There are some things only I can do, although we do have another boy who is nearly as big as me now, which is good as we have to lift some heavy things between us, when I can’t do it on my own.’ Rufus answered.
‘You have my phone number, Rufus, I can lift things for you.’
‘Thank you for the offer inspector but I shall only do that when I have to, we like to be able to do what we are asked to do. I am learning to drive a mini digger so that we don’t have to lift such heavy things without mechanical help.’
‘I take it that Mrs. Finnegan is paying for that?’ Clayton surmised.
‘Yes, she saw us lifting a big tree trunk at one of her friends place and decided to do something about it. I don’t mind, it’s fun learning and when
I have passed I can drive one. Then I can be insured for it but it is cheaper to hire a digger when we need it, than to buy one outright.’
‘It sounds like things are going well, keep me posted about Lady Carstairs’ movements.’
‘I will and I’ll drive you home if you want?’
‘I was hoping you’d offer.’ Clayton answered and accepted the ride home.
Now they had to wait for the police surveillance to pay off with a sighting of their quarry, although they had no plans to arrest him, Clayton also could catch up on Sylvia’s movements. It was a long wait until the hitman was finally spotted and for once the boys in blue did not jump in both feet first but merely let Clayton know where he was and what he was doing. Clayton mobilized a stakeout for the flats he had become the caretaker of and now they waited again. Sylvia seemed to be doing very little but it was early days yet.
Clayton popped into see Rufus and the children from time to time to catch up on their news, such as it was and wondered just what Sylvia was up to. He did not go to see her, just in case she had already been in contact with the hired killer. Instead they started to plan the wedding, with the date earmarked for when he had solved all the cases he was working on at the moment. That made it harder to plan but Rebecca planned it and the venue with several dates marked in on her diary. It was arranged that if the notice was long enough, the venue would be made available.
With that taken off his hands, Clayton balanced the surveillance of the suspect and the surveillance of Sylvia while he looked at the open cases to see if anything sparked a new interest. Nothing did, he knew who killed the girl, the MP died of a heart attack brought on by high living and he was no closer to finding even a suspect in the Leslie Felltham case. The other bodies Bill found were in the mortuary on ice. They knew who killed them and who put them there but for now they were doing nothing about them, to make sure the suspect did not find out that they had found them.
One day the suspect suddenly went missing and Clayton feared the worst, he checked with Rufus. They had seen comings and goings at the house and Clayton was worried, if Beecham was killed it would have been on his head and he couldn’t live with that.
