Pierce took a final drag off his cigarette, tossing it out the window before he turned to Kate. “I really appreciate you doing this, Kate.”
“No sweat. I’m from New York. Hanging out with drag queens is a normal Thursday night for me. Although now I’m thinking I might be underdressed for this venue.”
Pierce shook his head. “No, you look perfect.” He paused, perhaps registering just how enthusiastic his response had been, and wondering how she was going to interpret that. He quickly took out and lit another cigarette, shifting nervously in the seat.
Kate smiled to herself. She’d gone with dark colors, a black tunic and tights, a metallic belt and dark knee high boots completing the look. She’d opted for her standard messy bun piled on top of her head, and the whole thing came together in a casual dressy sort of way. Kate was rarely charitable about her own appearance, but she had to admit she looked good.
“So, are you planning on trying to talk to everyone in here, or what?”
Pierce grimaced. “No. Peter said I should talk to a Jamie Wexford. That I’d get the best information from…” He trailed off, clearly searching for the right pronoun.
“Go with her. If Jamie prefers being addressed by a masculine pronoun, then she’ll let you know… and will be flattered by your consideration.”
“Right.” Pierce nodded thoughtfully, smiling broadly as he turned to her. “See, this is why I needed you to come along. Shall we?”
Kate popped open the passenger door. “Bring it on.”
***
“Okay. You look for Wexford… I’ll mingle.” Kate didn’t wait for a response, heading straight for the bar. Pierce watched as Kate quickly struck up a conversation with a lanky drag queen who’s look was caught somewhere between Cher and Freddie Mercury. She’ll probably find out more than I will… Pierce chuckled to himself as he saw two more queens join the conversation. His phone went off, buzzing noisily. Pierce pulled it out, and froze as he looked at the screen. He’d thought the last call he’d gotten with this ID had been a misdial, but no… He hesitated, his thumb hovering above the green “accept” button, then abruptly moving to the red “decline” button and tapping it. Pierce pocketed the phone… He’d call him back. Later.
“I believe you’re looking for me, aren’t you, handsome?”
Pierce turned toward the voice. The man in front of him was tall and slim, his well-shaped head shaved bald. His face was carefully made up, from perfectly-sculpted eyebrows to the heavily mascara-laden eyelashes above soft brown eyes to the swipe of gloss across his bottom lip. The rich silkiness of his deep wine colored kimono rippled over his arm as he offered his hand. “Jamie Wexford. I’ve been expecting you, Sergeant Pierce.”
Pierce gingerly took his hand, shaking it once before letting it go. “How did you know?”
Wexford smiles, lips pressed together tightly as he motions for Pierce to follow him. “Your posture is a dead giveaway. Plus, Peter sent a message through his lawyer. He said, ‘Jamie, let the queens know a fox is coming to the hen house’.” He paused, gesturing toward the bar. “Of course, he didn’t say anything about you bringing a vixen with you.”
Pierce looked to the bar as well, where Kate was holding court with at least six drag queens around her smiling and laughing.
“No worries, Sergeant,” Wexford chimed in. “There may be a couple of drag-o-saurus here tonight, but for the most part we adore our hetero girlfriends.” Wexford sat down in a booth, gesturing to the seat across from him. “Make yourself comfortable. Would you like a drink? Hang on… Cormac, darling?” Wexford pulled the sleeve of effeminate, tuxedo-clad young man standing near by. “Get us a bottle of Jameson and two glasses, if you could, darling?” Cormac nodded his head gently and hurried away to the bar. Wexford turned back to Pierce. “So, how can I help you?”
Pierce was quiet for a moment, unsure where to start. He hadn’t expected Wexford to have such an open manner and be quite so willing to talk. He glanced over toward the spot where Kate was still holding court, now with about a dozen listeners. She was smiling brightly, sipping a tall brightly-colored drink, and Pierce wished that he could grab her attention, motion her over. It would be so much easier if she were here to get the ball rolling with one of her typically blunt statements or daring questions. No such luck.
“Well, Mister… Sorry, Miss…?”
“I’m gay and fashionable, Sergeant, not transgender,” Wexford said with a wave of his hand, smiling at the other man’s discomfort. “Please, just call me Jamie.”
“All right… Jamie. How well did you know Father Coyle?”
“Mark? Jesus! We’ve known each other since Cambridge. We roomed together. I wouldn’t have gotten through my philosophy classes without him. Mark was so clever, he could make the most complicated things simple, manageable. He was… a good friend.” Wexford paused for a moment as Cormac returned to the table. He set the bottle of Jameson on the table, along with two glasses, then quickly moved away.
“And you remained close all these years?”
Wexford nodded his head as he reached for the bottle and began to pour a generous portion in each glass. “Yes. Mark went to Rome after his ordination, then to New York for a time. I traveled in Thailand, Indonesia… But we always stayed in touch. Through thick and thin, he’d always say.” He took a sip of his whisky, then set about lighting a cigarette.
Pierce took a sip of his whisky, relishing the warm feel as it traveled down his throat. “Did he tell you anything about what happened with Peter Hamilton?”
Wexford’s eyebrows shot up and he sputtered, a puff of smoke bellowing out as he spoke. “Well, he didn’t molest him, if that’s what you’re asking! Mark didn’t even know Peter. I was the reason they met.” Wexford took a large drink of his whisky before he continued.
“After I returned from working overseas, I put my education to use as a social worker. Peter was one of my first boys… and my first success story. I got him removed from the home, and my mum, Lord bless her, pulled some strings as a patron and got him placed in a boarding school in Kent. Once Peter was safe, I told Mark about his case, his abuser. And Mark went to the Diocese.”
“The Diocese? Peter’s abuser was a priest?”
“Yes.”
“And?”
“And… From what Mark told me, he was moved from parish to parish, the Church’s standard shell game at the time. We never heard of any other abuse cases. Peter wasn’t harmed again. Seemed to be the end of the story.”
“Seemed?”
“About a month before Mark was murdered, I stopped at Holy Innocents. I was hoping to lure Mark out of the Rectory for lunch and a look at one of the new exhibits at the Tate. When I arrived, Mark was outside in conversation with another priest, I say conversation, but really it was more a one-sided argument. Mark was withstanding the abuse with more restraint than I would have. I heard the other priest yell about ‘deviants’ and ‘degenerates’… Then he pushed Mark, hard enough to throw Mark off-balance. I was ready to intervene, but the other priest stalked away. Mark wouldn’t discuss it.”
“Did you know the other priest?”
“No. Never got a good look at his face. But his voice… His voice was rather unique, slight Northern accent. Booming, it was. I would definitely recognize it if I heard it again.”
“Thank you for your help.”
“Don’t thank me, Sergeant. Mark was my best friend, one of the truest people I’ve ever known. You just get the bastard that did this. That’s all the thank-you I need.”
16
October 2011
HMS Coroners Court, Barnett
Kate glanced around the courtroom. Afternoon sunlight was illuminating the room brightly, causing a certain amount of glare to hit her eyes in waves as the trees outside blew in the wind. She squinted against a fresh flash, and wondered if anyone would notice if she slipped her sunglasses on, at least until it was her turn.
Pierce had been on the stand, if that’s what they c
alled it, for the past twenty minutes, while the Coroner, a Lady Justice something-or-other, asked him questions about the particulars surrounding Neville’s death. It was all pretty straightforward, and Kate hoped that her own time in the hot seat would be simply more of the same. It had seemed a bit silly to have an inquest… It was obvious how Neville died, and all the events surrounding the case were public record now as the case was closed, but procedure on this side of the pond required inquests in certain cases, one of which being when a death occurred as a result of injury by a police officer. As annoying as it was to have to go over all of this AGAIN, Kate could see the utility of this. Back home, when a cop was involved in someone’s death, they usually convened a Grand Jury, and there were certainly plenty of instances of those coming back, one way or the other, and the public reacting negatively. Kate looked around the room again, noting the quiet of those sitting in the gallery area, the calm that seemed to pervade the room. Perhaps juried inquests for police-involved deaths would be a good idea in the US.
The Lady Justice cleared her throat and looked over the top of her wire-rimmed glasses. “Mr. Warwick? You have questions for this witness on behalf of…?”
Kate turned, wondering if… Yep, it was the weasel. She watched Ethan Warwick stand, glancing briefly over his shoulder before replying.
“C.I.B., madam.”
Kate strained to see who he had looked at. Grayson. The rat and the weasel… Sounds like a Disney movie… She thought to herself. The atmosphere in the room had changed rapidly, and Kate could almost feel the waves of tension emanating from Pierce now.
Lady Justice nodded. “Very well, Mr. Warwick. Please try to keep your questions pertinent. The witness is still under oath. Proceed.”
Warwick turned his gaze on Pierce, the look of distain on his face barely veiled. “Detective Sergeant Richard Pierce. How long have you been a member of the Metropolitan Police Force?”
“Nearly fourteen years.” Pierce’s voice sounded deeper, more precise.
“In those fourteen years, have you had occasion to carry a firearm in the line of duty?”
“Yes.”
“And what are your personal feelings regarding police officers carrying firearms?”
A smile twitched at the corner of Pierce’s mouth, but he fought it. “My personal feelings?”
“Do you believe there are occasions when Metropolitan Police officers should carry weapons?”
“They already do, on an as-needed basis.”
“Would you prefer to be armed all the time, Sergeant?”
Pierce hesitated briefly, before replying. “Yes, I would.”
Warwick smirked. “You enjoy using a gun, then?”
“I enjoy doing my job.”
“How many people have you killed, Sergeant Pierce?”
Kate heard a couple of people in the room quietly gasp. She glanced at the Lady Justice… Why isn’t she shutting this asshole down? Kate’s gaze went back to Pierce. A cloud had come over his face, his expression darker, his deep brown eyes almost black with intensity. His voice was calm, though, as he replied, “Four.”
“Does that include Neville Crane?”
“No.” Pierce’s eyes flickered briefly in her direction, but did not linger.
“Ah. Five, then.” Warwick picked up a handful of papers from the table in front of him, glanced at them perfunctorily before continuing. “Before joining the Met, you were in the military, were you not? Sergeant Pierce?”
“Yes.”
“You were stationed in the Balkans as a member of S.A.S.”
“Yes.”
“That’s quite young to be in Special Operations, isn’t it?”
“If you say so.”
“What was your specialization? What was your… job?”
“Marksmanship.”
“So you excelled at shooting. Shooting at targets. Were any of these targets… alive?”
“Yes.”
“Marksmanship. I suppose it would be fair to say, then, that you are an expert with a gun. A crack shot, if you will.”
“Do you have a question for me, Mr. Warwick?”
“During your time in the service, how many people did you kill?”
Pierce’s eyes flickered towards Kate again, and he shifted in the chair, the first real outward manifestation of discomfort that Kate had seen thus far. He didn’t want to answer this question, but moments later he spoke. “Thirty-two.”
There were more gasps in the rom this time, and some murmurs as well. Pierce sat as still as he could, his gaze focused on Warwick, his face a mask of calm. Warwick, however, was working the courtroom dramatics, the look of feigned shock on his face reminding Kate of theatrical masks from Thailand. “You’ve killed thirty-two people. As a part of your job, of course.”
A feminine throat cleared, and Lady Justice looked at Warwick over her glasses again. “Mr. Warwick…”
“Of course, madam. Sergeant Pierce, why did you kill Neville Crane?”
Pierce looked at Warwick for a long moment, then turned toward the jury seated to the right. It was the first time he had broken eye-contact with Warwick, and Kate heard a couple of the female jurors breathe in sharply as Pierce focused his intense gaze on them. She noted the rapt looks on their faces as he began to speak. Sometimes it really pays to be good-looking…
“Neville Crane had already tortured and murdered two young men, attempted to murder a third. He was a desperate man with nothing to lose… I believed Miss Gardener’s life to be in eminent danger and I acted accordingly. As it was, he had injected her with the paralytic drug Propofol before I shot him and I was forced to give her rescue breathing until the paramedics arrived.”
Pierce finished his statement with a gentle nod to the jury, then turned his gaze back to Warwick. Warwick glanced at the jury.
“So your defense is that you killed Neville Crane to save Miss Kathleen Gardener’s life?”
“I did my job.”
“I suppose it is easier to do when your job includes someone so… attractive?”
Uh-oh… Kate watched Pierce’s expression darken, a frown now marring his features. “What are you implying?”
“Well, it is a fact that Miss Gardener is very attractive, is she not?”
“You’ve seen her. And this jury will see her very soon. Miss Gardener and I have a professional relationship. Her appearance has no bearing on my willingness to perform my duties as a police officer, or on the outcome of this inquest.”
“Mr. Warwick.” The Lady Justice removed her glasses, her expression stony. “I believe this Court has given you more than enough latitude with these questions. Do you have any other questions pertinent to the death of Neville Crane?”
Warwick glanced at Grayson briefly, and Kate saw Grayson shakes his head, the slightest of gestures, but still loaded with frustration and anger. Warwick turned back to the Lady Justice, and answered with a quiet, “No, madam.”
“Very well. Sergeant Pierce? Thank you, you are dismissed.” Pierce nodded and stood to go.
The Lady Justice looked at the paperwork in front of her, then over the top of her glasses at the room at-large. “Miss Kathleen Gardener?”
Kate took a deep breath and stood up. Everyone in the room from the jury to the gallery, even Pierce, all turned to look at her. Spotlight on me… Hoping to calm her nerves at being focused on so acutely, Kate looked at the Lady Justice only and smiled weakly. The older woman’s grey eyes were piercing, but seemed to soften a bit as her gaze leveled on Kate. “Please come forward and be sworn, Miss Gardener.”
17
October 2011
HMS Coroners Court, Barnett
“Miss Gardener, please tell us in your own words about the death of Mister Crane.”
Kate swallowed hard, and nodded. “Okay. When do you want me to start from? When we entered the Park? Or before that, when he found me in his flat?”
The Lady Justice looked over her glasses at Kate, her eyebrows raised slightly. “Begin
at the point you think most relevant to these proceedings. We can pick up the pieces after.”
“All right. We walked to the Park. Neville had my arm, and he wasn’t hurting me but I knew better than to try and pull free or anything. We went to Saint Mark’s Gate, to the spot where the body had been.
“He told me everything… Why he did it. How he got the drugs. Everything.”
Kate paused for a moment, frowning as she swallowed hard again before continuing.
“When he took out the syringe with the Propofol in it… I was… I knew he was going to kill himself. At least, I knew he wanted to. And I was hoping I could just… Change his mind, somehow, by being cool about it… by being me. And then Rick… Detective Sergeant Pierce showed up.” She let her gaze drift around the room and found Pierce where he was standing by the door. He nodded, a barely perceptible movement, but enough that Kate saw it and felt herself relax a bit knowing that he was still in the room, that she wasn’t alone.
“Miss Gardener, if I may?” The Lady Justice pursed her lips. “Did you see Detective Sergeant Pierce’s gun?”
Kate looked away from Pierce, her gaze focusing directly on the Lady Justice. “He wasn’t holding it… It was in the holster under his coat.”
The Lady Justice made a notation on the paperwork in front of her, then nodded to Kate. “Thank you. You may continue.”
“After that everything happened really fast.” Kate shrugged, then gazed at a spot on the back wall, her eyes losing focus as she recalled what happened in the park. She spoke rapidly, as if the getting it out quickly would somehow make it easier to relive. “The skater came around the corner and crashed into Neville. He crashed into me. I felt the pressure on my chest… And I heard the shot. I actually thought I’d been shot until we fell to the ground and I could feel how heavy he was on top of me. But it was the needle that I’d felt. And then Sergeant Pierce was pulling him off of me. And, uh, the last thing I remember is him helping me to breath.”
De Profundis (Kate Gardener Mysteries Book 2) Page 11
