He kept his own voice low. “I asked him what the name Nemesis meant to him.”
She nodded. “I guessed it was that. If you’d told me what you wanted in the first place, we could have avoided all this. He was picked up one night in a club, he has no idea who by, and tortured for nearly three days. When he called me from the hospital he was so damaged, I couldn’t recognise him.”
“He’d been beaten?” Paolo asked.
She shook her head. “No, I don’t mean I didn’t recognise him physically. It was the mental change. Before the attack, he was outgoing and fun to be with. Afterwards, well, you’ve seen what he is now and this is a massive improvement on how he was when he first came home. He still has nightmares and screams out the name Nemesis sometimes, but not as often.”
“You say he doesn’t know who attacked him, but he must have seen how many people there were. Your husband is not a small man. It would take more than one to overpower him.”
She scowled. “You’d imagine so, wouldn’t you? I think someone slipped him something in his drink. He’d gone with a group of friends from work, back when he had a job,” she added, the bitterness in her voice almost tangible. “It was a stag do. They’d all had too much to drink. Colin remembers being in the club, then nothing until he woke up in some weirdo’s torture chamber. I don’t know what exactly happened to him while he was away, but whatever it was, it’s destroyed him. He was dumped in Bradchester Park and now refuses to go anywhere near the place. It used to be where we went with Ben, every Sunday, but not anymore.”
Paolo hesitated. The family seemed to have suffered enough, but he had to ask.
“Mrs Jameson, has your husband ever been accused of rape?”
“Are you mad? No, never. Colin is the gentlest man. Even now, even after all he’s been through, he’d never hurt another person. What made you ask such a stupid question?”
“We think there may be a connection between men accused of rape and these attacks. Your husband wasn’t the first and there have been a few since.”
Paolo watched as her face changed.
“Oh my God, you don’t think whoever did this to Colin was after Brent?”
“Brent?”
“Brent Harrison. He works, or rather worked, with Colin. He was on that stag do and they’re about the same height and colouring. It would be easy to mix the two of them up in a dark club.”
Paolo waited until Dave has his notebook ready. “And Brent Harrison was accused of rape?”
She nodded. “Yes, but not convicted. I’m not sure what happened in court, but he was cleared of all charges.”
“From your tone of voice, you sound as if you have reservations.”
She looked at Dave before answering. “Don’t write this down. I’ve got enough on my plate without that bastard after me, but when he was accused, I was sure he was guilty. I would never allow myself to be alone in a room with him. He’s one of those men who keeps making suggestive jokes, really unpleasant ones that make you feel dirty and just a bit scared, but then accuses you of having no sense of humour when you complain. He always feels me up as he goes past and then turns it back on me if I say anything.”
By this stage tears were streaming down her face. “Are you telling me that my lovely husband’s life was ruined because some nutter thought he was Brent bloody Harrison?”
Paolo had no answer to give other than the truth. “I’m so sorry, but I think that could be the case.”
Paolo and Dave drove in silence to the next address. How cruel could life be? Someone who probably was guilty, even if cleared, of rape, gets off without any penalty. An innocent man, who just happens to have a passing resemblance, ends up mentally scarred for life. Whatever Nemesis was up to, surely ruining the lives of blameless people wasn’t part of the plan. Paolo wondered if Nemesis had ever realised the error. Probably not, he thought, remembering what Andrea had mentioned about Nemesis never being surprised to find the victims had different names to the ones given in the clubs.
“We’re here, sir,” Dave said, pulling up outside a dingy terraced house in one of Bradchester’s less salubrious areas.
Paolo was glad to have his thoughts interrupted. It was pointless to speculate on Nemesis’s thoughts and emotions. Whoever it was had to be stopped and brought to justice before any more lives were ruined.
Before Dave could knock, the door opened. In stark contrast to Mrs Jameson’s quiet dignity, the woman before them looked ready to punch someone.
“What the fuck do you want? You’re old Bill, ain’t ya? Well, you’re too fuckin’ late, so you’ve wasted your time.”
Paolo showed his warrant card, not that it was necessary in the face of her conviction they were the police.
“Mrs Scott? We need to speak to your husband.”
She laughed. “Then ‘old a fucking séance. That’s the only way you’ll get to talk to that bastard. ‘E topped ‘imself four months back an’ good fuckin’ riddance is what I say.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
The frustration Paolo felt as every line of enquiry seemed to meet a dead end was growing day by day. Mike was still tracking down the site owner’s details, but that was proving harder than he’d expected. The server provider was proving obstructive and quoting data protection. It was going to take a warrant to get the information from that source. In the meantime, Mike was working on hacking through the encryption to find out for himself who’d set up the blog.
Paolo had given Brent Harrison’s name to CC in place of Colin Jameson’s and she was looking into the rape trial. Until she or Mike came up with some new information, he was stuck in a corner.
And then there was Derrick Walden’s murder still unsolved. Had he been killed to stop him from passing on information to do with the Nemesis case, or had Derrick wanted to tell him something totally unconnected? The lipstick on the plaque mystery was also still outstanding, but Paolo really couldn’t bring himself to get overly worked up about that when so many other, more important, issues were screaming for his attention.
Thinking about Derrick reminded Paolo there were a few people at the centre he’d been meaning to follow up on. Arbnor, for one, had raised a few concerns in Paolo’s mind. He turned up in strange places and definitely looked shifty at times. Then there was the weird atmosphere between Derrick and April. What had that been all about? Shutting the file of crime reports he was supposed to be working on, he decided to go to the youth centre and find out.
He went out to the main office to find Dave and then remembered he was off getting measured for a morning suit. Paolo had a mental image of Dave’s face as his future mother-in-law marshalled him into obeying her latest orders. He could only hope for Dave and Rebecca’s sake that she backed off after the wedding. If Rebecca’s mother continued to interfere once they were married, Paolo couldn’t see a happy future for the newlyweds.
Andrea was still deep into the unencrypted pages sent over daily by Mike, so Paolo didn’t want to disturb her. CC, too, was hard at work reading through trial transcripts and trying to find links between the victims. Paolo shrugged, he had no choice but to request Detective Constable Jack Cummings’ company. Maybe going out with Paolo would finally shut off the man’s griping about nepotism and Paolo’s supposed favouritism towards Dave.
“Jack, I’m going to the youth centre. I want you to come with me to take notes and keep your eyes and ears open.”
“Yes, sir, what am I looking for exactly, sir?”
Paolo smiled at the enthusiasm. Maybe he’d misjudged Jack and the man just wanted to be useful.
“You’re not looking for anything in particular. Just keep an open mind and note down anything that strikes you as odd or out of place. You know, snippets of conversation, people where they shouldn’t be, that sort of thing.”
Jack nodded. “Shall I drive?”
Paolo shook his head. He’d heard from others how hair raising it could be as a passenger with Jack driving.
“No, we’ll go in my
car this time.”
As Paolo pulled into the youth centre car park, he swore this would be the first and last time he took Jack out with him. For the full twenty minutes of the journey the man had laughed so heartily at Paolo’s jokes he’d almost choked, agreed with every word out of Paolo’s mouth and generally done everything bar lick Paolo’s shoes. And he might even have done that, Paolo thought sourly, if he’d been able to get his head under the steering wheel. Twenty minutes spent in Jack’s company was nineteen minutes too long.
The first sight that greeted Paolo as he parked the car was Clementine Towers striding towards him. He groaned. As if his day wasn’t bad enough, he didn’t think he could bear listening to a rant from her. Maybe he could palm her off on Jack. As the evil thought entered his head, he smiled.
“Jack, the woman bearing down on us is going to try to pin me in a corner. I want you to head her off.”
“Yes, sir!”
The response came back so smartly, Paolo missed Dave’s irreverent sense of humour. He’d have come back with a witty quip about not wanting to steal Paolo’s limelight, or upset one of his fan club. He strode on towards the youth centre’s front doors, but whatever Jack had said to Clementine Towers clearly hadn’t been successful because he heard her calling out to him.
“Detective Inspector! Detective Inspector Storey!”
He couldn’t ignore her without being rude, so turned round and forced a smile to his lips.
“Miss Towers, what can I do for you today?”
She tottered towards him on heels so high she was in danger of breaking an ankle. Today’s outfit consisted of a mid-calf purple skirt topped by a bright orange V-neck jersey. Paolo wondered if he could get away with putting on sunglasses to minimise the glare.
“It’s what I can do for you, Detective Inspector. There has been more wickedness–”
“Miss Towers, I have to go inside to speak to some people. Perhaps you could tell my Detective Constable all about it?”
She shook her head, sending her grey hair flying in all directions. “No, no, no! The information I have is far too important. It needs your attention. It would be better going to someone even higher up, but–”
Paolo smiled. “I would love to give you my full attention, but not right at this moment. Perhaps you could come to the station with your information?”
“No, I’ll wait here for you. How long will you be?”
Resisting the urge to shout at her, Paolo shrugged. “I’m not sure. I have to interview a couple of people.”
“Who?” she demanded.
“Miss Towers, that is none of your business,” Paolo said, finally losing patience.
He spun on his heels and headed towards the centre, closely followed by Jack. When they were inside, Paolo turned to Jack.
“Miss Towers is the self-appointed guardian of Bradchester’s reading material. Left to her, Enid Blyton would be the only choice of books for everyone aged between eight and eighty – and even then she’d want to take out the racier bits.”
“I don’t think there are any racy bits in her stories, sir.”
Paolo smiled. “Believe me, Miss Towers could find some. Right, let’s go and have a chat to April.”
Halfway up the stairs, they met Arbnor coming down. As they exchanged greetings, Paolo recalled April saying Arbnor only oversaw the rooms downstairs. He was about to call him back to ask where he’d been, but decided to find him after he’d spoken to April. Maybe Arbnor had been to see her, which meant he was fully entitled to be up there.
The door to her office was open and April was behind her desk, head down and oblivious to the world. Tapping on the door frame to get her attention, Paolo waited for her to look up. When she did, he went in and introduced Jack.
She grinned. “What have you done with the handsome one? Hiding him away from temptation?”
Paolo laughed and decided to keep that gem to share with Dave.
“No, he’s busy doing something else today.”
Hearing what sounded like a snort, he turned to glare at Jack, who looked too guiltless to be innocent.
Bringing his attention back to April, Paolo concentrated on the reason for being there, but promised himself he’d have a stronger word with Jack later.
“April, on previous occasions you’ve mentioned Derrick Walden poking his nose into things that didn’t concern him. I know he used to come up here and irritate you by trying to find out snippets of information. He was due to come to the station on the morning his body was discovered. Any idea what that might have been about?”
She shook her head. “I wish I could help you, but it could have been anything. I’ve never known anyone as nosey as Derrick was. I caught him rummaging in Montague’s desk once, but when I called him on it, he laughed and said he just liked to know what was going on.” She shrugged. “For all I know, he could have gone through my desk as well without my knowledge.”
Paolo glanced over to make sure Jack was taking notes and then felt bad for doubting him. The man was a trained police officer, after all.
“Do you think Derrick did that to anyone else?”
April laughed. “I don’t know for sure, but I would imagine so. I don’t think he could help himself. For him, it wasn’t snooping, it was gathering ammunition to use if he needed it.”
“Blackmail?”
She put her head on one side, clearly thinking about it. “No,” she said, “I wouldn’t say that. More to use as leverage. He wanted to know people’s secrets so that he knew how their minds worked. If he knew that, he could play them to his advantage.” She laughed again. “He was always grateful to anyone who helped him, even if they only did it because he’d manipulated them into doing it. I’ve made him sound more calculating than he probably was.”
Paolo smiled. “It sounds to me like you’ve understood him. Tell me, he was very grateful to Montague for giving him the coach’s position here. Do you think he manipulated that situation.”
She shrugged. “I have no idea and the only two people who can answer that are both dead. I miss Montague, but life moves on. If there’s nothing else I can do for you, Paolo, I need to get back to work. I’ll have a new boss once the council sort out who is going to take over here and I want to make sure everything is in place for whoever it might be.”
“One last thing before I leave you in peace, did Arbnor come up to visit you?”
“No,” she said. “Should he? Is there something I should know about?”
Paolo stood up. “No, nothing really. I passed Arbnor on the stairs and remembered you telling me he didn’t have any duties up here.”
She made to rise, but Paolo waved her back down again.
“Don’t worry. I’ll go and find out what he’s up to. If it’s something you need to know about, I’ll come up and tell you.”
She smiled. “Thanks, Paolo. With everything that’s gone on here, I’m up to my eyes in work.”
Paolo signalled to Jack to get up, said goodbye to April, and went in search of the caretaker. On the way downstairs, Paolo decided not to pussyfoot around with Arbnor. He’d arranged the job for him and felt responsible for his conduct. If he was doing anything wrong, which seemed likely, given that his job requirements ended at the foot of the stairs, then Paolo wanted to put a stop to it. He found him in his tiny room, next door to the empty swimming coach’s office. The job had been advertised since Derrick’s untimely demise, but so far there hadn’t been any takers. With a suicide and a murder connected to the place, it wasn’t surprising that word had got round this wasn’t a healthy place to work.
Arbnor looked up when Paolo and Jack came in. If guilt had a definite expression, Paolo thought, then Arbnor was displaying it. Paolo went straight on the attack.
“What were you doing upstairs? And don’t give me some line about looking after the rooms, or visiting April, because I know you were doing neither of those things.”
Arbnor didn’t answer. Dropping his head, he wrung his hands as if
by doing so he could wipe away whatever secret he was hiding.
Paolo sat down and waved his hand at Jack to do the same.
“Arbnor, stop standing there looking the picture of shame. Sit down and tell me what it is you’ve been doing. I know you’re up to something.”
Keeping his eyes firmly on the floor, Arbnor shuffled over to his chair and collapsed into it.
“I’m sorry,” he said.
“You might well be sorry, Arbnor, but I need to know what it is you’re sorry about.”
“I’ve betrayed your trust in me. When you arranged for me to work here, I was so very, very grateful and now I’ve let you down.”
Resisting an urge to shake Arbnor till his teeth rattled, Paolo waited for more to come. He didn’t have to wait long.
“It is because my child is sick. My baby in Albania.”
Paolo glanced over at Jack. He looked as confused as Paolo felt.
“Sorry, Arbnor, you’re going to have to explain. You’ve lost me there.”
“I send all my money home to my wife. I keep very little for myself, but my daughter is very sick and I need to talk to my wife. How can I do this when I have no money for phone calls to Albania?”
A light bulb lit up in Paolo’s mind. “You’ve been using the youth centre’s phones to call home.”
Arbnor nodded. “Please, I beg you, don’t tell anyone. I need this job to keep a roof over the head of my wife and daughter. My wife cannot work because we have no one to look after Besjana.”
“That’s your daughter’s name? It’s pretty,” Paolo said, when Arbnor nodded. “Look, I can see your dilemma, but you can’t just use the centre’s telephone system without permission. That’s theft.”
Arbnor’s head shot up. “No! I would never steal. Never! You cannot think that of me.”
Paolo knew Arbnor would feel that way, most people seemed to. It wasn’t stealing if it was just a phone call, even though that was taking money out of a business. That was the same as saying it wasn’t stealing if you took paperclips, elastic bands, toilet rolls, reams of paper or envelopes home from work. It was amazing how people could delude themselves into thinking such things didn’t count, while at the same time condemning others for robbing banks.
Looking For A Reason (#4 - D.I. Paolo Storey Crime Series) Page 21
