Under normal circumstances it would have been unacceptable for a constable to be so rude to a senior officer, but being threatened by a knife-wielding maniac was hardly an everyday occurrence. They drove the rest of the way back to Woolsmarsh in silence.
As Ian was about to get out of the car, Polly put her hand on his arm to stop him.
‘Listen, I spoke out of turn back there –’
‘It’s perfectly understandable. You were in shock. As long as he didn’t hurt you, that’s all that matters. I’m not going to ask you again if you’re OK, but I am going to recommend you speak to someone about what happened today.’
‘I don’t need to speak to anyone, I’m OK.’
‘Yes, I daresay you are, but that’s not my call to decide.’
‘Well, thanks for not reprimanding me for speaking to you like that. It was uncalled for and I am sorry, really I am.’
Ian was the one who should have been apologising for almost getting her killed. Instead he said cravenly, ‘Like you said, it’s all part of the bloody job, isn’t it? Now, you need to get that scratch seen to, and then you’re taking the rest of the day off.’
It was slow going, questioning Mark about the murders. When he wasn’t muttering to himself, his answers made no sense. There was no way he was going to stand trial as though he was sane.
‘What are you talking about, Mark?’ Ian pressed him, trying to understand his excited chatter. ‘I’m sure it’s very important, but I can’t hear what you’re saying.’
Mark stared Ian in the eye and spoke slowly and clearly.
‘The unenlightened do not hear.’
‘It’s a waste of time trying to talk to him,’ Rob said when they took a break. ‘He’s barking. We might as well leave it for the psychiatrists to try and fathom.’
Fascinated by Mark, Ian was keen to carry on. It was difficult enough to accept that he had killed his own mother in a fit of insane rage, but setting up his father to take the punishment for it was an act of calculated evil hard to credit.
‘He seems to be on some kind of religious trip, sir, although he denies being a Catholic like his mother.’
Only when asked about his relationship with his parents did Mark make any attempt to respond to questions directly. Even then his answers didn’t make much sense.
‘Mark, if you hated your parents so much, why didn’t you move out? You’re eighteen. You didn’t have to stay with them.’
Mark looked at Ian in surprise.
‘I don’t hate anyone,’ he said mildly. ‘Hatred is evil. Hatred leads to damnation.’
‘You killed your mother and tried to get your father locked up for it. So I’m asking you again, why were you so full of hatred for those closest to you? What had they done to you?’
Mark shook his head. He looked serene.
‘None of this has anything to do with hatred,’ he repeated gently. ‘Her death was an act of sacred love –’
He broke off abruptly and pressed his thin lips together until they disappeared altogether.
‘What are you talking about? What kind of love would make you kill your own mother?’
Mark opened his mouth to speak and Ian leaned forward, keen to catch every word.
‘Eternal salvation is mine,’ Mark intoned softly.
His eyes glazed over as he murmured to himself.
‘Eternal salvation is mine.’
70
IAN FELT DRAINED BY the time he reached home that evening. Throwing his coat on the stand in the hall, he went into the living room and collapsed on the sofa, too tired even to sit up.
‘We got him,’ he announced. ‘We caught the crazy bastard.’
Bev clapped her hands in the air, like a child.
‘Tell me about it.’
‘You don’t want to know.’
‘Of course I do. Why do you always shut me out like this?’
‘It’s not just you. No one could understand unless they do the job themselves.’
‘I’ve never understood your obsession with dead bodies, that’s true enough.’
He tried to explain that it wasn’t the dead he investigated, but the living. Henry and Mark were the people who interested him, not Martha, once she was dead.
‘But you got him, you arrested your killer. I want to know all about it,’ she insisted.
‘Oh, Christ, all right. If you really want to know, we arrested a man for stabbing his mother to death and accusing his father of committing the murder, plus he killed two more women, one strangled, the other suffocated – one of them left a seven-year-old son with no parents – and this crazy bastard threatened to kill my constable during the course of the arrest. Are you happy now? Is that what you wanted to hear?’
Bev looked suitably shocked.
‘Bloody hell. Did you say he killed his own mother?’
‘Yes. Like I said, he’s crazy. We couldn’t get a word of sense out of him. Not surprising, when you consider what he did.’
‘But how can you be sure it was him then? I mean, he must be insane –’
‘What? What do you mean, how can we be sure it was him? What kind of a question is that?’
‘I only meant, if the guy’s insane, you can’t necessarily believe everything he says so it might be – well, misleading. He could be making it up, fantasising. You know what I mean.’
Ian stood up and went into the kitchen without bothering to respond. This wasn’t a press conference. He wasn’t obliged to answer inane questions in his own home. If Bev thought she could do the job, she was free to join the force. He wouldn’t stand in her way. Let her try putting up with the shit he had to deal with, day after day. Grabbing a bottle of beer, he returned to the living room and sank back on the sofa again.
‘No dinner tonight?’
‘I wasn’t sure what time to expect you, so I thought we’d get a takeaway if you were home in time.’
‘It’s never long before she starts with her digs,’ he muttered.
‘Ian, you look shattered. Why don’t I run you a bath and then I’ll phone the Chinese? What do you fancy? Sweet and sour pork?’
And just like that, he was a happily married man once more. There was only his promotion to discuss and all would be well in the Peterson household. They would move to York and live happily ever after.
To his consternation, he began to shake. He couldn’t help himself. Now it was all over, he was experiencing a physical reaction to the stress of the investigation. This had happened to him before, but only when he was alone. It never lasted long. He looked away, embarrassed, but Bev had noticed. She came and sat beside him and put her arms round him. Her sympathy only made him shake more violently.
‘What is it, love? You’re shivering. Are you sickening for something? Shall I call the doctor?’
He wanted to yell at her to stop asking questions, but his teeth were chattering.
‘I’m fine,’ he assured her, gritting his teeth so he could speak.
‘You don’t look fine.’
He remembered the demented killer chanting, ‘Fine, fine, we’re all fine, everything’s fine, fine, fine!’ and wished he had chosen a different word.
‘It’s all right,’ he insisted. ‘I’m just exhausted. And by the way, I got my promotion.’
He hadn’t intended to share the news when he was too exhausted to argue with her. The words just slipped out of his mouth. She might not like it but she had to find out sooner or later, and he was too tired to care anymore. They might as well get it over with. If she stormed out of the house he would simply stagger up to bed and go to sleep.
‘You mean you’re going to be an inspector?’
‘Yes, but the thing is, Bev –’
‘So I can tell my parents?’
Ian recalled what Rob had said, and smiled.
‘Yes, you can tell your parents, but we’re going to have to move.’
‘Move?’
She turned, phone in hand, waiting.
This was the moment t
o tell her about York. She was elated about his promotion, and concerned about his shivering. Her pride and her pity combined to put him in an unassailable position – and he bottled it. Again.
‘We may have to move,’ he hedged.
There would be hell to pay when she discovered he had sent off an application for the North Yorkshire post without consulting her first.
‘Don’t look so worried,’ he reassured her. ‘It won’t be Siberia. It probably won’t even be very far away.’
He wasn’t sure why he was lying so shamelessly, but he couldn’t stop himself.
‘I’ll just call my mum, and then I’ll phone the Chinese. Why don’t you go and have a long soak in the bath?’
He nodded, but didn’t move.
‘We’re going to York,’ he announced suddenly, surprising himself as well as her. ‘It’s York.’
Slowly she put the phone down. Her voice was oddly calm.
‘York? But you just said –’
‘York,’ he repeated. ‘We’re going to York.’
‘But York’s hundreds of miles away,’ she protested. ‘We can’t just go – what about the house?’
With a burst of energy he jumped up, pulled her towards him and kissed her, hard, on the mouth. When she tried to wriggle free he held on to her and whispered in her ear.
‘There are lots of houses in York and I’m going to buy the biggest and best house in the whole city for my lovely gorgeous sexy wife. I’m going to whisk her away from her boring job, and her interfering family, and take her to live in a palace of a house in York. Because that’s what detective inspectors do!’
He took a step away and punched the air with a triumphant cry. He had done it!
‘Are you pissed?’
‘Intoxicated by the thought of getting you away from here and having you all to myself.’ Suddenly serious, he asked, ‘we are going to make this work, aren’t we?’
‘Go and have a bath,’ she replied. ‘You stink. I want to phone my mother and tell her about your promotion!’ She grinned and patted him fondly on the cheek. ‘Detective Inspector Peterson!’
Grinning, he went upstairs, whistling.
71
NO ONE SPOKE WHILE the leader’s eyes were shut. They could see he was thinking. Patiently they waited until he sat up and looked slowly around the room. Each of the disciples trembled as his gaze rested on them in turn, penetrating their deepest desires and fears. He smiled sadly.
‘We are beleaguered by lies and ignorance,’ he said softly. ‘Our enemies seek to destroy us. Take no notice. Prison walls cannot contain our souls. The day is coming when all nations of the earth will follow the gods. It may not be in our lifetimes, but we will never give up the one true cause. Assassin carried out his mission for all of us. For our sakes he is suffering.’ He raised his voice. ‘We will not forget his sacrifice.’
‘We will not forget his sacrifice,’ they repeated in unison.
‘We will see him in paradise.’
‘We will see him in paradise.’
The leader raised his hand for silence. He looked slowly around the room once more. His loving gaze rested on each of his disciples in turn. Calmed by his tender smile they fell silent. The leader lowered his head and they waited patiently. The gods willed it. The disciples accepted their good fortune and drank from the cup of life. One by one their shoulders drooped and their eyes glazed over as divine ecstasy flowed through their souls. Whatever happened to their brother in captivity, his soul would find eternal peace.
‘Our brother’s sacrifice transcends the cup of life,’ the leader said. ‘He will be granted everlasting joy.’
‘Joy everlasting,’ a disciple called out and a chorus of voices responded, ‘Everlasting joy.’
The leader’s expression grew solemn. ‘Now Assassin has been taken from us, it is no longer safe for us to stay in this house.’
An anxious mutter of conversation fluttered around the assembled disciples. The leader resumed speaking and they fell silent.
‘Assassin has proved himself worthy of our trust.’
Even so, the leader knew there could be no guarantee of another person’s discretion. Assassin might unwittingly betray them. Their enemies were ignorant, but cunning. He stood up.
‘We must vanish from this place without trace. Now hurry. The gods will not wait long. Go upstairs and pack your belongings. Bring everything here as quickly as you can.’
With an anxious glance at the gods who were watching silently, he dismissed his followers.
Losing Assassin’s house was a disappointment. It would have given them twice as much room as their present refuge in Canterbury Road. Now they would have to start all over again and find another property large enough to house them all. But he wasn’t worried. He knew the gods would lead them to a new sanctuary, just as they had guided him down the mountain. Each of his disciples had been sent to him for a purpose. All were single children of wealthy parents. The most recent follower was nearly eighteen. Already initiated into his bed, she was ripe to become a disciple. Her father was dead. Her mother lived in a remote farmhouse big enough for all of them. From there the community would grow. Although it was a setback, losing Assassin, others would take up the calling. No one was indispensable. All were but servants of the one true cause. Leading his disciples to salvation was all that mattered.
‘Assassin will reap his reward in paradise,’ he whispered to the waiting gods.
‘Sacrifice cleanses,’ they replied in the silence.
72
IAN HAD THE DAY off on Saturday. This time Bev insisted he really did stay at home. With the case resolved, he was only too happy to comply. For the best part of a month he had dedicated every waking moment to working, or thinking about work. It had been worthwhile in the end. They had obtained justice of a sort for Martha, Jade and Candy, and had ensured a demented psychopath couldn’t kill again. Mark’s madness seemed to have struck without warning. Once he had committed matricide there was no route back to sanity, no act more terrible than the one he had already committed.
Lying in bed, Ian considered Bev’s accusation that he was obsessed with the dead. Maybe she was right, and he should have been more interested in Martha’s history before she died, rather than in her murder. Beyond the cause of death, a corpse revealed few secrets if the killer left no trace of DNA at the scene. Perhaps if he had studied Martha’s life he would have spotted a clue to her son’s insanity and been able to save the other two victims. It was depressing to think that, if he had suspected Mark earlier, Jade might still be alive, and Joey might not have lost his mother. But it was destructive blaming himself for his shortcomings. At least they had caught Mark in the end. Rob had been very complimentary about Ian’s role in uncovering the truth. If it hadn’t been for Ian’s sharpness, he said, they would most likely have continued pursuing Henry through the courts. Henry would probably have kept silent, reluctant to accuse his own son of murdering Martha. An innocent man might have been sentenced on the false evidence of an evil killer who would have remained at large, free and wealthy. It was impossible to speculate how many other lives might have been saved by Ian’s perspicacity. He stretched out in bed, musing on this gratifying aspect of the case as he waited for Bev to bring him breakfast.
Propping himself up against his pillows he gazed hungrily at the tray she was holding: fried egg, crispy toast, fat sausages, beans and a hash brown, along with a steaming mug of coffee and a glass of orange juice.
‘That smells damn good!’ he grinned.
Placing the tray carefully on the bed, she sat down and twisted round to watch him eat.
‘Go on, finish it,’ she fussed. ‘You need to look after yourself.’
‘That’s your job,’ he smiled as he tucked in.
Her brow creased with faint exasperation at the mention of her job. She hadn’t handed in her notice yet.
‘What if it doesn’t come off and I’ve already resigned?’ she asked.
‘It’s going
ahead all right. It’s really happening. Even your mother’s accepted we’re moving away.’
‘But why York?’ she asked with a grimace.
He could tell she wasn’t really angry.
He finished his breakfast and reached out to hold her hand. Fiddling with her wedding ring, he told her he had another surprise lined up.
‘Oh no, not another surprise. I haven’t recovered from this one yet.’
‘You’re going to like this one,’ he promised her. ‘This one’s a very nice surprise.’
‘Not another move then?’
‘Well, in a way I suppose it is, but it’s a temporary move. A very temporary move. I’ve booked us a holiday. It’s a belated honeymoon, because we never had one after the wedding.’
‘That’s because we put all our money into the house,’ she reminded him. That had been her decision, not his.
‘Well, now we’re having a honeymoon.’
‘We can’t afford it.’
‘That doesn’t matter.’
She stared at him, her neatly shaped eyebrows raised.
‘We ought to wait, save up –’ She fell silent as he shook his head vigorously.
He had no words to explain that life was too fragile to waste in waiting for better times that might never come. All that mattered was how they lived each day of their lives.
‘You deserve the best honeymoon money can buy,’ he said instead, and was rewarded with a smile.
With a surge of joy he knew that he loved his wife. A voice in his head warned him he couldn’t keep buying his way into her favour, but he ignored it. Together they would make their marriage work.
This ebook edition first published in 2013
First published in 2013
by No Exit Press
an imprint of Oldcastle Books
P O Box 394,
Cold Sacrifice Page 29
