Mother of Demons

by Maynard Sims

  “They’re looking for her. Not as someone who has walked out of here, you understand—our guests are free to come and go as they please; they’re not legally obliged to stay here—but they want to interview Alice in connection with Dr. Tayeb’s and Nurse Williams’s deaths.”

  “What a bloody mess,” Violet said under her breath, but Frost heard her.

  “Yes,” he said. “An absolute bloody mess. I’m sorry.”

  “How did she seem, Alice, while she was here?” Harry said.

  “I interviewed her when she first arrived. She seemed like a sweet girl, placid, docile. I certainly didn’t see that she could be a threat to my staff. It’s why this business has me shocked and baffled. Believe it or not, I’m pretty good at reading people.”

  “I believe you,” Harry said. “Was there anything about her behavior, anything she said or did that struck you as unusual?”

  Frost leaned back in his chair, steepled his fingers and blew across the tops of them as he considered Harry’s question. After a moment he said, “One thing she said, and she said it more than once, ‘He won’t let me stay here. He’ll come for me’.”

  “Any idea who she was talking about?”

  “Lawrence told me that Alice had been involved with someone, a man, a bad influence, who might have instigated her meth addiction. Alice could have been talking about him.”

  “Did she give you a name?” Violet said.

  Frost shook his head. “Lawrence didn’t know his name. But it seems Alice had formed quite a close bond with him…whoever he was.”

  Harry got to his feet. “I think we’re done here, Vi,” he said.

  “I hope I’ve been of some help,” Frost said.

  Violet stood. “Yes, Dr. Frost. A great help. Perhaps you’ll let us know as soon as you hear anything from the police.”

  “Of course.”

  “And the pathologist,” Harry said.

  Frost looked doubtful. “I’m not sure I can do that. There will be an inquest. I’m sure everything will come to light then.”

  Harry nodded. He wasn’t going to pressure him—couldn’t without the backing of the department, and to get that he’d have to make Alice’s case official, and he wasn’t ready to do that.

  “Fair enough. Thank you for your time, Dr. Frost. If you remember anything else or can tell us anything that might help us find Alice, perhaps you would give me a call.” Harry handed the doctor his personal card and watched with satisfaction as the man read it and slipped it into the top pocket of his jacket.

  Jason West was leaning against the hood of the car, smoking a cigarette. As Harry and Violet emerged from the clinic, he dropped the butt, and ground it under the heel of his shoe.

  Violet turned to Harry and hugged him. “See you back at mine?”

  “Yes.” Harry kissed her cheek and walked to his own car parked alongside hers. “We’ll talk when we get back.”

  “You’ll stay for lunch?”

  Harry nodded, climbed in behind the wheel and started the engine.

  “Well?” Jason said as Violet slipped into the car beside him.

  “I’ll tell you about it as we drive.” She looked back at the clinic and gave an involuntary shudder.

  “Are you okay?” Jason said.

  “A gray goose just walked over my grave,” she said.

  Jason looked at her askance, but said nothing as he drove out through the gates of the clinic, back down to the main road.

  Chapter Six

  Strasser carried a mug of coffee into the bedroom and set it down on the nightstand, and then he leaned over the bed and kissed Alice on the cheek. “Wake up,” he said softly. “It’s late.”

  Alice Logan’s eyes fluttered open, and she ran a hand across her scalp, twining her hair between her fingers as she looked across at the digital clock on the bedside cabinet. It read 17.30. “You shouldn’t have let me sleep so long.”

  Strasser shrugged. “You needed it. Drink your coffee.’

  “Sleep isn’t what I need, nor is coffee. You know what I need.”

  “Later,” he said gently.

  “Now.” She propped herself up onto one elbow. “Now, Erik,” she insisted.

  He regarded her for a moment, and then pulled something from his pocket. “You really shouldn’t be taking this anymore.”

  She said nothing but stuck out her hand.

  He shrugged again and dropped the suppository into her outstretched palm. She threw back the covers, swung her feet to the floor and padded naked across to the bathroom. When she returned she looked more awake, but her eyes were glittery, slightly manic.

  Strasser was sitting on the bed. He would have to stop dosing her soon. The meth was starting to affect her looks. She had aged five years in the last three months. He should never have got her hooked, but it was the only way. “Shower and get dressed,” he said. “We have to go out.”

  She flopped back down on the bed and spread her legs. “Fuck me first.”

  Strasser smiled. “That’s an invitation I wouldn’t usually refuse, but we have to be somewhere soon. Take a shower…and drink your coffee. And get dressed.”

  The corners of her mouth turned downwards in a pout and she thrust her hand between her legs. “But I need you, Erik.”

  “You need coffee.” He stood up from the bed and walked from the bedroom, letting the door swing shut behind him.

  “Bastard!” she called after him, took the coffee mug from the cabinet and hurled it against the closing door. And then she began to cry.

  Thirty minutes later she was showered and dressed. She walked into the lounge and stood in the doorway, wanting him to show his approval, but her thoughts were beginning to blur and jumble as the crystal meth worked its insidious way to her brain, and she started to sway.

  He sat on the larger of the two couches in the sparsely furnished room, flicking through a magazine. He looked up at her, taking in her silky blonde hair and small breasts pushing against the lemon silk of her blouse. He stood up and went across to her, holding her by the shoulders to stop her swaying. “Beautiful,” he said. “Shall we go?”

  Harry hated driving through London, hated Chelsea even more. He reached Violet’s house and pulled in behind her dark green Honda. They had beaten him back from Bournemouth.

  Jason answered the door at the first ring and ushered him inside. Violet was in her usual position, seated behind the desk in the library. She was always in the library when he met her. He couldn’t recall ever being in any other room of the house.

  “Well,” she said, as he entered the library. “What did you make of Dr. Frost?”

  Harry sat down at the desk. “Unusually open. I liked him.”

  “Yes. He certainly didn’t try to hide anything, at least not that I could read from his aura.”

  “Do you think Alice could be responsible for the doctor and nurse?”

  Violet shook her head. “Not Alice. Strasser maybe.”

  Jason joined them at the desk. “Most likely,” he said. “Strasser heads a coven. He probably used witchcraft to get them out of the way while Alice escaped.”

  “We need to find out more about him if we ever want to get Alice back,” Violet said.

  “Do you think he has her?” Harry said.

  Violet snorted. “What do you think? ‘He’s coming for me…he won’t let me stay here.’” she quoted. “She must have been talking about Strasser.”

  “I think that’s the most likely scenario,” Jason said. “From what I read in his file, Strasser seems utterly ruthless and determined to get what he wants.”

  “I phoned Martin Impey, my researcher at the department,” Harry said. “He’s starting to compile his own file on our Mr. Strasser. He told me a few of the things he’s found out about him. I think you’re right, Jason. He’s setting something up, and whateve
r it is, Alice has a role to play. I don’t think your sister’s plan to spirit her away and hide her at the clinic will have fazed him at all, Vi. He tends to get what he wants, whatever the cost.”

  Dark clouds scudded across Violet’s eyes and she slammed her hand down on the desk. The two men looked at her, startled. It was unusual for her to show any outward sign of emotion, but Alice’s abduction had her rattled. “We’ve got to get her back, away from this monster.” Tears were welling in her eyes. “I used to change her nappy, for Christ’s sake, push her on the swing that hung from the oak tree in the garden. She’s like my own daughter.”

  Harry reached across the desk and laid his hand over hers. “We’ll get her back, Vi, I promise.”

  She looked at him bleakly. “You shouldn’t make promises you can’t keep, Harry.”

  “What if I promise as well?” Jason said.

  Violet shot him a disparaging look, and then she shook herself as she tried to get her emotions under control. “I’m sorry. I know you both mean well, but what can we do?”

  “I think it’s time we made this an official Department 18 investigation. Use all their resources,” Harry said.

  “But I thought you said your boss would never go for it,” Violet said.

  “That was when you first told me about it. Circumstances have changed now. Dr. Tayeb and Nurse Williams have been killed and Alice is still missing. I don’t think even Simon Crozier would deny us the right to look into it. He’s sanctioned assignments for less. Let me speak with him.” He got to his feet. “I’ll call you as soon as I have. Later today, okay?”

  Violet reached out her hand and grabbed his, squeezing it tightly. “Thanks, Harry.”

  “Do you think a full Department 18 investigation is appropriate at this time, Harry?” Simon Crozier said, and wiped a stray fingerprint from the surface of his smoked glass desk with the sleeve of his jacket.

  Harry regarded him for a moment. “Totally appropriate. Two people have been killed and the girl is still missing. More importantly it’s Vi Bulmer’s niece, and as you well know, Vi’s a friend of the department. She’s helped us immeasurably in the past. We owe her.”

  Crozier slowly nodded his head. “I agree that Violet Bulmer has been a great asset over the years, but I’m just concerned that your objectivity might be compromised by your personal feelings for her.”

  “Bollocks!” Harry exploded. “You know me better than that. Why do you have to turn everything into a battle, Simon? I should have come to you when Vi first called me, but I didn’t because I knew what your reaction would be.”

  “Which is?”

  “This. Weighing up the severity of a case with one eye on the purse strings.”

  “Careful, Harry. I don’t have to take that, not even from one of my oldest friends. Of course I’m concerned about Violet’s niece, but this Strasser person, what evidence do you have that he’s not just a crank?”

  “The doctor and nurse at the clinic for a start.”

  “But you’re still waiting for the results of the postmortem. You have no evidence that Strasser was in any way involved. The nurse could have died from a brain hemorrhage and the doctor choked on her own tongue. Both could be classified as natural causes. There’s no evidence of a paranormal attack.”

  “Apart from the fact that they were both healthy young women who seemed to have dropped dead within minutes of each other. Circumstances that could only benefit Strasser.”

  Crozier seemed to flinch. “Well, put like that…”

  “Let me pull a team together to go after Strasser and return Alice Logan to her family.”

  Crozier took a deep breath, held it for a moment, and then blew it out through his lips. “Very well, Harry. Do that, but bear in mind, although you might not like it, books have to be balanced and funding for the department comes under scrutiny by the Select Committee next month. I’m expected to justify our budget and account for every penny. Don’t let this investigation turn into a three-ring circus.”

  “I’ll be circumspect,” Harry said.

  “Well, I suppose there’s a first time for everything. Go on, get out of here and assemble your team. Keep me in the loop.”

  Harry grinned and made for the door.

  “And, Harry, give Violet Bulmer my best wishes.”

  “Vi? Simon Crozier’s agreed to full Department 18 involvement.” Harry leaned against the wall in the corridor and spoke into his cell phone.

  “That’s marvelous, Harry. Thank you so much. So what happens next?”

  “I’m going to put together a team to go after Strasser. I want to take his life apart and see what makes him tick. See why he needs Alice. As I said, this kind of crank usually has a plan.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “There’s usually something behind what they do. World domination, raising Satan, bringing the Antichrist back to earth… There’s usually some kind of grandiose plan. These people tend to think in clichés. We need to find out what’s behind Strasser’s personal cliché.”

  “You are taking him seriously?” Violet sounded concerned.

  “Even people without an ounce of original thought can be dangerous and need to be taken seriously,” Harry said. “You never know, Strasser might surprise us and come up with something new.”

  “Is there anything I can do in the meantime?”

  “Keep digging,” Harry said. “Impey and his team are good—the best—but I know what you are capable of. You might uncover something. And I want your boy Jason on the team. I’ve kept an eye on him over the years. He may be a bit of a cowboy, but he’s dedicated and very capable.”

  “Shall I ask him to meet with you in Whitehall?”

  “Yes, send him along. One other thing, I want to go and see your sister.”

  “Stephanie? Why?”

  “I need to find out more about Alice. Your sister’s best placed to tell me all about her.”

  “I’ll arrange for you to meet with her.”

  “As soon as possible.”

  “I’ll call her now and fix it up. I’ll call you back.”

  “Oh, and Simon Crozier sends his best wishes.”

  “I don’t know Simon Crozier. Only what you’ve told me about him.”

  “But he knows of you, and he’s aware of the help you’ve given us in the past. He may be a pompous prick sometimes, but I believe his heart’s in the right place.”

  “Thank him for me, Harry. I really appreciate this.”

  “He knows, but I’ll send your thanks anyway.”

  Jason West knocked on the door to Harry’s office and stood, tapping his foot, waiting to be called in. Instead the door was pulled open and Harry stood there, tie askew, sweat staining a shirt that was a stranger to an iron. Crumbs from the sandwich he was holding peppered his mouth. “Jason,” he said. “Good of you to come over so quickly.” He lifted the hand holding the sandwich. “Sorry about this. I picked it up from the service station at Membury and haven’t had a chance to eat it until now. I finally had to give in to my ulcer. It gives me hell if I don’t feed it.”

  Jason stepped into the cluttered office. With curly brown hair creeping over the collar of his denim jacket and gold studs through the lobes of each ear, he looked more like a fairground roustabout than a serious psychic investigator. That was why Harry Bailey liked him and wanted him on his team. It was good to have people around him who didn’t conform. They were more likely to think out of the box.

  “And are you?” Harry said.

  “Am I what?”

  “Romany. You look Romany. Didn’t I say?”

  “No.”

  “Well, I was thinking it. Are you?”

  Jason smiled. “On my mother’s side, yes.”

  “Thought so.” Harry beamed. “Good instincts, the gypsies. You don’t mind that term?”

&nb
sp; Jason shook his head. “I’ve been called worse,” he said. “Vi said we’re fighting the clock, so I thought I’d better get over here straight away.”

  “Quite right. No time to lose. She’s just phoned me and arranged for us to meet her sister this evening. Are you up for it? It means a drive over to Hertfordshire. I shouldn’t think we’ll get back until after the pubs shut.”

  “That’s not a problem. I don’t drink.”

  “Nor me,” Harry said.

  “Do you have a problem with it?”

  “I like it too much. That’s the problem I have with it. Anyway, let’s not drag our feet. Stephanie Logan is expecting us.”

  “I thought I was here to meet the people in your team.”

  “And so you shall. Tomorrow maybe. When I’ve chosen them.”

  Chapter Seven

  Stephanie Logan’s house was nothing out of the ordinary: a neat three-story townhouse, set in the leafy Hertfordshire town of Hitchin. They pulled up in the street outside, under a sodium street lamp that cast an orange glow over the front gardens. They got out of the car and stood looking at the house.

  “Not what I was expecting,” Jason said.

  “Really?”

  “Well, Vi’s place is probably worth six times more than this. I suppose I was expecting something similar.”

  “Vi married well. Francis Bulmer was a big noise in the city,” Harry said.

  “I didn’t know Vi was married—she never mentioned a husband.”

  “No, she’s a widow,” Harry said. “Frank Bulmer died the year after they married, and Vi copped the entire estate. It’s why she doesn’t work. She doesn’t need to.”

  “I wondered. How long have you known her?”

  “Long enough. Anyway, let’s crack on. I’ll tell you about Vi and me another time.” Harry strode up the path and pressed the doorbell.

  The woman who answered the door and introduced herself as Stephanie Logan surprised Jason as much as where she lived. Fine boned and smartly dressed in a gray business suit, an expensive haircut and a string of pearls at her throat, Stephanie Logan seemed to be the opposite of Violet Bulmer in every way.