“The new house, the new furniture, the fast car and the holidays must have soured on his tongue when he thought how much trouble he would be in if he was ever found out,” Reilly said grimly. “And I don’t think he was so stupid that he didn’t realize how dangerous a game he was playing.
“Then you came back on the scene, Ellie. You were reinstated because of the review of the Sunshine Slasher case, but you also insisted that you were going to clear your name. That caused panic among the gang whose ugly mugs were featured on that videotape, and Richards was detailed to find it—or else. He packed his wife and child off to visit her parents in India—things had not been going well because Richards was under so much stress, and she didn’t take a lot of persuading. But Richards started to worry that she wouldn’t come back to him, and he wanted everything closed up quickly. Every time he tried to get to you, someone was around. Of course, the whole thing was badly screwed up when you found that poor woman’s body on the beach.”
“Richards must have really thought the gods were against him,” Ellie said thoughtfully. “And it certainly explains the expert way this place was searched, and that weird feeling I had sometimes of being watched.”
Reilly smiled grimly. “Richards was watching you in his spare time, trying to get in and search the place. Then, when he didn’t find anything, Alfie Morris and his gang got impatient and gave Richards a beating, scaring Jay into going after you.”
“So it really was Alfie Morris?” Ellie shivered as she remembered that the cruel man who’d hidden behind the light was none other than Alfie Morris.
“Yeah, and we got him all right. The guys caught him bolting through the front door as we broke in through the back.” Reilly grinned with satisfaction.
“And the other two apes?” Ellie said, remembering with a shudder the rough hands that had pawed her.
“Well, the one you hit with the lamp has a very sore head, but he’s enjoying a stay in Her Majesty’s prison hospital. So is the other bloke, and I’m pleased to say you did more damage to him than he did to you. When we dragged you off him, he was clutching his balls and yowling pretty loud!”
“And Alfie Morris was behind the whole thing!” Ellie marveled.
“Ah, love, you’ll have to wait for the telling of the story before you drool over the full extent of your triumph!” Reilly teased, chuckling at the black look she gave him. “Morris had warned Richards that Patel might have sent some evidence to you. Richards searched your office and your flat looking for something, probably documents. They couldn’t find anything, so they had a woman—probably one of Morris’ stable of prostitutes—pretend to be you and deposit that money into your account. The cunning old bastard Morris knew that the police were highly sensitive to any suggestion of corruption, after the scandals a couple of years ago. He knew Harris would be forced to react swiftly.”
“And he sure did,” Ellie said, her voice laced with bitterness and her fist scrunching up the sheet she’d pulled up around her.
“Not so much as you might think. Harris had taken your concerns about being stalked to heart. When this whole thing with the possible bribes came up, he was far from convinced, on the evidence, that you were guilty. But he decided you’d be safer out of the picture, so he suspended you indefinitely. But he refused your resignation.”
Ellie sighed. “It would have made things so much easier if he’d told me this.”
“But he knew that if he’d told you, you wouldn’t have been able to keep from investigating—and maybe getting yourself in worse trouble with Morris and the like. Then Morris somehow found out about the tape. Richards searched but couldn’t find it. When you came back on the scene, Morris told Richards precisely what was going to happen to him if he didn’t retrieve the evidence.”
“So Richards was behind the break-ins at my place just before I was suspended—but what about that feeling I had that I was being followed? Was I being paranoid?” Ellie held her breath for the answer.
“No, love,” Reilly’s voice was a sigh, “No—believe it or not, I was one of your ‘stalkers,’ as I’ve already said, watching from a distance. I couldn’t be there all the time, you see, and I didn’t want you to feel you were being covered and let your guard down. But Richards followed you a few times, and Morris had some of his unsavory little friends tail you as well, to see what contacts you made with the storekeepers. They were getting desperate to find out what you had and who had talked. If they could have pinned anything down to Patel, he’d probably have taken a bath in the River Aire—a permanent one.”
“Good God, Alfie Morris—I’m getting shivers just thinking of having him after me!” Ellie said, leaning her head on Reilly’s shoulder and reaching again for the comfort of his hand.
“Not surprising. He’s a dangerous thug with more nasty deeds on his conscience than most I can think of. The difference between Alfie and the regular thug-on-the-street is that Alfie’s been smart enough—and slippery enough—to avoid paying the price for most of them. Until now.” Reilly put his arm around her and pulled her close. “This time, we got him, Ellie—thanks to you. We’ve got him on racketeering, intimidation, several counts of assault and incitement, kidnapping a police officer, assaulting a police officer, and inciting another person to commit murder.”
Ellie heard the excitement in Reilly’s voice and her own pleasure at his news intensified. “It was Alfie, the man who ordered them to kill me?” Her voice cracked a little as shivers of remembered fear whispered down her spine.
“Oh, yes. That was Alfie—and now his buddies are so afraid that everything is going to be landed on them that they’re falling all over each other to tell us just how much Alfie is to blame. They’ve even fingered him for things we didn’t know he was involved with!”
Ellie’s smile faded and her look was deadly serious when she next held Reilly’s gaze. “Richards didn’t have anything to do with the latest murder, did he?”
Reilly was silent for a moment, caressing her thigh with his fingers beneath the sheets. “No, love. We can’t get him for that. He has an airtight alibi because he was at a bachelor party with a bunch of the lads from the station—and most of them can vouch for his presence for most of the evening until about five a.m. That still leaves Bradley Scott Anderson.” Reilly sighed, his chest tight with fear for Ellie’s reaction to the man’s name. Would she want to rush from the bed they’d shared and to Anderson’s side?
Ellie sat up suddenly in bed, making Reilly’s worst fears came to life. “God, Reilly—If Brad hears this on the news he’s going to be worried sick!”
Ellie scrambled out of the bed, gathering up her clothes. “I’d better call and let him know I’m all right.” As she slipped into her robe, the sight of her near-naked body swamped him with a sadness and longing, and he had to avert his gaze from the livid bruises and cuts that marred the ivory of her skin.
“I’ve already contacted your sister and she’s letting your mother and father know. This is bound to be in the papers and on the morning news.”
“Thank you,” Ellie said, touched by his thoughtfulness. “Still Brad ought to know I’m okay before he hears the news.”
“Why should he be so worried?” Reilly asked stiffly.
“Because he’s my friend—dammit, Reilly, he’s asked me to marry him!” Ellie said, reaching for her cell phone. She missed the dark look on his face as she replaced the receiver. “There’s no answer.”
Reilly quickly dressed while Ellie was in the shower, and was waiting for her when she came into the living room, dressed but still toweling her hair; Ellie leaned over to kiss his cheek and was shocked by his coldness. She couldn’t imagine what had opened this chasm between them, but she wasn’t kept in the dark long.
“It can’t be a secret, after last night, that I still want you, Ellie. Like you said, we always were good together. But you’ve got to decide if it’s just sex you want. You are going to have to make a choice.”
A knot of apprehension clotted
in her stomach. Their lovemaking had left her sated, happy—in love. Yet Reilly had marched from the room after giving her an ultimatum, as if whatever happened next was up to her. She wanted to answer him, to ask him what he meant.
But Brad appeared on her terrace, knocking on the patio doors, and the moment was lost. His face bleak, Reilly pushed past the other man and left the cottage. Ellie had to call after him to ask him to wait for her. Her car had been impounded for evidence after Richards had forced her to drive last night.
He agreed with bad grace, and opted to wait for her in his car. The sight of Brad Scott’s glowering face did little to lift his mood. Rubbing the man’s nose in the idea that he had spent the night with Ellie had been satisfying and amusing that first time, after the break-in when he’d kept guard in his car. No doubt he could have taunted Anderson now with the reality of having made love with Ellie. But haunting him was the way she had jumped out of bed propelled by an urgency to let Anderson know that she was all right, protesting, “…he’s asked me to marry him!”
The words rang in Reilly’s ears as he watched Brad stalk into Ellie’s cottage. If only he knew what the woman wanted! Reilly was sure in his own mind what he wanted - he wanted her. But did her feelings run no deeper than sex? “We were always good together,” she’d said. Reilly smiled grimly. A phrase that should be music to a man’s ears. Yet he wanted so much more than a satisfying romp between the sheets. He wanted her love. And if Ellie had really given her heart to Anderson, would it matter to her that the man may be destined for prison?
For the first time in his life, Liam Reilly felt he was outgunned in a fight, and might well be the loser.
Resort to Murder
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Ellie paused outside the briefing room door, pulling in a deep breath to dissipate the tension she felt. Even though the previous night had seen the downfall of a major crime figure in the area, it also seen the downfall of a fellow officer. And police officers didn’t like one of their own going down. Would the all-boys club close ranks once more and shut her out? She would know the answer soon enough.
Word had gone out, via a discreet call from the desk sergeant, that Ellie Fitzpatrick was in the station, and they were waiting for her. The room fell silent as she entered. She fought the anger that pricked wetly behind her eyes—she’d proven she had as much right to be there as anyone! She was determined to stay on the Linda Luscious/Roberta Collins case. She deserved a piece of that action, and she wasn’t going to let a bunch of chauvinistic police officers whisk it away from her. Even so, it took all her strength not to turn tail and run as she stepped into the room filled with silent officers.
Then the clapping and the cheering started. The standing ovation rang in her ears and it took her some moments to realize they were clapping for her, cheering for her. She grinned in delight as she heard the cries of, “Well done, Ellie!”
“Good Job, Inspector Fitzpatrick!”
Colin Peterson came toward her, offering her his hand in a hearty handshake. “Well done, lass—you’ve put away one of the worst villains that’s ever plagued this manor. And some of his nasty little playmates as well. It looks like we’ll get the whole slew of them, Ellie. The guys arrested last night are singing their little hearts out, hoping to get lighter sentences!”
“Yeah, especially the one Ellie kneed in the balls—they say he’s singing soprano!” A DC by the name of Halford called out to a burst of laughter.
When the room quieted a little, Ellie asked if Reilly had arrived yet. Knowing looks, winks and smirks flowed across the room, but she shrugged them off good-naturedly.
“Gee, Ellie, maybe he’s tired from his extra work last night,” Jane Corby said sweetly.
“You were looking for me?” a familiar voice said, and Ellie swung around. Reilly was glowering again, and she didn’t have a clue what was wrong with him. Sorrow placed a cold hand on her heart as she wondered if he regretted the night they’d spent together. She slipped into one of the empty seats as officers not involved in the case left the room under Reilly’s irritable gaze.
It seemed she couldn’t please either of the men in her life, she decided ruefully, remembering Brad’s arrival at the cottage that morning. He certainly hadn’t chosen an auspicious moment, with Reilly in a foul mood as he waited impatiently for Ellie to get ready for work. Brad had heard the news before she could call him, and he’d hurried to the cottage with dread on his face. His expression when he saw her told her better than any mirror could just how bad she looked.
“My God, Ellie—you look like you’ve been hit by a steamroller! What the hell have you been doing? The radio news has been full of…”
Sadness swept over Ellie like a dark curtain. Surely Brad could sense the difference in her? She’d been floating in euphoria after making love with Reilly, but now guilt tinged that joy. “I’m fine, Brad. Just a few bruises,” she said.
“You told me you were just involved with desk work, reading files. It wasn’t exactly NYPD Blue, you said - and now look at you,” Brad accused. Ellie would have been angry had it not been for the genuine concern in his voice. “Do you need anything? You should have called me—what on earth were they thinking? You should be in hospital!”
Tell him now, commanded her heart. Tell him there’s no sense in continuing the charade our relationship has become. But even as she opened her mouth, she was overcome by his vulnerability.
“The paramedics checked me out, I’m fine. I got a lift back here.” Lies. Lies of omission. Her conscience pricked beneath her love-sensitized skin. Weren’t those the worst lies of all?
Brad offered refuge from the media at his cottage, but she refused, saying she was needed at the station to clear up the paperwork. She hoped he accepted that Reilly was just there to escort her to the station, but memories of the night’s lovemaking brought a gentle flush to her cheeks. Almost as if he’d read her thoughts, Brad’s face also colored.
He remarked sarcastically that maybe she could find time for him later in the day and, with a brief, dry kiss on her unresponsive lips, he turned on his heel and walked out.
****
Ellie determinedly put these thoughts from her mind as Reilly introduced Dr. Reuben Stimms, a criminal psychologist with experience in profiling.
“Most people think sociopaths, or psychopaths, if you prefer, all become serial killers and are few and far between. But your basic psychopath has what we in the trade call antisocial personality disorder.” Dr. Stimms leaned back in his chair and surveyed the assembled police officers from youthful eyes set in an old man’s face.
“Now, antisocial personality disorder is characterized by behavioral patterns lacking moral and ethical standards. There’s usually conflict with authority from an early age. Psychopaths display varying levels of aggressive, impulsive behavior, emotional immaturity, lack of guilt feelings, and a marvelous ability to rationalize bad behavior, or blame others. Sound familiar?”
“My mother in law,” muttered a young officer, and Dr. Stimms smiled.
“Ah, now, probably not—this condition is considered relatively unusual in women. Our man is probably like any person you might meet, on the surface. Doesn’t have ‘Serial Killer’ stamped on his forehead. Psychopaths are good at covering themselves. One point to remember—because these people don’t appear to feel real emotion, they often learn from an early age to fake it. Pushed into a situation where emotional responses are necessary, the psychopath mostly will give you what you expect to see. Or what he thinks will get him what he wants.”
Ellie listened intently to the next speaker. Dr. Sarah Mansfield, a forensics expert, gave an overview of the evidence to date.
“We’ve examined the scene, and tested DNA material. It is clear that this murder was not perpetrated by the same person who killed the four women in the Sunshine Slasher case. So we have someone new. It’s hard to categorize this as a copycat, because the scenes are different, but this could be because our new boy doesn’t know
enough about how the Slasher set the scene. Or it could be that he intended there to be differences. However, I’d say he panicked once the deed was done, and didn’t hang around to add the Slasher’s little touches.”
Ellie finally let out the breath she’d been holding. Not the Sunshine Slasher, but a copycat. She sought Reilly’s face—and found his eyes already on her. His face was etched in grim lines, a haunted hollowness in his cheeks as if he were already looking into the empty eyes of more victims of this new madman.
“How does this scene differ from the Slasher cases?” Ellie asked.
“Well, the Slasher carefully arranged his victims’ naked bodies, so as to leave them looking as if they were masturbating. Indeed, we can assume—and Dr. Stimms will correct me if I’m wrong—that the Slasher was making a statement about the morals of his victims, that they deserved what he did to them.”
Dr. Mansfield paused to take a drink of water and Ellie also reached for one of the water jugs, her own mouth dry with tension. The doctor began to speak again as Ellie poured water into her own glass.
“This case does have some rather disturbing similarities to the Slasher, however. Judging by the pattern of the wound edges, our new boy used a very worn, very sharp blade—like an antique surgical tool.”
Water sloshed over the table as the jug slipped in Ellie’s suddenly nerveless fingers. Her face startlingly white against the purpling bruises, she apologized and thanked Colin Peterson for the huge snowy handkerchief to mop up the spill.
Aware of curious eyes on her, she took a sip of water and settled back in her seat, her thoughts straying to Brad’s comment about the antique scalpel, and mad Hector Abbott’s assertion that he’d kept the secret of his art.
Resort to Murder Page 17
