Puppet: A DI Charlotte Savage Novel

by Mark Sennen

  ‘That was heat of the moment.’ Riley shook his head. ‘But the butchery? Some of them were beguiled by him, but the majority wouldn’t have wanted to have anything to do with killing Abigail Duffy and Fiona Jones.’

  ‘Well someone did.’

  ‘Sure.’ Riley reached for the diary. ‘I’ve got to go and speak to Collier and make a decision on what to do.’

  Savage watched as Riley got up and talked to the office manager. The SIO role was weighing heavily, and for once, she was glad she wasn’t in his position. Glad, also, she could now head home, have a hot shower and go to bed.

  ***

  She slept in until woken by a call on her mobile.

  ‘Charlotte. Are you OK?’ Hardin. Just a hint of sympathy and a touch of an apology in his tone.

  ‘Yes, sir.’ Savage pushed herself up in bed. ‘Mostly thanks to DC Enders. Without him I’d have drowned in a bog, or the nutters would have caught up with us.’

  ‘Nutters, yes.’ Dead air for a second. ‘No other word for them really, despite what Maria Heldon thinks.’

  ‘Is she causing trouble?’

  ‘She wants this over as quickly as possible. Wants to wrap and move on. All of which means I’d like you at God’s Haven ASAP. We need everyone we can to help out. Are you up for that?’

  Savage looked at her bedside clock. She’d managed less than four hours sleep.

  ‘Yes, sir,’ she said.

  ***

  Up at God’s Haven, a dozen officers from the Force Support Group were on guard duty. Hardin had tasked Inspector Frey with making sure the residents stayed put, and he was taking his job very seriously.

  ‘All under control,’ he said when Savage stopped at a checkpoint on the long driveway. ‘Regular perimeter patrols, a headcount every hour, and nobody gets in or out unless they’ve been cleared by sergeant rank or above.’

  Frey often went a bit over the top, but considering what had happened, for once Savage couldn’t find fault. She complimented him and drove up to the main buildings.

  Riley, Collier, Enders, Calter, several other officers and a group of CSIs, rifled their way through all the living quarters while the residents sat in the main meeting hall awaiting their fate. Calter had already identified the ring leaders who’d been about to attack her and Riley, and they’d been arrested and taken to the custody centre. Now the objective was to find evidence linking Clent, or anyone else at God’s Haven, with the murders of Abigail Duffy, Fiona Jones, Dave Smeeton and Zac Francis. So far, they’d drawn a blank.

  ‘Nothing,’ Collier said as he sifted through a bunch of paperwork in Clent’s quarters. ‘I think the best way to progress is to question a few of the residents hard and see if we can get any of them to split from the party line.’

  ‘Even if Hardin sanctioned it, I doubt they would,’ Savage said. ‘Not while there’s a chance Clent might return. However, if we can get something to stick on him, then we’ll see some of them break rank.’

  ‘Trying to put the cart before the horse.’ Collier raised his hands. ‘That’s the way I see it.’

  Savage was about to commiserate when a tap rattled on the French windows, PC Galloway standing behind the glass, beaming. She walked across and opened the doors.

  ‘Ma’am?’ Galloway said. ‘I’ve found something.’

  ‘Good of you to tell us this time,’ Savage said.

  Galloway’s face fell, and he nodded as if aware his earlier mistake was going to follow him for the foreseeable future. He turned and pointed down the valley to the corner of the farthest pasture. ‘Hagrid’s Hut.’

  ‘Hey?’

  ‘Well that’s what it looks like.’

  Galloway was right. There was a wooden building down there. Round with a conical slate roof and a single lopsided window. A stone chimney poking through the slates.

  ‘Nobody trusted me to search in the regular accommodation, so they sent me to check out the pigsty and chicken runs. I reckon the last laugh’s on me.’

  ‘Don’t keep me in suspense then,’ Savage said as she followed Galloway through a gate and across the field. ‘What’s in there?’

  ‘Living quarters. I think it was once a forge or something, but now it’s been converted.’ Galloway waved a hand back at the main buildings. ‘You know how it is up there, all crammed in. Space is at a premium.’

  When they reached the building, he led Savage inside to the single room. A bunk bed had been pushed up against one wall, and there was a table, a couple of chairs and a chest of drawers. An old rug on the flagstone floor.

  ‘Like monks,’ Savage said.

  ‘It’s similar to the conditions in the stable block,’ Galloway said. ‘A resident told me if you haven’t invested capital in the community then you only get basic accommodation, especially if you’re a single man.’

  ‘What’s the attraction?’

  ‘Security perhaps? I understand one or two of them were rough sleepers taken in by Clent. Another is an ex-army officer mentally scarred by his experiences in Afghanistan. I can see the appeal if you’re penniless or lonely or depressed.’

  ‘Marcus Clent, the saviour? I doubt it. He must have an ulterior motive.’

  ‘Does it matter if he does? These people are thankful for what he’s done for them. I wonder what will happen to them now.’ Galloway pointed across the room to the bunk bed. The upper bunk had been stripped of sheets, and a cardboard box sat on the mattress. ‘Take a look.’

  Savage moved over and peered into the box. Personal possessions. A wash kit, shaving gear, a wallet. She pulled out the wallet and flicked it open. A bus pass had been slipped in beneath a clear panel of plastic, and the gaunt face of Zac Francis stared out.

  ‘Francis was staying here,’ Savage said. ‘Clent must have offered him sanctuary.’ She pointed to the lower bunk. ‘Who was he sharing with?’

  ‘Charlene Golding told me it’s a guy by the name of Ben Kelly. Turns out Kelly has been at the community since day one. He’s got a few problems, though. He took a knock to the head a few years ago when a beam they were installing dropped on him. Ever since then, he’s been a bit temperamental.’

  ‘That could explain why he’s here on his own.’

  ‘Yes. Check under the bottom mattress.’

  Savage dumped the wallet back in the box and reached down and lifted the mattress. There was a bundle of paper.

  ‘Rough drafts of the Puppet letters,’ Galloway said. ‘Dozens of them.’

  ‘Chris, you’ve excelled yourself.’ Savage smiled. ‘All is very definitely forgiven. Now let’s find Ben Kelly.’

  ‘Wait, there’s more.’ Galloway had a grin plastered across his face. He prodded a finger to where a rug hung to the right of the stone fireplace. ‘Behind the rug, there’s a bread oven. Take a peek.’

  Savage lifted a corner of the rug. A smell of linseed oil wafted out from an alcove with a curving domed roof. As Galloway had said, it was an old bread oven. However, it wasn’t used for baking any longer. Someone had installed a couple of rough wooden shelves inside, and seven Mézáros puppets sat on the shelves staring out at Savage.

  ‘I decided I’d better not take these home for the kids to play with,’ Galloway said. ‘Right?’

  ***

  They found Ben Kelly at the edge of a small pasture dotted with sheep. He was bending down with a shovel next to a hole in the ground. A large gatepost lay nearby, along with a roll of stock wire and several dozen fencing stakes. Kelly flung a handful of earth from the hole and leaned on the shovel as they approached. He seemed to be oblivious to the events taking place at the main buildings, and Frey and his men appeared to have overlooked him or thought he was nothing to do with God’s Haven.

  ‘Them bugger pigs keep getting out,’ Kelly said as they approached. ‘Pushing through the electric fence like they don’t care.’

  Savage recognised Kelly from her first visit to God’s Haven. He’d been repairing a wall, his colossal frame allowing him to shift huge stones with ea
se. Later, at the demo outside the police station, he’d been carrying an enormous wooden cross. Now, as he straightened, she realised how big he was. Over two metres. Six and a half feet in old money. He had dusty brown hair and a high forehead. An open, honest face. A smile when he saw Savage. If this was the man who’d attacked her last night, he’d either forgotten, had a dramatic change of mood, or had no idea that she knew he was the Puppet.

  ‘DI Charlotte Savage.’ Savage had her ID out. ‘You’re Ben Kelly, right?’

  ‘They call me Benny or Kells.’ Kelly laughed, his mouth wide, bright white teeth flashing. ‘Sometimes even just Belly. Marcus Clent calls me Mr Ben. Don’t know why.’

  Kelly was late twenties, Clent late forties. Kelly wouldn’t get the TV reference that Clent obviously found amusing.

  ‘What about the Puppet? Does anyone call you that?’

  ‘That’s a secret name.’ Kelly turned from left to right, shifty, defensive. ‘Nobody’s supposed to know.’

  ‘Not even Marcus Clent?’

  ‘Especially not Mr Clent.’

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘He’d be cross. We’re not supposed to think for ourselves. We have to do what we are told. Mr Clent receives his instructions from God, and he passes them on. You can’t argue with God if you want to go to heaven.’

  ‘Is that what Clent told you?’

  ‘Yes, but it’s in the Bible too, so it must be true.’

  ‘So Mr Clent doesn’t know about the letters you sent to us?’

  ‘No, and you mustn’t tell him.’

  ‘Ma’am?’ Galloway’s hand touched Savage’s arm. He lowered his voice to a whisper. ‘Shouldn’t we arrest and caution him before we go any further?’

  Savage brushed Galloway off. Kelly’s demeanour showed he was willing to talk. Arrest him and he’d clam up. With a lawyer and some sort of responsible adult by his side, the chance to discover the truth would be minimal.

  ‘Do you understand why we’re here?’ Savage said to Kelly. ‘Why we’re interested in talking to you?’

  ‘Is it about the puppets?’ Kelly said. His face was a picture of innocence once more. ‘I should have told Mr Clent when I discovered them, but I didn’t think he’d mind if I played with them. Now I’m not so sure.’

  ‘Where did you find them?’

  ‘In the tower. Root of the earth, Mr Clent calls it.’ Kelly turned. ‘When we first came here, it was ruined. I had to shift tons of rubble by myself, and I found the puppets in a box in the lower level. There were a dozen of them. I cleaned them up and hid them. When I got my own room, I moved them there.’

  ‘And you left them at the crime scenes?’

  ‘Put one on your lawn as well, didn’t I?’ Kelly grinned for a moment but then lowered his head, embarrassed. ‘You’re pretty and I didn’t want you to get hurt. I hoped it would stop you.’

  ‘What about Fiona Jones? Wasn’t she pretty?’

  ‘Very.’ Kelly looked bereft. ‘But she couldn’t be allowed to speak Satan’s words. Mr Clent said she had the tongue of a snake and would lie about us. The community would be destroyed and we’d all be homeless.’

  ‘So you killed her.’

  ‘NO!’ Kelly stood rigid, fists clenched by his side. ‘Zac did the killing. I didn’t want to help, but Mr Clent said I had to. He said God called to Fiona, but she turned away. She chose the wrong path.’

  ‘Do you always do what Mr Clent says?’

  ‘Always. He promised me I’ll go to heaven. Here on earth, he makes sure good things happen to me.’

  ‘Good things like what?’

  ‘Treats. Nice food. Extra blankets in the winter.’ Kelly bowed his head again. ‘Other things too.’

  ‘You said in one of the letters that you were rewarded with a cuddle from a girl.’

  ‘Yes.’ A tinge of red spread on Kelly’s cheeks. ‘Marcus sends them to spend the night with me. He’s good like that.’

  ‘So when he told you to kill Dave Smeeton, you didn’t think it could be wrong?’

  ‘We had to find Fiona, and Smeeton knew where she was. He wouldn’t tell us to start with, but Zac got him to talk.’

  ‘By cutting off his toes?’

  ‘I held his leg but I didn’t watch. I don’t like bad things.’

  ‘And yet you did them. You helped kill Dave Smeeton and Fiona. You killed Abigail Duffy and buried her in the barn in the wood. Was that to stop her from running away?’

  ‘I don’t remember killing Abigail.’

  ‘Well, it wasn’t Zac Francis. He had an alibi.’

  ‘I must have then. Some things are a little hazy. My memory isn’t so good since the accident.’

  ‘Right.’ Savage let the comment go. ‘Why did you call yourself the Puppet?’

  ‘Because I had to dance.’ Kelly made a shambling motion. Wiggled his arms. ‘I had to do what Mr Clent said even though I didn’t want to.’

  ‘So you left puppets at the scenes to tell us that?’

  ‘They were for you and for God. I wanted him to know I was doing the bad things because somebody was pulling the strings.’

  ‘Mr Clent?’

  ‘Yes. And God was pulling his strings. He’s a puppet too. We all are. It makes sense if you think about it hard enough, but it spins my head round and round sometimes.’

  Savage looked at Kelly. The man was unabashed. He plainly considered himself innocent in God’s eyes. As far as he was concerned, he’d done nothing wrong. She flicked her gaze down to the fence post. Alongside the post was a bucket containing fencing staples and six-inch nails. A large lump hammer lay next to the bucket.

  ‘What about Zac Francis? You killed him, didn’t you?’

  Kelly turned his head. He stared into the distance. ‘I didn’t like what he did to Fiona. She was good to me when she was here. We were supposed to kill her, but once we’d caught her, Zac got carried away. Something inside him flipped. He enjoyed hurting her. All I did was watch. I wish I’d stopped him, but it’s too late now. Too late for anything much.’

  ‘So Mr Clent didn’t ask you to kill Francis?’

  Kelly said nothing for a while. Then he tilted his head and looked at the sky. ‘God told me to kill him.’

  ‘You know we have to take you in, don’t you, Ben?’

  ‘For killing Zac?’ Kelly slumped his shoulders. ‘That doesn’t make sense. He was an evil man. By killing him, I stopped him from finding and hurting Isobel Anderson. It was the right thing to do.’ Kelly’s expression was open again, and he appeared bewildered. There were tears in his eyes. ‘I was doing God’s work.’

  Savage stepped to one side and tapped Galloway on the shoulder.

  ‘Ben Kelly,’ Galloway began. ‘I’m arresting you on suspicion of the murder of—’

  Kelly lunged forwards, swinging the shovel. Galloway raised his arms, but they did nothing to stop the shovel from hitting him in the face. His jaw cracked to the side, blood and teeth splattering out.

  For a split second, Savage stood frozen. Then she turned and fled towards the main buildings.

  Chapter 32

  Raymond didn’t have a plan as such, only a vague notion something needed to be done. Things couldn’t carry on the way they were because sooner or later, the events up at God’s Haven were going to come to a head.

  Stands to reason. History. You can try to sweep everything under the carpet, but it never works.

  Exactly. The Black Detective was clever enough to look under the carpet, which meant the end of normal. No more liver and onions for lunch. No more closing the shop on Wednesday afternoons. No more girls dancing in the attic every now and then.

  After his trip to Sainsbury's, he’d driven back to Cattedown and parked in the garage. He slept in the van, cold in the night, waking as a thin light slanted through a rust hole in the garage door. Breakfast consisted of several slices of the white loaf, a pasty and half the milk. He relieved himself in the corner of the garage and then gave the van a once over. He topped up the coola
nt, checked the oil and tapped the fuel gauge until the needle flicked up and showed half full.

  Long journey?

  ‘Precautions, Jakab. We might have to go away for a while. Lie low until things blow over.’

  The problem is things rarely do blow over. The clouds have a habit of hanging about and raining on you until you’re drenched.

  Jakab had a tendency to be philosophical in times of crisis. Raymond found it rarely helped his mood. Words wouldn’t make any difference now. It was time for action.

  He opened the garage door to daylight, realising he’d slept longer than he’d planned to. He turned on the radio in the van, found a local station and listened to the news. As the words trickled out of the tinny speaker, he wondered if he was too late.

  The traffic was light as he drove out of the city, careful to keep within the speed limits. He headed east on the dual carriageway, turning off at Lee Mill. He took the slip road and threaded his way along narrow lanes and up onto the moor. He hadn’t been this way for years, but nothing had changed. The same stone walls bordering the lanes. The same isolated trees standing braced against the prevailing winds. The same memories hanging like a thin mist before his eyes.

  And then he was there. A sign and an open gate. Granite buildings clustered together in sad groups.

  I don’t like this place.

  Understandable, Raymond thought. Imprisoned, beaten, cold, starving. In the end, dying alone and friendless.

  Turn around. Go back.

  ‘Don’t worry, Jakab. I’m going to make everything OK. Exorcise the demons.’ He glanced at the passenger seat where the little Mézáros puppet he’d taken from the cabinet sat with the seat belt buckled across its wooden body. ‘Once and for all.’

  Raymond slowed the van as he drove through the gate. Something wasn’t right. There were several police cars parked up by the verge, a dozen officers milling around. He pulled over to the side behind one of the cars. As he did so, an officer approached. Raymond wound down the window.

  ‘Food delivery,’ Raymond said. ‘For the Black Detective.’