by J. R. Ellis
‘What put you on to what was actually happening, sir?’ asked Steph.
‘It just dawned on me slowly. I went to see As You Like It with my partner.’ Oldroyd wandered around the room as he spoke, examining everything. He’d always fancied being an actor. ‘She’d already told me that in the small touring company we saw, the actors played lots of different parts, and then there is a famous speech by a character called Jaques. He says, “All the world’s a stage” and “one man in his time plays many parts”. That really implanted the idea in my mind, and I realised what could have happened. None of the three men were native villagers and they’d all arrived relatively recently. So, unlike the local people who had no reason to question what they saw, I was looking for a pattern, and I could see one. Three men who arrived in the village one after the other, not too far apart but not too close for it to seem odd. They were all very different from each other in voice, dress, stature, facial appearance, and I realised that a skilled actor specialising in disguise could play all three.
‘Then, believe it or not, I got further confirmation for my theory from an old Sherlock Holmes film, a black-and-white thing from the 1940s. It’s amazing where you get help from if you keep your mind open.’
‘What happens in that, then, sir?’ asked Steph. ‘It sounds a bit obscure.’
‘It is, and I’m sure Patrick Wilson never saw it, but what happens is uncannily similar to what happened in Niddersgill, just made a bit more melodramatic. Holmes and Watson go to this village in Canada where people are being murdered, apparently by a strange beast with a huge claw. Holmes works out that there is a link between the victims, and that the murderer is disguised as a villager but they don’t know which one. His weapon is a five-pronged garden fork which keeps the myth of the beast alive. Holmes traps him by taking on a disguise himself. At least I didn’t have to do that. It’s great stuff. I’d seen it years ago and something about this case jogged my memory.’
‘Bloody hell!’ said Andy, shaking his head. ‘Well, this is really one for the records, isn’t it? Two murders committed by people who didn’t exist. Sometimes I wonder what on earth’s going to happen next when I’m working for you, sir.’
Oldroyd started to laugh, but then they heard Gibbs shouting for them in the room above and they went quickly back up the stairs.
‘I see you’ve found another room, sir,’ observed Gibbs. ‘Anything down there?’
‘Yes, and it confirms everything. We need to get a forensics team up here to go through it all. Did you find Matthew Hart?’
‘No, sir,’ said Gibbs, clearly disappointed to bring bad news. ‘The door was open but there was no one in the barn. No dead body either, you’ll be pleased to know, but there were some signs of a hasty exit. I found this on the floor and wondered whether it could be a clue.’ He handed the picture to Oldroyd. ‘Maybe Hart dropped it deliberately. I know it’s a long shot but—’
Oldroyd could not contain his excitement and turned to Gibbs. ‘Stop there, Bill. You’ve done brilliantly: tremendous attention to detail.’ He brandished the paper. ‘I know what this picture means and where Hart has taken Wilson. I’m not sure why he’s taken him there, but I have an idea. Let’s go – we may still be able to save him.’
Seven
Amerdale Dub
Scosthorp Moor
Huntershaw Ridge
Sourmire Moor
The two former partners in crime were trudging across the wet fields. Hart was in front, closely followed by Wilson with the shotgun. A fine drizzle still fell and the mist was now very low, obscuring the view in every direction. Wilson stayed on the alert for anyone else who might be on the path.
‘You were right, Pat. I have been expecting you,’ said Hart, grim-faced but calm.
‘Well, here I am, you piece of shit,’ snarled Wilson. He spoke in a cockney accent. His face, stripped of all make-up and hair, looked hard. His voice was harsh and his manner slouching and aggressive. He was totally unlike any of his three identities in the village.
‘Oh yes,’ said Hart. ‘I heard the news yesterday morning too. The police are on to you so you had to make a move. I have to congratulate you on your disguises. You had me fooled.’
‘Good try at changing your appearance, but not good enough. I recognised you straight away when I saw you in the village,’ said Wilson. ‘When you’re good at disguises yourself, you can also see through them. Did the cops plant you here?’
They’d stopped. Hart kept the conversation going, playing for time. ‘Yes. They thought you might show up, as Fraser and Gorton were here.’
Wilson laughed. ‘You weren’t clever enough, were you? I’d come up here to get Fraser, who I’d tracked down to his nice little retirement house. I couldn’t believe it when I found Gorton here too. And then . . . when I saw you!’ He grinned and shook his head. ‘It was almost enough to make me believe that God, or in my case the Devil, was on my side. I had to take more time and make my scheme more elaborate.’
‘You’re a great actor, Pat. Why didn’t you stay in the theatre?’ Hart hoped a compliment might distract his enemy.
‘You can’t make any money unless you’re a big name. I had to work hard at a poncey drama school, where people made fun of my accent, to train to be an actor. I always wanted to do it, but then I soon got sick of all those posh glamour types getting all the best parts, just because they’d got the looks. None of them were better actors than me.’
‘I’ll bet they weren’t.’
‘The bloody directors got on my nerves too. Half of them didn’t know what they were talking about. I lost a lot of parts through saying what I thought, and the work dried up.’
‘So what happened?’
‘I watched a lot of crime films, robberies and stuff, and I thought: Patrick, you’re wasted, you could use your talents to make a lot of money. I had a few old friends from my schooldays who’d been in trouble. I put feelers out and got in with the right – or some would say wrong – people.’ There was a nasty grin on Wilson’s face. ‘I was a great asset to any team planning a robbery, as you know. I could impersonate a security guard or the manager of a bank. I only had to observe for a while without them knowing. I got into all kinds of places and when they realised it was a hoax, it was too late.’ He smiled again with fond remembrance. ‘Anyway.’ He raised the gun again. ‘We haven’t got time for this. Move on.’
Hart said nothing. They were gradually making their way to the wooded area recently visited by Oldroyd and Dexter. He hoped that the message he’d left had got to the chief inspector, although it was very unlikely. He wasn’t unduly worried. It would be good to have their support, but he could deal with the situation himself.
‘Phil was a good mate of mine. He bloody topped himself inside because of you, and I knew why,’ said Wilson.
‘Yes, he made the mistake of showing me an old lock-up garage he had in the back streets near where he used to live in Balham. He must have realised once he was inside that I would work out where his share of the money was. And I did.’
‘You bastard.’ Wilson dug the gun hard into Hart’s back. ‘You not only double-crossed us but you took his money as well. No wonder he couldn’t stand the idea of you having it. Poor sod.’
Hart turned round and looked at Wilson with blazing anger.
‘Double-crossing!’ rasped Hart. ‘Well, you and Traynor should know all about that. Do you remember Tony Anderson?’
Wilson lowered the gun and looked at Hart. ‘Anderson?’ he said.
‘Yes. Tony Anderson. He was only a young lad. He was awestruck by your glamour, and then you and Traynor took him out on his first robbery, swearing him to silence. You left him on guard outside that jeweller’s shop, and when the cops arrived you both disappeared out of the back leaving him to take the rap. Without realising it, his role was to slow the police down and give you time to escape.’
‘That’s how you learn in our world: the hard way.’
‘It was bloody hard for him
, wasn’t it? He wouldn’t say who else was involved as he’d been brainwashed and threatened into loyalty by you and that set of bastards you worked with. He was sent down for four years at the age of eighteen. He rotted in prison for some of his best years, thanks to you.’
‘What the hell do you care about all that?’ Wilson raised the gun again.
‘Because he was my sister’s boy. My nephew.’ Wilson lowered the gun and looked at Hart in surprise. ‘Janice tried hard to keep him out of trouble – she didn’t want him to go the same way as me and Dad. She was heartbroken when he went to prison.’
‘Shit!’ exclaimed Wilson, realising where this was going. ‘So that’s what it was all about! You ratted on me and Phil to get revenge.’
‘I did.’ Hart spat this out with contempt. ‘I planned out exactly what I was going to do. There was no other way I could get back at you other than by getting involved with you on a job, and then betraying you just as you did to Tony. You never suspected a thing. And I took Phil’s money from the garage. I’ve given some to Janice to help her with the family and to get Tony some training and a job. I’d have got hold of yours too if I could. Neither of you two bastards deserved anything.’
Wilson laughed. ‘Well, well,’ he said. ‘That explains a lot. But it’s all fallen apart now, hasn’t it? You’re going to show me where you’ve hidden Phil’s money and then I might let you go. Just for old times’ sake.’
Hart knew that was nonsense. Wilson would shoot him immediately when he knew where the money was hidden. They continued to walk through the fields on the edge of the bank of mist.
The two squad cars sped along the sodden lanes until they could get no nearer to their destination by road. Then they abandoned the cars and continued on foot along muddy paths.
‘Wilson is a ruthless criminal and he’s already killed two people. Bill, I want you to deploy and control the armed officers. Get near to the target and circle it. We’ll try to talk him round. I just hope we’re not too late.’
‘Where exactly are we going, sir?’ asked Steph.
‘To an ice house.’
‘A what?’ said Andy, so surprised he forgot to add ‘sir’.
‘An ice house. One with spiders in it.’
Andy gave Steph a glance of incredulity. She smiled and shrugged her shoulders. Sometimes, with DCI Oldroyd, you just had to play along, however bizarre things seemed.
Wilson and Hart were walking up the path from the pond towards the ice house, which had appeared out of the mist.
‘What the bloody hell is this?’ said Wilson.
‘It’s an ice house, a deep pit where they used to store ice for use in the summer.’
‘OK, quit the history lesson, I’m not stupid. And you’ve hidden the stuff in there?’
‘Yes. We go in here.’ Hart showed Wilson the iron entrance gate to the short tunnel which led to the brick-lined pit. ‘This gate is usually left open, but I’ve brought a padlock. We don’t want anyone coming in while we’re here getting the money and diamonds, do we?’
Wilson stepped just inside the gate. He looked around suspiciously for a few moments, then said, ‘OK, but don’t try anything stupid.’
While Hart locked the gate with the padlock, Wilson trained the gun on him.
‘Right, so where is it?’ he asked.
Hart walked down the tunnel.
‘Just over here, but I thought you’d like to see these first.’ Hart suddenly produced a flashlight from his pocket and shone it on the roof of the tunnel, which was only inches above their heads. The flashlight illuminated the large cave spiders, their long legs gripping the cold damp stone and the numerous strange, round white egg sacs hanging from the roof between them.
Wilson uttered a piercing scream and ran back to the gate. He shook it. ‘Open it! Open it now,’ he yelled. ‘You know I can’t stand spiders! Open it or I’ll shoot you!’
Hart was standing by the entrance to the pit. He had the key in his hand and was holding it over the deep drop into the circular chamber.
‘Come over here and put the gun down by me. If you don’t, I’ll drop this key and you’ll not get out of here until someone else arrives and they break the padlock. That could be a long time.’
‘No!’ screamed Wilson. ‘I have to get out now,’ he gasped. ‘I can’t breathe.’ He stumbled across to Hart and dropped the gun. Hart picked it up and handed Wilson the key. Frantically, Wilson ran back to the gate and fumbled with the padlock, his hands shaking. He managed to open it and lunged out of the tunnel. Figures loomed up ahead of him, coming out of the woods, and he heard a voice shouting.
‘Stop! There are armed police officers surrounding this area. If you have a weapon, put it down and raise your hands.’
Wilson recognised Oldroyd on the path. As soon as he had got out of the tunnel, the terrifying grip of his arachnophobia relaxed and he regained control. He ran diagonally up the hill and disappeared into the mist.
‘Damn!’ shouted Oldroyd. ‘Bill, stand the armed officers down. I don’t think he has a weapon. We can’t use them to pursue him in this mist, they’ll never get a clear view and they’ll end up shooting us.’ Inspector Gibbs gave the order and the other officers gathered round Oldroyd.
‘OK. Steph, you and I are going to pursue him. You know the terrain around here.’
‘Sir,’ replied Steph.
‘Bill, Andy, go in and see what’s happened to Hart. I haven’t heard any shots so I hope he’s OK. Arrest him. He’s got a lot of questions to answer. You should also be able to start the process of recovering some of the loot from the Drover Road robbery.’
‘Right, sir.’
‘I’m OK, Chief Inspector.’ At that moment, Hart appeared from the tunnel with the shotgun. One of the armed officers trained a gun on him, but Hart placed Wilson’s weapon on the ground and raised his hands. ‘Don’t worry, I’m not trying to escape or anything. I’m finished with all that.’
‘Fine,’ said Oldroyd. He nodded to Steph. ‘Let’s go.’
Patrick Wilson blundered over a stile and up through the woods towards Yorke’s Folly. His only hope was that the mist would hide him and he would be able to somehow get back to the village. He had hidden a motorbike near the cottage so that he could make a quick getaway. Unfortunately, the mist made it impossible for him to see where he was. It would have been difficult even if he’d had a better knowledge of the area. He paused for breath and listened. Sounds were muffled in the mist, but in the distance he could just about hear rustling and the cracking of twigs. He was being followed. Damn that Hart and the bloody spiders! Then he heard voices. One was that chief inspector, who called out.
‘Wilson!’ The sound came eerily through the mist. They were not far away. ‘You can’t escape. There are too many of us. Give yourself up.’
Wilson plunged on, trying to put some distance between himself and his pursuers. The swirling mist had soaked him through. A large branch loomed up and he ran into it. He uttered a curse, which was heard by Oldroyd and Steph.
‘He’s over there, sir. He’ll be at the folly soon. We might have a chance to corner him there. I’ll go down this way and try to get ahead of him and you chase from behind.’
‘OK,’ replied Oldroyd, who was glad that his running with Deborah had increased his fitness. He carried on after Wilson, calling out at regular intervals, partly to distract him from noticing that Steph was moving in front of him.
Suddenly the trees thinned out ahead of Wilson and the stone edifices of the folly appeared out of the mist, looking dark and sinister. He hid behind one of the stone pillars, breathing heavily and looking from side to side. He thought he must be at that stone thing on the hillside which he’d seen many times from the road, so if he went down through the woods from here and kept in a straight line he was bound to hit the road. Then, hopefully, he could creep his way back to the village, get the motorbike and escape. He moved off quickly before Oldroyd could catch up with him, but suddenly found his way barred by a f
emale officer.
‘Stop there!’ shouted Steph firmly, but Wilson ran on. Steph tried to stop him but he hurled himself past her. He was on the top of the ridge now and the mist was at its thickest. He heard Steph shout behind him.
‘Watch out! You’re on the edge of the cliff, it’s dangerous and—’
Those were the last words that Wilson heard. Suddenly there was nothing under his feet as he stepped over the cliff edge and, with a cry, fell forty feet on to a huge boulder of millstone grit.
Inside the tunnel entrance to the ice house, Hart was calm as he showed Bill Gibbs and Andy where he’d hidden the money and diamonds. Andy prised a loose stone from the wall to reveal a cavity filled with canvas bags. He pulled them out and opened them. Some were stuffed with rolls of banknotes; some were filled with diamonds which glimmered weakly in the dim tunnel.
‘There’s a fortune here,’ said Gibbs.
‘There is,’ agreed Hart. ‘The Drover Road robbery was very lucrative. This is only a third of what we took. But I’m not proud of it. I’ve used some of the money for a good cause but I haven’t touched the diamonds.’
Andy looked at the money and the jewels. It suddenly struck him how weird the whole thing was: all this effort and struggle and violence over some bits of paper and sparkly rocks in some grubby bags. He looked up and saw the spiders on the roof. Sometimes the world of basic creatures like those was easier to understand than that of your fellow humans.
At the top of Guisecliff, Oldroyd appeared through the mist. Steph strode out to stop him.
‘What was that cry?’ he asked.
