by K. J. Frost
“Thank you. That’s very kind.”
She turns and leads the way up the stairs. I follow, a couple of steps behind, struck by the smell of disinfectant and something a lot less appealing than Millicent Templeton’s cologne.
She takes me to a door on the landing and opens it onto the tidiest room I’ve ever seen. I thought I was a neat person, but I’m positively slovenly by comparison with Ellis. “There you go,” she says and stands in the doorway. Ideally, I need her to leave, but she seems resolute in remaining where she is, watching me.
“I wonder where he’ll have put it?” I say absently, looking around the room, opening drawers and cupboards.
“If you told me what you were looking for…” she suggests.
“I’m afraid I can’t do that,” I reiterate.
I want to carry out a thorough – if not strictly legal – search of his bedroom, but I can’t with his mother standing there. I suppose this was always a risk in doing things unofficially, but I didn’t want to alert anyone else to my suspicions yet. I’d really like to rip his room to pieces, take out all the drawers and turn them out over the floor, even rip up the floorboards if necessary, but I can’t do that, and have to satisfy myself with combing through his clothing, underwear and books in a vain search.
I open the drawer of his bedside table and find a diary, flicking through it quickly to find it contains nothing of any value. “Here we are,” I say with mock triumph.
“That?” She can’t disguise her surprise.
“Yes.” I wave it at her. I’m crushed that I haven’t been able to find what I was looking for, but I can’t leave empty handed.
She shrugs her shoulders and leads me back out onto the landing, switching off the light and closing the door behind her. We pass another door and I hear a slight groaning noise coming from the other side.
“That’s my husband,” Mrs Ellis explains, her hand resting on the door handle, although she doesn’t go in. “He’s an invalid. He had a stroke a few years ago, but I’m sure he’s got worse since George’s death.”
“George?” I ask, feeling a spark of hope flare inside me. That was the name the RAF officer gave to Ursula Franklin and her friends. He used his brother’s name?
“Yes,” she replies. “He was our younger son. He was killed in a car accident in the summer.”
I can hear the sadness in her voice. “I’m very sorry to hear that.”
She manages a slight smile. “He’d just got his wings,” she says and that spark of hope becomes a flame. He not only used his brother’s name, but his uniform as well…
“He was in the RAF?” I ask, pretending an interest in the boy.
“Yes.” She removes her hand from the door handle and comes closer to me. “Would you like to see his uniform?”
“You’ve got it here?”
She nods. “Yes. He wasn’t wearing it when he died, and no-one’s asked for it back, so I’ve kept it, just how it was on that night…”
“Well… I’d love to see it,” I reply.
She smiles a little more broadly and goes further along the landing opening another door. “You can’t turn the light on,” she warns. “I didn’t bother to do the blackout in here. There didn’t seem any point… not after George…” She goes over to the bed and lifts up the uniform, holding it out to me.
I take it from her, feeling the weight of the last couple of weeks being lifted from my shoulders as I hold it in my arms.
“He was a very brave young man,” she’s saying and I struggle to pay attention. “He joined the RAF at the beginning of the summer, because he wanted to be flying when the war started, not still be training when the country needed its pilots.” She smiles and nods her head at the same time. “That’s typical of my George,” she says. “Always thinking about others, he was.”
“And Kenneth?” I ask.
“What about him?” I can hear the scorn in her voice as she takes back the uniform.
“Didn’t he want to join the RAF as well?”
“Yes. The two of them went together, but Kenneth was turned down, on account of his eyesight.”
I nod my head. “Oh. I see.”
“Not that he’d have been any good at it,” she continues. “Kenneth was never any good at anything.”
I want to tell her that, for a brief while, her Kenneth has been a fairly accomplished murderer, but I decide I probably don’t have time for the histrionics that will follow such a revelation, and take my leave.
Roughly ten minutes later, I park my car outside The Plough and take a deep breath.
I may not have come away with the physical evidence, but that’s probably a good thing. I know where to get it, and we can make an official search of the house subsequent to arresting Ellis on five counts of rape and murder.
I climb from the car, and go inside. Thompson catches my eye straight away and I give him a single nod of my head, making my way towards him and Ellis at the bar.
Ellis turns as I arrive and looks up at me. “It’s our turn for inspection then, is it?”
“Something like that.” I’m desperate not to make a scene in the pub, which is quite busy for a Sunday evening. “Would you mind stepping outside with me for a minute?” I ask him.
He stares at me for a moment, then sighs and nods his head. I wonder, just for a second, if he knows what’s coming.
Thompson leads the way, so that Ellis can’t make a run for it, and when we get outside, they both turn to face me.
“Kenneth Raymond Ellis,” I say, placing my hand on his shoulder, “I am arresting you on suspicion of the rape and murder of Ursula Franklin, Beth Templeton, Gloria Middlemas…” My voice fades as Ellis starts to giggle and, as I continue to read him his rights, the sound of his cackling laughter echoes off the walls of the surrounding buildings and into the dark night sky.
Chapter Twenty
I can’t believe Stone caught up with me so quickly. I really thought I had more time. Looks like he’s not as stupid as I thought he was.
It’s funny, but in a way, I’m relieved it’s over.
And with hindsight, I don’t think escaping to somewhere like Birmingham or Manchester would have worked. I don’t know those areas at all, so I’d have been bound to come a cropper somehow. The only reason it worked so well round here was because I know this place like the back of my hand. In a strange city, I’d have been lost. And that’s never a good place to start when you’re trying to commit murder.
When Stone and Thompson walked me into the station, my hands cuffed behind my back, all the officers, the men I’ve worked with for years, looked at me like they wanted to kill me, or at the very least, castrate me. A couple of them called me names, and said that ‘hanging’s too good’ for the likes of me. That made me laugh. Do they honestly think I’m going to let them hang me?
All I’ve got to do is convince them I’m insane – and given what I’ve done, that shouldn’t be too hard – and I’ll be found unfit for trial. They’ll lock me up somewhere nice and quiet to see out my days. They’ll give me three square meals a day, and it’s bound to be better food than anything my mother ever gave me. It’ll be quieter too, with no-one to nag me, or moan about how untidy I look. I’ll have my memories too. And, oh, what memories they are.
Yes, all in all, things could be a lot worse…
*****
I wanted to go straight down to fetch Amelie, the moment Ellis was safely locked up, and when I first called her on Monday to tell her that we’d arrested him, I did say I’d be there before the end of the week, but Ellis has proved to be a difficult candidate, and it took nearly twenty-four hours before we could get him calm enough that I could even begin interviewing him. Once I did get him sat down, he alternated between stony silence and crazed ranting, so the interviews themselves were haphazard, to say the least. Still, in between sounding off about everything, from his mother’s inability to boil cabbage, to the manners of young women, he actually did confess to all five murders. He did
so rather inadvertently, boasting about each one in turn, and how they all deserved what he did to them – how he was teaching them a lesson for some perceived wrong, not necessarily their own, but something he held against society, or women in general. He delighted in giving us lurid details, about how it felt to take their virginity, the noises they made while he assaulted them, the fear written all over their faces, the sensation of power when he ejaculated inside them, and the feeling of triumph when he saw the life drain from their eyes. His language was graphic and coarse, and sometimes hard to hear. It all helped to build the case against him, of course, but it made me feel physically sick. Thompson sat in on each interview with me, taking notes, and by the time we’re finally finished with Ellis on Friday lunchtime, we’ve polished off the entire bottle of whisky, that I first opened on Sunday evening, sitting together in my office after each session.
I’m hoping I can get away early and take a train down to Taunton. I need to see Amelie’s beautiful, calming face again.
“The Chief Constable’s here,” Tooley announces, coming into the main CID office, where I’m helping Thompson file all the paperwork relating to the case.
“Here?” I glance around behind him.
“Well, he’s in the Chief Super’s office,” he replies. “And he’s asked to see you.”
I look over at Thompson. “Can I leave you with this?” I nod towards the files.
“I suppose so,” he says with feigned reluctance and a smile on his face. “You can buy me a drink later.”
I roll my eyes and make my way up the stairs. The Chief Superintendent’s secretary looks up as I enter her room.
“You can go straight in,” she says, giving me a very slight smile.
“Thank you.”
I turn to face the door, straighten my jacket and knock twice.
“Come in.” I hear the familiar voice on the other side and push the door open.
Uncle Frank is sitting at the Chief Super’s desk, and the man himself is nowhere to be seen.
“Hello, sir.” I close the door behind me and walk over to stand in front of him.
He looks up at me. “Take a seat, Rufus,” he says. “And you can drop the ‘sir’, for now.” He smiles at me genially.
I sit down, relaxing a little more. I’m obviously not in trouble, although why I thought I might be, I don’t know, being as I haven’t done anything wrong.
“He’s confessed?” Uncle Frank asks.
“Oh yes,” I reply. “It took a bit of work to start with, but once he started talking, it was hard to stop him. And some of the detail…”
His look softens. “Are you alright?”
“I’m fine.”
He nods his head, although I’m not entirely sure he believes me. He knows as well as I do that you can’t listen to accounts of such evil, such groundless violence, and not be affected, or in my case, feel as though I should have done more to catch him sooner, and save at least some of those women from such a terrifying death. “I wanted to see you, Rufus, because… well, because I need to ask a favour of you. It’s a big one, but I need you to listen to what I have to say before you make a decision, or just dismiss me out of hand.”
“Okay.” I’m intrigued and I lean forward slightly.
He takes a breath, focusing on me with a friendly gaze. “Firstly, I need to discuss Chief Superintendent Meredith. You and I know perfectly well that I have grounds to dismiss him, and if you really want me to, I will. But I’m trying to bear in mind that the man’s given nearly thirty years to the service, and…”
I hold up my hand. “I don’t want him to be dismissed,” I say firmly. “I never wanted that. I just didn’t want him to get away with what he’d done. That’s all. It sets an unpleasant precedent.”
He nods. “I agree. I was fairly confident that you’d say that, so I’ve suggested he takes early retirement. He’s accepted that, and we’ve decided it’s best if he leaves immediately.” He pauses. “I know you could have made things harder on him, if you’d wanted to – or at least you could have insisted that I did,” he says. “So thank you for being sensible.”
“Is that what you wanted to ask me about?”
“No,” he replies. “That’s just the beginning.” I sit back, being as there’s obviously more to come. “Meredith’s departure leaves a vacancy at the top here, and I’ve arranged for a Chief Superintendent to be transferred from Guildford. His name’s Webster and he’ll be here at the beginning of December.”
“What’ll happen in between times?” It’s only the first week in November. That means the station will be rudderless for just over three weeks.
“I’ll have to cover the position myself,” he says. “There’s a war on, so we all have to pull together. It’s unfortunate, but this station has lost a lot of its senior men already, as reservists, and at the moment, what’s needed most here is stability.” He hesitates for a moment. “And that brings me onto the main point of this conversation.”
“It does?”
“Yes. Inspector Styles came to see me this morning.”
“Oh?” I haven’t seen much of him over the last few days, but then I haven’t seen much of anyone, other than Thompson and Ellis.
“He’s been to see his doctor – at your suggestion, I understand. He’s also had some tests done, and they’ve discovered he’s got a heart condition. In the circumstances, he’s decided to retire.” He looks up at me.
“So he’s leaving?”
Uncle Frank nods his head. “He’s agreed to hang on until I can find a replacement,” he replies. “And… and that’s where you come in.”
“I do?”
“Yes.” He sighs. “Surely you must see that the situation with Ellis is going to have a really bad effect on the station as a whole, and on the CID men in particular. To discover that one of their own was doing that is going to affect morale. They all feel responsible – whether as individuals or collectively – for failing to see what he was doing, and they’re going to need a strong leader to pull them back up again.”
“And you think that’s me, do you? Not you, or this new Chief Super from Guildford?”
“Yes, I do. You know just as well as I do that the men look on anyone above the rank of Inspector with an element of suspicion. It’s going to take one of their own to bring them round again, and they can relate to you. Let’s face it, you were practically born here. Look… I know you’re ambitious, Rufus, and I know you want to go further in the force, and that moving back here could hamper that, but I think you could do some good… especially at the moment. Getting this right could be the difference between losing good men, or keeping them and building them into better coppers. Dammit, I need you,” he says with feeling.
I smile. “I suppose it’s just as well I was going to ask for a transfer then, isn’t it?”
His mouth drops open. “Y—You were?”
I nod my head, my smile widening. “Yes. Not for the same reasons… I’ve been shut in an interview room for the last five days. I didn’t realise morale was so low.”
“Well, it is.” He leans back in his chair. “Am I allowed to know your reasons for wanting to move back?”
“Let’s just say I have personal commitments that mean I need to live here now.”
“And that’s all you’re going to tell me?”
“For the time being, yes.”
“I see,” he murmurs. “Well, I’ll just have to telephone your mother. Maybe she’ll tell me.”
“She probably will. But remember, you can’t believe everything she says.” He laughs, obviously relieved by this turn of events. “And before you start celebrating my imminent return, I’m not sure how Chief Superintendent Dale is going to react to me asking for a transfer,” I point out. “I was already thinking that he might object, being as he’s turned down all of my requests to enlist on the basis that he hasn’t got enough inspectors. If I ask…”
“You leave Dale to me,” he interrupts. “I’ll speak to him… ge
t your transfer expedited.”
“Expedited?”
“Yes. I need you down here as soon as possible.” He looks up at me. “It’ll be good to have you back.” I can’t help the grin from forming on my face. “And I am going to find out what’s behind this,” he adds. “You’re not the only detective in the family, you know.”
“Oh… we’re family now, are we?”
He stares into my eyes, his face suddenly serious. “Your father was like a brother to me, Rufus, so I think you’ll find we always were.”
By the time I was finished with Uncle Frank and had tidied my desk, it was too late to set off for Somerset, so I took Harry out for that drink. We didn’t stop for long – just long enough for me to tell him that I’ll be moving back to Kingston, which means that he and I are going to working together permanently, and to thank him for his help with the case. He seemed very happy about the first piece of news, and dismissed my gratitude, telling me it had been a team effort. We parted quite early. He wanted to get back to his family, and I felt like spending a quiet evening with Aunt Dotty. She was pleased to see me, and I think she sensed my relief that the case is finally wrapped up.
I spent this morning packing up my things, because I’m bringing Amelie back tomorrow night, but then I’ll have to leave for London very early on Monday morning, so I’d rather have everything ready. Then I had coffee with Aunt Dotty and we talked about the future. I discussed my plans with her and she was thrilled at the thought of me moving back. I think she’s even more thrilled at the real reason, but she managed to rein in her enthusiasm – just.
I feel almost as though I’m going on holiday – despite the fact that I’m only staying overnight in Somerset. I suppose it’s the euphoria I feel at getting away from the job, albeit very briefly, and also the prospect of actually seeing Amelie again after a whole week apart. Whatever it is, I’m very excited, even though I’m now having to brave Aunt Issa’s driving in a light drizzle, which makes it even more scary than usual.
