The DCI Yorke Series Boxset

by Wes Markin

  That would be enough to get him home to his father.

  Yorke looked at the floor as Topham briefed the crowd on WindScapes.

  It was the only thing he could do to stop himself exploding. Topham had waited over four hours to tell Yorke about what he’d found out. Granted, there would have been nothing he could have done in the middle of the night and, yes, Topham was looking after Yorke’s best interests, but he still felt it was time wasted, and he still felt somewhat betrayed.

  ‘Sir, you’ll thank me later today, when—’

  ‘I will never thank you for not following orders, Detective Inspector Topham.’

  Topham had looked away at this point, clearly biting his lip.

  ‘It’s not professional.’

  ‘Friendship trumps professionalism.’

  Fortunately, the argument had been cut short when Wendy came to inform them that Gardner would be missing from briefing. ‘She went to the hospital last night with Annabelle.’

  Yorke had rounded on Wendy with wide eyes. ‘What?’

  ‘She said that you’d respond like this. She told me to reassure you that she is fine. She has a dose of croup.’

  ‘What’s that?’

  ‘Croup – an infection in the throat that gives you a barking cough. Sounds scarier than it is. Nothing a dose of steroids couldn’t cure.’

  Before the briefing began, he had looked around the multitude of faces; some eager, some tired. There was no Jake. Unusual for him, he had thought, he’s usually first through the door.

  Yorke had started the briefing by describing, in detail, the murder of Billy Shine. A new incident team and room would have to be set up to manage this one. Despite being pissed off at Topham, he would be putting him in charge of that incident room. The team assigned to that case, which Yorke would provide details of at the end of this briefing, would have to work closely with Brighton police, because the murder of Loretta Marks was obviously linked, and Lacey Ray was wanted by them also. The problem would be finding Lacey. Always a nightmare.

  Then, he moved through the incident with Gillian Arnold the night before. Everyone in the room expressed relief over her escape either by taking a deep breath at the end of the story, or smiling. There were also several satisfied nods when Yorke announced that the sketch of the man who called himself Tezcacoatl, which they all had a copy of, was now in the press. It would be in the papers, and on the news. As Yorke talked them through the Aztec angle – Tezcacoatl’s claim that they were all slaves to the deity, Tezcatlipoca, and that Gillian would have achieved a flowery death if he’d seen the plan through, he felt vindicated. The previous day when he had been discussing this link, there had been sceptical looks. Today, there weren’t.

  That was when Topham had started to inform everybody about WindScapes.

  Yorke watched Gary Utter out of the corner of his eye feverishly taking notes. It was highly irregular to have him in the incident room, but he wanted the expert’s thoughts as soon as the meeting finished, not half-an-hour later after he was forced to go through everything again with him. He could also chip in when it was necessary.

  Via the projector, Topham was displaying the homepage of the Wiltshire pagan site while relaying Tezcacoatl’s desire to bring back the Aztec religion under the jazzy title – The Second Age.

  When Topham said that Tezcacoatl wanted to become the Tlatoani – the ruler of the Second Age – Yorke noticed Utter shaking his head and raising his eyebrows.

  Yorke jumped in at this point, more to make the point that he was in charge of the investigation. ‘Unfortunately, as predicted, the IP address is a no go. Tezcacoatl wasn’t stupid enough to wire himself straight into the forum. Apart from Billy Shine, there were two other people he was in touch with. One is deceased. Lucas Hazard, lung cancer, but DC Simmonds, I would still appreciate interviews with the next-of-kin. The other individual he was in contact with was Ethan Rowe, a chap of eighty years of age. He is bed-ridden, but according to his carer, is still active online. DC Ross, if you could take that interview?’

  ‘We have this correspondence between Billy Shine and Tezcacoatl, but it is very vague in content. There is certainly no mention of the blue-ringed octopus, and Billy’s own role in all of this. They were obviously canny enough to continue their dialogue either by email, or offline in some form. Still, myself and Mr Utter will trawl through the information we do have, together, after this meeting.’

  It was at that point that Jake burst into the incident room.

  Yorke was about to pass the remark, ‘Better late than never,’ when he noticed how pale and visibly shaken his friend and colleague looked. Instead, he chose to say, ‘Are you okay DS Pettman?’

  ‘Not really. Can I speak to you outside, please?’

  Outside, Jake told Yorke what had happened. Mechanic Lawrence Higgins had freed him from his handcuffs less than thirty minutes ago with some heavy-duty tools.

  ‘You fucking idiot,’ Yorke rose his voice. Topham’s behaviour had now dwindled into insignificance compared to Jake’s.

  ‘What choice did I have?’ Jake said.

  Yorke shook his head. ‘You’re worse than Mark. With your goddamn justifications.’

  ‘What’s Mark done?’

  ‘Irrelevant now. What’s relevant is that you could have got yourself killed.’

  Jake nodded. ‘I know. But, it worked, and I got it.’

  ‘And, if it hadn’t have worked, and you hadn’t have got this evidence, do you think anyone here would give a shit about a USB stick if you were dead? Would Sheila give a shit? Would Frank give a shit?’

  ‘I know, Mike … sir … I made a judgement call. She’s so persuasive; she made me feel like I had no choice.’

  Yorke rubbed his head. ‘Not to mention the fact that the evidence is ridiculously tainted. Are you looking forward to standing up in court and explaining how you came by it?’

  ‘I know—’

  ‘And let’s not forget that a murderer made contact with you and it wasn’t immediately reported. And that if you had, we may have actually caught this psychotic woman.’

  ‘Alright, sir. I know, I’m done.’

  ‘You’re not fucking done, Jake. You’re just a big fucking oaf.’

  ‘So what now, then?’

  ‘Well, we listen to what’s on that USB stick, of course.’

  Yorke spoke to Topham and asked him to set up the Billy Shine incident room and hand out the day’s assignments. Then, he went into an office with Jake.

  They plugged the USB into the computer and opened the sound file.

  Lacey spoke first. ‘So, first, you admit what you’ve done. Now, I’m assuming you got angry because you’re impotent?’

  Yorke could hear Billy writhing in the chair. From the corner of his eye, he saw Jake flinch; it was only several hours since he’d been in a similar predicament.

  Lacey spoke again, ‘So the impotency?’

  ‘Yes, the bitch laughed at me!’

  ‘Aha, now we’re getting somewhere. And what happened when she laughed? The jade ashtray?’

  ‘God, it hurts so much! You cut my fucking finger off!’

  Jake reached over to pause the conversation. ‘I meant to say, his finger is in that bag too.’

  Yorke widened his eyes. ‘Is it? Good to know.’

  Jake resumed the recording.

  ‘Get to the point or it may not be the only one I take,’ Lacey said.

  ‘I saw red when she said it. Probably the drugs, you know. She was always taking the piss. You all were. So, I hit her with an ashtray.’

  ‘Hit? That is what I just did to you. You, Billy, you didn’t hit her. You caved her face in.’

  There was a moment of silence. Lacey had been happy to let Billy reflect at this point.

  ‘You know, that really wasn’t me.’

  ‘Who was it then?’

  ‘Well … yes, it was me, but it was unlike me. I’ve never harmed anyone like that before. You know me, I was always nice to you,
gentle …’

  ‘Whatever. You’ve now told me what you’ve done. You do not seem repentant in any way, but that is irrelevant, as judgement can come now. I promised it quickly. And it will be quick, but first, I need to know what it has all been for? Why dress up? Why three prostitutes? I’m not complaining mind, it paid well, but why have you ruined your shitty little life?’

  ‘God, my finger …’

  ‘Is gone. Why have you ruined your shitty little life?’

  ‘I’ve not ruined it. Tezcacoatl has ruined it.’

  There was a pause while Lacey clearly digested this peculiar name. ‘Who?’

  ‘Tezcacoatl.’

  ‘I got that – I meant who is he?’

  ‘Someone I met online?’

  ‘Online? Tinder? You were dating someone with that name?’

  ‘No. I’m not gay. Did I not prove that to you enough times?’

  ‘You didn’t prove a great deal to me Billy, to be honest, but that is a whole separate conversation. So how did you meet him online?’

  There was a long pause. Yorke was sure he could hear some clicking; he looked at Jake. Jake mouthed, ‘Secateurs.’

  ‘Okay,’ Billy said. ‘Look, when I was younger I used to be into different kinds of shit.’

  ‘Different kinds of shit?’

  ‘The devil, Satan, that kind of thing.’

  Lacey laughed. ‘You were a fucking devil worshipper?’

  ‘Are you always such a fucking bitch?’

  She laughed again. ‘This is fantastic. You worship Satan and I’ve got you tied to a chair with your fucking finger in my pocket. Is He coming to help?’

  ‘Fuck off. I don’t worship Satan anymore. I worship Tezcatlipoca.’

  ‘This gets better! So, so glad I’m recording this.’

  ‘A friend of mine told me about a forum. WindScapes. For pagans. That’s where I met Tezcacoatl.’

  ‘Who got you into worshipping someone with a name as funny as his?’

  Billy did not reply.

  ‘So, what did he make you do?’

  ‘He didn’t make me do anything, I did it myself. He claims to be directly in touch with Tezcatlipoca, which is kind of cool. So, I did him a few favours.’

  ‘Like what?’

  He sighed.

  ‘Like what?’

  ‘I got him a blue-ringed octopus. Also, some surgical equipment. He paid a lot.’

  ‘Rich is he?’

  ‘I guess so.’

  ‘Where did you meet him?’

  ‘We’ve only met three times. Near where I live.’

  ‘What did he want a blue-ringed octopus for?’

  ‘He said it was necessary to bring back some of the old ways. They’re very poisonous. I think he was going to use it for sacrifices.’

  ‘But I thought you were kind and gentle, Billy?’

  ‘You don’t understand. He warned me that no one would understand. It’s not murder. The gods sacrificed themselves for us.’

  ‘Wow – fancy that?’

  ‘The Aztecs built a glorious empire. Their beliefs gave them meaning, and their world meaning. I wanted to be part of the Second Age. Life had always seemed so empty—’

  ‘Ever heard of indoctrination, fuckwit? So, Loretta. Sweet Loretta. I was kind of fond of her in my own way. Was she a sacrifice?’

  ‘No. She wasn’t supposed to be. Look, I think I’m bleeding to death, from my finger. I’m feeling dizzy.’

  ‘Bleeding to death, eh? Sounds like a good idea.’

  Yorke winced, recalling the first time he’d set eyes on Billy, sitting in a pool of his own blood with his femoral artery severed.

  ‘What’s with your alter ego as a transvestite anyway?’ Lacey said.

  Jake paused it again and leaned over into the rucksack at his feet. He pulled out jewellery and a headdress.

  ‘What the …?’ Yorke said, really wondering now how weird this whole situation could get.

  Jake hit play.

  ‘I’m an Ixiptlactli, an impersonator. I’m impersonating Tezcatlipoca, the deity that Tezcacoatl is in contact with. I get to impersonate him for the whole year. A whole year of unbelievable pleasure.’

  ‘Prostitutes and drugs?’

  ‘Among other things.’

  ‘That’s why we were contracted to yours for a whole year then, and Tezcacoatl was paying for this?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘And that’s why you made us sit around and watch you wearing this shit and attempting to play the flute?’

  ‘You weren’t watching, you were worshipping.’

  Lacey laughed again. ‘I really wasn’t aware that was happening.’

  ‘Tezcacoatl also promised that we would all marry in March.’

  ‘Billy, did you go to school? Do you not remember the lesson on not speaking to strange men?’

  ‘You don’t understand, but you would have done, by the end.’

  ‘When Tezcacoatl came and sacrificed us all?’

  ‘Yes. The flowery death. It would have been glorious.’

  ‘Okay, so I have knowledge now. I know. Almost wished I didn’t. So, it is time for judgement. I—’

  ‘No, I am not ready.’

  ‘Yes, I get that, but I’m getting bored now; if you want to keep me from entertaining myself, give me something more interesting.’

  ‘Like what?’

  ‘That’s not my problem.’

  ‘Wait … when I took him his octopus, he brought his mother.’

  ‘Say that again?’

  ‘His mother.’

  ‘Bullshit.’

  ‘No, he did. He also told me that she was proud of him and what he was achieving.’

  ‘This is getting too twisted even by my standards.’

  Yorke paused it. ‘The person Gillian saw stamping in the back of the bastard’s van, was that his mother?’

  Jake looked at him to say something. Even opened his mouth to speak. But no words emerged.

  Yorke played it.

  ‘Do you know what, Billy, if I had time, I would really like to catch up with this Tez … what’s his name?’

  ‘Tezcacoatl.’

  ‘Yes, and I would love to chat to him about his flowery death, even offer him my own version of that.’

  ‘What’s that in your hands?’

  ‘It’s a scalpel. You should know! Haven’t you been acquiring surgical equipment?’

  ‘Yes, but why—’

  There was a hiss; it was Billy sucking in air. ‘What have you done?’

  ‘Judgement. Severed your femoral artery. Made it quick as I promised.’

  ‘There’s blood … everywhere.’

  ‘Relax, Billy. In my blue room, a place of judgement and knowledge, we also need to attain harmony.’

  ‘Shit, I feel cold!’

  ‘Harmony, Billy, welcome it, feel it. I crave it, you should too.’

  ‘I can’t see properly … please … I never …’

  ‘Shhhh,’ Lacey said. ‘Let me turn this recording off now, and let us relax together, just for a moment longer.’

  The recording ended and Yorke and Jake sat in silence for almost a minute; then, Jake pulled out the laptop from Billy’s backpack.

  10

  THE CLUNKING OF a radiator pipe woke Rachel Lister.

  At first, she tried to reach out to pat Brandon to wake him for work too, but she was unable to move her arms; and, when she opened her eyes, she realised that she was lying in complete darkness.

  But she couldn’t sit up because her wrists were above her head and strapped to the radiator pipe which had woken her.

  She started to scream, but her cry brought nothing but breathlessness and tears which streamed down her face. She waited, desperately hoping that her eyes would adjust to the dark. They weren’t doing so.

  No windows? No friendly squeeze of light under the door of this room?

  The dark continued. The clunking of the radiator continued. Her tears continued.

  Tezc
acoatl could hear Rachel’s screams from the cellar. His house was semi-detached, so he knew that it would be heard next door. Fortunately, Brandon was out at the moment; Rachel had told him that. However, he would have to shut her up before he arrived home.

  He stared at his image, or at least a likeness of him, on the television screen. Gillian Arnold’s escape could now expose him. But he had no choice, he must continue; he was too close to stop now.

  He channel-hopped to a soap opera and paused to watch the macehualtin – the commoners – engage in some frivolous behaviours. Then, he turned to a channel on which a young Asian boy was being pulled from the rubble of an earthquake. Seeing this image reminded him of the rain which fell on the small African village during the night he offered Jessica Brookes. He knew of this because he kept careful track of the world and its changing weather patterns on the internet.

  Nourishing the deities did nourish the earth.

  His eyes found the television screen again. The camera had settled onto a limp Asian hand; this reminded him of the hoot of the owl that morning.

  He paused for a moment, wondering if the unsatisfied deity, Huitzilopochtli, would accept his nourishment today? After all, the girl below, Rachel, was also a slave to sadness – just like Gillian had been. She was beholden to a man who treated her like dirt.

  Yes, it was unconventional, but when he checked his watch, he realised he still had time before work. He also had all his equipment ready from the previous night. Down there, on the cold stone floor, he could do what needed to be done and leave the mess for later when he returned from work.

  He turned the television off. He would consult Tezcatlipoca, the Lord of the Smoking Mirror, and let him command.

  Rachel worked hard against the strap. It hurt, but she’d seen a movie once, in which someone made their wrists bleed, and then slipped free.

  How she craved light and how desperately she craved Brandon. Her partner for five long years. Usually protective and warm. Last night a mere blip on their long union.

  He didn’t mean it. He couldn’t have meant it. He doesn’t have it in him to hurt me.

  The evidence – her bruised face – was to the contrary. Still, it was a blip. She would forgive him and they would reunite and the strange man next door, with the monstrous ears, who had locked her in his basement for looking at his sea-creature, would be nothing but a memory.