The Handshaker (36 page)

Coming out of the university, she spent an hour in her car reading and digesting the Heidelberg account and, happy that Croft had been telling the truth, she returned to the familiar bustle of activity at the police station.

Rapping on Shannon’s door, she stepped in to find him, feet on desk, reading
The Sun.

“A word?”

Bringing his feet down, he waved at his visitor chair. “Park your B-T-M and pick your word.”

With a glance back into the CID room to ensure her subordinates were paying no particular attention, Millie shut the door and turned on Shannon. “You are fucking this job up.”

Colouring up, he went immediately on the attack. “Watch it, Matthews. You’re not above charges of insubordination, you know, and you’ve overstepped the mark more than once this week.”

She registered the use of her surname and ignored it. “You’re the one who needs to watch it, Ernie. Felix Croft is not guilty. The note this morning refers to Rehana Begum and Joyce Dunn.”

“We’d already worked that out.”

“Croft cannot have kidnapped Rehana. He didn’t have time.”

Shannon frowned. “Not that again. Where’s your proof?”

Anticipating his defeat, Millie explained, “I got a text from Croft last night. It’s what tipped me off that Rehana had been abducted in the first place. Today, I went to the BBC to check on the times they filmed outside Oaklands yesterday. They were there within fifteen or twenty minutes of Croft’s arrest. At the time they were setting up their cameras, and filming their first piece, Croft was still with Dave Thurrock, and Rehana was already gone.”

Shannon was gobsmacked. For a long moment, he said nothing. Then his face slowly changed, his mouth closed and twisted into a familiar grimace of fury. When he spoke, it was as if he had ignored most of her statement. “You had a text from Croft, and you never said anything about it?”

“Correct.”

“That is –”

“Acceptable procedure,” Millie interrupted, “when a senior officer is convinced that her immediate superior has become blind to the truth. I’m a Detective Inspector, not some jobsworth fresh out of training. I am capable and authorised to follow up leads and lines of inquiry with or without your approval.” Having reminded him of her status, she pressed home the assault. “You have allowed a simple, single, spurious lead, the pen, to pull you off track and away from the main thrust of our investigation. Croft’s explanation of his familiarity with Joyce Dunn was perfectly acceptable, and you’ve seen his room at the university. You saw it when you went there looking for him yesterday. He
is
vague and untidy. He could have lost that pen anywhere, including Sandra Lumb’s place, where The Handshaker probably found it when he was pissing about with Sandra’s mind. You had no cause to arrest Croft, let alone go on TV to declare him a felon, and you certainly had no business accusing him of taking Rehana without some form of evidence. While every officer in this town is hunting for Croft, our focus is shifted from The Handshaker as a result of which he’s taken and probably murdered that poor girl. I followed up a lead from Croft, and it turned out he was right, you were wrong. He is not a killer, he did not kidnap Rehana and neither did he kill Joyce Dunn, nor Victoria Reid.”

Stung into retaliation, Shannon snapped, “How the hell do you know?”

“Because she’s mentioned in the latest note for Christ’s sake,” shouted Millie and threw down the sheets of paper she had worked on at the university gates. “Cunny Joe D, Joyce Dunn, do vets roger, Dorset Grove, rawl tarn fez, Franz Walter, Cliff or Tex, Felix Croft, shark hen death, The Handshaker. All prepared on the same typewriter.”

“Croft’s typewriter.” Shannon insisted.

“Wrong again,” she snapped. “I visited Croft’s room at the university, and took his machine. Forensics have just run a preliminary check for me while I waited. Too early to be absolutely sure, but it’s not the same machine.”

“Yes we know he switched to a Remington but –”

Millie tore into him again. “I’m talking about the Remington, Ernie. This is not the same machine as produced the notes Croft and we received earlier this week.”

“He could have more than one.” Shannon was practically pleading as he sought further rationale.

“Fuck off.”

Shannon began the fight back. Half standing, he shouted, “Don’t tell me to fuck off. I know what I’m on about. I had people check up on this Heidelberg twaddle. I told you yesterday, it’s a figment of his twisted imagination. He’s been taking the piss with us all week.”

With a triumphant gleam in her eye, Millie threw the book on Shannon’s desk. “First translated into English in nineteen fifty-five, eighteen years before Croft was born.”

If Millie’s announcement on Croft’s innocence concerning the abduction of Rehana Begum and the typewriter had startled Shannon, the appearance of the book stunned him into silence. He looked from it to her and back again, as if both had betrayed him. He picked it up, examined the cover, then opened it. For a long moment he studied the contents page, then flipped through to the chapter detailing The Heidelberg Case. He skimmed pages, taking in a name here, a sentence there, a paragraph on this page, a description on that page. At length, with a grunt, he threw the book back down.

“You’ve proved nothing,” he snapped. “The Handshaker could have claimed Joyce Dunn’s killing from the news reports.”

“And how did he find out about Rehana Begum?” Millie let out a frustrated sigh. “I’ve all but proved that Croft is not guilty of abducting Rehana, and forensics will prove whether he was anywhere near Joyce Dunn or Victoria Reid. Both had semen on their bodies, and I’ll bet next month’s salary it’s The Handshaker’s.”

His breath coming heavily, quickly, Shannon snatched up the phone and punched in four digits. “Shannon. Preliminary reports on Joyce Dunn and Victoria Reid; do we have an analysis of the semen on both bodies?” He listened a moment and across the desk Millie could hear the muffled voice of someone in forensics talking back. “I see. Thanks.” The superintendent put the phone down. “No final analysis as yet, but it appears to be the same semen as found on other Handshaker victims.” Before Millie could gloat, he pressed on. “However, there was no semen on Joyce’s legs, whereas The Handshaker jerked off over every other victim while they hung, so there’s something fishy there. And it still doesn’t explain why Croft did a runner yesterday, nor why he hasn’t come in.”

Millie resisted the temptation to offer an explanation. Instead, she concurred, “No, it doesn’t, but there is something more important we have to get onto.”

“Such as?”

Editing out all reference to Croft, she explained her worries about Evelyn Kearns. “According to my information, she had appointments. She should have been in. I called a few times, remember, and got nothing. If The Handshaker overheard my remark via Rehana’s radio, it could mean she’s already dead.”

Shannon snatched up the phone and within seconds had dispatched two officers to Evelyn’s address. “And if you don’t get an answer, break the door down,” he concluded. “I hope you’re wrong, Millie.”

The phone buzzed again. Shannon snatched it up. He listened a moment and his face split into a broad grin. “Got the fucker.”

Millie frowned. “What? Got who?”

Shannon led the way out. “What is it, Thurrock?”

All eyes turned on the DC. “Croft.” Thurrock beamed. “He’s using his mobile. Somewhere in the grounds at UNWE.”

Shannon smiled again at his subordinate. “Whether or not he’s The Handshaker, he still has charges to answer, Millie. Take Thurrock, get out there and bring him in. I’ll stand by for news of Rehana and Evelyn Kearns.”

Puzzled and concerned, Millie nodded. “Don’t forget Trish Sinclair,” she reminded him.

They drove across town in near silence, Millie wondering how Thurrock could have got a trace on Croft when the hypnotist had told her he was using a borrowed phone.

The question was answered twenty minutes later when they arrived at the grounds. Thurrock rang the tracking centre and they guided them not to the main building but the woods off to the Western side, where Danny the gardener was raking leaves.

“Danny,” asked Millie while Thurrock spoke on the mobile to the tracking centre, “have you seen anything of Mr Croft?”

Danny shook his head. “Ain’t seen him for a coupla days. Not since before you buggers arrested him.”

Thurrock shut off his phone. “I don’t believe this. According to GPS we’re within a few metres of him.”

But Millie understood at once. “Danny, could I see your mobile phone please?”

With a shrug of disinterest, Danny reached into his overalls, retrieved the phone and handed it over. Millie removed the back and withdrew the SIM card.

“I’ll bet you that’s from Croft’s phone,” she declared. “He swapped the cards.”

Thurrock narrowed angry eyes on Danny. “I thought you said you haven’t seen him?”

“I haven’t,” yelped Danny. “Not for days.” He rounded his bulky frame on the young detective. “You start hassling me, and I’ll talk to my union. They’ve got lawyers, you know.”

Thurrock waved the gardener away and addressed Millie. “I don’t see how Croft could have swapped the cards unless this finger helped him.” He gestured at Danny as the ‘finger’ in question.

“Don’t you?” Millie’s voice was soft and assured. “I do. Come on. We’re wasting our time here.”

They walked back to the car. As they reached it, her phone rang. It was Shannon.

“You were right, Millie,” said the superintendent. “We just found Evelyn Kearns.”

“Dead?”

“Strangled,” reported Shannon. “We’re having all her equipment and records brought in. I’ll keep a crew here all night if I have to, but I’ll find this bastard.”

50

It was just after 9:30 that evening when Millie returned to the university, where she dismissed the constable Shannon had placed on the gates.

Watching him drive away, she drove into the grounds and a security officer stopped her at the main entrance. “Sorry, miss, the place is shut for the night and we’ll be locking the main gates in half an hour.”

She flashed her warrant card and he backed off. “I just need a poke around the gardener’s hut. I’ll come for you to let me out when I’m done.”

While he wandered off, muttering mutinously to himself, she ambled away from the building towards the tree line, and the wooden shed Danny used as a base. Soon, the dim illumination from the main building was lost and the going underfoot became wet and slippery. Reaching the hut, she beamed her flashlight on it. Not locked. She had not expected it to be.

Turning the doorknob, she pushed it open and stepped in, switching on the light.

The place was compact and busy. The tools of Danny’s trade hung around the walls; spades, forks, rakes, a strimmer. Wooden shutters covered the only window, and on a nearby bench stood a portable TV, alongside which was a small gas ring. A wisp of steam escaped from a kettle on the burner and when she felt the kettle it was hot to the touch. In the far corner a pile of old blankets were spread over a lumpy piece of equipment, and two uncomfortable looking armchairs were sited by the bench.

“It’s all right, Felix, you can come out. I’m alone.”

Nothing happened. Nothing moved and Millie felt a curious sense of satisfaction, as if she would have resented being proved right.

Then the blankets shifted and he appeared from under them, grinning. “Now, how the hell did you get to me?”

***

Millie found the chair quite comfortable despite its dilapidated condition. She drank a cup of freshly made tea, while Croft set up the computer and accessed the Internet via his mobile phone and Danny’s SIM card.

“Danny,” Croft explained as he opened up the BBC website, “is hypnotised. He doesn’t even know I’m here. He comes in, has his breaks here, but if anyone asks, he won’t remember seeing me. I’ve ordered him not to. It’s called a negative hallucination.” He smiled at her. “Is that how you rumbled it, Millie?”

“I recalled you saying that you had been hypnotising him for years and he was easy meat for you,” she replied. “You weren’t at home, you weren’t in your rooms here at the university, and when we got a GPS location on your phone, it led us to Danny. I drew the obvious conclusion.” She sipped her tea. “Felix, I want you to come in so we can officially clear you.”

He refused with a shake of the head. “If I do that, The Handshaker will kill Trish. Not because he’s lost out, but because he won’t know whether Shannon will release me.”

“I meant to ask this morning,” she said bringing her thoughts to bear. “The Lumbs’ place, last night. Someone broke a window, trying to get in. Was it you?”

With a humorous nod, Croft briefly explained what had happened. “I thought I might bring him into the open. I didn’t realise you’d planted a volumetric alarm in there.”

“Warding off souvenir hunters. The alarms are cheap and tacky, but they serve their purpose on an estate like Winridge.” Millie finished her tea and stood up, gathering her coat about her. “Felix, I have no option but to arrest you and if you don’t come in, I’ll call for back up and we’ll take you. I may not be able to stop you on my own, but the university is crawling with security men. You will be charged with resisting arrest and probably assaulting Dave Thurrock, but in view of the help you’ve given us, and the things we’ve learned today, I’d say both charges are likely to be dropped. Would you like to come down to the station where we’ll take a statement on the events of the last twenty four hours?”