The Handshaker (38 page)

“No.” Shannon slammed his flat palms on the desk. “I run this department, not Felix fucking Croft, and not you. Now either tell me where he is or hand your warrant card in.”

Millie stood up, took the card from her bag and for a time she stared at it, her mind automatically retracing the steps she had taken to secure it, her probationary period, days and nights on the beat, on routine patrols, her introduction to CID, months, years of legwork as a detective constable, detective sergeant, her time with the I.T. and fraud squads, undercover work on vice and her delight at the promotion to inspector. A long, hard fought battle, coming to such an ignominious end.

She tossed the card on the desk. “I’m warning you, when I come to the disciplinary, I’ll be telling them
exactly
how you mishandled this inquiry, and if Trish Sinclair dies as a result of that stupidity, then I’ll help Croft lay the blame at your door.”

“Millie…”

She turned and marched out on him.

“Millie…”

52

“Before I left the station, I checked on the overnight reports to bring myself completely up to date.”

Croft said nothing. He waited for Millie to complete her announcement.

“Forensic are certain,” she went on, “that the semen in Joyce Dunn’s vagina, and on her bed, and the semen found in Victoria Reid’s vagina and on her legs was the same as that found on
all
the other bodies. Obviously, it’s not yours but we can’t figure out why he didn’t jerk off over her legs like he did with all the other victims. We wonder if he was disturbed, or he may have seen the dickhead who rang us with the report of Joyce’s death.”

Croft shook his head. “There was no one else. The Handshaker rang you.”

“What? No, but, why…” Millie trailed off, confused.

Over the past two days, Croft had had little to do but think on events, and he was quite clear about it. “Hanging Joyce served no purpose other than to draw suspicion onto me. Consider this. If he had done as he normally did, he would have masturbated over her legs as she died and you would have cleared me in an instant because my DNA does not match his. But he didn’t. Instead, he had her, left a vaginal sample, which would take a couple of days for the analysis. The lack of semen on her legs told you that this was someone different to The Handshaker, but of course, it wasn’t. He still had to pull it off as she died, but this time, because he wanted to incriminate me, he couldn’t do it over her legs, so he let go on the bed. I told you before, he wanted me arrested but not charged. He left sufficient evidence to incriminate me, but not enough to convict me. He also left Joyce hanging and left the curtains open, but he could have waited days for some passer-by to get suspicious and he didn’t want to wait for days, so he rang you himself, pretending to be a voyeur, and told you where to find her.” Croft laughed. “The Handshaker has been leading you round like a bull with a ring through its nose, and your boss fell for it.”

Millie tutted. “Ernest, dumb arse, Shannon. He had no business bringing you in for questioning.”

“And yet he suspended you for refusing to divulge my location.”

She nodded and Croft grimaced.

“You should have told him earlier,” he said. She opened her mouth to protest, but he stopped her before she could say anything. “Millie, I’m a big boy. I can look after myself. You should not have jeopardised your career for my sake.”

“As you said yesterday, he would have held you all weekend, but I can see that you need to be free. If we’re to smoke The Handshaker out, only you can do it.”

Croft was suddenly more concerned for Millie. He took her hand. “What will you get?”

She shrugged. “Slap on the wrist. It may hold back my next promotion. Felix, honest, it’s no sweat. I can plead concern for Trish Sinclair’s safety,
as long as
we can get to her … or him.”

Silence fell over the gardener’s hut, each lost to their own thoughts, both staring through the single window at rain lashing the landscape. Millie withdrew her hand from his.

“I suppose they thought of ringing Trish’s mobile?” asked Croft. “See whether it had been switched on.”

“We’re monitoring it on GPS, the same as we did with yours, but there’s no chance unless and until it’s switched on, and it’s been dead for days.”

“Clutching at straws,” Croft admitted. “It would probably only lead you back to her car or a dustbin somewhere. The Handshaker’s not stupid and as his Internet posts confirm, he’s not as technologically backward as he likes us to think.”

Millie was puzzled. “Felix, anyone can use the Internet. You don’t have to be a techno genius.”

Croft waved vaguely at the computer screen and The Handshaker message board. “Every line of his post begins with a capital letter, mine doesn’t. He produced that on professional word processing software, copied and pasted it into the message board. Probably the copy that he also printed to leave in Trish’s car. Most modern word processing packages will automatically capitalise the first letter of each new paragraph. He didn’t bother when he used the typewriter, even when he spelled everything correctly. If he’s clued up enough to use word processing software, then we can assume that he knows where he’s up to with technology in general, and he’ll be aware of GPS tracking systems on modern mobile phones.”

“Meaning?”

“Well, it’s obvious, isn’t it?” Croft suggested. “He won’t keep or use the phone because he knows it can lead you to him, and if he didn’t leave it in her car, then he’ll have thrown it away.”

Silence fell once more.

“There is one thing I may be able to help with,” Croft said suddenly. “It occurred to me the other night when I was wandering round Winridge Estate. The car he uses. A silver grey Ford Fiesta. Quite old. You’ve never found it.”

“It’s a ringer,” she declared. “False plates, different plates. There are those bods in the motor spares game who will still produce a plate without a registration doc and without proof of ownership or ID. Anyway, what of it?”

“Why haven’t you found it?” Croft went on to answer his own question. “Because he keeps it well hidden. Despite what we all think, it’s not that easy to hide a car, but there are some old garages on Avon Way. I think I read somewhere that they’re scheduled for demolition.”

Millie shook her head. “Too public. They’re within sight of the parade of shops opposite the Winridge Inn and we’re always getting complaints of teenagers breaking into them or hanging round them… ” she trailed off, the light of realisation dawning in her soft, brown eyes, “but we never get complaints about those on…”

She never completed her sentence. The door burst open and Thurrock hurtled in, his features livid. Determined to get to Croft, he shouldered Millie out of the way and rushed the psychologist.

Croft caught his wrist, turned him, twisted the arm sharply up Thurrock’s back and pinned him across the bench. The young detective struggled pointlessly.

“Try to move,” Croft warned him, “and you’ll break your arm. I told you, Thurrock, you could take a swing at me only if you arranged for seat for me at the front of the bus on your next outing. You didn’t keep your half of the deal.”

“You are under arrest,” gasped Thurrock.

“On what charge?”

Thurrock gritted his teeth through the pain. “Resisting arrest and assaulting a police officer.”

Croft was not impressed. “You don’t get past the son of a High Court Judge so easily. You did not identify yourself as a police officer and you did not declare your intention to arrest me, therefore, you assaulted me and legally I am simply defending myself.”

He applied more pressure to Thurrock’s arm and the Detective Constable gasped. “I don’t … don’t mean now. I mean the other day.”

“I’m going to let you go now,” said Croft, “because I think your Detective Inspector may want a word. But I’m warning you, Thurrock, make one move that I don’t like and I’ll put you on sick for a few weeks.”

“That won’t be necessary.”

The new voice brought a grin to Croft’s features. He released Thurrock and gave Shannon a friendly wave. “Morning, Superintendent.”

Shannon entered the hut. “Felix Croft, I am arresting you for resisting arrest and assaulting a police officer. I must caution you –”

“NO!”

Shannon’s ears coloured red at Millie’s shouted interruption. “Inspector Matthews, must I remind you that you are currently under suspension and as such –”

“SHUT UP,” roared Millie, cutting him off for the second time. “Just shut your fucking trap, and for once in your life listen to someone else. This man,” she gestured at Croft, “is innocent of everything other than the charges that you dreamed up and if you take him in, it’s likely to cost you not only next year’s budget, but your job and your pension.”

Shannon could only stare in open-mouthed astonishment. Even Thurrock was shocked.

“She’s right,” said Croft. “Up to press, Shannon, you have arrested me on the thinnest of evidence and made me public enemy number one, which we all know not to be true. You may have compromised my reputation and as a distinguished author, university lecturer and researcher, my reputation is my livelihood. Over and above that, and far more important, arresting me again is likely to put Trish Sinclair’s life in jeopardy.” Croft allowed Shannon some moments to let the message sink in. “Now, if we’re all willing to be reasonable, I’m sure we can come to some arrangement which will satisfy everyone.”

Shannon still said nothing and Millie took the initiative. “Kent Road. A row of dilapidated garages. Get a team out there. The Fiesta we’ve spent so long looking for is probably hidden in one of them.”

“Why?” demanded Shannon.

“Because The Handshaker lives on Winridge Estate,” she explained, “and it’s the logical place for him to leave it.”

There was a gleam of murder in the superintendent’s eyes. He pointed a shaking finger at Croft. “You are still under arrest.” The finger moved to take in Millie. “You are still under suspension.” Now the wandering finger shifted focus and hovered on Thurrock. “Get out to my car, get on the horn and get a team to Kent Road.”

Rubbing his injured arm, glowering at Croft, Thurrock left the shed.

“I’ll come in,” Croft agreed, “but only on one condition.”

“No deals.”

“You’ll deal, Shannon,” Croft warned him, “or I’ll chain you up in here, leave Thurrock with you and take your car for my getaway.”

A moment’s silence engulfed the shed again.

Shannon did not entirely capitulate, but gave the tiniest of nods. “I’m listening.”

Croft was satisfied. “I’ll come in provided that you keep it quiet. You do not say one word to the press. I don’t want The Handshaker to know about it. At least that way we may keep Trish alive a while longer.”

53

Croft was driven back to the police station and after refusing legal representation he was interviewed by Shannon and Detective Sergeant Fletcher, and then reported for the offences.

“Whether you’ll be charged,” said Shannon, “will be up to the Chief Constable. If I had my way, I’d lock you up and chuck the key away, but in view of the pointers you’ve given us, and the fact that the Chief Constable doesn’t like adverse publicity, I’d think it unlikely.”

“And what about Millie?” asked Croft.

Shannon would not discuss it. “That’s an internal police matter, and I can’t comment on it. For now she remains suspended.”

A knock came on the door and DC Thurrock entered. “Excuse me, sir, but we’ve just had word from the team on Kent Road. They found the car.”

Shannon was grimly satisfied. “Forensic?”

“On their way, sir.”

“Right. I’ll be along in a little while.”

Thurrock ducked out and the two officers gathered their belongings, making ready to leave.

“All right, Croft,” said Shannon, “you can go, but from now on, you keep me informed of anything you may learn. Not Inspector Matthews. Me. You understand?”

Croft refused to commit. “Are you on your way out to this garage on Winridge?”

“Yes.”

“Let me come with you.”

Shannon refused. “I’m sorry, I can’t allow that.”

Croft let out a frustrated sigh. “Credit where it’s due, Shannon, you’re a persistent pain in the arse.”

“Listen, Croft,” the superintendent insisted, “we don’t know what we’ll find there. It’s one thing to send my people out, but if your girlfriend is there…” The superintendent trailed off lamely.

“And what difference does that make?” Croft demanded. “Do you think I can’t handle it? Do you imagine I could ever live with myself again if I wasn’t there? No, Shannon, I’ll come with you.”

No longer disposed to argue, Shannon walked quickly from the interview room, he and Fletcher scurrying along the polished floor, Croft right behind them, his nerves already beginning to take their toll on him.

In the rear car park, Fletcher let him into the back of the car, while Shannon climbed behind the wheel and gunned the engine.