The Operator (Bruce and Bennett Crime Thriller 2) (37 page)

‘For heaven’s sake, Erica, why can’t you learn to
keep out of police business! Apart from anything else, you could be putting
yourself in danger.’

‘Ah, so you admit the Operator might not be
Anderson! Or how could I be in danger, since he’s bedbound? Did you research
his background?’

‘Of course. We know about his son, and his wife.’

‘Yes, and he hates doctors because of all that, so
surely if he’s the Operator he’d go south and kill the doctor who made the
decision to send his son home from A&E?’

‘This may astonish you Erica, but I checked up on
that. He wouldn’t have killed that doctor, because he’s already dead. Died earlier
this year. He was killed in a car accident, he’d taken to drink sadly. Possibly
conscience over Anderson’s child, possibly stress over Anderson’s accusations.’

‘Oh.’

‘And there’s no evidence it wasn’t an accident,
but I’m going to get them to reopen the case to double check it wasn’t murder.
Anderson may have started with him, and carried on, or he might have killed the
other doctors after he’d been thwarted of his revenge on the one he blamed.’

‘Well fine, but look, since Anderson’s on ice for
now, it can’t hurt to keep investigating other avenues.’

Will gritted his teeth. ‘Of course we’re still
following up leads, jeez I’m the one being patronised here. Nothing is certain.
There are inconsistencies.... the Gupta murder doesn’t fit the pattern in some
ways. And yes, we’ve checked up on the Morrisons, the couple who blamed him for
their daughter’s death. They had alibis, though admittedly only other family
members, but we’ve got nothing on them anyway.’

‘Isn’t there any forensic evidence?’

‘Nothing conclusive. It’s not that
straightforward. Believe it or not, we have checked for connections between
everyone we know to be involved.’

‘Did you know Chambers was on the waiting list for
Kingston’s Golf Club?’

‘Well no. So thank you for that vital piece of
information Erica.’

God he’d find out who’d missed that and throttle
them even though it was a beyond insane idea. He’d said ‘find ANY connection’
and the team should have caught it. ‘I’ll add it to our database... yes we’ve
even created one of those. Sally Banner’s brilliant with computers.’

‘Yeah, she’d like to defrag your hard drive for a
start.’

‘Everybody doesn’t have a sex-crazed mind like
yours you know.’

‘Poor you! Good luck finding another like me.
Anything in there on Archer and forensics?’

A pause while Will raked through Sally’s database.
‘Erm... yes, Harold Archer, known to both the first two victims. He’d been to
see Kingston about some aches and pains, and to drinks at his house, and of
course he’d bought his mother’s house, though that was all done through
solicitors and estate agents. He’d been to Chambers’ house too, through their
mutual Golf Club connections in the city. So even if we did find the odd hair
or fingerprint it wouldn’t necessarily solve anything. Please, leave it to us!’

‘Peter Wimsey would’ve listened to me. He’s got
imagination.’

‘No, he’s imaginary. Get a grip Erica. You really
think Harold Archer is so eaten up with envy and rage over not getting into a
Golf Club...’

‘Yes! Can’t you just imagine Kingston, selling him
the house at an inflated price, enjoying the fact that it took a lifetime of
effort for Archer to afford it, letting him think his dream is about to come
true, lying to him about getting into the club, then making sure he has to
languish on a list? Do you think guys often leave that club, apart from feet
first? Can you imagine how that feels? Kingston next door, gloating! Sneering
at him every day. Conning a man out of his hard-earned savings, just for the
sadistic pleasure of it.’

‘OK. So I can see how Archer might feel like
bashing Kingston on the head, maybe when they’re both outside trying to chase
those lads away from the path... but Chambers, just because he’s on the list?’

‘Not just because, partly to hide the true
motivation, keep you thinking it’s all about doctors. Gupta may have been a
copycat, maybe that was Anderson, or maybe it was Archer,
because
there’s
no link! The media had run with ‘the Operator’, what better way to draw
suspicion away from himself, confirm it’s a medical motive and a serial killer!’

‘Erica this is an oldish kind of geezer, he’s in
his mid fifties, a serial killer with slippers and a pocketful of Werther’s
Originals...’

‘Will! That’s the most egregious ageism! I can’t
believe I’m hearing this... what appalling stereotyping! My god...’

‘OK, OK, I was being flippant, your theory is so
insane! There was something I was trying to say... god you do my head in. Ah
yes, so he might have crept up on the three surgeons with a rock, stretching
credibility to breaking point, so how about the membership secretary, and you?
How many serial killers have two distinct MOs?’

‘I don’t know. That’s your job.’

‘He’d have to be unfeasibly accurate with a golf
ball to aim straight at somebody’s head! I know he missed yours, but he got
pretty near. Remember what the hoodies said, they have to lie to the lasses
about hitting rabbits. What? Hang on Erica... What is it Hassan?’

Will’s end of the conversation went mute leaving
Erica on hold. Hanging on to memories and words... what had those lads said? It
wasn’t quite the way Will remembered it. She was used to listening to people
and remembering, noticing what they said and how they said it. Something about
a cat... It wasn’t Archer with the cat, it was the woman next door, Ziggy or Siggy.
And something they’d said about the rabbits had surprised her. In fact, she’d
been recording them at the time. She’d not bothered listening to it, as all
sorts of events, Stacey’s call, Will’s arrival, Stacey selling remedies to the
lads, had intervened and anyway she’d only been doing it to impress them.

She dug it out of her bag and found the file for
that night. She played it, fast forwarding.

Here it was
. ‘...used to find golf baals lying
aboot and try and get rabbits and that with them. A couple of windows did kind
of get broke...’

‘Did you ever get any rabbits?’
Her voice,
sceptical.

‘Aye, buttloads of rabbits, man,’
then a
tussle sound and an oof! of pain from the speaker before their leader Scotty’s
voice came on.

‘Shurrup! Did we fuck! We’d find dead ones and
tell other lads we’d killed them. That’s aal.’

That’s what had surprised her. That Scotty would
deny hitting the rabbits instead of lying that he had. She searched a bit
further on, glad that Will was keeping her on hold.

‘We hated the bastard. Stupid fucker...’
meaning Kingston.

‘That other owld gadgie was worse...aalways on
wor case, I fuckin hate him, and that cat - ‘
Another sound of violence and
the voice was cut off. Again, Scotty took over.

 ‘It was the owld wifie with the cat, man,
always coming oot moaning at we.’

Twice Scotty had stopped a lad from speaking and
glossed over what he’d been trying to say. What did it matter who had the cat,
and whether they’d killed rabbits with golf balls?

Thinking hard, she didn’t notice Harold Archer
watching her from his upstairs window. She was watching Blackett through the
Golf Club bar window, speaking on the phone and glowering at her. Snobby git.
His words came back to her, ‘our club, take murderers? some must advertise, but
we don’t...’

‘Murder Must Advertise!’ she said aloud. Dorothy L
Sayers’ novel in which Lord Peter Wimsey solves a crime involving a pebble, no,
a scarab, propelled by a catapult. A cat - ! What if those lads had made or
bought online a catapult which could fire golf balls, and they’d used it to
break windows, damage plants, and take pot-shots at rabbits? Oldest naughty boy
meme in the world. ‘Just William’ and Scotty, twins across the decades. Quite
clever too. Golf balls lying about the course, ammunition that couldn’t be
traced back to them. Golf ball injuries could be blamed on someone practicing
on the course at night. Scotty hadn’t wanted her to know about it. Did this
mean it was the lads who’d fired at the Membership Secretary, taking him out of
action with head injuries, and at herself? With murderous intent, or poor
impulse control?

‘I hate him, and that cat’
the lad began,
speaking of Archer. Had he been about to say, ‘that catapult was ours’? ‘that
catapult took ages to make’, ‘cost a packet on ebay’? Had Archer copied, or
taken, or found, their catapult, and used it against the Membership Secretary,
and herself? Did that make it more or less likely he’d killed Kingston? Her
mind was whirling. She had to think it out. If only Will would listen to her.
She ended the on-hold call with Will, then called him straight back. It went to
voice mail.

‘Will, it’s Erica. It was a catapult. Archer’s got
one, or the lads have, anyway that’s what was used against the membership guy,
and me, and possibly something to do with Kingston’s murder... listen.’ As she
relayed the recorded dialogue she was retrieving her bike and beginning to push
it. ‘I’m going for a run to think things out and work off my adrenaline. Meet
me on the pier if you’re free or call back.’

She finished the call, got on her bike and
pedalled off as if she’d been fired from a catapult herself. She barely noticed
the biting cold even though she’d been still for some time.

Bloody Will Bennett! To think, that arrogant
bastard had once held her in his arms when all her defences were down, given
her orgasms, all the while holding what she did in contempt. All the time,
smugly convinced he’d saved her life back at Stonehead, and that she needed his
protection. She just couldn’t forgive him for that.

‘Bloody Erica Bruce!’ Will
stormed to Hassan, sitting next to him in the car. ‘S’alright, she’s on hold.
She can’t hear. She doesn’t bloody listen, more to the point!’

Hassan had taken a call from the station to say a
Mr Selwyn Blackett, of Wydsand Golf Club, had rung to complain about a Miss
Erica Bruce who had been making allegations about members or would-be members
which could damage the club, especially as she might publish some of this ‘dangerous
twaddle’ in the local paper... and Blackett had ranted on in this manner when
Hassan rang him back to find out what was going on, interested at first simply
by the proximity of the club to Kingston’s house. He’d put Will on the phone,
cue a re-run of the same rant, before he could break in and try to pour oil on
troubled vinegar.

‘She suggested that Mr Archer might be murdering
his way up the waiting list?’ Hassan was hearing this for the first time
without any of Erica’s reasons and couldn’t help grinning. Will grinned back at
him as he tried to soothe Blackett.

‘Do I hear amusement, Officer? It’s not funny I
assure you. This club has spent decades building up a certain reputation...’

Will tuned out briefly, looking at his own mobile
which was silently ringing, Erica’s name showing. He let it go to voicemail
while he offered Hassan’s mobile back to him, and Hassan made a great show of
refusing to take it, Blackett’s voice quacking out of it as it hung in the air
between them. Will put it back to his ear, to hear Blackett winding up, ‘I hope
you’re going to follow this up, young man. She ought to be arrested, or at
least silenced, threatened with legal action... members of this club have had a
bad enough time, press hanging round, members attacked or murdered... Mr Archer
is desperate to get in, I’ve just been telling him, this kind of allegation won’t
do his bid for membership any good...’

‘You’ve spoken to him?’ Oh shit, Erica was in
trouble now. Archer could sue her, the daft bint. ‘Was that wise, sir? If you’re
not happy with that sort of erm, rumour, surely spreading it yourself is
counter-productive?’

‘Yes well I thought Archer ought to know what was
being said, and to be frank with you Inspector, he is well, fanatical about
joining this club, it’s a lifetime ambition for him, and I just thought... well
I told him, I hope you’ve got an alibi for some of these attacks Mr Archer,
because we don’t want this sort of mud sticking to the club!’

A feeling of unease began to form in Will. ‘How
did he respond?’

He pressed mute and hissed at Hassan, ‘Drive!
Archer’s house, next to Kingston’s!’ Better safe than sorry.

Hassan started the car and set off, while Will
kept listening to Blackett on Hassan’s phone.

‘Archer was furious! Said he’d seen her outside
the club, and was going to sort her out. She’d just bicycled off by then but he
said he’d catch her up, and then he hung up on me. Rather rudely too. Then I
saw his car go haring off. Though how he’d know where to look for her...’

Will cut Blackett off, ‘rather rudely’ too, and
grabbed his own mobile to ring Erica. No reply but he saw the missed call from
her. As he listened to her message he snapped, ‘Archer’s after Erica, he’s in a
car and she’s on a bike and he’s out of his mind with rage... she’ll be heading
to the pier. To ‘think it all out’. She’s got a new theory and new evidence and
she won’t know what to do with it.’ Since I’ve shown no interest in her ideas.

‘Hang on.’ Hassan slewed the car round. ‘Maybe
Archer will lose her? She could cycle anywhere, alleys, footpaths.’

‘She said in the paper that’s where she goes to
think and to run. He might know where she’s heading. Best head straight there,
though we’ll keep an eye out for her.’ He asked the station to put a call out
on Archer’s car, and for any officer to look out for Erica on her bike. Hassan was
making all the speed he could on the residential streets, towards the sea front
and heading for the river mouth.

‘Long shot though,’ Hassan said. ‘We don’t know
which way they went, there are loads of streets you can cut along. We’ll try
the obvious, the sea front road.’