Treble clef, p.19
Treble Clef, page 19
part #8 of DCI Cyril Bennett Series
“I don’t think so. When we came out of the shed I saw her mother watching us from her bedroom window. Felicity didn’t see her.”
“Did she witness what went on or did she just see you enter and leave the shed?”
“Just go in and come out.”
“How long were you in there?”
“Fifteen minutes, no more.”
“Had you gone in there before with Mrs Boardman, Mr Drakes?”
“Yes, but not for that.”
“Did you call her Felicity or Fliss?”
“Felicity, always. She wanted me to call her Fliss, especially after we did… any road, I couldn’t, even more so after that. I knew then I’d have to find another place. I couldn’t do that to someone who’d opened his door for me.”
“Thank you, Mr Drakes, you’ve been very co-operative. I’ll get one of the officers to run you home.”
“If you’ve done with me too, I’ll run him. It’s what mates do.”
Drakes looked at Tommy. “Sorry, Tommy.”
“Mr Drakes, an officer noticed a model of this creature on your mantelpiece. May I ask why you have it?” He showed Drakes a photograph of the figure.
“Present from Kevin when he left, a thank you, like. He said it would keep me from harm and protect me.”
“Thank you.”
“Why were you at the Harrogate Games Convention? Do you play these sorts of games?”
For the second time Gary Drakes flushed. He turned quickly to Tommy and then back to Brian, clasping his hands until his knuckles showed white.
“I was meeting Kevin. He asked me to call on him if I was near Harrogate, that day. I thought I’d kill two birds with one stone, like. Met him and a mate of his. Can’t remember his name. Had a pint with them too, up by the memory thing…”
“The Cenotaph?”
“Aye. They were going on to play some game or other so I said I was going home.”
“Did you see either again that night?”
Drakes just shook his head.
“We need a yes or no answer, Mr Drakes.”
“Sorry, no.”
“Thank you both for your co-operation. We’ll be in touch.”
The two left. It was like a father leading home his son.
Brian looked at April. “Kill two birds with one stone, an unfortunate expression to use if I may say so.”
April simply laughed and shook her head. “He’s daft but not that daft. What a sad case.” She picked up the cup from which Drakes had been drinking. “Get that checked immediately for DNA. Insist on RapidHIT.”
Brian looked at her. One minute she was almost crying with him and then the next she was as cold as steel. He would never understand women, he thought.
“I need to talk to Flash and I need to do it now. Be prepared for an early kick-off tomorrow as a few more worms have appeared from what we’d hoped was an empty can.”
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Cyril had not long parked the car and was about to call at The Coach for a swift half before bed. The ginnel linking Robert Street with West Park Road was dark and a solitary figure stood to one side. Cyril saw the red glow of a cigarette end before smelling the sweetness of the smoke that lingered like guilt. He would have loved to have stopped and had words but he was neither in the mood nor prepared to commit the time. His phone rang. He left it in his pocket until he emerged into the well-lit road. April’s number was displayed.
“Bennett.”
“Sorry to bother you, sir. Are you back or still at your mum’s?”
“Just about to have a nightcap in the pub and then bed. What’s up?”
April explained what had happened regarding the interview with Drakes and his time with the Boardmans. “So we have a case of historical rape to consider and you want to suggest to me that there might have been a murder committed by either Colin or Felicity Boardman?” He paused before entering the pub. “Briefing at eight in the morning. I want you and Brian with me at seven. Organise a car for me at six-thirty. It never seems to rain but pour.”
***
The light to Grant’s B&B sign was still illuminated at 2.30 in the morning. Harrogate had been busy but then it always was when the weather was fine. The wait had not been too bad and he had managed to snatch some sleep. This visit tonight was really a first for him, it was indulgent, for his entertainment and pleasure, not for revenge. It was now a game to determine how long he could play and to see if those who found the clues could stop him.
Holding the three keys in the palm of his hand he thought of his victim, remembering the look on Alan’s face as he had solved the final clue. He had been successful after all and that was more than could be said for the other two losers. He sat back in the car seat as he recalled the moment his suspicions had been confirmed. It was when he saw Felicity leaving the flat, he realised then what was going on with Kevin. He had only returned home for his wallet, having left it on the kitchen table. There they both were, at it behind his back. That was the first time but there had been many more occasions and their meetings were becoming more frequent. When he encountered them, their eyes laughed as they turned to look at each other. Meeting Kevin’s friend, John, with the swanky name, Van de Meer, Colin had been introduced as Fliss’s husband, as if he were a nonentity, an appendage. He saw their amusement, felt it and it hurt. That had been the final straw, the gauntlet had been dropped.
Moving to Harrogate and renting Jim West’s flat above the redundant shop had been the catalyst, the spark of the idea. It was as if they had come to him and said here are the mechanics of your new and murderous game of revenge. Jim West was so up his theatrical arse that he never stopped to think. Providing his stage settings were successful he was happy. Stan, just an amateur actor, always thought he had missed the boat that led to stardom. He had a pointless life, no wife, retirement and nothing only bit parts and games nights to keep himself amused; of course if you did not count painting little people.
He talked out loud to himself as if to crystallise his thoughts. “And as for Drakes? What plans for the poor, sad and dim-witted, Drakes?”
How her mother had gloated at the fact that Felicity and he enjoyed dibbing and potting. He remembered those were her very words, dibbing and potting in the shed. Has Felicity been using Drakes’s dibber today, Colin? According to my daughter, Drakes can use his dibber far better than you ever could. He pulled down the sunshade and looked in the illuminated mirror.
“The old witch knew how far to go. It was not what she said but the manner in which she delivered her barbed comments. Still, everything comes to those who wait. Best served cold I think they recommend. Are we now ready?”
Opening the bag that was positioned on the passenger seat he observed the sheath in which three shards of cranberry glass were individually wrapped. There was a blue faience-like figure enveloped in plastic, a polythene bag, a small bottle and a large electrical tie.
It took three minutes from opening the gate to mounting the stairs to number 4. All the rooms he had visited, were familiar. He stayed one night in each, despite having rented West’s flat. He considered it to be his research. They had to meet the set criteria. He would require the keys so he had pocketed them. The names he had given, details of the work he was doing in Harrogate and the addresses he had registered were all part of the mechanics of the game, the game that he had created.
Opening the bedroom door to find Alan flaked across the made bed was a rewarding sight. The red glow from the headlamp he wore gave enough light until he parted the curtains slightly. The blaze of the orange from the streetlights brought with it warmth. From the bag he removed the sheath. It would all be over in minutes.
***
April made herself a third coffee. Sleep seemed impossible as she watched Ralph’s legs twitch. He was probably running after some ball in a distant and deep dream. She found it difficult to remove Drakes’s face from her thoughts as she ran the consequences of the story over in her head. What ifs seemed a huge part of that rewind process as different scenarios tumbled in her mind’s eye. What if Felicity not only had an affair with Drakes but also with Carruthers? What if Felicity’s mother told Colin what she had witnessed, even mocked him? What if Colin had manipulated the incident with the stepladder, positioned it after striking or pushing her against the object that killed her? She really needed more information. What if Boardman knew of her initial infidelity, suspected Carruthers, discovered in fact that they were having an affair. That would suggest the swift exit of them both. She could almost hear Cyril’s words now. What ifs count for nothing without hard facts. You and I both know that. He would be right. She looked at the kitchen clock. It was 3.15.
“Walk, Ralph.” She summoned as much enthusiasm into her voice as she could muster.
The dream over, Ralph yawned and looked up.
“The Stray awaits, big man. Come on and then I need to feed you and get into work. Facts need finding, they’ll never find themselves.”
***
It never ceased to surprise him how soft the flesh was as he ran a finger along Alan’s unshaved throat. In this relaxed position the skin felt new. Alan’s head twitched slightly, responding to the touch. Quickly, the plastic bag was pulled gently over his head and an electrical tie was drawn tightly around it. He moved away, sat by the desk and watched and waited. Alan’s body started to twitch and his hands moved towards his face. The drug had really taken hold and they flailed, displaying little control.
Guttural noises seemed to be adequately trapped within the bag as the arms slowly came to rest across the white sheets. It would not be long now. There were a few spasms and Alan’s legs twitched, this time more forcibly but the bag seemed to have formed a death mask drawn tightly against his facial features.
Once he could no longer detect movement, he removed the bag. The neck, now exposed again allowed the edge of the glass to run smoothly, slicing the flesh with such ease, causing droplets of warm blood to bead, ooze and run. Over and over again he passed the glass edge over the skin’s surface, each time using a different level of force. The start point was always from the same side until it was time for the final cut using the last of the glass shards. On this occasion it dug deeply, severing and slicing all in its path. The wound curled slightly at the edges, like a flower’s petals opening to reveal the richness of colour within.
After returning the glass back into the sheath, he removed a small bottle. He needed the tweezers to extract the small, used razor blade head to secrete it behind the washbowl pedestal. It was evidently not a place cleaned very often considering the degree of dust, fluff and other detritus in the room. A discarded cotton earbud looked particularly disgusting. He then found Alan’s phone and dropped it into his bag.
Listening at the door for any sounds of movement, he took another swift survey of the room as he prepared to leave. Closing each door in turn he ensured that they were all locked. Within minutes he was in his car.
Chapter Thirty
April had brought the coroner’s report on the death of Felicity’s mother up on screen. As Quinn had accurately pointed out, there were unresolved questions and it was now clear why the said verdict had been given. She read through the interview with Drakes. Although it was fresh in her mind, she sought confirmation.
Checking the noticeboards, she observed that the findings from the scribblers, the name given to the forensic handwriting investigators, had confirmed that the lettering on Carruthers’s right hand spelled the word, RITE. Inspecting the close-up images it was obvious to see that the loop on the letter R and the cross on the E could be misinterpreted for a D and a K. “Didn’t know his left from his right. Only four fingers and he could see what it meant immediately.”
Dan entered the incident room. “Heard you couldn’t sleep. It’s all getting as clear as the fog on a September day. This might help you to penetrate it. The DNA results on Drakes. I think you’ve found your man. Positive on the low copy number traces discovered on the dead men’s clothing, the toenail clipping and on the mucus found in both rooms where the victims were located. Seems like a game, set and DNA match to me.” A broad grin spread across his face.
April read the report and everything inside her screamed contradiction. Drakes did not have the intellect nor the stealth. She immediately thought about the man who had broken down and wept. She believed that she knew genuine emotional turmoil when she saw it and she was convinced that this was what she had witnessed. There was also an affinity, a strong bond between Tommy Boardman and Drakes. She scrutinised the test results. Something just did not gel.
***
Detective Chief Inspector Cyril Bennett carried the cup and saucer into his room. Unscrewing one of the batteries dangling from the charger plugged into the electric wall socket, he replaced the one in his electronic cigarette. The menthol vapour and the immediate shot of nicotine were just what he needed. He looked at his watch, shook his wrist and checked again. He was early by nearly an hour.
“Morning, I think, sir. Couldn’t sleep so I came in to check a few things out. Poor Ralph didn’t know what had hit him!”
Cyril laughed. “He’s not the only one. Let me get this right. We may now have an historical rape to investigate against this Laird as he’s known, whatever his name is.”
“Lord Craimer.”
Cyril looked up, gratified to receive the information. “A separate murder regarding the death of Boardman’s mother-in-law and we’re still working on the two murders here in Harrogate.”
April slipped the DNA results document onto Cyril’s desk. “When Drakes was in yesterday I gave him a drink and then took the liberty of sending for a RapidHIT test. Lo and behold this came back.”
“What’s the reliability of such a fast check?”
“Enough to arrest and hold him and to investigate further. What we need to do is to see if Gary Drakes checked into the B&Bs previous to the dates of the murders and take further DNA tests. We know that he’s not on file for anything previous. We have him on record as registering and licensing firearms but he neither keeps arms nor ammunition at his present address. The tools he uses in the course of his work are stored there. I’d also like to talk to Felicity Brooke again in the light of Drakes’s confession. There’s more to this than meets the eye.”
“Briefing is in sixty minutes and Brian is here in ten. Let’s just make sure we have all the facts before the meeting. To use a sporting analogy, let’s not go off half-cocked.”
***
“Right. Good morning. You should be familiar with the latest developments. It looks to me as though we may well be closing in on our killer. We have the other developments but at this stage the historical rape can go on the back burner. The other death could be linked, so April and Quinn will be paying Felicity Brooke another visit after this briefing. I’ve already organised the arrest of Mr Gary Drakes for further questioning over the deaths of Kevin Carruthers and John Van de Meer. Owen will organise that. Drakes may well be responsible for the death of Felicity Brooke’s mother too. He will need a solicitor present from the outset.” He turned to an officer close by and made the request for him to organise it.
“Sir.”
“The rest of you need to perform a final sweep of all of the evidence. Check and check again. Harry, once Drakes has been photographed I want you personally to see if the owner of The Grey House and The Victorian Guest House recognise him as being a past client. Check their registers too. Also send it to facial recognition to see if he pops up anywhere else.”
***
Jim West had also found sleep to be a stranger. He had to admit to being thrilled that the escape room had not only been a success for the client, but also a personal triumph for him. To have such a well-versed gamer pay him compliments was more than he could have hoped for. After the previous two volunteers had failed even to follow the most basic of instructions, he was now reassured that the level of the clues he had designed was appropriate. He was, however, angry that neither of the first players had responded to his offer to go through the clues with him in the hope that he could learn from them.
He wandered towards and then down Montpellier Hill, crossed by The Crown Hotel before wandering along Royal Parade. Pausing briefly, he admired the tree-lined cobbled Crown Place, a pedestrian street that ran alongside the beautiful and historical Pump Room Museum. Even in the weak light of early morning it retained its splendour. How he loved this town.
Passing through the gates of Valley Gardens, he decided on the lower of the two pathways and within minutes he was surrounded by the park’s natural beauty. He stood momentarily and let the light breeze blow on his face. He thought of Valerie. She had been so concerned for him. Checking his watch he decided that he would call her within the hour, he owed her that at least. Turning to leave he took the route towards the upper path. The public noticeboard came into view and it was one particular poster that drew his attention.
***
Cyril had briefly returned to his office when he received a call. It was 8.40.
“Where? The normal procedure. No one in or out, including the guests. Forensics?”
“Owen!” His voice carried through that area of the building.
Owen popped his head round the door.
“We’ve got another bloody body, another guest house and another with lacerations to the throat. Where the bloody hell was Drakes last night and what time did he leave here?”
Chapter Thirty-One
The road was closed off by the two, thin plastic tapes that ran from the railings of Grants guest house, over the pavement and to the opposite side of the road. Only two parked cars were trapped within. Twenty minutes earlier the restricted area had been broader but had now been checked for evidence. Cyril and Owen had parked in the middle of the road behind the two CSI vehicles, both small vans. A police officer stood nearby. Even at this stage a few inquisitive neighbours had started to spectate and chat with each other.
