Cyril nodded. “Thank you, right, that’s useful to know. One last thing.” Cyril always liked asking a question before leaving and he often allowed a pause after opening the sentence. “How did Kevin get to work daily? We know he didn’t drive.”

  There was surprise that could be considered relief on hearing the question. “A sore point that, Detective Chief Inspector, a sore point. Failed his driving test at least four times. I kept saying that God was telling him something and that maybe he should give up. The problem was, Detective Chief Inspector, he didn’t know his left from his right. He could never follow directions. Used to write on his hand so that he’d know. Doesn’t work well when driving in traffic.” He shook his head and smiled.

  “So how did he get to work was the question?”

  “He knew the route. Done it many times.”

  “Mode of transport, Mr Duffers?”

  “Yes, sorry. He cycled most days unless the weather was really bad, then he’d catch a bus. It’s not that far and he always changed out of his Lycra when he arrived. Showered and dressed in his more formal attire which was kept here. We make sure it’s laundered. It’s about standards.”

  There was a pause as Cyril pulled at his bottom lip. “We’ve just looked over his apartment but there was no bicycle.”

  Duffers laughed. “Some of the apartments in the three blocks have an external store, and one or two have garages. Kevin showed me the plans of the build and asked if I thought it worth having one. Now if you’ve ever lived in a flat you know the one thing you never have enough of is storage space. He pushed the boat out and bought a garage, that was one of the extras, the main one actually but in my opinion well worth the investment. He has three bikes and he stores his gear in there too. We went down to look when he moved in, a kind of house warming.”

  “Many there?”

  “Yes, it was busy by the time I was leaving. There was Prosecco everywhere, bottle after bottle. Showed me the whole place. Really nice, great views from the back looking into the valley.”

  ***

  The journey back from Richmond was uneventful and Cyril survived relatively unscathed mainly due to Owen taking the A1M. The hour also gave him time to think. He would have loved to make notes but putting his head down and writing would have been an instant recipe to vomit. However, he did add a voice memo to his phone to check Carruthers’s garage. Just as they were heading into Ripon Cyril received another call. Owen glanced sideways.

  “It’s April.”

  “Bennett.”

  “The victim is a John Van de Meer, thirty-one and lives in Howden.” She did not make the mistake of giving him a geography lesson. “Same damage inflicted to the throat as the previous victim but I’m assured he still has both his hands. However, he doesn’t have his ears. Both removed. As with the last case there doesn’t seem to have been a disturbance, nobody heard anything out of the ordinary. The people in the next room heard movement and the toilet flush about one in the morning but that was it.”

  There was a pause as Cyril digested what he had just heard. “Confirm you said ears.”

  “Ears, sir, both. There’s a difference in the amputation. According to this report the lobule on the right is still in place and the top twenty per cent of the left auricle is still present suggesting a rushed job.”

  Cyril tried to assimilate the information and visualise the damage. “CCTV?”

  “There is in the entrance but someone has sprayed some kind of paint or grease on it. I’ve seen the clip. All you can see is a hooded figure, and then the hand holding a can before the spray hit the camera. After that, nothing.”

  “Property damage? Key system? So, no damage to any of the doors or windows? I take it they didn’t have card keys just the old-style key in the lock?”

  “Correct.” April had not liked the way the investigation had developed all morning; it had all the hallmarks of retribution, someone was cancelling a debt in the most gruesome way. It had obviously been carefully planned and executed and in her opinion, who ever was carrying out these acts had been trusted or the victims had in some way been incapacitated. Either way, there was little chance of knowing if others were to follow with another full day of the convention left to run.

  “April, I want all the details. Interview everyone still in the place. I also want the names and contact details going back twelve months of anyone who stayed in the deceased’s room. Get someone to do the same for The Grey House as that’s something we failed to do. I want as much information as possible back at the station as soon as.”

  ***

  After a further twenty minutes they were approaching Harrogate town centre.

  “Castle Grey Skull looms into view,” mumbled Owen, deepening his voice as if attempting to sound sinister. They turned off Otley Road and onto Beckwith Head Road.

  “It’s too modern, Owen.”

  “Not at dusk when the evening light falls on the stonework. Only needs turrets and there’s enough weirdoes working in it… Present company excepted, of course.”

  Cyril glanced sideways as he placed the e-cigarette between his lips; soon a stream of vapour began to roll from his nostrils.

  The dragon returns, Owen thought to himself as the car moved beneath the red and white security barrier.

  Chapter Nine

  Valerie Thew had just turned the key in the lock of the charity shop when the hand touched her shoulder. She instinctively jumped letting out a not too lady-like expletive.

  “Sorry I didn’t mean to startle you, Valerie. Sorry. Have you had an early lunch?”

  She held her hands across her chest, her beige handbag on the crook of her left arm, the keys in her right hand. “Well if you didn’t I’d hate to experience it when you did, Jim West. Goodness, you nearly gave me a heart attack.”

  “I was just passing and I thought I’d pop in and say hello. I also wanted to let you know how much I enjoyed your company the other evening.”

  Valerie felt herself relax and her heart fluttered slightly. “Me too.”

  “I can’t ask you out this evening as I play Mahjong tonight with a group from the U3A unless you want to come along and learn?”

  She laughed. “Takes me all my time to play rummy. Far too complicated for me. Maybe another night.”

  “That would be lovely, yes.” Jim smiled. “I’ll call you.” He turned and walked away from the shop.

  Valerie returned his smile and waved. That would be just what the doctor ordered, Jim West. Just what the doctor ordered.

  ***

  Owen brought a cup and saucer and placed it on the desk in the incident room. He held onto his mug.

  “No hand and now no ears. You realise, sir, that if the first person had lost their eyes we could assume the missing ears meant hearing so if there’s another body with a missing tongue, there’d be a connection as in the three wise monkeys…”

  “But they didn’t, Owen, did they? They lost a hand.”

  Owen pondered what he had said for a moment and then turned to Cyril. “Just thought.”

  “You know what thought did don’t you?”

  “Dustcart and wedding, sir.” Owen raised his shoulders.

  Something had been worrying Cyril since leaving the undertaker’s and Owen’s waffle did not help. “What do you make of these escape rooms?”

  Owen sipped his tea; a drip from the bottom of the mug fell but missed both his clothing and Cyril’s desk. “They’re getting very popular, been around for a few years but it’s not taken off like laser, paintball or bowling. It probably stemmed from things like The Crystal Maze programmes on TV.”

  Cyril raised his eyebrows. “The Crystal Maze? A crystal maze is a contradiction as you can see through the walls and therefore it would cease to be a maze… Pointless.”

  “That’s on television too, sir. Are you sure you don’t have a secret set?”

  “Idiot’s lantern, Owen.” Cyril’s voice was raised as his frustration grew. “I’ll tell you about televisions and these new phones and tablets. Even when televisions were large and expensive boxes they used to sit in the corner of a room and stifle family interaction and now they’re in every room. Families don’t even sit together, kids upstairs, father watching football and the mother catching up on the soaps. Go into restaurants and nobody talks; they sit there looking at the illuminated lantern. In some ways, Kevin Carruthers had the right idea, as did those attending the convention. It’s about talking and laughing together. Interaction, Owen, that’s what real life’s about, not this virtual bloody world that is meaningless and insincere.”

  There was a pause before Owen mumbled something about death.

  “Pardon? Speak up, man.”

  “Bit dangerous if you ask me, this gaming business, from where I’m standing that is. We have two deaths, two murders involving two socially interactive human beings. If they’d stayed at home and watched telly they might still be alive today. Any road, going back to The Crystal Maze, it was on the TV. It’s still on You Tube.”

  It was Cyril’s turn to look confused.

  Owen rested his mug on the desk before moving to the keyboard, bringing up You Tube on the large wall-mounted screen. “Now, sir, sit back and be educated in the power of the Internet.” Harry Nixon came in as The Crystal Maze started to play. He pulled up a chair. “You’ll see they take games to another level. Teamwork yet you play games as an individual. Interestingly, you can, if you have no confidence in one of your team, leave them locked up. Obviously on the telly show that’s only make believe but… If you were a warped bugger you could cause mischief. Can you imagine setting one up in some semi-derelict mill and offering challenges, private challenges?”

  “You could make enemies too if you were playing for high stakes,” Harry added.

  It was not lost on Cyril as he watched as the contestants each were given their set challenge, cheered on by the others who were outside the games room looking in and offering words of encouragement and on occasion clear advice.

  Cyril frowned but could see the deviant direction in which Owen’s imagination was taking him. “Immediate lock-in when too many mistakes are made, when the individual fails thereby putting pressure on the others in the team. That could make enemies of friends. I see what you’re suggesting, Owen.”

  “My brother and two sisters used to come to blows over Monopoly,” Harry chipped in, “especially at Christmas. It was like World War bloody three in our house.”

  “Simply sibling rivalry, Harry. Speaking of siblings, what of Carruthers’s brother?”

  Harry immediately responded. “Richard Carruthers. He’s been notified and to be honest from all accounts he says that they didn’t really get on after their mother passed away. Dispute over the mother’s will apparently. Father had died twelve months prior. He has a clear alibi for the time running up to and of the murder. He’s happy to come over if it will help but needs notice owing to work commitments.”

  “So, this we have seen is an escape room?” Cyril sipped the last of his tea.

  “Similar in some ways but nothing like in another.” It was again Harry who answered. “Owen asked me to check the games played but I noted that there was talk of escape rooms and so not knowing anything about them I did some digging; it’s fascinating to be honest. There are businesses dotted around the country, usually big towns, that offer these as recreational games but also as team building exercises for businesses. Often they’re very cleverly designed. Some I’ve seen are really extremely clever. They’re all against the clock.” Harry looked at Cyril.

  “Awaiting April’s feedback. Go ahead.”

  “Unlike that you have just witnessed now, these are organised differently. Still team building but the group of people work through the rooms together trying to collect something and then escape before the time is up. Nobody is at anytime isolated. So, let me give you one scenario I’ve seen. First you go through into what is a lift, an elevator. You have to work out where the new door is. Sometimes they’re not as you would imagine and it may be a small passageway set behind some kind of panelling. Once in the next room you have to solve visual, skilful and technical clues in order to locate the object and then find the way out. Owing to the light quality it’s not easy. Sometimes they have that dry ice giving a smoky atmosphere; helps hide the clues too. So, for example, there was a cave, an Egyptian tomb, a storeroom containing packing cases and even a laboratory where you had to find the magic tablets, the antidote you have to collect as you have been infected with a deadly virus that would kill you after sixty minutes. Each escape game company has different scenarios and they develop new ones on a regular basis to attract the gamers back.”

  “Carruthers was a regular user according to Duffers. He briefly described them too. Thanks, Harry. Get in touch with any escape rooms in the north east initially, make general enquiries, usual stuff, check if he booked in, if so with whom etc. Also see if they keep CCTV of the venue and also the rooms. I would imagine there’s tight monitoring as far as Health and Safety is concerned.”

  “There’s one here in Harrogate, just started up this year.”

  “Worth checking to see if either of the victims booked.”

  “I’ve checked… Nothing,” Harry answered as he left. Owen followed.

  ***

  Cyril checked his watch and his diary. He had to meet Dr Julie Pritchett, the pathologist, within the hour.

  Chapter Ten

  Cyril was always fascinated by Julie’s office although he despaired at the layer of dust that seemed to be constantly present on the glass-topped surfaces. However, he also noted the initials he had drawn in the dust on his last visit were no longer present.

  It was the jars and objects that always brought out his curious nature. He always avoided the pickled penis and he was not too enamoured by the tapeworm. To think something of that length could live inside the human body was just staggering. It reminded him of Owen’s mention of the royal we. He glanced along the shelf at the many jars. It brought to mind the work by the artist Damien Hirst. There were no sharks, cows or sheep here but these jars held more of a conundrum. The wet specimen he studied looked like layers of bark, beige in colour but as he moved closer it appeared more like compressed tubing. He moved his hand towards the jar.

  “Don’t you dare, Bennett. Is nothing sacred? Rooting through a woman’s personal private bits and pieces.”

  Cyril turned, a wide grin on his face. “Spoil sport!”

  Julie had been watching him from the open door; she delighted in his morbid curiosity. “So I can only take your first answer, Cyril Vaughan Bennett, and if you fail you buy dinner. You know the rules, you’ve played the game before. But no touching.”

  He sat back down but his eyes never left the jar. “I’d say it’s either the large or small intestine and if I have to choose it’s going to be…” he paused looking towards Julie. “Large?”

  “Asking or telling, detective?”

  “Large… Telling.” He raised his eyebrows and pulled a face that really showed he was not all that certain.

  “Correct, Sherlock, so my turn to buy. Tonight, mind. I fancy Asian, the one opposite the Mercer, what’s its name?”

  “The Orchid.” Cyril smiled. “Perfect. Now what do you have for me?”

  Julie and Cyril had been in a relationship for some time but as they were both married to their professions, neither had wanted to take it further. Living separately suited their need for independence and so the status quo had been right for them both until now, but if the truth were known, Cyril had seen Julie in a different light upon the death of his father. Her sensitive understanding and support during his traumatic soul-searching had enabled him to make the correct decisions, clearing the fog of time and the anger of his youth; opening his eyes and allowing his feelings to flood out, for him an alien experience that once he would have considered a weakness. This caring support had brought a reunion with and appreciation of his stepmother, Wendy, after many years of false resentment. Suddenly, he had found this new relationship to be a blessing. He also knew that without Julie he would have lost this valuable and now precious part of his life. She had in fact helped him to find compassion, helped him to bury the hatchet.

  ***

  April Richmond had finished collating the interviews taken from the residents of the Victorian Guest House and ensured that they would be added to HOLMES as well as updating the incident room boards. She had pulled up a chair and set about comparing the details from both cases. The similarities or coincidences were staggering and because of their exactitude she was of the belief that both murders had been planned and committed by the same person.

  “Both in bed and breakfast establishments, both attending the games convention and from what we know to date, neither had met.” She jotted down her thoughts in her notepad. “Both appear to have been killed in the same way from the looks of it although we’ll know more when the post-mortem results are in. Both had a part of their anatomy removed posthumously.”

  “You can’t talk to a better person, April.” Shakti moved towards her resting a hand on her shoulder.

  “Just thinking out loud, Shak. These deaths are so specific.”

  “Most serial killers’ victims are. They follow a pattern, tend to be the same types. Look at the Yorkshire Ripper.”

  “They were just easy targets. If you arrive at particular areas in certain cities you can find them, Christ, they even climb into your car. These killings are different, they’re more revenge, more payback. To me, they knew the killer and in some ways trusted him. It appears as if it’s some kind of end game.”

  “Have we checked this man’s bank details? Remember Carruthers’s was cleared out just before he died even though it all appears above board.”

  “In hand but at this stage everything seems in order.”

  “Have we had the toxicology results on Carruthers through yet?”

  “Good point, Shak. I can’t recall.” She stood and moved closer to the boards allowing her finger to touch certain notes.

 

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