Philip Brennan 02 - The Creeper (30 page)

It kept ringing.

Rose leaned across, placed her hand on his. ‘Don’t answer it.’

‘I can’t just . . . I’m the superior officer on this case. It might be important.’

Fire flashed in Rose’s eyes once more. ‘Ben, what have I just showed you? What links have I just made for you? I’ve just given you a lead that’s going to blow anything Phil Brennan’s got right out of the water. Now you can either answer that phone, go running after him or you can come with me.’

Fenwick said nothing. Kept his eyes averted from hers.

‘What’ll it be?’

The phone stopped ringing.

Fenwick sighed. ‘Come on,’ he said.

She smiled. ‘Good call, Ben. That’s the right decision.’ She gave a sly smile, thrusting her breasts out as she did so. ‘And besides, you might just get another reminder of my awesome blow-job technique if you come with me.’

Despite having come only moments earlier, he felt himself stiffening once more. She knew how to press his buttons. And he loved to have them pressed.

‘Come on then,’ he said, unlocking his office door and stepping into the hall.

As he did so, Fiona Welch was walking towards him.

‘There you are,’ she said, ‘I’ve been looking for you.’

He stopped walking. As he did, Rose emerged from the office, bumped into him. Fiona looked between the two of them, a smile spreading across her face.

Fenwick felt himself reddening. ‘I’ve just been . . . We’ve been looking at a new lead that’s . . . that’s just come in. That we’ve just discovered. That Rose - that DS Martin has just shown me.’

‘Right.’ Fiona Welch nodded, kept her smile controlled. ‘There’s been a phone call for you in the bar. I took it. DI Brennan. Says he’s got a new lead. Lot of them about.’

Fenwick nodded. ‘Right. Right. Well, I’ve just - we’ve just got to pop out for a bit. Got a lead of our own to follow up.’

‘Oh, whereabouts?’ Fiona’s question was sharp, quick. She smiled. ‘I’m only asking because I’m . . . doing the geographic profile DI Brennan asked me to do. If you’ve got something I should know where it is, factor it in.’

‘Greenstead Road,’ he said. ‘Now, if you’ll excuse me . . .’

Fenwick, with Rose in tow, squeezed past Fiona Welch. She watched them go. Then went back to her desk. Keyed the information Fenwick has just given her into her BlackBerry.

71

T
he Creeper had stopped noticing the smell.

He was used to being surrounded by death. Years of living with it on a daily basis had done that to him. There were tricks he used, ways to make them smell less, or to make him not think about them being there so much, but that’s all they were. Just tricks. The actual death, of stopping someone’s heart, seeing the light go out in their eyes, that didn’t bother him at all. In fact, he enjoyed it. And having their bodies around him, the empty husks that had once housed their spirits, just lying on the floor or in another room was nothing. Just more rubbish lying about.

It hadn’t always been like that. Or at least he didn’t think it had. If he thought back hard enough he could remember a time when things were different. Before the fire.

Before the nightmares and the monsters.

In those memories and dreams it was always summer. The colours so vivid, alive. There were swings and laughter. And a girl. Always a girl. Small, smiling. At him. In a kind way.

Not Rani. Not like her.

And yet . . . not unlike her.

And she would laugh and he would smile and the sun would make the soft downy hairs on his arms tickle. Those dream memories.

And he would open his eyes. And the world would be as it was now. With no colour in it. And there would be no sun tickling his arms. No heat. No fire.

And the girl with her sunny smiles would be gone.

And he would think some more and there would be Rani. Only Rani.

The old woman’s body had started to smell. It had gone through being stiff and impossible to move, like bodies did. And now it was starting to loosen up. Soon it would be nothing more than an old sack of fluid, fat and bones.

The Creeper didn’t care. It was nothing to him.

He was still watching. Waiting. Practising being patient. Willing Rani to appear again.

Rose Martin. That was the name she was going by. But it wasn’t important. He would call her by her real one. Make her answer to it.

He didn’t like that man being around, though. Felt a shaft of something hard and icy hot lance through him when he thought of that man with her, touching her, talking to her . . . He wished he were nearer to her than across the road. In the house with her where he should be. Living together as lovers.

Soon, though. Once he’d worked out how to go about it. Soon.

He closed his eyes. He could feel her, trying to get through, trying to talk to her.

And there she was.

‘Hello, Rani.’

Hello, my love.

‘I . . . I’m watching you. Can you see me?’

Yes, I can see you. I always know when you’re there.

He grinned, let out a little giggle. ‘Good.’

Listen,
she said,
d’you want to come and meet me?

He was too shocked to talk for a few seconds. That wasn’t what he had been expecting to hear her say. ‘Wha-- . . . when? Where?’

She gave him directions.

As for when
. . .
Why not right now?

‘Really? You mean that? I don’t need to watch the house any more, I can come and meet you?’

I’d love you to.

He heard the yearning in her voice. No mistaking it. Yearning for him. He giggled again.

But there is one thing. I have to tell you this and you’ve got to know. It’s very important.

‘What, Rani? Anything. You can tell me anything . . .’

Well, there’s this man. He’s been bothering me. Wanting me to
. . .
well, I couldn’t say. But I’m sure you can guess.

And there it was, that hard, icily hot shaft spearing him once more. Making him angry. ‘Is it the one from the car last night?’

She was silent for a few seconds.
Yes. That would be him. I want you to deal with him for me. Get rid of him. Would you do that?

‘Of course I would. You know that. I’d do anything for you. Anything.’

She laughed.
I know. He’ll be with me. Get rid of him and then
. . .

He waited. ‘Yes?’

You can have me. I’m all yours
.

‘I can’t wait.’

Me neither. Isn’t this great? We can be together again
. . .

72

‘Y
ou got a minute?’ Milhouse grabbed Phil as soon as he entered the bar. He was trying to be secretive about it, but since he was standing by the door looking shifty and suspicious, he couldn’t have been more obvious if he’d been wearing a trench coat and a trilby with the word ‘spy’ written across the hatband.

Seeing Milhouse, he realised that he hadn’t thought about Marina for hours. With the case moving the way it was, and at the speed it was, that was understandable but he still felt guilty over it.

Milhouse led him over to his desk. ‘Those cards,’ he said quietly, ‘the ones you asked me to trace . . .’ His voice dropped to a stage whisper. He sat down at his computer.

Phil stood over him, waiting. Anxious once again. ‘Yeah?’

Milhouse waved his hands over the keys. ‘Bury St Edmunds,’ he said. ‘Hotel, restaurant, supermarket.’ He looked up, compassion in his eyes. ‘That’s where she is.’

Phil managed a smile. ‘Thanks, Milhouse, I owe you one.’

‘My pleasure.’

‘Could I ask you another favour, though?’ Phil gave a quick look round to make sure no one was in earshot. ‘Could you keep this quiet?’

Milhouse gave what he supposed was an enigmatic smile. ‘I am a keeper of many secrets.’

‘I’ll bet you are,’ said Phil, and crossed the room.

Bury St Edmunds. That made sense. So obvious when he thought about it. Where he should have looked first. It was almost like she wanted him to come, to find her. Suddenly his mobile felt hot in his pocket.

He took it out, ready to call, when he saw Fiona Welch enter. He quickly put it back, crossed to her.

‘Fiona,’ he said.

She stopped walking, looked at him. Her lips had been moving, deep in conversation with herself. She looked up, surprised to see him, startled, as if she had just woken from a dream.

‘Yes?’

‘The geographical profile,’ he said.

‘Yes.’ Her eyes flickered like she was running through her mental Rolodex, working her way round to what he was talking about. ‘Right. Been working on it all morning. Nearly done.’

‘Don’t worry about it.’

Fire flashed in her eyes. ‘What? What d’you mean?’

‘We have a suspect under surveillance that we favour very strongly.’ He smiled, trying to play the diplomat. ‘So we won’t be needing it after all. But thanks.’

Her eyes began moving quickly from side to side, like she was scanning something, reading it quickly. ‘What? Who? Who is he?’

‘An ex-squaddie. Burns victim, apparently. Was being treated by both Suzanne Perry and Julie Miller.’

Her features became unreadable. ‘How did you . . . how did you find him?’

Phil shrugged. ‘Police work. It’s what we do. So, anyway. Send in your invoice and we’ll get it sorted.’

She stepped closer to him, got right in his face. ‘No.’

Phil stepped back, looked at her, frowned. ‘I’m sorry?’

‘I said no. I’m not going. I won’t go.’

‘Why not?’

‘Because you need me. I’m an integral part of this investigation and you need me. So no. I won’t be got rid off so easily.’

Phil felt anger rise inside him. He had never liked Fiona Welch, never rated her, never even wanted her on the team in the first place. And he was tired of being polite to her.

‘Listen,’ he said, letting his voice be as angry as he could considering where he was, ‘your contribution so far has been to give us a profile that was so inaccurate, so inept, that an innocent man is now on life support because of it.’

‘Innocent?’

‘Well, it’s looking that way, isn’t it?’

‘That’s not my fault.’ Her voice was low, hissing. ‘I provided you with the best profile I could on the information provided. Anyone else would have done the same.’

‘No they wouldn’t. Not anyone. Certainly not anyone competent.’

Her eyes were dancing with anger. It seemed it was all she could do not to physically assault him. ‘Don’t you dare. Don’t you dare say that about me . . .’

Phil was matching her. ‘Good job we didn’t get your geographic profile. Might have sent us looking for someone in Cardiff.’

She stared at him. ‘How dare you.’ Her voice low, ominous. ‘You. A copper. An uneducated copper talking to me like that. How dare you.’ She spat the word ‘uneducated’ at him.

Phil stared at her, struggling to control his temper. ‘Send us an invoice,’ he said and walked away.

Phil walked outside into the car park. He sat on a wall. Sighed.

That went as well as expected
, he thought and shook his head, tried to calm himself, clear Fiona Welch out of it. He was shaking, wanting to do something physical to take her memory away. A heavy workout in the gym or a five-mile run.

He didn’t remember getting his phone out, but there it was, sitting in his hand. Then he found himself dialling the number. And waiting.

And waiting.

Answerphone.

He sighed. ‘Hi, Marina, it’s me. Listen, I know where you are. Bury St Edmunds. It wasn’t hard to work out, I am a detective. And I should have known. Somewhere special. Special for us.’

Another sigh. He kept going.

‘I don’t know what else to say. I’m here. For you. Whatever. I . . . Whatever. Just . . . just call me.’

He hung up. Sat back. Looked at the sky. That beautiful, robin’s egg blue again.

Thought of what to do next. How to move the case along.

He stood up, making his way back inside. Stopped. His phone was ringing. He checked the display.

Marina.

He answered.

‘Hey,’ she said.

73

‘I
s this the one? Are you sure of that?’

Rose Martin sighed. ‘Yes, Ben. Stop being such an . . .’

He summoned a smiled. ‘Old woman?’

‘I was going to say arse, but that’ll do.’

They were standing before Mark Turner’s house on Greenstead Road, Rose knocking once more. They waited.

‘I don’t think he’s in,’ said Fenwick, clearly uncomfortable with what was happening and wanting to walk away.

‘I hope not,’ she said. ‘In fact, I’m counting on it.’

Fenwick’s heart skipped at the words. ‘What d’you mean?’

Rose smiled. ‘I’ve spoken to Mark Turner before. A couple of times. If I speak to him again he’s going to get lawyered up. He threatened to do it last time and then we’ll get nowhere. So we need leverage.’

She dug into her jacket pocket, brought out a memory stick. ‘Let’s make sure he’s got the same photos on his computer. ’ She then brought out a lock pick. Held it up to show to him. Smiled.