You should study your city and seek out a shop,
The next of my chosen will be a big shock.
I’m enjoying myself, playing this game,
And it would be all too easy to give you a name.
It’s time to detect, and study the clues,
Be sure to keep up, otherwise you’ll lose.
“He’s a crafty bugger, is this one,” said Fettle. “You’ll have a job and a half if you don’t know what he looks like.”
Gardener sighed, frustrated. “Give forensics a call, Sean. Let’s have them check this out. Do you recognise the rope, Mr Fettle?”
The old man was about to reach inside, but Gardener stopped him. “Looks like one of ours.”
Gardener picked it up. One end had been cut. It didn’t take a genius to realise that the other section had to be the one used to hang Leonard White.
He had evidence bags in the car. He dropped the rope, left the lid open, and turned to walk back out of the room. Before doing so he glanced at Fettle.
“One more question, Mr Fettle. Have you ever heard of an Inspector Burke?”
Fettle appeared deep in thought. “Inspector Burke,” he repeated. “Can’t say as I have. What makes you ask?”
“Just curious,” said Gardener.
Chapter Sixteen
Early evening back at the incident room, Gardener was still shocked by the apparent ease with which the killer had carried out his actions against Leonard White. The man had oozed confidence, as if being caught was completely unheard of. Or equally as bad, the prospect of capture didn’t bother him. Perhaps it was a mission. Maybe when it was over he would do one of two things: disappear forever, or hand himself in.
The little to no evidence was frustrating, and it was beginning to feel like a conspiracy that no one ever noticed anything: vans, registration plates, logos. Gardener’s only consolation was the few items he and Reilly had managed to collect. The DVD of Inspector Burke, the new puzzle, and the rest of the rope. He was well aware of the mounting pressure to find answers, not to mention the person responsible.
Gardener addressed his team. “Sean and I have uncovered some disturbing evidence relating to the case. If and when the press get hold of it, we’re going to come under intense scrutiny from the public, particularly if he kills again. We know that whoever the killer is, he either bears a strong resemblance to White or he’s a master of disguise. The receptionist at The Manor House near Skipton said Leonard White was picked up on Friday by a chauffeur from Executive Cars, who had used the excuse that his wife had been taken ill and the car had been laid on for him. We’ve checked and there is no such company. So, where did the car come from? And where is it now?”
“What make of car was it?” one of the assembled officers inquired.
“The receptionist doesn’t know,” replied Gardener. “The hotel doesn’t have CCTV, they don’t feel the need. We have a guest list, so I’d like a couple of you to follow it up, see if anyone can help.”
Gardener continued with the briefing. “The following morning, yesterday, the staff at The Manor House had a visit from the police.” He let the remark sink in while glancing around the room, studying the expressions of his team.
“I know what you’re thinking, you’re trying to work out if anyone else has been there apart from us. Well, it wasn’t any of you. It was, in fact, an Inspector Burke.”
“Inspector Burke?” repeated Briggs.
“Sean.” Gardener glanced at his colleague and passed over the disc. “Will you do the honours?” As the DVD played, Gardener was amazed that he hadn’t realised the small segment of film had actually been recorded in black and white.
“Is that him?” said Briggs.
“Looks like it,” replied Reilly.
“He looks familiar.”
“The actor, you mean?” asked Gardener, wondering what Briggs was thinking.
“Yes.” But his superior didn’t elaborate. “He must be bloody confident to play tricks like this. And he’s thought it out as well. Any idea where that is?”
“No,” said Gardener. “If you look closely, the background is out of focus. Maybe our lads can clean it up a little bit. Even if they do, I don’t think it will show us much.”