Tarot's Touch (21 page)

He sounded a little embarrassed so Alex tried to project encouragement down the phone. “Okay, that’s a good ambition to have. So, what happened?”

“Well, I was out on my usual beat last night. I took a walk past Arcania because it’s not far off my route. It’s all closed up, of course, now that the owners have been arrested, but there was a car idling at the curb close to the shop. No one has any reason to be down that road at night. I thought it might be someone thinking about robbing the place. Anyway, I asked the driver if he needed any help. He shot away as if the devil was on his tail.”

“Get to the point, Matt.” Alex turned back to face the desk, extricated his fingers from the phone wire and drummed out a rhythm on the wood.

“Sorry, sir. I didn’t get much of a look at the driver, but I’m pretty convinced that I saw his picture on your incident board. Bloke with an attitude, beard, dark eyes…?” His voice trailed off.

Alex took a breath. He didn’t think that PC Naylor was the type to ring for nothing—he seemed to have good instincts.

“Please tell me you got the registration, Matt?”

“Yes, sir. Reg, make, model, anything I could remember. I wrote it all down. There’s a CCTV camera farther down the street that might have caught something too.”

“Okay. Are you at work?”

“Yes, sir. I came in a bit early to catch up on some paperwork before I go out later.”

“You’re based at Dorset Street, aren’t you?”

“That’s right.”

“Good. Put me through to your watch commander. I’m going to need to borrow you for a while. Then lose the uniform and get over here.”

Alex spent the next five minutes outlining the situation to a confused sergeant at the station across town. He managed to convince the man that losing one of his beat officers for the night was not the end of the world, slammed the phone down, then went to brief his team. After a short sharp explanation, he set Pete on running the registration plates and Phil on obtaining CCTV footage from the council security team. He kept his fingers crossed that this was one of those precious moments where an over-confident criminal had made a stupid error.

Alex examined the incident board carefully, sure he was missing something. When Conor came and stood next to him, he longed to take his hand and give it a squeeze.

“There has to be something we’re not seeing.”

Higgs wandered across and joined them.

“Let’s go from the top. Conor, take us through the board.”

“Okay.” Conor stepped forward and pointed to the first picture, which showed the burnt out shell of Leather and Lace. “First we have the arson. Leather and Lace was torched in revenge for the owner, Sam Teller, leaving his wife for a man, Toby Walsh.” Conor gestured to pictures of the two men. “Then, Sam Teller becomes the first victim of the tarot killer. We assume that the crimes have been committed by the same person because of the link. This assumption gains credibility when victim two, Adrian Hamilton, turns out to have been a guest at the shop opening.” He paused then tapped the picture of Jemima Muir. “Jemima Muir, nee Ellison, owner of Arcania and Amanda Teller’s sister. Married to Sid Muir, who has a record of violence. She was also named as the Queen of Cups in Adrian Hamilton’s files and he was investigating a criminal ring of fraudsters operating as tarot readers and the like. That gave us another link between the arson and the murders. It looked obvious that the Muirs were guilty of both crimes.”

“Too obvious,” Alex muttered.

“Then another tarot card arrives while the Muirs are in custody. So…we have our arsonists, but not the murderer.”

Alex rolled his shoulders. “I think that we need to go back to the party at Leather and Lace. Our murderer is not stupid. I think he may have spoken to Adrian Hamilton at the party. If Hamilton had a loose tongue after all the drink, he may have boasted about his investigation.”

Higgs nodded. “That takes us back to the two men on Conor’s list, the two we haven’t been able to track down.”

“It was definitely him. I’m sure of it.”

Alex turned to find Matt Naylor at his shoulder.

“PC Naylor, thanks for getting over here so fast.” He did a quick round of introductions.

“Are you absolutely certain?” Alex checked.

“Yes.” Naylor stabbed at the picture of the bearded man with a finger. “That’s the driver of the car that I saw near Arcania.”

“The plates on the car have come back as false, sir,” Pete shouted from across the room. “But we got the CCTV footage. Thank God for digital.”

Matt got out his notepad and flipped it open. “The car was an Audi A5. Silver. Didn’t notice any mods. There was a silver charm hanging from the rear-view mirror.” He showed Alex the shape he had sketched, a circle with a lightning bolt through it.

Alex’s blood ran cold. “I recognize that symbol.” He moved to the nearest computer and started tapping frantically on the keyboard, bringing up the criminal database. “Name, name, name… What the hell was it…? Derek, Damien….no…Desmond! Shane Desmond!” Triumphantly he found the record and printed off a copy of the man’s picture. The others gathered round as he pinned it next to the photo on the incident board.

“It’s him!” Conor spoke first. “Younger, no beard, but it’s definitely the same guy in both pictures. He must have dyed his hair, as well. Who is he?”

“Higgs, you must remember. It was years ago. He was the leader of that weird cult down Glastonbury way. Anti-gay, anti-black, anti anything that didn’t conform to their code. We got him on gun trafficking but suspected him of a lot worse. He went down for seven years. That lightning symbol was all over the place they used as their headquarters.”

Higgs nodded. “You’re right. He’d be out now with time off for good behavior.”

The CCTV footage didn’t show them anything that they didn’t already know, but now that Alex recognized the man, he could easily see past the beard and mustache in the grainy images.

“Well, now we know who he is, let’s get an address.”

“On it, boss.”

Alex grinned. The satisfaction of finding a new lead had everyone motivated.

Conor nudged him and drew him away from the others a little. “You know what this means, don’t you?” His face was pale and his voice trembled. “It means that this guy is after
you
.”

Alex rested a calming hand on Conor’s shoulder. “Stop worrying. Desmond is all kinds of crazy and that gives us an advantage. He’s clever, but he’s an exhibitionist and that makes him careless.”

“The hit and run was meant for you.”

“I don’t think so. The best way for Desmond to get at me is through you. It would have taken him about five minutes to work that out. I’d bet good money that it was him following you the day you bought the tarot cards at Arcania. It’s why you’ve been getting the letters and why the van hit you. I don’t think he meant to kill you either. He was just making the point that he could.”

Conor sighed. “Some days I hate this job. How many more psychos are there in your past?” He didn’t wait for an answer but headed back to his desk. Alex watched him go, wishing that he could give him a hug.

Within half an hour, the team had identified an address for Shane Desmond, gathered a team of uniformed officers to assist with the arrest and were on their way in a couple of unmarked cars. Desmond’s home was on a quiet country lane a couple of miles outside the town. The car and van carrying the team stopped down the lane. It was dusk and there was no street lighting so it was getting a bit hard to see. The rambling, run-down house had a garden full of rusting abandoned cars and some old corrugated sheds. The paint on the main building was peeling and guttering hung loose in a couple of spots. The place was a wreck.

Using hand signals to direct his men, Alex got them to fan out around the property and cover the exits as best they could. A single light glimmered in an upstairs room then abruptly went out. Alex, Conor and Matt froze in their positions near the front of the house. Alex gestured and they crept closer. A loud crash and the sound of breaking glass pulled his attention to the side of the building. A man leaped from a window and ran for the trees. The need for silence gone, Alex barked out, “Get after him!”

Conor and Matt were first in pursuit, long legs eating up the ground. Alex would have preferred to lock Conor in the car but knew he had to let him go. He turned his attention to the house. A sharp kick was enough to push in the rotten front door. The smell of damp and decay assailed his nostrils as he pushed his way inside with a couple of constables close behind him. Focusing on the needs of the search of the premises let him push Conor to a corner of his mind. Conor was a good detective. He would be fine—nothing else was acceptable.

* * * *

The terrain was horrendously difficult to run through. The scraggy woodland was littered with fallen branches. Debris and brambles caught at Conor’s clothes. Matt Naylor ran a few yards to Conor’s left, Higgs was somewhere behind them and two uniformed officers had taken a wider track to try to circle around the fugitive. Conor could see that they were gaining on the stumbling figure in front of them and called out, “Stop! Police!” The command rang out loud and clear but had no effect. Conor swore as a branch raked his face, slowing him down momentarily.

Desmond tripped, righted himself then ran again, but Conor and Matt reached him before he could get any distance on them. Matt took a flying dive, grabbed the man’s ankles and they both crashed to the ground. Conor scrambled over them, grabbed Desmond’s arms and had him in cuffs with a knee in his back before he could draw enough breath to curse them. He and Matt exchanged a smile between gasps for air.

“What it is to be young and fit.” Sergeant Higgs wheezed up next to them.

“Well done, boys. Nice job.”

Conor hauled the guy to his feet and shoved him back toward the house while Higgs read him his rights.

“Where’s the boss, Sarge?” Conor asked as they made their way back through the woods.

“He seemed to think the two of you could cope and took the rest of the team into the house.”

Conor smiled to himself—it was nice to know that Alex did sometimes remember that he was quite a good policeman.

He handed Desmond over to two uniformed officers waiting outside the house then made his way through the hall and up the rickety stairs. He found Alex searching a bedroom. A half-packed duffel bag sat on the unmade bed. Cupboard doors and drawers stood open.

“Looks like we worked it out just in time, sir. Desmond was about to run, wasn’t he?”

Alex turned. “Fuck, Conor, you’re bleeding.” Alex’s hands were immediately on his face, checking the wound.

“It’s just a scratch. I got attacked by a tree.”

Alex visibly relaxed and gave Conor’s hair a quick stroke. “You got him okay?”

“Sure. Matt Naylor must play rugby. He did an amazing flying tackle.”

“That lad would make a good addition to the team…”

“That would be great, I really like him.”

“And you wouldn’t be the baby anymore.”

Conor smiled shyly. “Well, there is that.”

Alex chuckled. “Well, I think we can leave this place to the SOCO. Let’s go and round up the others.”

They left the room as it was and went downstairs and back out to the garden. Alex picked a couple of men to wait at the house for the crime scene team and the rest of them packed into their vehicles and headed back to the station.

* * * *

The little convoy of vehicles pulled up outside the station and everyone piled out. Conor stared at Desmond as he was escorted inside, wondering about his motivation for committing such terrible crimes. The man showed no emotion as Higgs booked him in and took him away to an interrogation room.

“I’m going to join Higgs and conduct the interrogation,” Alex said. “The rest of you are free to go on home.”

He left Conor and the rest of the team in the incident room. There was a sense of quiet celebration in the office. It was late but no one wanted to leave. They needed to know that the case was closed, Conor most of all.

It was close to midnight before Alex returned, looking tense and exhausted.

“He’s confessed to both murders… You can crack open the orange juice.” Alex’s smile didn’t reach his eyes.

Conor cheered with the others but he spotted that all was not well with the man he loved. Alex was far too subdued for someone who had just cracked two major cases. It was time to go home and get the full story. They stayed long enough to share a celebratory drink before slipping quietly away.

It wasn’t until they were home, showered and tucked up in bed that Conor asked the question. “So, are you going to tell me why he did it?” He snuggled his head into Alex’s shoulder and waited patiently.

Alex ruffled his hair. “You were right, love. This was about me. I was Desmond’s target and two innocent people died because of it.”

Conor tensed at his words then hugged him tightly. “Tell me. It will help.”

Alex sighed. “Desmond was released from prison a year ago. He’d served his sentence and despite concerns about his mental state, they let him go. He came back here specifically to kill me and he took his time planning it. It wasn’t enough to get me—he had to play games along the way.”

Alex tightened his grip on Conor’s hair a little. “He was at the opening party for Leather and Lace, as you know. While he was there, he got talking to Adrian Hamilton who told him about his investigation into the tarot fraudsters. That gave him the seed of an idea and when the shop went up in flames, he saw it as the perfect opportunity to frame someone. Who it was made no difference to him.”

Alex shifted his weight and hugged Conor tighter. “He wanted to distract us, but also build a case against someone else. Only Sam Teller and Adrian Hamilton could identify him. After the fire, Sam was the ideal first victim. Desmond knew we would link the arson and murder and then follow that track. He had to get rid of Hamilton because he would have been able to tell us about the questions Desmond had been asking at the opening. It was pure coincidence that Sam Teller turned out to be related to the subject of Hamilton’s exposé. When we arrested the arsonists, Desmond must have known that it was only a matter of time before they convinced us that they weren’t murderers. The third tarot card was a warning—an arrogant fucking declaration of intent. He failed with the hit and run—you were right, he did think that you were me—and I dread to think what might have happened if Matt Naylor hadn’t had his wits about him on his beat last night. Desmond could have got clean away and carried on plotting.” He shuddered. “It was a bit too close for comfort, love. I can’t get the ‘what ifs’ out of my mind.”