The Judgement Book (19 page)

The detective walked out of the door and disappeared around the corner of the street. Dan tried to continue eating in what he hoped was a nonchalant manner. He felt as if he was being watched and struggled to resist the temptation to keep looking around. He scanned through one of the papers he’d taken from the rack, but couldn’t concentrate on any of the stories. He noticed his hands were shaking.

Around him, life continued, oblivious. Lawyers gossiped, shoppers strolled by, the bar rumbled with a dozen different conversations. In a few moments, that would all change. If he was right.

If.

Adam walked back into the bar and sat down. ‘Sorted,’ he said. ‘Sorry about that. Now, where were we? Oh yes, that’s what I meant to ask you. Annie said would like you to pop round for dinner one evening soon.’

He wrote,
3 cops, 5 mins, what we do when they arrive?
on the paper and slid it back over to Dan.

‘Sure, that sounds good,’ he replied. ‘Work permitting, of course.’

Dan wrote,
Run out, pull them in here, follow me, do it fast
and slipped the paper back to Adam. He saw the detective flinch and grit his teeth. His look said – this had better be good.

‘OK, work permitting of course,’ Adam said lightly. ‘When do you think is best?’

‘Next week probably. This week looks busy.’

‘How about a weekend? I can usually guarantee to have at least one day off, and that also gives Annie more time to cook. You can come play football with me and Tom for a bit too. He’s getting too good for just me alone.’

‘Erm, yeah, a weekend would probably be best,’ Dan managed. ‘Shall we go for the Saturday after this one? I don’t think I’ve got anything planned.’

‘Sure. I’ll check with Annie when I get home.’

They stared at each other. Both had stopped eating and looked blank. Dan couldn’t think of a thing to say. He could see Adam was having the same problem. In a career full of hollow conversations, desperately pretending to be interested in dull and pompous interviewees and filling time in outside broadcasts, this was probably the worst of all the charades.

‘I’m not so keen on nuts,’ Dan said finally. ‘If Annie’s cooking, that’s the only thing I don’t like.’

A police car drew up outside. Adam jumped up from his chair, walked quickly to the door and beckoned the officers in.

‘Where’s Sarah?’ Dan asked the blonde young woman behind the bar.

‘Upstairs, doing the books,’ she said. ‘Can I get her for you?’

‘No, you stay there and don’t move. Urgent police business. You’ll be arrested if you try to contact her. Which way upstairs?’

The woman gulped, pointed hesitantly to a door at the end of the bar. Dan strode towards it and pushed it gently open. A flight of wooden stairs led upwards. He leaned in, listened for any movement, but there was no sound.

‘What the hell are we doing?’ asked Adam. The three police officers stood behind him, looking puzzled. Diners had stopped eating and were watching them. Heads turned. Fingers began to point. The bar had gone quiet. They had to move fast.

‘I think we might have found your Worm,’ said Dan quietly, looking at the stairs. He watched Adam’s mouth slip slowly open. ‘Up there.’

‘You’re joking.’

‘Nope. Just a guess, but a decent one. The stairs are going to be noisy, so I suggest we rush it if you want to catch her in the act. You’re the cop, you’d better go first.’

Adam looked at the stairs and loosened his tie. Around them the entire bar silently stared.

‘Jesus, Dan! If you’re wrong, we’re going to look bloody fools at the very least. In fact, it’ll probably be another complaint against me. Are you serious?’

Dan tried to keep his voice calm. ‘I’m totally serious. And the longer we wait, the less likely we are to get her.’

Slow seconds slid past. In the bar a mobile phone rang, but went unanswered.

Adam let out a strange low groan, then beckoned to the police officers. He bounded up the stairs, taking them two at a time. Dan followed, feeling his heart start to race with the sudden effort. The officers tailed behind him, their heavy feet thumping and clattering on the bare wood.

They rounded a corner in the stairwell. It was half lit, curls of paint peeling, and it smelt musty. Ahead, Adam stumbled and bounced off a wall. He gasped, but didn’t slow.

They emerged into a corridor, a worn old carpet stretching along the floor, a couple of doors either side. Both were closed. Through an open door further ahead they could see an unmade bed and a jumbled pile of clothes.

Adam didn’t hesitate. He tried the door on the left. It opened easily and he lurched in. Some cardboard boxes, brown and dusty, a jumble of beer pumps and piping, a ramshackle pile of files. An old fruit machine. A mirror, grey with cobwebs filled with their panting, sweating reflections.

Adam scanned the room, then spun around and pushed at the other door. It opened and he strode through. Dan followed, just feet behind. The room was gloomy, some old carpet rolled up in a corner, more cardboard boxes. They were full of crisps, a range of exotic flavours, all chilli and curry. Above the boxes he saw a table at the far end, right in the corner.

Sitting there, wearing a pair of headphones and bent over a notebook, was Sarah. She looked up at them. They stared at each other, just stared. The room was silent, still.

Slow seconds ticked past. Dan felt himself tense, preparing for the fight, ready for her to try to run. He quickly checked behind him. The line of cops was there, waiting. There were no other exits. There was nowhere for her to go.

She was trapped. They had her. They’d caught their blackmailer.

Still the quiet enveloped them. Still Sarah stared. Dan couldn’t read her expression, wondered what she was going to do. The frozen moment stretched on.

Then, at last, she broke it, in a way they could never have expected.

Sarah’s face stretched into a great, beaming smile, and she burst out laughing.

Chapter
Seventeen

N
EVER HAD
D
AN SEEN
someone so delight in her crimes.

He wondered if the interview room, with all its long experience of a parade of criminals, from the most minor of shoplifters and graffiti artists, to some of the most notorious murderers the South-west had seen, could ever have known such an extraordinary series of ecstatic outpourings.

Sarah sat at the small wooden table, fixed firmly to the floor by thick metal bolts, and looked perfectly relaxed. Sometimes she leaned forwards and laced her fingers together, at others she leant back on the chair and crossed her legs. There was none of the slumped despair Dan had seen here so many times before, nor the screamed or snarled abuse of rage and fear.

The room was in the basement of Charles Cross, the only natural light a pathetic seepage from the small barred and opaque rectangular glass window, high up on the far wall. A fluorescent tube cast a sterile, flickering green-edged glow directly over the table and stretched grey shadows around it.

The floor was grainy with its brushed concrete, the walls cheaply whitewashed brick, fading and rallying in random patches of shade and light. Words echoed back and forth from the stark interior like secret whispers, passing on the details of the interrogation. The room was never anything other than cold, even on the hottest of days. It felt forsaken, the start of a journey that led inevitably to prison, usually for long years, sometimes for life.

It was a place designed for despair. But not today.

Sarah had readily confessed and seemed to be enjoying immensely the chance to explain how and why she’d carried out her plan. She’d laughed at Adam’s question about whether she felt any guilt for the two people who had killed themselves because of what she’d done. It was another wild outburst of rocking, near hysterical laughter, which had left Adam nonplussed and made the detective leave the room to take a break before he went on with his questioning.

The Custody Sergeant had raised the question of whether Sarah was mentally ill. Adam sighed, added a couple of creative profanities and some of his forthright opinions about the law being more interested in the villain than victim, but reluctantly agreed to Silifant being called.

The doctor talked to Sarah for half an hour, then emerged from the cell with his verdict.

‘She’s perfectly fine. She’s just enjoying her moment. There’s a bit of release of tension at being caught, but that’s perfectly natural. Common reaction.’ He’d rolled his bloodshot eyes at Adam and added, ‘Since this time you haven’t managed to present me with your traditional options of efficiency of death or degree of pain to mark, I’ll give you eight out of ten on the pointless call-out scale.’

The doctor was gone before Adam could find a rejoinder.

Dan stood by the door in the corner of the room, Adam sat at the table opposite Sarah. A recording machine, built into the wall beside him, clicked softly. Sarah yawned, making Adam look up from his notes.

‘So where’s this Judgement Book, Sarah?’ he asked.

‘I can’t tell you that, Adam,’ she replied calmly.

‘Why not? It’s all over. You might as well tell us.’

She leaned back from the table and angled her head.

‘That’s rather a sweeping assumption, isn’t it? That it’s all over.’

‘Isn’t it?’

‘We’ll have to wait and see. You never know what the Judgement Book might do next. It’s filled with depravity. And that makes it very dangerous.’

‘How many other people’s secrets are in there, Sarah?’

‘I can’t tell you that either.’

‘Why not?’

‘Because it would spoil the fun. You’ve got the clues to find it. I suggest you keep trying.’

‘But we’ve only got three, and there are supposed to be five, aren’t there? And as you’re here, there aren’t going to be any more of your poisonous little notes. So why don’t you just tell us? I can make sure the judge knows and it goes in your favour when you’re sentenced.’

‘Another sweeping assumption, Adam. That there aren’t going to be any more notes.’

‘But how can there be? Have you left something behind? Did you plan to get caught?’

‘We’ll have to wait and see.’

Adam sighed heavily. ‘You’re not making this any easier for yourself, Sarah. You’re facing a long prison sentence, you know. We can make it as short as possible if you cooperate.’

‘I’m relaxed about my fate, Adam. I think I’ve achieved something.’

‘What?’

‘A little justice. Probably more so than you do in your job.’

‘By driving people to kill themselves?’

Now, for the first time, Sarah’s voice rose. ‘Osmond isn’t dead, is he? Would you have uncovered his crimes? I don’t think so. What happened to the others was not expected, but in a way they’ve purged themselves. Wouldn’t you say we’re better off without lying, hypocritical perverts like Freedman?’

Adam’s voice hardened too. ‘What about Linda Cott? She was a colleague of mine. A good woman with a fine reputation.’

‘I don’t think you know her very well at all, Adam, do you? Don’t you believe what I put in her little note?’

‘We haven’t recovered your note to Linda yet. What was it you had over her?’

‘I thought you said you had three of the clues, Adam?’

‘She left us the answer, but not the note. What was it you taunted her with that was too horrible for her to let us see, Sarah?’

‘I’ll wait for you to work that one out, Adam. But I can guarantee you’ll find the answer shocking.’

Silence. Adam glared at her, then sighed again and sat forwards so he was just inches from Sarah’s face. Dan could see the detective’s neck reddening, a sure sign he was angry and struggling to control it.

‘We know how you got Osmond, Sarah. You bugged a conversation between him and his wife, while they were having a meal in the Judge.’

‘Well done, Adam,’ she said condescendingly. ‘Very good.’

‘When he drove home again, despite being well over the limit. It wasn’t the first time, was it? And when his wife tried to stop him, he shouted her down, saying if he was stopped he could always make sure the cop concerned turned a blind eye. Just like the last time.’

‘Very good indeed Adam. That’s exactly right. So I challenge you to tell me we’re not better off with Osmond being exposed for what he is. And who would have done it if I hadn’t? Would you?’

Adam ignored the question. ‘Is that how you got the others too? How many tables did you bug, Sarah? You couldn’t do all of them, surely?’

‘Two was enough Adam. The two best tables in the place. You see, that’s the great thing about the pompous. They always want the best table.’

‘We know how you got Osmond. What about Freedman?’

She smiled. ‘It’s all so painfully predictable Adam. He came in for a meal with an old friend. They had a few too many drinks and like little boys started boasting about some of the things they’d done. He spewed out the whole tale about the schoolgirl prostitute beautifully. He could hardly contain his excitement.’

‘And Linda Cott? She came in to the Judge as well?’

‘Yes indeed, Adam.’

‘And what did she talk about that you used against her?’

‘Good try, but we’ve discussed that. It’s up to you to find out.’

‘Come on, Sarah, it hardly matters now. Linda’s dead and we’ve caught you. You might as well tell us.’

‘Not yet, Adam. Let’s say it’s another of the riddles you have to solve.’

Adam sighed again, but kept his voice calm. ‘I’ll ask you this then. How many people are in your Judgement Book, Sarah?’

‘You know, Adam, I’ve lost count. Quite a few. It seems everyone has their little secrets. Even I was surprised how fast the Book became gorged. You’ll know when you find it. You might get a few surprises too. It’s quite a read.’

Sarah was nodding now, the smile growing on her face. There was something wrong, Dan sensed it. She was too sure of herself, too confident.

Adam stared at her. A vein ticked angrily in his cheek. ‘Like what? What surprises?’

She raised her eyebrows. ‘Just think about yourself, Adam. You always wanted the best table too, didn’t you? Loose talk about breaking the law to catch a rapist, giving away the address of a senior police officer to get him off your tail … that kind of thing can cause you real trouble. I would have thought an experienced detective like yourself would have known better.’

Dan caught his breath. He waited for the reaction from Adam. He could see his friend was surprised, but was trying not to show it.

‘And you too, Dan Groves,’ Sarah added, looking over at him. ‘You’ve conspired with Adam here in ways which wouldn’t do your professional reputation any good, would they? I doubt you could carry on as a journalist if the public knew how close you were to the police and how they use you. Not that you seem to mind. You play along very happily. In fact … some of the little schemes are all down to you, aren’t they?’

Dan didn’t know what to say. He glanced at Adam.

‘That’s enough of your crap, Sarah,’ the detective spat, sitting back on his chair and placing his hands on his hips. ‘You have nothing against us, and we are not part of this investigation. Now, back to where this bloody book is.’

Sarah shook her head, the smile never slipping. ‘You know, you might just come to find you are a part of the investigation, Adam. What a lovely twist to the story it would be if both you and Dan were in the Judgement Book. You’ve had enough intimate conversations in the Ginger Judge to qualify yourselves eminently, haven’t you?’

Adam jumped up from his chair. It screeched backwards and looked about to topple over. He shot out a fast hand, caught it, leaned forwards, into her face.

‘Enough of your crap, Sarah. This is over.’ His finger jabbed out at her, but she didn’t flinch. ‘You’re caught, you’re going to jail for a bloody long time, and there’ll be no more of your sick little notes.’

Sarah leaned back on her chair, laced her hands behind her head. She gave him a knowing wink.

‘We’ll see, Adam, eh? We’ll see.’

They walked upstairs to the canteen for a cup of coffee. Dan’s mind wouldn’t let go of what Sarah had said. He tried desperately to remember exactly what he and Adam had talked about in the Judge.

They’d mentioned the rapist case, but in enough detail for her to know what they meant? He couldn’t avoid the conclusion the answer was yes. And what had they discussed during the other times they’d been in? Osmond certainly, and that was enough to end Adam’s career. She was right about Dan’s future too. If it all got out, his credibility would be destroyed. Lizzie would be forced to sack him.

Adam was striding hard up the stairs, taking them two at a time. ‘Bloody woman,’ he grunted under his breath. ‘Cold, callous, scheming bloody woman.’

He sat down at the canteen table furthest from the door. Dan took the hint and got the drinks.

‘There you go, two coffees,’ he said, sitting beside Adam.

‘Bloody woman,’ the detective growled again. ‘She got to me there and I should never let that happen. I hadn’t thought she could have anything on me.’

‘On us.’

Adam looked up from his drink. ‘Yes,’ he said, more gently. ‘On us. Sorry.’

They sipped at their drinks. Adam began picking little semicircles from the paper rim of his cup.

‘She’s bluffing,’ said Dan finally. He knew his voice sounded more hopeful than convincing. ‘She’s in here, locked up. What else can she do?’

‘I’d like to think you’re right,’ Adam replied. ‘But she’s planned this bloody well so far. And she’s been ahead of us all the way. It was only luck and your weird imagination that got her. I can’t help but think she must have had a plan in case she was caught. Look at the clues and taunts she left for us. Fried shark and pigs! Evil bloody woman.’

Dan hesitated to ask, but knew he had to. ‘Like what? What kind of plan?’

‘I have no idea.’ Adam stood up, straightened his jacket. ‘But I’m going to find out. Let’s go and talk to her again. And this time, no being sidetracked by her taunts.’

They found Sarah standing by the tiny opaque window, staring up at it.

‘Saying goodbye to the world for a few years?’ asked Adam, sitting back at the table. ‘We can make that time as short as possible if you start cooperating with us.’

She turned and again smiled at him, but this time more wistfully.

‘You know, I’m really not sure I’ll miss it out there. It’s a rotten place. If you’d heard all that I have over the past few months, you’d wonder if there were any decent people left. Everyone carries an invisible stain, Adam. It comes from their moment of submission to their weakness. And it lives with them in disgust, or regret, or rage. I think I’ve come to see it in people’s faces now. Everyone’s marked with it.’

‘Is that how long it’s been going on, Sarah? Your listening in to people’s conversations? Months?’

‘Yes, Adam, I can tell you that. It’s been going on for months.’

‘Ever since you’ve been running the Ginger Judge?’

‘Not quite. A little while after that.’

‘Why?’

Sarah looked at Adam, then back out of the window. She stretched up a hand to touch the thick, dusty glass.

‘Why?’ asked Adam again. ‘What started it all?’

‘I don’t think I can tell you that yet. You’ll know soon enough.’

‘Is that a threat?’

‘No, no. Just a fact. I’ll happily tell you when the time is right.’

Adam looked over at Dan, tilted his head towards Sarah. He walked to the table and stood beside the detective.

‘Is it an establishment thing, Sarah?’ Dan asked. ‘I remember one conversation when you talked about how difficult it was to be in business with all the regulations the government heaped on you. As far as I can see, all your victims have been establishment figures. So is that what it’s all about? Hitting back?’

She turned to look at him. ‘I was wondering when you were going to chip in, Dan. I know from your conversations how much Adam relies on you. While we’re talking about memories, I recall one time when he told you that you were much better at the psychological bit than he was. The understanding why people do the things they do. So is it my turn to be the subject of your famous insights? You certainly do have that knack of making people talk to you. I felt it myself on a couple of occasions and had to be careful about going too far.’