The Ring of Death (18 page)

‘Terrible business at my place this morning, George,' Langley said, without preamble.

‘So I've heard,' Baxter replied. ‘But you can rest assured that my officers are doing all they possibly can to get to the bottom of it.'

‘Not the sort of thing a chap expects to find on his morning constitutional,' Langley persisted.

‘I'm sure it isn't.'

‘And the thing is, George, it's slightly unnerved me.'

He
looked
unnerved, Baxter thought. More than that – he looked as if there was something more he wanted to say, but didn't know quite how to say it.

‘Yes, it's rather unnerved me,' Langley repeated. ‘So I was wondering whether it might be possible to give me some police protection for a while.'

‘Police protection?' Baxter said.

‘I've heard a whisper that I might be appointed to the Police Authority next year,' Langley ploughed on. ‘And it certainly wouldn't do
you
any harm to have a friend on that august body, now would it?'

‘I'm still not quite clear what you mean by “police protection”,' Baxter said, with a cautious edge to his voice.

‘Oh, nothing excessive, old chap,' Langley said, attempting to sound airy and casual – and failing on both counts. ‘Nothing excessive at all. Three or four officers should do the trick.'

‘Three or four officers!' Baxter gasped.

‘They'd have to be on duty round the clock, of course,' Langley added hastily, in order to avoid any misunderstanding.

‘You do realize that my force is running a major murder investigation, don't you?' Baxter asked.

‘Yes, I
do
realize that,' Langley said archly. ‘It was finding a corpse in my garden that really alerted me to the fact.'

‘And
because
we're running that investigation, we're already stretched to the limit?'

‘I appreciate you've got a lot of demands on your manpower,' Langley said, in a more conciliatory tone of voice. ‘But it certainly wouldn't help matters, from your point of view, if there was a third victim – especially if that third victim was someone of significance, like me.'

And then he laughed, to show that he was only joking.

‘Do you have any reason to think you might be the killer's next target?' Baxter asked, seriously.

Langley waved his right hand in a deprecating gesture.

‘No, of course not! That's a ridiculous idea.'

‘Then I don't see . . .'

‘Although, when you think about it, the body
was
left on my estate, wasn't it? And so you certainly couldn't blame me for thinking that the killer might have it in for me, could you?'

‘Couldn't I?'

‘Well, no.'

‘I'm afraid I don't see the connection,' Baxter said. ‘Unless, of course, that connection comes through
the victim
. He wasn't a close friend of yours, by any chance, was he?'

‘Of course not. He was a complete stranger to me, as I've already made quite clear to that dishy little policewoman of yours.'

‘I take it that you're referring to Detective Chief Inspector Paniatowski,' Baxter said coldly.

‘Yes, I . . . sorry, I should have shown her more respect, shouldn't I?'

‘It would have been nice,' Baxter agreed. ‘Did you know the other victim? Andy Adair?'

‘Is it likely I'd have known a common soldier?'

‘No, but then it's not likely you'd end up with a naked dead man in your garden, either.'

‘I demand police protection!' Langley blustered. ‘It's my right as a citizen.'

‘If you take that argument to its logical conclusion, I should be assigning three or four of my bobbies to each and every person in Whitebridge,' Baxter pointed out, reasonably.

‘Do I get the protection I need?' Langley demanded. ‘Yes or no?'

‘Yes,' Baxter replied.

‘Good!' Langley said, with obvious relief.

‘Or, at least, you'll get it the moment you can give me a good reason why you
should
have it.'

‘You'll rue the day you crossed me,' Langley said angrily. ‘I have considerable influence in this town, and I'll pay you back for this if it's the last thing I do.'

Baxter smiled, though he knew he shouldn't have. ‘Then you'd better get a move on, hadn't you?' he said.

‘I beg your pardon?'

‘You said you'd pay me back if it was the last thing you did?'

‘Yes?'

‘And if your fears for your own safety are in any way justified, the last thing you do could be just around the corner, couldn't it?'

SIXTEEN

I
t was a quarter past two, and the team had gathered around their usual table in the Drum and Monkey. Paniatowski had already outlined what she had discovered that morning, and now it was her inspector's turn to present his report.

‘Thanks to the work done by Sergeant Cousins' lads, we've got some excellent tyre prints from the van that took Stockwell's body to Ashton Court,' Beresford was saying. ‘Unfortunately, they're unlikely to do us much good, because I firmly believe it was Stockwell's own van that was used, and while the sergeant and I were out at Ashton Court, somebody else – most probably the killer himself – was torching that van. All of which means that that particular line of inquiry—'

‘Hang on a minute!' Paniatowski interrupted. ‘Did you say
you
were out at Ashton Court, Colin?'

‘Err . . . yes, boss.'

‘But I put you in charge of the incident room! What were you doing at Langley's place?'

Beresford shrugged awkwardly. ‘There wasn't much happening back at headquarters, and I thought DS Cousins might need some help.'

‘And
did
you need help, Paul?' Paniatowski asked icily.

‘I didn't exactly
need
it, ma'am, but the inspector's help was certainly
appreciated
,' Cousins said, diplomatically.

‘So just what
kind
of help were you able to offer the sergeant, Inspector Beresford?' Paniatowski asked.

‘I made a mistake,' Colin Beresford thought miserably. ‘I made a big mistake. I'm sorry, Monika.'

‘I questioned the butler,' he said aloud.

‘Really? And was that useful?' Paniatowski asked, unforgiving.

‘He said that after the contract staff left at six o'clock, he and his wife were the only people in the house. He claims they went to bed early, and didn't hear anything during the night, but it's my guess that they were already drunk by the time they turned in, and wouldn't have noticed if a Panzer division had driven through the house.'

‘Would the killer have known they'd be the only people left in the house?' Paniatowski asked Cousins.

‘It's more than likely, if he'd done his homework – and I'm sure he always does,' the sergeant replied. ‘The contract staff are driven to and from the house in a company van, so it wouldn't take a rocket scientist to work out when they weren't there.'

Paniatowski turned her attention to Beresford again. ‘What have your team found out about Stockwell's movements yesterday?' she said. ‘Or have you been so busy with other things that you've not had time to ask them yet?'

‘He was painting a living room in a house up on Hill Rise yesterday afternoon,' Beresford said, ignoring the implied criticism because he didn't know what else to do. ‘The woman he was working for was expecting him to be there until five o'clock, by which time the job should have been completed. But at around about three, Stockwell told her that he had to leave, because he had an important business meeting to attend. She wasn't best pleased, as you'd imagine, but he promised her he'd turn up early this morning and get the job finished.'

‘Did he say who this meeting was with?'

‘No, he didn't. She pressed him to tell her, of course, because she wanted the work finished, but he refused to go into any more detail, and just kept repeating that it was an important business meeting, and he had to leave. I think that was what the killer
told
him to say.'

‘You think it was the killer he was meeting?'

‘Yes, boss, I do.'

‘Why?'

‘Because to have reached the stage of rigor mortis he was in when he was found, he must have been killed within a maximum of two or three hours of leaving Hill Rise.'

‘Good thinking,' Paniatowski said, but she was not quite prepared to let up on him yet, and added, ‘Now if you've managed to find a connection between Stockwell and Langley, I'll be really impressed.'

‘I haven't,' Beresford admitted.

‘I wonder what Langley does on the Thursday nights,' DC Crane said, almost to himself.

‘What was that, Constable?' Paniatowski asked.

‘Well, ma'am, we know that Stockwell went missing on Thursday nights, and we also know, because the Sarge talked to his neighbours, that there were nights when Andy Adair didn't get home until three o'clock in the morning . . .'

‘Were
they
Thursday nights, as well?' Paniatowski asked Cousins.

‘The woman I talked to was a bit vague about what nights they were,' Cousins admitted. ‘But I could try and pin her down.'

‘You do that,' Paniatowski said. She turned to Crane again. ‘Carry on with what you were saying, Jack.'

‘Well, if it
was
Thursdays that Adair got home late,' Crane continued uncertainly, ‘and if Langley
also
went missing on Thursdays . . .'

‘That just might be the link we're looking for,' Paniatowski agreed. ‘Check on that as well, will you, Paul.'

‘Yes, ma'am, I'll do that,' Cousins agreed, but with a notable lack of enthusiasm.

‘You don't think it will lead anywhere, do you?' Paniatowski asked.

Cousins shrugged. ‘I think it was very clever of young Jack to come up with the idea, but I find it hard to picture Stockwell and Langley out on the batter together. I mean, can you really see Langley taking Stockwell clay-pigeon shooting, or Stockwell persuading Langley to join his darts team?'

‘No, I can't,' Paniatowski admitted. ‘Do you have a theory of your own, Sergeant?'

‘I have an
idea
, but it's not as ingenious as DC Crane's, and it's certainly not grand enough to be called a theory,' Cousins said, with some reluctance.

‘Let's hear it, anyway.'

‘I think it's possible the connection between the victims only exists in the killer's own mind.'

‘Go on.'

‘He sees them both – and possibly Langley as well – as
bad
people. In Adair's case, that could be as a result of something he did in Northern Ireland. In Stockwell's, it could be simply be that he used to beat the hell out of his missus.'

‘So you're suggesting that, in his own mind, he sees himself as some kind of vigilante, who's simply punishing people for their wrongdoings?' Monika Paniatowski asked.

‘Essentially, yes,' Cousins agreed.

‘If that's the way he looks at life, he'll have to be a
real
nutter,' Beresford said.

And the moment he spoken the words, he cursed himself – because that just wasn't the kind of thing you should say to a man who'd recently been discharged from a mental institution.

‘It's all right, sir,' Cousins said, reading the inspector's expression. ‘If you all go around walking on egg shells when it comes to my medical history, we'll never get anything done. And I agree with you, he probably
is
a nutter. But that's no serious impediment to being a killer as well. In fact, it might even be a help.'

‘Let's assume you're right,' Beresford said thoughtfully. ‘Why did he leave the bodies where Toynbee and Langley were virtually certain to find them?'

Cousins shrugged again. ‘Maybe he did it as a warning to them. Maybe the message he intended to leave was, “Mend your ways or you could end up like this, too.” '

‘You're forgetting our very good friend Mr Forsyth,' Paniatowski pointed out. ‘He's not here because of some nutter – he's here because he thinks he's protecting our national security.' She turned to Crane again. ‘What's Forsyth been doing this morning, Jack?'

‘He had a leisurely breakfast in his room, and then he went for a stroll,' Crane said.

‘A stroll?'

‘That's what I'd call it, ma'am. He was ambling along as if he had all the time in the world. Then he went into St Martin's Church, which is one of the best examples of Victorian Gothic . . . I mean, which some people say is a very interesting church. And Mr Forsyth really
did
seem interested in it. After that, he went to the museum. And now he's having lunch in the Royal Victoria.'

‘Do you think he knew he was being followed?'

‘I'm no expert on these kinds of things, ma'am.'

‘Take a guess.'

‘In spy films, when somebody thinks they're being followed, they look over their shoulders to catch a sight of their tail, or else come to an unexpected stop to see what the tail will do. But there was none of that with Mr Forsyth.'

‘So just what bloody game
is
the bastard playing? Paniatowski asked, exasperatedly.

‘You could always ask him, boss,' Beresford suggested.

‘Oh, don't you worry about that, I'm going to, right after the press conference,' Paniatowski told him. ‘But whether he'll give me a straight answer to a straight question is another matter entirely.'