When Evil Wins (20 page)

Janus sat down in the Estuary café near the police station; the morning's events had shaken him badly. He ordered a coffee.

The police now had him in their sights as the person responsible for the fire at Richard's house and the deaths of Stephanie and her nanny. He sighed, all this before ten in the morning. He took out his mobile phone and pressed the speed dial for Richard, expecting the voice mail to kick in again, as it had done on every other occasion he'd attempted to contact his boss.

“Richard Jameson,” Richard answered.

“Richard, at last, it's Janus. I'm so sorry.”

“Janus, my friend; you’ve heard then?”

“Yes. I'm truly sorry. Is there anything I can do?”

“Not really. Liz is being taken to the mental hospital shortly…”

“Mental hospital?” Janus said, aghast.

“Yes, she's had a breakdown. Stephanie was everything to her and her one and only chance at motherhood. Now that has been taken from her.”

“Richard, if only I could change things. It's my fault.”

“What on earth are you talking about, Janus?”

“That note, Richard. I shouldn't have given you my manuscript.”

“What do you mean? What note?”

“The one at the restaurant, it wasn't for you, it was for me.”

Richard recalled the lunch at the Royal Dragon, and the note, '
If you carry on publishing work of this kind expect an accident within your family
'. “Don't be daft, Janus. That was just a stupid prank, besides you don't have any family,” Richard said bluntly.

“No, but since you took me on and took me in, you and your family, and Mandy, have been the nearest thing to a family I've had. And Mandy, she was the closest thing to a sister I ever had.”

“I see what you're saying; but I'm not convinced…” Richard's voice trailed away. “Janus, I've got to go, I've got to settle Liz in the hospital and the doctor's just arrived.”

“One thing, Richard.”

“Quickly then, Janus.”

“I should have helped Stephanie. I had a vision about what happened. I saw it.”

“Did your vision show you a date, a time?”

“No,” Janus replied.

“I know you have abilities, Janus, and I know they're sometimes helpful to you. But if you didn't know the day then there was nothing you could have done. Believe me, Janus, none of this is your fault. Okay? Do you understand that?”

“Yes, Richard,” Janus answered flatly, his feeling of guilt almost assuaged.

“Janus, I must go. Liz needs me.” Richard put the phone down.

Janus was glad for what his boss had said but it hardly touched the guilt he was feeling about the loss of the Jameson's only child.

Janus decided to walk back to his flat, it wasn’t far and he needed time to think to make up his mind about what he would do next.

He was still deep in thought when he got to the entrance and didn't notice the two men sitting in the car opposite. He opened the door and entered; walking slowly up the stairs to his first floor flat.

Janus knew he needed to make contact with the spirit once more, just to find out what he had missed when the police had interrupted his séance. He quickly walked around his room closing the blinds, turning the radio on, before finally sitting back down on his sofa; a hissing gently filling the room.

“
My guide of guides, please find the spirit of Arthur Doyle. It is necessary that I am in contact with him once more
.” The low level hiss of the radio continued.

“
My guide of guides
,” suddenly the hiss turned into a crackling static, Janus sighed with relief.

“Hotel Lima One, Hotel Lima One. Do you read?” came a voice breaking through the radio's noise.

NO, NO, NO
, Janus thought angrily, as the police band bled over the radio signal; then the gentle hiss of the un-tuned radio’s static started up once more.

Janus turned the radio off. It was apparent that there would not be any contact with the spirit world at this time. He was going to have to figure out what he would have been told if he hadn't been interrupted earlier.

He thought back to the spirit’s last words, ’
Richard must live, but one other must
….’
One other must what?
he thought, closing his eyes; searching for the answer: but nothing came to him.

Putting the thought to one side he wondered what else he could do to shed light on all that he now knew.

Getting up from his sofa he went and sat in the chair in the alcove that was his study, the one he used when writing. He hoped this would create a spark that would enable him to figure out a way to add to his knowledge; something that would give him the upper hand to stymie the police’s views and conclusions.

Sitting at his desk he leant forward placing his elbows on the table and his chin in his hands, closing his eyes and opening his mind again.

What else can I do to get to the bottom of this?
he asked himself

He listened to his breathing, focusing on nothing, waiting for an idea to bud. Then it was there; during the time he'd been investigating the problem, he’d only focused on Mandy and had ignored what had happened to Liz. He’d never considered, further, his intuition that Liz's car crash had been more than an accident. Perhaps getting to the bottom of this would reveal the information that would help him fill in what the spirit had almost been able to tell him.

But before he took any further action he would attempt to contact the spirit world again; hoping he would get through this time. He put the radio on and sat back in his sofa.

“
My guide of guides.
” Static prevailed.

“
My guide of all guides, if there is a time in which I need you to answer, it is now; is there any information you can pass on to me at this time?
” There was no change to the white noise issuing forth from his radio.

“
My guide, please hear me now, at this time more than any other I require your guidance
.” The hiss of the radio continued as before.

Janus stood up from his sofa and turned the radio off, any thought as to help from the spirit world being dismissed. It was obvious that nothing was going to happen. It was now down to him to find out more about the circumstances surrounding Liz’s accident and Mandy’s death.

Janus recalled a conversation the Jamesons had had the last time he was at their house for dinner. Richard could not stop praising the family run garage for the quality of work they did and for their ever so reasonable prices. Liz had chipped in her praises too.

Richard had even suggested to Janus that, although he was based in Leigh, he ought to take his car to Brown's Automotive Services & Sundries for servicing when it was required. The round trip would be more than worthwhile.

There was no other option; he would have to go to Hertfordshire and the Jameson's local garage, in Chorleywood, to understand everything about the Jameson's car, which was more likely a four wheel drive MVP rather than a car, but that fact was fairly irrelevant.

If there was anything untoward about how Liz had received her car, after its service, or there was something about the way the service had been done that was different from usual, he needed to know.

Janus considered himself lucky to know of the Jameson's preferred garage; it certainly made the next steps he would have to take a lot easier. The only thing was getting there.

After checking the National Rail Enquiries web site he decided to wait until the next day, before he could haul himself off to Chorelywood. The train connections weren't that great and if he left today, he'd probably arrive after Brown's garage had closed.

Once Janus Malik had left the interview room at Leigh police station, Detective Inspector Davis had called Superintendent Harris.

“Superintendent?” the desk sergeant said, after Harris answered his phone.

“Yes, what is it?” Harris was upset; things didn't seem to be going so well at the moment. His glorious clean handover to his replacement was looking like it would not be so clean after all.

“I've a Detective Inspector Davis on the line for you.”

“Good, put him through.”

“Super', I've got some news.”

“It'd better be good, Davis.”

Davis wondered what he should tell the Super' first, the fact that they had got a suspect or the fact that the Strickland suicide was going to have to be investigated again, but this time as a murder. He plumped for the good news first.

“It is. We have a suspect for the fire at the Jamesons’ house. Admittedly the evidence is circumstantial at the moment, but we're working on that. But the best thing is that this person could also be the perp behind the Strickland suicide, which is now looking like murder, because of the Jameson link between the two cases, obviously.”

Harris was silent for a moment, contemplating the news; then he smiled to himself, Okay the Strickland case was more than likely going to be opened up again, but now that didn't matter so much, because Thames Valley had a suspect.

“What have you got for me, Davis?”

“Janus Malik.”

“Janus Malik! Are you sure?” Harris never thought that he would hear that name in the frame, but… come to think of it…

“Sir, he's certainly close to all the victims and had access.”

“But what about a motive? R.J.P had just published his latest book and why would he want to dispose of the Strickland woman?”

“We're working on the theory that he was having an affair with Mr Jameson's wife and that Jameson's PA found out what was going on and was about to announce the whole damned thing to the world.

“We also know from the previous investigation that Amanda Strickland was not in a good position financially, she may have been attempting to blackmail Janus Malik, but we need to do more work on that.”

“And what about the fire?” Harris continued.

“We think that he was trying to hide some evidence of the affair; perhaps letters, perhaps something else, but if the explosion could be put down to a gas leak then that would be good.”

“The daughter and the nanny?” Harris was now hoping that everything was going to be tidied up in a nice little package that he could present to the CPS on his leaving.

“The team reckons that he expected the whole place to be burnt to the ground before the fire brigade got there.

“Sir, if we could tie the whole thing up then that would fit in with your requirements wouldn’t it? And that would be the end of our arrangement?” Davis was thankful to his former boss for sorting out his move to Thames Valley, especially after
that
little incident, but the stress of the debt had always been there, nagging at the back of his mind. If he could wrap this whole thing up then surely his former boss would be obliged to remove the proverbial Sword of Damocles, which had been hanging over his head for such a long time, once and for all.

“Yes, Davis, okay, carry on as you are. Let's see what else this Malik has been up to.”

“Okay, sir,” Davis said, happier than he had been in a long time since the reappearance of his former Guv’.

Janus awoke to the sound of his alarm. From the information he had got from the National Rail Enquiries website, he knew he had to be at Leigh station ready to catch the 9.22 a.m. departure, which was in about an hour. The journey was about two and a half hours, in total, and consisted of minimal changes. From Fenchurch Street he would have to get to Marylebone then from there he could get to Chorleywood.

Brown's Automotive Services and Sundries was only a short walk from Chorleywood station; in fact it was only around the corner, in Shire Lane.

Janus got up and put the percolator on, then jumped in the shower.

After his coffee he left his flat for the station. He wondered what he would say to the staff of the garage once he got there. He needed to know a few things but how would they take the questioning? Would they be friendly and answer questions from an outsider or would he be treated as an out of towner? He didn't know; he hoped they were ordinary,
 
reasonable people.

Three hours later the train pulled up in Chorleywood station. He left the carriage and a few moments later two other men left the carriage in his wake, talking quietly to each other, trying not to get too close to him.

Once out on the street Janus looked around to see if he could spot the sign indicating Shire Lane. He couldn't see one, but from his memory of the map he’d seen on the Internet he knew he ought to turn left and carry on to the next major road junction.

Ten minutes later he was standing outside the front of Brown's Automotive Services and Sundries. He paused for a moment to collect his thoughts before walking across the forecourt and into the huge display area of the garage.

“Excuse me,” Janus said to one of the showroom staff. “I would like to talk to the manager, if that’s possible.”

“If you’re interested in one of these cars then allow me to show you round,” the salesman said starting his sales pitch. This wasn’t a bad job, but decent wages depended upon commission. “We have some great deals on at the moment. And if you have a car you would like to sell, we have some amazing part exchange deals going on. You’ve picked the right time to come and see us.”

“No, not really,” Janus replied noting a sudden change in the salesman’s demeanour. “I would just like to talk to your boss. It’s a personal matter,” Janus clarified.

“Okay, sir. If you would come this way then I'm sure Darren will be able to see you in just a little while.” The salesman led Janus to the back of the showroom.

“Sir, if you would like to sit here I'll let Darren know you're here. Who should I tell him is waiting?”

“He doesn't know me, but I'm here on behalf of Richard Jameson.”

“Ah! I'll let him know immediately. And your name?” the salesman asked again.

“It's Janus Malik,” Janus responded.

The salesman left Janus sitting on a sofa and went through a door situated at the back of the showroom.

Within a few minutes the salesman reappeared with a rather rotund and balding man who was dressed in an obviously expensive suit. The fat man walked towards Janus, holding an outstretched hand towards him.

“Good to meet you.” They shook hands. “I'm Darren and the owner of this little empire you see before you.”

“Good to meet you too,” Janus said.

“I hear you know our good friend Mr Jameson. What can I do for you?”

“Would it be possible to speak in private?” Janus asked.

“Of course, come this way.” Darren led Janus towards a glass fronted office.

It can't be Darren Brown, Janus thought, smiling to himself at the ever so similar names the fat man in front of him, and the TV personality had.

Darren opened the door to the office and showed Janus in.

“Please sit down, Mr Malik. What is it I can do for you? You're not after one of our cars are you? Because we're more than willing to help in that respect if you are.”

“Unfortunately not, Mr Brown, if it is Mr Brown?”

“Yes it is, but please call me Darren. And if it's not cars, then how can I help you?”

“It's to do with a car you serviced for Richard's wife a month or so ago.”

“As you can imagine, Mr Malik,” Darren Brown said, starting to be on the defensive, “I'm only the manager and my subordinates usually deal with the day to day running of the place. But I will help where I can, and if I can't, then I will most certainly introduce you to someone who can. What exactly do you want to know?”

“Liz, Richard's wife, or Richard, I don't exactly know who, brought in their 4x4 MVP, I was just wondering about the circumstances of the service and who signed it off.”

“Now why would you want to know that, Mr Malik?” Darren questioned, becoming aware that this visit was not going to be along the usual lines of the people who introduced themselves as knowing current clients.

“You don't know?”

“I'm not sure I understand where you're coming from at all, Mr Malik,” Darren answered carefully.

“Oh.” Janus didn’t know how he was going to break the news to the proprietor that one of the vehicles they had serviced had been in a crash due to a possible failure of the power steering. There was no other way but to carry on bluntly. “Richard’s wife was in an accident, an accident which was due to steering failure of some sort.”

Darren sat in silence for a moment as he digested the news.

“Is she okay?” Darren was obviously concerned, but whether the concern was to do with his business, or the effects on a customer of his, Janus couldn’t determine.

“Yes she is. But I would like to know more about the service if that's okay.”

“Of course it is.” Darren picked up his office phone. “Joan, hi, yes, could you pull the records on the Jameson MPV and bring them to my office, if you please.

“Mr Malik, this won't take a minute, would you like a coffee in the meantime?”

“Yes, thanks, I would,” Janus said.

Darren swivelled around in his chair to the coffee machine that was sitting on a plush sideboard behind him, and poured a coffee into a plastic cup. He handed it to Janus.

Janus took the coffee and started to sup it. Seconds later Darren's office door opened and Joan entered. She handed a beige folder to her boss.

“Thanks Joan.” She lingered. “That'll be all thank you.” Darren finished. With that his secretary left.

Darren opened up the folder and looked at the report.

“Mr Malik, I am relieved to say that the work the Jamesons had done on their MPV was only minimal and had nothing to do with the steering. I hope I'm not coming across as sounding callous, I certainly don't mean to, Mrs Jameson is a very nice lady and I'm deeply sorry about her accident.”

“You’re not coming across as callous at all,” Janus responded. “I understand what you mean. But could you explain to me what minimal is, Mr Brown?” Janus said, rather too abruptly and he noticed Darren tense up. Janus quickly corrected himself. “I’m sorry, Mr Brown, it’s just that Mrs Jameson is a very close friend of mine. What work did she have done to the car?”

Darren relaxed again and flicked through the pages of the report, then looked at Janus. “It was just a minimal service really, tyre pressures, oil, screen wash and brakes. Nothing much more than that in fact.” Darren turned another page. “Oh, and they asked for the emissions to be checked, even though the MOT was not due.”

“Nothing that required any tinkering really then?” Janus observed.

“No, especially as the brakes were good; just some air in the tyres and the oil and screen wash topped up. That's probably why Todd was allowed to sign off this vehicle report.”

“Todd?” Janus asked.

“Yeah, he's a student on his year out from some college in Australia.”

“Oh. Can I speak to him?”

“No, I’m afraid he’s left us. He only joined at the beginning of the year, must have left around three weeks ago now. He did say he wouldn’t be staying long but that wasn’t a problem for us, so we took him on. He said that when the weather had picked up he would be taking up the offer of a lifeguard’s post he’d been given in Perranporth,” Darren said, adding, “I think it was Perranporth. And he’s left before the weather has got any better, but we knew he would be here only temporarily. So it’s no problem.”

Janus needed to know more; he needed to know what had happened when Todd had handed the keys back to Liz and she had taken the car away. What he really needed to do was to get hold of the report and hope that there was some psychical essence of Todd left on the paper. Something only he could read. But three weeks had gone by and his psychometric ability, the one by which he could divine information just by touching an object, would probably not divulge anything useful, but he had to try.

“Mr Malik?” Janus refocused on Darren.

“Sorry I was miles away,” Janus said.

“That's okay, there's nothing like a daydream to relax the mind. Is there anything else I can do for you?”

Janus knew he had to get the report just for a few seconds. “If I could have a look at the report, then I'm sure that would answer everything else,” Janus replied.

“Mr Malik,” Darren Brown started. “This is a confidential document and although I've accepted you on your word, you haven't actually given me any proof that you are who you say you are or any proof that you know Mr Jameson, for that matter. I hope I've been a good judge of character and that the questions I've answered have covered everything you need. These documents do contain other information and it is information I'm not willing to give out.”

“Yes, of course. Sorry, Darren.”

Darren Brown's attention was distracted by his secretary waving at him earnestly through the office's glass walls.

“Excuse me a minute, Mr Malik.” Darren left the office quickly and followed his secretary towards the front of the showroom.

Janus heard some raised voices filtering through the now open office door. He took one more look at the back of the receding Mr Brown then turned back to the desk. The report was still there, sitting in front of him. He knew this wasn't the ideal situation to pick up the super-sensory chaff, that strange essence, which most living things discarded as they meandered their way through life, but this was going to be his only opportunity.

He reached over the desk, opened the beige folder and placed his hands gently onto the pages of the report, then closed his eyes.

At first there was nothing just a muted grey-white panorama, an empty canvas. But as he concentrated harder he slowly began to hear sounds, and as he focused on the sounds they crystallised into voices.

Janus was standing next to a large four wheel drive vehicle; then he was laughing, handing over some keys, his hands were brown and tanned. He was now looking at the back of the vehicle as it was driven out of the garage and as he looked toward the driver's seat, through the rear window, he saw brownish straight hair. He looked into the rear view mirror and caught a glimpse of some sunglasses
.

Then he was back. He sighed. The vision was broken and disjointed, but he had got more information than he had expected to. Quickly he closed the folder.

“Mr Malik, I'm sorry about that,” Darren said as he entered his office. “My sales staff were having a bit of trouble removing a couple people who were obviously not interested in buying anything, probably some ne’er-do-well types. Anyway, I believe, Mr Malik, our business is concluded.”

“If you would allow me one other question, Mr Brown, I would appreciate it.”

“If it is anything I can answer, I will.”

“Could you tell me who signed for the car?”

“I think I can go that far,” Darren opened the folder once again and looked at the customer's signature. “Yes, it was Mrs Jameson.”

With that last bit of information Janus got up and shook Darren Brown’s hand once again and left the offices of Brown’s Automotive Services and Sundries, for his journey home