Shaping the Ripples (26 page)

“Don’t tell them that,” he replied jokingly. “I’d just about got them all convinced that I was a nice bloke.”

We spent most of the rest of the evening in the games room, with various pairs playing snooker, and Ian continuing to keep the drinks flowing. I was surprised how much I was enjoying myself. It was only after the other couples had left, and Katie and I were trying in vain to beat Ian and Lisa, that I was reminded about the murders.

“Have they got any further in finding this awful killer?” Ian asked as he expertly potted the blue and span the white into a perfect position for his next shot.

Before I could answer, Katie had jumped in. “The police seem to be wasting most of their time trying to prove that Jack’s responsible,” she said with indignation.

“Oh, how terrible,” Lisa sympathised.

“Would I know the person in charge of the investigation?” Ian asked as another ball rolled smoothly into a pocket.

“Probably,” I told him. “He was at the Executive Club Christmas dinner. His name’s Michael Palmer.”

This was obviously of sufficient import that Ian ignored his next shot and stood up from the table.

“We have quite a few of the more senior policemen in the club,” he said thoughtfully. “I don’t know Michael very well but he’s supposed to be very bright. He’s seen as the rising young star of the local police force. There was something else though, but I never found out the details. Some sort of scandal he was involved in a few years back. I think for a while it looked as if he would be dismissed, but whatever it was, it’s obviously all forgotten now. Would it help if I gave him a call?”

“That’s very kind of you,” I told him. “But I don’t think that it would do any good. After all, the only thing you could tell him is that you’ve played snooker with me, and that I don’t seem like a killer to you. If anything, it might make him suspect me even more if he thinks that I’m trying to get people to warn him off.”

“You’re probably right,” Ian agreed, lining up his next shot. “But if there is anything I can do, anything at all, please just ask me.”

“Thanks,” I said, as he effortlessly potted the black to end the game. “It’s really nice of you.”

Katie and I decided that we ought to be leaving as well, and thanked them once again for their hospitality. We declined Lisa’s offer of taking bags of food home with us, and drove off in the car. The two of them waved us off as we drove down the drive.

“What an amazing house,” Katie commented once we were out onto the main road. “How much do you think it must be worth?”

“Well over a million,” I guessed. “I don’t think the money’s really a consideration for them though.”

“And they’re such a nice family as well,” Katie agreed. “Talk about having it all.”

I nodded, and then glanced across at her. “Just at the moment, I wouldn’t trade places,” I told her.

She reached across and squoze my arm. “Me neither,” she said, and there didn’t seem to be any more need for words on the rest of the journey. Saying goodbye outside her house took a long time, but eventually I watched her walk up the stairs and into the house.

All the apartment block was dark when I got home, which wasn’t too surprising, as the clock in my car told me it was just after midnight. I tried to be as quiet as I could getting into my apartment.

When I opened the front door, I was fairly surprised to see the red message light on my answering machine flashing in the darkness. I turned on the main light, and went over to find out who had called me.

A press on the “play messages” button produced a metallic response. “You have one message. Message one, Saturday 8.30pm”. Then a hysterical female voice filled the room.

“Jack, are you there?” The voice was shaking so much that I couldn’t recognise it. “It’s Linda Clarke. I’m frightened Jack, I need to speak to you. I’m sure that someone’s been watching me in the last few days. What if it’s Ryan, and he got the address from your office? Please ring me as soon as you get this, I’m so scared. Help me, Jack!”

With this final cry of dismay, the message ended abruptly. My heart racing, I searched through my address book for her number. My hands were shaking as I dialled. In Linda’s house the phone rang and rang, but nobody answered it.

Chapter Twenty Seven

I sat there for a few minutes, letting the phone ring and trying to decide what to do. Finally, I hung up and then rang the police station. A rather bored sounding male voice came onto the line, and asked me what the problem was.

“My name’s Jack Bailey. I work at the Domestic Crisis Centre,” I explained. “I’ve just got home to find a very distressed telephone message from one of our clients, a Linda Clarke. She believed that she was in danger from a stalker, possibly her former husband. I’ve tried to call her back but there’s no reply.”

“It is after midnight, sir. Are you sure that she’s not just soundly asleep?” the voice replied.

“No, I’m not sure,” I told him. “It just doesn’t seem very likely that someone who was as terrified as she sounded when she called me, would just go off calmly to bed and fall into a sleep so deep that the telephone couldn’t wake her.”

There was a slight pause. “Even if she has left the house, we have to wait for twenty four hours before investigating a missing person report.”

I was starting to feel a little frustrated. “I understand that,” I said, “but this isn’t a simple case of a missing person. She was convinced that she was in danger, and now there’s no response from her home.”

“Surely if she believed that she was in imminent danger, she would have telephoned the police,” the calm voice replied. “I can understand that the message has upset you, sir, but you may be panicking unnecessarily. Perhaps if you wait until the morning she will get in touch with you again.”

I decided that there was no alternative but to share the fear that had lurking ever since I’d heard Linda’s voice.

“I think that the person she was scared of may be the same person who has murdered Jennifer Carter and Christopher Upton.”

The policeman’s voice noticeably changed in tone. “And why would you think that sir?”

“I’m the person that the killer has been corresponding with,” I explained. “His last message hinted that his next victim might be someone who had helped at work. If Linda was really being followed, it could well have been the killer.”

“So you believe that this killer may have already attacked Mrs. Clarke?”

“It’s possible,” I answered. “I any case, I’ve decided to drive over to her house to see if she is there. I was hoping that a squad car could meet me there, but I’m going whether it can or not.”

Somewhat reluctantly, he agreed that he would send someone out to meet me. I gave him the address of Linda’s house, and went down to the garage to collect my car.

The police car hadn’t arrived when I pulled up at the village square. The front of the bungalow was in total darkness, but my worry increased when I saw that the upstairs curtains were open. I decided to wait in the car until I had company.

After a few minutes, a police car arrived and parked just behind me. A very young man in constable’s uniform got out, and I went to greet him.

“Mr. Bailey?” he checked as he shook my hand. “I’m PC Mark Rogers. The Sergeant has filled me in on your telephone conversation with him. Which house is it?”

We walked together up to the property. The front door was closed and secure, and there was nothing visible through the lounge windows. PC Rogers tried ringing the bell and hammering on the door, but there was no sign of life.

“It doesn’t look as if there’s anyone home,” he observed eventually. “Did Mrs. Clarke live here alone?”

“No,” I answered. “It isn’t actually her house. She just lodges here with a teacher from the local school.”

“Is there any chance that the two of them could have gone away together?” he enquired.

“Only if they decided to do it late this evening. Linda’s message asked me to call her back here as soon as I got in. It didn’t sound as if she was planning on going anywhere.”

There was a gate at the side of the bungalow which opened up to a path leading around to the back of the house. We tried to go through it but it was securely bolted on the other side.

“I suppose I’d better try and climb over it,” Mark Rogers said slightly doubtfully. But he was saved from starting by a shout from behind us.

“What the hell are you two up to?” the voice demanded.

It took a moment to identify where it was coming from, but eventually we both spotted the source of the shout at the same time. It was a balding man wearing a dressing gown, leaning out of the window of the adjoining bungalow. PC Rogers moved towards him, taking his police badge out of his pocket.

“PC Rogers, York Police,” he announced. “Sorry if we woke you up, sir. We’re trying to check on the safety of your next door neighbours. I wonder if you might have any idea where they are?”

The man looked slightly mollified, but then frowned. “Emma and Linda?” he said in some bemusement. “Has something happened to them?”

“We hope not,” said PC Rogers. “Do you have any idea where they might be?”

“Emma mentioned that she was going away for the weekend,” he replied. “But as far as I know, Linda should be at home. I don’t see how she’d have slept through the racket you two were making. Why are you interested in her?”

Mark Rogers indicated me with a wave of his hand. “Mr. Bailey here is a friend of Mrs. Clarke’s. He received a rather distressed call from her this evening and was concerned when he couldn’t get in touch with her. You haven’t heard or seen anything suspicious this evening, I suppose?”

The man shook his head, “Not a thing, I’m afraid. What are you going to do now?”

“It’s all locked up at the front,” PC Rogers told him. “I was just about to climb over the gate to have a look around the back when you called us. I want to just make sure that everything’s alright.”

The man was quiet for a moment and then spoke again. “I look after the house for them when they’re both away,” he announced. “I have a spare front door key. I don’t suppose they’d mind me letting you use it in the circumstances.”

“That would be a great help,” Mark Rogers beamed.

We waited for a few minutes for the man to emerge from the house. When he finally appeared, he had pulled on some trousers and a jumper. We watched him walk up to the door and turn the key in the lock. Then he stepped back, and let PC Rogers lead the way into the house. I followed close behind.

The house wasn’t completely in darkness, because there was light seeping from behind the closed door at the very back of the house. He headed there first, and opened the door. For a moment, his back blocked any view of the room itself. As he moved in, I saw with relief that there was no-one in the kitchen. The only sign of anything untoward was on the table. There was a barely touched plate of fish and rice, with the cutlery sitting on top of it. Next to it, a glass lay on its side. Most of whatever fluid it contained had run off the table to form a pool on the floor, but there were still some puddles of liquid on the table itself.

“It looks like someone left in a hurry,” PC Rogers observed.

“Or were disturbed by someone else,” I suggested.

My stomach had already shot up into my mouth. I was certain that there was a grisly surprise waiting for us in one of the other rooms of the house. Mentally, I was kicking myself for having been out all evening. Perhaps if I’d been at home to take Linda’s call, there would have been enough time to protect her.

We worked our way back through the house, going from room to room. The bathroom and both bedrooms were empty of people, although Linda’s room was a total mess, with clothes thrown on the bed and on the floor.

Finally, we approached the living room. I felt almost sick with fearful anticipation. PC Rogers turned the handle and slowly pushed the door open. As my eyes began to take in the scene inside the room, I let out a gasp.

It was empty. No hideously disfigured corpse, no hint of blood or carnage. Just the same room I had sat in a little over a month before with Linda as she had read Ryan’s note. My feelings were a mixture of relief and despair. Of course I was pleased that we hadn’t found Linda’s body, but I couldn’t shake the certainty that the killer had been here, and that Linda was now with him.

PC Rogers looked at me. “I’m not sure that there’s much else we can do here tonight, Mr. Bailey,” he said.

I nodded in agreement. “We just have to hope that she turns up safe tomorrow,” I said.

“I’ll make a report on what we found here,” he continued. “Obviously if she gets in touch with you tomorrow, I’d appreciate you letting us know. If not, the next step will be for us to talk to her housemate when she returns to see if Mrs. Clarke has contacted her. Hopefully, by tonight we’ll know that she’s safe.”

“And if we don’t?” I asked.

“Then tonight we’ll officially declare her a missing person, and put her description out. It is possible that if she was as scared as you say, she has gone to stay somewhere that she feels safer.”

“I hope that you’re right,” I answered. “But from the looks of the kitchen, something would have had to make her leave in an awful hurry.”

“I agree,” said PC Rogers, “but there’s really nothing more we can do tonight.”

We went out of the front door and watched Linda’s neighbour lock the house up again. PC Rogers and I both thanked him and I wrote out my telephone number for him to ring if he saw Linda return.

Back at the flat, I went to bed, without any expectations of being able to sleep. Sure enough, I lay awake for hours thinking about Linda. In my heart, I knew I wasn’t going to see her alive again.

EVIDENCE PRESENTED TO INTERNAL ENQUIRY WY05/32741:

EXTRACT FROM RECOVERED FILES OF DR. JENNIFER CARTER

6 month review - patient no 2306

Although the patient attends sessions regularly, there has been very little change in the underlying condition.

As previously recorded, progress has been made in identifying the previous traumatic events which have produced the patient’s repressed rage. However, the patient continues to be unwilling or unable to recognise this underlying rage.