The Gilded Madonna by Garrick Jones (romance novel chinese novels .TXT) 📗

apologise to Clyde this instant, Dioli,” Brendan snapped, red in the face and furious. “In fact, I think it’s about time I pull you off this case. I’ve heard nothing about you that hasn’t included your blasted rudeness to fellow officers and self-obsessed brinkmanship—”

“Wait, Brendan,” I said. “Mark’s been through a lot lately. He’s got too much on his plate, juggling two cases at once, and he’s just out of hospital. Take it easy on him for a while. He’s not usually like this with me, are you, Mark?”

The one thing I had learned about Mark Dioli was that he knew which side of his bread was buttered. “No, I’m sorry. Momentary lapse of manners. I’m still recovering from my injuries and the possibility of my grandfather’s trial and the fact I might never see him again …”

Fox would have nothing of it. I could tell. He glared angrily at his detective sergeant, and just when I thought he was about to rip into him again, I spoke.

“I believe I have the name of the killer,” I said loudly, in an attempt to stop what I knew might be a savage and humiliating experience for Mark.

“You do?”

I held up the notepad Dai had given me. “With this, and a few other bits and pieces my assistant Tom is bringing up at about half past ten, I can bring you up to speed. I’ve arranged for Billy Tancred to meet us next door in the old lockup. Jeff Ball will also be there. What I’ve learned over the past few days involves everyone, and I think it’s only right you all should hear what I have to say.”

“Why Tancred?” Brendan asked.

“Because he’s a Q.C., he has a direct link to the case, and he’s been able to access court records that a cop would give his eye teeth to be able to get his hands on, and he left a message saying he has more information and will bring it when he comes. That’s why.”

“What shall we do about Luka?” Harry asked.

“I’ll keep an eye on him,” Jack said. “Unless you need me there too?”

“Just let us know if he wakes up please.”

“Very well, Clyde. Mr. Praz will be out of it until the early afternoon. I put a little sedative in with the muscle relaxant. He’ll thank me for it when he comes to.”

“Thanks, Jack.” I checked my watch. It was ten o’clock already. “Half an hour from now in the old lockup. I’ll see you all there.”

I slipped him a page from my notepad, on which I’d written: Tom will be bringing something up for you to look at too. I’d be grateful if you could check it over please, Jack? Tom will explain.

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

The beauty of holding the meeting in the old lockup was that we’d often used it the same way a crime room might be set up.

Tom had arrived just before the meeting was about to start, a little breathless, explaining he’d just delivered the razor to Jack, and at the same time handing me a large envelope.

“What’s this?” I’d asked him.

“It’s from Mr. Tancred,” he’d replied. “He asked me to give you this.”

I’d glanced across the room and seen Billy, deep in conversation with Brendan Fox, who he’d also known from our times together in North Africa. Billy had shot me back a quick wink and a smile before returning to pay attention to whatever Brendan had been saying.

The envelope contained two bundled documents of several pages each, hole punched in the top left-hand corner, and fastened with a brass cotter pin. The first was the long copy of Johnny’s service record; the second was his placement history—first in an orphanage, followed by three months at Petersham Boys’ Home, and then at the Dr. Bagshaw Home in Mudgee. I glanced through it, intrigued that he’d gone from the Dr. Bagshaw’s straight into the army at the age of eighteen. He’d worked at the home for two years before that, after he’d turned sixteen. Orphans were regularly discharged at that age, so if they’d kept him on and given him a job there, they must have liked him.

Just then Jeff Ball and his adjutant arrived, so I thought it was time to get the show on the road. Once introductions had been made and everyone had settled, I walked to a small desk I’d set up between the blackboard and the pin board.

“Those of you who worked with me when I was D.S. next door will be used to my ‘Agatha Christie’ type denouements. Vince will tell you I was renowned for making everyone very busy while I rootled around in the background, doing my own thing, and yes, not keeping the others up to speed and then calling a meeting just like this, at which I’d famously and irritatingly lay out my cards on the table.

“Because of the nature of this case, and the confidential informants involved, this time it’s been a necessity rather than my old workplace modus operandi. I’ll ask for forgiveness before I start, because some of what I might tell you might make you deservedly angry. If any of my men had pulled this sort of stunt while I was running the shop next door, I’d have booted their arses from here to kingdom come.”

Brendan Fox smiled, but his eyes were hard. There wasn’t much he could do about it though, because much of what I had to say fell under our special investigation into police crime and corruption.

I picked up a large, blue, covered book and held it up. “This is a standard text, issued to certain murder investigation units in Great Britain. It’s a worldwide study of ritualised sexual killings. Rather than a manual on how to deal with such crimes, this book is a study of the activities of murderers from around the world who each killed a series of victims during or immediately after sexual activity. I remember consulting it years back when we were working