The Scribbler by Iain Maitland (a court of thorns and roses ebook free TXT) 📗

all of that. We pulled in every burglar locally who wasn’t inside. Long story short, it turned out it was a young kid, first-time offender, eighteen-year old, lived over the road. He’d tried it on with the wife, she rebuffed him two or three times and he seemed to accept it. Then, a week or two later, he did all that. It wasn’t a burglary, just his revenge.”

“Of course,” Carrie replied, “if it is one of these three, the ones they pulled in and questioned and eventually released without charge, there’ll be a huge fuss in the papers about letting him escape to kill again.”

Gayther shrugged. “Maybe, but there was never enough evidence to charge, let alone convict, any of the three last time round. Chances are, it was one of them. Higher up pulled in the net soon after, unofficially, of course. Young mother went missing. A small child was murdered. Unrelated, but considered more important than gay men at that time. Anyway, this time …”

“Could they not have kept an eye on them, guvnor, even for a while? See what they did next?”

Gayther exhaled loudly. “Resources, Carrie. And harassment, of course. You can’t just tail someone indefinitely. Anyway, the arrests would have been enough to spook whichever one of them did it. After all, that’s when the killings stopped.”

Carrie nodded as Gayther went on.

“This time, if this Karen Williams recognises one of them, or even if she doesn’t and we can still catch him quickly, before he kills again … well, we can’t do more. We’re acting as fast as we can and even if this is all a wild goose chase as you suggested yesterday, we’ll only have spent a few days on it, when all’s said and done …”

“Left here,” Carrie said suddenly, looking down at her mobile phone.

“I’ve been here before, Carrie, yesterday; I think I can remember that far back. I’m fifty-five and I’m not yet senile.”

“No, guv. Sorry, guv,” Carrie smiled.

Gayther huffed theatrically before going on. “Fact is, how can I put this … the media … how big a story is it? Police incompetence is always popular with the media and loved by all the virtue signallers on Twitter, but the killings … from so long ago … to the general public? Back then, it got publicity, but not as much, and as long as … well, if it were pretty young women … cute kids … it would have got a load more and plenty of resources as well. A lot of people in the police force … I shouldn’t say it … but it was a different era and … well, there wasn’t as much empathy as there could have been for gay men. Anyone LGBTQ+.”

“And right, just in here.”

“Thank you, Carrie, what would I do without you acting as my carer?”

“That’s all right, guv, then left again and we’re there.” She turned her phone off and slipped it back in her pocket.

Gayther continued talking as they approached the close. “The media, the public, too, won’t give two hoots about Old Man Lodge dying, whether he was pushed or jumped, and nor will they care about what happened to a load of troubled, middle-aged men thirty years ago. Dead gays don’t matter. And if another middle-aged white man dies. And another. And one more. Well, I doubt that they’d care that much either, truth be told. Not really. But I bloody well do. Knowing what my brother went through … what the hell is that doing there?”

Carrie looked up. Saw the police patrol car parked outside of Karen Williams’ home.

“Shit,” exclaimed Gayther, reaching to undo his seat belt and get out of the car.

“Wait,” Carrie said, putting her hand on his arm.

Gayther and Carrie watched as a young female police constable got out of the back of the car, leaning back in to help a dark-haired teenager out. Another, older female police officer got out of the front passenger side.

“That’s Kai, Karen Williams’ son,” Gayther said. “What’s he been up to? County lines runner? Oh … no.”

They watched as the older female police officer said something to the driver of the car, a younger male policeman, and then, her arm brushing the back of the teenager, she guided Kai up the path to the door with the young female police officer following behind.

“Oh, don’t tell me. Don’t tell me. Don’t tell me,” Gayther said. “Something’s happened to Karen Williams.”

As the female police officers and the teenage boy entered the house, Gayther moved again to get out of the car. Carrie touched him on his arm once more. “Let me go, guvnor. Have a word with Mark, the driver. I know him. I used to play pool with him and his ex.”

Gayther nodded his agreement, then sat waiting as she hurried over to the police car and tapped on the window.

He watched as the window was wound down and saw Carrie leaning in. A series of questions and answers. A long conversation. He opened the window of his car, to listen. He could not quite hear what was being said.

Carrie stood up, turned and came back towards Gayther. He studied her face. Their eyes met. She shook her head, a sad, final gesture. Gayther assumed the worst as Carrie got back to the car.

“Karen Williams?”

“She was killed in a hit-and-run accident on the B1119 late last night. Walking back from a pub, the Red Lion, where she’d met a friend for a drink according to Kai Williams. They’ve just returned from identifying the body. They’ve got a counsellor coming, and Ali and Sara, the two officers, are waiting until she arrives.”

“CCTV?”

“No, not on that road, not from the A12 to until you get to the town centre.”

“At the pub?”

Carrie shrugged. “I don’t know. Mark’s not sure who’s handling it yet.”

“Did she die at the scene?”

“A young couple driving home from a theatre in Ipswich saw her body by the side of the road at about 10.45pm. The woman went over, the