IMPERFECTION by Ray Clark (e novels to read online TXT) 📗

“We found Janine Harper’s mobile phone in the back of the shop, under the Dexion shelving. No idea why it was there. Maybe she was trying to call us, and in the struggle it was knocked under there. Anyway, we’ve checked it for prints and can only find hers. We’ve also gone through the contacts and all the messages, so we have a lead on the boyfriend.”

“Good work,” said Briggs. “Bring him in, let’s talk to him.”

“And we found a list,” offered Fenton. “It looks like an order for make-up, but it’s not easy to make out. It was screwed up in a bin, and it looks like it’s had coffee on it. The only thing I can really see is the name Corndell.”

“Anyone know that name?” asked Briggs.

“I do,” said Reilly. Before the Irishman had a chance to elaborate, Thornton came through the door and apologised for his lateness. He was also out of breath.

“Everything okay, Frank?” asked Briggs.

“Yes.” He turned in Gardener’s direction and had the common courtesy to offer his apologies to his superior officer. “Anyway, I’ve uncovered something interesting. The knots used to hold Janine’s legs were different to the first murder. He used a double loop bowline.”

“Which is what?” asked Gardener.

Thornton explained the technicalities of the knot. “Apparently, it was used at sea for lowering injured men from boats, one leg through each loop.” Thornton sat down, sipping the coffee he’d brought in with him, staring at the stranger in their midst.

Gardener took over. “So, once again we have a link to the navy, or the fishing industry. The first time, he used a sailor’s eye splice. This time he’s used a double loop bowline. So, someone needs to check these out. Is our killer a fisherman? Or does he simply have a good knowledge of knots and he’s using that fact to throw us?” He glanced at Thornton. “Well done, Frank. Can you keep going with that one? Find out as much as you can about the rope itself.”

“Right. Reilly–” started Briggs.

“Excuse me, sir?” The voice belonged to the youngest member of the team, Patrick Edwards. He was fresh-faced, nineteen years old, and had an earring in one ear that no one was pleased about.

Briggs glanced at him, but didn’t offer a question.

Edwards took it as his cue. “I’ve got something on a missing limo. Took a call about ten minutes ago from a company in Bradford who hire them out for all sorts of reasons. One of them has gone missing. It was hired out for the whole of last week and should have been returned on Monday. It hasn’t.”

“What? And it’s taken them till now to report it missing? Okay, as soon as we’re out of here get yourself over there, lad, and get every scrap of information you can.” Briggs turned his attention to the Irishman.

Reilly stood up. “The list that Scenes of Crime found ties in with what the boss and I have in mind. We have a lead on Corndell, and we’re going to see him this afternoon.”

Briggs was quick to notice a confused expression on Gardener’s face. “Does your partner know about it, Reilly?”

“Of course he does. William Henry Corndell is his name.”

“And where does he fit in?”

“He’s an actor. Lives in a big house near Horsforth.”

“What makes you think he has anything to do with it?”

“I’m not saying he has, but something Laura said tells me he might be able to help, if nothing else. Apparently, there’s a bloke out at the university who books all the entertainment. He reckons this William Henry Corndell is the best there is. Worked the stage in the West End, films as well. Anyway, he’s playing a one-man show at the uni, and Laura’s covering it. And if you want another reason, Steve Fenton’s just given it to us with the list they found in the shop.”

“Fair enough, it’s a lead.”

Gardener asked a question of the CSM, Steve Fenton. “Any luck with that piece of film starring the infamous Inspector Burke?”

“Yes and no. The tech lads have finished with it. They tell me it’s not an old piece of film. It was made to look that way with modern technology. It was filmed recently, but that’s all they can tell us.”

“What brand of disc?”

“TDK.”

“Can you get anything from the batch number?” Gardener figured he was searching for a needle in a haystack, but he had to try.

“Not the kind of info you wanted. I spoke to TDK this afternoon. The only thing they can tell us from the batch number is that it was manufactured about fifteen years ago, and not necessarily in the UK.”

Gardener sighed, disappointed. “What about the tape you took from the theatre?”

“Same with that, it was also TDK,” said Fenton. “But no one uses cassette tapes so they wouldn’t speculate at all on that one. We’re pretty sure the words shouted are ‘look out’, but no idea if it’s been recorded live or comes from a film.”

Gardener updated the ANACAPA chart, even though there was little new evidence.

Briggs addressed them all. “I think it’s time to introduce you to the new man in the corner. I’ve noticed the looks you’re all giving him.” The man stood up and offered a smile.

“Trevor Thorpe,” said Briggs. “The profiler.”

Chapter Twenty-seven

As the officer in charge, Gardener walked over and shook hands with Thorpe, introducing himself and using the opportunity for a quick but close inspection. He was slightly shorter than Gardener and similar in weight. His rugged exterior conveyed a tough life. The left eye was a little bigger than the right, and he was quite clearly blind in it. A scar on his forehead ran down past the eyebrow, below the eye. His brown hair was closely cropped with flecks of grey running