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

it’s okay with you, I’d like to have a word with him. While you might know him better than I do, I’m concerned about your involvement becoming personal.”

“It isn’t personal,” replied Gardener.

“Maybe not,” said Briggs. “But I warn you, Stewart, if the killer finds Harry Fletcher before we do, then you know as well as I do where this is going. What we need to know is why. Perhaps the only people who can tell us are your father, or Harry Fletcher.”

Gardener took over, glancing at Dave Rawson. “You spoke to Val White, Dave. Did she give you a list of her late husband’s films? Does she have an alibi for the night Janine was murdered?”

“Yes on both accounts. The list of White’s films is pretty long, and I’ve used a couple of the support officers to try and track them down, or at least people who knew White, to see if we can find any further connection.”

“Okay, and what about Val White?”

“She’d been to his funeral that day, and was at a bereavement held in his honour on the night time.”

“So, that rules her out. What about Janine’s boyfriend?” Gardener asked. “Did anyone speak to him about his movements?”

Thornton raised his hand. “I did, sir – with Anderson. Apparently, they’d had a row and he hadn’t seen or heard from her.”

“What was the row about?”

“He said it was personal,” replied Anderson.

“How personal?”

Anderson shifted about uncomfortably. “It was something to do with sex. I don’t particularly want to go any further.”

“I don’t want you to, either,” replied Gardener. “Okay, so they had a row. When was that, exactly?”

“About a week before,” said Thornton.

“And they never saw each other after?”

“No. He wanted to give her some time to cool off. That and the fact that he wasn’t sure whether or not he actually wanted to see her again.”

“Anything strike you about his nature that may lead you to think he had homicidal tendencies?” asked Gardener.

“No,” replied Anderson. “If he has, his sexual tendencies are outweighing them at the moment.”

“He was out shagging another bird that night,” said Thornton.

“And she’s confirmed, I suppose,” said Gardener.

“Oh, definitely. Three times, apparently.”

“Which rules him out and leaves us where?” asked Briggs. “I’ll tell you where, back to square one. Two murders, no witnesses, no killer, no clues.”

“Steve?” said Gardener. “Any luck with forensics? Any prints from anywhere?”

“Not yet.”

“Any results from the ESLA?”

“We haven’t done everyone, but so far we have no foot or shoe prints on there that we can’t identify.”

“In that case, check this out.” Gardener produced a polythene bag containing the paper with the quotations, which only he and Corndell had handled.

“What’s that?” asked Briggs.

“It’s a piece of paper with the quotes on. When Sean and I went to see William Henry Corndell today, I let him handle it. I’m the only other person who has.”

“Well done,” said Briggs. “How did you get on with him?”

“He’s intelligent, and he knows a lot about his trade. But I think he has a secretive side,” said Gardener.

“Don’t we all?” asked Briggs.

“I’m still not sure whether or not the whole interview was an act.”

“What are you trying to say?” asked Briggs.

“We need to take a closer look. He’s locked up inside a huge mansion that looks like a shrine to the film world. It’s full of posters and very probably props.”

“And locked rooms,” added Reilly.

“What do you mean, locked rooms? Have you been searching his house without a warrant, Reilly?”

“It wasn’t my fault, I couldn’t find the toilet.”

“Oh, Jesus,” said Briggs, running his hands down his face. “Why is it that everything he does has disaster written all over it?”

“With all due respect, sir,” said Gardener, “you’d have to see him to know what we’re talking about. He’s superstitious, although he denies it. Eccentric. He hates being challenged. Self-conscious. He was dressed all in black with a red tie. Not that that’s a problem, but you’d think he could match a few more colours together.”

“None of which proves he’s mad,” retorted Briggs.

“Maybe you’re right. When all is said and done, he did provide what I think will be a valuable clue.”

“Go on,” said Briggs.

“He suspected the quotes came from the silent film era, the Golden Age of Hollywood, as he calls it. When films were silent, with no synchronized sound, they used title cards to communicate what was being said. He feels these quotes are written in the same style as those cards.”

“Did he recognise them?”

“He said he didn’t.”

“But you think otherwise?” Briggs asked.

Gardener nodded. “We went to see Fettle afterwards, the old guy who looks after The Grand in Leeds. He told us about Lon Chaney, an actor in the silent films who was a master of disguise. He played the part of Inspector Burke of Scotland Yard, and the part of the vampire here.” Gardener held up the artist impression. “In a film entitled, London After Midnight.”

“I remember him,” said Briggs. “He also made that film about the Hunchback.”

“And The Phantom of the Opera. Fettle also mentioned a film called A Blind Bargain, another of Chaney’s, about a mad scientist. Both that one and London are what you call ‘lost films’. Corndell told us he collects lost films, and that his favourite was A Blind Bargain, and he provided us with a lot of information about make-up. What bothers me most is a conversation he was having on his mobile phone when we arrived, supposedly with Hollywood. He was discussing the choice of director for his work. He wasn’t happy about it, and said he would make changes if they didn’t like his script.”

“The problem is?” asked Briggs.

“When I asked Fettle to verify the directors Corndell mentioned, Fettle said both of them