Caught in the Web by Emmy Ellis (most read books in the world of all time TXT) 📗

carried on walking. But he did get a good look at them both that time and reckons he could identify anyone for us if needs be. Said although it was dark, he made out their features well enough.”

Euphoria raced through Burgess. That was what they needed, someone who could state they’d seen the killer.

“Bring the witness in,” Burgess said. “Get his statement down as soon as you can. Take Yaqui with you to collect him. Show the witness the picture of our man with Anita Curtis and watch his face when he sees it—don’t just take his word for it if he says he recognises him. Faces and expressions speak louder. I’m just off with Shaw to collect Varley. Unless it can’t wait, leave off contacting me until we’re back, all right?”

“All right, sir.”

“Bloody good work, Denton.”

The officer beamed, blushed, and as Burgess walked away towards Officer Lewis, Denton called over to Yaqui and let him know they needed to collect a witness then interview him. Yeah, the DCI had been right. Denton was one to watch blossom in his career.

“Lewis,” Burgess said, stopping beside his desk, where a computer screen showed a long list of Wingman Street addresses and the names of the occupiers. “I need you to stop whatever it is you’re doing and switch to something else for me. Access this case number.” He recited 457-890-58.

Lewis brought up a new screen and typed in the numbers. The man had a wicked mind for remembering information. Burgess had expected to have to repeat that number.

“Go to the witness tab,” Burgess said. “See that list there? I need you to check whether the residents still live at those addresses, and if they don’t, find out where they are now. Once you’ve done that, I want you to get their phone numbers. Call them all if you can and remind them of the murder in question—read the file to get the gist of it. Ask them this question: ‘Was anyone other than your colleagues in the vicinity at that time? Anyone whatsoever?’ I’ll be back, hopefully, soon. Any information you get can wait until I return.”

“Yes, sir.” Lewis was already bending his head, getting to work.

“Come on,” Shaw said. “Let’s get this over and done with.”

Burgess followed Shaw from the building then to Burgess’ car. His partner held out his hand for the keys, obviously having it in mind that he was doing the driving. Sensible, seeing as Burgess wouldn’t be able to concentrate on the road yet again.

Once they were off, Shaw said, “Want me to deal with this? With him?”

Burgess shrugged. “Makes no odds to me. Play it by ear. He’s nothing to me, remember that.”

He wondered for a brief second whether he was convincing himself or Shaw.

“Want to know where he lives?” Shaw asked.

“Nope. You’re driving, you take us there.”

They arrived back at the alley where Anita had been found. Shaw parked up outside the launderette.

“Taking a quick look down there again or something?” Burgess asked.

“No. He lives up there.” Shaw pointed.

Gordon Varley rents a flat above Letty’s Launderette?

That was a bit sick, in Burgess’ opinion, but yet another piece of information that made total sense. The lack of working CCTV meant Varley had undoubtedly known where the wires were on the building—wires that had been cut, it had been discovered. Other wires, too—those that would have shown the street the shops were situated on, and Varley returning home after putting Anita in the alley. Burgess had checked the gathered information earlier, and officers had been door-to-door, but no one had answered at Varley’s address.

“He’s fucking warped,” Burgess said. “How can a person stand himself, living right beside the very place he’s dumped a body? Does it give him satisfaction? Is he not afraid we’ll inevitably get hold of him for questioning?”

“No idea. Apparently, Varley’s having a week off work from the launderette, so our lot have been unable to catch him there. We’d have ended up looking more closely at him anyway, even if your mother hadn’t mentioned the previous two murders.”

Yeah, they’d have caught him regardless, and that went some small way to making Burgess feel better. Less useless and more optimistic about a positive outcome. And Burgess wished he’d known about Varley’s place of work sooner. He knew the bloody boss. Had been in there more times than he could count. Couldn’t, as far as he recalled, remember seeing Varley in there, though, going by the picture of him and Anita.

“And that’s his car in front of us,” Shaw said. “Red Golf.”

“So he could well be in then.”

Burgess’ insides churned like a bastard, coiling him up yet at the same time setting him free of so many things he’d tried not to think about before the recent murders had been committed. He was getting somewhere with his father’s case as well as this one, and that would give him no end of contentment if he could solve what the hell had gone on back then. That was all he wanted—peace and wellbeing that would come with knowing he’d brought William Varley’s killer to justice. And giving his mother closure.

Burgess glanced up at the flat above Letty’s, with its clean windows, cloud reflections scudding across them. His stomach churned some more, but adrenaline was the prevailing force governing him. The need to do the right thing and apprehend a man he believed was evil.

Once out of the car, Burgess stood in front of a white-painted door that was next to the glass one for Letty’s. He stared at the one for the flat for a few seconds, knowing the suspect had stood in this exact same spot thousands of times. Varley had maybe watched the comings and goings of the police—had maybe even seen Burgess himself when he’d arrived on the scene yesterday morning. Spied