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

“Not at the moment. We don’t even know what it is,” replied Gardener. “I’m sure it’s only a matter of time. And last time we spoke to him, his conversation on the mobile referred to two Hollywood directors, both of whom have been dead for years. Sir, we really do have to interview this man a second time. However circumstantial it all looks, we need to speak to him again.”

Briggs sighed and glanced at the note he held in his hand. “You do realise I’m in an awkward position, Stewart.”

“In what way?” Gardener asked.

“Whoever the killer is, whether it be Corndell or someone else, he’s made it personal. You and I both know that your father is next and last on the list. Which means, I might have to remove you from the case.”

Gardener raised his hands to the ceiling. “Why does this always happen to me?”

Chapter Forty-one

Gardener and Reilly were on their way to see Corndell. If Gardener kept out of Briggs’ way, then the DCI couldn’t order him off the case. At the moment, that was unthinkable: there were too many unanswered questions for his liking, and he and Reilly had worked the case from the start, so he wasn’t going to give it up easily. He wanted to see Corndell again, flush him out.

Despite having no concrete evidence, a lot of negative points were stacking up against him.

He was a master of disguise. He appeared incredibly intelligent. He supposedly wrote scripts. Couldn’t he therefore be the author of the verses and puzzles? Corndell lived in an old-fashioned world and had an obsession with Lon Chaney. The man they wanted fitted that description as well.

Whether it was Corndell or not, there was the added pressure of his father’s involvement to consider, not to mention his personal protection. Maybe it would be better if Briggs did remove him from the case, then he could shadow his father day and night.

There was still a lot of ground to cover. He needed to speak to so many people: Fitz, to see if any of the current cases matched previous murders; Fettle, to see if he could enhance their knowledge of Corndell any further than the bottom rung of the ladder; Colin Sharp, had he uncovered anything from Corndell’s past that would satisfy their desire for an arrest?

Reilly brought the car to a halt outside the gates. Gardener jumped out and pressed the intercom. He glanced at the cloudless blue sky and wondered why they were having such reasonable weather for the beginning of April. Maybe global warming was to blame.

After a healthy wait, a terse voice replied to the intrusion. “Yes?”

“Mr Corndell? DI Gardener and DS Reilly, we’d like to talk to you.”

“I told you last night that I didn’t want to speak to anyone, and my views have not changed.”

Another little point that irked Gardener: Corndell’s perfect alibi for last night’s murder was none other than himself. How could he have murdered Harry Fletcher? “I don’t care what you want! I want to speak to you.”

Their conversation continued over the intercom. “Mr Gardener, you’re not listening to me. This is police harassment, and if you continue I shall be forced to call my solicitor.”

“Maybe he should use his mobile,” suggested Reilly.

“It’s you who’s not listening,” replied Gardener. “Now we can do this the easy way or the hard way, it’s entirely up to you. The easy way is to let me in and answer my questions. The hard way is for me to go away and return with a warrant, arrest you on suspicion of murder, and then turn your entire house upside down. Am I making myself clear?”

During the time he spent waiting for the reply, Gardener wondered if Corndell really had decided upon the second option.

Eventually, the intercom buzzed and the gates opened. Both detectives jumped into the car and cruised slowly down the drive. The door opened as they came to a stop. Gardener stepped inside to find Corndell still in his dressing gown. Underneath the gown he wore a pair of blue and white striped pyjamas, decorated with Winnie The Pooh logos. He knew better than to ask.

“Do you realise what time it is?” asked Corndell, pointing his mobile phone at them.

“Of course I do. I’ve been up since five o’clock this morning.”

“I’m not surprised,” replied Corndell, closing the door after Reilly had entered. “I do hope you’ve come to apologise for last night.” Corndell held his head high and his nose in the air as he glanced down at the pair of them. He placed the mobile in the pocket of his dressing gown.

“I have nothing to apologise for.”

“How dare you?” he shouted, jumping back, clenching and unclenching his hands. “You people have persecuted me–”

“I wouldn’t say persecuted!” replied Gardener, cutting him short. He did not want the situation escalating beyond his control. He was here for a reason, and he was going to make sure they stuck to the point. With his temper close to boiling point, he chose his words carefully.

“We’re investigating crimes of a very serious nature. We will conduct ourselves in a manner to which we see fit. Now if you have a problem with that, then you contact the police complaints commission, but quite frankly your case will not hold water.”

“I do apologise, Mr Gardener,” Corndell replied, his face softening immediately, childlike, “and please forgive my lack of manners. If you would like to come through to the conservatory, I shall make fresh tea for us all.”

Gardener suspected he was being manipulated because of the sudden change in Corndell’s manner. He told Reilly to join Corndell whilst the tea was made, not to let him out of his sight. Gardener stayed in the