The Scribbler Iain Maitland (good books to read txt) 📖

nodded and then added, “Okay, the second strand then, Aland. Quite a coincidence that he was at the care home and acted so suspiciously and, when we look into Karen Williams’ death, he happens to be there, too, don’t you think?”

“I think Karen Williams simply had a meal with Aland – a work colleague, a would-be lover, someone maybe who was going to fix her car for her for cash, who knows – and then left and was knocked down and killed by … well, anyone really. A drink or drugs driver. Someone not paying attention. A couple arguing. Someone nodding off. It’s a dark road, it twists and turns. Maybe she’d had a drink … they’d had an argument … she stumbled off a muddy path into the road without thinking … who knows? Shit happens, guv, you know? All the time.”

He nodded as he turned the car into the care home’s car park.

Pulled up and turned and smiled at her.

“Let’s go and find out for sure then, Carrie.”

* * *

“Wait, guv.” Carrie reached out and touched Gayther’s arm as he went to open the car door. “I don’t think we should just go steaming in. Mrs Coombes said she’ll complain to the chief if we came back. We don’t want her coming down hard on us. We need to be subtle here, don’t we? We want more of a gentle touch.”

Gayther sat back in his seat. “Okay, Carrie, so what do you suggest we do?”

“What exactly do we want to achieve, guvnor?”

Gayther say quietly for a moment before he answered. “First of all, I want Sally and Jen … Miss Bright … Mrs Smith … anyone who might have seen The Scribbler on one of his two visits … to have sight of the photos of Challis, Halom and Burgess … if anyone recognises one of them, is absolutely sure, then we’ve got our man.”

“And if they don’t? Can we discard Challis and the others as prime suspects?”

Gayther shrugged. “A clear ID rules them, or at least one of them, in. Not recognising them still leaves them all in the frame. It means he’s been clever … or lucky … or they just weren’t very observant.”

“How about I slip in with the photos? Hope no one knows anything about PACE,” Carrie said. “Ask at the reception for Sally and Jen; chances are one or other will be working today. I can then show them the photos and, if they don’t recognise anyone, I can ask them to show the other care assistants and residents who might have seen him. I’ll leave them my mobile number.”

“Good idea.” Gayther handed her the photos. “Tear round the edges really carefully so there’s no other information on the page – I know Challis had his sons on there. Right to privacy and all that. No point in asking for trouble,” he added.

He watched as Carrie took each picture in turn and tore the edges as neatly as she could.

“Detective work, Carrie. Bet you didn’t think you’d be doing this.”

She laughed as she finished tearing around the last photo. “All part of the job, guv.”

She stopped and looked at the three torn and scruffy pages and thought they didn’t look very professional, although she kept the thought to herself.

“Very good, Carrie, very good.”

She laughed again as she opened the car door. Leaned back in after she got out.

“Wish me luck, guv. I might need it.”

Gayther sat there nodding. Then waited patiently, watching Carrie as she crossed the car park and entered the care home. He sat still a little longer to see if she came straight back out. If Mrs Coombes were on reception, or close by, he guessed that Carrie would not get as far as meeting Sally or Jen.

He thought for a while, wishing that he still smoked, could do with a cigarette now as he mulled over what to do next. He had tried chewing gum, as a replacement, but it had pulled the crown off a tooth and his dentist told him to avoid anything chewy or sticky in future. Something else to add to the lengthening list of things he could no longer eat.

Aland bothered him. He did not know why. He accepted that he was not The Scribbler, could not possibly be, all things considered. But there was something not quite right. It was too much of a coincidence that he was with Karen Williams no more than an hour or so before her death. It niggled away at the back of his mind. There was something obvious that he was overlooking, something right in front of him. He couldn’t place it, though.

Gayther knew he needed to step back from Aland and that, if Aland was in some way mixed up with Karen Williams, he had to leave it to whoever was investigating her death. Do no more than tell his fellow officers that the man with her at the pub was Aland, or certainly looked like him.

But then he looked up. Saw Aland driving a van into the car park and around the corner into the staff parking area.

Realised Aland had not seen him.

Gayther dropped down, as if he were reaching for something in the passenger footwell, and then stayed there. He hoped Aland would not recognise his car, which he would have seen the other day as he was weeding.

He counted the seconds, to thirty, forty, fifty and then sixty. Wasn’t sure how long he should wait. He knew if he raised his head and Aland saw him there would be trouble of some kind; Aland running to Mrs Coombes and her complaining to the Chief Constable. He could do without that.

He kept counting, to 90, 120, 150 and finally 180 seconds. Then raised his head up slowly. Aland was nowhere to be seen. He was not sure whether the handyman had walked by the car and into reception, or if there was a back-door entrance out of sight near the staff parking area.

Gayther got