IMPOSTURE: Hunters become the hunted in this gripping murder mystery Ray Clark (lightest ebook reader TXT) 📖

“Erratic,” replied Gardener. “His walking wasn’t coordinated. When he was on the ground his body was trembling.”

Briggs placed the report on his desk. “You know what’s coming now, don’t you? I have to ask this as a matter of form, did you at any point think to call it a Hazchem scene? Because it seems obvious to me that this man has been given something, and the first thing that springs to mind is a nerve agent. You realise how serious that could be?”

“I do, sir, but in my considered opinion it wasn’t a Hazchem scene. In Fitz’s opinion he’d been injected with something and despite the symptoms it wasn’t considered to be contagious.”

“Has Fitz confirmed that?”

“Not yet.”

“So it still could be,” said Briggs, sighing. He turned to Reilly. “What’s your opinion?”

“I’m with the boss on this one.”

“Christ,” sighed Briggs, “you two are like glue. I’m not asking if you’re siding with him. I’m not stupid enough to think you’d do any different. What I’m asking is, what’s your opinion on what he was given; you’ve probably had more experience than anyone in this field.”

“Judging by everything I saw, the staggering, the breathing problems, the obvious pain, it could have been any number of things but I don’t think anyone has anything to worry about. Besides which, we’ve heard nothing else.”

Gardener realised Reilly was also being economical with his summary because he hadn’t seen any of those things. His partner had arrived on the scene after Michael Foreman had died.

Gardener intervened. “If I’d thought that it was a Hazchem scene I’d have called it.”

“Okay,” said Briggs, signing off the policy report, “there’s no point labouring over it. I accept your decision. You seem to have it all in hand and you’ve got your team chasing up leads, but for God’s sake, keep me posted.” The senior ranking officer glanced up again and met Gardener’s eyes. “If anything develops from this it won’t just be your badge, we’ll all be signing on.”

“In all fairness,” said Gardener, “if anything was going to develop it would have done by now. We’d have had half the population of Leeds filling every hospital corridor, and it would be all over the TV.”

“Fair point,” said Briggs. “I did see something on the news last night but they were very vague.”

“That’s down to me,” said Gardener. “I made sure the press couldn’t see too much of the scene on Bond Street. You know what they’re like.”

Reilly took over. “If we’d let them lot see what was going on they’d have started an epidemic on their own. The marquee was up in record time, and the boss man here said very little at the press conference.”

Briggs’ expression was priceless, as his bottom jaw nearly hit the desk. “You held a press conference?”

“There was no one else,” retorted Gardener.

“You could have let him do it,” said Briggs, pointing to Reilly.

“Are you kidding? There’s no telling what he’d have said.”

“You’re too hard on me,” said Reilly, “I speak the same language as you lot.”

“I don’t doubt it,” replied Gardener, “we’re just not quite sure on the order of the words.”

Briggs laughed and closed the policy book.

“Okay, keep me informed of everything that happens. I know I’m changing subjects now, any news on your missing person case?”

Gardener cringed. He hated not being able to solve a problem, or apprehend a guilty criminal, but he knew that it was simply impossible to catch everyone. It may even be one of those cold cases that he would keep in an office drawer and take with him to his grave.

“Nothing, I’m afraid. As you know, he disappeared one night four months ago, never to be seen again.”

“He’ll turn up,” said Reilly, “bad pennies always do.”

“I wouldn’t worry too much about it, Stewart,” said Briggs. “We can’t catch everyone. Someone is always going to slip the net; but he has a track record, doesn’t he? Maybe five years down the line he’ll show up somewhere with one of the travelling fairs and we might have our chance to nab him.”

“Maybe,” said Gardener, “but how many more women are going to suffer at his hands?”

“How many victims suffer every day in someone’s hands?” countered Briggs. “We’ll never apprehend them all, Stewart. But despite all that, never lose sight of the fact that you two do a bloody good job. You’re out there all weathers and your dedication to the job and your team is as good as anyone I’ve ever seen, so don’t beat yourselves up.”

It wasn’t very often Briggs gave out compliments so to hear that was music to Gardener’s ears.

Reilly jumped in quick, changing subjects again. “How was London? Anything important we need to know?”

“No,” sighed Briggs, placing his elbows on the desk and arching his hands, “usual stuff about police budget cuts, blaming it on anything but the truth–”

The phone cut short whatever Briggs was going to say. After three rings he answered.

“Briggs.” The DCI’s expression darkened. “Yes, he’s with me now.”

Briggs passed the phone to Gardener. “Who is it?” he asked.

“Williams, front desk.”

Gardener took the phone. “David?”

“Just taken a phone call, sir, something I think you should know about.”

Gardener’s adrenaline started to race. “Go on.”

“We have another body on Butts Court.”

Gardener’s heart sunk. His expression must have changed considerably because Briggs was mouthing the words “what’s wrong”.

“Where exactly is it?”

“Virtually the same place,” replied Williams.

“How can that be?” asked Gardener. “We had a police presence there all night.”

“I don’t know all the finer details, sir.”

“Who found it?”

“Lady called Elaine Kirk, she works for Slaters Menswear on Albion Street. She came out for a cigarette and found him.”

“Same state?” questioned Gardener. “Staggering around?”

“No, definitely not. By the look of