Philips Pocket Memo, and drove back.
Pulling up beside the Maxi, I said, “Get in.”
Sergeant Fraser, a raincoat over his uniform, walked round the back of the Viva and got in.
I pulled out of the forecourt and turned left up the B6134 to Featherstone.
Sergeant Fraser, arms folded, stared straight ahead.
For one moment, I felt like I’d stepped into an alternate world straight out of Dr fucking Who, where I was the cop and Fraser was not, where I was good and he was not.
“Where are we going?” said Fraser.
“We’re here.” I pulled into a lay-by just past a red caravan selling teas and pies.
Turning off the engine, I said, “You want anything?”
“No, you’re all right.”
“Am I? You know Sergeant Craven and his mate?”
“Yeah. Everyone knows them.”
“You know them well?”
“By reputation.”
I stared out of the brown mud-stained window, over the low brown hedges dividing the flat brown fields with their lone brown trees.
“Why?” said Fraser.
I took a photograph of Clare Kemplay out of my pocket, one of her lying on a hospital slab, a swan’s wing stitched into her back.
I handed the photo to Fraser. “I think either Craven or his partner gave me this.”
“Fuck. Why?”
“They’re setting me up.”
“Why?”
I pointed to the carrier bag at Fraser’s feet. “It’s all in there.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah. Transcripts, documents, photographs. Everything you need.”
“Transcripts?”
“I’ve got the original tapes and I’ll hand them over when you decide you need them. Don’t worry, it’s all there.”
“It better be,” said Fraser, peering into the bag.
I took two pieces of paper from inside my jacket and gave one of them to Fraser. “Knock on this door.”
“Flat 5, 3 Spencer Mount, Chapeltown,” read Fraser.
I put the other piece back in my pocket. “Yeah.”
“Who lives here?”
“Barry James Anderson; he’s an acquaintance of Barry Cannon’s and the star of some of the snaps and tapes you’ll find in the bag.”
“Why are you giving me him?”
I stared out towards the ends of the flat brown fields, at blue skies turning white.
“I’ve got nothing else left to give.”
Fraser put the piece of paper inside his pocket, taking out a notebook.
“What have you got for me?”
“Not so bloody much,” said Fraser, opening the notebook.
“His confession?”
“Not verbatim.”
“Details?”
“There aren’t any.”
“What’s he said about Jeanette Garland?”
“He’s copped for it. That’s it.”
“Susan Ridyard?”
“Same.”
“Fuck.”
“Yeah,” said Sergeant Eraser.
“You think he did them?”
“He’s the one confessing.”
“He say where he did all these things?”
“His Underground Kingdom.”
“He’s not all there.”
“Who is?” sighed Fraser.
In the green car, by the brown field, under the white sky, I said, “Is that it?”
Sergeant Fraser looked down at the notebook in his hands and said, “Mandy Wymer.”
“Fuck.”
“Neighbour found her yesterday about 9 AM She had been raped, scalped, and hung with wire from a light fitting.”
“Scalped?”
“Like Indians do.”
“Fuck.”
“They’re keeping that from your lot,” smiled Fraser.
“Scalped,” I whispered.
“Cats had had a go too. Real horror show stuff.”
“Fuck.”
“Your ex-boss turned you in,” said Fraser and closed the notebook.
“They think I fucking did it?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“You’re a journalist.”
“So?”
“So they think you might know who did it.”
“Why me?”
“Because you must have been one of the last fucking people to see her alive, that’s why.”
“Fuck.”
“She mention her husband?”
“She didn’t say anything.”
Sergeant Fraser flicked open the notebook again. “Neighbours have told us that Miss Wymer was involved in some kind of argument on Tuesday afternoon. According to your former employer, that must have been either just before or just after she saw you.”
“I don’t know anything about that.”
Sergeant Fraser looked me in the eye and closed his notebook again.
He said, “I think you’re lying.”
“Why would I?”
“I don’t know, force of habit?”
I turned and looked out over the dead brown hedge at the dead brown field with its dead brown tree.
“What did she say about Clare Kemplay?” said Fraser quietly.
“Nothing much.”
“Like what?”
“You think there’s a link?”
“Obviously.”
“How?” I said, my dry mouth cracking, my wet heart thumping.
“Fuck, how do you think they’re linked? She was working the cases.”
