the whole thing. Let’s face it, he knew all four of them. He doesn’t much care about their deaths. He keeps packets of syringes, supposedly for medical reasons. Perhaps the reason he told us was because it wouldn’t make a blind bit of difference. Whatever Clayton knew, he would take it to his grave. Summers would get to him before we could.”

Gardener thought it was good enough, but he had not actually seen him in the store. Although he had not read all the witness statements before leaving, he did ask for a list of names and addresses they had collected until that point. Summers was not on that list. Which, admittedly, didn’t mean much.

“Have you seen Colin Sharp?” Gardener asked Reilly.

“Not since you gave him his project.”

“I need to pin him down. If we’re going to learn anything about Summers, we need to find out what Sharp has. What does bother me is that although there’s no one else in the frame, I’m not entirely convinced it is Summers.”

“The curare?”

“And whatever’s in here.” Gardener lifted the syringe.

“There might be more than one. Summers may not have the knowledge, but what about his butler?”

Gardener rolled his eyes and shook his head. “It’s possible. The real brains behind it could be Jeeves, or whatever his name is. Summers would have the ability and the strength, the butler supplies the knowledge.”

Reilly drove the car through the double gates to Gardener’s house, onto the red brick drive. He parked the car and switched off the engine before jumping out.

Gardener glanced at his partner. “You’re a deep thinker for an Irishman.”

“I’ll be taking that as a compliment, shall I?”

“Naturally,” said Gardener.

“You’re all heart, Yorkshireman.” Reilly slapped Gardener on the back. “To be sure, I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“You need me to keep your feet on the ground. By now you’d have killed Summers and moved on to the next case.”

Reilly erupted with laughter. “I think it’s time I moved on to the next partner.”

Gardener checked around the house. No one was home. “I need a change of clothes, then we’ll go and see Fitz. Help yourself to coffee. And can you do me a favour? Ring and find out where Summers is.”

Chapter Fifty-nine

Gardener showered and donned fresh clothing within twenty minutes. He selected a new pale blue shirt he’d bought at the sales at the weekend, with a pair of black corduroy trousers. Back in the kitchen, he hung his leather jacket over a chair. His hat was on the table where he’d left it.

“Any luck with Summers?” Gardener asked, filling a glass of water from the tap. He put his glass down and picked up Spook, who was circling round his legs. “Hello, Spooky, what are you doing inside?” He put the cat back on the floor and poured a saucer of milk.

“No,” said Reilly. “At least if he’d been in all morning, he would have had an alibi.”

“We’d only have the butler’s word for it.”

“He’ll be down in the cellar, concocting more of his potions. You know, while I’ve been sitting here on my own, I’ve been thinking...”

“I thought I could smell burning.”

Reilly grinned. “I hope that transfer request comes through. No, seriously. It’s an awfully big house for one person and a butler, don’t you think? I had the impression yesterday that I didn’t see all of it.”

“False panels and secret rooms?”

“It wouldn’t surprise me.”

“It’s strange you should say that. On Saturday, in the study, I could smell perfume. And it was stronger by the door in the corner. The library. Is there any way out through there?”

Reilly shrugged his shoulders. “None that I could see.”

Gardener sipped his water, thinking about it. He flipped his mobile, called the station. Colin Sharp wasn’t there. Briggs had requested that Gardener be put through to him if he called. Gardener hung up before the conversation went any further. He tried Sharp’s mobile but gained no answer. “Try Summers again.”

Reilly did, but there was still no answer.

Gardener finished his drink, placed his empty glass in the sink. “Let me show you something before we go.”

Gardener took Reilly into the garage. He switched on the lights. Reilly whistled through his teeth when he saw the Bonneville. Although not fully dismantled, there was little left to strip from the chassis. Gardener caught the smell of oil, and the paraffin he’d been using to clean the smaller parts with.

“So, this is what Sarah bought you?”

Gardener nodded. “Nice, isn’t it?”

“She’s a beauty. I never took you for a biker.”

“I was, in my younger days. Could never afford one of these. Then when I could, Sarah and Chris came along, and it seemed more practical to get a car. Couldn’t afford both, so the dream had to go.”

“What are you going to do with it?”

“I’m not sure.”

“What would Sarah have wanted you to do?”

Gardener thought for a few moments. “She would have told me to ride it at least once. See if it was everything I thought it would be.”

Reilly slapped him on the shoulder. “There’s your answer, then, son. Just promise me one thing.”

“What’s that?”

“You get two crash helmets. I’d like a wee go on this beauty.”

Gardener smiled. “You’re on.”

“Mind you, we’ll not be getting far on this.” Reilly had what was left of the seat in his hands. “How much is a new one?”

“I’ve no idea.”

“Maybe you should ring your man. You know, the one we met in Rawston.”

Gardener paused, glancing at his watch “That’s a good idea. Can’t see them being cheap, but when we’ve seen Fitz, I’ll take you up on that. You haven’t seen my Dad pottering around, have you?”

Reilly shook his head. Although the back door was locked, Gardener still paid a

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