IMPERFECTION by Ray Clark (good books to read for women TXT) 📕

shopkeeper in the arcade. Find out what they know about Alan Cuthbertson and Janine Harper and the customers who come in here on a regular basis. I’d also like a couple of you out front on the streets today, question everyone you see. Find out if they were in the town last night. Did they see anyone they considered eccentric?”

He turned to Briggs. Despite his loathing of the press, he knew he would have to use them.

“I think we’d better ask the press to appeal for witnesses.”

Chapter Twenty-three

“What do you think, Sean?”

“About Cuthbertson? I’ll know better when we’ve spoken to him, boss.”

They were sitting in Gardener’s office ahead of the interview. As usual, Reilly was dressed in a brown leather bomber jacket and jeans. He emptied the contents of a coffee cup, and then threw it into the bin at the side of the desk.

Gardener was sitting with his hands bridged and his chin resting on them. He’d been reading the scribbled notes submitted by the officers who had interviewed the other shopkeepers in the arcade. “The comments from his colleagues are not very favourable.”

“Go on,” said Reilly.

“The guy who runs the camera shop next door reckons he’s a loner, keeps odd hours, a little strange with his behaviour, rarely socialises. I have the impression he doesn’t like Cuthbertson.”

“We both know there’s nothing wrong with that description, boss. He could be talking about you. But you’re no killer.”

“How do you know?” laughed Gardener. He really appreciated the working relationship he had with the Irishman. Had it not been for Sean Reilly, he doubted very much he would have overcome the effect of Sarah’s death quite so readily. “It’s not that so much, Sean. Battersby reckons he’s quiet and subdued a lot of the time, as if he has things on his mind. Never discusses his private life, leaves the shop at all hours.”

“Did he know why Janine Harper was working late at night on her own?” asked Reilly.

“No. Battersby noticed the lights were on, but he had no idea who was there. He doubted it would be Cuthbertson. Something about his manner doesn’t add up, though,” said Gardener. “I appreciate the death of his assistant would have an effect, but I thought he was too preoccupied.”

“Perhaps he did it, boss. Maybe the silent treatment was a good piece of acting while he thought up an alibi for where he was yesterday.”

“Maybe. According to Battersby he left the shop around four o’clock.”

“Okay, so there’s his opportunity. It must take a good three or four hours to apply make-up to the quality that this man needs. But we still need a motive, and he could have an alibi.”

“Battersby left at six-thirty.”

“Did he see Cuthbertson come back?”

“No, and he didn’t see Janine Harper leaving either,” replied Gardener.

“Did he say anything about their relationship?”

Gardener rifled through the notes in front of him. “No, except that they were total opposites. At times, she could be quite lively. They did have their differences, which appears to have been the usual thing, young versus old. Fresh ideas coming up against aged resistance.”

A knock on the door interrupted their conversation. Colin Sharp’s head appeared around the side of the door. “He’s cleaned up and ready to talk now, sir.”

“Thanks. We’ll be there in five minutes.”

“There’s something else you ought to know.”

“Go on,” said Gardener.

“There’s a lot of marks on his body.”

“What kind of marks?” Reilly asked.

“Scratches, bites. Bruises.”

“Has he now?” said Gardener. “Are they fresh?”

“They’re recent, but I wouldn’t like to say when.”

Gardener gathered up the notes and returned them to the folder. “Time to go and find out what they’re all about.”

Chapter Twenty-four

“Is it the work of the same killer?”

The question was from Johnny Stevens, an experienced journalist with The Yorkshire Post. Alan Briggs knew he had served his time on some of the worst cases in the county, the Yorkshire Ripper to name but one. He was a bloodhound, well paid. Delivered results. A meeting with the press was the last thing Alan Briggs wanted right now. The day started terribly with the discovery of Janine Harper’s body, and became worse when he was summoned to a meeting with his superior – who shouted loud enough to wake the dead. Now it hit an all-time low because Gardener was otherwise engaged.

Not that Gardener would have cared. Offering him a press meeting was like serving up garlic bread to Dracula. As much as he admired Gardener’s dedication to the job and the reason for his hatred of the press, he would have much preferred to interview Alan Cuthbertson.

“There are similarities between the two murders. We are taking into consideration the theatrical and geographical links.”

“Oh come on, Briggs.”

“Hey!” The DCI raised his hand, stopped the reporter there. “Mister Briggs to you, if you don’t mind.”

“Okay, Mr Briggs,” Stevens repeated the name with distaste. “Who has he killed this time?”

“You know very well I’m not at liberty to say.”

“Is it a child?” shouted another reporter.

“No, it is not a child.”

“Has he killed another thespian, Mr Briggs?”

Briggs took his time in answering because he knew what would come next. But he couldn’t hold out forever. “No.”

Johnny Stevens was on his feet again. “The public have a right to know what’s going on, Mr Briggs. We have a duty to tell them, and you have one to tell us.”

“I agree that the public have a right to know, son, and as soon as we have something concrete to tell them, we will. But this meeting is about utilising the newspapers to appeal for witnesses. We want the public of Leeds to keep their eyes open, report anything unusual.”

Another reporter jumped down his throat. The questions were coming thick and fast. “Do you have any