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

“What the hell is that?” asked Reilly.

Fitz drew out Janine’s tongue. It was red raw, inflamed. “He’s very carefully removed the top layer of skin from her tongue.”

Briggs stared at the ceiling and sighed. “Did he do that when she was alive?”

“There wouldn’t be much point when she was dead,” replied Fitz.

“Oh Jesus,” said Briggs.

“Someone must have heard the screams,” said Reilly.

“How?” Gardener asked. “It’s not as if someone’s going to stand around while you pull out their tongue and then slice off the top layer of skin, is it?”

“I wondered about that,” said Fitz.

“Is that what the ephedrine was all about? He’s drugged her so he could perform delicate surgery?” asked Gardener.

“I don’t think so. There are traces of a very mild sedative in her bloodstream as well. For what it’s worth, I think he entered the shop and used the element of surprise to take advantage. They’ve had a bit of a fight, which he won by exerting his strength. You can see that by the bruising.” Fitz pointed to the top of her left arm. “If you focus just here, there’s a pin-prick where he’s injected the sedative. That made her drowsy, more co-operative.

“I suspect he’s then taken his time to set up precisely how he wants her, and waited for the sedative to wear off before carrying out the second part of his plan, which was removing the top layer of skin from her tongue. And he also appears to have scraped her fingernails clean. In fact, they’re immaculate. I’d say that’s because he doesn’t want what’s underneath being used against him.”

“Like Trevor Thorpe said, he’s very precise,” said Briggs.

“So, where does this drug come in?” said Gardener. “The one that’s made from sherry and nuts?”

Fitz sighed. “He had another purpose in mind. You see, ephedrine is a relief for asthma sufferers, but it can have diabolical side effects if you raise someone’s sense of fear to the limit and then administer lethal doses of the cocktail he’s mixed up. Combined with adrenaline, it eventually causes a stroke. But before you die, the agony would be immeasurable.”

“Is that what she died of?” asked Briggs. “A stroke?”

“In the end, yes, but one drawn on through careful calculation.”

“Why is he going to such lengths?” asked Briggs.

“Because he can,” replied Gardener. “It’s like your profiler said, he’s exerting his power. But I think it’s more than that, I think he’s making a point. We just don’t know what it is.”

“Any recorded case, Fitz?” asked Reilly.

“Not that I’m aware of. But better use of the police computers and the internet may provide us with clues. It’s a very clinical and precise way of killing someone. It’s almost as if he’s perfected the technique.”

“You think he’s used the method before?” asked Gardener.

“It’s worth keeping an open mind,” said Fitz.

“Stewart, Sean,” said Briggs. “Pull out all the stops and find this bloke!”

“We’ll have one of the lads draw up a list of all thespians living in the area, while Sean and I go and interview the one living in Horsforth.”

“Before you go rushing anywhere,” said Fitz, “I haven’t finished.”

“What else has he done?” asked Briggs, as if he couldn’t believe there would be anything else.

Fitz walked over to the stainless-steel counter at the back of the room. “I found this inserted in her anus.”

“What is it?” asked Gardener.

“It’s a glass tube,” said Fitz. “There are no signs of sexual abuse. And the tube wasn’t inserted into her anus for sexual reasons.” Fitz picked up the glass vial, held it out in front of him. “The next puzzle is in here.”

Seeing as the pathologist was the only one wearing gloves, no one else volunteered. After Fitz had removed the paper and unrolled it, they could see another verse had been printed on the same style paper as before.

Another one gone … how many more?

Pity you couldn’t save this little whore

I’ve left puzzles and clues, but you haven’t got very far

Here’s another: follow The Scarlet Car

I implore you again, to study your needs

Another is all set to fall, down and out, in Leeds.

Chapter Twenty-nine

As Reilly pulled the car to a halt outside the wrought iron gates, Gardener jumped out and surveyed what could only be described as a kingdom. He gazed upwards, wondering whether or not Corndell was simply security conscious or totally paranoid. The gates were electronically controlled, which opened onto a gravel drive surrounded by pine trees, all under the watchful eye of CCTV cameras. He couldn’t see the house, but he could guess its size.

Reilly stepped up beside Gardener. “Remind you of anyone?”

Gardener glanced at his partner. “Derek Summers?”

“One and the same. Let’s hope these entertainment types are not all tarred with the same brush.”

Gardener shuddered as he recalled the havoc a group of paedophiles led by Summers had caused him and his partner three months previously: he’d been beaten within an inch of his life, his son had been kidnapped, his father had gone through hell, and he’d lost the only woman who’d meant anything to him after his late wife Sarah. But through it all, his friend and partner Sean Reilly had stood by his side, fighting all the way.

“God forbid, Sean. I don’t think I could deal with another one.”

“I’m not sure which is worse. Summers was bad enough, I’ll grant you, but whoever is torturing and killing people the way this bloke does is on another level.”

Gardener stood with his hands in his pockets. The bright March morning with its clear blue sky added to the postcard view before him. “This is one hell of a place. I can’t wait for a proper look.”

“You’d better press the intercom, then.”

Gardener