IMPURITY by Ray Clark (which ebook reader txt) 📕

not down the stairs. Whoever the killer is, I think they shot straight out of here, barged into him. The rest is history.”

Gardener heard Fitz’s arrival two floors below. He used the stepping plates to stride back into the room. The locations and the conditions in which the victims lived were beginning to piss him off. Dirty people in dirty surroundings. How anyone could live in such squalor was beyond him. Pete Nash, however, was not part of the equation. He had been an accident. Singh suddenly reared up at Briggs. “The man was a liar, a thief, and a cheat.” He then turned to Gardener. “You go look in the bathroom. Two suitcases.”

“Sean, take a look, please. What are you suggesting, Mr Singh?”

“He was leaving. Look at the apartment, it’s bare!”

Gardener couldn’t tell. He’d naturally assumed that Singh was one of those landlords who charged the Earth for their accommodation, showed up once a week for the rent, and then conveniently disappeared when faced with complaints or repairs. “What’s missing?”

“Everything!” said Singh, waving his hands around once more. “Bathroom empty of towels, toilet rolls, shaving equipment. His clothes are in suitcases. Everything! People always take advantage of me.”

Gardener wondered why Myers had planned to leave. He stood with his hands in his pockets, scrutinizing every inch of the room. Myers was not taking a holiday. His living arrangement was his choice. There were no personal ornaments, no paintings, no magazines, no newspapers, no photo-frames containing pictures of immediate family. On the walls, lighter patches indicated there had been paintings. There was nothing at all to tell them about the man who’d been killed.

Was Myers an associate of Plum and Thornwell? Perhaps he was. Maybe he’d found out who was responsible for their deaths. Maybe it was Summers. Had Myers also worked for Summers? If he had, why hadn’t Summers told them? He must have known it would trace back to him. With Myers dead, would they find Summers had vanished?

Reilly appeared at the door. “I’ve found something you might want to see, amongst his personal documents.” Reilly handed Gardener an old invoice, a bill for commission, from Derek Summers. From behind his back, he produced a Santa hat. At least one of his questions had been answered.

Gardener passed the invoice to Briggs.

He scanned it, glancing at the senior officer. “Summers didn’t tell you about Myers, did he?”

Gardener shook his head as he stepped over to the window and opened it. He needed fresh air. Outside, amidst the desolation, still no one had gathered to see what was going down.

He turned back to Briggs, his finger pointing accusingly, his anger evident in his voice.

“Summers knows about all of these deaths, and I’ll lay odds he knows why.”

“Maybe he does. Bring me hard evidence.”

“Haven’t we got enough evidence here? Why is he withholding information? What is he hiding?”

Briggs glanced at the landlord. “Mr Singh, would you go downstairs now, please? I’d like a private word with my officers. We’ll sort it out from here.”

Singh left, complaining about the mess and the rent arrears and how he was going back to Asia.

Briggs turned to Gardener, who was now in conference with his sergeant. “Reilly, what are your thoughts on Summers?”

“I agree with the boss. It wasn’t what he told us, it was what he left out. I got the impression he was too careful with his answers.”

Briggs eyed Gardener. “Did he make any reference to Myers? Or anyone else that worked for him, apart from the two dead ones?”

“No. But he’s hiding something. I don’t know what, but so help me God, I’m going to find out. Look at the evidence. Three elderly men, all dead, all living alone in slums. All working for Summers. Maybe it’s a grudge. Maybe they have something on him.”

“So, what else do you know about him?”

“Nothing,” answered Gardener. “You had to be there to know what I’m talking about. He’s sly. He’s creepy, and he’s lying. I asked Colin Sharp to look into his background.”

“I think the boss is right,” Reilly added. “That man makes your spine tingle. He didn’t show an ounce of concern that his employees had been killed.”

“What do you want to do?” Briggs asked.

“We’re going back this afternoon. I want a Section 8 search warrant for his property and anything else I want. Even if Summers isn’t the killer, I’m pretty sure he’s involved. There’s a link, and I’m going to find it.”

Briggs was about to respond when Fitz walked into the room. “Nothing new here, then,” said the pathologist.

“Steve Fenton has another syringe, Fitz.”

Fenton passed it over.

“Anything else I need to know?”

“No,” said Gardener, “I think we’re about finished. Steve, you and your team carry on searching.”

Gardener turned to the pathologist. “Fitz, the body downstairs, anything to tell me?”

“I’d estimate time of death around ten o’clock last night. I can’t say for certain, but I think the fall killed him. I’ll know more when I’ve examined him.”

Gardener walked out of the room and called PC Benson up the stairs. “Benson, the team is on their way. Take a couple of constables with you and comb the area. I doubt you’ll find anything, but try all the same.”

Gardener pointed at the syringe Fitz held. “Fitz, I need the analysis as quickly as possible.”

Fitz nodded.

Gardener turned back into the room and stood silent for a moment. He strode over to the DVD player, bent down, ejected the disc. He put it back in and waited for it to load before pressing the play button.

When the action started, Briggs’ jaw dropped. “Oh, Jesus Christ!”

They watched, horrified, as the two missing teenage girls, whom they’d all struggled to find, were degraded in front of their eyes. The perverted recipient of their attentions was none other than