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

the fact that I didn’t have a warrant, they wouldn’t tell me too much. What I did find out was that he has taken out large sums of money, and the bank is either not sure what he’s done with them, or won’t tell me.”

“Most likely the latter,” said Reilly.

“In that case, use the computers and the banks up here to find out what you can. My guess is, he’s set up accounts in different names and he’s used them to finance his little ventures, perhaps to hire transport. How else would he get around and do the things he’s done?”

“Makes sense, boss,” said Reilly. “We need somebody to help Colin. The quicker we get this bastard off the streets, the better.”

Gardener’s mobile phone chimed, which he quickly answered.

“Sir, it’s Frank.”

“Hello, Frank, what can I do for you?”

“We’ve just had a call from Mary Phillips. She wants to speak to you urgently.”

“She leave a number?” asked Gardener. Frank Thornton gave him the number and then mentioned that Briggs had been asking after him. Gardener called Mary Phillips.

“Oh, Mr Gardener, I’m so pleased you’ve called.”

“Is there a problem?” he asked.

“A little one. You asked me if I’d look and see if there were anything missing from Henry’s room, after you’d finished with it, like.”

“Is there?”

“Yes, love. It’s his mobile phone, I can’t find it anywhere.”

Chapter Forty-six

Gardener realised he still had no proof that Corndell had actually killed the nanny but it was stretching one’s imagination to believe someone else had done it. Also in his favour were the murders with the puzzles, the use of a lethal cocktail as a weapon of disposal, and Corndell’s genuine obsession with Lon Chaney.

Was that enough?

And where did the film Imperfection enter into the equation? He was convinced that it did... somehow. But even Malcolm had no recollection of such a film. A Google search revealed nothing.

That created another problem. Malcolm had been at the cinema all afternoon and Gardener had heard nothing from the officer trailing him, so everything must have been fine. Still, he hadn’t been able to settle.

When Chris had arrived home from school, the pair of them had spent an hour in the garage sorting through the Bonneville engine components, checking what could be re-used and what couldn’t. But even then his concentration was lacking. Eventually, Chris had finished up and gone to his room.

Gardener heard the front door open. He glanced at the kitchen clock. It was a little after six. He realised that he hadn’t yet prepared anything to eat. But it wasn’t the end of the world: worst-case scenario, they could all go out for a meal or phone for a take-away. As Malcolm entered the kitchen, he heard voices. “Stewart, I’d like you to meet someone.”

Gardener glanced over his father’s shoulder and noticed Martin Brown standing in the doorway.

“Mr Gardener,” said Brown, nodding. “I didn’t think I’d be seeing you again so soon.”

“The feeling’s mutual.”

“May I come in? There’s something I need to tell you.”

“Of course, come and sit down.”

“I’ll make us a cup of tea,” offered Malcolm.

Gardener was confused, concerned. His dad had gone to the cinema for an afternoon matinee. Having returned with Martin Brown, he suspected that something was wrong; but the old man appeared to be fine. “Is everything okay?”

“Depends what you mean by okay, son.”

Gardener wasn’t happy with his father’s evasive answer. “Has something happened? Are you okay?”

“I’m fine. We’re here, or should I say, Martin’s here, because he thinks he may owe you an apology, and he may also have disturbing news for you.”

Gardener sat back down and glanced at Martin Brown. If the man was here to speak, then he would let him.

“It’s about Corndell,” said Brown.

“Everything about him disturbs me. What’s he done now?”

“I’m not sure that he has. I met your father this afternoon for the first time. I had no idea who he was.” Martin Brown stopped talking while Malcolm put the tea on the table.

“We ended up in the cinema foyer during the interval,” said Malcolm.

“What did you go and see, anyway? You never said.”

“A Lon Chaney double bill, as it happens.”

Gardener grew cold at the mere mention of Chaney. “Which ones?”

“The Phantom of the Opera and The Hunchback of Notre Dame,” said Martin.

“The Hunchback was first,” said Malcolm. “At the interval I went out for a coffee and a chocolate bar, I felt a little peckish. As I turned around, Martin here knocked into me and I spilt my coffee. He ordered fresh drinks and we started talking. It turns out that he was sitting directly in front of me.”

“We talked about films in general, and Chaney, and how good he was,” continued Martin Brown. “And then Corndell slipped into the conversation. I told your father that I was in charge of the entertainment at the university and about the fiasco earlier in the week. Your father then told me who he was and who you were and what you were involved in.”

Gardener wondered how much his father had told Martin Brown. “Dad, you’re not really supposed to discuss police cases. In fact, I’m not supposed to discuss them with you.”

“Under normal circumstances I would agree, but these are not normal, and I am involved,” replied Malcolm. “I haven’t given away any secrets, but what we’ve stumbled across could prove useful.”

“Go on,” said Gardener.

Martin Brown sighed. “I booked William Henry Corndell because of what I’d thought had been a glittering career. Everything I’d heard, and seen for that matter, was nothing short of stunning. The man is an absolute genius with make-up. He can do anything. I’ve seen him on the London stage for The Phantom–”

“You actually saw him play the part?” interrupted Gardener.

“No. I had a friend