Birthdays for the dead

Chapter 46

The Snooze-U-Like Inn on Martyr Road was a Rubik s cube, where all the sides were the same colour: grey. Henry s ancient Volvo estate was the only thing in the car park until Alice slid the Renault in next to it.

She looked up at the bland frontage with its little square windows. Snow drifted down from the gunmetal sky. Still nothing?

I fidgeted with the collar on my borrowed shirt. Everything Alice s uncle owned was just a bit too big, but at least it didn t stink of blood and sweat and vomit. Come on, Henry, answer the bloody phone It rang through to voicemail again. I hung up.

She hopped out of the car, breath pluming around her head.

I ll go get him.

Five minutes later and there was still no sign of her.

I climbed out into the cold.

It took me a dozen steps to get used to the cane Alice s aunt Jan had lent me leaning on the polished mahogany handle every time my right foot touched the ground, lurching from side to side as I hobbled towards the hotel entrance.

The nerve block was great couldn t feel a thing.

I pushed through into the reception area. Scuffed carpet tiles, faded wallpaper, dusty plastic pot plants, and a bored-looking man behind the desk.

The receptionist glanced up from his copy of the Daily Mail.

You got a reservation?

Fucking thousands of them. Henry Forrester: where is he?

Room seventeen, first floor. Mr Daily Mail pointed towards a set of double doors. Lift s out of order.

Brilliant, more stairs.

I puffed and panted up to the first floor, paused for a second to catch my breath, then limped into a dingy corridor. A door at the far end lay open, the number 17 picked out in brass on the scuffed brown paint, a DO NOT DISTURB hanging from the handle.

Television noises oozed out into the hall some snooty woman s voice banging on about the interest rates.

They were watching the bloody news, as if we had all the time in the world. As if he wasn t going to kill my little girl at five.

For fuck s sake.

I lurched down the corridor. Henry Bloody Forrester, get your lazy drunken arse downstairs, now

Alice appeared in the doorway, both arms wrapped around herself, bottom lip trembling, a drip shining on the end of her nose. Ash

I stopped. Where is he?

She stared at the threadbare carpet. He s gone. A tear sparkled in the dim light, then plopped onto the toe of her red shoes.

What do you mean, he s No. I pushed past into the room.

Sheba was on the bed, on her side, completely still. Henry lay beside her, dressed in his funeral suit, an empty Macallan bottle at his fingertips, a clear plastic bag over his head the sides streaked with condensation.

He was cold to the touch, no pulse. The ancient dog was the same.

She s dead It isn t I can t.

And I d called him a useless drunken old bastard.

Alice shuffled in behind me. These were on the bedside cabinet. She held out a small white pill tub.

Fluvoxamine. The antidepressant he was taking in Shetland.

She sniffed. Cleared her throat. Rubbed a hand across her eyes. Took a big shuddering breath. He left a note.

Sodding hell: she d found her mother in the bath with slit wrists. And now this.

Henry, you stupid selfish old bastard. thoughts and prayers are with the families at this time. Both girls birthdays are today and we can only imagine how their parents are feeling.

Do you think Megan Taylor and Katie Henderson are already dead?

Well, we have no concrete evidence that the so called

Birthday Boy kills his victims on their

I switched off the car radio. Are you OK?

A shaft of sunlight broke through the clouds, making the wet road sparkle. The streets were arranged in neatly ordered rows: old-fashioned houses with four-pane windows and gardens out the front. Beech trees in cast-iron cages dotted the pavements.

Alice wiped at her eyes, smudging the black makeup even further.

I m fine.

It s OK to be

We should have called the police.

I softened my voice, put a hand on her shoulder. Henry won t mind waiting. We ve only got two and a bit hours. He d understand.

She sniffed, wiped her eyes again. Right, yes, I m being silly, I mean he s already dead We ve got a job to do. A little shudder. Then she peered out through the windscreen. Are you sure about this?

ACC Drummond s house sat back behind a beech hedge and a small granite wall two gateposts either side of a gravel driveway. But then the Wynd was that kind of neighbourhood.

Think about it: Drummond says he needs the families addresses so he can plan the work roster, but why spread the PNC searches out across so many people? Why not give the whole lot to Weber, or one of the DIs? Why divvy up the work himself? He doesn t want anyone to know what he s up to.

I opened my door.

She put a hand on my arm. Ash, you ve been shot, you ve been taking drugs, you ve lost a lot of blood, and Henry. Maybe you re not thinking all that straight, and

You got any other suspects lurking up your sleeve? Drummond s the only game in town. I got out, clunked the door shut, pointed at the house.

The cane crunched on the gravel as I hobbled up the driveway, pulling on my black leather gloves. A double garage sat off to one side, no sign of any cars. Better safe than sorry: I rang the doorbell and a high-pitched trrrrrrrrring sounded inside.

No answer.

Tried again.

Still nothing.

I looked down at my right foot, wrapped in bandages and stuffed into one of Alice s uncle s trainers no chance I was kicking the door in. Besides, this was a neighbourhood watch area. Some nosy old bat in twinset-and-pearls might hear and call the police.

Have to try around the back.

Alice scrunched up behind me. Maybe we should come back later?

A path led along the side of the building, to a cast-iron gate with an elaborate catch and no padlock. Looked as if Drummond needed someone to pop along and give him a talk about home security.

I slipped through into the back garden, then closed the gate behind Alice.

Big, lots of flowerbeds, bushes, trees, a hammock, huge greenhouse. Shadows already starting to lengthen across a neatly trimmed lawn.

The back door was part-glazed, with some sort of utility room on the other side. I stood and stared up at the building: no sign of a burglar alarm. Nothing around the front either. Drummond really did need that talk.

I grabbed a flowerpot and smashed one of the door s glass panes. Reached in and unlocked the door.

Alice shifted from foot to foot on the threshold. This is now officially breaking and entering, right?

Told you to stay in the car anyway.

Inside it smelled of fresh washing and oranges. The utility room opened on a large kitchen.

She crept in behind me, voice lowered to a whisper. What are we looking for?

Through the kitchen into a hallway with the usual assortment of jackets and keys, some shoes, a pair of long leather riding boots, a pile of mail lying on the mat. A flight of stairs heading up.

Alice tried a door it swung open on a living room with a couple of stripy sofas and a lot of wood panelling. Is he married? Because if he s married he s not likely to keep Katie here, is he, what if his wife found out, it d

Why aren t you wearing gloves?

Her eyes went wide, then she grimaced. Sorry. She wriggled her hand into the sleeve of her long-sleeved top and wiped the door handle. I ve never done this before.

Really?

We tried all the other doors on the ground floor: garage, dining room, reception room, one bathroom, one toilet. Stairs led up to the upper floor.

Bollocks.

Had to take them one at a time, one hand leaning on the walking stick, the other on the handrail. One of the doors up there was ajar. I raised the stick, placed the rubber-tipped end against the door, and pushed.

It opened on a study lined with bookshelves and framed photographs. A desk sat opposite the door, a laptop and flat-screen monitor on top, an office chair, computer tower unit and a half-height filing cabinet underneath.

Alice slipped through into the room. Maybe we can find out if he s got another house, or a lock-up or something? She tucked her hands into her sleeves again and pulled at one of the filing drawers. Locked. Oh

Try the computers. I went back onto the landing and checked the other rooms. No sign of Katie. According to my watch, it had just gone three: two hours left.

Back in the study, Alice was perched on the edge of Drummond s executive leather chair, mobile phone clamped to her ear. The flat-screen monitor in front of her displayed the Windows log-in screen. Uh-huh No I tried that OK, hold on She dragged around her satchel, pulled out her laptop and stuck it on the desk. Pressed the power button. Yes, it s booting up now.

No joy?

She jerked around, one hand on her chest. Don t sneak up on me like that! You know I m nervous enough as it A frown. She shifted her grip on the phone.

No, not you, Sabir, it s my aunt. Right, my machine s ready. Alice poked at the keyboard.

I took a tour of the bookshelves. A large SLR digital camera sat between a set of P.D. James novels and a copy of Sexual Homicide: Patterns and Motives. I took the camera down and played with the switches until the thing beeped and the screen on the back lit up.

Uh-huh That s it downloaded. Connecting it with the USB cable OK, here we go. She drummed her fingers on the desk. It s running.

Looked as if Drummond had a thing for photographing people walking their dogs. I flicked through them. Kings Park, Montgomery Park, Camburn Woods.

We re in! Sabir you re a genius Alice grinned. The flat-screen monitor changed to an almost empty desktop with icons along the bottom. No, I don t know how Aunty Jan managed to forget her log-in details Yes, I ll make sure she writes them down this time, thanks, Sabir.

Alice hung up and went to work with the computer mouse, clicking on things filling the screen with folders and documents.

I kept going through the photos. More dog walkers: Moncuir Woods, the Bellows.

What if Drummond wasn t the Birthday Boy? What if he was just like Steven Wallace?

Two hours left; it had to be him. Because if it wasn t, Katie was dead.

Alice cleared her throat. Ash?

A woman walking a Dalmatian through the rain, her yellow umbrella glowing like a slice of the sun. Next photo

Ash?

The camera trembled in my hands as I stared at the little screen.

Jesus.

Ash, you have to see this.

A little girl couldn t have been more than three or four naked, lying on top of a double bed, crying. A man wearing nothing but a Homer Simpson mask stood next to the bed, playing with himself. The next picture was worse.

Ash, Assistant Chief Constable Drummond s computer is full of child pornography. There has to be thousands of images here, videos too.

I switched the camera off. Put it back on the shelf. Pulled out my phone and dialled the station.

Ash? What are we

I held up a hand. Shh

Assistant Chief Constable Drummond s office, how can I help you?

Nicola, it s Ash. Ash Henderson. Is he in?

Her voice cooled. Officer Henderson, I m sorry about your daughter, but I don t think it s really

I want to apologize for my behaviour yesterday. I It s been difficult for us. I wanted to say sorry.

A pause. One moment, I ll see if he s free.

Bland, innocuous hold music, then, I ve cut you a lot of slack, Detective Constable, given your situation, but this is unacceptable. Steven Wallace claims you broke into his home last night and subjected him to

I know.

So you re not denying it? Have you any idea how much trouble

No. I mean I know about you.

A pause.

He put a little metal in his voice. And exactly what do you know?

Everything.

More silence.

I have no idea what you re talking about.

No? Is that a friend of yours in the Homer Simpson mask, or did you put the camera on a timer?

Alice raised her eyebrows and mouthed, Homer Simpson? at me.

I waved a hand at her.

ACC Drummond cleared his throat. I see And what do you want?

Guess.

Muffled scrunching noises came from the other end of the phone

Drummond putting his hand over the mouthpiece. Nicola, clear my schedule for the afternoon. I have to go out. Then he was back. Neutral territory: Moncuir Woods, the parking area by the sculpture trail. Half four. He didn t wait for confirmation, just hung up.

ACC Drummond s blue beamer turned onto the gravel driveway and crunched to a halt in front of the garage. He climbed out and scurried over to the front door.

I stepped back from the bedroom window.

The sounds of keys and locks echoed up from below, then the front door slammed shut.

OK. Alice took a deep breath, keeping her voice low. What s the plan, I mean we do have a plan don t we, he s going to

We ve got a plan I reached into my pocket and pulled out the gun.

Footsteps on the stairs: Drummond taking them two at a time.

She stared. Ash, is that Well, of course it is. Alice shrank back against the wardrobe. Is that what happened to your foot, you accidentally shot yourself with your own

I did not shoot myself. I blinked. It s complicated. And it wasn t this gun. I tucked it into my belt, at the side on the left, where my borrowed jacket would cover it. And it wasn t an accident.

You did it on purpose?

My gloves squeaked on the door handle. Are you coming or not?

Through in the study, ACC Drummond was on his knees in front of the desk, hauling CDs out of a black zip-up case and dumping them into a carrier-bag while the computers powered up.

I knocked on the doorframe. Problem?

He jumped, spun around, eyes and mouth wide. His lips twitched, then he scrambled to his feet. You have no right coming in here! This is private property. He cleared his throat.

I m I m placing you under arrest.

Where is she?

I don t know what you re talking about. He squinted over my shoulder. Dr McDonald? I I want you to phone the police: Constable Henderson has become a danger to himself and others.

The walking stick was a good sturdy model. I jerked it up into the air, caught it by the bottom and swung it like a crowbar, smashing the head into one of Drummond s pictures. The glass shattered the ACC and some bloke off the television crashed into the carpet. WHERE IS SHE?

He flinched. Opened and closed his mouth a couple of times. Then put on his sergeant major s voice: Officer Henderson, I insist

Another picture exploded off the wall.

Where is she, Drummond?

Alice squeezed past me into the room. You should really tell him, Assistant Chief Constable, he s been under a lot of stress recently, and I don t think Ash is too worried about the consequences of battering your brains out right now. She settled into the office chair. Where s Katie?

I don t know anything about

The cane s head battered into his cheek, hard enough to make my arm shake. He staggered against a shelf, sending law books thumping to the ground. Stood there with a hand pressed against his face, groaning.

Where is she?

I don t

I went for the side of his knee this time and he yelled, then doubled over clutching at the joint. So I cracked the lying fuck on the back of the head too. Blood and hair stuck to the handle.

Drummond screamed and curled into a ball, arms wrapped around his head. I don t know, I don t know!

Alice shoogled the office chair closer to the desk. It s my professional opinion that Officer Henderson is suffering from post-traumatic stress disorder as a result of what s happened, he s not responsible for his actions, it d certainly count as temporary insanity if he beats you to death.

I don t know where your daughter is!

I held the gun in front of his face, hauled the slide back and racked a round into the chamber. Then stuck the gun against his forehead. Give me one reason, you sick little shite.

You re crazy, you ve lost your bloody mind!

Alice nodded. That s what I ve been trying to tell you. I think it was all your child pornography that finally pushed him over the edge.

It It s evidence in a case, I was only holding it until

The gun made a dull thunk when I slammed it into his head.

Aaaagh Blood seeped out of the gash in his scalp.

You made everyone at the station do PNC searches.

It s not my fault! He covered his head with his arms again, scarlet soaking into the sleeves of his white shirt. He found out about everything What was I supposed to do, let him tell the world? It d ruin my family my wife, my children, my friends

Who found out? I forced Drummond s head back. Jammed the gun barrel into his cheek. WHO FOUND OUT? WHO DID YOU TELL?

It wasn t

I LL BLOW YOUR HEAD OFF, YOU PIECE OF SHITE!

The words came out high-pitched and fast: A journalist, I give them to a journalist! Every year, three weeks before each girl s birthday, I have to give him the family s address.

A journalist

I let go and limped away. Stared out of the study window at the shining street. The clouds ate the sun, and everything went grey and gloomy again. All this, just so some tabloid scumbag could get at the story. So they could doorstep Lauren Burges s mother and ask her what it felt like to know her only child s bones had been dug up in a dilapidated park. Maybe stick a

camera in her face: GRIEVING MOTHER CRIES FOR POOR LAUREN EXCLUSIVE!

I leaned on the windowsill. Who was it?

I didn t have any choice, he was investigating the death of a colleague in Inverness. The ACC coughed. He found out about our little group.

Drummond, I swear to God I will put a bullet in you.

Alice nodded. Temporary insanity.

He s Deep breath. He s called Frank McKenzie; he s a freelance journalist.

No he isn t, he s a fucking photographer on the Castle News and Post I frowned down at the front garden.

Outside Megan Taylor s house when Jennifer and her cameraman were waiting to ambush me Shifty Dave taking the piss: If it s no Wee Hairy Frank McKenzie. Two counts drink driving, and six months for phone hacking. Surprised any paper ll touch you since you got kicked off the News of the World. Relegated to camera boy now, are we?

Got kicked off a London-based paper. London: the only place other than Oldcastle where the Birthday Boy had taken more than one victim. Frank McKenzie: always there whenever we turned around. Every time there was a press conference, or an appeal from the parents, there he was with his camera, recording it all. Preserving it. Soaking up the grief.

I thrust the gun into Alice s hands and lurched for the door. If the bastard moves, shoot him.

Down the stairs my right heel thunking into every step then out the front door, hirpling along, the cane thumping against the wet tarmac.

Shadows lengthened across the street, everything painted copper and gold. I unlocked the Renault and hauled the driver s door open. It was in here somewhere Not in the door-pocket. I knelt on the damp pavement and peered under the seat.

There it was lying next to two empty water bottles, some scrunched-up receipts, an empty crisp packet, and the discarded syringe.

I reached in and plucked the SD card from the debris, blew the dust off it, and hobbled back to the house.

Alice slipped the SD card into the slot on Drummond s laptop. What are we looking for?

You re the psychologist, figure it out.

She fiddled with the mouse for a bit, and a window appeared, full of thumbnail images. Alice scrolled through them: half a dozen pics of a grinning ginger kid holding an oversized cardboard cheque; another half-dozen of a car on Dundas Road with the front end caved in and a smear of what might have been blood on the dashboard; a series of random faces grinning at the camera; thirty or forty shots of the press conference in Dundee DCS Dickie sitting up on the platform with Helen McMillan s mum; a few arty shots of the Oldcastle skyline; and that was it.

I breathed out. Nothing there.

Alice opened up a web browser and started clicking away at things.

What are Drummond cleared his throat.

I have money.

I turned on him. You want to buy your way out of it? Flash a few grand and we ll forget all about your collection of kiddy porn? Seriously?

I can You want to be a DI again? I can make that happen. DCI even.

Ash?

I m going to throw your arse to the wolves, Drummond.

Come on, be reasonable.

Ash!

I grabbed the gun and ground it into his forehead. You want reasonable?

Alice tugged at my sleeve. Ash, you need to look at this.

She pointed at the laptop screen. A girl I didn t recognize was tied to a chair in a filthy basement room, her bare skin covered in bruises, head shaved, three gouges across her chest leaking scarlet onto her pale skin. The next image was the same again, only worse. In the one after that, her throat hung open and dark.

Alice double-clicked on the first image, filling the screen with it. I downloaded a program to find deleted files on the card

Little bastard. Little fucking bastard. I turned, stared down at Drummond, snivelling away on the study floor. You piece of shite.

I I didn t

Ash, I know her: she s one of the missing girls the Party Crashers are looking for.

You gave him their addresses!

It McKenzie was Blackmail. I didn t have any choice! I didn t know!

YOU HELPED THE FUCKING BIRTHDAY BOY! I grabbed Drummond by the hair again, banged his head against the desk. Open your mouth. He stared up at me, eyes wide and full of tears. OPEN YOUR MOUTH!

He did. I jammed the gun barrel inside.

Gllllk Hands up, palms facing out, whole body trembling.

We could ve caught him. We could ve caught the bastard years ago! HE S GOT MY DAUGHTER!