The Executioner

Ninety-One

The picture Reed had pointed out showed a pale-faced boy with full lips, cat-like menacing dark eyes and shoulder-length black hair. The name under the picture read Peter Elder.

Hunter wrote the name down in his black notebook. ‘What do you remember about him?’

‘I already told you. They were bullies and I stayed out of their way. There’s nothing else I can say.’

‘Anyone else you recognize?’ Garcia pressed. ‘The rest of their gang, maybe?’

‘No,’ Reed said curtly, closing the yearbook with a thump and pushing it back in Hunter’s direction.

‘How about any of these girls?’ Hunter showed Reed the photograph of Amanda Reilly’s girl group.

Reed looked at it attentively for almost a minute before shaking his head. ‘No, I never saw them in school.’ His eyes stayed on the picture.

‘They weren’t students at Compton High. I was wondering if you might’ve seen them hanging around outside school, maybe with Brett and Peter’s gang?’

‘We’re talking twentysomething years ago, detective. Unfortunately, I don’t have a photographic memory. And as I said, I did everything I could to stay out of their way.’ Reed checked his watch. ‘This has gone way over fifteen minutes, detective. I really have to get going.’

‘As a teacher, your mother suspended Brett seven times, didn’t she?’ Hunter pushed.

‘That’s right.’ The answer came with a hint of indignation. ‘My mother was a very good and proud teacher. She always did what she thought should be done in any given situation. She refused to be intimidated by anyone, never mind a pushy student.’

‘Did he threaten her after he was suspended?’

‘Brett and Peter didn’t threat. They acted.’ The muscle in his jaw flexed again.

‘What did he do?’

The question made Reed edgy. ‘Gentlemen, I really have to go. I have a class to teach.’ He sprang to his feet, and both detectives stood. Reed motioned his guests towards the door.

As Hunter walked past the large table with the jigsaw puzzle he paused, studied the pieces for a few seconds, reached for one and slotted it in place.

Reed glared at him.

‘Lucky guess,’ Hunter said, shrugging.

At the door Reed’s eyes narrowed and a look of recognition came over his face. ‘Wait a second. Now I remember where I’ve seen you two before. You were in the paper yesterday. The Tarot Cops, right? Something to do with enlisting the help of a young girl who claims to be psychic.’

‘You shouldn’t believe everything you read in the papers,’ Garcia shot back.

‘A priest was killed, isn’t that right?’ Reed continued. ‘Decapitated? The papers are calling the killer the Executioner. You said Brett became a Catholic priest. Was he the one who was killed?’ A flicker of satisfaction flashed in his eyes.

Hunter zipped up his jacket and nodded. ‘Yes, Brett Stewart Nichols was savagely murdered.’ He waited for a reaction from Reed but got none. ‘Thanks for your time and help, Mr. Reed.’

‘All the best with your investigation, detective.’ Reed closed the door calmly. A satisfied smile spread across his thin, ascetic face.

Outside, Hunter reached for his phone and called Hopkins again. ‘Ian, listen, there’s one more thing I need you to investigate…’