Part 18 (1/2)

The DCI didn't argue. But he looked as if he'd cheerfully give the leaker of the information a public flogging with his own hands.

'They're expecting us at Chester police headquarters this afternoon, Wes. You ready?'

Wesley nodded, thinking of his workload. Neil had telephoned last night just as he'd arrived home from work. He'd had another letter and he'd read it out to Wesley who'd copied the words down carefully. The content alarmed him, just as it had alarmed Neil. There was a threat 'I could even make you bleed' which particularly disturbed him, as did the obsession with blood and Satan. Whoever sent these letters whoever was playing the blood game was seriously weird ... maybe even dangerous. Wesley said he'd send an officer round to the dig to pick the letter up. And he warned Neil to take care to watch his back and be careful who he opened his door to.

'Maybe you should ask him to stop with you,' Heffernan suggested when he brought him up to date with the latest development.

Wesley considered the suggestion. 'I'll ask Pam. Her mother's coming to stay with her tonight while we're in Chester.' He grimaced. 'If she turns up.'

'As long as she's gone when you get back, eh.' For the first time that morning, his mouth turned upwards in a wicked grin. He knew Wesley's mother-in-law, Della, of old. He looked at his watch. 'If we set off about ten, we should make it to Chester by the middle of the afternoon, traffic jams permitting. I'm looking forward to seeing our Howard again.'

'Howard?'

'My cousin. The one who works at Chester HQ.'

From the expression on his face, Wesley guessed that he was regarding the family reunion with eager antic.i.p.ation. It struck him for the first time that he didn't know that much about the DCI's family up in the north-west. Perhaps he'd discover more when they were up there.

'I hear that our Rach was threatened with a shotgun yesterday.'

Wesley looked up, surprised at the change of subject and that the boss could be speaking so casually about such a serious matter. 'A shotgun. What ... ?'

'She and Steve went to see this Barty Carter. The one who had a row with Simon Tench. He greeted them by pointing a shotgun at them. And it was loaded.'

'Did Rachel tell you this?'

'No. It was Steve. He wants to call the Armed Response Unit in and organise a raid.'

'That figures,' said Wesley. Steve was known to favour the more dramatic aspect of policing.

'Apparently our Rach was a bit of a heroine. Talked Carter round and rescued an unspecified number of pigs from a squalid existence into the bargain.' He grinned. 'I've spoken to her and she doesn't think Carter's our man, by the way. She reckons he's more sad than bad. However, I've got someone having a look at his firearms licence. Can't have him going and pointing a dangerous weapon at all and sundry, can we?'

Wesley nodded. He trusted Rachel's judgement. But they'd keep a discreet eye on Barty Carter. Just in case.

'Rach had a funny phone call yesterday.'

'What kind of funny?' Wesley wished his boss would be more specific.

'Some woman telling her to talk to Celia Dawn that's one of the women Annette Marrick was with when her husband ...'

'And has she seen her?'

'Not yet. She's going to try her today.'

The main thing that had been on Wesley's mind since he'd left work the previous evening hadn't been mentioned yet. And, in his opinion, it was high time it was brought up. 'Anything else come in on that DNA match? The skeleton in the woods?'

'Not yet but I've asked for more information. Luton are sending us the file apparently.' He didn't look as if he quite believed it. 'Of course they didn't have all this DNA testing in those days but recently they've been going over evidence in some cold cases putting samples they'd kept into computers or whatever it is they do. That's how they found a match with our skeleton.'

'Have they got a name for us?'

Heffernan shook his head.

'So the man in the woods was a rapist.'

'Of schoolgirls. He raped a schoolgirl. Aged thirteen.' Heffernan, the father of a daughter, looked quite upset about it. 'Still, it looks like the b.a.s.t.a.r.d got what he deserved.'

'We still don't know how he died. Could have been natural causes.'

'Could have been. Let's work on that a.s.sumption, shall we, Wes? Case closed.'

'Suits me. Especially when we've got ”the Spider” to deal with.' He grinned.

Heffernan muttered something unrepeatable under his breath.

'I'm sending Trish to have a word with the headmaster at St Peter's School today. See if he can shed any light on Simon Tench's background. I understand his parents are dead.'

'That's right. The mother died when he was in his teens and the father had a stroke a couple of years ago. Sad.'

'Very. I still think the fact that all the victims are the same age is significant. Perhaps they went to the same primary school. Or perhaps they all went to St Peter's and the other two were just away on the day of the photograph for some reason.'

'What about Charles Marrick's parents? Surely they've been contacted.'

'I've thought of that, Wes. It seems they divorced years ago. The mother married again and emigrated to Australia and the father died in a car accident.'

'Not a close family then.'

'Doesn't look that way. I've been told that the mother's coming back for the funeral.'

'She might be able to provide some more background for us. If she'll talk.' Wesley looked at his watch. 'I'll have a word with Trish then we'd better make a move. It's a long way to Chester.'

'It certainly is. But it looks like our killer made the journey.'

As Wesley left the office, he was suddenly struck by a fear that the Spider could be lying in wait, ready to claim more victims, if they didn't catch up with him fast.

Neil Watson reckoned he deserved a lunch break like everyone else. But what you deserve and what you get are sometimes two completely different things.

He'd been rather surprised when a uniformed police officer turned up and took the latest letter away on the request of DI Peterson. He'd also given a formal statement in the not-so-formal surroundings of the cow shed c.u.m site office. He said nothing to his colleagues about the purpose of the policeman's visit as far as everyone on the site was concerned, he'd reported some petty pilfering of equipment on another site he'd worked at. Somehow he didn't want to share the truth with all and sundry.

He hadn't been able to sleep the night before for thinking about the letters. They were starting to scare him. Someone was watching him. They knew his movements and where he lived.

He'd read about 'the Spider' in the Tradmouth Echo. No wonder Wesley had been elusive, he thought. There was a serial killer on the loose in the Tradmouth area a killer who paralysed his victims before letting them bleed to death. This modus operandi reminded him of the letter writer's obsession with blood and bleeding and the possibility of a link nagged in his mind. Last night Wesley had warned him to be careful and not to open his door to strangers and, for the first time in his life, Neil was really afraid.

He saw Lenny approaching and his heart began to beat a little faster. He straightened himself up, preparing for the encounter.

'Dr Watson. I've a theory about that pit the one Diane said contained traces of blood. You see the Aztecs used to ...'

'Yes, Lenny, I know what the Aztecs did. But we're a very long way from Mexico and there's doc.u.mentary evidence that this was the place the monks from Veland Abbey used for blood-letting. They thought it was good for their health. They would have had to dispose of the blood somehow and it's very probable that they used that pit.'

Lenny looked disappointed. 'The trouble is with the archaeological establishment is that they won't open their minds,' he said.

Neil gave him a businesslike smile. 'We just go on the available facts. How are you enjoying the dig?' It was a bold question but the only thing Neil could think of to say on the spur of the moment.