Part 24 (1/2)

Rachel nodded. 'Yes. I do. I'm sure he's got nothing to do with this. It's just not his style. Anyway, what's his motive?'

'That's the sixty thousand dollar question, isn't it ... the motive. From the picture I'm building up of Charles Marrick, I can see why he'd be a potential victim. But the others ...'

'I know.' Rachel gave him an apologetic shrug. She was as puzzled as he was.

'Any progress with Celia Dawn's alibi?'

'I haven't been able to prove she wasn't where she said she was if that's what you mean. Think it's worth getting a search warrant? After all she did give him his last meal.'

'I don't think it's top of the boss's list of priorities.' Wesley sighed. He suddenly felt tired. 'Do you think Marrick beat her up?'

'She says not and, as far as I can see, she has no links with the other victims. But I'll keep digging,' she concluded wearily.

'What about Petronella Blackwell?'

'Her supermarket alibi for the time of Simon Tench's murder stands up. She used her credit card.'

'Doesn't mean she didn't make a detour on the way home.'

'Her alibi for Grisham's murder's been checked out too. She was off work for a couple of days at the time ... claims she was doing Open University work.'

'But she could have nipped up to Chester.'

'No reason to think that.'

'Suppose not,' said Wesley wearily, aware that he was clutching at any available straw.

At that moment Gerry Heffernan appeared at his office door. 'Who's going to get me the postmortem report on the last headmaster of Belsinger the one who committed suicide? Stanley Hadderson his name was,' he called out as a challenge to the minions at their desks. When Steve Carstairs signalled that he'd be the one to oblige, the boss returned to his lair.

Wesley followed him. He shut the door behind him and sat down.

'Anything new, Wes? Anyone been in to confess?' He sighed wistfully, imagining the scene.

''Fraid not, Gerry. Rachel's been to see Barty Carter.'

Heffernan looked up expectantly. 'And?'

'He didn't tell her much.' He hesitated, a grin spreading across his face. 'But she's got a bit of a spring in her step.'

Heffernan raised his eyebrows. 'I thought he was supposed to be a washed-out failure with a drink problem. Hardly our Rach's type.'

'Maybe she feels sorry for him,' Wesley said, hardly believing it himself. The Rachel he knew wasn't a sucker for lame ducks.

'That'll be a first,' Heffernan mumbled before picking up a handwritten list that was lying on his desk. 'I've been on to Colin. Asked him to do Mortimer Dean's PM as soon as possible. I asked for the toxicology report to be top priority.'

'You think Dean was poisoned?'

'Don't you?'

'Hemlock? The Socrates touch. He was a teacher who was ordered to drink it for supposedly corrupting the youth of Athens.'

'And Mortimer Dean corrupted the youth of Belsinger School? Come on, Wes, there was no hint of anything like that, was there? If anyone was a corrupting influence at Belsinger, it's my bet it was Charles Marrick. It really beats me why he wasn't expelled as soon as he started making trouble.'

'If Hedge is telling the truth, Marrick was blackmailing the headmaster, Stanley Hadderson, about their relations.h.i.+p. This was a few years ago now and having openly gay members of staff in a boys' boarding school would hardly have gone down well with the parents, however enlightened and liberal they liked to appear at their London dinner parties.

Heffernan sighed. 'You're probably right, Wes. That little b.a.s.t.a.r.d Marrick had Hadderson by the short and curlies. By 'eck, Wes, he must have been a nasty piece of work.'

'But he always kept one step ahead of the law.'

'He cheated Darren Collins. That was fraud. We could have had him for that.'

'And what's the betting he'd blame whoever supplied him with the dodgy wine. He'd make sure he came out of that one squeaky clean. That's what I hate about people like that.'

'Give us a good, honest villain any day, eh, Wes.'

Wesley smiled. 'And what about the other victims. There's nothing to suggest that they were anything other than blameless, upright citizens. And, according to their school records, they were model pupils.'

Heffernan looked up. 'Charlie Marrick was teflon coated because of what he had on Hadderson that might have applied to his inner circle of mates as well.'

'But there's nothing to indicate that they were his mates, is there? Quite the reverse in fact.'

'Opposites attract, Wes. You know that as well as I do. How many kids from good homes become involved with undesirable friends? Doctors' and vicars' kids who go to the bad on booze and drugs. And policemen's kids of course: there was this DI in Neston his son started hanging around with ...'

'Okay, Gerry, I get the picture.' He found the thought an uncomfortable one. He was only too aware that he wasn't giving his own children enough paternal attention. If they went wrong, he'd only have himself to blame. 'But we've not heard any hint that Tench and Grisham were bad uns, have we?'

Heffernan sighed. 'Have you asked Tom in Forensic if he's traced that e-mail address? Frankie, whoever he or she is.'

'I thought you were doing it.'

Heffernan snorted. 'You know I never have anything to do with computers if I can help it. That Tom terrifies the life out of me.'

Wesley had to smile. Forensic's foremost computer expert was an amiable una.s.suming young man. But his virtuoso skill with the keyboard left Gerry Heffernan in awe, as if he was in the presence of great genius.

'Have you seen the evening paper yet?'

Wesley shook his head.

'Our mole's been at it again.' He reached over and picked a newspaper up off the floor by his desk It was the Tradmouth Echo. That day's edition. 'Here, look at the headline.'

He pa.s.sed the paper to Wesley who scanned the front page, frowning. 'Police connect Morbay bookshop death to Spider enquiry.'

'Have you talked to Ray Davenport?'

'He's avoiding me, Wes. Every time I call him he's out or his secretary says he is. I think we need to go round there. Have a word.'

Wesley looked at his watch. It was four thirty already and, with the pressure of work, the leaking of inside information to the press was hardly on their list of priorities. Not when the Spider might be out there, waiting for his next victim.

'Can it wait till tomorrow, Gerry? Or we could ask the press officer to have a discreet word.'

Heffernan slumped in his seat. 'Suppose so. But the information must have come from someone here and I want to know who it is.'