Imposition (DI Gardener 5)

“I can try.”

The guitar was brought into the incident room, and after judging the weight and the size, Fitz asked Patrick Edwards to stand near the wall while he raised the instrument and swung it slowly, stopping short of the target. In order to satisfy himself, he repeated the exercise three or four times.

“It’s very possible, Stewart. Do I detect you know who your killer is?”

“Let’s just say we’re getting there. Thank you, Fitz, you’ve been a great help.”

Gardener continued as Fitz left. “There we have another nail in his coffin, gentlemen. Dave, I’d like you to get on to the station in Brough tomorrow morning. See if you can find anyone who was directly involved in the case, and see if they remember a red guitar. If not, ask someone to check the notes carefully to see if there’s a mention.”

“Will do, boss.”

“You think he might have taken this thing on holiday with him?” Reilly asked.

“It looks that way, Sean.”

“Terry Jones reckoned it was a present from his wife,” said Patrick Edwards.

“Maybe it was,” replied Gardener. “But he never said which one.” Gardener thought for a moment. “I’d like to know why he does it. Whatever the reason, I want him caught. It looks like he’s been doing this for years and he’s obviously been getting away with it. The book stops with us. He’s not getting away with it again, not on my watch.”

A collective show of support went around the room.

Gardener turned to Emma Longstaff. “Anything from the dating sites, Emma?”

She sighed, her expression glum. “In view of what we’ve heard tonight, I haven’t been using my time wisely.”

“Why?”

“I’ve found a number of Robbie Carters but none of them look anything like him. I realise now that they wouldn’t. He’ll be using a fake photograph, maybe even a false name. There has to be something he’s doing, or putting on the site that has a common thread. Trouble is, I’m not sure what it is. Bearing that in mind, I’m going to cross reference a few different sites. I’m going to google something called The Way Back Machine.”

“What the hell’s that?” Reilly asked.

“It’s a site that scans and records the content of all indexed webpages online,” said Longstaff. “It can be useful if you know one of the last IDs and roughly when it was used. It’s almost impossible these days for someone not to leave a digital footprint.”

She explained about usernames and nicknames being traceable, and the likelihood of people using them time and again for all social media sites. “It’s a big job, sir.”

“I appreciate that, Emma, and it’s possible that we may have to pull an all-nighter. But you can use Patrick and one or two of the HOLMES team if they haven’t already got their hands full. We’re very close to this man. We cannot let him slip the net.”

“I take it we’re not still trying to pin it on Manny Walters?” Cragg asked.

Gardener sighed. “I’m not convinced he’s a murderer.”

“But he’s involved in it somehow,” offered Reilly, strolling back from the tea urn with a cup in one hand and a sausage roll in the other.

“Thing is,” said Gardener, taking a swig of water from a fresh bottle, “he would not admit to the burglary, or having been anywhere near Robbie Carter’s house.”

“And you don’t believe him?” said Colin Sharp.

“We didn’t believe him before we trapped him,” said Reilly.

“How did you trap him, sir?” asked Gates.

“Told him his prints were all over the guitar.”

“He reckoned they couldn’t be because he was wearing gloves.”

Dave Rawson dropped his coffee and doubled over with laughter. “Oldest trick in the book.”

“That’s typical of him,” said Cragg. “Hasn’t got the sense he were born with.”