Imperfection (DI Gardener 2)

“Yes he does,” said Gardener.

Chapter Forty-seven

Laura had left the house early in the morning, spending the best part of the day in the centre of Leeds shopping for clothes. She had returned to Yeadon about an hour later, depositing her carrier bags before popping back out again to pick up a parcel at the Royal Mail sorting office. Her intention had then been to drive back home, but the car had other ideas.

All morning her engine management light had been on, indicating a problem that the garage had been unable to find two days previously when it had been booked in for that reason. The excuse the garage had given was that their computers had been attacked with a virus which had somehow been passed on to the diagnostic machine they were using. She now wondered if it had transferred the virus to her car. She supposed it was possible, but would readily admit she knew nothing about computers or cars, so if you mixed the two together she was doubly lost. What she did know was that the car was not running properly.

Overhead, the rich blue skies were cloudless, creating yet another warm day for the time of year. Laura had her driver’s door window open, and was listening to the radio. As she drove down Rawdon Road heading towards Horsforth, the car misfired. “Oh, Christ, don’t do this to me.”

Suddenly, the dashboard lit up, and the vehicle rolled to a halt at the side of the road. Despite having lost her power steering, she managed to guide it into a drive fronted by a pair of magnificent wrought iron gates. She tried in vain to start the engine, but it simply turned over without firing.

Laura jumped out of the car and reached back in for her handbag. She took out her mobile phone and glanced around in order to ascertain where she was. Phoning the breakdown service would be something akin to passing an X-Factor audition, and then she would probably have to wait about four hours before the tow truck arrived, which they would promise within the hour.

Laura took a peek inside the grounds of the house beyond the gates. “Someone’s tight on security,” she said to herself. After phoning the breakdown service, she also left Sean a voicemail message.

Laura pressed the intercom button and waited for an answer, which came quite quickly. “Hello?”

“I’m sorry to bother you, but I’ve broken down outside your gates. I thought it only polite to let you know.”

“How unfortunate. Are you all right?” came the reply.

Laura recognised the voice, but she couldn’t place it.

“Yes, I’m fine. I’ve phoned the breakdown service and they’ve promised to be here within the hour. Is that a problem?”

“Not at all. But we can’t have you waiting out there by yourself in this day and age, you never know who’s around. I’m going to open the gates to allow you a little more room for the breakdown service. And if you’d like to take a walk down, I’ll make you a nice cup of tea, er... I’m sorry... you never told me your name.”

“I don’t want to put you to any trouble,” Laura answered.

She heard him laugh before he said, “Goodness me, that is rather an unusual name. It’s no trouble.” With that said, the gates silently opened.

She spoke back into the intercom. “Thank you. My name’s Laura, Laura Reilly. I’ll see you in a couple of minutes, Mister...?”

The intercom clicked off, but the man on the other end never gave his name.

The walk to the mansion wasn’t as long as she’d imagined. When she arrived, the front door was open, which led her into a panelled hallway framed by film posters. She then turned and saw her host.

Chapter Forty-eight

Briggs stared at the file on his desk. It included everything Gardener could muster, along with the folder Colin Sharp had prepared, and details of the information everyone else had supplied. It had taken Briggs an hour to sort through it all, with the help of Gardener and Reilly who were now sitting opposite. “Well done, Stewart, Sean. There’s a lot of information here.”

“Enough to gain a warrant for his arrest?” asked Gardener.

“I don’t see why not,” replied Briggs, sitting back and folding his arms across his chest.

“Can I ask you a question, Stewart? And I’d like your opinion on this one as well, Sean,” said Briggs.

“Go on.”

“From everything we’ve seen, you’re absolutely sure it’s Corndell?”

The question knocked Gardener off balance a little. “As sure as I can be, why?”

“What about Martin Brown?”

“The thought did cross my mind, particularly when he came out with the information that no one else knew.”

“You’re barking up the wrong tree, sir,” said Reilly. “If Martin Brown was our killer, then why didn’t he abduct Malcolm at the cinema? There was nothing to stop him.”