Imperfection (DI Gardener 2)

“Where have you been?”

“Only next door. I was in the potting shed when Harry popped round and said he’d just brewed up, so I went for a cup.”

“And you haven’t seen or heard from him?” asked Briggs.

“No. Is something wrong?”

“We’re not sure,” replied Briggs. They all sat at the kitchen table, and Briggs briefly told them that he’d removed Gardener from the case and that shortly afterwards they had taken a call from him with some important information, which led to another corpse.

“Maybe we should ring him,” suggested Reilly, fishing in his pocket for his mobile. “Shit, I’ve done it again, the bloody thing’s still in the car.”

“It’s okay, Sean, I’ll ring,” said Briggs.

“You ring. I’ll get my phone.”

As Reilly came back in, he saw Briggs and Malcolm rushing round the living room trying to locate the ring tone from Gardener’s mobile. They eventually found it down the side of a chair.

“Something’s wrong,” said Reilly. “Cold tea on a kitchen worktop and his phone stuffed down the side of a chair. He left here in a hurry.”

“So, where’s he gone, and why?” asked Briggs. “And why was it so important that he had to leave without calling us?”

“Christ! Would you look at that? My phone’s not even switched on, so it isn’t.” As soon as it was, Reilly had a voicemail message. He listened intently.

“Is it your boss?” Briggs asked.

“No. Laura. Her car’s broken down. But she hasn’t said where, just that she’s phoned the recovery people.”

“Is she okay?” asked Malcolm.

“I’ll give her a ring at home, she should be there by now.” Briggs’ concerned expression did little to abate the feeling in Reilly’s mind. The Irishman disconnected after ten rings.

“No answer?” asked Briggs.

“No.”

He called her mobile. On the third ring, a male voice answered. “Erik speaking.”

“Erik!” repeated Reilly. “Who the feck is Erik?”

“Oh, Mr Reilly... I’m sure you know the answer to that by now.”

The connection died. Reilly tried again but the phone had been switched off.

“Erik?” Briggs asked.

“Corndell!” Reilly threw the phone on the chair. It landed next to Gardener’s. “That bastard has Laura somewhere.”

“Why Erik?” asked Briggs. “Who does he think he is now?”

“I suspect he thinks he’s the Phantom,” said Malcolm. “From the film.”

“Oh Jesus!” replied Briggs.

“Who he is or who he thinks he is, doesn’t matter,” said Reilly. “Where he is, that’s what I want to know. When I find out, I’m going to kill him.”

Reilly’s temper scaled new heights, his fists clenching and unclenching. As far as he was concerned, Corndell had signed his own death warrant.

“Calm down, Sean,” said Briggs. “Losing your temper won’t help Laura.”