Imposture (DI Gardener 6)

Gardener explained who he was, what he’d been caught up in, and requested immediate backup from anywhere close at hand – and very possibly his own team, as he knew instinctively where the incident was heading.

Putting the phone in his pocket he shouted at the bin men, flashing his warrant card. “I need you lot to come with me, now.”

“Can’t do that, guv, we’re on council business.” The man was at least twenty-stone, with a fat lumpy face that appeared to have been the sick joke of a bad pottery session. His eyes were bulbous and he had more hair sprouting from his nose than his head. But the biggest mistake he was making was pushing his luck.

Gardener’s temper hit new heights, which meant he stared solely at the man with the big mouth and spoke very slowly.

“You see this badge? It means I can override any council orders you have. When I say I want you lot to come with me now – that is exactly what I mean. No argument.”

He had all of their attention. “Follow me. I need you to create a cordon.”

“What do you mean?”

“I need you to create a boundary. Don’t let anyone inside. Now come on!”

Gardener ran back to the injured man who was still face down on the ground, moaning and writhing.

He directed the bin men to form a square, standing in opposing corners. That was a task in itself because each and every one of them kept glancing at the man on the floor and then at Gardener, asking stupid questions.

He stared around at the shoppers, blowing his whistle again.

“Can I have your attention, please? Do not, I repeat, do not move from where you are now.”

“Excuse me, guv,” said lump head.

Gardener noticed he was holding a roll of red and white tape – from where he had no idea. “Thought you might need this. Wrap it round us all and create a proper boundary, like.”

Gardener smiled; perhaps the man wasn’t so bad after all. He quickly rolled the tape around the man’s body before setting off for the next. Once he’d finished he blew the whistle again, addressing a crowd he would have preferred not to have been there.

“Please stay where you are and do not try to walk through the tape. I have called for an ambulance, and more police officers to deal with what’s happening. We’ll need to take a statement from every one of you.”

He dropped to his knees and told the man to hang on – which was probably pointless – repeating that he had called for an ambulance. He then asked once again if he could do anything to help.

With a very serious effort the man raised his head. His face was now so red Gardener thought it had been set on fire. His milky white eyes signified that he might even have gone blind in the short time he’d been on the floor.

What in God’s name had happened?

In the distance, Gardener heard the siren of the ambulance. He wondered if they might have a problem reaching him, unsure if the bin wagon was blocking their path.

He was suddenly shoved and a scream in his right ear distracted his attention. The man on the floor had reared upwards, gripping Gardener’s shoulders.

He would never forget the expression of sheer terror carved into the injured man’s features; wide eyes with deep crow’s feet underneath them. His mouth was fully open but Gardener could see very little because his tongue had ballooned to twice its size, probably making breathing impossible.

Gardener’s last thought was confirmed as he heard the death rattle somewhere at the back of his throat.

The man breathed his last and collapsed to the ground as the medics finally reached him.

Chapter Twenty-three

Welcome to hell, thought Gardener.

“Is he dead?” shouted lump head.

Gardener nodded to confirm.

He heard a retching sound behind him as one of the other bin men threw up. That was all he needed.

Gardener phoned the station again, explained what had happened and was quietly relieved when the desk sergeant told him his team had been despatched, as well as a number of operational support officers. They would now have to add the Home Office pathologist, Dr George Fitzgerald, to the list of attending officers. Against his better judgement he held back on Special Ops until Fitz had seen the victim.