Puppet: A DI Charlotte Savage Novel Read online

  ‘Shit,’ Riley said. ‘She thought you were connected to God’s Haven and Marcus Clent.’

  ‘Yes, sir.’ Hester closed her eyes and smiled. ‘That’s what I was trying to tell you.’

  Chapter 29

  Savage heard the sirens around twenty minutes later, but it took the crew another ten to find their way to the byre. Francis was dead long before then.

  She waited at the doorway, watching the paramedics and a horde of police officers move through the gap in the rocks.

  ‘Alright, love,’ the first paramedic said as he approached. ‘Where’s the casualty, then?’

  Savage shook her head, her gaze meeting that of John Layton, who was hot on their heels, a substantial rucksack on his back. He placed a hand on the man’s shoulder.

  ‘We’re too late.’ Layton looked at Savage as she pointed at the ladder to the mezzanine floor. ‘Why don’t you come up with me and we can certify death?’

  Layton climbed the ladder and the man followed. Two minutes later, the paramedic was climbing down, his feet unsteady, his face white.

  ‘Fuck,’ he said, as his colleague helped him away. ‘Bloody fucking fuck.’

  Savage went up to the hayloft and found Layton unpacking his rucksack. He extracted a battery bank and a series of lights and began setting them up. He adjusted the lights so they bathed Francis in a soft white luminance.

  ‘Is this supposed to be religious?’ Layton pointed at the slumped figure. ‘A reference to the crucifixion?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ Savage said. ‘But there’s another puppet in the same spot where Galloway found his. Francis mentioned the Puppet by name. Said it wasn’t him.’

  ‘So who is it?’

  ‘Marcus Clent. I’m sure of it. If Francis had stayed conscious a little longer, he’d have told me.’

  ‘DI Riley won’t like that and I don’t blame him.’

  ‘If not Clent, then who?’

  Layton shrugged. ‘Not my job to speculate, Charlotte. Especially not in this case.’

  ‘Sure.’ Savage winced as she took in the pathetic figure of Francis hanging slumped on the wall. ‘Anything interesting?’

  ‘Yes.’ Layton moved closer, his gloved hands reaching for Francis’s right wrist. ‘You’d struggle to hold him while you drove the nails in. Unless, of course, he was unconscious.’ Layton indicated the ladder. ‘Even then, you’d have to have some strength to carry Francis up here, especially if it was from down where we parked the cars.’

  ‘Or over the hill from God’s Haven?’

  ‘That’s a fair old hike.’ Layton turned his attention back to the wrist. ‘And these are bloody big nails, not the kind of thing you get in your average DIY shop. More like from a fencing store or a farm supply place. The corollary is it also took a large hammer to drive it through the bone and into the wood.’

  ‘And Francis was alive when it happened?’

  ‘The amount of blood suggests so. Without doing Doctor Nesbit’s job for him, Francis’s heart probably gave out after he’d been nailed up. He awoke, felt the pain, the loss of blood lowered his blood pressure, and decreased blood supply led to a deficit of oxygen to the heart muscles resulting in a heart attack.’ Layton stared at the nails holding the wrists and ankles. ‘There was the shock effect also. When he regained consciousness, his appalling situation was apparent. Despite your best efforts, it was all too much.’

  ‘I’m afraid I didn’t do anything, but then I didn’t see exactly what I could do.’

  ‘To be honest, I doubt there was anything you could do, so don’t have nightmares worrying about it.’

  ‘I’m afraid the nightmares are a given in this job.’

  Layton nodded and gave Savage a wry look. ‘Tell me about it.’

  ***

  A little later, Savage was back down by her car trying to sweet talk DC Enders into accompanying her on an impromptu trip to God’s Haven.

  ‘I don’t like it, ma’am,’ Enders said. ‘DI Riley was most specific. The place is strictly off-limits until we find new evidence.’

  ‘Zac Francis is the new evidence.’ Savage stood by the MG. It was early evening now, the light low in the mist, and she could just make out Enders’ face. He didn’t look convinced. ‘Darius is aware of that.’

  Enders turned his head. Figures moved in the woodland, torches flashing in the trees as officers searched the area once more. Francis’s body had gone to the morgue, but John Layton and several CSIs were still at the byre.

  ‘You’ve spoken to DI Riley?’

  ‘I’ve talked to Gareth Collier.’ True, she had phoned Collier and told him about Francis’s death and her earlier discovery about his spell in prison with Marcus Clent, but she’d said nothing about visiting God’s Haven. Instead, she’d told him she was heading home and would see him first thing in the morning. ‘So let’s go, right?’

  Enders hesitated for a few seconds and then got in the car. Five minutes later, they were rumbling across the cattle grid that marked the boundary to God’s Haven.

  ‘Do you really believe Clent killed Francis?’ Enders said as Savage pulled up in the car park and they got out. ‘Seems like it would be asking for trouble.’

  ‘They met in prison,’ Savage said. ‘Clent saved Francis’s life. After that, Francis owed Clent. Killing Abigail, Faye and Smeeton was the payback.’

  ‘And Clent’s reward is to nail him up in the barn?’

  ‘Perhaps they fell out.’ Even as she said it, she realised the theory sounded weak.

  ‘The whole thing makes no sense, ma’am. Francis is fresh out of prison and he risks it all? I don’t buy it. Plus, he couldn’t have killed Abigail because he was at the hostel in Exeter.’

  There was that, Savage thought, as they walked across to the reception building and entered. Charlene Golding sat behind the desk, working at a keyboard.

  ‘You,’ she said, looking up. ‘You have no right to be here.’

  ‘There’s been another murder over the hill.’ Savage approached the reception desk. ‘I want to see Mr Clent now.’

  ‘I’m not sure about that.’ Golding held Savage’s gaze for several seconds. ‘Very well. Wait here.’

  She got up and left through the door at the back.

  ‘Now we’re in trouble,’ Enders said. ‘Clent will be straight on the phone to the Chief Constable.’

  Savage hoped not. If Maria Heldon found out about the visit, then Savage’s police career was over. Unless, of course, Savage could prove Clent was the killer.

  A clock on the far wall ticked by, minutes passing.

  ‘She’s been gone too long,’ Enders said.

  Savage was about to move to the reception desk when Golding came through the door.

  ‘He’s agreed to see you,’ she said. ‘If you wait outside, he’ll meet you at the front.’

  Savage nodded and she and Enders stepped out of the reception building into the gloom. A wash of light narrowed as the door closed behind them.

  Savage’s MG sat in the car park in an area of shadow. It was fully dark now, and the only illumination came from an outside light high on a pole and from the glow of windows in nearby buildings. Enders narrowed his eyes before strolling across to the car.

  ‘Something’s not right,’ ma’am,’ he said. He moved to the offside front wheel. ‘You’ve got a flat tyre.’

  Savage came across. She stood at the back of the car. The offside rear was also down. ‘I’ve got two.’

  ‘Three.’ Enders was on the other side at the front. He stepped to the rear and knelt. ‘Four. The sidewall’s been slashed by the look of it.’

  ‘Shit.’

  ‘I’ll call for backup.’ Enders stood and pulled out his phone.

  ‘No signal, Patrick, remember?’ Savage turned to head back to the reception building just as the light on the pole flickered out and darkness engulfed the parking area.

  ‘Ma’am?’ Enders peered at a nearby house. The glow from the windows faded as the lights inside bli
nked off, one by one. Then, next door, something similar happened. Enders whirled about and pointed. ‘Bit of a coincidence they’re all going to bed at exactly the same time.’

  He turned to Savage as the remaining lights went out, leaving them in near black.

  ‘Let’s get back to reception,’ Savage said. She walked across and tried the door. ‘Locked.’

  ‘Ms Golding!’ Enders rapped on the door. ‘Open up!’

  Nothing.

  ‘Charlene!’ Savage shouted. ‘Let us in!’

  Not a sound.

  ‘Try one of the houses,’ Savage said. ‘I’ll wait here in case she comes to the door.’

  ‘Right you are.’ Enders walked away, using the torch on his phone for illumination, a circle of light in the inky black.

  Savage stood for a few moments, feeling the chill in the air. She shivered and not just from the cold. God’s Haven at night was creepy. The buildings loomed like grey sentinels watching over everything, and it wasn’t hard to imagine the place back when it had been an asylum. She pictured the weak and the vulnerable locked up alongside the psychos, no distinction made between the two. She doubted the staff had empathy for either group. There’d have been beatings and forced treatment, freezing cells and lice-ridden mattresses, gruel and cold showers. If people weren’t mad when they arrived, they’d likely have gone insane after a short time. And then there was Jakab Mészáros, an immigrant perhaps not fully understanding the language, misunderstood himself and shut away because his creative mind was misinterpreted as insanity.

  What did Mészáros have to do with what was going on at God’s Haven? Absolutely nothing, she told herself. The toymaker had been dead for more than half a century, so the appearance of his creations could only be someone’s crude attempt to induce fear. Surely no rational person would be fooled? Then again, the current residents of God’s Haven weren’t rational. They believed Marcus Clent was sent by God to lead them to some higher state of being. They went along with his every word because not to do so might risk their heavenly salvation, even if that meant allowing him to abuse their young daughters. Clent’s actions were the real evil here, not the supposed spirit of Jakab Mészáros.

  And yet…

  Savage turned her back to the door, feeling nervous.

  ‘Patrick?’

  Enders had disappeared round the corner of a building, gone for several minutes now. What was taking him so long? The answer could only be that nobody was opening their doors. She moved across to the car again, intending to get inside and turn the lights on.

  She hovered next to the vehicle before deciding instead to go in search of Enders. She walked over to the first house, barely able to make out the path and twice stumbling off into the low box hedge that ran either side. She rounded the corner, expecting to see a glow from the DC’s phone, but there was nothing.

  Beside her, the windows in the house were black and gaping. Ahead there was another building, a converted barn. More dark windows. These people were weird, she thought. Hiding in their houses with the lights out, probably standing and watching her and Enders fumble round in the dark in a game of blind man’s bluff that was far from funny.

  ‘Patrick!’ She hissed the DC’s name out in a loud whisper. ‘Where the hell are you?’

  ‘He’s gone.’

  A giant figure loomed in the darkness, striding along the path, towering above her. The man lurched forwards, swinging something in from the left-hand side. She pushed her arm out, feeling a jarring pain as a metal bar slammed into her. The force of the blow bowled her sideways, and she fell over the box hedge.

  She moved fast, rolling clear in the darkness and crawling down the hedge line. She was in agony as she pushed herself up, aware of someone lumbering down the path and sweeping the bar into the hedge.

  ‘Come out!’ The voice was deep and low. Angry. ‘I warned you, and now I’m going to need to do things to you. You won’t be so pretty no more.’

  Savage stayed low and stumbled away. She edged across a patch of lawn and into the dark shadow of a building. She could see the figure now, quartering the area, swinging the bar back and forth.

  The wall of the building was rough against her back as she slid to one side. At the corner, she turned and ran back to reception, hoping Enders might be there. He wasn’t.

  She whirled about to see the figure come round the corner and make a beeline for her. For a split second she didn’t know what to do. She could try to dodge behind the car, she could rap on the reception door and hope Charlene Golding might let her in, or she could go to one of the houses and find help there. None of those options appealed, so she headed away from the buildings and took the lane that led from God’s Haven, sprinting towards the open moor.

  Chapter 30

  A call bringing the news about Zac Francis came as Riley left the hospital and returned to the station. He found Collier at a workstation trying to get on top of the latest developments, both professional and personal.

  ‘Nightmare,’ Collier said as his fingers clattered over the keyboard. ‘It’s my wedding anniversary today, and I’ve got a table booked at Fletcher’s. Flowers ordered and ready to pick up on the way home. Present wrapped. Then Zac Francis gets himself murdered. The wife’s going to go mental.’

  Riley muttered some words of sympathy before recounting Naomi Hester’s story.

  ‘It seems likely Faye was at God’s Haven,’ he said. ‘At some point, she runs away from the community, has nowhere to go, and ends up as one of Dave Smeeton’s runners. We don't know how long she’s been with him, but with her false identity, she figures she’s safe. Then, on the night of the party two weeks ago, she bumps into Naomi Hester.’

  ‘And?’ Collier said. He scowled, plainly not wanting any more complications to further ruin his evening. ‘And?’

  ‘If we assume Faye is hooked on whatever Smeeton is peddling, she’s probably off her head at the time. Plus, she’s paranoid Clent or his folks are going to catch up with her. The sight of the cross triggers a survival reaction, and poor Naomi ends up in hospital as a result.’

  ‘Uh-huh.’ Collier was interested now, something ticking over in his mind as he listened.

  Riley gestured at the image of Faye on the whiteboard. ‘Then we put out an appeal with Faye’s picture, taken from social media posts of the party, and somebody at God’s Haven spots it. They find Dave Smeeton – we don’t know how yet – and through him discover where Faye is hiding. She’s taken to the solar farm and murdered.’

  ‘Bugger.’ Collier tapped his head as if to knock some sense into himself. ‘Faye is Fiona Jones. Has to be.’

  ‘I thought we’d established she wasn’t?’ Riley pointed at the board again. There was a series of photographs of the three Brides of Christ. ‘Abigail, Isobel and Fiona.’

  Collier brought up a new window and scrolled through a series of files. He clicked one and it opened. ‘DI Savage wanted the photograph I cropped the picture of Fiona from. Now I understand why.’

  The one hundred and twenty residents of God’s Haven stood on a grassy bank in three lines, young children at the front.

  ‘There’s the girl several residents told me was Fiona.’ Collier pointed at a blonde girl. ‘And there is Isobel Anderson.’

  Riley scanned the image, roving back and forth until he found, half-hidden behind another resident, a pretty face framed with jet black hair. ‘And there is the real Fiona, the young woman we know as Faye. Clent made sure you were spun a story by the residents so we’d fail to make the connection when Fiona’s body was found. When you asked, each of them identified this other girl as Fiona.’

  ‘I’ve mucked up.’ Collier lowered his head. ‘Big time.’

  ‘It happens.’ Riley said. ‘I’ve been there, remember?’

  ‘Sure, but this is the missing piece and now it’s all making sense. Look.’ Collier hit a couple of keys and brought up a report. ‘DI Savage interviewed one Paulie Kenner at a commune in Molesworth Street. Charlotte’s note
s say Kenner dabbles in cannabis cultivation, but that it’s a bit more than a hobby.’

  ‘You reckon he’s one of Smeeton’s suppliers?’

  ‘Exactly, and that’s how the God’s Haven lot found Smeeton. Somebody traces Abigail back to the commune, shows Kenner a photo of Fiona Jones – Faye as we called her – and Kenner says the girl is Smeeton’s squeeze. Next thing, Smeeton gets a bit of impromptu chiropody, reveals where Fiona is hiding and is on his way to hell aboard the heroin express.’

  ‘So all the time Fiona has been missing from God’s Haven, she’s been hanging out with Smeeton?’

  ‘Perhaps not all the time, but she’d have been keeping her head down, trying to avoid the God’s Haven lot and the authorities. She probably fell in with Smeeton by accident.’

  ‘What about the other missing girl, Isobel Anderson?’

  ‘Fingers crossed she’s managed to stay one step ahead of the Puppet, right?’

  Yes, Riley thought, fingers crossed, but for how much longer could the girl’s luck hold out?

  He told Collier to keep digging and see if he could contact any of Smeeton’s other runners, and went in search of Hardin. He found the DSupt in his office digesting the news about Francis.

  ‘What we need,’ Hardin said as Riley entered, ‘is for Francis to have killed Abigail, Smeeton and Faye, and then for somebody to have popped him. Job done.’

  ‘That’s not possible, sir,’ Riley said. ‘Francis has a cast-iron alibi for the Abigail Duffy killing, and anyway, that still leaves whoever killed him out there. I’m afraid a couple of pieces of new evidence are pointing to Marcus Clent.’

  ‘Clent?’ Hardin’s voice turned sour. An involuntary tic twitched on his left cheek. ‘This had better be good, Darius. Very good.’

  Riley recounted his visit to the hospital and the information regarding the true identity of Faye. He spread his arms in an apologetic gesture.

  ‘Bollocks.’ Hardin sagged in his seat as if he’d already accepted Riley’s conclusions. ‘I’ll need to consult with the Chief Constable before we make any kind of move. She’ll want to see the evidence, and I dare say she’ll want to hear it from the horse’s mouth, which in this case is from you and DI Savage.’