THE GUILTY ONES a gripping crime thriller filled with stunning twists Page 25

  ‘A lot can be discarded,’ said Laura calmly. ‘If he continues as he has before, he is driven by the manipulation of intense love.’ She pointed to the lists. ‘He won’t be even mildly interested in most of this. He’s after intense emotion.’ She paused. ‘And justice. Sam disagrees with me on this, but I still think he needs a cause of some kind to make what he does acceptable to himself. I think he needs to be the avenging dark angel, the damaged child now grown up and fighting for justice.’

  Jackman’s gaze slid aside, and Marie caught a glint of something in his eyes. Was that fear? ‘Is anything in particular worrying you, boss?’

  Jackman took a while to respond. ‘You’ll need to know, although I’ve told Max not to mention it to anyone other than his closest family. He and Rosie are expecting a baby.’

  Her initial delight vanished in a second. What could be more vulnerable than a new baby?

  ‘But Alistair does not know this. It was only confirmed last night, and it has to stay well under wraps. That’s why Max hasn’t written it down.’ He turned to Laura. ‘I’m assuming this is exactly the kind of thing you’re talking about?’

  She nodded.

  Gary brought another batch of papers, and Marie really had to concentrate. The news about Max and Rosie had left her with her head full of questions. With an effort, she pushed them aside. ‘It’s interesting how some people have listed a whole load of people and things, and some are like this one . . .’ Marie held up Gary’s paper. On it he had simply written, “The Team.”

  Jackman smiled at her. ‘The Team features heavily in a lot of these. But yours mentions someone called Harvey. Who’s Harvey?’

  Marie blushed. ‘My bike. My Suzuki Hayabusa. I call it Harvey.’

  ‘Alistair Ashcroft rides a bike too, Marie. Maybe it’s called Roxanne, or Flossie, or something.’ They laughed, grateful for a moment of light relief.

  Just as Marie was starting to wonder whether this exercise was any use at all, Gary knocked on the door.

  ‘This is the last of the lists, sir, and Robbie asked me to tell you that we’ve picked up a very good photo of Stefan from the cleaning company. He’s done some work on it so it’s now got the same full wavy hair as he had in the CCTV picture. He’s circulating it to all forces and also the media.’

  ‘Good work. I suggest we flood the town with them too. Shop windows, bus stops, anywhere you can find. I want everyone in Saltern-le-Fen to know this man’s face.’

  Gary nodded. ‘I’ll see to it immediately, sir.’

  ‘Sir?’ Marie said. ‘I don’t think I’m being too helpful here. Could I go and do something else? You and Laura have this exercise pretty well in hand between the two of you.’

  ‘I value your input, Marie, but okay, we’ll fill you in when we’re done.’

  ‘I was wondering if you’d mind if I went to see Sheila Symons. We know she hasn’t much time left, and I’d hate for her to find out about Ashcroft and Blake from somewhere other than us.’

  Jackman nodded. ‘I did want to go myself, but I can see it’s not going to happen. Yes, Marie, you go.’

  Marie escaped as fast as she dared, and once outside the office heaved a sigh of relief. She couldn’t tell Jackman this, but she was sure the only way they would know what Ashcroft had in mind was after he had brought it about.

  She didn’t phone ahead. Sheila was going nowhere, and there would be someone looking after her, so she pulled on her riding gear and set off for Nettleby Oaks.

  Marie loved riding. Today the roads were clear and the weather good, just what she needed to blow away the cobwebs from her overcrowded brain. Riding her bike relaxed her and made her feel alive. Though Harvey wasn’t a flesh and blood loved one, she had put him on her list because she would be devastated if she lost her precious bike. She’d already lost one beautiful motorcycle through the actions of a crazed killer, and she had no intention of losing another.

  She pulled off her helmet and rang the doorbell. The door opened and she saw a face she hadn’t seen before peering suspiciously at her. ‘Liam! So you do exist!’

  She thrust her warrant card at him. ‘A word, if you please, and then I want to talk to your mother.’

  ‘Sod off!’

  She jammed her boot in the door and put a hand on his chest, pushing him backwards into the hall. ‘It wasn’t a polite request, chum. You’ve been giving us the run-around for days. We can do this here and now, or I get a car to pick you up and we take it into the nick. Your choice.’

  Liam threw her a poisonous look, turned and slouched into the lounge.

  She had known the minute she saw him that Liam wasn’t their killer, but she reckoned he deserved a bit of arm-twisting for his refusal to be interviewed. Leaving her boots in the hall, Marie followed him inside. ‘So, what made you decide to go against your mother’s wishes and refuse to talk to us? Something to hide, have you? Something you don’t want the rest of your family to know about?’

  Yvette appeared in the doorway and gave Marie a knowing smile.

  ‘I’ve got nothing to hide,’ Liam growled at her. ‘I just think Mum’s wrong. Being so ill, she’s not thinking straight. Why should we help you?’

  ‘Because we are trying to get to the truth, and we’re also trying to find a bloody dangerous psychotic killer. Any help, even yours, would be appreciated.’ She narrowed her eyes. ‘And your mother’s a damned sight cleverer than you’ll ever be, sunshine.’

  Liam was silent.

  She reached into her jacket and pulled out a copy of Alistair Ashcroft’s picture. ‘Do you recognise this man?’

  Liam looked at it and laughed. ‘This some kind of windup?’

  Marie felt a moment of confusion. Yvette looked over her brother’s shoulder and the recognition on her face too was instant.

  ‘That’s Alan. He’s not in trouble, is he?’

  ‘Sorry? Alan who?’ Marie asked.

  ‘He’s our counsellor. He’s been helping us for, oh, six years or so. He’s been amazing.’

  This wasn’t going the way Marie had expected. Even Liam showed signs of warmth when his sister spoke about this man.

  ‘He listens,’ he said. ‘I mean, really listens to us. Doesn’t give us any flannel either. He’s a solid bloke.’

  Marie tried to assimilate what she’d just been told. Alistair, as Alan, had been counselling the whole Symons family for over six years? This was massive! Maybe, just maybe, there would be a way to trace his lair. ‘How did you come to meet him?’

  ‘He was friends with two of our longer-standing supporters,’ Yvette said. ‘Christian and Mark. Mark was worried about us, and the strain that the campaign was putting on the family, and he asked Alan to talk to us. We still see him occasionally. He’s been a real tower of strength.’

  Yvette spoke so warmly of this man, this murderer. It made Marie feel oddly cold inside.

  Now Yvette was looking at her, frowning. ‘Why are you showing us a picture of him, Sergeant?’

  What to tell her? ‘We believe he can help us with our enquiries, Yvette. It’s imperative we find him.’

  ‘He’s missing?’ said Liam warily.

  ‘Yes. Have you seen him recently?’

  Liam shook his head. ‘No, not for weeks.’

  ‘What do you really know about him? And I assume the others you mentioned are Mark Courtney and Christian Ventnor?’

  Yvette nodded, and sat down on the sofa next to Liam. ‘He had some connection to the church, didn’t he, Liam?’

  Liam nodded. ‘Yes, but he never preached at you. He just seemed to understand what you were going through.’

  ‘I said “church,” but he wasn’t a minister or anything like that.’ Yvette was still frowning. ‘It was Mark that told us Alan worked with church aid groups, and he also had something to do with disturbed children in care.’

  Marie swallowed. ‘Excuse me for a moment, I have to ring this in.’ She stood up, hurried into the hall and phoned Jackman. ‘Get someone to go and speak t
o Christian Ventnor, and also Mark Courtney. Tell them to ask about a counsellor they recommended to the Symons family, someone by the name of Alan. I don’t have a surname. Jackman, Yvette and the elusive Liam have just fingered the photo of Alistair as this man they know as Alan. He’s been infiltrating this house for over six years!’

  Marie returned to Yvette and Liam. ‘Sorry, about that. I suppose you wouldn’t have an address for him, would you?’

  ‘No. He called round here regularly, but we never went to see him,’ Yvette said.

  ‘A phone number?’

  Yvette shook her head. ‘Sorry. We were grateful for the help he offered us, and it was all gratis, so we tried never to bother him in his private time.’ Yvette stared at Marie, her eyes wide. ‘You seem very anxious to speak to him. There isn’t a chance that he is . . . ?’ She gasped.

  ‘Let’s just say it’s a matter of real urgency that we find him.’

  Liam looked anxiously at Yvette and — to Marie’s surprise — took her hand and squeezed it. ‘Shit, sis! Looks like we cocked up, opening our hearts to the lovely Alan.’ He looked at Marie. ‘Or am I wrong?’

  ‘No, Liam, but none of you could have known. This man is one of the best confidence tricksters we’ve ever come across.’ Then the thought struck her. If Alistair was intent on manipulating love, love was in abundance here. Their love for Brendan had kept them going, kept them together for years. Surely one of the Symons family would make a perfect victim. She must mention it to Jackman, and Laura too.

  ‘One last thing before I ask to see your mother. Did Alan look exactly like this when he came here?’ She held up the picture again.

  ‘His hair was gelled back in a sleeker style, but other than that, yes, that’s Alan.’ Yvette looked to Liam and he nodded.

  Yvette stood up. ‘Why did you come today, Sergeant? I know you said to see Mother, but why?’

  Marie smiled gently. ‘Your mum doesn’t have long, I know, and I have some news for her. It’s something we would normally keep strictly to ourselves, but under the circumstances we wanted her to know before it’s too late. She deserves to hear it.’

  Liam glanced at his sister, and then Marie. ‘Can we hear too?’

  ‘Any of the family that are here can listen to what I have to say, but you have to promise to keep it to yourselves until we say otherwise. This must not be leaked to the press. That might completely ruin our chances of catching the killer.’

  Yvette opened the door, and they climbed the stairs to Sheila’s darkened room.

  * * *

  Jackman went in person to Mark Courtney’s house and found him in his home office, typing. Presumably yet more letters regarding Brendan’s posthumous pardon.

  He showed Courtney the photo of Ashcroft. ‘Where did you meet him?’

  ‘At a lecture, I believe. Yes, that’s it. When I retired I started work on a paper. I attended some lectures on the subject and he was at one of them. We hit it off immediately and we kept in touch. Interesting man. Had a wide knowledge of psychological theory.’

  Now why doesn’t that surprise me? thought Jackman. ‘And you say he worked as a counsellor?’

  ‘He specialised in depression in teenagers. His main interest was teen suicides. He’d done extensive studies apparently.’

  A specialist in suicide. Oh, perfect! ‘Did you see any proof of his qualifications? Any diplomas? Anything at all, really?’

  ‘I never went to his home, Inspector. He always came here.’

  Jackman began to lose heart. He needed to know where Ashcroft lived. ‘And Christian Ventnor knew him too? Is that right?’

  ‘I introduced them. Chris found him fascinating.’ He paused. ‘By the way, though I never went to Alan’s place, I think my sister did.’

  Jackman perked up. ‘Your sister?’

  ‘Yes. Pip. She and Alan became quite friendly. I’m sure she said she visited him once or twice, for business reasons.’

  ‘What sort of business?’ asked Jackman.

  ‘You’d have to ask Pip. I know she became quite fond of him, then he told her he was gay, but he did care for her as a friend. It was all rather sad, but they still remained pretty close.’

  ‘Can you tell me where I can find Pip, please, sir?’ Jackman half stood, ready to leave.

  ‘She lives next door. I’ll give her a call.’ He pulled a mobile from his pocket and phoned his sister. ‘Got a mo, Pip? Police are here. They want a word about Alan.’ He ended the call. ‘On her way.’

  Jackman studied him. ‘Can I ask, why the continued interest in the Brendan Symons case? It’s been years now, but you’ve become a central part, maybe the central part of the campaign. What made you persist with it for so long?’

  Mark Courtney stared into space. ‘The honest truth? Sheila, that’s why.’

  ‘Sheila Symons? You admire her stamina in keeping up the fight?’

  ‘I do, but it’s more than that. I’m in love with her. I’ve always loved her, even way back at school, and I never looked at anyone else. Unfortunately my friend Symons had more charisma, and he won fair lady.’ He sighed. ‘Now he’s dead, and I do the best I can to look out for her. She doesn’t know, Inspector, and considering she doesn’t have long left, I expect this conversation to remain between us, okay?’

  Jackman nodded. One big question answered. Before he could say more, Pip Courtney strode into the room.

  ‘Alan? Is he alright? He’s not hurt or anything, is he?’

  She was a vivacious redhead. Her voice was rather high pitched, and Jackman found it slightly irritating. ‘No. He’s, er, missing, and we need to find him as a matter of some urgency. Do you have his address?’

  ‘I did, but he moved about two months ago, and I haven’t seen him or heard from him since. I’ve been quite worried. Now I’m even more so, if you say he’s missing.’

  ‘Your brother tells us that you had some business dealings with this . . . gentleman. Isn’t it odd that he should move without leaving you a forwarding address?’

  ‘Our business dealings had been finalised,’ she said rather haughtily.

  ‘And what kind of business would that be?’

  She bit hard on her bottom lip.

  ‘Would you like me to leave you for a moment?’ Mark asked his sister. He turned a long-suffering smile on Jackman. ‘She’s always played her cards close to her chest, my sister. I’ve learned to keep my nose out.’

  ‘No, Mark. It’s over now, so it doesn’t matter anymore.’ Pip Courtney gave a deep sigh. ‘Because of what he was — you know, the way he was . . .’

  ‘Gay?’ prompted Jackman.

  ‘Yes. Because of that, his father threw him out and the rest of his family were less than supportive. I really felt for him, poor man. How he must have suffered!’

  Jackman kept his expression impassive.

  ‘Anyway,’ she coughed, ‘he had some properties, and he was anxious that his family shouldn’t know about them. He was paranoid that something would happen to him and they would come swooping down like vultures and get hold of his estate.’

  Mark was leaning forward, clearly wondering what was coming next.

  ‘We worked out a way to fool them. Alan sold the properties, then, when he found somewhere he liked, he gave me the money and I purchased it. As these were in my name, there was no way the family could touch them. For a small fee, I kept an eye on them, talk to the neighbours and the like. I would say that Alan was renting, he was such a good tenant, and so on.’

  ‘Keeping up appearances,’ murmured Jackman. ‘And everything was legally documented, should he need to sell or recoup his money?’

  ‘Exactly. It was just a paper transaction. I never had any real claim on his houses.’

  ‘How many were there?’

  ‘Three.’

  ‘He’s left them all?’

  Pip looked sad. ‘He — or rather, we — sold them not long ago. He said he wanted to travel and the properties would just be a burden, even if he let them
out.’

  Jackman thought for a while. ‘You must have used a solicitor for the conveyancing?’

  ‘Yes, Rotherham Keats. They are down one of the back alleys in Saltern town. It’s a very small company, but Alan didn’t want to use anyone his family might know.’

  Jackman scribbled down the name. ‘Could you give me Alan’s surname, Ms Courtney? I suppose it wasn’t Ashcroft, was it?’

  She looked mildly surprised. ‘Yes, it was.’

  ‘And I’d also like the names and addresses of those three properties please.’ Jackman added the information to his notes. ‘And you have no idea where he might be staying now?’

  ‘He said he’d be in touch, but . . . Why exactly are you interested in him?’ Suddenly she seemed doubtful.

  ‘We need to talk to him urgently about an ongoing case. So if you do hear from him, please say nothing about our talk, but phone me immediately.’ He handed her his card. ‘Thank you both for your time.’

  Outside in his car, Jackman rang Orac direct.

  ‘Jackman? Goodness! Well, there’s a first time for everything, I guess. How can I help you, Detective Inspector?’

  In his mind’s eye, Jackman saw her silvery eyes. ‘If I give you two names, three addresses of recently sold properties, and a firm of solicitors, could you work your magic and find out if the man involved, who is really Alistair Ashcroft, has any other dealings with this particular law firm. What I need is a current address.’ He gave her the details.

  ‘I’ll ring you back when I have answers,’ Orac said.

  Jackman ended the call, and then contacted Robbie. ‘Any luck with seeing Ventnor?’

  ‘Yes, sir, although he knows pretty well nothing about Ashcroft, other than some load of old tosh he’s been fed. I reckon Ventnor was a bit enamoured with the enigmatic Ashcroft.’

  ‘Courtney said much the same, although he used the word “spell-bound.”’

  ‘Wraps people around his little finger, doesn’t he, sir?’

  ‘Sadly, yes. Have you heard from Marie?’

  ‘On her way back, sir. And she says to knock Liam off the list. He’s kosher. A right little tosser, but kosher. Her words, not mine.’

  Jackman smiled. ‘I thought that might be the case, Robbie. Okay, back to base.’