code and the way we got in. She shook her head as I talked, her eyes lowered. When I’d finished, she looked me in the eye. “I understand you’ve just lost a close friend, but Christ, what were you thinking of, Matt? Why didn’t you call me as soon as you heard from Dave? We’d have arrived here quicker and that might have saved his life.”
I glanced away. “I don’t think so. Sara was playing The Soul Collector
97
with us. She’d have got away whatever, and sirens would just have given her more warning.”
Karen’s eyes flared. “We don’t always use sirens. Didn’t it occur to you that you might have been walking into a trap?”
“There were four of us,” I said, though I wasn’t going to tell her that Pete had been out the back with his sniper’s rifle and Rog had been waiting with his Glock for anyone who left by the front door.
“Coming through the pantry window meant you could have been picked off by a primary school bully,” she said, dropping her gaze again. “What were you armed with?”
I kept my mouth shut.
“The others took your weapon, didn’t they? Where are they?”
“I’ve no idea,” I said, and that was the truth. The plan we’d agreed on stipulated that we would split up if there was an attack on any of us.
It looked like she believed me, but I was sure there would be cars dispatched to their houses to check. They wouldn’t be there—we each had our own list of randomly selected hotels and bed-and-breakfast places that none of the others had seen.
There was a tap on the door. The potbellied form of Dr. Redrose approached. “Mr. Wells, I understand the deceased was a friend. My condolences.” He turned to Karen. “I’ve finished. Cause of death was obviously the four close-range shots to the head. CSIs have dug out what looks like a 9 mm bullet from the sofa. There were single shots to each knee and two shots to each thigh.”
His small eyes moved from Karen to me and then back again. “There’s no message in any obvious place. We’ll see what the postmortem shows. As for time of death, the 98
Paul Johnston
body temperature suggests between two and three hours ago.” He waddled away.
Karen was studying me. “You got here at ten-fifty, you said. He was killed not long before that.”
I nodded. “I told you, she’s playing with us.”
“Why are you so sure it’s Sara?”
I shrugged. “I’ll bet you’ll find no traces of the killer. That smacks of Sara’s organizational skills. But it’s also obvious from the modus operandi, Karen. She shot Dave in the legs just before her brother was killed. He was finished in execution-style by shots to the head, as the SAS men did with the White Devil.”
“And as you described in your book that’s been read by millions of people.” She blinked at me. “Why no message?”
“There might still be one,” I said, swallowing a surge of vomit. “Inside him.”
She looked away.
There was another knock, and Taff Turner came in. Karen nodded to him to sit down. He’d already offered me his sympathy, but I knew he was unhappy about how I’d found the body.
“There isn’t much to go on, guv,” he said. “The techies are looking for prints, but they’ll need to take all the family’s to exclude them.” He looked down at the pair of black leather gloves in front of me. “I’d put money on the fact that the killer was wearing gloves.” He shook his head at me. That was the nearest I was going to get to an admission that he knew I wasn’t a formal suspect. “The driveway is asphalt, so we can forget getting any shoe imprints from there.”
“Anything you find in the garden will have to be The Soul Collector
99
compared with Matt’s miniature army’s boots,” Karen said. “The four of them were here.”
A weary sigh passed Taff’s lips. “Wonderful,” he said.
“Anything else we need to know?” He gave me a questioning look.
“How the killer got in,” I said, still bothered by
I glanced away. “I don’t think so. Sara was playing The Soul Collector
97
with us. She’d have got away whatever, and sirens would just have given her more warning.”
Karen’s eyes flared. “We don’t always use sirens. Didn’t it occur to you that you might have been walking into a trap?”
“There were four of us,” I said, though I wasn’t going to tell her that Pete had been out the back with his sniper’s rifle and Rog had been waiting with his Glock for anyone who left by the front door.
“Coming through the pantry window meant you could have been picked off by a primary school bully,” she said, dropping her gaze again. “What were you armed with?”
I kept my mouth shut.
“The others took your weapon, didn’t they? Where are they?”
“I’ve no idea,” I said, and that was the truth. The plan we’d agreed on stipulated that we would split up if there was an attack on any of us.
It looked like she believed me, but I was sure there would be cars dispatched to their houses to check. They wouldn’t be there—we each had our own list of randomly selected hotels and bed-and-breakfast places that none of the others had seen.
There was a tap on the door. The potbellied form of Dr. Redrose approached. “Mr. Wells, I understand the deceased was a friend. My condolences.” He turned to Karen. “I’ve finished. Cause of death was obviously the four close-range shots to the head. CSIs have dug out what looks like a 9 mm bullet from the sofa. There were single shots to each knee and two shots to each thigh.”
His small eyes moved from Karen to me and then back again. “There’s no message in any obvious place. We’ll see what the postmortem shows. As for time of death, the 98
Paul Johnston
body temperature suggests between two and three hours ago.” He waddled away.
Karen was studying me. “You got here at ten-fifty, you said. He was killed not long before that.”
I nodded. “I told you, she’s playing with us.”
“Why are you so sure it’s Sara?”
I shrugged. “I’ll bet you’ll find no traces of the killer. That smacks of Sara’s organizational skills. But it’s also obvious from the modus operandi, Karen. She shot Dave in the legs just before her brother was killed. He was finished in execution-style by shots to the head, as the SAS men did with the White Devil.”
“And as you described in your book that’s been read by millions of people.” She blinked at me. “Why no message?”
“There might still be one,” I said, swallowing a surge of vomit. “Inside him.”
She looked away.
There was another knock, and Taff Turner came in. Karen nodded to him to sit down. He’d already offered me his sympathy, but I knew he was unhappy about how I’d found the body.
“There isn’t much to go on, guv,” he said. “The techies are looking for prints, but they’ll need to take all the family’s to exclude them.” He looked down at the pair of black leather gloves in front of me. “I’d put money on the fact that the killer was wearing gloves.” He shook his head at me. That was the nearest I was going to get to an admission that he knew I wasn’t a formal suspect. “The driveway is asphalt, so we can forget getting any shoe imprints from there.”
“Anything you find in the garden will have to be The Soul Collector
99
compared with Matt’s miniature army’s boots,” Karen said. “The four of them were here.”
A weary sigh passed Taff’s lips. “Wonderful,” he said.
“Anything else we need to know?” He gave me a questioning look.
“How the killer got in,” I said, still bothered by
Similar Books
