The Sister(87)

Kennedy narrowed his eyes. ‘And Belchley, you said he didn’t stop talking. I assume someone took notes, what did he say?’ Tanner coughed a little ahem in to his fist. He’d have to correct him, but he did not relish it. If he didn’t, then later it would come back on him. He sometimes wondered if Kennedy did it on purpose to test his mettle. ‘It’s Bletchley, sir.’

‘Thank you for picking me up on that tiny detail, Tanner.’ He glared hotly at him. ‘I ask you again. What did he say?’

Tanner returned his gaze.

Kennedy stared at him coolly. For a second, he saw his subordinate’s face darken, anger flashing ominously in the younger man’s eyes.

Tanner struggled to keep his temper. ‘He’s admitted he knows Miss Stone, but he has an alibi for the night in question. He was fishing on the lakes in Hadleigh, twenty-five miles away. Two or three other fishermen saw him, he reckons; he’s given us two names, Bob and Dave.’ The stony expression on Kennedy’s face made him want to smile. It was like working with a teenage child who has had a humour by-pass. ‘We’re getting that checked out at the moment. He also readily admits to making chloroform on the school’s premises. He’s been suspended for it, so it’s a bit difficult to deny, but he says he used to make it for an old guy, who used it to gas insect specimens.’

‘I don’t suppose we have a name there, either,’ Kennedy observed dryly.

‘You’re right. He said he used to make it up occasionally for a guy who collected butterflies and moths since the sixties, but it’s frowned on to do it now- the collecting that is, and you can’t buy the old substances like those hobbyists used to, not without the relevant safety certificates,’ he said as he twirled his pen between his fingers. ‘He said he never actually met him.’

‘So how did he pass the stuff over to him?’

‘I covered that with him already.’ He opened his notebook. ‘I suggested he was lying. This is what he actually said, “Why would I? Look, he phoned me. He asked me if I could make him up a batch. He told me to put it in the boot of my car and meet him at the Anchor in Benfleet, 9 o’clock that night. ￡50 cash, no questions, asked. I agreed. I went in and waited half-hour; he never showed, so I left. The following morning, when I unlocked the boot to take the stuff out, it was gone and no money either; can you believe that? He nicked it off me!”’

‘It almost sounds believable,’ Kennedy remarked dryly.

‘That’s what I thought. I asked him how he thought this guy had got his number and he said he thought he got it from the school.’

‘Had the car been broken into?’

‘No, sir, I already asked him that – it hadn’t.’ Kennedy’s phone rang.

‘Kennedy,’ he said, listened for a moment and then put the phone down.

‘The warrant is ready. I don’t know about you, Tanner, but I’m itching to get round there.’





Chapter 68



Adam Bletchley lived on the ground floor of a house divided into two flats. His landlady resided upstairs; they obtained a set of keys from Bletchley. Tanner rang her doorbell to let her know what was happening. She was a woman in her early sixties with pink candyfloss hair, wearing eccentric over-sized glasses.

‘Mrs Wilkinson? DI John Tanner, we have a warrant to search Adam Bletchley’s flat.’

‘Okay, what’s he done?’ She screwed her eyes up at him. ‘All that sneaking about in the middle of the night, I knew he was up to no good.’

‘We’re just making enquiries at this stage, Mrs Wilkinson. We might need a word with you afterwards, if that’s all right?’

‘Of course, it would be a pleasure,’ she said with a wink. ‘Call me Vi, it’s easier.’

She didn’t go back upstairs; instead, she hung around by the front door to Bletchley’s flat. Tanner couldn’t help noticing she wore pink pom-pom slippers with her jeans.





‘Jesus H. Christ,’ Kennedy said, gawping. Tanner joined him at the entrance to Bletchley’s bedroom.

Inside, one whole wall was a collage of photographs of young women. Hundreds of them arranged in clusters, with each girl as a subject. All had the appearance of classic covertly taken stalker photos. When they were later analysed, they found twenty-six subjects and perhaps unsurprisingly, Natasha Stone was among them. He’d grouped her pictures together in the top left hand corner. There were images of her out jogging, sitting inside McDonalds by the window, out with friends, there was even a photograph taken of her and Bletchley. They also found a list of names and addresses. All they had to do was match the images to the names, to see what that shook out. In the kitchen, they found a large medical type jar. Kennedy put on a pair of latex gloves and opened it. The sweet, cloying smell arrested his intake of air at the nostrils. He knew instinctively it was chloroform. He screwed the lid back down. In a lower base unit at the back of the cupboard, there was a loose panel; behind it was stowed a black plastic bin bag. He reached in and withdrew it carefully. Inside was a roll of duct tape, white boiler suit, a box of latex gloves similar to those he had just put on and a black hood and Stanley knife.

The whole place was crawling with Scenes of Crime officers within the hour.