Murder on the Moor - C. S. Challinor [56]
Rex thought otherwise. Everyone assumed the serial child killer must have murdered Moira, but what was the motive? Why attract attention to himself when he had tried so hard to escape detection? Rex bid the guests remain where they were and to make sure Beardsley did not escape.
“No chance of that,” Alistair said, snatching up Cuthbert’s rifle and pointing it at the prone form of the pedophile as though nothing would make him happier than to put an end to his despicable existence.
Rex met Chief Inspector Dalgerry at the front door. Squat of stature and heavily jowled, he resembled a bulldog in a black rain cape. Behind him, blue and yellow squad cars with flashing roof lights swarmed the driveway as uniformed constables staked out the property beneath the drizzle. It looked as though Dalgerry had brought his whole task force.
“I got your message,” he told Rex. “This is Inspector Strickler and Sergeant Dawes from Area Command HQ in Fort William.” They flashed their warrant cards. “What do you have for us?”
“In here.” Rex led the chief inspector into the living room.
Dalgerry’s dark beady eyes roved over the guests and came to rest on Beardsley, who was beginning to regain consciousness.
“This the suspect?”
“Aye, minus his disguise. Rob Roy Beardsley, originally from Brora. Now lives in Glasgow. Previous conviction for child molestation in 2001. Sentenced to five years.” Rex summarized the rest of the results of Thaddeus’ research. “Abused as a child and put in a series of foster homes where he was rejected by the other children.” Was this the reason for the name-switches on the photographs? Were the victims supposed to represent the girls who’d refused to accept him? “Cruelty to pets was usually the reason he was returned to the institution,” Rex told Dalgerry.
“Where’d you get your information?”
“A reliable source in London.”
“What evidence d’you have that this is the Moor Murderer?”
Rex showed him the photos he had taken of the contents of the red suitcase. “I stumbled upon these in his room at the Loch Lochy Hotel where he is currently staying,” he said in a low voice.
“Stumbled?”
“I wasna absolutely sure of his guilt at that point. I set out to prove he was staying at the hotel under false pretences.”
“I sent a squad car over there after I got your message.”
“He said he had not been to Rannoch Moor,” Rex went on to explain. “Other information he gave me did not ring true, either. It was hard to separate fact from fable. I had to go and see what I could find.”
“You have proof he went to Rannoch Moor?” Dalgerry asked.
Rex nodded decisively. “He was at Loch Laidon. A wetland vascular plant, the Rannoch Rush or Scheuchzeria Palustris grows there. I found a sample of it on his hiking boot. I had marked on the grid map where I’d come across this unique specimen.”
Chief Inspector Dalgerry examined the map Rex showed him. “It’s within meters of where Melissa Bates’ body was recovered last night.” He signaled to an officer in the hall. “Arrest that man.”
Leaping to his feet, Beardsley pushed the rifle out of his face and bounded toward the window, which Helen had inched open earlier to air out the room. Alistair pulled the trigger. A muffled click ensued, accompanied by the acrid smell of damp cordite. Two policemen fell upon Beardsley before he could smash through the glass. The guests were all on their feet, except Cuthbert, incapacitated by his sprained ankle.
“The gun must have got wet in the grass,” he remarked. “Bloody useless thing. The dealer ripped me off! He assured me it was the latest in Finnish technology.”
Rex took the rifle off Alistair. “Just as well it misfired. You’re lucky you did not kill him.” He glanced anxiously at the chief inspector.
“I wish I had!” Alistair lashed out at Beardsley.
Rex pulled at his colleague’s arm. “Easy now. Let justice take its course.”
“What if he gets off?”
“He won’t,” Dalgerry told Alistair. “Ample proof this time. A wit-ness in the vicinity of Muiredge saw a man matching Beardsley’s description.”
“What was he wearing?” Rex inquired.