Private London - James Patterson [71]
‘The Jane Does’?’
‘We need to check, but yeah, probably.’
‘What the hell did he take their organs for?’
Chief Inspector Holland spread his hands. ‘This guy was all kinds of nutter. For all we know, he was going to make a casserole with them.’
‘What did he say in the note?’ asked Kirsty.
‘He confesses to the four killings.’
‘Why did he do it?’
‘He was part of a group. Exchanging photos.’
Kirsty nodded. She’d seen the photos. ‘And what happened?’
‘One of the people gathering the photos. A Romanian nurse …’
‘Adriana Kisslinger?’
The CI looked puzzled. ‘How did you know that?’
‘I didn’t. I guess you just confirmed it, though. It was a line of enquiry.’
Holland looked for a moment as if he might press her on the matter but shrugged it off. Not his problem. ‘Anyway, she started blackmailing the group – a teacher, a social worker, a surgeon. Figured the surgeon in particular could be the jackpot.’
‘So, what – he killed them all?’
‘And then he killed himself.’
‘Guilt?’
‘Who knows?’ Holland gestured at the Japanese armour. ‘He was obviously a sick fantasist. Doubt we’ll ever really know what was going through his head. He says he was confronted with what he really was, according to his suicide note, and couldn’t deal with it any more.’
‘Very Japanese.’
The chief inspector nodded. ‘Looks like he was a big fan of the culture.’
‘And the fingers?’ asked DI James.
Holland shrugged. ‘No idea.’
‘Japanese again,’ said Kirsty Webb. ‘The Yakuza. They have a tradition of cutting off a finger if one of them does something wrong.’
‘You seem to know a lot about this stuff.’
Kirsty shook her head. ‘Only from films. Robert Mitchum was in a movie about it. Cut off half his finger in it.’
‘Seems particularly appropriate in this case, then,’ said the chief inspector.
‘Sir?’ asked DI James.
‘Kiddy-fiddlers,’ Holland said, anger sparking in his eyes. ‘It’s not all I’d cut off.’
Chapter 90
SUZY WAS LEANING against the wall by the door to the three girls’ apartment.
Tim Graham was sitting on the couch, holding a bloodied handkerchief to his nose. He was glaring at me.
‘You’re not going to get away with this.’
‘You threatening me, Tim?’ I asked.
‘I’m promising you.’
‘Because if you want Suzy here to …’
He shrank back into the sofa.
‘He didn’t want to wait to meet you, Dan. I had to persuade him.’
‘You didn’t have to break my nose.’
‘He took a swing.’ She shrugged. ‘What’s a girl to do?’
‘You want to tell us what you are doing here, Tim?’ I asked.
‘I don’t have to tell you anything.’
I sighed. ‘See, this isn’t one of those good cop, bad cop situations. We’re both bad cops.’
‘Right,’ he snorted derisively. ‘You’re not even cops.’
I took three paces across the room and hit him. Hard. Backhanded my fist to the left side of his head. He flew off the sofa and landed on the floor, whimpering. Tears starting in his eyes.
I was glad. Truth was I was tempted to bust him on the nose again – finish the job that Suzy had started. But I needed to get some answers first.
‘Let me explain something to you, Mister Graham,’ I said, squatting down on my heels and speaking patiently. ‘Laura and Hannah drugged my god-daughter. She was clubbed with a baseball bat like a baby seal and was left to die in the gutter.’
I bent down, grabbed him with both hands, picked him up and threw him back onto the sofa.
‘Do I have your attention now?’ I asked.
Graham nodded, holding a hand to his nose which was running with blood and drool.
‘Because of them she is lying in intensive care, fighting for life.’ That last bit wasn’t strictly true any more but I had no intention of letting the maggot squirming on the sofa know that.
‘I had nothing to do with any of it.’
I turned to Suzy. ‘I’m going outside for a cigarette. Why don’t you see if you can loosen his memory some?’
I headed for the door. He wasn’t to know that I didn’t smoke.
‘Wait!’ He practically shouted it.
I didn’t blame him. I wouldn’t want Suzy putting the hard question to me, either. And I’m a professional tough guy.