Bryant & May on the Loose: A Peculiar Crimes Unit Mystery Page 0,87

You’re going to tell me they were murdered by a deranged pagan who still believes in an ancient head-severing sacrificial rite.’

‘It would be tempting to believe so, because of the date.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘Sacrificial ceremonies associated with the severing of the head traditionally climax at the end of the third week in May, so his timing is spot-on. But I certainly think it’s someone who knows the churchyard well.’

‘Why? What in Heaven’s name has that got to do with it?’

‘Simply this. Try to think of another place in Central London so utterly desolate that you could dispose of the bodies of three grown men without being picked up on CCTV. There are a few cemeteries, I suppose, but they’re nearly all locked at night. It has to be someone who’s familiar with the churchyard and its immediate surroundings—the biggest construction site in the city. I just have to find a way to vibrate the air. I have to force him out.’

‘Arthur, you may have a point there but please, we need to present a united front on this. Go and hang out with your necromancers and astrologers, but come back with some tangible proof.’

‘Jolly good. I shall do just that.’

‘Fine. And call me if you get stuck.’ May watched, shaking his head in wonder, as his old friend looped his scarf around his neck, took up his walking stick and stumped off along the corridor, into darkness.

36

ST PANCRAS DAY

Ed Tremble, Camden Council’s land registry officer, seemed to be more covered in dust than ever. Bryant was starting to wonder if they stored the man in a broom cupboard overnight. There were fresh flecks of white in his hair. He caught Bryant staring and apologised.

‘Oh, I was painting my kitchen ceiling last night. It’s emulsion.’

Bryant threw him a disbelieving glance, then shifted Maggie Armitage into his line of vision. ‘This is my friend Mrs Armitage,’ he explained. ‘She’s going to help me go through the files.’

‘Hello, Mrs Armitage. Are you an archivist?’ asked Tremble.

‘No, love, I’m a witch. A white one, so don’t disturb yourself.’

‘Ha-ha, very good.’ Tremble looked unsure whether it was good or not. ‘I’ve laid out all the documents you asked for.’ On the plans chest before them a large-scale ordinance survey map had been constructed from dozens of separate overlapping pages, taped together. ‘I’ll just be in my cupboard when you need me.’

I knew it, thought Bryant.

‘That’s mine, just down there.’ Tremble pointed to a wooden cubicle filled with precarious stacks of folders and shambled off.

‘I like him; he’s come in useful to you, he has the aura for it. So—what are we looking for?’ Maggie rubbed her hands together briskly, jangling her bracelets. It was freezing in the basement of the land records office.

‘Mr Tremble has assembled copies of all of the land rights the ADAPT Group purchased before it could submit its plans to the council for approval,’ Bryant explained. ‘The answer’s here among these documents. This case is about ownership.’

‘I don’t understand why you’re so sure.’

‘Maddox Cavendish had helped to buy land for ADAPT, and Terry Delaney was hired to help clear it. That leaves Adrian Jesson, who has no connections with the company beyond the fact that his body was found near its offices. Jesson was an obsessive-compulsive, involved in a bitter feud with a rival collector of memorabilia named Richard Standover. It turns out that Standover lives with Jesson’s sister in Spain, so Jesson has another reason to hate him.’

‘Has anyone checked up on him?’

‘Janice found out that Standover was in Majorca with the sister on the day his rival was murdered, so that’s a dead end.’

‘It doesn’t mean he wasn’t involved. You should have him brought in.’

‘Comic-book collector psychically slaughters three while holidaying abroad? Doesn’t seem very likely.’ He groped in his overcoat pocket and produced something that looked like a ball of brown modelling clay. ‘Do you want some of this?’

Maggie examined the lump with suspicion. ‘I don’t know. What is it?’

‘Carrot cake with yoghurt icing. It’s come out of its packet.’

‘No, thanks. I’m trying to lose weight.’

‘I can’t imagine why. It’s not as if you make an effort to attract men.’

‘I want to feel good about myself. Don’t be so horrible. Your aura turns a very unhealthy shade of heliotrope when you’re rude to people. Beneath the witch I’m a woman, you know. I do have feelings.’

‘Well, can you not? We need to get back to the map. I want to see if ADAPT bought everything legally. I don’t