know you don’t believe he ever made it this far. But she’s still insisting, so … anyway, she says she had a brainwave that he might have been hanging out in a gym because he was always into his fitness and so on, so she checked out a couple nearby, and at one of them the staff said there was a bloke who came in every weekday for a few weeks. He said his name was Patrick, not Danny, but she asked to see CCTV and she says this guy’s wearing some sort of disguise so she can’t be totally sure, but what she is sure about is that he’s wearing her husband’s watch, which has convinced her that it’s hi—’
‘A disguise?’ Helena snorted. ‘And you’re sending someone down there? Are you sure? It sounds like a load of old—’
‘Boss! BOSS!’
DC Tara Lemming was running across the room towards them, her black ponytail bouncing. She skidded to a halt, slightly out of breath, her eyes bright.
‘You’re not going to believe this,’ she said.
‘What now?’ said Helena. ‘Are you OK?’
‘I’m fine. And you will be too, when you hear what’s just happened.’
She looked from Helena to Devon, then back again. Helena felt a little shiver of excitement.
‘Go on.’
‘Boss, a man’s just walked into reception downstairs. He says he wants to speak to whoever’s in charge of the so-called serial killer case. And – wait for it – he says he’s here to hand himself in. He says he killed them. All of them. The two in London, Mervin Elliott, Ryan Jones and Danny O’Connor. He says he’s the serial killer.’
Chapter 21
I walked back from the gym on Tuesday morning feeling close to despair. As DS Clarke had promised, I’d been met there at 10 a.m. by DC Frankie Stevens, but he’d seemed distracted, glancing at his watch as he waited for Gerry to load up the CCTV footage. Gerry had taken his time, clearly rather taken with the police officer and giving him coquettish sidelong glances as he tapped keys and clicked on files. When we were finally able to show the detective the shots of the man I was now, on second viewing, even more convinced was Danny, he studied them for a few moments then said doubtfully: ‘They’re not very clear pictures, are they? I mean, that could be anyone really. I know he’s your husband, Gemma, and you’d be the one most likely to recognize him, but with a hat and glasses and a beard …’
‘But that’s his watch, I know it is. Look, there.’ I jabbed a finger at the screen. ‘It’s really unusual – it’s a Nomos Tetra, I bought it for him as wedding gift. And I know the way he moves, the way he walks – look, as he heads away from the desk. It’s him, DC Stevens. This is where he was coming every day when I thought he was going to work. This proves it, can’t you see? It proves he was alive and well until twelve days ago when he stopped coming here and he vanished. It proves I’m telling the truth, you must believe me now? I didn’t bloody kill him in London, did I, because he was here, safe and well!’
My voice was getting louder and louder, my frustration growing. At the words ‘kill him’ Gerry took a step back, a shocked expression replacing the genial one he’d been sporting previously.
‘You … you killed Patrick?’ he said, his voice tremulous.
‘What? No … no, of course I didn’t!’ I reached out a hand to touch his arm, but he backed away, looking scared.
‘He’s just missing, like I told you. And it’s Danny, not Patrick, remember?’ I said. Gerry just stared at me, edging even further away, so I turned back to DC Stevens. I was starting to feel a little panicky. How could I get him to believe me?
‘Please, DC Stevens,’ I began, but he was looking at his watch again.
‘Look, I’m sorry, but I need to go. We have something … well, I just need to get back. But, er … Gerry, is it? Gerry, can you copy that footage onto a disk or whatever and send it to me at the station? Just so we have it on file. Here, my details and the address …’
He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a business card which he handed to a now grinning Gerry.
‘No problem, Frankie,’ he said. ‘I’ll deliver it myself.’