Solving

14/05/2021 11:21

A/N: all the pieces finally come together for Harding and Patel

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Harding and Patel stared through the double mirror at the ordinary, even dull, man sitting in the interview room.  He had an unconcerned air, sipping his tea and looking around the room.  Most people, even those who had nothing to hide, got nervous in a police station, but he seemed quite at ease.  His lack of anxiety created a tight knot in Harding’s stomach.  Patel rubbed her hands down the front of her jeans.

“You, too?” he asked.

She turned to him.  “Me too, what, Sarge?”

“His lack of nervousness is making me nervous.”

Looking back at the other man, she nodded.  “Like a long-tailed cat in a room full of rocking chairs.”

He smiled tightly.  “Come on, let’s get this over with.”

Together they entered the interview room and sat opposite the man.

“Thank you for coming in,” said Patel.  “At this time, you are not under arrest, just helping us with our enquiries.  However, we would like to record this interview.”

“I have no problem with that,” the man replied.

Patel switched on the machine and recorded the date, time, and those present.

Harding looked at the front page of the file, then glanced at the man.  “You know, Gary, you could have saved us a lot of trouble.”

“How, Sergeant?” he asked, his ordinary face adopting an even blander expression.

“We appealed for help from the public weeks ago, but you never came forward to tell us what you knew.”

“I know a lot of things.  Gathering knowledge is something of a hobby; fills the time.  Being out of work leaves me with a lot of time on my hands.”

“I’m sure.  But I'm not talking about knowledge in general.  You knew about these murders because you orchestrated them.”

A pitying expression spread across Gary’s unremarkable features.  “I’ve never murdered anyone, Sergeant.”

“I know you haven’t, but you planned them, put the killer and his victim together each time, came up with the idea of the painted frown.”

“Smile.”

“What did you say?” asked Patel sharply.

“It was in the papers.  The killers used make up to paint a smile on their victims.”

Now Patel smiled.  “No it wasn’t, Gary.  We released the information that the victims’ faces had been painted post-mortem, but we didn’t say how.  And we never mentioned more than one killer.”

A real expression, panic, showed on Gary’s face.

“Well, I just assumed...  It’s in the song, right?  ‘A painted smile’...”

“Nice try, Gary, but it’s no good,” said Harding.  “It’s very good of you to provide those details on tape, but that’s the cherry on the icing.  We already have all the evidence we need to go to court.”

The smug expression returned.  “What evidence?  You can’t link me to a single murder scene.  I didn’t know any of the victims.”

“Neither of those things is true, Gary.  You may not have been present at any of the murders, but we know the killers all took a photograph of the victim.  A genius stroke, by the way, using a disposable camera.  So old school.”

“What camera?”

“The one you sent to Clive Marshall with instructions on how to find David Thompson, and how to arrange the body.  We know you have a dark room – photography being another of your hobbies.”

“That doesn’t prove...”

“And then we come to the third of your hobbies; web design.  Sorry, not really a hobby, is it?  That was your job.  It’s always good to keep your hand in, though, right?”

“Thanks for rubbing it in, Sergeant.  I had a great job, then there was the crash and...”

“And you were made redundant.  So were a lot of other people.  They didn’t turn ordinary people into killers,” said Patel.

Gary gave a short laugh.  “Neither did I.  They were already killers – they just didn’t realise it.”

“So you decided to help them.  You created your website – Smile When You’re Dying – and just waited...”

“I provided a service!  All those lonely men, tired of living – no, existing – in their agonising lives.  No work, no friends, no family.  Then, at the end, someone giving them the peace they needed, knowing that they would gain their own peace.

“Peace you have denied to Clive and David.  Well done, Sergeant!”

Comments

No comments found.

New comment