Turning round, he then lifted the silicon gun out of his briefcase. Seeing the workmen applying the white gel round the edges of his bath those months before had made him retreat back down the corridor in disgust. The stuff had dried into something rubbery, and though it hadn't actually been in anyone's mouth, its presence in the corner of the bathroom was a continual source of discomfort to him.
Now he lifted the gun up, the tube of silicon gel mounted in the heavy metal frame. The thought of the tube's contents sent waves of nausea through him but, knowing how important his actions were, he inserted the tapered end of the tube deep into her open mouth. Grasping the solid metal plunger piece in one hand, he then pushed half a pint of thick white gel down the back of her throat.
Even though she was heavily sedated, her chest heaved and the tendons at the side of her throat flexed as she started to choke. But he pressed the plunger harder, sending a snake of it coiling into her windpipe where it quickly formed an immovable plug.
Her torso jerked and rocked as her lungs fought to drag in air. But the substance was too stubborn to be shifted and after a few more seconds her movements slowed and then stopped.
Tom got up and dropped the gun back into his briefcase. He looked around him and picked her passport off the table. After locking up his briefcase he carried their cups through to the kitchen and tipped the tea down the sink. Once he had sluiced them out with water, he placed them on the draining board and walked out of the flat.
Chapter 26
5 November 2002
The incident room was silent as everyone waited for the two search teams to report back. Jon sat at his desk, furious that McCloughlin had excluded him from both.
The leader of the team sent to the house of Sly's grandma phoned at ten past eleven. The call was quickly patched through to McCloughlin and people tried not to watch as he listened to the message.
'Fuck!' The phone was slammed down and McCloughlin stepped out of his office. 'They've been through the whole house. Nothing that links him to any of the victims.'
'How about the attic? Did they search the roof cavity?' someone asked.
'Of course they fucking searched the roof cavity! They ripped her whole house apart!' His door slammed shut.
Half an hour later the team sent to the house of Sly's mum called. Again McCloughlin's face darkened with every second he was on the phone. This time he carefully replaced the handset and opened his office door with a bowed head. 'Nothing again.' He looked up and searched out Jon with an accusatory stare. 'Not a fucking scrap.'
In the silence a phone started to ring. Eventually someone picked it up. 'Yes. When?'
Something in the officer's voice set off an alarm in Jon's head. He glanced across as the officer cupped his hand over the mouthpiece and said to McCloughlin, 'Boss? Another body's turned up. Emily Sanderson. Looks like she's been dead for more than a day.'
Tom paced around his front room. The wall above the fireplace was covered with seven rows of seven competition entry forms. He stepped closer to the uppermost row. The entry forms of Polly Mather, Heather Rayne and Mary Walters all had red lines drawn through them. The fourth — Liz Wilson — didn't. He would have to go back to claim her when the old man wasn't there. The next two forms — those of Gabrielle Harnett and Emily Sanderson — were both scored through. Emily's name had been crossed out only yesterday. Tom reached up and removed the seventh form from the wall.
Now was time to call, the voices whispered. Now was the time for her sacrifice.
Two minutes after receiving the call, McCloughlin and three other senior officers set off for the crime scene.
As soon as their cars left the station's car park, the smokers in the incident room poured down the stairs, heading for the rear of the building. In the murmur of voices, Jon heard someone say, 'If she was killed yesterday, Sly couldn't have done it.'
Jon watched them go, resisting the urge to follow. He popped a stick of gum in his mouth. Balling up the wrapper, he trotted down the stairs and asked the custody officer to let him into Sly's cell.
'No need.' He nodded to a side room with an officer standing outside. 'He's in there with his solicitor.'
Jon knocked on the door and stepped into the room. 'Can I have a word?'
Sly just stared back, but his solicitor nodded.
'We've found another body, same circumstances as all the others.' He paused to let the information sink in, then took his gamble. 'Now this isn't the viewpoint of my senior officers but, as far as I'm concerned, this puts you clear of the murders.'
'Too fucking right.' Sly sat forward and jabbed a finger at Jon. 'I said you're not fitting me up.'
The solicitor held up a hand. 'So what exactly will you be charging my client with?'
Jon looked at him. 'He's still up to his neck in other shit, but that's open to negotiation. I believe he's somehow linked to the murders. So he can help us now and save himself a load of hassle.' He looked Sly directly in the eyes. 'Where did you get that chewing gum from?'
Sly looked at his solicitor, who nodded at him. 'Some bloke's garage over in Didsbury.'
'Address?'
'I don't know. I could drive to it, but I don't know what the name of the road is.'
'So if I took you in a car, you could point it out?'
Sly nodded.
Jon left the room and went over to the custody officer's desk. As he phoned the top floor, he placed a pair of handcuffs in his pocket. 'Can you put me through to Sergeant Darcourt? It's Jon Spicer. I'm down in the cells.'
The phone clicked. 'Jon, what's up?'
'Nobby, I need a hand driving a suspect over to a property in Didsbury. Are you up for it?'
'If it gets me out of this miserable room, yes.'
George watched as Tom, dressed in a suit and carrying a briefcase, left the house and walked off down the road. Where was he going each day? As he reached the end of the street and disappeared round the corner, the door of a car parked further along opened and Charlotte got out. George's breath caught in his throat as she hurried up the driveway.
She had unlocked the front door and almost closed it behind her when he began to knock. Looking terrified, she peeped through the crack. Seeing him, her features relaxed slightly. 'Not today, thanks.'
'Charlotte Benwell?' he asked almost apologetically.
'Yes.'
'Could I come in, please? I really need to discuss something with you.'
'Who are you?'
'My name is Austen Rogers,' George replied. 'I work for Xtreme chewing gum. We're a client of It's A Wrap.'
'You just missed my husband. He's gone out.'
'I need to speak with you.'
'I'm sorry, but now really isn't a good time. I've only popped in to get a few things-'
Interrupting her, George said, 'I've been trying to get hold of you. I believe your husband is defrauding our company.'
'You mean all that chewing gum? It's in the garage. Take it.' 'No, no,' George answered, hiding his surprise. 'There's more to it than that. I think he's preparing to defraud you, too.' George looked down. 'It's to do with your separation.'
'Defraud me? How? You mean over the house, don't you?'
'This is really very awkward. Could I at least explain inside?'
Nervously, Charlotte glanced down the street. 'It's got to be quick, all right?' She opened the door and turned round. 'We can talk in the kitchen.'
She stepped past the living room without looking in. As soon as the door clicked shut behind him the blood surged in George's head and he found himself lunging at her, mouth open in an ugly, silent grimace.
His thick arms began to close around her head and she ducked instinctively. Twisting free of his grip, she ran into the kitchen and raced around the other side of the table, heading for the rack of knives in the corner.