Moon Read online

  The other man laughed. ‘Even villains need a break.’

  Robillard switched on the ignition and turned to face his companion who was settling into the passenger seat and lighting a cigarette. ‘Where to first?’ he enquired.

  Overoy consulted his watch. ‘It’s just after three, so where’s he likely to be at this time of day? In school?’

  The inspector nodded. ‘Let’s see, it’s Tuesday, so he’ll be at La Roche.’

  ‘La Roche it is then – I’ll catch him when he comes out.’

  ‘You’ll have a wait.’

  ‘Doesn’t matter, I’ve got plenty of time. Maybe I could check into a hotel first, though.’

  ‘No way. Wendy would never forgive me if I didn’t insist you stay with us overnight.’

  ‘I don’t want to put—’

  ‘You won’t. We’d be glad of your company, Ken, and you can fill us in on crime in the wicked city. Wendy’ll love it.’

  Already beginning to relax, Overoy smiled. ‘Okay. Let’s talk on the way to the school, shall we?’

  Robillard soon forsook the busy main road for the quieter shaded lanes leading to the coast. The brilliant colours of the hedgerows and the sea-freshness of the air served to relax Overoy even more. He dropped the half-smoked cigarette from the moving car and took in a deep breath through the open window.

  ‘What d’you know of Jonathan Childes?’ he asked, keeping an eye on the narrow road ahead.

  Robillard slowed the car, to allow an oncoming vehicle to squeeze past. ‘Not too much, only what we sent you in our report. He’s lived here alone for nearly three years, appears to take life fairly easy even though he’s employed by more than one college. Keeps a low profile, generally. Funnily enough, we asked the Met for information on him ourselves just a few weeks back.’

  Overoy regarded him with curiosity. ‘Oh? Why was that?’

  ‘A conseiller here who happens to be a member of our Police Committee asked us to look into Childes’ background. Name of Platnauer. He also serves on the governing board for La Roche, so presumably that’s why he was checking.’

  ‘But why now? Childes has taught at the school for some time, hasn’t he?’

  ‘Couple of years or so. I have to admit to being puzzled myself by the sudden interest in the chap. What’s he been up to, Ken?’

  ‘Don’t worry, he’s clean. Certain incidents have occurred that he may be able to give us a lead on, that’s all.’

  ‘Now I’m really curious. The information, such as it was, was given to Conseiller Platnauer who passed it on to Miss Piprelly, headmistress of La Roche, and we’ve heard nothing since. Childes’ assistance in police investigations three years ago on the mainland was documented well enough, but that was his only involvement with the law. As you were on that case, I’m surprised you weren’t contacted personally.’

  ‘There wouldn’t be any need; it’s all on record.’

  ‘So come on, tell me what this is about.’

  ‘Sorry, Geoff, can’t at the moment. It could amount to nothing and I’d hate to cause Childes any further embarrassment – I caused him enough last time.’ Overoy took out another cigarette. ‘I blew too much to the Press and they were on him like vultures on a fresh carcase.’

  ‘What is he, this feller? Some kind of clairvoyant?’

  ‘Not exactly. He’s psychic, that much we know. But he doesn’t have premonitions, or hear spirits of the dead – that sort of thing. He mentally saw where the bodies of those kids were buried three years ago and gave us enough clues about the killer for us to find him. Unfortunately, we were too late – already topped himself by the time we reached him.’

  ‘But how—?’

  ‘I’ve no idea; I don’t even pretend to understand these things. Call it telepathy, if you like. All I know is that Childes isn’t a kook of any kind – in fact, he seems to be more upset by what he can do than anyone else.’

  Overoy saw the girls college before his companion pointed it out to him. The main building, white and imposing, loomed up before them over the treetops as the police car rounded a bend, the sun striking its walls to dazzling effect. They drew up before the gates and the detective whistled as he looked down the long drive.

  ‘That’s some setting,’ he commented. Behind the tall building and its various annexes was the sea, a sparkling cobalt blue that challenged the sky itself for dominance. The lush greenery of the clifftops and surrounding woodlands provided a pleasing variation in tones, the colours of sky, sea and land blending rather than contrasting. Close to where they were parked were tennis courts fringed by lawns and flowerbeds; even the mechanical colours in the nearby car park failed to intrude.

  ‘I could happily go back to learning if it were in this place,’ said Overoy, waving cigarette smoke from his face.

  ‘You’d have to change sex first,’ Robillard replied.

  ‘I’d even do that.’

  The inspector chuckled. ‘D’you want me to take you right up to the school itself?’

  Overoy shook his head. ‘I’ll wait for Childes on the bench over there by the courts; no need to draw attention.’

  ‘Up to you. His car’s a black Mini.’ He withdrew a slip of paper from his shirt pocket. ‘Registration 27292 – I checked before I picked you up. Let’s just make sure he’s there before I leave you.’ He smoothly eased the police car through the iron gates and drew up near the car park. ‘There she is,’ he said, pointing, ‘so he’s still inside the school.’

  Overoy pushed open the passenger door and reached for his overnight bag lying on the back seat.

  ‘You can leave that there, if you like,’ Robillard told him. ‘I’ll have to pick you up later, anyway.’

  ‘Just need something,’ replied the detective, unzipping a side-pocket and delving in. He took out a plain brown envelope. ‘No need to collect me, Geoff. Hopefully Childes will invite me back to his place so we can talk and I’ll call a cab from there.’

  ‘You know our address.’

  ‘Yeah, got it.’ Overoy stood outside the car, squinting against the sunshine. He leaned back through the open window for a moment. ‘Oh, and Geoff,’ he said, ‘I’d appreciate it if you kept quiet about all this back at the station. I promised Childes I’d play it low-key.’

  ‘What would I tell anyone?’ Robillard returned, smiling. ‘Catch you later.’

  He reversed the Ford through the main gates and gave Overoy a wave as he drove off. The detective stretched his back, then tucked the envelope into the inside pocket of his jacket. He wandered towards a bench, bemoaning both the fact that he had neglected to bring sunglasses and that none of the older girls were playing tennis.

  Cars were pulling into a road on the other side of the courts and Overoy assumed the drivers were parents arriving to collect their day-girl daughters from a separate car park near the rear of the buildings. He glanced at his watch: Childes would be out soon.

  The detective’s jacket lay on the seat beside him and his shirt-sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, tie loosened around his neck. It had been peaceful to sit there in the sun with time to think for a change, and in many ways he envied his friend Robillard for the congenial atmosphere he operated in. Overoy knew, however, that attractive though the conditions appeared, they would soon frustrate someone too used to city life with all its corruption, seediness and villainy. Someone like him, who, at thirty-eight, revelled in the faster pace of city policing. Josie would love it, though, he thought, picturing his wife glorying in the relaxed way of life, the beaches, the barbecues, the freshness of the air – the fewer late-night calls for himself and less overtime. How bleak was it here in winter, though? There was the rub.

  A distant bell sounded within the college and soon girls began drifting from the various buildings, their chatter disturbing the previous quiet. It was still some time before he noticed Childes strolling towards him accompanied by a slim blonde girl in a yellow summer dress. As they walked, the girl reached around and did something at the
back of her head, releasing her hair so that it swung loose in a tail. Overoy studied her as they approached: young, lightly tanned, and very pretty. He wondered if there was a relationship between her and Childes and the briefest touch of her fingers to the man’s arm confirmed that indeed there was.

  Overoy stood as they drew near, swinging his jacket over one shoulder and sliding his other hand into his trouser pocket.

  Childes was about to enter the car park when he caught sight of the detective. He became still and the girl looked up at him in surprise. She followed his gaze and saw Overoy as the policeman started forward.

  ‘Hello, Mr Childes,’ he said. ‘You recognize me?’

  ‘You’re hard to forget,’ came the reply and Overoy understood the rancour behind it. The two men shook hands, Childes reluctantly.

  ‘Sorry to surprise you like this,’ apologized the detective, ‘but I’ve been looking into the, uh, situation we discussed over the phone a week or so ago and thought it might be appropriate to see you in person.’ He nodded at the girl, noticing her pale green eyes; close up, she was more than just very pretty.

  ‘Amy, this is Detective Inspector Overoy,’ Childes said. ‘He’s the policeman I told you about.’

  Amy shook Overoy’s hand and now there was suspicion in those eyes.

  ‘Can we talk privately?’ the detective asked, switching his attention to Childes.

  Amy immediately said, ‘I’ll call you later, Jon,’ and turned to walk away.

  ‘There’s no need—’

  ‘It’s all right,’ she assured him. ‘I’ve got things to do, so let’s talk later. Goodbye, Inspector.’ She hesitated before moving off, as if to say more, but changed her mind. She went to a red MG and glanced back at Childes with apparent concern before getting in. Childes waited until she had driven through the gates before rounding on the detective.

  ‘Surely you could have taken care of this by phone?’ he said, unable to disguise his anger.

  ‘Not really,’ Overoy replied easily. ‘You’ll understand after we’ve spoken. Could we go to your home?’

  Childes shrugged. ‘All right. Have you been assigned to this case?’ he asked as the policeman followed him to his car.

  ‘Not entirely. Let’s just say I happen to be dealing with one particular aspect of it because I’m acquainted with you.’

  ‘Then there is a connection.’

  ‘Maybe.’

  ‘But a man was murdered in the circumstances I described to you?’

  ‘We’ll talk back at your place.’

  They drove from La Roche and Overoy was surprised how quickly they reached the narrow lane in which Childes’ house stood; but then, he reasoned, the island was not many miles in length and width. The house, no more than a cottage, stood at the end of a row, and he appreciated even more Childes’ resentment at the intrusion on his domicile. The cottages had great old-world charm, the type the wealthy on the mainland paid an arm and a leg for as a second-home country retreat.

  The air was cool inside, much to Overoy’s relief, and he settled into a sofa as Childes removed his own jacket and hung it in the small hallway.

  ‘Can I get you something to drink?’ Childes asked, his tone less hostile. ‘Tea, coffee?’

  ‘Uh, a beer would be great.’

  ‘Beer it is.’

  Childes disappeared into the kitchen and soon returned carrying a six-pack and two glasses. He broke off a can and passed it and a glass to Overoy, who relished its chill after the heat of the day. He poured the beer and raised his glass to Childes in a gesture of friendliness. Childes sat in a chair opposite without acknowledging the gesture.

  ‘What do you have to tell me?’ he asked, pouring his own beer, the cans placed on a low coffee table between them as if in a neutral zone.

  ‘You may have been right about the old man,’ Overoy said, and Childes leaned forward in his seat.

  ‘You found the body?’

  The detective took a long swallow of beer, then shook his head. ‘When you told me he was strapped down to a bed – a narrow bed, if I remember correctly – and the room itself was bare of other furniture, it rang a bell with me. A report had come in that morning concerning the burning down of part of a psychiatric hospital.’

  Childes was staring across the room at him, glass poised halfway to his lips. ‘That’s it,’ he said quietly.

  ‘Well, we can’t be sure. Twenty-five people were killed in the fire, staff among them, and several were elderly male patients, mostly senile, others more seriously disturbed. One of them could have been your man, but nearly all the bodies had been so badly burned it was impossible to tell if any had been mutilated beforehand.’

  ‘How did the fire—’

  ‘It was no accident, because the experts are certain it was started in two places, somewhere on the upper floors and in the basement. Empty petrol cans were found in both locations. We’ve no idea who the arsonist was, though, but it’s generally considered that one of the inmates had been wandering around loose in the night and had discovered the cans of petrol in the basement. Those in charge of the investigation suspect the arsonist might also have perished in the blaze.’

  ‘How can they be so sure?’

  ‘They can’t. But patients and staff who survived have been questioned all this week and there’s no reason to believe any are responsible. Of course, as quite a few of the patients are total lunatics, it’s impossible to be a hundred per cent certain. Then again, it could just as easily have been an outsider.’

  Childes rested back in his chair and drank the beer, thoughts directed inwards. Overoy waited, in no rush. The distant drone of an aeroplane could be heard passing overhead.

  ‘What happens now?’ Childes said after a time.

  ‘Obviously, if there is a connection between all these crimes, then we’ll need any scrap of information we can gather to build up a picture of the madman involved. At the moment, I should tell you, nobody’s seriously considering a tie-in with the arson attack – nobody except me, that is – but there is evidence regarding the other two suggesting a link. D’you mind if I smoke?’

  Childes shook his head and Overoy took cigarettes from his jacket and lit one, using the empty beer can as an ashtray.

  ‘What kind of evidence do you have?’ asked Childes.

  ‘The similar mutilation of the prostitute and the boy’s corpse, for a start. They had all the hallmarks of a ritual defilement: organs severed and removed, the heart torn out, foreign objects placed inside the open body – in the case of the woman, junk from the room she lived in; for the boy it was mostly dirt and grass, dead flowers even. The wound itself stitched up again. Acts of a lunatic, of course, but with some crazy method.’

  ‘Then maybe it was more than one person, a sect of some kind.’

  ‘Fingerprints of only one person were found at both scenes of crime; on the boy’s coffin and on objects taken from inside the prostitute, and whoever it was didn’t give a damn about leaving prints. Naturally, with the near-gutting of the mental home no evidence was left.’

  ‘No fingerprints on the petrol cans?’

  ‘Too badly charred themselves. Tell me about the incident with the old man: what more did you see?’

  Childes looked pale. ‘I’m afraid I blacked out fairly quickly. The image was so intense, the torture . . . I couldn’t take too much.’

  ‘That’s understandable. But you’re convinced the other person was the same as before?’

  ‘Absolutely, but it’s difficult to explain why. When you’re in someone else’s mind the recognition is as easy as seeing them physically, maybe even easier – there can be no disguising.’

  ‘You mentioned you saw a large pair of hands.’

  ‘Yes, I was looking down at them as if they belonged to the person whose mind I’d reached. They were big, rough like a workman’s. Strong hands.’

  ‘Was there jewellery of any kind? Rings, a chain, a watch?’

  ‘No, nothing like that.’
>
  Overoy had been appraising the other man while they were talking, noting the weariness in his face, the tension in his movements. If he had found his peace in his years on the island, it was no longer in evidence. Overoy felt pity for Childes, but he also knew he had no choice but to press him further. The detective spoke almost soothingly. ‘Do you remember last time, how we finally traced the killer?’

  ‘He left something at the scene of the last murder.’

  ‘That’s right, a note. A note saying he would murder another child, he couldn’t help himself. A psychiatrist said at the time that the man wanted to be caught, to be stopped from committing those acts, that he’d written begging us to do just that. When we showed you that note you were able to describe the killer and give us a general idea of where he lived, how he was employed. All we had to do was check our records for known sex offenders in that area who matched the description.’

  ‘I still don’t understand how I knew.’

  ‘That’s because you ran away from it.’

  ‘Plenty of people contacted me to explain what had happened and they couldn’t understand why I wasn’t interested. The Institute for Psychical Research wanted to publish a paper on me; one or two American universities invited me to give lectures, and God knows how many people wanted me to find missing relatives for them. I didn’t know what the hell was going on inside my head and truthfully I had no desire to know. All I wanted was to be left in peace, but unfortunately that wasn’t meant to be. Have you any idea what I felt like?’

  ‘Yeah, the Elephant Man. I think you let yourself take things too seriously.’

  ‘You may be right, but I was shaken, scared. You can’t imagine what I had to witness because of this freak in me.’

  ‘But you contacted me last week, despite all that attention before.’

  Childes opened another can of beer, his glass still half-full.

  He filled it to the brim and drank. ‘I had to,’ he said at last. ‘Whoever is doing this now has to be stopped. I’m praying the fire did just that.’

  ‘Apart from waiting for another incident, there may be a way of finding out.’