Kevin Brooks - Dance of Ghosts

And although the police had questioned me at the time about Viner’s disappearance, they’d never seriously suspected me. There was a witness, a young man walking home from the nearby party that night, who’d thought he remembered seeing two men getting into a car, one of whom could possibly have been Anton Viner … but this young man had been drinking and smoking dope all night, and he couldn’t be absolutely sure about anything … and so nothing had ever come of it.

I drained my glass, poured myself another, and lit another cigarette.

I couldn’t think of any reason why anyone would suddenly want to link me with Viner.

And now that I’d had a couple of stiff drinks, I wasn’t even sure why I was thinking about it anyway. Everything seemed too circular , too mixed up, too complicated to think about — Stacy, Viner … Viner, me … Anna, Stacy, me, Viner, Anna, me …

And Bishop.

‘Shit,’ I muttered. ‘Fuck it.’

I picked up the phone and called the office.

Ada answered, ‘John Craine Investigations,’ sounding as grumpy as ever.

‘It’s me,’ I said. ‘Listen, something’s come up …’

I told her everything that Bishop had told me about Anna Gerrish and Anton Viner, and then I went on to explain that the police were going to announce all this in a televised press conference at two o’clock.

‘Which means,’ I said, glancing at the clock, ‘that in about half an hour’s time, the media are going to start looking for me.’

‘Where are you now?’ Ada asked.

‘At home.’

‘Are you still working that insurance case?’

‘I was this morning, yeah, but I think it’s best if I leave it for now. Could you call Mercer and let them know?’

‘Yeah, OK. But what are you going to do? The media are bound to find out where you live, so if you don’t want to talk to them — ’

‘I’ll see how I feel. I might stay here, I might not. They’ll probably try the office first though, so the easiest thing for you to do is unplug the phone, lock up the office, and go home. If anyone from the media gets in touch with you, don’t say anything. And if I need to speak to you, I’ll use your mobile. OK?’

‘Yeah … how long do you think this is going to last, John?’

‘I don’t know. Hopefully it’ll all be over by the start of next week and we can get back to normality again. But let’s just see how it goes over the weekend, all right?’

Ada sighed. ‘I don’t understand any of this, John. If Viner’s a serial killer, what’s he been doing for the last seventeen years? And why’s he suddenly come back here and started killing again?’

‘I don’t know …’

‘It doesn’t make sense.’

‘I know.’

‘And it’s not fair either … for you, I mean.’

‘Nothing’s fair , Ada,’ I said. ‘It’s just the way it is.’

I poured myself another drink, turned on the television, and tuned in to Sky News. Adverts were showing. I muted the TV and went to the bathroom. When I came back, just as I was sitting down again, there was a knock at the door.

‘John?’ I heard Bridget saying. ‘Are you there?’

I got up, went over to the door, and opened it. She’d put on a coat and was holding Walter’s lead in her hand. Walter was sitting beside her.

‘I’m just taking him out for a walk,’ she said. ‘I wondered if you wanted to come with us …’

‘I can’t at the moment — ’

‘That’s all right,’ Bridget said quickly. ‘I just thought I’d ask — ’

‘Can you come in for a minute?’ I said.

She looked at me for a second or two, then nodded. ‘I’ll just put Walter back — ’

‘No, he’s all right,’ I said, stepping back to let them both in.

‘Are you sure?’

‘Yeah, of course.’

As I showed Bridget into the front room, Walter padded across the floor, making a beeline for the settee.

‘No, Walter — ’ Bridget started to say.

‘It’s all right,’ I told her. ‘I don’t mind.’

Walter clambered onto the settee, sighed, and sank down comfortably with his head on his feet. Bridget went over and sat down beside him.

‘Are you all right?’ she asked me, glancing at the whisky bottle as she took off her coat and hat.

‘Yeah …’ I said, checking the TV as I sat down in the armchair. The weather was on. I looked back at Bridget. ‘Sorry … I’m waiting for something … on the news. It might affect you.’

She frowned. ‘What are you talking about, John?’

‘Sorry,’ I said, smiling at her. ‘I’m not being very clear, am I?’

‘Not really, no.’

‘OK, what it is … the man who was here earlier, Mick Bishop, he’s a police officer. And the reason — ’

‘There he is,’ Bridget said suddenly, pointing at the TV. ‘That’s him, isn’t it?’

On the screen, Bishop and two other men were shuffling their way onto a small wooden stage where a table and three chairs had been set up. There were microphones on the table. A jug of water, three glasses. On a hastily erected screen behind the table it said: Essex Police: Working for OUR Community .

‘What’s going on?’ Bridget said.

‘Sorry,’ I told her, turning up the volume. ‘I need to listen to this.’

The three men had sat down and the one in the middle was just beginning to speak. He introduced himself first, Chief Constable Stewart Wright, then he presented the man on his left, Detective Chief Superintendent Gerald James, and finally he introduced Detective Chief Inspector Bishop, described as being the officer in charge of the day-to-day investigation. DCS James then took over, stating simply that Anna Gerrish had been reported missing on 6 September and that her body had been discovered in a lay-by on Great Hey Road on Friday 8 October.

‘At this stage in our enquiries,’ DCS James explained, ‘the cause of death is believed to be multiple stab wounds.’

I could sense Bridget glancing over at me now and then as the press conference went on, but I didn’t look back at her. I just kept my eyes on the screen and listened as James announced that following forensic analysis of crime-scene evidence, a comprehensive link had been established between the murder of Anna Gerrish and the murder of Stacy Craine in 1993.

‘As some of you may remember,’ James continued, ‘the prime suspect in Stacy Craine’s murder was Anton Viner, a convicted rapist who went missing shortly after the crime was committed. Despite an ongoing and exhaustive search by both national and international authorities, Anton Viner has still not been found.’ James looked up from his notes and stared directly into the camera. ‘However, we now have very strong evidence linking Anton Viner with the death of Ms Gerrish, and we’re making a fresh appeal to anyone with any knowledge of this man’s whereabouts to contact us immediately.’

As James held up an A4-sized mugshot of Viner and explained that photographs and further information would be made available to the media after the conference, I kept my eyes on Bishop. He wasn’t looking at the photo that James was holding up, nor was he looking around at the audience, or into the camera … in fact, he didn’t seem to be looking at anything at all. He was just sitting there, stone-faced, staring blindly straight ahead.

But then, as DCS James announced that DCI Bishop would be happy to answer any questions, Bishop suddenly came to life — raising his head slightly, looking around, taking control … a picture of calm efficiency.

The questions came thick and fast.

Are you treating Viner as a serial killer?

Has he killed more than twice?

Was Anna Gerrish sexually assaulted?

Is it true that she worked as a prostitute?