Page 88 of The Chapel of Bones

Before he could finish his sentence, a call came in from Traffic. The vehicle in question had been spotted on the main road leading to East Burrington.

On their way out, Wesley stopped next to the patrol car parked outside the gates. The pair of officers inside looked bored. He suspected they’d been hoping for some action and had been disappointed by having to trail round after CID as they made routine enquiries. When he told them where they were headed next, they nodded as though they were resigned to anotherfruitless journey. Wesley understood their frustration. He’d been starting to feel like that himself. But now he knew they were on the right track, and he felt uncomfortable about Jim Baker’s cut-off call.

‘Right then, Wes. Put your foot down.’ It seemed that Gerry had read his thoughts.

Wesley was normally a careful driver, but he pressed the accelerator, wishing Rachel was driving; being brought up locally, she knew the twists and turns of every lane and byway. But today the responsibility was his and his alone.

When they arrived at Baker’s bungalow, there was no sign of life. The little zoo opposite looked equally lifeless now that it had been emptied of its animal residents and sealed off with police tape, which was flapping in the breeze. There was no sign of a vehicle parked outside, but if, as they suspected, Baker was in danger, the killer might have parked elsewhere to avoid any cameras in the area. Unfortunately for the police, he seemed to be aware of these things.

Wesley rushed to the front door and Gerry followed, his phone at the ready in case backup was needed. There was no sign yet of the patrol car that was supposed to be following them. Either they’d decided to grab a sneaky break or they’d got lost.

When Wesley placed a hand on the front door, it opened silently. Someone hadn’t bothered to close it. His heart began to beat faster. Something was wrong; he could sense it in the silence. He turned to Gerry and nodded. He’d take the front room and Gerry would head for the kitchen. The internal doors were all shut, and they burst them open, hoping to surprise whoever was in there. But the place was empty, even the two bedrooms, still in the state Baker’s grandmother had left them in, with candlewick bedspreads and faded floral wallpaper. In the front room, the unfinished oil painting of a fantastic creature, half lion, half bird, stood on the easel in the centre ofthe floor. A paint-loaded brush had been placed beneath it, as though the artist had left his work to slip out for a few moments.

‘He’s not here. What do we do now?’ Gerry asked.

Wesley thought for a few moments, trying to put himself in the place of the murderer. Where would he go? Where would he take the last witness who could give evidence against him? There was only one answer to that question. He’d take him back to the place where it had all begun.

49

Wesley and Gerry used Gerry’s notorious set of skeleton keys to gain access. Jon probably had his own, given him by his father many years ago and kept during his years abroad and beyond. And he knew every entrance and exit where he could sneak in unobserved, just as he’d done when he’d killed Dale.

Wesley’s first thought as they stood at the main entrance was that the zoo had a sad and deserted look. The animals were gone, leaving only an unpleasant smell behind. The place was silent, and for a while he feared they might have got the whole thing wrong.

But his moment of self-doubt ended abruptly when he heard a noise, a metallic clang somewhere in the distance.

‘Over there,’ said Gerry in a stage whisper, pointing to the gate that separated the entrance and office area from the cages where the animals had once lived their cramped and unnatural existence. Wesley didn’t hesitate. He pushed open the gate and was greeted with the sight of the man they’d been looking for since the discovery of Aleric Donnal’s rotting corpse.

The killer faced them, perfectly calm.

‘We’ve met before, Jon,’ said Wesley quietly. ‘Just the once, at Sycamore House. Or should we call it St Julian’s? It must have come as a shock when the new owner insisted on demolishing the wall where you’d put Dr Donnal’s body. When she employed you and Darren to deal with the leylandii, Mrs Jones had no idea that you’d lived in the house for a short time all those years ago;she didn’t know you’d killed your tutor, Dr Donnal, and your stepmother, Tina, and hidden their bodies on the premises.’

The man they’d only previously known as George Watts, the tree surgeon, looked unconcerned. ‘Prove it.’

‘We will. Where’s Jim Baker?’

‘Who?’

‘The man you met while you were living at St Julian’s. The artist you invited to move in to share the rent. Where is he?’

‘How should I know?’

‘You killed your brother, Dale.’

‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’

‘We know all about Carla. We’ve seen your father’s diary.’

The killer’s defiant grin vanished, and he flinched as though Wesley had delivered a physical blow.

Gerry took out his phone. They needed backup. But as he did so, Jon darted forward and knocked it from his hand. The DCI stumbled to the ground just as Wesley made a grab for the assailant’s arm. The other man was stronger than he was, but somehow Wesley managed to push him off balance. As soon as Gerry righted himself, he made a grab for him and held on tight as Wesley pulled his handcuffs from his jacket pocket.

Snapping the cuffs on the struggling man was like wrestling with an angry cat, and Gerry resorted to sitting on the suspect, weighing him down with his bulky body while Wesley pinned his flailing arms behind his back.

‘You’re nicked,’ said Gerry, crowing with triumph like the hero of an old-fashioned cop show. Wesley couldn’t help smiling. The DCI seemed to be in his element.

Wesley called the patrol car. Where were they? The answer came swiftly. They were outside the zoo. They’d seen Wesley’s car parked over the road and had wondered what was going on. For the sake of Gerry’s blood pressure, Wesley decided not to tell him what the officers had said. Instead he ordered them to get inthere fast. They had a suspect to take in. And they needed to find Jim Baker.

As Jon lay struggling on the ground, Wesley repeated the question. Where was Baker? But the man refused to answer. Gerry calculated that he couldn’t have taken him far, so he called the station and asked for back up.