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Gardener took a handkerchief out of his pocket, clasping the syringe with it before stepping back into the grotto.
Clayton lay motionless, slowly dissolving. Gardener heard popping and bubbling sounds as the compound within tore him apart. The first aid man had given up. His expression was a mixture of panic and sorrow. Andy Farlow stood by the entrance, talking to an assistant, who was trying his best not to stare.
“Stewart?”
He turned. “Jacqueline?” He guided her towards the middle of the store. “I wouldn’t go in there if I were you.”
“Too late. I’ve already seen it. The poor man. What happened?” Jacqueline’s eyes were as wide as saucers. “What’s happened to you?”
“A long story, as always.” He showed her the syringe. “I was too late again. What are you doing here?”
“I’ve brought my aunt for a little shopping spree, but I seem to have lost her.” The minister stared wildly around the store. Gardener noticed the medical team running down the centre aisle, followed closely by Reilly and a couple of constables.
“Don’t worry, we’ll find her. I need you to go over to the front doors of the store. Eventually we’ll get round to taking a statement from you both.”
“Of course.” She touched his arm and smiled.
Chapter Fifty-eight
Gardener relived the horror of the episode as Reilly drove. They were on their way to Gardener’s home before going to see Fitz. He needed to change his clothes. “I’ve never seen anything like it, Sean.” He stared straight ahead, unable to focus on anything but the incident.
“He disintegrated in front of me.”
The vivid recreation of Clayton’s dissolving body refused to leave his memory. Gardener recalled his frozen expression, the terror in the man’s eyes moments before they left their sockets. As if he knew what was coming, yet still searched for a way to prevent it. His white-knuckle grip on Gardener’s jacket. The scream that had set Gardener’s nerves jangling. The smell.
“Any news on the syringe from Myers’ flat?” Reilly asked.
Gardener gazed at the syringe. In the car, the vile, cloying odour felt stronger. “Not yet. But that one may have been filled with curare. This one can’t be.”
“Why the change of method?” Reilly asked as he negotiated a busy city centre roundabout, choosing the exit that would eventually lead to Churchaven.
“Whoever’s responsible, they have some nerve. It’s one thing to kill a person in the comfort of his own home when you know you’re not going to be disturbed. Or on the grounds of a church late at night. But to do it in a store full of shoppers, mid-morning...”
“Seems obvious to me Summers is our man. He’s the only one we know connected to all four murders. He’s the only one who knew where Harry was going to be. He has an answer for everything we throw at him.”
“Apart from the porn.” Gardener’s brow creased. “I’d say he is too defensive when you mention porn and his film company in the same breath.”
“I’ve noticed.”
“Having said that, he surprised me on Saturday. When I mentioned the DVD of the Santas, he immediately resigned his books and told us about Clayton. If you were involved, surely you wouldn’t be so cooperative.”
Reilly stopped for a traffic light. “Unless he’d engineered the whole thing. Let’s face it, he knew all four of them. He doesn’t much care about their deaths. He keeps packets of syringes, supposedly for medical reasons. Perhaps the reason he told us was because it wouldn’t make a blind bit of difference. Whatever Clayton knew, he would take it to his grave. Summers would get to him before we could.”
Gardener thought it was good enough, but he had not actually seen him in the store. Although he had not read all the witness statements before leaving, he did ask for a list of names and addresses they had collected until that point. Summers was not on that list. Which, admittedly, didn’t mean much.
“Have you seen Colin Sharp?” Gardener asked Reilly.
“Not since you gave him his project.”
“I need to pin him down. If we’re going to learn anything about Summers, we need to find out what Sharp has. What does bother me is that although there’s no one else in the frame, I’m not entirely convinced it is Summers.”
“The curare?”
“And whatever’s in here.” Gardener lifted the syringe.
“There might be more than one. Summers may not have the knowledge, but what about his butler?”
Gardener rolled his eyes and shook his head. “It’s possible. The real brains behind it could be Jeeves, or whatever his name is. Summers would have the ability and the strength, the butler supplies the knowledge.”
