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“I was looking for you yesterday afternoon. Where did you get it?”
“Anei.”
“Where did she get it?”
“She cultivates them in her conservatory. Has quite a few of them.”
He’d suspected as much. The hole was deepening. The questions piling up. Was it Anei? An even more disturbing thought was, ‘how would Jacqueline feel?’ She’d admired her aunt in much the same manner he had his father. But it could very well be one of them. What then?
Gardener’s mobile rang.
“Boss?”
“Found anything?”
“Information. Get yourself ready, I’ll pick you up in ten minutes. I’m taking you into the city centre, to the Dark Arches. You’re looking for a man they call ‘The Bear’. From what I’ve gathered, you can’t get to Bob Crisp without him.”
“Is that where he is? The Dark Arches?”
“I doubt it. But it’s as good a place as any to start. Get the grubbiest clothes you can find, and I’ll see you soon.” Reilly broke the connection.
Gardener thought back to the day they’d met Bob Crisp, near the kiosk on the grounds of the church. If the vagrant had been shadowed by The Bear, neither he nor Reilly had noticed. He abhorred filth, vagrants, and anything else connected to them. Tonight, he was not only going to have to imitate one, but mix with them as well. He then thought of Chris, and why he had to do it.
Gardener left the kitchen and entered the garage through the connecting door. His work clothes were where he had left them after working on the bike, in a heap near the discarded dustsheet.
Back in the kitchen, he threw them in the tumble dryer to warm.
R
eilly arrived quicker than he said he would. Gardener changed clothes, surprised that a mixture of odours, paraffin, oil, and sweat still remained despite a tumble dryer sheet.
“How’s the search going?”
“Usual stuff. Briggs had officers at the school, he’s spoken to everyone he can think of. In fact, he’s set up a special unit to work twenty-four hours on the case. He’s using the press for an appeal.”
Gardener was touched by his superior officer’s actions. “It won’t get that far. Come hell or high water, I’ll find my son before Christmas.”
“I like your spirit, my friend. And you’re not on your own. We’ll find your son,” Reilly said.
“Dad, I’m going,” Gardener said to Malcolm as he entered the kitchen.
“Dressed like that?”
“It’s a long story.” Gardener paused. “Look, I’m sorry about what I said. Thanks for what you’re doing.”
“You’re welcome, son. Whatever you’re doing, I don’t think I’m going to like the idea, so I won’t ask. For God’s sake, be careful!”
“I will.”
As Gardener and Reilly were about to leave, Malcolm interrupted them. “I almost forgot.”
He walked into the living room, returning with a small parcel. “It came earlier.”
Gardener recognized Colin Sharp’s writing. He stared at it for several moments, weighing the choices he faced. Could he afford to be distracted right now?
“Do me a favour. Keep it safe. I haven’t time to read it.”
Chapter Sixty-six
