When Wesley arrived in the incident room next morning Gerry beckoned him into his office before he had a chance to take off
his coat. There was an eager expression on the DCI’s plump face.
‘Alan Jakes has been picked up. He arrived back at his sister’s shortly after midnight and he’s being brought over from Dukesbridge
this morning.’ His mouth turned upwards in a wicked grin. ‘I’ve arranged for warrants to search his flat and his sister’s
house. He won’t be bright enough to cover his tracks so if he does turn out to be our man, we’re bound to find some evidence.’
His expression suddenly changed, as though somebody had just told him some bad news. ‘I had a call earlier to say that Analise’s
sister’s arrived at Heathrow and she’s on her way here. We’ll leave her to Rach, eh? She’s good at that sort of thing.’
Wesley nodded. Rachel was a natural with grieving relatives and yet he knew that she hated that aspect of the job:
against her better judgement, she always ended up getting emotionally involved although nobody would have guessed it from
her detached manner. But Wesley knew. And he liked her for it.
‘And Joyce rang last night. She’ll be back in a few days.’
‘You’ll be glad to see her.’
‘Aye. Our Sam’s had a clean round and put the washer on but it’s not the same. And since our Rosie’s accepted the situation
I don’t feel I’ve got to creep around any more like a guilty teenager.’ He paused. ‘I’m really missing Joyce. I never thought
I would but …’
Wesley suppressed a smile. ‘Hardly surprising. I take it we’ll interview Jakes as soon as he arrives?’ He had heard so much
about Alan Jakes that he was curious to see the man for himself.
‘Of course.’
‘Are we calling Guy in?’
‘I rang him but he’s teaching all morning. I said I’d let him know how it went and he’ll be able to listen to the tapes,’
Gerry said before disappearing into his office to wrestle with his paperwork.
There was a lot to do so Wesley returned to his desk, remembering that Robert Delaware was due to turn up later to give a
statement. Delaware was another person he wanted to see. But there was something he needed to check first.
He looked around the room and saw DC Nick Tarnaby sitting at his desk, gazing out of the window at the river below with a
faraway look in his eyes, as though he was seeing some sun-drenched tropical island in place of the dank February scene.
‘Nick, can you do me a favour?’ Tarnaby sat to attention, suddenly
defensive. ‘Can you check out this name and address please? I’ve got somebody coming in to make a statement later and I need
to be sure of my facts.’ Somehow he’d sensed Delaware had been lying about the Morbay address where he was supposed to have
met a Mr B Cooper on the night of Analise’s death.
‘I’ve got a lot to do, sir,’ Tarnaby muttered sullenly. ‘All the house to house reports from the castle area and—’
‘This shouldn’t take long. And it is important.’ He smiled expectantly. ‘If you can let me know as soon as possible. Thanks.’
He sat down at his desk before Tarnaby could raise any more objections and began to make a list on a sheet of scrap paper.
There was Delaware to eliminate from their enquiries; Delaware who knew all about the terrible murders John Varley had committed.
Then there was Geoff Dudgeon who’d been the victim’s lover and whose alibi was shaky to say the least. Clive Crest too had
a rather dubious story for the relevant time and he’d been Analise’s employer as well as the lover of Clare Mayers’s school
friend Vicky. Finally there was Alan Jakes. By all accounts he was a nasty bit of work and he might well have attacked Clare
Mayers. Also his family were local so it was possible that he’d heard the story of John Varley’s crimes at some time and decided
to emulate them.
A minute or so elapsed before Gerry emerged from his office like a bear coming out of hibernation. He had a hungry look in
his eyes. Someone was about to be eaten alive.
‘They’ve got Jakes in Interview Room One downstairs, Wes. Coming down?’
Wesley stood up.
‘And I’ve sent a couple of DCs to his place and Dukes-bridge are giving his sister’s house a going over. I’ve told
them to tear it apart – leave no mattress or cushion unturned. I don’t like men who frighten little girls.’ From the look
on the DCI’s face Wesley guessed he was going to enjoy going a few rounds with Alan Jakes. He almost felt sorry for the man.
They walked down to the interview room in silence and when they got there they found Alan Jakes seated at the table, watched
by the well-built uniformed constable who was standing guard by the door. Jakes was fidgeting with an empty polystyrene cup,
plucking pieces off it which landed like flakes of snow on the table. He looked up as the two detectives entered and gave
them a welcoming scowl.
‘How long are you going to keep me here?’ he said with a hint of self-righteousness. ‘This is against my human rights, this
is.’
Wesley sat down opposite him, switched on the tape machine and gave the suspect a businesslike smile. Alan Jakes was a good-looking
man. His hair was dark, almost black, and he had bright blue eyes and a mouth that turned up slightly at the corners, hinting
at charm. But appearances are often deceptive.
‘We’d like to ask you about your relationship with Karen Mayers and her daughter Clare.’ He leaned forward expectantly, catching
a faint whiff of Jakes’s surprisingly subtle aftershave, a little stale perhaps but then he’d been held overnight in the cells
at Dukesbridge.
‘OK. I was seeing Karen then I realised that Clare fancied me so we went to bed. It wasn’t illegal. She was over sixteen.’
‘Clare was attacked last Sunday night. She’d been to a quiz night at the Anglers’ Arms and she walked home alone. You were
at the Anglers’ Arms that night. You saw Clare there.’
‘No comment.’
Gerry had been sitting beside Wesley in silence watching Alan Jakes’s face carefully. But now he spoke. ‘Clare said she didn’t
want to see you again, didn’t she? That must have made you angry. She told us that you threatened her. She was just a silly
little girl and you’re the big man who calls the shots. You wanted to teach her a lesson, didn’t you?’
Jakes shook his head. ‘I never touched her. Is she saying I did?’
Gerry smiled sweetly. ‘No comment. We’ve got a warrant to search your place. Someone’s gone over there now.’
‘They’ll be wasting their time.’
‘Where were you on Tuesday evening?’
‘Tuesday? I’ve been staying over in Dukesbridge at my sister’s. She’s not been well.’
‘That’s very thoughtful of you,’ said Gerry. ‘Isn’t he thoughtful, Inspector Peterson? Restores your faith in human nature.
But you came over this way on Wednesday night, didn’t you? You tried to break into Clare Mayers’s house.’
Jakes pondered the question for a few moments. Wesley could almost hear cogs whirring in his head. ‘I’d heard she was accusing
me. I wanted to put her right.’
‘You scared the life out of her. She dialled 999.’
‘She’s always been a drama queen. I didn’t do nothing.’
‘OK,’ said Wesley. ‘Let’s move on. On Sunday night what did you do when you left the Anglers’ Arms?’
‘Went home.’
‘Then the next day you went to your sister’s?’
‘That’s right.’
‘And you didn’t turn up at work.’
‘I needed a break.’
Gerry began to sort through a file he’d brought with him,
witness statements from the people they’d traced who’d been in the Anglers’ Arms on the night Clare Mayers was attacked.
He took out a sheet, made a great show of reading it, then passed it to Wesley.
‘One of the barmen gave us a statement. He told us something very interesting. When he left for home at a quarter to midnight
there was a car parked next to his. An old Ford van. Dark-coloured with stickers in the window. He noticed it particularly
because his brother’s just bought a similar vehicle to do up. Everyone apart from the staff had gone home by then and he wondered
who it belonged to – it wasn’t anyone he worked with ’cause he knew all their vehicles. According to our records you own a
dark-blue Ford van don’t you, Mr Jakes? You were driving it when you were picked up in Dukesbridge. What were you doing hanging
round after the pub closed?’
‘I wasn’t. I knew I was over the limit so I got a lift home.’
‘Very law-abiding of you, Mr Jakes. Who gave you a lift?’
‘Can’t remember.’
‘We’ve got the names of most of the people who were in the pub that night so we can ask around. Are you telling us the truth
or did you follow Clare?’
Wesley watched Jakes and waited.
After what must have been a full minute of stunned silence Jakes spoke. ‘OK, I followed her. But I never touched her. Honest,
I never laid a finger on her. I just wanted to scare her … to teach her a lesson.’
Wesley glanced at Gerry. ‘Tell us what happened.’
‘I saw Clare in the pub and when I left she was having a row outside with one of her mates. She wanted her to let her into
her taxi but the mate wasn’t having any of it. She said she was going the other way. I hung back and waited until
the taxi had driven away and Clare started to walk down the lane to Hugford. I don’t know why but I started to follow her
… keeping my distance like. I thought when I got halfway down the lane I’d come up behind her and give her the fright
of her life … show her she couldn’t mess with me. I wouldn’t have hurt her …’ His voice had become a self-righteous
whine and Wesley was rather surprised that he felt a sudden urge to punch the man.
‘So what happened?’ he asked.
‘I got halfway down the lane then I saw her.’
‘It must have been dark.’
‘There was a full moon. I could see quite well. She was with somebody.’
‘Who?’
‘Dunno. I rounded this bend and there she was. I thought she was … well, sort of kissing so I shot back. I stood in a
farm gate, pushed up by the hedge so she couldn’t see me. Then I took a peep and I couldn’t believe what I saw. She was in
a clinch with this … Well, I could only make out a vague shape but it looked like he had an animal’s head but that sounds
daft, doesn’t it? I hadn’t had that much to drink and I did a double take like. Then this van came along.’
‘The driver didn’t see you.’
‘He wouldn’t have. As soon as I saw the headlights coming I went through the gate and hid behind the hedge. I was going to
wait till the van had gone but it stopped. I heard the brakes screech so I thought I’d better make myself scarce and I ran
across the field back to the main road and picked up the van at the pub. Covered in bloody mud and cow shit I was. Then I
heard that your lot were looking for the bloke who attacked her so I went to my sister’s. Thought it’d be wise to lay low
for a bit.’
‘You should have come forward.’
‘And I’d have been first on your list if you’d known I’d been there on the scene. Who’d believe that I saw a bloke with an
animal’s head? If I hadn’t seen it with my own eyes I wouldn’t have believed it myself.’
‘Vanishing like you did is hardly the act of an innocent man,’ Wesley pointed out reasonably.
Jakes’s lips formed a snarl and for a moment Wesley feared he was about to spit in his face but instead he turned his head
away.
‘So what did this animal-headed bloke with Clare look like?’
Jakes shifted in his chair and shrugged his shoulders. ‘He was a lot taller than her but I only caught a glimpse for a second
before the van came along.’
‘And you never thought of going to help her?’
‘Well, I didn’t know, did I? It could have been some sex game for all I knew.’ He gave a knowing leer. ‘I didn’t want to go
barging in, did I? I didn’t want to get involved.’
‘We know you were in Hugford on Wednesday but where were you on Tuesday night?’
‘With my sister in Dukesbridge. She’ll tell you.’
‘Do you know a girl called Analise Sonquist? She was an au pair for a family called Crest in Tradmouth.’
For the first time Jakes looked nervous. ‘Is that the girl they found up by the castle? Look, I had nothing to do with that,
I swear.’
For a few moments nobody said anything. Wesley knew that often suspects had a compelling urge to fill a silence with anything
– maybe even a confession. But when the ringing of his phone broke the tension he jumped, announced his temporary departure
for the benefit of the tape recorder
whirring at the end of the table, and hurried from the room. After half a minute he returned and resumed his seat.
‘They’ve finished searching your place. Interested in Ancient Egypt are you?’
Jakes looked uneasy. ‘Not particularly. Why?’
‘They found a model of King Tutankhamen’s death mask.’
‘So? I saw it at a car boot sale. I liked it so I bought it. Look, you can’t prove anything. You’ve got nothing on me. Charge
me or let me go.’
Gerry grunted. Wesley knew he never liked it when a suspect got the better of him. But in this case Jakes was right: without
other evidence they’d find it difficult to get the CPS to prosecute on the strength of a mass-produced Egyptian death mask.
‘You used to work in a butcher’s, I believe?’
‘That was years ago when I’d just left school.’
‘You’ve cut up animal carcasses?’
Jakes shook his head. ‘Nah. I just carried them out of the van … and I swept up and served in a shop, that sort of thing.’
Wesley had brought the Anubis figure with him, hidden in his pocket protected by a plastic evidence bag. He took it out and
put it on the table.
‘Do you recognise this figure? For the benefit of the tape I’m showing the suspect a model of Anubis.’
‘Ann who?’ Jakes picked it up, made a cursory examination then threw it down on the table again. ‘Never seen it before in
my life.’
‘So it’s nothing like the animal head on Clare’s attacker?’ He knew it was a leading question but it was worth asking.
‘Dunno.’ He picked it up again and examined it more closely. ‘Could be now you come to mention it. What is it?’
‘The Egyptian god connected with death and embalming.’