The Eighth Witch (38 page)

“I think so,” Lacey said.

“I can hear the skepticism in your voice, Inspector. But it’s true. I think had she not met Dee in Mexico she would have come home the same old Penny.”

“Dee?”

“A woman Penny became quite close with when she was out there. Penny called her ‘my mentor’. Penny used to write to me quite regularly, and in the course of the letters you could sense the change in her. Dee worked wonders for her. Made her the woman she is now. I’ve a lot to thank her for.”

“Are they still in touch?”
 

“Sadly no. Dee passed away, just before Penny left Mexico. One of the last things Penny did there was to go to her funeral. Cancer. A horrible disease, but as Penny said, a happy release for Dee.”

“We’d really like to talk to your wife,” Lacey said. “You’re sure you have no idea where she is?”

Chapman shook his head. “How many more times do I have to tell you? She was meant to pick me up from the dentist this morning, but never showed.” He shrugged. “Typical really. She probably forgot. Got involved with something else and I just went out of her head. It isn’t a problem. Happens all the time. It’s just Penny.”

Lacey got to his feet. Sparks followed.

“Well, I think we’ve taken up enough of your time, Mr. Chapman. Thank you for being so…so forthcoming,” Sparks said.

“Perhaps you could ask your wife to call me when she returns?” Lacey handed him his card.

“No problem,” Adam Chapman said. “I hope I’ve been some help to you.”

He ushered them towards the door.

At the door Lacey hesitated. “One more thing, if you have time. The night Henry Norton was attacked, I understand you and your wife were the last people to see him. Did you go straight home after you said goodbye to him?”

“I did. Penny went for a walk to clear her head. We drank far too much wine. I got in, went to bed and crashed out. I didn’t even hear her come in. And my head in the morning… Jesus! I thought my brain was going to explode. Penny was fine though. No hangover. Perhaps I should have gone for a walk with her.”

Lacey smiled indulgently at him. “Yes, perhaps you should have, sir. Thank you again for your time.”

“Well. What do you think?” Lacey said when they got back to the car.

“He certainly didn’t appear to be hiding anything.”

“No, he didn’t, did he? But then why should he?” Lacey said. “Do you know what I think?”

“I’m sure you’re going to tell me.”

“I think that Penny Chapman went to Mexico, but Diana returned in her place. I think it was Diana attending Penny Chapman’s funeral, not the other way around.”

“Dee equals Diana, you mean? You could be onto something.”

“I’m sure I am.”

“But surely Chapman would have realized that the woman who came back to him wasn’t his wife.”

“You’d think. But then again, I’d swear blind that the woman I divorced wasn’t the same woman I married. She underwent a complete personality change in the years we were together. That’s the point, Matt, people do change, and for much of the time the changes are so small we don’t even notice. You’ve changed yourself over the past few days.”

Sparks turned to look at him. “I don’t think so.”

“But you have. A week ago could you imagine yourself giving any credence whatsoever to notions of witchcraft or shape-shifters? And now here you are, putting your career on the line to help me investigate those very things. How did you swing it, by the way, getting the time away from D.I. Phelan to help me out?”

“Pleaded a migraine,” Sparks said with a smile. “And I haven’t changed, not fundamentally. I’m still not a true believer like you. I’m only helping you so that we might reach some kind of conclusion to all this, if only to stop you banging on about it all the time.”

Lacey shook his head and laughed. He started the car. “Have it your way, Matt,” he said. “Have it your way.”

“I’ve tried calling Penny on her mobile. Nothing,” Annie said.

Carter shook his head. “Did you really expect her to answer?”

“And if she had, what would you have said to her?” Jane added.

They were sitting in the lounge. The light was draining from the sky and the gloom outside was reflected by the mood inside.

“I don’t know,” Annie said. “I just had to do something. First Laura, and now Penny. Rob, I’m losing all my dearest friends.” Her voice caught in her throat. “I don’t know how much more of this I can take.”

Both Carter and Jane were at a loss how to comfort her. The arrival of Lacey and Sparks did little to lighten the mood. The policemen told them what they had found out from Adam Chapman.

“We knew about Mexico. Annie has the letters Penny sent her when she was out there. We knew nothing of the funeral though.”

“The other interesting fact to emerge was that Penny Chapman didn’t go straight home the night Henry Norton was attacked. According to her husband, she went for a walk, apparently to clear her head after drinking too much here.”

“But she didn’t drink that much that evening,” Carter said. “Two glasses of wine, tops.”

“So she was spinning him a line,” Jane said.

“Giving her the opportunity to attack, or at least to orchestrate the attack, on Norton,” Carter said. “I’m afraid, Annie, the evidence is beginning to stack up against her.”

“But it brings us no closer to finding her, or Holly and Laura either,” Jane said.

“Well there’s nothing more we can accomplish this evening. We’re losing the light,” Carter said. “I suggest we call it a day and start again in the morning.”

“And tomorrow’s the eve of Beltane,” Jane said. “We’re running out of time.”

“Yes,” Carter said. “I’m aware of that.”

Chapter Forty-One

“You made good time,” Crozier said.

“The traffic was light. Any news?”

“It’s as if he’s vanished from the face of the planet.”

“How’s McKinley?”

“He’ll live. You’ve had plenty of time to think on your drive down, Harry. Any ideas on what our next step should be?”

They were sitting in Crozier’s flat. Through the window they could see the lights on the Thames, pleasure boats ferrying partygoers along the waterway, tugs hauling cargo barges on the still, torpid water.

“To be honest, Simon, I haven’t really got a clue. The main thought I’ve had is that Diana has contrived this business with Martin as a diversion, to pull us away from our primary focus, which is of course to find her and stop her before more innocent lives are lost.”

“Do you see that as a possibility?”

“It makes sense, and the evidence, although circumstantial, has weight. Someone sent us on that wild goose chase this morning. Florence Tibbs was no witch, and her dog no familiar. We learned nothing from her and it wasted an entire morning that we could have spent hunting for Diana. And now this. I’ve been pulled away from Yorkshire, when I should really still be up there, lending my expertise to their investigation.”

“But Diana couldn’t know that I was going to call you back down to London,” Crozier said.

“She could have made an educated guess that one of us would have to return. Either way, Martin Impey’s disappearance has muddied the waters and split the focus. Now we have two manhunts to deal with instead of just the one. Rob was right when he said he’d been thinking about this all wrong. It’s not just a local issue, not confined to Ravensbridge, the Calder Valley or even Yorkshire for that matter. Diana is striking at us here in London. God knows what she’ll be capable of should we fail and she adds the powers of two more witches to her arsenal.”

Crozier went across to his drinks cabinet and poured himself a scotch and a mineral water for Bailey. He handed the water to his friend who took it and stared at it morosely.
 

“I’d kill for one of those right now,” Bailey said, nodding towards Crozier’s drink.

“You’re no use to anyone, including yourself, drunk. Cheers.” He raised his glass.

“You’re a sadist. You know that, don’t you?”

“It’s been said before.”

“It’s nothing to be proud of.”

The telephone rang. Crozier picked it up on the second ring. He listened for a few seconds and then disconnected.

“Impey’s been spotted.”

“Where?”

“Soho. He was seen entering a lap-dancing club.”

“You are kidding,” Bailey said. “Martin Impey in a skin palace?”

“I know, it beggars belief, but when he first went missing I enlisted the Met to try to find him. They circulated his description with instructions not to approach or try to apprehend. One of the regular Soho police patrols spotted him entering the club about thirty minutes ago.”

“Best get down there then.” Bailey went across to the coat rack, grabbed his raincoat and headed for the door, leaving Crozier to gulp down the last of his whisky and catch him up.

The Platinum Chip Gentleman’s Club is situated just off Denmark Street. The upper floors house a casino while the ground floor and basement play host to the usual bumping and grinding.

“Why they call these places gentlemen’s clubs is beyond me,” Crozier said as he stepped out of his car. “Find somewhere to park and meet us inside,” he said to his driver.

The driver acknowledged the request with a small salute and drove off, leaving Crozier and Bailey standing on the pavement in front of the club. A young policeman was standing just outside the door, flanked by two tough-looking men wearing cheap black suits, sporting almost identical shaved heads. Crozier beckoned the PC over to them and flashed his ID card. “Well?” he said.

“As far as I can tell, he’s still in there, sir,” the policeman said.

“Well is he or isn’t he?” Crozier demanded.

“I haven’t seen him leave, sir.”

Crozier pushed past him and approached the two men at the door. He fished a photograph of Martin Impey from his pocket and handed it to one of the men. “This man, did you see him enter the club?”

The two of them stared at the photo. “I did,” the slightly smaller of the two said.

“Would you mind going inside and checking to see if he’s still there?”

“And if he is, tell us which floor he’s on,” Bailey added.

“Sorry, sir, I can’t leave my post.”

Crozier sighed and turned away. Bailey stepped forwards and put his arm around the doorman’s shoulder. “Look…” He peered at the man’s name badge pinned to the lapel of his polyester suit. “…Danny, is it? Do yourself a favor. We haven’t got all night and this is really important. Do as the man said or we’ll be forced to go and get a warrant to search the place. We’ll leave him…” He pointed to the young PC. “We’ll leave him here standing guard until we return. Not a great advert for your club, is it?”

Danny shrugged off Bailey’s arm. “If I do as you say, he buggers off, right?”

“He’ll vanish like the mist on a summer’s day.”

Danny thought about the offer, sniffed once and then, without another word, turned and entered the club. His partner moved to the center of the door and stood there, legs slightly apart, arms folded.

“Ah, the British at work,” Crozier said, moving back to the pavement. “A heart-warming sight.”

Danny returned five minutes later. “He’s still here, in the basement, having a private dance. He won’t thank you for interrupting him. He’s got Naomi, and my God she’s hot.”

“Thanks, Danny, you’re a star,” Bailey said. Crozier offered the man a frosty smile as they pushed past him into the club.

Once they were inside a pretty cloakroom girl, wearing an outfit that left little to the imagination, offered to check their coats. “Another time,” Crozier said. “We’re not stopping.”

A man in a much more expensive suit than the two doormen approached them from out of the shadows. He was handsome in a very Byronic way, with dark, brooding eyes and a chiseled jaw and, as he smiled at them, a diamond-set gold tooth in his upper jaw caught the light and glinted. “Gentlemen, lovely to see you but I’m afraid I don’t recognize your faces. Have you been to the Platinum Chip before? Only it is members only.”

“No, and we’re not members,” Crozier said, pulling the photograph of Martin Impey from his pocket. “And I very much doubt that this man is either.” He handed the photograph to the concierge. “And yet miraculously he’s downstairs enjoying a private dance with…” He turned to Bailey for guidance.

“Naomi. He’s having a private dance with Naomi.”

“So, be a good chap and let us through.”

The concierge shrugged and smiled, flashing his diamond tooth at them once more. “Members only, sir. I’m sorry.”

Crozier produced his ID card again. The concierge took it from him and studied it closely. “Sorry,” he said, handing back the card. “I’ve never heard of Department 18.”
 

“Well, believe me, if you don’t let us through, you’ll be hearing an awful lot about us and by God you’ll wish you hadn’t.”

For the first time uncertainty appeared in the man’s eyes. “Wait there a moment, please.” He pulled a mobile phone from his pocket and disappeared into the shadows once more.