When Evil Wins Page 14

  After the police interview at his flat Janus felt the need to leave Leigh and go to Richard's house but there was no point. The police had told him the house had been destroyed by the explosion; Janus was at a loss.

  Not another bloody tragedy, he thought. Janus hoped that the whole family had gone away for a short break whilst R.J. Publishing was closed.

  He tried Richard's mobile once again, with the same result; the voice mail accepted his call. The whole situation was very bad.

  Janus wandered back into his kitchenette to make yet another cup of coffee; this was something he did often when he needed to concentrate. After he had made his drink he went back to his sofa and sat down to contemplate what he should do next. He decided it was time to make another attempt to contact his spirit guide and hopefully Conan Doyle's spirit. Janus knew that during Conan Doyle's lifetime he’d solved real crimes as well as the crimes his most famous literary creation had solved. Janus smiled at the irony; there was he, the most unqualified earthly detective, whose guide was from the nineteenth century. A Victorian assistant for his twenty first century problems!

  Perhaps, if he could make contact directly with the spirit of Conan Doyle or through his spirit guide, he could illicit some direction as to how to go about an investigation into Mandy's death first; then address the explosion at the Jameson's house and after that he was certain he would be able to resolve all the questions he needed answers to.

  Suddenly Janus dropped his cup of coffee, the mug smashing on the floor spilling its contents, all his strength leaving him as the enormity of the last thought hit home.

  The explosion at the Jameson’s house, he thought. He leant forward on the sofa covering his face with both hands, shutting his eyes; his feet in the hot puddle that was now his coffee; attempting to make sense of everything, oblivious to the burning heat of the liquid.

  Quickly, unspoken questions fired through his head, one after another, as if shot from an automatic pistol that was pointing directly at him. What was going on? Why couldn’t he reach Richard? Where was Richard? Why was Mandy dead? What had been the real cause of Liz’s car crash? Janus struggled to understand each and every one.

  He felt the weight of depression on his shoulders again, his life was going downhill fast and not only that, so was the life of his friend and mentor.

  Liz, Mandy, and the Jameson's house; Janus was now truly convinced that the incidents were not down to a cruel turn of fate, they couldn't be. Each and every one of them affected Jameson publishing in one way or another. The whole slew of events had to be premeditated. Coincidences, however bad, were never this focused.

  Janus sat back in his sofa sighing heavily; his eyes still closed.

  “If you carry on publishing work of this kind expect an accident within your family.”

  His eyes snapped open as, again, the memory of the note Richard had received in the restaurant came flooding back with an uncontrolled immediacy.

  Janus's brow furrowed as a different light as to who the note was intended for suddenly struck him. Could it be that the note had been intended for him and not Richard? He didn't have any family left, but Richard had always said that he was part of the family; as Richard had stated so clearly to all those at the anniversary party.

  Janus wondered who the target was, was it him, or Richard? There was no way to tell for definite but the likelihood that it was him was beginning to crystallise in his thoughts; becoming more evident. One thing was for sure, though, he would have to be the one to get to the truth behind all that had happened so far.

  As this thoughts clarified in his mind the depressive weight of the situation began to lift ever so slightly. He would find out what was going on and would put more effort into discovering what was behind it all. He could not let things drift anymore. Janus was certain it was unlikely the police would make any links between the incidents, particularly if his gut feeling about the Superintendent’s role was correct.

  Chapter Thirty-two

  Janus felt slightly renewed, the lethargy of the last few days, a self-inflicted lethargy at that, was being shed. He rebuked himself for not being more decisive earlier on. He now knew, more than ever before, that he was going to have to take action in order to interrupt the heinous cycle of events.

  Instead of pushing the note from the restaurant to the back of his mind he deliberately recalled it: ‘If you carry on publishing work of this kind expect an accident within your family.’

  It was no longer going to be a brick wall preventing him from getting out of the awful situation he’d been unwittingly inserted into; but now it would serve as an incentive to find out what was going on and stop, once and for all, the whole macabre saga.

  He had written the book about Mark Royce, with all its history and Richard had published it. If anything both of them had to expect retribution, if the note was anything to go by; for what reason he did not know. Why them? Another unanswerable question.

  Janus hoped he could figure out the reasons before any other incidents came crashing in to his and Richard Jameson's life. He still didn't know whether Richard and his family were in the house when it went up, but that could wait as his instinct was telling him that Richard was elsewhere.

  All he had to do now was concentrate on discovering the links between all that had happened.

  Back to my spirit guide, he thought, and as it crossed his mind an almost debilitating melancholy struck him once more. He was fairly certain, after his last contact, that this tack would not deliver the information he was after.

  Janus walked slowly into his around his flat closing the blinds; then walking to his radio finally turned it on and de-tuned it then made his way back to his sofa.

  He sat down; concentrating on the hiss of the static. Zzzzzzzzzzzzsshhhhhh.

  “My guide will you answer me at this time?” Janus mentally questioned.

  “Yes I will.” The reply was immediate; the static being manipulated once more, with clear words sliding out from the hiss.

  “My guide, on my plane great problems still present themselves. I request your help again.”

  “Janus, where I can help you, you know I will. What is it you want?”

  “I need guidance; I need to know how to seek the truth of my friend's demise. Can you help me discover what happened to Mandy?”

  “Janus, as your guide I have helped you in many endeavours before, ones that have involved entities in my plane. You know I can help you in this.”

  The uncontrolled static hiss returned once again. Janus felt crest fallen, it really seemed he was going to be alone in his attempts to discover the truth behind Mandy's death. Then, to his surprise, the crackling static became words as his guide carried on. “But there is a spirit that understands your need, an entity who wants to help you. This entity is willing to give you guidance through me. What is it you ask?”

  “My guide of all guides, please thank the entity for this offer of help.”

  “Janus?” The voice was different and questioning. Janus realised he was no longer in communication with his guide, it was another spirit. This was the first time he had experienced contact with a different spirit without channelling through his guide.

  “Yes,” Janus thought.

  “I will help you where I can but I do not know all. Ask me what you will and I shall try to answer.”

  “With whom am I in contact with now?” Janus knew the answer he wanted to hear, but he had to be sure.

  “I am Conan Doyle.” The spirit confirmed to Janus’s relief. He didn't wait to continue his questions about the recent incidents; he was satisfied with the answer.

  “How do I learn about Mandy’s death? Can you tell me what happened?”

  “I cannot tell you why your friend died but you, as the detective of this case, must endeavour to use and understand the knowledge you gain, and discover its meaning, when you find it. I shall assist you where I can, and when I can. But first you must seek out the chain of events which led to the death of your
friend; and in doing so certain facts will become apparent, use these facts to deduce the circumstances which led up to, and came after the event. In this way you will attain clarity beyond that of the police.”

  Undifferentiated crackling started once more and Janus opened his eyes knowing that that final statement was the end of the contact. He was back in his room, blinds drawn, with the un-tuned radio continuing its random hissing.

  Janus reached over the arm of his sofa and turned the radio off, frowning. His mind ached as he attempted to understand what, exactly, he had been told.

  He leant back into his sofa trying to relax, attempting to let his mind wander. Gradually the spirit's instruction began to make some sense. He should probably re-run all the events that had happened during the course of the twenty-fifth anniversary party; and at least see where Mandy's leap from the roof took place. Janus had already been to the R.J.P. office building in an attempt to try and recollect everything that had happened. But he hadn't gone onto the roof though, the place where Mandy had thrown herself from. If this wasn't the way forward then he didn't know what was. As there was no other avenue he could follow he would go back to R.J.P. and this time, take into consideration the roof.

  Janus looked at his watch, it was just gone midday, he would have plenty of time to get to R.J. Publishing and then have a quick scout around the roof whilst there was still daylight.

  Janus got ready and not wanting to delay his journey he called a cab to take him to the station.

  He arrived at Richard's offices a little after three o’clock. The building was still shut up but this didn't hinder him; as he had done previously he used his keys to gain access through the building’s side entrance.

  It was still dark and cold, and lifeless. It made him shudder even on this second visit. He moved through the darkened building and after leaving the lift on the third floor, he made his way to a secondary lift, one which stopped at the floor below the roof. He left the lift and walked up the short staircase to the rooftop.

  At the top of the staircase he pushed open the heavy fire doors and made his way out onto the building's roof. There was not much to see, just the lift housing and the bulky casing that contained the fans and other parts of the building's air conditioning system.

  Janus walked to the front of the office block and leant over the edge, carefully observing the drop to the pavement. This is where Mandy threw herself from, he thought to himself. Taking a step back he looked around the rest of the rooftop. There must be something here, he cajoled himself. He looked around again, trying to see what he felt he must see.

  The advice he had been proffered by the spirit of Conan Doyle; to seek out the chain of events, rang through his mind as he recalled his earlier contact with Doyle's spirit.

  Janus continued to scout around the rooftop. There wasn't anything unusual that he could see; there was the lift housing and there were the air conditioning units, nothing more. A typical rooftop and that was that. Janus looked towards the sky, what am I meant to see? His mind questioned angrily. He felt the whole trip had been pointless, he was not the police, and he was certainly not a detective. He sat himself down on one of the fan casings, troubled. How he was going to find anything that indicated a real reason for Mandy's death he did not know.

  As he stared at his feet a gentle fluttering in the corner of his eye caught his attention. He turned towards the source of the movement and stared intently, focusing his eyes, trying to see that which he had glimpsed. Wedged between the roof's top and one of the ventilation system's struts was a piece of paper flapping gently in the late afternoon's light wind; it was mixed up with some sweet wrappers and crisp packets.

  He stood and made his way to the flapping piece of paper. Bending over he picked it up; as soon as he touched the crumpled paper a blinding white flash went off in his mind's eye; his psychometric ability kicking in without it ever having been summoned.

  ***

  Janus was standing in the doorway, at the top of the short stairway to the roof, looking at the silhouette of a young woman in profile. She had finished reading a note and was starting to screw it up into a ball when two arms came from behind the air conditioning unit's casing.

  The young woman's chest jolted forward and as her body was violently propelled over the roof's edge she dropped the piece paper; the evening’s wind catching it.

  ***

  Janus staggered, recoiling from the force of the vision. It was rare for him to have psychic flashes of such intensity, although he'd had a few, but none had ever been as strong as this.

  He unfurled the paper reading the words in the diminishing sunlight that bled between the city's tall buildings, shining light on to the rooftop of the R.J.P. office block; a building which was dwarfed by the others that surrounded it.

  ‘Meet me on the roof at midnight. G.S.,’ the note said. That was it.

  Janus was now in no doubt that Mandy had been lured to the roof and this fact alone meant his intuition had been correct. She had not committed suicide as the police would have everyone believe. She had been murdered.

  Janus left R.J. Publishing with the note he’d found. His energy was drained, and questions as to why the police hadn't found the note were circulating in his head.

  Admittedly it had been some distance from the roof's edge. But that wasn't an excuse; they should have been more thorough. Perhaps they were under pressure, how could he know for sure? All he had was his intuition.

  He left the building and made his way through the London tube system and then on to the main line back home all the while trying to associate the different incidents with one another.

  One thing was certain though, the next morning he would travel back to London and take the note directly to Superintendent Harris. Janus was sure the note would make the Superintendent view Mandy's death in a completely different light.

  Chapter Thirty-three

  The aircraft landed at Edinburgh Airport at 11.05 a.m. It was only five minutes later than expected, Richard noted. Within thirty minutes they’d disembarked and were standing in the baggage collection area waiting for their suitcases to come around on the conveyer.

  A few short minutes later Richard spotted their luggage and removed it from the belt placing the cases quickly on to the baggage trolley he’d picked up on the way to the airport's exit.

  Leaving the airport building Richard and Liz got into one of the waiting taxis.

  “Where is it you want to go?” the taxi driver asked.

  “The Sheraton Grand Hotel please,” Richard replied.

  “Are you here to take in the history of our famous city?” the taxi driver asked in a friendly manner.

  “Unfortunately, not this time,” Richard said. “It's just a short business trip.”

  “Oh. That's a shame,” the driver said. “Do I detect a southern English accent?”

  “Yes you do,” Richard said curtly, hoping to cut short any further small talk. He had a lot on his mind and discussing the ins and outs of what Edinburgh had to offer for tourists was not at the top of his priority list at the moment. He just wanted to get to their hotel, unpack and then make his way to the restaurant, which had been booked for a meal and a meeting with Midlothian Council's Head of Economic Development.

  His answer to the cabby’s question had the desired effect and the final leg of the journey carried on in silence allowing Richard to think about everything that needed to be done during the few days he and his wife had in Edinburgh.

  Within forty-five minutes the cab stopped in the taxi rank outside the hotel. The driver unloaded their luggage from the cab and Richard paid him over and above the amount the cab's clock was indicating

  “Thank you very much sir,” the cab driver said after a moment’s pause to calculate the tip he’d just been given.

  Richard and Liz wheeled their suitcases across the paved plaza that led up to the hotel's front. Stopping just before the steps up to the entrance Richard and his wife looked at the building's ma
ssive and pristine façade.

  “This is amazing Richard,” his wife said, appreciating the hotel's presentation.

  “I think I can agree with you on that,” Richard replied, more than happy with the way the hotel looked from the outside.

  Before they got any nearer the steps the hotel's concierge appeared and greeted the couple. “Welcome to the Hotel Sheraton and Spa. I take it you have a room booked here?”

  “Yes we do,” Richard responded.

  “May I take your luggage Mr…?”

  “Mr and Mrs Jameson, and yes, please take our luggage.” Liz and Richard followed the concierge up the steps and across the hotel's plush Victorian lobby to the reception.

  Liz gasped at the lobby; this was certainly the best hotel she’d ever stayed in, out of all the hotels she had frequented as part of the business trips she and her husband had been on.

  “This is Mr and Mrs Jameson.” The concierge introduced the two new arrivals to the receptionist.

  “I believe we have a room booked,” Richard said.

  “Yes, you have one of the grand bedrooms booked,” the receptionist confirmed. “Is it three nights you are staying for?”

  “Three nights, no problems prevailing, after that it may be more.”

  “If it's more and you can let me know in advance, we'll try not to move you from the room you have,” the receptionist informed Richard.

  “Thank you,” Richard said, more than appreciating the professionalism of the hotel’s staff.

  “Have you stayed here before?” the receptionist asked.

  “No we haven't,” Richard replied.

  “Could you please fill out this form then?” the receptionist asked. “We only require your home address and a signature. If you'd been here before this wouldn't matter.”

  “That's no problem,” Richard answered, taking the form from the receptionist; Jessica he noted from her name badge, and after he had completed the form he handed it back to her.

  “Would you like someone to help you to your room with your luggage?”