Stop Me Read online

  ‘I first made contact with you because I wanted the photo of Laura removed.’

  ‘The photo that you’d never seen before. Not curious about how I came by it?’

  It sounded to Leo like Bookwalter was trying to use any scant piece of leverage he had. ‘So, just what is in this document that you expect me to sign?’ Leo wondered if it was too thick to tear from top to bottom in front of Bookwalter’s blinking eyes.

  ‘Take it away, look it over…’

  ‘Précis it for me.’

  ‘Very well. This document allows you access to every classified level of stillonvacation.com. Not only that but it grants you exclusive admittance to my personal archive and database, as well as a small percentage of gross from the site—’

  ‘More importantly, I’m sure, what does it grant you?’

  ‘Complete immunity from prosecution by you or your representatives.’ Bookwalter fixed him with his magnified blue-grey eyes and bit down earnestly on his lip so his red moustache folded into his mouth.

  CHAPTER 21

  Leo was momentarily speechless. ‘And why would you need that?’

  ‘One less suit for me to worry about.’

  ‘So, what exactly are you planning for the future?’

  ‘Like Toby said, we’re overhauling the whole site.’

  Leo visualised the incarcerated figure shifting in the chair. ‘And you didn’t think I’d have a problem with this.’

  ‘The Vanderplows certainly didn’t.’

  The name didn’t register with Leo for a few seconds, but he had to take a sharp intake of breath when he realised who Bookwalter was referring to. Jill Vanderplow was the Vacation Killer’s second victim. She’d disappeared from Windham County, Connecticut on the 13th March 2006 and her jawbone had been mailed to the local police four days later.

  ‘Like most of the victim’s families, they actually still believe that it was Bonsignore that took their daughter, but life goes on and they still need to put food on the table. At least my site keeps Jill’s memory alive.’

  ‘They signed this?’ Leo hated the incredulity in his own voice. Bookwalter had to be lying.

  ‘They’re the only ones who have so far. I’ve had flat turndowns from the other families. The Andersons are taking advice though.’

  Estelle Anderson was the mother of two from New Hampshire who suffered the same fate. ‘They’ve given you their blessing to claim responsibility for their murders?’

  ‘I claim it regardless. I’m an inconsequential lunatic to them but why not extract something positive from one of the hundreds of sites that have become intrigued by events that were entirely beyond their control.’

  Leo found himself on his feet. ‘Fuck this.’

  ‘You won’t sign?’ It sounded like Bookwalter had something rehearsed for this eventuality but Leo wasn’t about to give him the opening.

  ‘This is beyond vile opportunism. I can’t believe I actually allowed you to lure me here.’

  Bookwalter didn’t rise though. He sat with his hand on the document wallet and focused on Leo’s midriff. ‘Don’t dismiss me.’ He said it coolly, evenly – as if Leo would regret attempting to. Leo rejected it as part of the performance. He left him on the patio and made his way back into the house. The smell of meat cooking was thick in the air and he glanced into the kitchen as he passed down the hallway. Perfecta and Toby were there and looked up from where they were serving green vegetables onto the row of plates on the breakfast counter.

  ‘You leaving us?’ Toby seemed genuinely mortified and the look on Perfecta’s face said the same.

  Leo didn’t reply, just made his way to the front door, opened it and walked out into the street. He’d seen enough. Nobody followed.

  * * *

  ‘You trying to get an outside line?’ The wavering voice of the old boy who’d carried Leo’s cases to his room cut in. It appeared he was the receptionist of Hotel L’agneau as well as the bellhop.

  ‘Yes, it’s a mobile number.’

  ‘Just press 8 and wait for the dial tone, sir.’

  ‘Thank you.’ Leo did as instructed and waited for a reply. He’d left the bathroom mid-shower and was still dripping wet with a towel around his waist. He’d already made two similar trips to the telephone but had second thoughts and hung up. Now it was ringing.

  ‘Hello,’ Bookwalter oozed.

  ‘It’s Leo.’

  ‘Hey, Leo…you left in quite a hurry.’

  ‘Apologies for that, I just needed some time to take things in. Mull them over.’ His nostrils picked up the smell of stale beer and urine wafting through the window.

  ‘Perfectly understandable.’ Bookwalter left the line static between them.

  ‘I’d like to take another look at the contract.’ Leo felt droplets running cold down his back.

  ‘Of course.’ Leo imagined Bookwalter biting his moustache ‘Swing by and you can take as long as you want.’

  ‘No. There are a few conditions before I sign and I want to address them to you and your family.’

  There was a pause. ‘Sure.’ It was the last thing he sounded.

  ‘Let me buy you all lunch tomorrow. What was the name of the place you mentioned today?’

  ‘King Crawdaddy’s but it’s really not necessary.’

  ‘I’m going to fly back tomorrow evening so I’d like to experience some authentic cooking before I leave. One o’clock sound OK?’

  ‘Appreciate that but Perfecta’s more than capable of cooking for us.’

  ‘I’m sure but I’ve already ruined one of her dinners. It would be my way of apologising.’

  Another pause. ‘OK. Can I ask – why the sudden turnaround?’

  ‘I’ve been thinking about what you said. I’m not saying I’m going to sign but I’d at least like the opportunity to look over your figures.’

  ‘I don’t think you’ll find any fault with those.’ Bookwalter’s voice became animated again but suspicion still lurked behind it.

  ‘See you all at one then?’

  ‘Wednesday is Perfecta’s shopping day and Toby had golf plans. Can we not come to an arrangement between ourselves?’

  ‘That’s the condition.’ It was Leo’s turn to let the line buzz.

  ‘OK. I don’t know why you would insist on that if there weren’t some ulterior agenda…’

  ‘They’re all involved in this. They all benefit from Laura’s disappearance. I want them to fully appreciate what it will mean for me to sign this.’

  ‘OK, they’ll be there,’ Bookwalter chimed in quickly as soon as Leo mentioned his signature.

  ‘One o’clock tomorrow then. I’ll make the reservation under my name.’

  * * *

  Leo rose the next morning as soon as it was light, did the small amount of packing that was necessary and checked out. The old boy said it was fine by him to leave his suitcase behind reception so Leo helped him put it there and walked into town.

  It was a cool, grey day and hangers-on seeing out the last days of their vacation filled up the street cafes with their wan expressions. The whole city seemed to need an Alker-Seltzer and Leo’s appetite was as absent as everyone else’s. He’d made the reservation at King Crawdaddy’s the night before when he came across it by chance. He glanced at his watch and realised he still had five whole hours before the Bookwalter family would turn up.

  He weaved his way through back streets to the river and, after walking some way along the west bank, he bought a cup of gritty coffee from a snack stand. It looked as if the owner had scooped it out of the Mississippi. The sun came out and tourists on a paddle steamer churned slowly past.

  What about Mutatkar? What about the phone call and the room and the laptop? With the Doctor dead, however, Leo suspected he’d probably never find out why he’d contacted him. Dakini Mutatkar knew nothing and Leo had already had his chance to search for any sign of Laura amongst the little the doctor had left behind in Bell Terrace. Maybe it was time to give the laptop and the keys t
o the police. That prospect seemed even more of a dead end though.

  He slung his empty cup into a nearby bin and looked around as if he’d suddenly woken there. How far had he walked? He glanced at his watch again and made his way back to the street to call a cab.

  He got it to drop him a couple of streets away from Bookwalter’s home and retreated to a combined mini mart and coffee house, nursing several more cups while he waited for lunchtime.

  He estimated Bookwalter would leave at about quarter to one to make it to King Crawdaddy’s in time but didn’t venture near the property until just past the hour. Allowing for the time it would take the family to arrive, get seated, slowly realise he wasn’t coming and then drive back home Leo reckoned he had at least three quarters of an hour. A group of kids were playing at the front of the row but didn’t pay attention to him as he walked nonchalantly past them and round to the side alley of Bookwalter’s place.

  CHAPTER 22

  The sidewall was long and only the far segment of it accounted for the oriental garden. The first segment would be the front room and the kitchen but it was the small bit in the middle that Leo was keen to explore.

  To his left were the windows of the next row of houses and Leo hoped that its occupants would be at work. Dead grass and cat urine pinched his nostrils and his temples and stomach buzzed from the overdose of caffeine.

  When he reached the end of the wall he could hear the water wheel in the koi pond. He put his hands along the edge of the wall and tensed muscles he hadn’t used for some time to pull himself up. Shakily, he rested his knees on the sharp top edge of the wall and looked into the garden and then up to the windows at the back. The panes were dark and gave nothing away so he quickly lifted his legs over the wall and dropped down onto the gravel. He waited for the sound of human alarm from behind him but could only hear the faint shouts of the kids playing at the front. Bookwalter didn’t appear to have any sort of security system that Leo had noticed.

  Two things had convinced Leo on this course of action. The way Bookwalter’s eyes had slipped sideways when they were having their conversation in the garden about what he had that Leo wanted and the five dinner plates that had been lined up on the breakfast bar when he’d left. Leo, Bookwalter, Perfecta and Toby – who had the fifth dinner plate been for?

  He followed the wall that he’d just climbed until he reached the area that Bookwalter had glanced at. There was a room, maybe a utility room, with no windows, behind the kitchen. Only a blue-wash painted, wooden door accounted for its presence and a string of weathered red, paper Chinese lanterns hung across it. The room could obviously be accessed through a door at the back of the kitchen but Leo was hoping that he might be able to unlock it from the garden side.

  He squeezed on the latch of the door and disappointingly found it didn’t budge. Then he heard a sound from within. It was a small, barely discernible scrape – metal against concrete – but a reflex made him step away from it and he prepared himself for a scrabble over the wall. He stood and waited, his temples inflating as he felt his circulation suddenly pumping solid in his wrists. He put his thumb on the catch again and pressed slowly down. It stuck solid and his breath snagged in his throat as he waited for it to trigger the noise again. There was nothing this time.

  He became suddenly conscious of the water burbling behind him and looked up at the black windowpanes. He put his ear gently to the door and listened but the solid wood was only a sounding board for the blood surging in his head.

  Perhaps it had been nothing more than the sound of the lock grating as he’d depressed it. He shifted his ear from the door and stood holding his breath until the back of his brain started to pound. He heard it again – a small scrape and this time he was nowhere near the door. He extended his hand to the latch again but it snapped up before he could touch it. Somebody was opening the door from within. He looked around the garden but there was nowhere to hide himself unless he jumped in the pool. There wasn’t even time to cover that distance though so instead he pressed himself against the wall.

  The door opened, concealing his hiding place and he heard a step forward. Whoever it was standing at the threshold and Leo could hear them breathing through the open crack. It sounded laboured, like the air was being drawn though something that covered their mouth. They were obviously scanning the garden. Leo realised he still hadn’t breathed himself.

  Something was about to give but he was afraid even to draw a little air through his nostrils because he knew his lungs would greedily suck in what they needed before he passed out. The other sounds of the garden seemed to recede and the strained breathing of the figure in the doorway slowed. But there was another noise behind it – a low murmuring. Suddenly the door banged shut again and the sound was like a spike in his chest. He gulped some oxygen and felt his heart fluctuate.

  He leant forward, put his hands against his knees and felt a warm rush to his head. There was a pile of cigarette butts around his feet and each one was stained with lipstick. His trespass was immaterial – seeing what he suspected he’d find in the room was all that mattered now. He drew some more air in through his nostrils and yanked the door open.

  Even though a single light bulb hung down to illuminate the interior, his eyes took a moment to adjust to the contrast between outside and the dinginess within. However, he immediately picked up the glare from the TV screen. It was positioned behind a tiny camera attached to a tripod that pointed in the direction of the back wall. Someone moved there and his eyes quickly adapted in time to register that it was the female in the boiler suit with the shaved head.

  She was tied to the chair and a large piece of black tape covered the bottom half of her face. It started to configure itself in the gloom and he could hear her breathing erratically through the tape. He heard the metal scrape as her chair slid back from him along the concrete floor and his eyes darted from her momentarily as he sought other occupants. She was alone.

  The feet of her chair struck the back wall as his eyes darted back to her and a muffled exclamation bubbled up behind her gag. Her eyes expanded in panic and he raised his hand to placate her as he squinted through the gloom. He could smell her occupancy of the room; the stale air heavy with breath, perfume and body odour.

  It couldn’t be Laura. How could she possibly be here? But Leo still couldn’t help himself from searching the emaciated features in front of him as he moved further into the room. He realised she probably couldn’t see his face, that he was just a black figure in a doorway of light.

  She pumped her arms and suddenly she was free from her bonds and on her feet. Her hand went to her mouth and Leo heard a painful rip as she tore the tape from her face.

  ‘Who the fuck are you?’ Her voice and her face confirmed what he suspected and splintered the moment he wanted to believe. She wasn’t from Louisiana but her American accent was as unfamiliar as the bottom half of her features. Her mouth solidified around the end of her question, lips pursing around bad teeth.

  ‘John asked me to call in and check on you. See if there was anything you needed.’ He watched her shoulders sag in relief.

  ‘Are we off line then?’

  ‘Yeah, just time for a cigarette break.’

  ‘I thought you was an intruder…Jesus.’ She sat back down on the chair and put her head briefly in her hands. She ran her green varnished fingertips over the faint spikes on her head and stood again, pulling a pack of cigarettes out of the breast pocket of the boiler suit. ‘When am I going to get cable out here?’ She pushed past him and he wondered if she was even in her twenties.

  He looked at the ropes on the chair that had been knotted so she could slip out of them when necessary and at the TV positioned behind the camera, beyond the vision of anyone logging on. He followed her out and found her sitting on the edge of the pool with her bare feet dangling in the water.

  ‘Know I’ve been told to stay out of the house but I’m dying to pee. I hope he’s stocked up the refrigerator.’ She was very youn
g – probably seventeen. ‘Tell him I can’t survive on Sprite and Lunchables. Not when he’s only paying me twenty bucks an hour.’ She dragged her feet out of the water and strode off in the baggy boiler suit to open the back door. She tried the handle and it didn’t budge. ‘Hey, how did you get in?’

  ‘Over the wall. John didn’t give me a key.’

  She seemed to accept this and produced a few keys from her pocket. ‘How long have I got?’

  Leo looked at his watch. ‘Server’s down. Knock yourself out.’

  ‘You gonna tell if I use his jacuzzi?’

  ‘Your secret’s safe with me.’ He watched her disappear inside and considered following her to exact a bit of damage in Toby’s bedroom. The idea of trashing a teenager’s computer seemed pitiable though. Distancing himself from Bookwalter and his reprehensible enterprise seemed to be the best way to make himself feel better about ever having become associated with him in the first place.

  Before he pulled himself back over the wall, however, he dumped the webcam and its tripod into the swimming pool.

  Leo had booked his own flight for nine that evening so returned to L’agneau and slept properly for a couple of hours for the first time in days. He awoke in plenty of time to make it to the airport, splashed his face with water and headed down to reception to pick up his bag just before seven. The old boy at reception seemed relieved to see him.

  ‘Mr Sharpe, I didn’t know you were here. Agnes thought you’d walked off with the key but I told her you wouldn’t – not while we still had your bag in back.’

  ‘I’m sorry. There was nobody around when I came back. I wasn’t sure if I had to check out at a certain time or if it was OK for me to use the room til my flight.’

  ‘Check out’s at midday so I’m gonna have to charge you for an extra day.’

  ‘O…K.’ Leo pulled out his wallet and extracted his credit card.

  ‘Been serving at the private bar all afternoon.’

  ‘That’s probably why I missed you.’