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Authors: R. C. Bridgestock

Tags: #Crime fiction

Deadly Focus (17 page)

BOOK: Deadly Focus
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‘Yeah, yeah,’ Larry said nonchalantly, turning over the pages of the paper.

‘Now would be a good time.’ Dylan’s voice rose. Larry snapped the paper shut and reached for the phone.

‘How did you get on with Liz Green, Dawn? Anything?’ Dylan asked.

‘She printed me off a list of people in their school year, and also gave me pictures and a list of who attended the reunion.’ Dawn handed them to Dylan as she spoke.

‘Fantastic. Firstly, let’s get the names on those lists onto HOLMES,’ said Dylan.

‘She said the “do” was uneventful.’

Dylan brooded over the list.

‘She remembered Martin, Trevor, and Barry as noisy, loud boys who knocked about together, but that was about it.

‘Well, it’s the only connection we’ve got, so let’s see who else’s on the list.’ He passed the printed sheet over to Larry. ‘Whilst you’re looking at that I’m off to Tandem Bridge to look at the feasibility of using a room or the attic there for exhibits.’

 

Dylan intentionally took the route passing the locations where the bodies had been dumped.

The car park was almost empty when he arrived. He strolled across the yard thinking
what a lovely morning
as he breathed the cold, crisp air deep into his lungs. The sun was shining, but it didn’t have any warmth. A perfect day for walking the dog and he was at work. Typical. The station was quiet. It being a Bank Holiday, only skeleton staff were working and he strolled around without seeing a soul. As he approached the attic, he saw two large rooms which spanned the entire area of the station. They were already racked, and although the ceilings sloped, there was plenty of standing room. Pleased with his find, he walked down the steps to his car. His mobile rang and echoed loudly in the empty reception area.

‘Boss, it’s Larry. The Spencers have just found what they believe to be part of Christopher’s brace in a card put into the post box at the bottom of their driveway.’

‘The bastard. Well, he’s linked them for us now, hasn’t he?’ Dylan said.

‘I’m going over there, so I’ll ensure everything is preserved for DNA. Luckily Clive and Fran were there when they found it. Sarah is hysterical.’

‘Who wouldn’t be? Look, I’m on my way back to Harrowfield. Is Dawn still with you, Larry?’

‘Yeah, she’s still going through the lists and photos.’

‘Tell her to get the kettle on. I won’t be long. I’ll see you there when you’ve been to the Spencers’ house.’ Dylan was only fifteen minutes away and Dawn was waiting for him with the warm drink and a mince pie.

‘Well, boss, what a get this one’s turning out to be. How evil can he get?’

‘It’s officially connected the two murders now, though. How you doing with the reunion stuff?’

‘It’s laborious, but I’ll get there. It’s got to be something to do with the dads now, hasn’t it?’

‘Got to be,’ agreed Dylan

‘This list has got thirty-two names on it and most of them we haven’t seen yet. I’ll make sure Barry Sanderson goes to the top of the pile. That’s him there.’ Dawn pointed him out in the photograph to Dylan; he was standing to the left of Martin. The snap was no different from Dylan’s own school group picture. The teachers were to the side with the tallest boys centre back. Girls in pretty school dresses sat elegantly in the front, legs to one side and skirts fanned out. Most displayed forced smiles and one or two had their eyes closed. The pictures of the reunion evening were so different. There were men and women with arms around each other. Everyone looked as if they were having a good time, a glass half-full raised in their hands.

‘Hey, isn’t that Harold?’

‘Who?’ said Dawn, screwing up her eyes to scrutinize the picture.’

‘You know, Harold Little, the property man. The fella that’s off sick with a twisted ankle. Here, have a closer look,’ Dylan said, handing Dawn a magnifying glass.

‘Yeah, I’m sure it’s our “Little Harold” in the background.’ Dawn laughed. ‘Fancy that. Look, Liz has written some names on the back of another one he is in, hold on, let’s have a look. She’s written “Little Wilky”.’

‘Sure it’s not “Little Willy”?’ Dylan laughed. ‘There’s an “H. Wilkinson” on the back of the school picture, but not an “H. Little”. How weird. He hasn’t changed much has he? She’s probably just mistaken.’

Larry walked into the office as Dawn poured the drinks. ‘You must be able to smell coffee; I’ll get you a cup.’ Larry nodded as she passed him.

‘A white envelope, boss, with a Harrowfield postmark. It’s addressed to “Mr. & Mrs. Spencer”. It’s bagged and tagged and ready to go off to forensic on your say so. The card says “Happy Christmas”. Right.’ Larry scoffed.

‘Take it over personally, will you. There should be someone working. How’re Martin and Sarah, or don’t I need to ask?’

‘Absolutely distraught. Martin is angry and Sarah is beside herself. I’ve left Clive and Fran trying to console them. They simply can’t understand how anyone could be so brutally cruel.’

‘Me neither. Before you go, you know Harold Little, don’t you? Would you say that’s him?’ Dylan slid the reunion picture and the ‘Class of 75’ over the desk to Larry.

‘That’s him, yeah. Oh, god, he’s no kids, has he?’

‘Don’t know, but we better find out quick. If it is him, he needs seeing just like the rest of the class,’ Dylan said grumpily. ‘We’ve prioritised Barry Sanderson. We need to know if Barry has got kids too. What worries me is if they’d be next on the list if these groups of men are targets. Let’s get the team to rattle the cages of the “Class of 75” and see what drops out.’

 

 

 

 

Chapter Twenty-One

 

The hearses drew up at the church. Daisy’s coffin looked minute. Floral tributes spelled her name. The second car’s tributes replicated the first, spelling out MUM and GRAN. Dylan stood close to Wendy and Trevor and watched the cortege behind the hearses shining in the morning sun. The highly polished cars gleamed and the combination of the church setting and the fragrance of the flowers as the coffins were carried forward through the cascading sunlight made him feel like he was in another dimension. Music spilled from within the church as teachers, friends, and townspeople surrounded the outside.

‘Gosh, Mum, you and Daisy didn’t realise you’d so many friends, did you? Look after each other now won’t you?’ Wendy whispered to the coffins as were carried by.

Dylan thought he saw Wendy’s heart lift for a second as a spasm of joy came over her face. As he walked into the building the scent of the magnificent flowers was intoxicating, the colours so varied, the blossoms so perfect. It was a quiet, loving service that moved people to tears. Trevor gave an emotional eulogy with Wendy standing by him for support. Victoria, one of Daisy’s school friends, read out a short poem on behalf of the school. They had all come to pay their respects. It was time for the coffins to be transported one last time, to the graveyard. As they were laid to rest side by side, Trevor had to hold Wendy upright. Dawn used her hankie, but not because she was hungry this time. Dylan tortured himself with the fact that he didn’t know why and by whom Daisy had been murdered; it was a thorn in his side. He needed to find this murderer, for the families. The jigsaw was missing some important pieces and until he found them he couldn’t complete the picture.

Dylan suddenly had the urge to speak to Jen and he rang her as he lingered in the grounds of the church. ‘Hi love, funeral’s over,’ he said. ‘It was so sad.’ There was a pause, but he knew she was listening. ‘It made me realise something. This family had planned the funeral with so much love, but if I died no one would do that for me, except you. I wanted to tell you how much I love you.’ He fought to swallow a lump that rose in his throat.

‘Me too.’ Was all she could say. Dylan knew she was in an office full of people by the noise in the background. He hung up.

 

As soon as he got back to the incident room, Dylan rang forensic and read and re read the statements he had been given. His earlier sadness had turned into frustration; Dylan was like a bear with a sore head.

‘What’s happening? Any breakthrough?’ he asked around the room. Blank faces met his. ‘You won’t find Daisy’s killer sitting at that bloody desk. You need to be out there,’ he yelled, pointing to the door. Not able to bring himself to say goodbye he picked up his coat and strode out into the night air.

 

Jen was waiting for him. She wrapped her arms around him and held him tight. He closed his eyes and enjoyed the moment. Neither of them spoke; they didn’t need to.

‘You’re really quiet. Are you okay?’ she asked as she reached out to him on the sofa that evening.

He nodded. ‘Going to the funeral today made me think. What do I want to do with the rest of my life and who do I want to spend it with?’

‘Gosh, that sounds ominous.’ She looked at him, trying to make light of how heavy the conversation was getting, but he just cuddled her to him.

‘I’m so glad I found you,’ he said into her hair as he breathed in deeply. ‘I just feel as if I am rolling from one murder to another and not getting on with my own life.’

‘It’ll be easier once you’ve got him, and you will.’

 

 

 

 

Chapter Twenty-Two

 

With the two investigations now merged, the uniform briefing room had to be used to get all the staff in. There was a packed audience as Dylan, Dawn, and Larry took their positions at the front for the debrief. As usual, Dylan went around the room and asked what each and every one of them had been doing. In turn, the officers updated the team about the particular line of enquiry they’d dealt with during the day. Some had traced and interviewed class members attending the reunion, but no one reported anything untoward on that night. One officer had been to see a psychic, Madame Romany. The officer told the assembled room that she’d been having visions, and she was sure it was of the murderer.

‘I asked her to describe this man,’ the officer said. ‘She said he was a man of great stature, a scar across his face, long blonde hair, and he had been a Viking in a former life.’ The officer mimicked the psychic, speaking dramatically, and throwing his arms about as he spoke. ‘I asked her if she would be able to identify him again. She replied with a surprised look that it shouldn’t be a problem as there weren’t many Vikings in Tandem Bridge.’

The room was in uproar.

‘She also said he visited her in bed most nights. Then she offered me an open invitation to come back and see for myself.’ DC Sharpe had the whole room in stitches; a bit of light-heartedness, but a genuine enquiry nonetheless. It took the edge off the burden the room was carrying. ‘And before you ask, boss, I’m not returning even for the good of the job. I’m not that brave.’

The ripple of laughter was like a Mexican wave around the room.

‘Thank you for that, Terry. If you have second thoughts, let me know, you might need back up,’ Dylan said.

Dylan walked back to the incident room. There was a note on his desk. He showed it to Dawn and Larry.

ACC’s secretary rang regarding the review team meeting – everyone can make it tomorrow morning. 11.30 a.m., divisional conference room, Harrowfield Police Station. Lisa.

 

Jen had a meal ready for him when he arrived home. ‘I can hear your mind ticking over. Relax, it’ll sort its self out, you’ll see, love,’ she soothed, patting his hand,. ‘Go and put your feet up for once. Read the paper while I wash up.’

The
Harrowfield Times
headline read CHILD SERIAL KILLER STILL AT LARGE. He threw it down on the floor at the side of the chair, lifted his feet onto the pouffe and rested his head back on the headrest, hands folded on his lap as he sighed heavily.

Jen knew he would be asleep before he finished reading the paper. She’d watched him so many times open the first page: his arms would drop to his lap, the paper still in his hands; his eyes would close, then his head would fall to his chest. The predictability of his actions always made her smile.

But she was wrong this time; he’d not even started reading it.

 

Another day,
he told himself, as he drove into work the next morning. He had the radio on and Terry Wogan was on good form. He always made him laugh. The meeting with the team was first on the agenda; they needed to go through the format of the review. It had already been decided that he’d cover the summary and the background, and Dawn would cover the issues regarding the family and lines of enquiry. They would play the DVD and show the relevant photographs. The exhibits officer would be present to cover what exhibits they had and tell them what was still outstanding. The DS from the HOLMES team would be there for logistics and to comment on actions that still needed to be done.
If you fail to plan then you plan to fail
was one of the sayings at training school, and it had stuck with him. The divisional commander should be there, but whether he would turn up or not only time would tell. Finally, they’d prepared a detailed document, some twenty pages in length. There was one for each of the review team members to take away, but they had to be returned for security reasons. Each numbered document and to whom it had been given was recorded. To avoid disclosure of information, no further copies could be made and all numbered originals had to be returned.

A buffet lunch was to be served at approximately half past twelve.
Lovely,
thought Dylan,
how the other half live.

Assistant Chief Constable Edward Thornton was the review team leader. Previously he’d been known as ‘Eddie’ Thornton, until he made the rank of Chief Superintendent, at which time he’d sent an internal message, via e-mail, to everyone in the force announcing that he now wished to be known as ‘Edward’. In his opinion, that was more fitting for the rank. Edward was tall with a very large stomach that hung over his belted uniform trousers. Silver-grey hair was swept across his balding head. Dylan had known him for a number of years, and boy did he love his buffets. His chief superintendent was Jackie Swindon, a rather slim woman in her late forties with a neat blonde bob. He knew little of her other than she was destined for a higher rank. The SIO was Jim Taylor. Dylan and Jim got on well. Jim had been an SIO for two years. Detective Inspector Tim Fixby, Detective Sergeant Barry Light, and Jenny Cooper completed the team.

BOOK: Deadly Focus
3.23Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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