White Lilies (23 page)

Dylan updated the team in debrief regarding Billy Greenwood’s injuries, the prognosis of his recovery and the securing of the piece of metal from one of his wounds. Although the piece of evidence was minute, he told them it was highly significant as it was more than likely part of the tip of the blade, which he knew would be an invaluable piece of evidence if the murder weapon was found.

He also updated everyone in respect of the suicide attempt after tracing Graham Tate, and John told the assembled group that the hospital staff had confirmed that he had taken a cocktail of drinks and drugs. He was still in ICU and as yet had not regained consciousness, which meant that he remained under constant watch due to his present state of mind. A suicide note was also recovered.

‘Is he in the same ICU as Billy Greenwood, John?’ asked Dylan.

‘Yeah, but I’ve made uniform staff aware of who they both are and their history and they are making arrangements for him to be relocated to Leeds.’

‘Well, they’re hardly likely to cause any trouble judging by the state of their health,’ Taylor said, sarcastically. ‘It would appear Bill Forrester can be eliminated from our enquiry too, sir, although I don’t care for the man.’

‘Oh, come off it,’ John snapped, ‘the man only said he didn’t feel any sympathy for the two who had just subjected his daughter to a violent rape attack.’

Taylor glanced at John with a look that said it all. ‘We also saw Duncan Harvey, whose whereabouts will also be verified I’m sure,’ she continued.

‘Just for your info boss, a lady phoned in to the incident room this morning after your press release to say that someone had stolen the lilies she had fastened to the railings on the road about half a mile from Denton and Greenwood’s flat.

'Her son died at the spot some years ago and she always leaves white lilies there to mark the anniversary of his death, which happened to be the day before our two were attacked. She didn’t know if it was relevant,’ said Lisa.

‘I want her seen as soon as possible and a statement obtained. Find out where she bought them from. It could give us a source for lilies if nothing else.’

Vicky read out a list of items seized from Stevenson’s house.

Dylan concluded the debrief by thanking everyone for their efforts. It was time for home; tomorrow would be another day to move the enquiries forward.

Jen was nervous. The fact her bump had measured 34.5 cm when it had measured 34 cm the week before, had concerned her midwife enough to schedule the imminent scan. Jen was pleased that Dylan was able to go with her. He’d told the office staff he wouldn’t be in until after lunch. As they waited at the hospital, Jen squeezed his arm.

‘Thanks for being here with me. I’m so scared,’ she said, as she slipped her hand into his. He noticed that her palm was a little sweaty, so he squeezed her hand tight.

‘Nervous? I’m excited,’ Dylan said with gusto. ‘Just think we wouldn’t be having another scan if the Button wasn’t measuring small. We’re lucky to get to see him again before he’s born.’

‘He?’

‘Whatever,’ Dylan laughed. ‘I don’t care if Button is a he or a she as long as he or she are okay,’ he grinned like a Cheshire cat.

‘l know and at thirty-seven weeks I’ve been really lucky haven’t I, not to have had any problems?’ she said. She licked her lips and stretched her back. ‘It’ll be okay. It’s probably because his head is engaged or I was laid on the bed last week when she measured me and this week I was laid on the sofa.’

‘Exactly,’ said Dylan. ‘So enjoy the experience,’ he smiled.

‘My mouth is so dry. Can you believe that when I’ve had so much water to drink?’ Jen fidgeted in the uncomfortable hard hospital chair as she tried to get comfy with a full bladder. ‘If they don’t hurry up I’m going to pee my pants,’ she whispered.

Dylan put his arm around her shoulders and squeezed her tight. ‘We were fortunate not to have had to go through the dilemma of ‘should we or shouldn’t we' at our age, weren’t we?’ he mused.

‘And if we had, we’d have doubted whether we could afford to raise one?’

‘Best decision I didn’t make,’ Dylan chuckled as he patted Jen’s bump.

‘He’ll be fine. Just lazy like his old dad,’ he chuckled.

Jen looked up at the clock as the door opened and a Radiographer stepped out, calling her name.

The lighting was subdued in the room where the scan was to take place. Jen was told to lie on the bed. She kicked off her shoes and sat on the side of the bed before raising her legs. She lifted her top up above her bump and her trousers below before eagerly looking towards the screen.

Jen lay perfectly still and Dylan sat beside her holding her hand tightly. He too scrutinised the blank monitor in anticipation before looking back at Jen and grinning.

The Radiographer chatted amiably as she squeezed clear gel out of a tube and into the palm of her gloved hand then she put more on the end of the probe before rubbing it onto Jen’s tummy. They always warned her: ‘This might be cold.’

Jen flinched as the ice cold jelly hit her stomach.

‘There’s your baby,’ she said, with glee as she rolled the ball like probe around Jen’s stomach indicating with her spare hand its movements on the monitor.

Jen and Dylan looked at each other in amazement as every time they saw Buttons he seemed to have grown. Dylan’s eyes unexpectedly filled with tears and he reached in his pocket for his handkerchief. The scan wasn’t as clear as it had been previously but this time the baby did turn his face towards the camera. They saw him gulp whilst taking a drink. Jen and Dylan could have stayed there all day listening and watching their baby.

‘The images aren’t as clear as there is a lot of tissue on the baby now,’ explained the Radiographer. ‘Do you want to hear the heartbeat?’

Dylan and Jen nodded together.

‘Would you like to know whether the baby is a girl or a boy?' The Radiographer asked.

Jen looked at Jack, ‘Yes, please,’ she grinned. ‘We’ve resisted till now, but if it’s okay with you Jack, I’d like to know.’

Dylan nodded with a smile.

‘You have yourselves a little girl,’ she said. ‘According to my notes and from what I can see.

‘But it can’t be. She’s a he,’ said Jen, in amazement.

‘Dylan rose from his seat and hugged Jen to him. Jen let out a huge sigh of relief and tears ran down the side of her face and onto the pillow below. Dylan laughed at her with tears in his eyes.

‘Oh, that often happens.’

‘They said the baby was small.’

‘Don’t worry, babies have spurts of growing. She’s just fine.’

The Radiographer reeled tissue from a roll and wiped the gel off Jen’s taut skin on her bulging stomach.

‘Not long now, eh?’ the Radiographer said.

‘I don’t want to go back to work,’ Dylan said as he walked out into the warm sunshine. He turned his face to the sky.

‘Me neither,’ Jen said, cuddling up to him.

Jen put her seat belt around her but couldn’t look at Dylan – the flaming job always got in the way of everything.

Having dropped Jen off, he walked through the yard at the police station he took the treasured photograph of his little girl out of his pocket and placed it inside his wallet. He headed for the incident room while Jen walked to the admin block. He switched his mobile phone on. It beeped incessantly.

‘Boss,’ he heard Taylor shout. The spell was broken.

‘Let me get in first,’ Dylan shouted as he opened his office door and put the lights on. The fluorescent lamp juddered once or twice and then lit up the room. John and Taylor followed close behind him vying for his attention.

‘Stevenson’s been traced to a Travelodge near Heathrow Airport,’ John said.

‘He’s booked in till tomorrow, so it’s likely he’s arranged an early flight,’ Taylor added.

‘It’s a single room, so presumably he’s on his own and keeping a low profile,’ said John.

‘Why the hell are we sat here talking? Have you informed the local nick? We need to get a team down there and I want the local lads to be aware,’ said Dylan.

‘It’s all arranged, sir. We’re going in, in the early hours of tomorrow morning unless he tries to make a move first. We’ve got him under surveillance till then,’ said John.

‘Good. You two happy to go down there with an exhibits officer and two uniform to do the arrest?’ Dylan asked.

‘Two uniform?’ Taylor asked with a furrowed brow.

‘They can cuff him and set off straight back here with him. I don’t want anyone accusing us of trying to interview him en route. You can stay and do the search and the exhibits officer can register and bag the property.’

‘Sounds good to me,’ said John.

‘Okay,’ Taylor said.

‘So you’d better think about getting off home then. Get your head down for a few hours and I’ll arrange with uniform for a plain car from the night shift to be here at twenty-two hundred hours. When you get there, arrange for the night porter to let you into Stevenson’s room and that way you can surprise him. Remember he might be our murderer though, so leave nothing to chance.’

‘Okay boss, we’ll keep you updated.’

‘Not too early though eh?’ he laughed.

At one time Dylan would have worked till late arranging the details of the arrest himself, dashed home to pack a bag, lead the team south and brought the prisoner back to interview him himself. But not tonight, tonight he wanted to spend time with Jen.

Experience had taught him he would be a lot fresher to deal with a prisoner when others had brought him in. It would be lunchtime tomorrow before he was safely ensconced in a cell in Harrowfield police station – and even then, Dylan knew Stevenson would no doubt want the eight hours' sleep that the Police and Criminal Evidence Act dictated he was entitled to. Of course it was wrong to interview someone when they were tired, he thought, tongue-in-cheek.

Jen couldn’t believe he hadn’t headed south with the team – her spirits rose.

Stevenson’s arrested without any problems. Uniform are on their way back with him. Just starting the search of his room – will speak before we set off back,
came the text from Taylor.

‘That’s a good start, Jen,’ Dylan said, as he put his mobile phone on the kitchen table and sunk his teeth into a thick slice of toast and honey. 'Mildred’s murderer is well and truly locked up.’

Jen looked at him with a wide-eyed smile as she picked up his empty porridge dish. ‘I didn’t know you knew who’d done it?’

‘Proving he did it, is well, mere detail,’ he grinned, sheepishly as he rose from his chair and leaned towards her for a kiss. ‘If only that was true.’ She walked to the sink and dropped the dish into the soap suds.

‘So, it’ll be another long day, then?’ she said reaching for the fruit bowl. ‘I’ll put extra bananas in your jock box and make sure you eat them,’ she said, wagging a finger at him.

Dylan grimaced.

‘Bananas are a good source of energy. Slow release of natural sugars. A lot better than pies – or even worse, a bag of crisps that has no nutritional value at all,’ she said, mocking his vigorous dislike of anything good for him.

‘Speak when I can love, as usual,’ he said, taking the sandwich box from her outstretched hand and placing it on the top of his overflowing briefcase.

Jen sighed as she watched him leave.

Forty-five minutes later, Dylan was in the incident room telling his staff that Stevenson had been arrested and John and Taylor were searching the hotel room he had been using.

‘That for me, Dennis?’ Dylan asked, seeing the detective that was on light duties, who resembled The Hulk, walking across the room with a cup of tea in his good hand.

‘Just getting yours, boss, white with one sweetener isn’t it?’ he said, swivelling on one foot and retracing his steps back to the kettle.

‘Well done Dennis, I’m impressed.’

‘Yeah, you might well be,’ he laughed, ‘I’m still only just managing to negotiate the coffee powder on the teaspoon and into the cup without too much of a mess on the table, with this heavily bandaged hand.’

‘Hey, Bandit, mine and Lisa’s are both white with one sugar, and you owe a quid for the tea fund,’ Vicky called from where she sat at her desk.

‘A quid?’ Dennis shrieked.

‘Yeah, and that’s cheap. Tight arse,’ she called. ‘If you can’t manage to get a quid out of your pocket I’ll help?’ Vicky laughed.

‘She’s not joking either, mate,’ Dylan said.

‘I can tell that by the look on her face,’ Dennis said, fumbling in his pocket for a coin. ‘This is victimisation of the afflicted,’ he muttered.

‘All I can say is it’s a good job Sgt Finch took the job at HQ training,’ Dylan responded.

‘And I’m sure you had nothing at all to do with that eh, boss?’

‘Development Vicky, the man needed developing when it came to working in CID,’ he chortled.

‘Ah, I miss Finchy though,’ said Vicky. ‘Even if he had to be bloody ‘PC’ about everything.’

‘Yeah, note to myself. Always ask around about people that I haven’t worked with before, before agreeing to supervise them,’ groaned Dylan.

‘His heart was in the right place,’ said Lisa.

‘Yeah, till he produced a document listing all the unacceptable comments made by officers during the investigation we were on.’

‘Not the best way to win friends and influence people, I don’t suppose,’ said Dennis as he concentrated on getting the drinks-filled tray to the group without mishap.

Dylan’s phone rang in his office. He hurried to pick it up.

‘Taylor.’ he said, immediately as he held the phone to his ear.

‘Morning boss,’ she yelled in order to be heard over the noise of the traffic. ‘One alleged financial advisor nearly crapped himself this morning when we awoke him but he’s not talking to us.’

‘He’s probably still in shock.’ Dylan found himself shouting back, needlessly. The office personnel stopped to listen and expectant faces stared at him from the incident room.

‘What did you say?’ Taylor yelled.

‘Never mind, did you find anything on him?’

‘He had a large amount of cash and about two dozen gold rings in his belongings. There’s also a few sets of keys and a Lloyds TSB debit card and credit card in the name of a Brian Stewart.’

‘A new ID?’ Dylan pondered. ‘Why would he have that? We’ll give it straight to the financial team when you get back. With their contacts, they might get a quicker result than us.’

‘Can’t hear a thing, sir. Look, we’ve done all we can here, so we’re going to get some breakfast and then make our way back’.

‘Okay. Drive carefully,’ he said, but the phone line was dead.

A new identity? Rings? Brian Stevenson was becoming interesting. He strolled out into the CID office. ‘We’ve got Brian Stevenson on his way and I want him to be under constant supervision when he gets here,’ Dylan informed the office staff before shutting his office door. Dylan sat at his desk in the quiet; thinking. He picked up his phone.

‘Can you let me know when Brian Stevenson’s in?’ Dylan asked the Custody Sergeant.

Vicky burst into Dylan’s office.

‘Boss, CID are being requested to attend a stabbing on the shopping precinct.’

‘What do we know?’ he asked, putting the phone down with a degree of urgency.

‘Young lad has been stabbed in the back by a bloke. No apparent motive, according to witnesses. The bloke’s legged it and the lad’s being taken by ambulance to hospital.’

‘Get your coat, I’ll come with you,’ said Dylan grabbing his jacket. ‘Dennis.’ Dylan called. ‘You’re in charge of the office. Just answer the phones and keep scouring the McDonalds CCTV tapes,’ he said, sweeping past him towards the door.

‘Okay, boss,’ he said.

Dylan stared at the scene of the stabbing on the precinct for several minutes before entering the cordon. A crowd had gathered. Vicky spoke to uniform, who told her that the police had saturated the area, but so far the attacker hadn’t been traced. Dylan lifted the police tape and walked into the  inner cordon.

‘Do you want a suit sir?’ a SOCO officer enquired, handing him a packet containing a disposable SOCO suit coverall and overboots.

‘Yes, let’s not take any chances,’ he nodded to Vicky who took one too.

Suited up, Dylan padded over to the spot where the incident had taken place. He could see suited SOCO officers stooped on their haunches, carefully taking swabs of marks on the flagstones. Others dusted the window of the Next store nearby, but as far as Dylan could see there was nothing to suggest that anything sinister had taken place.

‘Get the CCTV tape seized. At least it should be on camera,’ Dylan said to Vicky pointing to the camera above. ‘Please God, let it have a tape in,’ Dylan groaned.

‘Sir,’ shouted a uniformed sergeant running towards the cordon, his hat under his arm. Dylan walked towards him. ‘I have an officer in Union Street, who has found a bloodstained knife dumped in a waist bin,’ he panted. ‘Apparently a witness saw a man disposing of it. I’ve called for SOCO. And just to let you know I have a unit at A & E who will update me as soon as they’ve any information from the doctors regarding the victim.

'A witness has told us that the man he saw had two knives on him. Seemingly the bloke just ran up behind the kid, stabbed him and ran off. Officers are getting statements from anyone who can tell us anything.’

‘Thanks Sarge, we’ll just have a walk round to Union Street for a quick look at the weapon and then nip over to the hospital,’ said Dylan.

‘Mmm. He’s rather switched on isn’t he?’ Vicky said, thoughtfully.

‘He’s certainly got everything covered,’ Dylan said looking at Vicky with approval. ‘But he’s done nothing that you wouldn’t have done.’ Vicky screwed up her nose and pulled a face at Dylan. ‘I know, I know, same old, same old. I should take my exams, don’t go on,’ she whined as they walked to the scene where the knife was discovered.

Dylan studied the implement carefully. It was rather like the knives butchers use, he observed. He’d get a closer all-round look at it once scenes of crime had photographed and placed it in the protective clear view ‘sharps’ tube.

At the hospital, the boy was being prepared for theatre, Dylan was updated via his radio. He and Vicky were on their way. Initial examinations showed that he had one stab wound to his back. The concern was how deep it was and if it had affected any major organs. The boy had been identified and his family contacted.

‘So Vicky, we’ve now got a stranger attack on a young lad and Billy Greenwood with a serious wounding that could have easily been a murder. Seize the boy’s clothes when we get to the hospital and arrange for another detective to meet us there so that they can stay when we leave, for continuity.’

‘Sure,’ she said, keying the CID’s office number into her mobile.

‘Oh, and Vicky?’

‘Yes,’ she said, as she ran after him up the path of the hospital entrance.

‘Take charge of the CCTV and get it copied as soon as, so we can view it.’ Dylan said as got his mobile phone out of his jacket pocket and put it to his ear.

‘Brush and arse comes to mind.’

‘What?’ he scowled in Vicky’s direction. ‘Dennis,’ he said, turning his head to get the reception to hear his detective back at the office. ‘Can you make some calls for me and find out who we’ve got in the hostels around here and who’s been released back into the community recently. The stabbing of this young lad appears to be random. Have we got a name or description of the victim?’ he went on.

‘No, but we will have once the statements are in,’ said Dennis.

Dylan threw a look at Vicky as he held the hospital door open. ‘Give Liz at the press office brief details of the incident and ask her to appeal for witnesses will you? I’ll see you on the ward.’

Dylan stood at the nurse’s station. Vicky joined him. ‘The cells rang to let you know that Brian Stevenson has arrived and they’re booking him in at the custody suite. He’s still not speaking to us.’

‘Not even to confirm his name?’

‘Nope, he just nodded when they asked if he wanted the duty solicitor.’

Vicky walked over to the drink dispenser and held a cup under the machine. She sipped the cold water tentatively.

‘He’s not going to roll over easy is he?’ said Dylan.

‘When are murderers agreeable?’ she said. 'Look at poor Dennis, who’d have thought he’d be attacked by a machete in Blackpool by an uncooperative child murderer.’

‘I’m just happy we’ve plenty to put to him when it comes to the interviews, which reminds me to get Dennis to chase up the identification of the silver carriage clock for me. I still want to know if the one in Mildred’s photograph is the one recovered from Denton and Greenwood’s flat and the very same one that Brian Stevenson says he had taken from his house. It’s doin’ my head in. I never want a flaming carriage clock.’

‘Detective Inspector Dylan?’ said the nurse, hurrying towards them down the corridor.

‘Yes.’

‘I’m sorry to say that the young man just brought in with a stab wound has had an adverse reaction to the anaesthetic. He’s now classed as critical. I’ll keep you updated on his progress.’

Dylan looked up at the ceiling. ‘That’s all we bloody need,’ he muttered.