White Lilies (27 page)

‘If you don’t like it, you know what to do.’

‘I know, take my bloody sergeant's exam.’

‘Yes, and then you can make those decisions. You don’t have to be in uniform long before you can come back into CID.’

‘You’re right boss, as usual.’

A knock came at the window. Dylan wound it down. ‘John and Taylor are in interview with Stevenson, sir,’ said Lisa. ‘The monitor in your office is on for you to watch.’

‘Be right with you.’ Dylan said, hurriedly getting out of the car.

Dylan headed straight to his office; if he’d still been a smoker then the trail he’d have left in his wake would have resembled a smoking chimney. As it was, he had to be satisfied with a mouthful of chewing gum.

He knew how fortunate the woman in the tunnel had been. He didn’t know how he would have felt if Wainstall had slashed her throat or the firearms team had taken off his head. Would he have felt like a failure? Would an investigation into the events have blamed him? Would the scenario be used as an example at training schools nationwide of how not to negotiate with a man with a knife? He shook his head to clear the paranoid, spiralling thoughts.

Stevenson sat in the interview room with his back to his interviewers.

Dylan could tell by DS Taylor Spiers and DS John Benjamin’s faces that they weren’t fazed by Brian Stevenson’s actions, and after the formal introductions, they followed the structured interview plan. Systematically, they went through each item they had seized from his hotel room. This needed to be done to show the court at a later date that they had given him every opportunity to give an explanation as to how the jewellery had come into his possession.

‘Is one or more of these rings Mildred’s?’ asked Taylor.

Stevenson stared at the blank wall.

‘Is that why she wasn’t wearing any rings when her body was found?’ asked John.

Stevenson looked mannequin like as he sat perfectly still and made no comment.

‘Was she sat with her back to you when you smashed her skull in? Is that what you do when the people you prey on no longer have anything to give?’ John said.

Stevenson made no comment but his shoulders rose and then dropped as he sighed, as if he was bored.

‘Are you sat with your back to us as a protest against the interviews or is it simply that you don’t like to face up to what you’ve done?’ Taylor said, with venom in her voice.

Stevenson swiftly turned, which made Taylor flinch. His eyes were bright and Dylan saw he took confidence from her reaction to his movement.

‘If you’ve got all the answers, why don’t you charge me?’ he said with a sneer.

‘Hardly the response of an innocent man, is it?’ John said.

He turned away from them very slowly and was silent.

‘Damn,’ Dylan said through gritted teeth.

‘Never been married have you?’ said Taylor.

He didn’t respond. Dylan could see the muscles in his neck tense. She continued the line of questioning.

‘Do you have some sort of fetish for elderly women, Mr Stevenson?’

Stevenson took a deep breath. Dylan saw Taylor steel herself for a reaction that never came.

‘Well, I don’t see many men’s names on the list of your clients. Neither are there any men’s rings in this hoard of jewellery. Is there a sexual motive to your crimes? Is the theft of property to hide a more deviant side of your nature, Mr Stevenson?’

The room was quiet. Neither interviewer spoke for at least a minute.

‘I’m sure an innocent man would be protesting,’ John said at last.

Dylan could see Stevenson hunch his shoulders and it reminded him of a cat that was ready to pounce.

‘Steady now, steady… wait for his reaction,’ Dylan mumbled.

‘Was Mildred’s murder sexual, Mr Stevenson?’ Taylor said swiftly.

The questions were like darts piercing Stevenson’s back and Dylan could tell he was feeling every single one. He turned to face the officers. ‘One last time, she fell. She just fell. How many times do I have to tell you?’

‘Right, she fell,’ said John.

There was another pause, ‘I admit I stole some bits from her, but I found her dead at the bottom of the stairs. I never touched her.’

Dylan’s skin tingled and he could feel his blood pumping through his veins. It was the
breakthrough they were waiting for. The detectives never once let their professional mask slip.

‘You know that’s not true Mr Stevenson. Her injuries are not consistent with a fall. Why are you avoiding the question of sex?’ Taylor said, pushing the boundaries.

‘I have to challenge your line of questioning, officer. There has been no disclosure of any sexual assault or any suggestion of such to me,’ said his solicitor, Lin Perfect.

‘Yes you’re right. I’m simply trying to understand why the majority of Mr Stevenson’s clients are female and elderly,’ responded Taylor contritely.

‘Don’t make me out to be a pervert,’ Brian Stevenson said. ‘You have no proof of that and I have nothing else to say,’ he said with a new-found authority in his voice.

Taylor and John tried to question him further but it was obvious that he was not going to speak to them
anymore. Dylan ran a hand through his hair, sat back in his chair and forced the expelling air out of his lungs. The interview was terminated and Brian Stevenson could be seen on Dylan’s monitor being escorted out of the interview room on his way back to the custody suite to be charged. He made no comment.

‘There’s no way he’s gonna make our job easy is there?’ John mumbled to Taylor as they walked into Dylan’s office.

‘No, and I’m sure Mildred isn’t his only victim,’ Dylan said.

‘At least we have him in custody, we just need to prove the charge now and focus on the file for the murder of Mildred Sykes to get him convicted and sentenced to life. He can always be brought back before the court if there were other charges proved afterwards.’

The incident room was buzzing. It was late. ‘We off for a drink?’ Taylor asked.

Lisa picked up the ringing phone. Her already tired face paled. ‘Stevenson slashed his wrists in his cell, there’s an ambulance en route,’ she said.

‘What?’ John said. ‘I thought he was being watched? The boss is gonna go ape,’ he said as he turned towards Dylan’s office, where he could see his boss in animated discussions with someone on the phone.

‘The wanker. That’ll cause an internal investigation, overseen by the independent body, which will be more of a priority than the bloody murder,’ John groaned into his hands.

‘He may have just realised that he was looking at life inside,’ she said. ‘How serious is it? Do we know?’ Taylor asked Lisa.

‘No,’ she said, biting her lip.

‘It’s ironic isn’t it; the amount of people that will be scrambling to save a murderer's life now,’ Vicky said.

‘And they’ll probably save him? Only the good die young, don’t they say?’ Taylor added.

‘We’ll be alright then,’ Vicky said, looking at Taylor in a different light. ‘I’m going to the cells. I want to know what’s happening. You coming?’

‘They won’t tell you anything,’ said Taylor.

‘No, but I want to know if the bastard’s going to live or die.’

‘I’d better go break the news to the boss,’ John grimaced.

‘Coffee, Boss?’

Dylan lifted his head from within his arms on the desk as John walked into his office, his hand wrapped round a mug of coffee. ‘You’re gonna need this,’ he said, pulling a face as he placed the drink in front of him.

‘Now what’s happened?’ Dylan groaned. He could hear Vicky’s loud raucous voice outside. He smiled weakly. You should be like the cats that got the cream.’

‘We were.’

‘Were? What’s the bloody problem, it can’t be that bad, surely?’ he said, the smile on his face fading.

Taylor knocked at the door, opened it and rushed in. Her face was flushed. ‘He slashed his wrists,’ she said, flopping down in the only vacant chair in the office.

‘What, how?’ Dylan demanded. ‘With what; I thought he was on suicide watch?’ Dylan’s face paled at the look on her face. ‘How bad is he?’ he continued.

Dylan and John looked at Taylor for the answers.

‘With a paper clip, believe it or not, the cells think he might have taken it from his solicitor’s paperwork’.

‘So has he been treated and is he back in the cells?’

‘Yes. The wounds are superficial. Although there was a lot of blood it was a half-hearted attempt according to the staff downstairs.'

‘So what’s up then?’

‘We thought,’ John said, meekly ‘ you’d be fuming that a potential serial killer might have taken his secrets to the grave with him.’

‘Fate and luck always play a part in this game, you should know that by now. Come on you two,’ he smiled at their serious faces and his normal pallor returned. ‘I think we all deserve a drink, don’t you?’ The pair smiled, tiredly. ‘Let’s just find out what’s happening to Wainstall first.’

The sight of relief on their faces told Dylan how much the case meant to them. At one time he would have gone mad, they were right to be concerned about telling him. Was he going soft in his old age?

Dylan picked up the phone and spoke to the Custody Sergeant regarding Frederick Wainstall.

‘Boss, he’s loopy if you want my opinion,’ he said. ‘He’s like a bloody animal. So much so, that I’ve had to call in the doctor to confirm that he’s fit to detain and check his fitness to interview. For the time being I’m keeping him handcuffed.’

‘Safest way,’ Dylan grinned. ‘That’ll keep you on your toes for a few hours. He’s been deemed fit on both counts previously, but he’s no stranger to being locked up so he might just be playing the game. Let’s hope this time he’s locked up once and for all.’

‘We’ll see what the doc says.’

‘I’m going to arrange for him to be interviewed tomorrow morning. Give me a call will you, when the doctor’s been?’

‘Will do boss. By the way before you go; he had a mobile phone on him and some bits of paper, and flowers, of all things, stuffed in his pockets. DC Hardacre has just been down for them and taken them away.’

‘Thanks Sarge,’ he said as he heard Vicky’s dulcet tones in the CID office outside.

‘Whose mobile is it then? Let me guess Denton’s?’ Dylan called out.

‘Well it’s a Nokia sir, like Denton’s,’ she said. ‘How good would that be if it was? Battery’s flat,’ she said, screwing up her face.

‘Handle it with kid gloves and get it checked for fingerprints on the inside, battery, sim card. The database should confirm it for us one way or another,’ said Dylan.

Vicky stood by Dylan’s open door.

‘Take it to the technical unit. By early tomorrow morning we should get a result.’

Vicky turned to obey his instructions. ‘On second thoughts, get a motorcyclist from traffic to do it. You look all in.’

‘Yes, sir.’ she said.

‘Right enough,’ he said as he stretched. ‘Give me half an hour to get the policy logs and reports done and I’ll meet you in the bar for a swift one, eh?’

The office emptied as, one by one, the team headed for the pub. He noticed the jaded look on their faces when he caught up with them. They’d had two good lock ups – but the journey was far from over and they knew it. Dylan ordered a drink from the bar and when he turned, Taylor was behind him.

‘How many have you had?’ he asked her. She stumbled towards him and into a table. He pulled her to her feet and steadied her. She leaned against him.

‘I’ve still got that bottle of wine in my fridge with your name on it, sir,’ she said. ‘If you want to take me home, sir?’ she slurred.

Dylan sat her down on a chair, brushed the front of his suit jacket and looked around him.

‘Oh, don’t be such a prude,’ she said, her arms flying high above her head. ‘You’ll weaken. They all do eventually,’ she whispered, in her drunken state.

Dylan leaned down to her. ‘Taylor, let me assure you, I won’t,’ he said.

‘Oh, yes you will,’ she said, raising her voice. ‘You really will,’ she giggled putting a finger to her lips.

Dylan leaned towards her and she leaned forward to hear him, her eyes glazed. ‘Taylor, once and for all fuck off and pester someone else will you. It’s never going to happen,’ he said.

She jumped away. ‘Assault,’ she shouted, at the top of her voice. ‘Just because you’re a boss,’ she slurred, ‘doesn’t give you the right to grope me,’ she said, slamming her glass on the table and leaning heavily on the wall she made her way out of the bar.

‘Take her home Vicky, will you?’ he said.

All was quiet. Dylan looked around him. He could feel a hot flush rising in his body and his hands felt clammy and warm around his cool glass. He would expect an apology from her tomorrow and he would deal with her outburst then. He put his drink down on the table and walked from the room. Things were going well for him. The last thing he wanted now was an immature female alleging he had assaulted her. Neither he, nor his team, needed the diversion.

He headed home. He was too tired to celebrate and needed the comfort of Jen’s arms around him. Lying in bed next to her he told her about the day’s events. As expected she told him off for going near a madman and advised him to make sure he dealt with Taylor properly. There was no room for trust with the woman, in her eyes.

‘Why would she do that?’ Dylan asked.

Jen shook her head. Dylan was really naive where women were concerned.

‘Women’s intuition,’ she smiled. ‘You’ll ignore my advice at your peril,’ she warned.

Dylan was asleep but Jen laid next to him awake for long into the night wondering how someone like Taylor Spiers would do such a thing. She knew that Jack Dylan was far from the type of man to grope a woman.

She was angry and her anger made her restless. Her legs involuntarily jumped and she pushed them out from under the covers. She couldn’t lie on her back any more because of the size of her stomach and it was even becoming uncomfortable to lie on her side even with a pillow beneath the bump and in between her knees. No matter how much she was enjoying pregnancy, she now wanted it over. Eventually she dropped into a deep sleep.