Confession (The Mark Pemberton Cases Book 3)

by Nicholas Rhea

  ‘If it’s very important, sir, you make copies of the key and send beat men around to try every lock-up garage — or you ask his landlord or you ask at his place of work, or his friends…’

  ‘He doesn’t seem to have any friends,’ said Pemberton. ‘But I think that is a very good job for Detective Inspector Holroyd’s crew!’

  ‘What are you expecting to find there?’ asked Lorraine.

  ‘We won’t know until we look, will we?’

  Chapter Nine

  Detectives on the Crayton murder investigation worked from eight o’clock in the morning until eight in the evening. The four hours in excess of the eight-hour day were paid overtime in spite of constraints on expenditure. As a consequence, teams were still at work in the incident room, with others on external enquiries, as Pemberton went to find Inspector Paul Larkin. It was about an hour before knocking-off time that detectives began to return to base after their day’s enquiries. Before booking off duty, they returned to process their findings, complete their records and indulge in informal discussions. This somewhat casual gathering was important in the progress of a murder enquiry, and Pemberton encouraged his officers to chat over a welcome mug of tea before going home. It was during such moments that breakthroughs and new lines of enquiry could emerge.

  Detective Inspector Kirkdale was not in the incident room at this time; he was awaiting the arrival of Inspector Mitford. Lorraine had also disappeared. She’d gone to ring Detective Inspector Holroyd with Pemberton’s request to trace the MG’s garage in Harlow Spa. With the road atlas under his arm, Pemberton entered the busy incident room and located Inspector Larkin, but before telling him of their latest discovery, he asked about local progress.

  ‘There’s not a lot to report at this stage, sir,’ Larkin told him. ‘But the teams are starting to come in, maybe they’ve learned something.’

  ‘No more suspects in the frame then? Browning’s the only one so far?’

  ‘That’s right. No more names yet, sir, but the teams are still digging into the underbelly of the area.’

  ‘Anything more on Debbie Hall?’

  ‘We’re still trying to trace her last movements; I’ve two teams on house-to-house enquiries in the Crayton area, and the task force is checking the woodland around the old mill. But nothing’s been fed into the system yet. It’s early days, though.’

  Pemberton smiled and told Larkin, ‘I’m arranging DNA comparison of samples from Browning and the earlier Sandal Strangler victims. It takes time to get results even though they claim the six-week wait has been reduced to about one in emergencies. I know it’s expensive and time-consuming, but it could determine whether Browning had unprotected sex with any of the victims.’

  ‘Even that doesn’t prove he killed them, sir.’

  ‘I realise that, but are you suggesting he was present while someone else did the killings? What’s Gregory Kirkdale think about that?’

  ‘I’ve not asked him, sir, but I don’t think we should overlook the possibility, bearing in mind that each victim had had forced intercourse and that their genitals had suffered further violence. That could suggest two participants, one who could perform sexually and one who couldn’t.’

  ‘Kirkdale’s never hinted at that theory for the Sandal Strangler’s crimes, but I agree it’s a consideration.’

  ‘I’ll put it to him when he comes in.’

  ‘You know he’s got an inspector coming from County Durham to see Browning’s body? He’ll be committed for most of this evening.’

  ‘Yes, I’ll catch him when I can.’

  ‘Right. Now, this atlas,’ and Pemberton plonked it on Larkin’s desk. ‘I want you to examine it, Paul. Go through it with the proverbial fine-tooth comb. It’s from Browning’s car and there’s evidence it belonged to him. If you check the gazetteer, you’ll see someone — Browning more than likely — has marked certain villages. They’re also ringed on the relevant maps. Those villages, Paul, are all within striking distance of the Sandal Strangler murder scenes going back to 1988. It seems there were vintage car rallies there. I’m not saying it puts Browning at the actual scenes of the murders, but it looks as though he’s been pretty damned close. What I want you to do is check Kirkdale’s files of the Sandal Stranglings, then produce a list of all those rallies, with dates, times, duration and location. I want to show how the rallies relate to the places where the bodies were discovered, and then I want those times and places checked against Browning’s movements.’

  ‘I understand, sir. No problem. But I understood Browning’s flat revealed no record of his car or his rallying?’

  ‘It didn’t and I regard that as very odd. If he was so keen on his old car and attending rallies, you’d think he’d keep papers or records somewhere. So far as his movements are concerned, I’m having DI Holroyd check his holiday periods over the years. He’ll contact you when he’s done that. And another thing. We’ve just realised that Browning must have had a garage somewhere, where he kept his MG. Holroyd’s men are looking for it. And I want you to trace the history of the MG, Paul. Previous owners’ names and addresses, and dates of sales especially — I want to know when and where Browning acquired the vehicle. His father said he bought it from a friend called Hugh Dawlish. Then trace Dawlish, we need to talk to him.’

  ‘We’re checking the names we got from an address book in the flat. I’ve two teams on that, I expect them back any time. They should have Dawlish’s home address.’

  ‘Good. And we want to know if Browning had any close friends in Harlow Spa. It seems he was a cold fish, Paul, a loner. Holroyd’s looking into that too, trying to get some background from his work place and his landlord.’

  Larkin was making notes of these instructions. ‘Sir,’ he said after a moment, ‘running a murder investigation is expensive, but I wonder if we need to spend a lot more time and money on this one? The more we discover about Browning, the more he fits the frame. He’s almost certainly our man, it’s just a question of tying up the loose ends. There’s no other suspect for Debbie Hall’s murder and from what you say, it does look as if Browning’s a key suspect for the other Sandal Stranglings. It would save money if we concentrated on him instead of looking for others.’

  ‘I’m aware of that, Paul. Certainly we should do all within our power to prove, beyond all reasonable doubt, that Browning is Debbie Hall’s killer.’

  ‘There’s no doubt in my mind, sir.’

  ‘Maybe, but I’m not so sure,’ Pemberton admitted. ‘I do have some reservations but, with a bit of luck, we should clear things up within the week. If we can prove he’s the Sandal Strangler, we’ll have done a great service to society and to other police forces across Britain. But, and I emphasise that, he might not be our man, Paul. After all, he did only confess to one murder. We must be careful about this — Browning can’t answer back, remember — and so I’m prepared to hunt other suspects even if it does eat into my limited budget. If we can positively match Browning’s movements with the rallies and the scenes of the Sandal murders, including ours at Crayton, we should be able to scale down our activities. Whatever we discover, or fail to discover, the DNA tests should clinch it — but it’s a long wait for results and they’re not conclusive; we still need good supporting evidence.’

  ‘Okay, sure, message understood. But if he is guilty, the public will never know?’

  ‘True, but they will draw their own conclusions when we announce that the killer is dead, even without naming him — and so will Greenwood and, sadly, Browning’s father.’

  During their discussion, small groups of detectives continued to drift into the incident room before completing their shift, and it was while Pemberton was pondering whether to remain or return to his own office that DCs Unwin and Gibson entered. They looked pleased with themselves.

  ‘It looks as though you’ve had a successful day?’ Pemberton greeted them.

  ‘Yes, sir.’ Sarah Unwin spoke for both. ‘We’ve got a description of a suspect!’
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  ‘Not a red-headed man with a red sports car?’ he smiled.

  ‘No, that’s what’s so interesting, sir. We’ve been talking to contacts of Debbie and other local prostitutes. On Sunday evening, Debbie was in the bar of the Lobster Hotel, around half-past seven. It’s on the sea-front, as you know, sir, popular with holidaymakers and trippers. The barman knows her — he’s called Eddie Brodie — and says she often went in for a snack and a drink, but she never entertained her clients there or used it as a meeting place. The landlord had made it known there were to be no pickups by prostitutes on his premises. Anyway, on Sunday she chatted to Eddie and bought a drink. She told him she was meeting a friend outside and they were going for a drive into the country. She had a soft drink, he said, then went outside just before eight. Eddie saw her through the windows. She met a man near the pillar box at the other side of the road, opposite the pub, and walked away with him. It was a fine, warm night, and they went towards the town centre, walking towards the car park.’

  ‘And?’ Pemberton smiled.

  ‘Eddie doesn’t know the man, sir; he’d never seen him before and has no idea if he is a local. Some of those sea-front prostitutes serve visitors, but a lot stick to local punters. Now, his description. He was tall, sir, about six feet, maybe even taller by a couple of inches. In his thirties, slim build with dark hair, clean shaven, not wearing specs or sunglasses. He wore light tan cotton trousers, a short-sleeved T-shirt, a dark-green one, and brown sandals, they looked like leather.’

  ‘Sandals?’

  ‘Yes, sir. And Debbie wore sandals too — we’ve established that from her friends — a pair of red ones with low heels. They’ve not been found, as you know.’

  ‘And was this the last sighting of Debbie?’

  ‘So far as we know, sir. None of her friends saw her after that time — eight o’clock last Sunday night.’

  ‘The timing’s about right…If he took her to the old mill and killed her, he’d be able to return to his haunts the same evening and not be missed by his friends or family. So, who is this joker?’

  DC Gillian Gibson spoke now. ‘We have asked around the town, sir, especially among the prostitutes and her friends, but no one can suggest a name. One thing did emerge — it wasn’t a pick-up on the street or in one of the clubs or pubs the prostitutes use. It was a pre-arranged meeting — her comments to Eddie confirm that. She’d popped into his bar to while away the time until he turned up — she could see the pillar box from the stool at the bar. And when the man arrived, as near eight o’clock as dammit, she went straight out to meet him.’

  ‘She didn’t take him back to her place?’

  ‘No, sir, we checked with her flatmate. She didn’t come back to the flat on Sunday night at all.’

  ‘What was she wearing, apart from sandals?’ Pemberton asked.

  ‘The dress she was found in, sir, the reddish summer dress. No headgear of any kind, just the dress and sandals. A summer outfit.’

  ‘Handbag? Did she have a handbag?’

  ‘The barman wasn’t sure, sir, but there’s no bag in her flat. I think she would take her bag; that’s not been found either.’

  ‘And how long does it take to drive from that sea-front car park to Crayton? Any ideas? That’s assuming chummy did have a car.’

  ‘Twenty minutes, twenty-five maybe if the town’s busy.’

  ‘Paul, detail an action for tomorrow. Check the car park — security cameras, attendant’s records, regular users — to see if anyone saw the tall guy or Debbie, with or without each other. Regulars might know Debbie by sight.’

  ‘Right, sir.’

  ‘Now, the timing of that sighting by Eddie fits the assessment given by the pathologist. So either that man took her into the woods and killed her at the old mill, or he was a punter who used her somewhere else, after which Browning took her to the woods. But Debbie did say she was going for a drive in the countryside, so that was planned too. Clearly, she knew the man. Was he one of her regulars? Do we know where she was during the earlier part of the day?’

  Sarah explained. ‘She was at home during the morning, sir, till about eleven, and then she went to the supermarket and did some shopping. She had a light lunch at home — some cooked ham, lettuce, and a tomato, and then she went to the antiques fair at the Belvedere Hotel, on the edge of town. It was in the grounds of the hotel, in marquees.’

  ‘Was she into antiques?’

  ‘She collected thimbles, sir. She had a very big collection in her bedroom and was always looking for more. She’d told her flatmate it was a form of insurance for her old age, something she could sell at a profit if she was desperate. She had a knack of finding the best. Anyway, she returned about five-thirty, had a bath and washed her hair, then got a bit of supper and went out to meet the man we’ve described.’

  ‘I wonder if the tall guy was someone she met at the antiques fair?’ Pemberton mused. ‘So that’s your next job, Sarah and Gillian. Check with the hotel, see if they can put you in touch with the organisers or anyone who might have attended the event, and see if they remember either Debbie Hall or her tall, slim friend. Maybe she kept a diary with names in? Find out. And Paul…’ He turned to Inspector Larkin. ‘We need to find out if Browning attended that antiques fair. His flat didn’t reveal any particular interest in antiques, did it?’

  ‘Some of his furniture was antique, sir. He had one or two good pieces, but there’s no indication he was a keen collector.’

  ‘But that’s another thing to check while we’re looking into his movements. And I wonder if there were antiques fairs anywhere near those motor rallies? And there was no motor rally or vintage car event in Rainesbury over the weekend, was there?’

  ‘No, sir, we checked,’ Larkin assured him.

  ‘This is fine.’ Pemberton turned to the two detectives. ‘Enter a description of that man in the files, put him in the frame as a suspect. We won’t release this to the press just yet — the publicity might scare him away, especially if he’s a visitor who’s still in town. We’ll keep it to ourselves for the time being but make sure all our teams have his description — and the local uniformed branch. If we can’t flush him out or find him, then we can release a description to the press and radio. After all, his rendezvous with Debbie might have been totally innocent but we need to prove that. Well done, both of you. Two suspects will keep the enquiry alive.’

  As the two women detectives began to program their information into the system, Detective Inspector Kirkdale entered the incident room, closely followed by a man who looked every inch a police officer. Tall, moustached, smart, and confident, he approached Pemberton with Kirkdale.

  ‘Sir, this is Inspector Mitford. We’ve just been to look at Browning’s body.’

  Pemberton shook Mitford’s hand. ‘Thanks for coming. And your verdict, Mr Mitford?’

  ‘It was him, sir, the man I saw at the murder scene at Penthorne. No doubt about that.’ Mitford spoke with a lilting Durham accent. ‘I’d know him anywhere, even after all this time. I’d swear to that in a court of law. In hindsight I should have had him then, for interrogation.’

  ‘If you had, I’m sure he would have had some glib answer, some alibi, so don’t get a complex about it! Besides, you’ve got your chance to rectify things now, eh? We’ll need a statement from you now, DI Kirkdale will see to that.’

  ‘Yes, sir; it’ll be a pleasure to help nail the bastard. A great pleasure, believe me.’

  ‘Don’t get too excited,’ Pemberton smiled. ‘We’ve got another suspect.’

  ‘Another? That is different!’ Kirkdale grinned. ‘I thought we’d nearly got this job tied up!’

  ‘Let’s not make too many assumptions about Browning,’ Pemberton cautioned them, and then explained about the tall, slim man seen with Debbie prior to her death.

  Kirkdale listened and said, ‘Apart from your man Browning, this is the first time we’ve had a description of any suspect. You’ll be circulating it, sir, for elimination?�
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  ‘Only to our own staff, not to the press or public at this stage,’ and Pemberton gave his reasons. ‘Now, Inspector Mitford, while you are here, we might as well pick your brains about other aspects of the Penthorne murder. Before you go, let’s sit down over a coffee and see if there’s anything we can learn from you.’

  ‘Sure, sir, it’ll be a pleasure.’

  During the forty-five minutes that followed, they learned only one other fact of any relevance — that there had been no motor rally or event with vintage cars anywhere near Penthorne at the time of that first murder. Kirkdale checked his old files and agreed with Mitford. The deceased prostitute had last been seen on the Friday night, her body being found on Saturday. It had been Monday when Browning had been noticed near the scene. Pemberton thanked Mitford for his time and told Kirkdale to provide him with a meal and a drink, at the expense of the investigation, before he returned to his own station.

  The next call was of equal interest. It was from Detective Inspector Holroyd at Harlow Spa.

  ‘Sir,’ he said, ‘we’ve traced Browning’s garage. We have no key, so shall we break in to search it?’

  ‘No, the key’s here. I’ll be there with it, within the hour. I want to see this for myself.’

  Chapter Ten

  Pemberton’s car drew to a halt outside a row of ten lock-up garages at the end of a cul-de-sac in Harlow Spa. He was accompanied by Detective Inspector Kirkdale who regarded this as a breakthrough, Inspector Mitford who had come along for the outing, and Lorraine who’d acted as driver. Detective Inspector Holroyd in another car had guided them from Harlow Spa police station with one of his detective sergeants acting as driver.

  As they stood in a group to examine the exterior, Holroyd spoke. ‘Browning’s landlord told us where it was, sir. He knew the location; he once gave Browning a lift here when it was pouring down. You’ve got a key?’