“What do you want to know?”
“What were you like as a kid, where did you grow up, what made you turn into a cannibal?” The inmates that were awake howled with laughter, and the ones that still slept were sharply awoken.
Pinky thought about the question realising that this is what was missing from his book, the personal side of his psyche. He decided he would recount his childhood and when he was finished would put his pen once more to paper. He thought talking about it first may help him get the events into some sort of chronological order, and the addition of their questions along the way may take him to places he hadn’t visited in a long time. “So where do you want me to start? I don’t remember the day I emerged from my mum’s cunt.” He laughed at his own joke but realised it spoke volumes about his relationship with his parents.
“Start from somewhere that started to determine who you were going to be.” Chef joined in.
“Okay, from about five I remember spending very little time at home, my parents worked all hours. My mum ran her own cleaning company so was out from early morning until late at night, and my dad worked for the post office as a HGV driver so could be gone overnight or home very late. Most of my childhood up until I started work for a carpenter was spent at a childminder.”
“I didn’t know you were a carpenter.” Benjamin said.
“It was only for a couple of years but I learned a lot, but back to the story. Until I was eleven life was actually pretty good, but it was at that time that my mum started drinking, the pressure of her ever growing company started to take a strain on her and my dad. They would constantly fight, more so when she was drunk, my dad didn’t drink due to his job, he couldn’t afford to take the chance. I would spend from seven in the morning until usually nine at night or later with Beryl the childminder. Don’t get me wrong she was lovely, a small Welshwoman who looked after so many kids there was always someone to play with. And it meant I didn’t have to listen to the arguments at home.
Some weekends I would also end up staying there, I would be the only one though. It was also when Beryl and her husband Ken adopted their second child. They already had an adopted daughter Tracey who was about two when Anthony was bought into the household. Things changed when he arrived, I felt like a burden to them. I was practically living there by this time and the house wasn’t big enough. It was also the time when I moved from junior school which I loved and had to move up to the ‘Big’ one. It was a three mile walk and all new people, my friends from my current school ended up going to different secondary schools, so although some went to the same one as me they weren’t really friends.”
“I bet you were a goody two shoes at school weren’t you Pinky?” Chef asked.
“I suppose so, I was very shy at school, even more so at secondary school. The first couple of years weren’t too bad to be honest, I knuckled down, done my work and kept out of trouble – for the most part anyway.”
“What’s this? Mr Perfect was a naughty boy.” Marcus Reed a.k.a. Fiddler decided to join the conversation.
“Ha ha Fiddler, not so much naughty but there was an incident that I think changed the course I was destined for. I need to go back a little bit, when I started the second year I had been moved up to the top class for English and found myself sitting in the desk next to Yvette Cranston. She was a vision and I was a hormonal twelve year old whose body was beginning to change. I fell deeply in love with Yvette, her dark hair, hazel eyes and crooked teeth instantly attracted me. She would sit there in her school uniform of white blouse, and navy blue pleated flowing skirt. Her look was finished off with white socks, black shoes and the school’s navy blazer with motif on the breast pocket. Her blouse was thin enough that the cut of her bra was visible, I could only imagine what lay beneath.”
“This is getting good, carry on, it would be better if she was a young boy but I’ll take my kicks where I can get them these days.” Fiddler said.
“Shut up Fiddler, do you wanna hear the story or not?”
“Go on Pinky, we’re listening.” Chef said.
“I looked forward to every English lesson from that moment on, I never told anyone that I liked her, that wasn’t strictly true my best friend Steven knew but only because he guessed after the way I would look at her. Anyway back to the incident, at the time the dinner ladies were on strike and we were not allowed to be on school premises during lunch break so a group of us would go to a friend’s house who lived a short walk from the school. There would generally be seven of us – me, Paul, Michael. Roger, Steven, Jason and Nick whose house it was.
This one day towards the end of the school year so must have been about May time. I remember the walk from the school to Nick’s house like it was yesterday. Three boys walked behind us, they were the school bullies – Justin, Alan and Nathan. Justin was the leader and the other two followed like sheep, the road from the school was a straight one to Nick’s house and all the way Justin kept picking berries from any bush that had them and flicked them at us.
We all thought that when we reached Nick’s house they would carry on wherever they were going and leave us alone–but we couldn’t have been more wrong. Nick unlocked the door and we went in, and before we knew it the three of them had pushed past Nick and the rest of us and went and sat in the sitting room, Justin sat with his feet up on the paisley print three seat sofa, Nathan had his legs draped over the arm of the single chair and Alan stood looking out the window. I remember Nick looked scared shitless, this was his parents’ home after all. The six of us looked at each other and decided the safest course of action was to let things take a natural course.”
“Why didn’t you tell them to fuck off, there were six of you and three of them?” Babyface asked. His voice so soft Pinky barely heard him.
“If it had just been Nathan and Alan we would have, but Justin was known to have a violent temper. Anyway they asked us all what we had for lunch as none of them hadn’t bought anything, they ended up eating most of what the six of us had, then Justin made a strange request. He asked Nick if he had a cassette recorder and a blank tape. Not wanting to antagonise them he duly retrieved one and a pack of blank C60 cassettes, while he was doing this Justin was wilfully rifling through the drawers on the sideboard. I remembered he opened the cupboard at the bottom and he uttered what could only be described as a ‘girly shriek’ after which he started waving a gun around, what we didn’t know was that it was a starter pistol.
With the tape recorder set in front of him he inserted a blank cassette, then waving the gun he pointed it at me and I will never forget his words ‘Pinky, we have a little surprise for you, Nick here helped us out’ as he said it he placed his arm around Nick’s shoulder. The smirk on what I thought was my friend’s face told a different story–one of treachery–I was thankful that the others looked as shocked as I was. Justin retrieved a folded piece of paper from his trouser pocket and carefully unfolded it.”
“What was on the bit of paper Pinky, go on tell us?” Fiddler just couldn’t resist the chance to interrupt.
“I’m getting to it; Justin told me he wanted me to read it aloud into the tape recorder. He handed me the sheet of paper and I read it to myself, I told him I wouldn’t read it out, at which point he cocked the gun and placed it against my temple. I can still feel the cold steel and how the fear seeped throughout my body, a small amount of piss escaped and I had never been so scared. I took the piece of paper and Justin set the cassette player recording. I read the script word for word. I’ll try to recite it for you but it was a long time ago, though certain aspects will stay with me to the grave.
‘Dear Yvette, I have admired you for a long time. I love your hair and the way you smell. I watch you when you walk, the way your body moves. When you sit down I imagine running my hands under your skirt and touching you in your most private parts. I love your breasts and the way they go up and down when you laugh, I really want to kiss and caress them. I know you are way out of my league and you would never look t
wice at a boy like me which is why I have made this tape for you. I will be yours forever, love and nipple kisses, Pinky.’
Well that was one of the most embarrassing things I had ever done and thought that it could not get any worse–but again I was so wrong.” Pinky said, the trembling in his voice evident at the recollection of that traumatic event.
“What could be worse Pinky?” Chef asked, clearly concerned for his friend.
“The rest of the lunch-break was uneventful; Justin and his crew went soon after carrying the tape with them and left me with the permanent reminder of the sheet of paper with those dreaded words sprawled across it. Nick never said a word in his own defence, but I knew from that day I would never forgive him. The long walk back to school was tortuous, all they talked about was what had happened, they kept asking if that was what I really thought about Yvette, I told them no but inside I knew every word in that ‘love letter’ was true and I just hoped that she never heard it.
In the afternoon we had two lessons, the first was Maths which I loved and the second was Science which wasn’t too bad. The best part of the science lesson was that Yvette was in my class, she sat in the row behind me. The classroom was laid out in four long rows of worktop; each station on the bench had a gas tap to plug the Bunsen burner in. My science partner was Jason, we all called him Dougal after the Magic Roundabout character due to his mass of strawberry blonde hair which covered half his face. I was forever dropping things in science lessons and Jason used to rile me about it, what he didn’t know was that if the angle was right and Yvette was sitting on her stool I could see right up he skirt, it would only be a briefest of glimpses but on many occasions I had seen the colour of her panties and imagined what lay beneath. But this day was going to be different, the lesson progressed as normal, I can’t remember what experiment we did but I kept trying to sneak a peek at Yvette when she wasn’t looking, I forgot to mention that Justin was also in the class, he sat on the very last row, and although he was a trouble maker he was also very clever which endeared him to many of the teachers.
This one teacher in particular–Mr Wilko–looked a lot like Johnny Ball from the kids science shows of the day with his wild grey hair. Mr Wilko liked Justin for some bizarre reason and ten minutes before the end of the lesson and home-time he walked up to the front to where Mr Wilko was sat reading his paper. Justin leaned down, whispered to him and handed him something. Three minutes before the end he placed a cassette recorder on the desk and inserted a tape, not dissimilar to the one I had a bad experience with earlier that day.”
“Surely the teacher wouldn’t play your love letter?” Chef was astounded that this kind of thing would have been tolerated even back in the eighties.
“Yes, while I sat there with Yvette sat directly behind me the tape started. I felt worse for her than I did for myself, at least I knew what was coming, she was about to be blindsided. As I heard my voice coming from the front of the classroom I felt my cheeks burning up, the urine wanted to flow but I was certain I would not add anymore embarrassment to the proceedings. I barely heard the jeering and the laughing, all I could think about was what Yvette was doing, was she blushing like I was, was she mortified, had she ever thought about me the same way? Loads of question went through my head, anything other than listening to my own voice and the laughter. At the end of the lesson I stayed in my seat until everyone had gone, then I took my time walking to Beryl’s using a different route which would add about fifteen minutes to my journey but it meant I wouldn’t have to use the front gates where I was sure people would be waiting to take the piss.”
“Why would the teacher do that?” Chef asked.
“Apparently Justin told him that I wanted the tape played because I didn’t have the guts to ask her out, he thought he was doing me a favour. He did apologise to me on the following Monday morning, I saw him as I walked in through the gates, it was as if he had been waiting for me. I bear no malice towards him.” Pinky finished, he realised that this was going to make a fantastic chapter in his book, an event that he had put to the back of his mind but one he knew had shaped a big part of who he was.
TWELVE
Sunday 4th July 1993
D.I. Price arrived back at the station on Caister High Street around one-thirty, she was hoping to catch a second chat with the young PC Philip Thorne. First she wanted to check he was alright, second she had a couple of follow up questions for him. She entered the building and the desk PC buzzed her through, the station was one big maze of corridors each one painted in a drab grey with doors in a darker version of the same. She passed the CID office and headed to the break room where she had been informed her young rookie PC could be found. Sure enough the room was empty except for a lone figure sat at the furthest table. The smell of curry was fresh in the air and for some reason it made her nauseous.
“Do you mind if I sit?” She asked.
“No Ma’am.” He hadn’t needed to look up to see who was speaking; he recognised her voice from earlier. As she took the seat opposite he pushed his meal to one side untouched. It appeared cold and he had moved stuff around the plate but had eaten very little if any.
“Don’t stop eating on my account.” She told him.
“It’s OK I wasn’t hungry anyway.”
“I know the feeling, was that your first crime scene? How old are you anyway?”
“I’m 22 Ma’am, yes that was my first murder scene, I’ve been to RTA’s that are bad but never anything like today.”
“Are you new here, it’s just I haven’t seen you around here before?”
“I just transferred here from Cambridgeshire; I’ve been a PC for nearly eighteen months. What I saw today I thought was only on TV, of course I know there are bad crimes but what went on in that chalet was beyond anything I could have imagined.” He said.
“I just have a couple of follow up questions if you’re up to it?”
“Sure.”
She flipped through her notebook and came to the spot she was looking for. “You said the manager told you he had received a complaint that morning about a smell coming from the room and that it was a neighbouring chalet. Did you speak to any of the residents in the other chalets?”
“No Ma’am, my priority was the crime scene, I thought other officers would be interviewing the witnesses, was that wrong? Should I have gone to see them?” He was flustered and she felt sorry for him, that hadn’t been her intent.
“No son, you were right to stay at the scene, it’s just the follow up officers spoke to all the residents in the block and none of them reported a strange smell, my question is was there anyone loitering around the chalets when you got there?”
“No Ma’am, a couple of residents emerged from the other chalets once myself and the manager arrived on the scene, but I saw them come out so they were obviously staying there. Apart from that there was nothing suspicious.”
“Thank you. Just one more, did you touch anything inside the chalet? This is a standard question it just helps SOCO eliminate prints and fibres from you. For example if you touched the handle to the bathroom they would run the prints against yours first to save wasting time.”
“I don’t think so but I can’t say one hundred percent, I’m sorry. Do we know who she is yet?”
“No, someone will be missing her before too long; I don’t envy meeting the family. It is the worst part of the job. Sorry that’s not your problem, if you need to talk my door is always open, don’t bottle things up the job really isn’t worth it.” She got up and headed towards the door. She was a striking woman, shoulder length wavy black hair. Her catwalk model frame always ensured her clothes hung perfectly, navy blue trouser suit with white blouse and she walked with a confidence many of her male colleagues found intimidating. As she walked from the room she could feel the young lad watching her, she knew she was attractive and never failed to use any resource at her disposal to get what she wanted.
At twenty-nine she had been married once for less than a year
but had no children, she had always been a career woman, progressing up the ranks quickly after she joined at eighteen. Not an easy task in a male dominated world as it was back then, she suffered sexual harassment from her peers. A few years after she joined, when she was twenty-one her boss who was in his fifties cornered her in his office one day. He proceeded to assault her stopping short of full on rape when she informed him that if he didn’t stop he wouldn’t have to be worry about being reported, that he would be too worried trying to explain why his dick had been bitten off. A week later he had taken early retirement and a new boss had taken over. She had never told anyone the story though there were urban myths relating to her and her rise to where she was.
She had been offered further promotions but had decided to stay at her present rank, she felt that any higher up the ladder and she would be drowned in paperwork, what she liked was being out at crime scenes. She had a strong stomach and she saw it as a challenge to find the perpetrator as quickly as possible, she had an exceptional conviction rate.
She knew with her current case it was now a waiting game, first she had to wait for the forensics to come back and from experience she knew it could be weeks, next was finding out who the victim was. They would run her prints as a matter of course but unless she had a criminal conviction or worked for certain institutions then the likelihood of finding out seemed unlikely. She headed back to her office, unlike her colleagues hers had no hints about who she was–no photos or personal items even her mug was plain white. The only indication that this was her office was the plaque on the door announcing DI Sian Price.
She sat at her desk and logged on to the system, her porthole to all the crimes she was currently investigating. It was nine before she left for the evening, she walked through the corridors, most of the staff had gone and many rooms were in darkness. She rarely left the building before seven-thirty and it was more likely to be after nine. She said bye to the desk sergeant and headed out to the car park, there were just four cars left, the squad cars were in the compound at the rear of the building.
Amy Cooper Forever Page 6