Personal

by S Thomas Thompson

  But the other end of the line was dead. Augustine had already shouted out of the office to Ash who had now started work, and he was on the way to see Jon Foley. Ash was sent on a mission to retrieve the file and was asked to meet Augustine outside the back of the building. They were on their way to see Sally.

  16

  Sally sat and waited. She had worked out that the piece of paper was important and went to the kitchen to get some rubber gloves to pick it out of her pocket with. She shut the back door on JoJo, she would be happy in the garden for hours. What had the dog unearthed? Sally looked out across the garden and thought she should have made more effort with it before the detective arrived. He hadn’t said he was coming but she was sure he would be here any minute. The lawn hadn’t been mown in over a week and she hadn’t dead-headed the flowers that had passed their summer bloom and were wilting in time for Autumn. She was proud of her garden when it looked its best but a little ashamed when she got lazy and let it all drop a bit. She was sure the detective would have bigger fish to fry but the garden was nagging away at Sally.

  As she looked once again and wondered if she had the time to mow the lawn the doorbell rang. She walked from the kitchen, looking at the state of her front room as she travelled the short walk to the front door. Sally rearranged the cushions on the sofa before seeing her coffee cup on the floor next to the right-hand leg of the same sofa. They would have to wait a few seconds. She had to move the cup to the kitchen and out of sight. Sally skipped back to the front door and opened it. She felt a push against the door from the other side straight away. It wasn’t what she had expected. The security chain was on, she didn’t feel totally comfortable in the area, and there was a hand pushing from the other side of the door. She looked through the gap but the body was so close to the door she couldn’t see what was going on. Sally said, “who is it?”

  “My name is Ash. I’m with the police. There are a couple of reporters out here. I’d like to get in if I can.”

  Sally opened the door. She saw a man ducking under his jacket to keep away from the photographer a couple of doors down who was snapping away at his camera, over the bushes. She followed suit and covered her face before slamming the door behind the two of them.

  They stumbled into the hallway in the rush to get out of sight of the reporters. Ash tried to stand up straight and look dignified but the time for that had passed. He looked at the woman who had let him in and recognised her from the brief description that Augustine had given him. It was one of the rare occasions that Augustine had volunteered to drive. He was already waiting in his car when Ash returned from visiting Jon Foley’s team for the file. Foley wasn’t there, the rumour was that he hardly ever was, but the guy who had picked up the file was only too happy to hand it back. As they pulled into the street where Sally lived, Ash could see reporters up and down the street. Obviously, someone had made a call. Some of the reporters were in the wooded area while others were knocking on doors. Augustine made the decision for Ash to jump out and for him to do a few laps around the block before returning. All he wanted was for Ash to ask a few questions and get the piece of paper. That would be enough for now.

  “You forgot about the piece of paper when you spoke to the police last night?” asked Ash as he nodded towards the paper that was sat centrally on the coffee table in the living room.

  “Do you want a drink? Tea, coffee?” Sally enquired hoping that Augustine would be following behind soon.

  “No thanks, I won’t be here long,” Ash shuffled into the living room hoping that Sally would follow and offer him a seat. He was never comfortable taking the lead in someone else’s home, even in his professional shoes. Ash was relieved that Sally took his hint, followed him in and pointed to a chair. He could get on with the matter in hand.

  “So, what happened with the piece of paper?”

  “I was looking for wounds. I didn’t know if she was alive or dead to begin with. It seemed odd that there was a piece of paper on her chest, and I removed it to see if there was a cut or puncture wound underneath. I had checked her head and the rest of her body and found nothing. I put it in my pocket while I checked and then forgot about it. I went for a walk with JoJo, my dog, this morning and I found it in my jacket pocket again. I still didn’t think it was connected to the body until I spoke to your colleague, until I spoke to Augustine,” Sally was aware that she was being watched while she spoke. She had assumed that it was the same the night before when she spoke to first the police officer and then Augustine, but it was dark and she was consumed by the events. But now in the light and with a sleep behind her she was more sensitive to this. The detective who had introduced himself as Ash was watching her face as she spoke. Sally was uncomfortable and sped up her speech to stop him doing this.

  “I understand. It may or it may not be connected to the body,” Ash lied. The information about the letters hadn’t made it into the public sphere until then and he wasn’t going to be the one that let it. He was sure that Gary was more than capable of that. “I have an evidence bag, I’m going to put the piece of paper in that, in case it is of any use to us.”

  “I see. I’d love your job. I’d love to be able to follow the clues to find a killer,” Sally found herself speaking her thoughts. It happened far too often for her liking, but she had grown used to it. Sally was aware that she was being watched again and stopped. Ash wasn’t totally comfortable with her and would be advising Augustine to have another chat with her. She had missed vital evidence once; there was nothing to say that she knew more that she hadn’t told them yet. But for now, he knew that Augustine would be driving up and down trying to hide from the reporters. Ash wasn’t that well known to the journalistic community, but Augustine had been around long enough to attract the attention of every newshound in the North East. Ash said his thanks to Sally and headed for the door.

  “If you think of anything else - anything no matter how small, then please get in touch. You have Augustine’s card. Here is mine,” Ash handed over his business card. They were all produced on the same software in the same way, so the only difference between Ash’s business card and the one that Sally had received from Augustine the night before were the name and number. She didn’t see a lot of point in having cards for two people that probably sat only a few feet from each other at most, but she took it anyway.

  Ash walked out of the front door and saw reporters from his right, pretty much exactly where they had been when he walked in, and Augustine’s car moving slowly along the street to his left. He held up both arms at once. The left to let Augustine know he was ready and the right to shield his face from the photographers. Augustine pulled up with a screech of tyres and Ash ran across the street to get in. They both pulled the sun visors in their respective side of the car down and Augustine drove carefully to the end of the road. The last thing he wanted was for one of the reporters or photographers to jump out into the road in front of him. He indicated right and turned left at the end of the road to put them off his trail. It was only a few seconds before he looked in his mirror. There was nobody to be seen.

  “Do you have it?”

  “Yes.”

  “Does it look like our man?”

  “Yes.”

  Not another word was spoken on the journey back to the police station. Both men were deep in thought.

  17

  Augustine and Ash updated the rest of the team on what had happened. Electra guessed that there was some sort of developments from the way the two of them left quickly but hadn’t expected it to be news of that magnitude. It got all of the team thinking differently. They had assumed that they were all dealing with a murderer who had been killing people for only a few weeks at most, but this indicated that it had been going on far longer than that.

  Gary just sat there with a grin on his face. Augustine could tell that he was enjoying the fact they had been barking up a tree that wasn’t entirely wrong, but wasn’t entirely right either for a while. Augustine wanted to take him to o
ne side, but decided that he could have his smirk. It cost nothing and was worth nothing either.

  The rest of the day went away in relative silence. They all worked but the mood was as downbeat as it ever had been. Augustine let them get it out of their system. There was still a long way to go with this investigation, it seemed, so he knew there would be some bad days to go with the good.

  18

  Police officer Andy Lane was walking the beat on a quiet shift. It was hot. The kind of late summer day that the television weathergirls called the Indian summer, but he had no idea what that meant. All he knew at that point in time was that he wanted someone to talk to. The day had dragged. It was several hours since his last call and that was just to break up a few kids hanging around in front of a shop. They had been setting alight the contents of a bin and then putting it back out again with a dustbin lid taken from the side of a local shop. They had done this a few times and the shop owner wasn’t very happy. He didn’t want them in front of his shop in case it put his customers off, so he called about the fire. Andy Lane had been trained extensively in ‘community policing’ but after all that training, he found that he was a natural at it anyway. He just listened to people and calmed them before going on his way.

  The hours since had been spent walking up and down the streets. The police presence had been upped in and around the city centre since the killings and he was part of this reassuring presence. PC Andy Lane was a friendly face on the streets for many. The evening was starting to show signs of taking over from the afternoon. The sun was lower in the sky and the intense brightness had faded. Insects were slowing down their activity in preparation for the coolness that would reach the city over the next few hours. People were starting to return home from school and work so the number of cars and bodies near to Andy Lane was getting higher.

  He walked almost aimlessly around the streets on days like this. He would just walk around and make sure people could see him. The actual aim of his duty was to reassure and to provide a warning not to misbehave. Andy saw the best way to do this was just to be present. The more streets he was seen on, the better he had done his job. He turned a corner onto a street on felt the full glare of the sun in his eyes. He raised his right hand and decided that he would turn into the road on the left around 100 yards in front of him. PC Lane listened to the sound of children playing in the park at the end of the street. When he was younger it used to be football in the winter and cricket in the summer. But the money in football had made it something that was played all year round. But the local kids had just got into cricket in a big way. He could hear he unmistakeable sound of ball on bat and raised a smile. Perhaps there was a future for the England cricket team after all, he chuckled to himself.

  It felt like it took an age to reach the road he had planned to walk down to shield his eyes from the sun. The insects that were still bathed in sunshine hadn’t given up quite yet and several bit at his neck as he walked the last few yards to the road on his left. The sound from the slaps he delivered to try to kill them reverberated along the streets with no wind to carry it away. In the end, Andy Lane slapped his neck a few times even when he didn’t feel a bite from the insects. For one thing, he was trying to pre-empt them, and for another he liked the sound it made.

  Finally, he reached the street and turned left. He was happy that the sun was now out of his eyes. It took a few seconds for his eyes to adjust. When they did he cursed himself that he had walked into a cul-de-sac. He was going to have to turn around again to face the sun. Andy looked up and down the street and something felt familiar. He was new to Washington and didn’t know if all of these cul-de-sacs looked the same. He turned on his heels and tried to remember if he had seen another escape route from the glare of the sun any further down the road. His brain told him to slow down. He had no idea why, but something told him to stop. It was after a few seconds that he realised what his brain had been trying to tell him. It was the street where he had investigated the abandoned car. It was the street where he had spoken to the man who was staring into the car. It was the street that he had told himself that he would return to and investigate.

  PC Andy Lane walked across the street towards the place where he had seen the car. He recalled his conversation as best he could, but checked back though his notebook to recall exactly what was said. The man that he had spoken to wasn’t connected to the theft of the car. That was a bunch of teenagers and they had already dealt with that. But he made Andy feel uneasy. He looked back through his notebook to try to find some clarity. It was several pages back before he could find the notes he made while he was speaking to the gentleman. Although it wasn’t that long ago, PC Andy Lane took notes all the time. He relied on them for occasions like this where he couldn’t quite remember what had gone on. He took them in case one of his superiors asked him what had gone on in a given situation. It was always handy to have notes relating to every encounter as a policeman, Andy thought.

  The notes were good enough for him to recall what had gone on –

  ‘Car reported as abandoned in Auriel Close. I got to the address at 5.15am. As I arrived there was a male stood looking into the car. When questioned he said that he had reported the car himself. He was vague about the car and the street, but seemed to know his way around. I asked him where he lived and he gestured towards the opposite side of the street. I think he lives at number 12.’

  That was enough to get Andy Lane interested in this again. He recalled the early morning and the surprise that there was a man stood looking into the car that had been reported the night before. There was another call that stopped him talking to the man further on that morning, or even getting his name, but being back in the sunshine at that location made Andy decide to investigate further. He crossed the street and looked at the property that he had identified as the possible home of the man he met. Now he could feel the sun in the corner of his right eye every time he stepped between the houses on that side of the road. It was low enough to be hidden by the homes, but still had enough warmth to tingle on his face as it hit him for a few seconds at a time.

  It had been far too long since he had anything interesting to do that day and Andy Lane had decided that a chat with the man he had to break off his conversation with a few days earlier was a good way to get his interest levels back up again. It was far better than just walking around, waiting for his shift to end.

  The insects had disappeared from the street as there was now more shade than sun. Andy thought that they might have gone back to the street where he was blinded by the orange-red brightness. At least they had a few more minutes there. This part of town felt so quiet, so abandoned. Just like the car, he thought. The people who lived here must have been left to rot. They are hidden away from the world, with no prying eyes to see them. Andy noticed that many of the properties looked empty. Those that showed some signs of life still had the curtains closed and looked for all the world like the people inside relied on help to do anything and everything. He couldn’t shake the feeling that he was in a lost part of Washington. It was as though he had walked into a black hole that kept all its secrets locked away from the rest of the town, the rest of the world.

  He looked straight ahead now at the property with the number 12 stencilled on the bin. He was sure from the nod that he was given that this is where the man lived. If he did live at this address, then he was probably the only active member of this cul-de-sac, Andy thought. The property looked as though it needed a lot of care and attention. It was typical of the type of properties that landlords rented out to tenants who had no choice. There was no scrutiny on these landlords and they could just leave people in the worst conditions. It was usually people who didn’t know how to complain or didn’t want to complain in case they drew attention to themselves, Whichever way, these people needed some help rather than being screwed over by unscrupulous landlords. Andy reached the drive and looked up and down for any signs of life. If there was someone home then nothing gave this fact away. Andy st
opped for a second and radioed to his control where he was. He was going out on a limb to start knocking on doors, but if he ended up chatting to this guy for a while then he wanted his base to know the ground he had already covered and where he was. That would keep his boss off his back when he returned to the station later in the day. He walked up the drive and knocked on the door.

  19

  “It’s time to go. There’s nothing else to be seen or done here,” Augustine told his team of people. They had been at their desks all day, except for the short trip to Sally’s house for Ash and Augustine to pick up the letter laid on the chest of the latest victim of the serial killer – or that probably should have been the first victim. They had crunched the numbers and taken as much information as possible about the victim. Something reminded Lou of the first victim. He wondered whether these were experiments. He wondered whether the killer tried out his techniques on these first, knowing that one couldn’t be identified and the other would take some time to find. He wondered a lot of things where the void was that usually gave him a clue to the identity and motive of the killer. If he was trying to leave the detectives a message, then it was a very narrow one from where Lou was sitting.