The Retirement Party

by Graham Miller

  'Why can I sense a "but" coming?'

  'Everything has changed. When you and I were growing up, print was king. My predecessors would have had stringers and they would've known who was feeding the stories back to the national press. A pint here and a bottle of whisky there and a story could've been buried.

  'But now, it's all the internet and Twitter. And you have to admit that both your victims are young and pretty. And, even if we didn't report it – that doesn't matter. One relative could start a hashtag, do an end run around the local press and get picked up by a national paper.' She stopped talking and spread her hands. 'There isn't an awful lot that I can do here.'

  'There must be something you can do? I hate feeling powerless, knowing that some spotty teenager with a laptop could undermine everything.'

  'Well, there is something I could do,' Angela said. She took a sip of coffee, looking at Haines over the rim of her cup with a mischievous look. He knew she was pausing to wind him up so didn't react. 'I could help you manage the story.'

  'What does that involve?' Despite rising through the ranks of the police force, Haines was still very resistant to management language.

  'Well, when the story does break, and trust me, it will break, they're going to want an angle, something to hang the story on.' Haines nodded. 'Now without management, it could be anything – no one can tell how these things get picked up. They could give the killer a name, they could focus on how the police are failing or a sobbing relative might make the front pages. But, if you let me, I could push some aspects, release stories, suppress others. Try to make a difference.'

  'I don't know why you'd need me. Isn't that your job?'

  'It's a two-way street. I'd need information about the case, interviews, that kind of thing. It would give my reports a bit of credibility. Quid pro quo.'

  Haines took his time to answer. He could see the wisdom of it. 'You do know that we have press officers for this kind of thing?'

  'Yeah, well, that's your prerogative of course. You could assemble a focus group, run it past the press officer, take a vote before anything is released?' There was an edge of humour to her voice – she knew she was winding him up.

  'Well, no. But I can't just go giving you the details on the case without at least thinking it through, working out where we want to go with this.'

  'No, I do understand. But you have to move quickly on this.' Haines nodded, so she continued. 'The last thing any of us want is a story coming out about how dangerous it is out there. How there's a maniac stalking the streets, randomly attacking women.'

  'Part of the problem is that this killer is giving us nothing back. There's no real evidence left at any scene.'

  'That could be an angle. Maybe try to pin it on all those TV shows? You know the ones like CSI. Are they teaching people how to be better killers? Avoid detection?'

  'We don't want to go giving people ideas though.'

  'No, you're probably right. Give me a day or so to think about it. If I email you, will you reply? Promptly?'

  'Yes, I will.' Haines looked uncomfortable. 'I know it doesn't look like it, but I do appreciate this, what you're doing. I'll get on to your emails and get the clearance if you want any further details. Hopefully we can have this managed properly.'

  'Don't worry, I'll get on top of it,' Angela assured him. And get yourself a good byline, Haines thought bitterly. But it looked like he didn't have a choice.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  As one of the youngest and newest members of the team, DC Angel had drawn the short straw and was on social media duty. It wasn't that she didn't understand the technology, it was that diving into the world of Facebook and Twitter involved plumbing the lowest depths of mob mentality. But they were right in that she had grown up with it so had a certain natural flair for it.

  She was trying different search terms and trawling through the rubbish trying to find something useful. At least, she thought, she didn't need any great skills because most people didn't keep their privacy settings up. In fact, most people wanted their posts viewed and shared.

  There wasn't a huge amount of useful information though. She was focused on the teenage friends of Mazey Taylor and Stella Evans. It was surprisingly easy to make jumps and find links between them, but she knew that it was illusory.

  It would be easy to find a link between the two women, but people added in friends on Facebook really easily and likewise tagged each other in posts. What appeared to be a link could be nothing more than two people who'd never met with one "friend" in common.

  Flicking tabs in the browser, she finally came across something of use. 'Boss, have you got a minute? I think I've found something.'

  'Yeah, what have you found?' Haines came out of his office rubbing his head. 'I'm busting my brain with crime reports so I could do with distracting.'

  'There's a hashtag that's picking up momentum.' DC Angel definitely caught a flinch across his face. Despite all the training, DCI Haines still wasn't up to speed on modern technology. 'It's #protectourgirls. Apparently, they're trying to set it up so that if a woman is feeling unsafe then they can use it to summon some blokes to walk them home at night.'

  Haines furrowed his brow. By now the open area office had gone quiet as they all considered this information.

  Finally, DC Mitchell broke the silence. 'But this is a public hashtag, yes? So if our killer's out there on social media it might become a shopping list for him?'

  'It looks that way,' DC Angel confirmed. 'At the very best, they're encouraging lone women at night to contact strangers over direct message so they can arrange to meet up.'

  Heads were being shaken around the office. DCI Haines asked, 'What's the general reaction online?'

  'Well, it's caused a flame war. The teenage women aren't too happy with being called girls. And the thought that they somehow need protecting has really kicked things off. There are people out there comparing it to Saudi Arabia where women can't leave without a male escort. It's getting pretty vicious out there.'

  'Is there anything we need to be aware of?'

  'I think it's giving focus to the usual problems of this time of year. Teenage boys being bored and needing to show off and protect their territory. Add to that the odd weather, the tourists coming in, and the fact that some of them are on school holidays. I think we need to keep a close eye on them, nothing more at the moment.'

  'What about the feminist angle?' DCI Haines asked.

  'I think they're just sounding off at the moment.'

  'You mean we won't get hordes of hairy-legged lesbian man-haters stringing up the teenage boys of Bradwick?' Stonor sneered.

  DC Angel had a sharp intake of breath that she quickly converted into a cough. She felt the comment like a punch. They were trying to catch a man who drove round at night scaring women and investigating another who got schoolgirls pregnant. And to people like Stonor it was all just a joke with stereotypes.

  She forced herself to calm down and consider a response. It was the classic trap – she either waded in to defend her gender or she let it slide. If she took the first option, then she could guarantee weeks of being labelled as a feminist in crude sexist terms. But she wasn't sure if she could be the person who just sat there when the jokes were made. Could she live with herself?

  'You know,' Haines paused to make sure he had the attention of the room, 'I've arrested most of the teenage boys who cause trouble round here and to be honest, they'd be doing us a fucking favour!'

  The whole room exploded in laughter – his timing was perfect. When the room had quietened down, he asked, 'Is there anything else of note on the internet?'

  'Well, the general news sites seem to be comparing living in the country to being in the city. Saying how people are considering leaving the city for the countryside to feel safer and then asking if it really is.'

  Haines frowned, then said, 'I did have a word with the press to try to spin the coverage of the murders. We can't have Bradwick associated with these crime
s. I suppose it's the best that we could hope for. It's not ideal but at least we haven't got an hour long special on Channel Five about our serial killer.'

  He went back to his office and DC Angel waited a reasonable amount of time before popping in to see him without it looking too suspicious.

  'You know we were talking about that car with the fake plates?'

  'Yeah, our most promising lead. Any further progress on that?'

  'Well there must be hundreds, if not thousands, of plate making machines out there. Every shady second-hand car dealer and small garage seems to be licensed. So I started looking to see if any were reported stolen.'

  'And you wouldn't be sat here if you'd found nothing.' Haines nodded. 'Why haven't you just put it on the system and followed it up?'

  'Well it's a bit delicate. For a start it's a case from nearly twenty years back. There was a second-hand car dealer, acted as a clearing house for stolen cars. Had the plate machine, printer for log books, the whole lot. Was shipping the cars out to auctions in Exeter and Bristol mainly. Does that ring any bells?'

  'Well, only vaguely. It's the kind of thing that went on back then.'

  'Trouble is your name's all over it. Together with Patterson and Inspector Haveland, who is now superintendent. What I'm interested in is that a Sergeant Sumner signed out the plate making machine from evidence. It's the last anyone ever heard of it.'

  Haines shook his head. 'That was a bad business. Old Larry Sumner. He was getting on a bit when he joined the force and was just Sergeant Sumner for ever. Left at fifty-five, but he smoked like a chimney all the time I knew him. Don't think the poor bugger even made it to his sixtieth birthday.'

  'He's dead?'

  'Yeah, must be at least eight years back, probably nearer ten.' Haines was sad, but with the acceptance that came from long years in the police.

  'Damn! So if he did have a number plate making machine, then that's another dead end.'

  'I doubt his next of kin would've known what it was. Might've gone into the auction or the rubbish. God knows.'

  'I'll keep on worrying away at it,' DC Angel said. 'See if there are any other cases where one of them went missing. Or if anyone's making up dodgy plates.'

  'I'll see what I can find as well. Just make some quiet enquiries.'

  DC Angel knew what his enquiries were like so she thought it best not to ask exactly what his information sources were.

  'There's one other vague lead as well. Gregory Watts. I know you went out to interview him. Call Stonor in and you run me through your thoughts.'

  'So, what do you two reckon? Do we have another suspect in this Gregory Watts character?'

  DC Angel and DS Stonor looked at each other, aware that while they disagreed, they didn't want to start arguing in front of the boss.

  'Okay, you two, I can tell you don't agree, that's fine. Stonor, what's your take on this?'

  'Well, boss, we can't really put him in the frame for this.' He caught an outraged look from Angel. 'I know there's an age difference between him and his partner but that's not unusual. I mean it's not like he's in his sixties and taking up with a teenager. Yes, he did know the victim. But Stella Evans worked as a receptionist in an estate agent and she was an outgoing young woman who went out most weekends. It would be more difficult to find someone who didn't have a passing acquaintance with her.' He paused before making his final point. 'And he does have an alibi.'

  DC Angel shook her head. 'He is creepy. Nearly old enough to be Amanda Goode's father, yet he's already got her pregnant at seventeen. And his alibi is very thin – he refused to give us the details of someone to corroborate where he was at the time. He just said that he was taking photos for a house sale.'

  'Yes, but he has his reputation.' Stonor tried to appeal directly to his boss. 'He's a regular guy, doing well for himself. He's not your average kind of loser who usually commits these kind of crimes. He's a settled bloke who's got a nice house, partner, child on the way.'

  'If you'd met him though, you'd have seen something. Controlling behaviour, he didn't like to be contradicted, and he tried to cut me out of the conversation at every turn.'

  Haines held up his hands. 'Okay. Okay. I get it. You, Angel, had a bad feeling about the guy, and you have to respect your gut feelings. On the other hand, I hear you, Stonor. He sounds like a good man, certainly not someone we can harass. DC Angel, you still have contacts within the estates and schoolgirls?'

  'Yeah.' DC Angel sounded resigned. 'They still know me as PC Emma.'

  'Good. Have a quiet nose around. If he really does have an unhealthy interest in schoolgirls, then he'll be known. See how much you can find out about him. Don't go so far that you need a warrant but have a poke around and see what comes up.'

  'Right will do, boss,' DC Angel tried to sound upbeat even though she was annoyed at both his attitude and the general mood in the office. She knew what she knew and no one was taking her seriously. After the whole debacle with the WankyBois she thought that they should be more open minded. She made a snap decision to take her boss at his word. As soon as she got back to her desk, she gathered her belongings to go out and see if she could learn anything.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Emma started off at the same place she'd seen the gaggle of teenagers last. She sat down at an outside table with a McDonald's coffee and an apple pie. She knew it wasn't the healthiest food but she knew it was either this or shouting at her colleagues.

  She had decided to finish her coffee and food and then go back to the office. She'd had enough time to calm down and resolve to do her job methodically and prove them wrong. But when she cast another look around, she saw a couple of girls hanging around the outside tables, nervously chatting to each other. Soon another girl sidled up and then a fourth. They were all on their phones and appeared to be muttering to each other.

  She wandered over to see what was up. 'You not coming into McDonald's then?'

  'No, the manager don't like us just hanging around. And we're broke at the moment.' This was Shell – as in from the seaside, not short for Michelle.

  'Hey! I seen one of them programs on TV. We could be like confidential informants or something. Then you'd,' she looked pointedly at Emma, 'like, have to pay us for information and stuff.'

  Emma considered this for a moment. This wasn't yet a formal part of the investigation. She wondered if she'd been sent off after Gregory Watts as a way to shut her up. On the other hand she needed to know why he evoked such a negative reaction in her. She'd been used to dealing with fakes and phonies all through her childhood so she knew when something wasn't as it seemed.

  'Right, come on then. I can't make it official but I can get you a few things from McDonald's. Then we'll be allowed to sit at a table and have a chat.' She knew she had a twenty in her purse and figured that it'd be worth it for some information.

  They all followed her in and clustered around the till. Emma had a strange feeling of being like a mother to a group of teenagers even though she had less than ten years on any of them. Maybe big sister, she thought.

  In the end they bought a strange assortment of drinks and snacks, nothing that would comprise a meal.

  When they were all seated round a table – four girls and Emma, all with snacks and drinks. Emma was overwhelmed by the essence of youth that emanated from them. Despite their closeness in years she found them strangely innocent and full of energy. She knew that this was what attracted some men and made the girls vulnerable but now she just found it a mixture of endearing and irritating.

  'So, then, what's so important? What's worth a load of Maccy D?' This was Mel, with the scraped-back hair and big earrings.

  Emma swallowed her mouthful of chips and made a mental note to stop eating so much crap food. 'We're making enquiries into someone called Gregory Watts. Just wondered if you'd heard of him?'

  'Who is he?'

  'He's this consultant estate agent, lives over in a nice suburb near Spalley Road and he has a seventeen-year-old
girlfriend.' There was a pause as the girls watched her and wondered if she'd actually cross the line and make an accusation. 'I just got a bad feeling from him and wondered what his deal was.'

  'What do you mean?' This was Kaisia, all blonde ringlets. She was trying to look grungy but her natural beauty still shone through.

  'Well, I'm not being funny, but he's over ten years older than her, lots of money, good enough looking that he could have any woman he wants. Just seems strange he'd go for someone so young.' She left the unspoken accusation hanging in the air.

  The girls all looked at each other as if there was a guilty secret that they shared. Eventually Mel received the nod from the others. She started hesitantly, biting her lip. 'This can't get back to him, yeah? Not back to Gregory?'

  'There's no need to be afraid. If he's up to no good, we can protect you and stop him.' Emma was excited now. Was she about to get her hands on someone grooming schoolgirls?

  'We're not afraid of him. It's just that he helps out in so many places. He's always down the youth club and there are people who reckon he helps out with funding it.'

  Emma frowned. 'So, why all the strange looks? What's the secret?'

  Mel took a breath to gather herself. 'Well I reckon Amanda's like the fifth--'

  'Fourth?' Kaisia interrupted.

  'Fourth or fifth of his girls. Not all at the same time. He picks them out when they're sixteen, they have a couple of babies, then when they start to look a bit older, he moves on to a new sixteen-year-old.'

  Emma was horrified. She looked around the four faces. 'And you all know about this?'

  There were nods around the table before Mel spoke again. 'We all talk, you know. Older sisters, friends of friends, cousins. But the thing is that he's not bad. He doesn't just fund the youth clubs and stuff like that. You know you hear of these baby daddies that just don't want to know? Hassled by the CSA and always in front of the court? Yeah, Gregory's nothing like that. He always has visits with each of his kids. You can see the mums on the estate – they're the ones with new buggies and decent clothes and all that. He always meets his payments, makes sure his kids are looked after.'