Killer Smile

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Killer Smile Page 13

by RC Bridgestock


  ‘Where is he now?’

  ‘Micky? He’s gone back to the rank but I’ve got his details.’

  Dylan nodded his head.

  ‘I’m on with Control to see what CCTV coverage or speed cameras we have between here and George Square. Sarah Jarvis is your crime scene manager and DC Wormald exhibits, boss.’

  ‘Thanks Vicky, you seem to have everything covered so let me have a closer look at what we have and then we’ll get things moving before the town awakes.’

  Dylan, Vicky and Andy walked towards the inner cordon. Jarv came towards them.

  ‘Have you taken all the pictures we need before we go ahead?’ Dylan said.

  ‘Yes, and the footplates are in situ.’

  ‘Good, we’ll do this together then, shall we?’ said Dylan turning to the others.

  ‘According to Micky, he thinks Alan Bell has an internal camera covering the backseat of his taxi,’ Vicky said.

  ‘Now that’s what I like to hear,’ said Dylan. ‘Get onto HQ I want screens around this site and this road blocked. The last thing I want to see is a picture of the cab on the TV or in some daily newspaper, unless we give it them.’

  ‘You can imagine the headline can’t you, “Film Star murdered in Harrowfield.”’

  The lifeless body of Alan Bell was slumped in the driver’s seat. A faint line around his throat showed Dylan the fatal wound. With the help of the Dragon Lamp he could see that the cut on his neck stretched from ear to ear, and due to there not being a vast amount of blood Dylan knew that Mr Bell had bled internally. The downside of this was that there would not be a lot of opportunity to find blood staining on the attacker, or his clothing should they trace a suspect.

  ‘Aha! Maybe today is going to be your lucky day Dylan?’ said Jarv who had opened the back door and was on her haunches closely surveying something she had found in the footwell.

  ‘How do you figure that one out?’ Dylan said uncurling himself from the passenger side of the taxi. ‘I’ve been woken in the early hours, dragged out of my warm bed to see this horrific sight and I now find our murdering bastard has gained the label of serial killer which means I’m going to very soon have an ACC on my back.’

  ‘One thing’s for certain it’s going to be a long day,’ said Vicky.

  ‘Well, when you put it that way...’ said Jarv. ‘But look what we have here, on the floor. It’s a garrotte. Could that be our murder weapon?’ she said. Clicks and flashes resulted in her squeezing her camera into the footwell with her and photographing her find in situ before it was removed as evidence.

  ‘Left behind intentionally or dropped accidentally?’ said Dylan.

  ‘It looks like a guitar string and it also looks to have blood on it,’ Jarv said, looking up into Dylan’s eyes.

  ‘Okay, I’ll give you it’s a good start. But I want someone arrested and charged, then and only then will I feel like we’ve had a stroke of luck today.’

  ‘Do you reckon it was always his intention to be branded a serial killer?’ Vicky said.

  ‘Oh my,’ said Jarv. ‘I think we might have also had a visit from the tooth fairy.’ The CSI Supervisor was shining her torch onto the back seat. ‘Look there.’ She pointed to a large tooth. ‘It’s an upper molar.’

  ‘How do you know that?’ said Vicky.

  ‘Because it has three roots, lower molars have only two,’ said Jarv.

  Dylan returned to look with greater interest into the victim’s mouth. It was quite clear, as Ned had pointed out that there was a number of teeth missing.

  ‘Is it one of his do you think?’ said Vicky.

  ‘I don’t think so. It looks like he has taken different teeth once again from this victim... Although we will have to wait to get him to the mortuary to be sure.’

  ‘He’ll have a set soon...’ said Vicky.

  ‘His intention do you think?’ said Jarv.

  It was apparent from the noise that the crime scene was now proving to be of interest to nearby residents who appeared at the cordon in all different states of undress.

  ‘I want the body and the taxi away from here as a matter of urgency. We need to be aware of prying eyes.’

  Traffic was relatively light and being diverted, but some people’s curiosity Dylan knew would encourage them to get as close as they could to the scene.

  ‘Vicky, have we an ETA for those screens we requested?’

  She shook her head. ‘No, not yet, sir.’

  ‘Will you ask HQ to arrange for a low-loader to come and pick up this vehicle and tell them to send a protective covering for its transportation? I want the taxi lifted and taken to the lab to let the scientists have the best chance inside and out for securing evidence.’

  ‘Will do boss,’ said Vicky.

  Within minutes she was back. ‘ETA of the screens, twenty minutes; low-loader within the hour.’

  ‘Thanks, we’ll need someone to oversee the covering and lifting of the vehicle. Jarv perhaps you and another from CSI would probably be the best for the job? Did I see Stew somewhere around?’

  ‘Yes boss,’ said Vicky pointing in the CSI’s direction.

  ‘Will you two liaise with forensic in these initial stages?’

  ‘Consider it done,’ she replied.

  The body of Alan Bell and his taxi cab would be examined in detail later.

  ‘Notify Professor Stow Home Office Pathologist will you?’ Dylan said. ‘I want him to carry out the post-mortem. He is aware that I will be contacting him should we have another,’ Dylan said to Control. ‘Vicky, I want the length and breadth of this road checked for any evidence.’

  Dylan’s thoughts were in free fall. Did the killer have transport or had he walked away? He stood quietly and surveyed the killer’s options. Was there an exit that was more appealing due to the fact he could disappear quickly? What direction was that from the scene? The location was a built up area, main road. Was this the killer’s intended location for a victim from the outset; if so, why? Dylan could leave nothing to chance. Anything lying around chewing gum, cigarette butts, sweet wrappers, crisp packets, cans, bottles, everything that was recently discarded he wanted photographed in situ then bagged and tagged and retained as potential evidence.

  ‘If there is a chance of getting DNA then preserve it,’ he told Simon Clegg, from the search team who had now arrived on site. ‘It might be a slow process but it’s a vital one.’

  A press conference was arranged by the press office for him from Harrowfield Police Station for eight thirty.

  ‘We will supply the press with brief details and some distant photographs of the scene can be taken,’ Dylan said.

  ‘Will you be giving them pictures of the victim’s vehicle?’ said the press officer.

  ‘Yes, we will have pictures taken and I’ll ensure you get them as soon as possible.’

  ‘I want to appeal to anyone out in the town centre last night using or seeing the distinctive yellow taxi to contact me. It’s likely that the press will interpret the scene as that of a robbery and I will allow them to take that route at this stage as it appears that money is missing. I won’t drop the bombshell of the killer striking again until a later press conference once we have established all the facts,’ Dylan said.

  The detectives moved away from the inner scene. ‘What I need right now is a full English breakfast,’ said Vicky.

  ‘Trust you to always think of your stomach,’ said Ned.

  ‘Come on, my shout,’ said Dylan. ‘I want to clear my head before we brief the teams and the inevitability of an Assistant Chief Constable arriving.’

  Chapter Nine

  Murder was at the forefront of Dylan’s mind. DS Raj waited for him and DS Hardacre in the incident room. Standing at the window she saw Dylan’s car flash out of the shadows and pull up in his space directly under the incident room window. He got out and appeared to stand and survey his surroundings as he waited for Vicky to alight. Rajinder heard the beep of the car alarm and she watched them turn the corner o
f the building and head for the police station entrance. From her position she saw not two detectives but two colleagues with the same purpose climb the stairs in silence, each with their own thoughts. Dylan and Vicky gave her a knowing nod as they approached, the strain of the enquiries and tiredness etched on their faces.

  ‘The name given to the Alan Bell murder enquiry is Operation Saturn,’ she said as they walked together briskly through the incident room’s doors. Dylan saw her take a few deep breaths, no doubt in his mind this was the body’s protest against the long suspense.

  As luck would have it the incident rooms for Operation Walnut, Davina Walsh murder and Operation Tapestry, Carl Braithwaite murder were on the same floor at Harrowfield Police Station. The virtual screens had been taken down in what seemed like a dramatic unveiling of the two being merged and a third murder enquiry that of Alan Bell, Operation Saturn taken on board. The collective teams awaited the head of the enquiry with anticipation.

  DS Rajinder Uppal, as were many others, had been called in before dawn to get the incident room up and running.

  Direct sunlight did not penetrate the incident room but it was well lit with artificial lighting. This was a place that would never sleep until the perpetrator was apprehended and charged.

  Dylan noticed that at the end of the incident room another visual aid board had appeared alongside that of the first two murder enquiries. These were of major importance to allow the team easy retrieval of salient points being added, as and when the information came in. Used like a classroom whiteboard they held pictures of the victims, the crime scenes, names, dates, reference numbers, known facts about them and the crimes, suspects and their associates. Dylan had some sixty staff in the room that were ready to hang on his every word. Some were working at their work stations. Others who didn’t have a desk in the incident room sat on extra chairs that had been brought in, drinking coffee, exchanging notes, reacquainting themselves with colleagues they had not seen in a while. This body of people, the best available to him, were drafted in from neighbouring divisions, or further afield for their expertise to help him find the killer.

  ‘Since the killer has now linked the murders for us all three operations are now officially merged,’ said Dylan, looking around the incident room. ‘We have an individual, who is putting us all to the test. Very quickly we need to let him know that he is dealing with the professionals that we are. We will be taking onboard the murder overnight of Alan Bell, better known to his friends as Film Star. This tried and tested practice will enable us to see things as a bigger picture in the hunt for what Home Office Guidelines now class as a series of Category A murders linking to one perpetrator, a premeditated killer. There is a possibility for more staff to be brought onto the enquiry as and when we need them and of course an ACC will be taking overall charge which will mean that we won’t have to wait as long for decisions, from the top, to be made.’ The onlookers exchanged silent glances, raised eyebrows, shared a few muted words. Dylan forced a smile, a smile that concealed a slight anguish.

  The telephones in the CID office rang intermittently. They were answered immediately.

  Being a career detective Dylan had reached a realisation of a human attachment that was somehow elemental and subconscious. His training and experience kept him detached from the horrific sights and emotion in his work. He might not appear to show emotions, but he was desperate to catch the person responsible for the crimes, before he struck again. Trouble was, first and foremost Dylan was a human being beneath the mask and he did care. He cared a lot about man’s inhumanity to his fellow man.

  ***

  Dylan checked his mail box, he saw that he had been notified that PC Wiley had been suspended. He took a deep breath and sighed. Vicky sat silently opposite writing in the policy book. She looked across the desk at him. Her blue eyes fixed on Dylan. ‘What?’ she said.

  ‘Wiley, he’s been suspended...’

  ‘Why does it shock you?’ she said. ‘He won’t be the first to be found with his trousers around his bloody ankles on duty, and I very much doubt he’ll be the last, do you?’ she said. Her head bowed and she carried on regardless.

  ‘I don’t know how they find time to... When I was a probationer, I remember a uniformed sergeant and a policewoman on our shift getting caught in a compromising position on a golf course. Their goal, I heard afterwards was to have sex on a different green every night of their night week.’

  ‘Classy,’ she said. ‘What happened?’

  ‘Complaints from the public and hints to the duty inspector meant they were eventually caught at Hole six. ’

  ‘It took the Inspector a week to catch them at it?’ she said. ‘One of my shift inspectors was nicknamed Dustin.’

  Dylan sat back in his chair, his eyebrows knitted together and he ran his hand tentatively over his chin. ‘Why?’

  ‘Dustin Hoffman; The Graduate? He was a graduate entry, bright but fucking useless... Theory-wise he was shit hot and very eloquent both orally and in writing, but when it came to practical application he was found seriously wanting.’

  ‘What happened to him?’

  ‘Which ACC are we getting?’ she said with a smile spreading across her young, pretty face.

  ‘Oh Christ, no, don’t say...’ said Dylan.

  DS Raj walked in the CID office, sat down at the desk and instantly tided up Vicky’s clutter that had spread into her personal space. Files were put back in the filing cabinet, pens in the drawer, coffee cups placed on the tray and moved to the kitchen. She put her shopping bag on the chair and pulled out sandwiches, drinks, fruit and crisps.

  ‘Hey, Mary Poppins, you got anything in there for me?’ shouted Vicky from inside Dylan’s office.

  ‘I might not like exercise, but I know someone who likes it even less,’ said Raj with a flick of her head.

  ‘I have to conserve my energy for more pressing matters. You know, I think I might have a male brain,’ said Vicky wandering through Dylan’s office door, into the main office, empty cups in her hands. ‘Seriously, I’ve been reading this article...’

  ‘Let’s get on shall we ladies? Bring a pen and paper with you.’ Dylan called as he fingered the pages of the updated policy book. ‘I want you to check with the incident room staff that all enquiries into dentistry are prioritised. Dental practices and hospitals, must be checked in relation to employees for those known to have left at any stage of their with dentistry training. Army medics... you get the drift?’ he shouted.

  Vicky looked at Raj, put the cups down on Raj’s desk and turned on her heels. Raj’s eyes looked at the offending drinking vessels defeated, picked up her pad and pen and followed Vicky into Dylan’s office. They sat down - pen poised.

  ‘I know it’s a long shot but it would be naive of us to ignore the fact that he has acquired some skill in dental extractions and that enquiry will, I know, be pretty open ended but we know for a fact our man has some experience in dentistry, we just don’t know to what extent. Raj, I’ve already upset the Press Office because of my delay in getting to them, will you give them an update? I want to speak to Maggie at the radio station to let her know there has been another murder and warn her that another call should be anticipated. Vicky, make sure the action to trace and observe phone boxes in the vicinity of the ones we already know have been used by the caller, is ongoing. Check that covert cameras are in place at those telephone kiosks and I want plain clothes observations on them, today.’

  Alan Bell’s home was searched but revealed nothing obvious to assist the investigation. There was only one known living, distant relative in Scotland who was informed of the death. It appeared that he had never met Mr Bell and therefore was unable to assist them in their enquiries.

  ***

  The press officer was relieved to see Jack Dylan arrive at the press conference which was packed full of journalists. So much so that the detective inspector imagined the numbers probably breached all health and safety regulations.

  Dylan stood behind
the chair indicated for him to sit upon. Nodding to a few familiar faces he put his finger between his neck and his shirt collar and cleared his throat. He pulled his shirt cuffs from under the arms of his suit jacket and opened the button on his jacket before sitting down behind a table which held a jug of water, a glass and a plethora of microphones, perched precariously in all directions. The flash of the cameras was a hundred times more intense than a photo booth and although from experience he expected it to happen on his sitting down, it still caused him to blink in quick succession several times. They subsided a little in anticipation that he was to start speaking. Then the room fell silent.

  Dylan outlined to those present firstly the circumstances of how the body of Alan Bell was discovered in his taxi in the early hours of the morning. He told them Mr Bell had received a serious injury to his throat and that he had been robbed. He went on to say that the investigation was still in its infancy and a post-mortem had yet to be carried out, after which time he would hopefully be able to tell them more. Before they got chance to ask questions in respect of the other two murders he informed the assembled press that in respect of the murders of Davina Walsh and Carl Braithwaite he would be holding a press conference at eight o’clock tomorrow morning to update them on developments. He assured the media more resources were being drafted into the area and that all the investigations were moving at pace. Dylan concluded, ‘Ladies and gentleman as you can see I am extremely busy, therefore if you have any questions with regard to those incidents, of which I’m sure there are plenty, I will make myself available in the morning.’ He reinforced the appeal for witnesses in respect of the brutal murder of the local taxi driver before leaving the room.

  Dylan had purposely not mentioned at the conferences the teeth extractions hoping that it would encourage the anonymous caller to open dialogue with the radio presenter. He was sure that the perpetrator would be watching for an update and media coverage of his latest crime.

 

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