He understood what she was saying. ‘Don’t worry about me, I’m fine. Sometimes I have moments when it gets to me, but it passes.’
Jen leant forward and planted a kiss on his lips. ‘There’s no good trying to reason with you is there?’ she said holding one of his large soft hands in hers. ‘So I guess all I can do is try and look after you,’ she said. He lifted his chin and planted a kiss on her forehead.
‘Sounds good to me.’ His smile reached his eyes and for a moment or two his eyes held hers.
She knew he was trying to offer her comfort but she also knew that although he appeared to take the heinous sights he saw and the investigations in his stride, the pressure to find the person(s) responsible got under his skin. She knew the hard face detective was a mask – Jack Dylan was a human being after all.
***
The TV was on but no one was watching. Jen was sewing the bottoms of Maisy’s trousers. Jack had long since fallen asleep, sitting upright on the sofa.
‘Let’s go to bed, get a good night’s sleep and pray that bloody phone doesn’t ring,’ she said sliding his mobile phone off the arm of the settee into her sewing bag. He sat up, yawned and retrieved his phone and looked at the screen.
‘You’re right. Time for bed,’ he said with a smile. His eyes creased at the corners and made them look like those of a young boy.
***
Dylan met Vicky walking out of the police station as he walked in early the next morning. She talked at him and fast.
‘I had a call from the hospital. Sister says Timothy Woodcock is able to speak to me today, so I want to seize the moment before the doctor does his rounds and puts a damper on it,’ she said, jumping into her car. Dylan nodded and watched her leave with a determined look upon her face.
Timothy Woodcock lay in a side ward, alone. A young nurse accompanied Vicky into the room. All was quiet but for the bleeps that came from the apparatus at the side of his bed. His great white face was turned towards the window. She saw his eyes were wide open and she followed his gaze to a sloping lawn and claret coloured flowerbed interspersed with daisies. Beyond that was a copse of still, leaf filled trees. She was taken aback by his size. It appeared to be too much effort for the large, solemn looking man to lift his hand from under the covers. The nurse looked on at his feeble attempts and then did the deed for him.
‘How are we feeling?’ said the nurse brightly as she bent over and laid the palms of her hands firmly down on the starched bed linen. She didn’t wait for an answer but continued to busy herself flicking switches on the apparatus and checking his drip bags were adequately full and the liquid was running freely through the tubes. Mr Woodcock appeared disinterested and his reply was nothing more than a pathetic grunt. ‘Look here,’ she said. ‘I’ve got a visitor for you. If you won’t talk to me maybe you’ll talk to this nice young lady?’
Vicky was aware of Timothy Woodcock as a pair of eyes – eyes that were waiting, waiting for what she didn’t know. His face was the colour of milk. The glassy eyes followed the nurse as she walked to the bottom of his bed. She motioned Vicky towards her and pulled her up a chair. ‘DC Hardacre wants to talk to you about a report of a burglary at your home. Shall we try to sit you up?’ she said leaning over the great bulk of the man. His illness made him appear ten years older than his actual age. With a swift well practiced action and great effort she lifted the heavily obese man to a semi-sitting position. Mr Woodcock panted at the exertion. Vicky sat down, her hands were crossed in her lap. He held her gaze with a strange, sulky stare. ‘I’ll be back shortly,’ said the nurse. ‘Call me if you need me,’ she said quietly in Vicky’s ear.
Vicky held on to a forced smile. She tried to engage with him. Her efforts appeared to be futile but her patience held.
‘I’d like you to look at a list of items we believe may have been stolen from your property Mr Woodcock,’ she said, offering him the document she retrieved from a folder. He didn’t take the piece of paper from her but looked at it apathetically. Then he closed his eyes and forced himself back into his soft pillow. Vicky read the list out to him. He didn’t interrupt her and when she finished she sat silent for a few minutes. She wasn’t sure he had heard any of what she had said. He lay in a kind of voiceless anguish then in a laboured throaty voice he opened his mouth and spoke to her. His voice was husky at first.
‘One of the reels might be worth a bob-or-two,’ he said. ‘The dentistry instruments were my father-in-law’s. He left them to me. A break-in you say? I don’t know nothing about a break-in.’
‘Your son, Jim, he told you about it. Don’t you remember?’
‘My son? Is he back from Hong Kong? Why hasn’t he come to see me?’
‘I don’t know...’
‘Jim did try, bless him, but it wasn’t in his blood,’ he said with a little shake of his head. He raised his hand slightly and let it fall back heavily, and the gesture appeared to suggest his mood. He pressed his lips against his teeth. His mouth was clearly dry but he continued. ‘Not like Ginny,’ he said. ‘She was always a natural.’ His voice trailed off and he closed his eyes.
Vicky sat for a while but there was no response to her calling his name. She left the room and found the nurse. ‘He seems very weary,’ she said.
‘Yes,’ she said. ‘He’s a very poorly man.’
‘Just out of interest, who have you listed as his next of kin?’
‘We don’t have anyone... it’s sad. He talks about a son and daughter but.... We have no one listed.’
‘There is a living ex-wife, a daughter, son-in-law and an adopted son that we are aware of. I’ll get you their details.’
‘Thank you,’ said the nurse. ‘It’ll make someone’s job a lot easier when the time comes.’
Vicky took a short cut to the car park and in doing so passed Mr Woodcock’s window as she passed between a laurel hedge and the red-brick wall. Timothy Woodcock was lying perfectly still – ghost-like.
***
DS Raj, DS Benjamin and Dylan were in Dylan’s office when Vicky approached it. It was something of a glass bowl and she could see them in animated discussion. She feebly knocked at the door, opened it and walked in. She sat next to Rajinder. Everyone’s eyes were upon her.
Well, how did it go with Mr Woodcock senior?’ said Dylan.
‘Well, let’s say I think it’s safe to assume that he isn’t our serial killer. He didn’t appear to know about the burglary, although Jim Woodcock told me that he had informed him but who knows what he has been told and by whom... He’s on so much medication I don’t think we can take anything he says into account. He did say the fishing reels might be of some value but he also thought Jim was still abroad.’
‘That’s a pity. Did we get an update on the tooth that was found in Tony Morris’s pocket? Surely they can give us something by now?’ said Dylan.
‘I’ll give Beryl a ring,’ said Raj, jumping up from her seat.
‘Thanks,’ said Dylan.
‘And I need to get the nurse at the hospital Timothy Woodcock’s next of kin details which the family haven’t been forthcoming in giving them,’ said Vicky.
Chapter Twenty-One
‘In respect of our would-be hard man Tony Morris,’ said John Benjamin. ‘According to prison liaison, since his arrival, he’s been fighting everyone. He has a broken nose and several deep lacerations to his face which will no doubt leave him scarred for life.’
‘He’ll learn. No matter how hard or tough you think you are there is always someone harder and tougher,’ said Dylan.
‘Not him boss, I don’t think he’ll ever learn. Using his fists appears to be all he knows. He’s not going to change. The sad thing is when he is released, others will suffer.’
‘If he is ever released. Who knows what will happen in the next decade whilst he’s locked up.’
‘The tooth he had in his possession didn’t belong to any of our victims so who it did belong to is anybody’s guess...’ said Raj.
Dylan
shook his head. ‘He never was bright enough to be our man. He’s all brawn and no brains. He certainly isn’t going to talk to us. We can eliminate him from our serial killing enquiries, but let’s hope the trial Judge slams him because of his past record and the degree of unprovoked violence he used on Warren Derby.’
‘I’m sure that would give the family some comfort.’
‘Do we know if he intends to plead guilty?’
‘At the moment he’s going not guilty, but rumour has it he will plead on the day.’
‘We can live in hope, John. If not Derby’s poor girlfriend, Jade Thomas, will be the main prosecution witness and she’ll have to relive the events of that fateful night when she saw her boyfriend killed in front of her.’
‘So will his parents,’ said Vicky.
‘Could she cope with it do you think?’
‘The court?’
Dylan nodded at John.
‘She’s only a young girl. She wouldn’t find it easy. But, I think she’d do what she had to do and come across well to a jury.’
‘Good, like I said before, let’s hope the Judge recommends a nineteen year stretch for him. He may have quietened down by then. Thanks for that John.’
So Tony Morris was out of the running. Dylan never really believed he was the serial killer they were looking for, but he had slashed his victim’s throat and had a tooth in his possession on arrest so he had to be put in the frame. Dylan’s next update to the ACC would be to tell her that Morris was eliminated from the enquiry.
Dylan would be interested to hear what Forensic could tell him now and awaited results. There had been nothing more forthcoming from the offender profiler and Dylan knew it was only matter of time before the killer struck again. Although the team was working full steam ahead to prevent it from happening, not one person featured prominently on the radar as a likely suspect and that worried him. He was well aware the killer was still in control and that he got great satisfaction from the way he structured the crime scenes with no evidence being left behind to give the police any clues as to his identity. But ultimately, on a positive note, he was actually linking the crimes.
One thing the team had was the knowledge that the three crime scenes were confined to a relatively small area of Harrowfield. Dylan was more and more certain that the killer had good geographical knowledge of the town. However that didn’t mean the killer lived on the patch. The canal/cycle path link appeared paramount to the crime scenes and Dylan asked himself the question. Did the culprit use these tracks to travel on? Maybe even secrete a means of transport nearby the would-be crime scene as a means of a quick and easy get away? Most of his route using two wheels or a boat would be covered by darkness, quick and relatively quiet and there was little in terms of CCTV cameras to catch him in the act of getting away.
This wasn’t the first time the thought had crossed Dylan’s mind. He had had the access routes searched after the murder of Alan Bell. Nothing had been found. This was not enough for Dylan now, he had to do something, he had to do more, and the longer he waited, the more likely the killer would strike again.
‘I want an action plan,’ he told the team. ‘We need to start being pro-active instead of re-active. We can’t afford to sit back and wait for something to happen. I will implement a plan of action that we use for the cross-border problems we have with the travelling criminals. We will initiate a stop and check of vehicles on various routes that are significant to the investigations and hopefully their high visibility will deter would-be offenders from neighbouring counties. I know it’s a bit pot-luck in detecting any crime but it appears to have been successful in the past and prevention is better than cure. I also want the canal/cycle paths on our plan but for these,’ he told those present at the briefing. ‘I want this to be done on an observation, followed by a stop and check basis. These checks will be carried out between midnight and five thirty a.m. which will fall in line with working shift patterns.’
There was a grumbling in the room. ‘I know,’ said Dylan. ‘Davina’s murder took place after five thirty a.m. but I am satisfied that the killer had been in the area for some time before he struck that day. After all he had found the used condom, this must have been something that he had looked around for to intentionally throw the police off the scent of what he was about to do. I also believe that in Davina’s case, the murderer might have been watching her and untypical of how he appeared to come across Carl Braithwaite fortuitously, he may have latched onto her routine. Make sure we have the helicopter available for our “eyes in the sky,”’ Dylan said. ‘We need its ability to search areas which are in total darkness by using its on board thermal imaging camera.’
Dylan wanted a breakthrough and he wanted it now and his need was tangible.
One phone in the incident room rang, then another. Dylan ended the briefing. He could hear his phone ringing and DS Raj intercepted the call.
‘Forensic sir,’ said Raj. ‘They have news. Do you want to take it?’ she said.
Dylan went to his office hastily. ‘What have you got for me,’ he said. ‘Something good I hope?’
Chapter Twenty-Two
Each murder scene was dealt with separately by Forensic too, ensuring no possibility of contamination.
‘We know your culprit has removed teeth from three victims. One upper molar we have recovered at the Alan Bell murder scene has been identified as belonging to the first victim Davina Walsh, from which I think we can assume two things. It was either dropped accidentally or it was left on purpose by the killer. At the same scene a garrotte was recovered, and I can confirm it was made from very old braided fishing line. Along with two random sized newish pieces of kindling wood. We have tested the blood that was on the fishing line and as expected it has been identified as belonging to murder victim, Alan Bell. Tapings from the rear seat of the taxi have revealed lots of different fibres which we are wading through,’ said Beryl.
Dylan raised his eyebrows at Rajinder who knocked at his door and walked in. He beckoned her to sit.
‘Can you possibly date the fishing line for us?’
‘Well braided fishing lines of this kind have been around since the nineteen thirties and since then have continued to be developed in several ways by braiding or weaving fibres of a man-made material like Spectra or Micro-Dyneema.’
‘Braided fishing line is strong stuff then?’
‘Oh gosh yes, you need a sharp knife or scissors to cut this. Many an angler will have a nasty scar on his hand, I dare say to prove it.’
‘As always, I’m grateful,’ said Dylan. ‘And perfect timing. I was just about to review what we had with my detective sergeants. I just wonder if our killer will stop after he has achieved a desired number of teeth?’ he said.
‘If only we knew what was going on in his head,’ said Beryl.
Dylan put his phone down on its cradle, slowly. His hand lingered for a moment. Then his eyes found Raj’s big brown serious eyes.
‘What are you thinking?’ she said as she looked at his studious expression.
He picked up a pen and turned a page in his notepad before he spoke.
‘What’s interesting me,’ he said putting pen to paper, ‘is that our killer is taking a variety of teeth from the mouths of our victims.’
‘And that matters because?’
‘Let’s see, he took incisors and an upper molar at the Davina Walsh murder.’
‘He extracted molars from Carl Braithwaite’s mouth and premolars from Alan Bell.’
‘You’re wondering if his aim is to get a full set aren’t you?’
‘Yes, but why on earth would he want a full set of teeth?’ Dylan’s mind skipped from one murder scene to the other.
‘...And a totally perfect set of teeth,’ said Raj.
‘Mmm... I wonder?’
Vicky held an enlarged still photograph. She turned it to face Dylan. ‘We may have got ourselves a witness to this man, near the Alan Bell murder scene,’ she said pointing to the image of a m
an in a blue hoodie.
Dylan took the picture from her and putting it down on his desk he retrieved a magnifying glass from his desk drawer. The men’s faces could not be seen clearly. The image showed one man dressed in dark trousers, possibly jeans and a hoodie; the other in a suit.
‘It’s a long shot but do we have anyone on CCTV wearing this type of clothing hanging about at the taxi rank that night?’
‘Well, yes we have lots of guys in suits, shirts and smart trousers, jeans and t-shirts but... the man in the hoodie he looks sort of out of place. There appears to be a logo, mark, tear, burn, something on the left shoulder which could make it quite significant to us if we can trace it,’ said Vicky.
‘I want you to find me them both somewhere else on CCTV. Let’s put more resources into the examination of the CCTV we have on the Walsh and Braithwaite murder too.’
Raj and Vicky left Dylan alone. He saw them gather their teams in the incident rooms. ‘Listen up, you lot!’ he heard Vicky shout against Rajinder’s quieter approach. Dylan got up and closed his door. Maybe, just maybe this was an important piece of the jigsaw. His spirits were lifted.
Dylan proceeded to write in his policy book with a renewed vigour. When John Benjamin knocked at his door Dylan sat upright, arched his back, lifted his clasped hands to the ceiling, palms up and yawned loudly. DS Benjamin looked down at his boss.
‘We’ve just had a call from the manager at the Forget Me Not charity shop in Harrowfield in response to your appeal. Would you believe she has just found antique fishing equipment and an old dentistry set together, on a shelf in the stock room, waiting to be priced up?’
Dylan was still for a moment. His mouth snapped shut. His arms fell to his side. ‘How long has it been there? Does she know?’
Killer Smile Page 21