‘She can’t say. Could be weeks, months. They don’t take note of what’s donated and by whom but she does know she wasn’t working when they were brought in.’
John looked over his left shoulder. ‘Andy took the call. He told her not to touch it and him and Vicky are off round there now.’
Dylan looked out into the incident room and caught sight of DC Andy Wormald putting on his suit jacket And Vicky scooping up her bag from the side of her chair. He watched as they hurried out of the office.
***
About half past five Dylan heard a commotion outside. He finished the witness statement he was reading, before he lifted his head and stood up. Seeing others gathered around Vicky’s desk he put his pen down and went to join them.
‘You’ve got them?’ he said.
‘Yes, nothing exciting really, it’s just some old fishing gear and a case with a few old dental tools in.’
‘Do you think they belong to Woodcock?’ said Ned.
‘How the fuck do I know,’ said Vicky. ‘I’m not a chuffin’ psychic,’ she said pulling a pair of disposable gloves from a box on her desk. She put the first glove to her mouth, turned her head away from the exhibits and blew into it. Talcum powder showered the carpet tiles. She placed the glove on her left hand before she did the same with another for her right.
‘Vicky,’ growled Dylan. He walked back to his office with his arm outstretched. ‘Come on everyone, show’s over, there’s nothing to see, yet,’ he said, waving his arms in a sweeping action. He looked around the room at people making their way back to their desks. There were a few downhearted grunts and groans. The team was getting restless and Dylan could feel it. An inclination that there might be a sniff of a lead in the enquiry was exciting enough to whet their appetite, but not satisfy their thirst.
‘Keep your bloody hair on, I was only asking,’ Ned said, holding some exhibit bags out to Andy who held the first one open for Vicky to transfer an item into it.
‘An old fishing reel, still with fishing line on the spools,’ she said. Andy made a note. ‘Exhibit AW1,’ he said writing it carefully on the exhibit label. Vicky sealed the bag and Andy attached the label.
The box that held the dental equipment was a similar size to that of a laptop. ‘That’s bigger than I imagined it would be,’ Ned said as Vicky carefully opened the wooden lid to reveal a worn purple velvet interior. It also held within a small wrap of long thin dental tools, some scissor like pliers, two large syringes, a piece of piping, a small tin of denture adhesive powder, a larger tin of Clove Oil and indentations where other dental paraphernalia once lived.
‘Pity it’s not complete,’ said Ned. ‘I reckon there would be collectors out there that would pay a wad for it.’
‘Wow! An antique expert now are we?’ said Vicky.
‘Hey, don’t let this pretty face fool you, I’m an intelligent beast,’ he said throwing her a cheeky grin.
‘Keep telling yourself that,’ she said without raising her head. ‘Someone might actually listen to you one day,’ she said as she put a determined full stop to the Connected and Miscellaneous Property Form information.
She turned her head towards Dylan’s office. She saw him put the phone down and as he did so he pushed his chair back, stood and made his way towards them. ‘Well, boss do you think they fit the description of the items allegedly stolen from Timothy Woodcock’s house?’
‘I wonder what happened to the missing items?’ said Andy. He scratched his head.
‘That fishing line is of definite interest,’ said Dylan.
‘Annoyingly the manager has no idea when they were brought in or by whom?’ said Andy.
‘Yes, she does,’ said Dylan.
‘She does?’ said Vicky.
‘That was her on the phone,’ he said smiling. ‘Luckily for us a volunteer who’s just had a baby popped in and was privy to the conversation that she was having with another colleague. I’ve got the lady’s contact details here for you to follow up,’ he said handing a piece of paper to Vicky. ‘Let’s ask Jim Woodcock to look at the items and see if he can identify them as being his father’s. I’d also like Professor Stow to see them to give us his professional opinion on whether they might fit the bill. We might be getting somewhere if we can prove they are about the right era for the tools that were used in the murders. First get hold of CSI and see if Sarah or Karen are working. We need to get the fishing tackle and the dentistry items photographed before we send them to Forensic for the fishing line to be checked against our garrotte that was recovered at Alan Bell’s murder scene.’
‘Good idea, we can use the photographs whilst the items are being examined at forensic for our enquiries,’ said Ned.
‘Keep me posted.’ Dylan’s voice was excited.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Vicky’s phone call with Jim Woodcock was not as successful as she had hoped. He apparently didn’t think that he could be much use in identifying the stolen items which he hadn’t seen in a long number of years.
‘But, if you’d just take a look. It might just spark some sort of childhood memory.’
‘I’d rather not if you don’t mind. Why not ask my father to identify them for you?’ he said.
‘I don’t really want to bother him,’ she said. ‘I’m sorry to hear from the hospital today that his health has deteriorated.’
‘Try mother then or the prodigal pair.’
‘Pardon?’ said Vicky.
‘I’m sure Devlin will have seen them and Ginny for definite,’ he said.
***
Dylan sat with his elbows on his desk and his chin lightly resting on his hands that were clasped together in a fist. He appeared to be reading something on his computer screen when Vicky joined him.
‘It doesn’t add up,’ she said hurling herself down on a chair opposite him.
‘What doesn’t add up?’ he said moving his eyes to look at her; his head remained still.
‘Why would anyone burgle a house and then take the stuff they’ve stolen to a charity shop?’
‘A would-be Robin Hood?’
‘Do you know any burglar who has a charitable bone in their bloody body? And anyway why would anyone steal something if they didn’t want it in the first place?’
Dylan’s stare at the screen was persistent. His eyes flickered, then turned her way.
‘Think about it. From a thief’s point of view, even if in this unlikely of scenarios we have a charitable thief, it’s another chance that they could be caught and more than likely by way of CCTV these days, isn’t it? So wouldn’t the alleged thief, in reality just dump them somewhere if they wanted to get rid of them?’
‘It will be interesting if the volunteer who he handed them to can give us a description of the person who brought them in.’
‘Mmm...’ she said. ‘Edna Woodcock is over in West Yorkshire today with her daughter so I’m meeting up with them to see if they can help with the identification of the recovered items. If not, I’ll have to see how the land lies at the hospital to see if I can see Timothy Woodcock again. You seen Jen?’
‘No, not since I left this morning why?’
‘Oh, rumour has it that the powers that be are making all the civilians re-apply for their jobs.’
‘Again? You are joking?’
‘Nope. And Beaky...’
‘Ms Avril Summerfield-Preston to you,’ said Dylan with a lift of a brow.
‘I only call people who I respect by their proper names. Beaky, she’s causing an uproar upstairs in admin. Seemingly, she’s strutting about telling everyone that her job is the only one that’s safe here. Apparently, the cost-cutting doesn’t apply to the holder of the title of Divisional Administrator.’
‘Oh, and why am I not surprised? It’s a bit like the desk job twerp that decides the rank of Inspector and above should take a rise in pay instead of being paid overtime because their job is nine to five, no shifts, no weekends, no call outs...’
‘Jobs for the boys,’
said Vicky.
The telephone rang. It was Jen. Dylan pulled a face at Vicky and Vicky smiled at him.
‘Jen,’ she mouthed. He nodded. She left.
‘And as usual part-time workers will be the first to go, won’t they?’ Jen said.
‘Not necessarily,’ Dylan replied. ‘They will probably keep part-timers on hoping that they will work more hours for the love of the job.’
‘I’m afraid those days are long gone. Everyone knows the force has to save money but it’s the way the hierarchy go about it. They must think we’re stupid not to know what they are up to. It’s so blatantly bloody obvious!’
Dylan couldn’t help but smile. ‘What will be, will be,’ he said. ‘You know as well as I do that the names will be on the doors of the people they have selected to stay on so there’s no point getting yourself all worked up. It’s a waiting game for those who don’t want to leave.’
‘You know what will happen next don’t you? They’ll send their puppets out from headquarters like they did last time to play lip service to us. No, to bloody lie to us.’
Dylan remained silent.
‘Yes, well they shouldn’t be allowed to get away with it,’ she said.
‘No they shouldn’t, but they do, so it’s not worth getting out of bed over. Maisy okay when you left her at Chantall’s?’
‘No, she cried and wouldn’t let go of me and...’
‘You know she will be fine the minute you left.’
‘You’re right, you’re always right. Oh god, why the hell do I let them get to me? I think I need a holiday. Maybe we will go to Spain?’ Dylan could hear the teasing in her tone.
‘And maybe we won’t,’ he said adamantly.
***
Rajinder’s hand was on the door handle of his office door. ‘I’ve just been asked if we can go through to see some CCTV footage,’ she said. ‘It’s a possibility we have our man.’
Dylan jumped up.
‘The footage that is being examined is from earlier in the day of Alan Bell’s murder,’ she said, as side by side they walked briskly down the corridor.
The room where the CCTV footage was being viewed was known as the quiet room, due to the fact the officers worked behind closed doors in a quiet environment so they weren’t disturbed, even momentarily. Each and every one of them in there knew only too well that the slightest distraction could mean they missed a vital piece of information.
Minutes later Dylan was seated next to a detective constable.
‘Based on the fact that we had a fleeting glimpse of two men near the murder scene, one in a hoodie and one in a suit, I have been reviewing CCTV material covering the taxi rank from where Alan Bell worked for around an hour before he was murdered. I have found this.’
Dylan moved to the edge of his seat. Waiting anxiously, he looked at the officer’s finger willing it to press the play button.
***
John Benjamin was in the incident room. The charity shop volunteer who had taken the fishing and dentistry equipment from the donator was on the phone. ‘You want to know who brought it in?’ she said.
‘That’s right,’ said John. ‘Do you remember?’
‘Yes, I do, for two reasons. One, the man was very impatient and he leant over an elderly lady who was already standing at the counter to drop the black bag on the counter. And two, when I took a look inside the bag I remarked to the lady that it was surprising what people brought in for us to sell.’
‘We think they may have been stolen, so it would be really helpful if you could tell us anything you remember about the person?’
‘Oh gosh, I play the game Guess Who with my six-year-old granddaughter and she’s better at it than me. Don’t hold your breath...’
‘I play it with the kids and I’m rubbish too,’ said John. ‘I appreciate it’s not easy but if there is anything about them that you could remember, anything at all...?’
‘The man wasn’t young or old, he wasn’t fat or thin, his hair wasn’t blonde or black, he wasn’t scruffy or posh. He was just an ordinary looking twenty, thirty something guy, wearing what twenty, thirty something men wear, t-shirt, jeans and one of those hooded thingies.’
‘That’s good,’ said John.
‘Really?’ she said.
‘Really.’
‘Can someone come around to get a statement from you?’
‘Well, they can, but I can’t tell them anymore than I’ve told you,’ she said.
‘It would help if you would give us a statement,’ said John.
‘Okay then,’ she said. ‘No worries.’
***
Meanwhile Dylan was asking the detective in the quiet room to re-run the small amount of CCTV again, and again and again.
‘There... can we stop it just there?’ Dylan said. ‘Get me that still.’
Chapter Twenty-Four
Dylan had just watched a brief glimpse of a man in a hoodie amongst others who were relatively smart. The guy in the hoodie appeared on CCTV from two streets around the taxi rank. He was riding a bike and this appeared to be totally out of place in the town centre at that time of night. He kept his distance from the revellers – appearing to be nothing more than an onlooker to their enjoyment. Dylan was shown CCTV footage of the same man but this time on foot, an hour later. He stood half-in and half-out of a shop doorway leaning against its wall and facing the window. Here he could see the distinct mark on the shoulder of his hoodie. What had he done with his bike? His face wasn’t visible due to the fact he had his head down and his hood was pulled conspicuously forward. But it was a man in a suit who got into the taxi with the registration number of Alan Bell’s taxi at midnight.
Dylan asked for the screen to be frozen, took a closer look and patted the detective on the shoulder as he got up from the chair. ‘Good work,’ he said. ‘Can we get some stills for each time the man in the hoodie and the man in the suit is shown on CCTV and have those copied. I want a professional assessment to be made to show those two people are one and the same at each point.’
He felt slightly optimistic as he walked back into the incident room. He shared the recent development with the team at debrief emphasising that this news must remain within the room. The last thing he wanted was the killer disposing of clothing that could put him at the scenes; if he hadn’t done so already. Dylan was confident, find the wearers of those clothes and he would have his killer.’
‘The volunteer from the Forget Me Not charity shop has put a hoodie wearer as the man who brought in the items of interest. However that appears all she can tell us. I will task someone with going to see her and getting a statement,’ said John.
‘Could this really be our man?’ said Vicky.
‘Who knows? Any update on Edna Woodcock identifying the recovered items?’
‘No, they didn’t end up in West Yorkshire. According to her daughter she wasn’t having a good day,’ said Vicky with a grimace upon her face.
‘Okay, we’ll call it a day. I’ll see you all back here tomorrow morning for an eight o’clock briefing please.’
Ned looked across the room at Vicky. ‘There’s something about you that’s different,’ he said.
‘No fooling you is there my son,’ she said with a click of her tongue and a wink at her colleague. ‘I’ve got my dancing gear on,’ she replied eyes wide and bright.
‘You off out tonight then?’ he said.
‘You should be a bloody detective when you grow up.’
‘Funny ha ha! Can I come with you?’ he said watching her walk down the aisle between the desks in her short skirt and high heels.
‘If you must, but you’d better not show me up, lightweight,’ she said.
‘I’m no lightweight. I’ll show you. Give me a minute,’ he said reaching for his phone. ‘I’ll just ring the missus and tell her I’ve a job on.’
DS Raj picked up her shopping list for the supermarket. She rolled her eyes at Dylan.
‘Aren’t you just glad those days are over,’
she said.
Dylan chortled. ‘I sure am,’ he said with a yawn. ‘I’m looking forward to a good night’s sleep. Make sure they behave Andy,’ he said to DC Wormald as he passed the detective on his way out.
‘I’m not going sir. I’m doing a double-bubble.’
‘He’s offered to do a double shift,’ said Vicky. ‘No one made him.’
‘God help us tomorrow then,’ Dylan said to Raj, shaking his head at Vicky and Ned who were heading for the door.
***
Maisy was in fine form, singing happily as she sat alone in the lounge. Too busy to acknowledge her daddy’s homecoming while sticking stickers in a book. Dylan popped his head around the door. The smell emanating from the kitchen was delightful and he filled his lungs.
‘I’m home,’ he called as he opened the kitchen door.
His father-in-law stood up from where he had been sitting at the kitchen table. ‘I thought it was about time you met Thelma,’ Ralph said as he held his hand out to shake Dylan’s. His tanned face was smiling as he turned to his partner.
Jen entered the kitchen from the adjoining dining-room, cutlery in her hand, she was beaming. ‘Look who I found on our doorstep when I arrived home,’ she said putting her arm around her dad’s shoulders. She hugged him tight.
‘I hope you don’t mind the intrusion. We’ve just stepped off the plane from Spain,’ Thelma said. ‘My Ozzy had a delivery for a client in Harrowfield so we offered to bring it for him. And the best bit is I get to meet you three,’ she said.
‘And he was kind enough to pay for our flight,’ said Ralph.
‘A no brainer then,’ said Dylan putting down his briefcase on the table. Jen instantly removed it and walked into the hallway, standing it on the bottom step of the stairs. ‘Come on for your tea Maisy. You can watch the Nosey Paca’s afterwards on the television, if you’re a good girl,’ she said.
‘I’ll just go and change,’ Dylan said as he turned to leave. Thelma caught his arm and brought him to a standstill. He looked down at the seated little grey-haired lady. Two old, pale green eyes peered up at him. ‘I have a lot of time for the police. My son, he was presented a good citizen award from Hampshire Constabulary recently.’
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