An Urgent Murder

by Alex Winchester

  Searching the back of a small drawer in a filing cabinet, Paul took out the tiniest magnifying glass that John or Doreen had ever seen.

  “Is that the best you’ve got?”

  “It’s good enough for what I want” and he hovered it over the image of the van registered in Birdham.

  “There is some logo and sign writing on the side, but I can’t make out what it is because of the angle of the image.”

  Doreen, whose eyes were younger and use to small writing, took the magnifying glass, and told them it was the head of an animal, she thought a bird.

  Firing up the Sussex mapping system on his computer, Paul printed off three sheets showing the locations of each registered keepers address. Because it was nearer Lagness, John decided that he would check out the address at Birdham first: he knew he was due some luck.

  It came startlingly quickly from Doreen who was examining the PNC printout of the details of the registered keepers.

  She said, “I know this name: it’s the same last name as the woman at the book club who was very interested in the progress of the enquiry. Look at the first name of the keeper.”

  81

  Sunday 12th June 2011

  Doreen kept staring at the image of the van as it passed the ANPR camera alternating with the PNC printout. Neither John nor Paul spoke for fear of breaking her train of thought. She used the magnifying glass, and tilted the page with the image as though it would show a different view of the van and the side. Carrying it to the window, she turned it, held it up, lowered it, moved it away at arm’s length and then close to her eyes.

  “It’s a hawk. Hawkeye security systems: Birdham.”

  Paul snatched the picture from her and put it flat on his desk and with John glowered at the image, which neither could make out.

  “Jesus Doreen: how on earth could you see that?”

  “Reading practically unintelligible written statements of Police Officers gives you an eye for it.”

  She studied the PNC and said, “The surname is the same as the lady from my book club and I think I remember someone saying she lived in Birdham. I met her husband once when he picked her up from a meeting. Too much of a coincidence, and I know neither of you believe in them.”

  John said, “Have you heard of ‘Hawkeye’ before?”

  Doreen, who was firing up various programmes on her computer said, “No. I’ll see what I can find” and her fingers danced on the keyboard just like Murray’s did, except with a more delicate touch. Soon, a web site belonging to ‘Hawkeye Security Systems’ filled the screen with the home page displaying an image of a Harrier Hawk with the name of the firm emblazoned below it in red. The contact details were on the bottom of the screen, and married those recorded on the PNC. There were two pages showing images of houses with different sorts of alarm systems prominently displayed, and two pages of industrial premises, again with different alarm systems displayed. All were recorded as being ‘professionally and satisfactorily installed and maintained by Hawkeye Systems’.

  The last page gave details of servicing conducted on all known alarms by ‘Hawkeye Systems’ either yearly for a set retaining fee, or on an ‘as and when’ requirement. In slightly larger and bolder print, a call out service was offered. Paul asked Doreen to print off a complete copy of the web page for the file.

  “Just remember Paul, at the present time, I can’t say if it is the same van that I saw that night. I need to see the back of it to confirm either way.”

  At a later date and for lawful disclosure in court, he would confirm any identification made by him was as a result of the small hole in the rear nearside light cluster which showed a spot of white. As to how the hole had got there in the first place would remain a mystery as far as he was concerned. John could not explain the false index plates and hoped that later enquiries would resolve the issue. He would be able to confidently confirm, if asked in court, that he requested Murray to check for the rear view of white vans because that’s all he was looking for.

  More luck arrived their way very quickly afterwards in the shape of Murray as he burst into the room. John introduced him to Doreen as he knew Paul of old and needed no introduction there. Paul pulled up a spare chair and invited him to sit down as he looked perturbed, and offered him a drink. The Sergeant sat jadedly in the worn but comfy offered chair and eyeing the kettle and accoutrements sitting on a spare desk said he’d love a coffee and didn’t realise that drinks were permitted in the offices.

  As he was speaking, Prodow, again without Groves in tow, came into the room and seeing Paul preparing the kettle asked, “Got anything stronger? I’ve had a pig of a day. An old case is in court, and it isn’t going as it should.”

  Paul delved behind two box files on a shelf and produced a bottle of malt whiskey which had never been opened.

  “For celebrations, commiserations and when needed.”

  Doreen emptied the coffee from the cups back into the jar and took the tea bags out of the others. Luckily, she hadn’t added milk or sugar. She handed an empty cup to each of those present including Murray who took it rather hesitantly. Murray was not sure what to say with a senior officer in the room.

  Prodow just said, “Don’t mind me” and Murray no longer prevaricated.

  They all sat around Paul’s desk reverently holding mugs with at least two fingers worth of malt in each as Prodow was rapidly brought up to date.

  Murray said, “After seeing John I tried searching the database with the registration numbers and got no additional responses for the van from Birdham for the whole of that day. The other two hit lots of other cameras around Chichester. I thought I should check the index numbers of all three vans against any ANPR sightings a week either side of the day. The two vans registered to companies in Chichester were in and around West Sussex most week days and into the early mornings. The van from Birdham hit the same ANPR on Chichester bypass at eight odd times during the working days but no other cameras. It just seems to disappear.”

  He paused, breathed in the vapours emitted by the malt, and let a little of the liquid enter his mouth.

  “I decided to check all the enforcement cameras. That took a lot longer than I anticipated, but it reminded me about the video cars.”

  Prodow said, “What video cars?”

  “One of my probationers who I keep in touch with joined the traffic unit and is now a sergeant based here at the Chichester garage. I had a chat with him earlier and asked if any traffic cars were videoing that night. Several were and what they recorded has been downloaded to the independent traffic computer system.”

  “I have a feeling that you are likely to enforce a top up.”

  He continued, “I gave him the three vans’ index numbers which he has searched for. He had to view all the video they recorded because it is not a searchable database of index numbers, but because it was a van and only an hour period, it didn’t take him too long. A traffic car was returning to Chichester after dealing with an accident in Selsey when it recorded a van travelling in the opposite direction at a junction near Birdham.”

  Prodow said to Paul, “Get that bottle. I’ve a feeling I might be getting late turn CID to take me home tonight.”

  “It was the one registered to the Birdham address.”

  “I still need to check the back of it before we can say for sure.”

  “I asked my colleague if it was possible to get from the A27 to where the Police car videoed it without passing any ANPRs. He has access to the computer showing all the locations of every ANPR in Sussex at the same time. I hung on for a while as he worked it out and when eventually he came back on the line, he said, ‘Yes’.”

  82

  Sunday 12th June 2011

  Jimmy strolled back into the office just as Murray was leaving. Doreen, who was not a seasoned drinker, thrust a mug into his hand and poured more than a reasonable amount of malt into it.

  “What are we celebrating?” Doreen sat back behind her desk and waved her hand knowing it
was pointless for her to try and update him as she was struggling with her diction. The others were all regular drinkers and Paul updated him.

  Jimmy said, “Must be good news day. I have been with the toxicologist and the botanist. They have finalised their examinations and completed their statements. To summarise: it appears that what actually killed George was a combination of three different poisons. The main one being a small amount of cyanide which alone would probably have done for him due to his age and infirmity. It appears to have come from the crushed leaves of a passion flower which contain cyanogenic glycoside. They have been allowed to break down to produce cyanide. Then there was a honey type compound made from the nectar of Rhododendrons which produces grayanotoxins. Apparently, it used to be used as a poison but wasn’t very strong in this case although yet again, due to his age and infirmity, it may have just about done for him. Lastly, we have cytisine which is derived from Laburnum and induces convulsions, coma and death. However, it was so mild it would unlikely have been sufficient to kill him by itself.”

  They were all watching and listening to Jimmy in awe that he had it all in his head and didn’t need any notes.

  He took a gulp of malt and his eyes instantaneously watered, “Blimey. That’s strong.”

  Prodow said, “I’m worried about you. If any of your acquaintances die mysteriously, you’re going to be a very strong candidate as the culprit.”

  “Not me guv’nor, don’t like the idea of prison. By the way, the bottle in the shed contained the complete concoction.”

  “How did Munroe, if it was indeed her, make it and then get him to take a swig of it?”

  “The Botanist said all of the plants that have been utilised are common plants in English gardens. She believed the slight aroma emitted, mainly the almond type smell from the cyanide, could be disguised in something with its own strong taste or smell. Scotch for example.”

  Doreen put her mug down before she dropped it.

  Paul said, “So the Botanist was a ‘she’. No wonder you’ve been spending time there.”

  “I’m taking her to Blanc’s to show my appreciation for what she has done. I think it’s only right.”

  “Is she pretty?”

  “I don’t think that is at all relevant.”

  Jimmy handed the two statements to Paul and then retired behind his desk with the mug in his hand. He had finalised all the exhibits, and was preparing them for what he, like the others, believed was a pointless court hearing. Statement bundles had already been completed, and the two supplementary ones would have to be served as additional evidence. A complete set of disclosable evidence had already been prepared and had been provided to the defence. Enquiries from counsel had all been answered in the official manner. There was a full list of all the witnesses, and the running order that they were to be called. Everyone had been contacted, and their availability established. All of them hoped that an adjournment was obtained, but they were ready for a trial. If needed, they were in a position to go against a defendant who they had all come to believe was innocent.

  Prodow confided to Paul, but loudly enough for all to hear, that he was becoming very impressed with Sergeant Murray, and what was Paul’s attitude on him becoming his deputy. Paul quite liked the idea because he hardly ever got any time off when he was office manager on a protracted or confidential enquiry, and with a deputy, he would not be tied to constant working. Prodow said he would speak to Murray, and if he agreed, he would arrange with the station commander for him to be attached to see how he got on. With that, Prodow was gone to find the Sergeant.

  *

  Simon spent a long time in a house just a few hundred yards from the end of the passage seeing the wife of an old friend who had been killed during the second gulf war. They had been friends for years, and whenever he could, he would pop round for a chat. When either were attending any official gatherings, they would often ask the other to accompany them as their escort. There was nothing untoward or sexual in their relationship, but both were aware that tongues often wagged. Neither worried or cared as they were at ease in each other’s company. He easily explained that although it was nice to see her, he had used a visit to her in order to avoid a person who could cause him problems, and indicated the BMW as it cruised past. She took no snub at the fact, and asked if he wanted lunch.

  Eating a simple chicken salad, they chatted of long gone episodes, some happy, others sad. It was good therapy for both of them and Simon stayed a lot longer than he was going to. By late-afternoon, he left his temporary hide out, and walked back to the station and bought a ticket to Barnham. His attitude was simple, if Petrovski was still in Crawley and saw him, then so be it. He had no need to worry though as Petrovski was already back in Chichester being admonished for losing him. The smaller man was not sure if Petrovski was just inept, and there was nothing to fear now Simon had left on a one-way ticket, or he was totally incompetent and had been fed a simple dummy.

  Arriving at Barnham railway station, Simon walked out to the busy little taxi office and took a cab to the Nuffield Hospital in Chichester. Watching the taxi leave for its return journey: Simon started to jog towards Alison’s flat, taking a longer, completely different route to any he had taken before. His bag was on his back, and his butterfly knife was easily available should it be required. The nearer he got, the more cautious he became. He slowed to a walk and checked all about, but was sure he was alone as he entered the road with the completely empty lay-by. Walking along the cul-de-sac towards the steps he noticed nothing untoward, and he started to climb.

  Suddenly he felt something lightly touch his leg. Looking down he saw a black piece of cotton had been tied to the metal stanchions and stretched across the steps: but what he’d actually felt was Hannibal being affectionate. The cotton was practically invisible in the dappled light, and would have broken as he entered the front door. A low tech idea just like on the track to the barn which would let the setter know if anyone had passed by. He stepped over it, as Hannibal ducked under it, and they both entered the flat. By way of a reward, the cat was given two full tins of different cat foods which kept him happy for over an hour as he gorged himself excessively. Simon did not bother using the lights. It appeared that someone was still not sure of him.

  83

  Sunday 12th June 2011

  At 7.30pm after the so-called rush hour, John, who was close to the drink driving limit left the station in his old Vauxhall having first made sure it had not been tampered with, and made his way to Birdham. Reaching the road in question, John noted that all the properties were large detached houses set back on generous plots of land. Slowly driving along the quiet road, he located the one he was interested in. After a short distance, he parked half on and half off the kerb to allow any other vehicles to pass by relatively unimpeded, and got out. Walking back and past the open five bar gate leading to the property, he saw a reasonably new Ford Focus and a new Honda parked on the ornamentally tiled drive, and the white van facing him. He had a dilemma: did he enter the drive and go to the front door on some spurious reason in order to see the back of the van, or did he wait for it to leave, and check it then. In order to remain unobtrusive, he chose the latter option.

  It was not easy for him to find a parking place where he could see the drive unimpeded without being seen himself. In the end, he chose a place nearly a quarter of a mile away where he could make out any movement on the drive in the dying embers of the evening sunshine, and then check using his monocular as to which vehicle was manoeuvring. Overall, John was reasonably happy that he would not attract any unwarranted attention, and hunkered down to wait. As the light slowly faded, he started to struggle to keep his eyes open. Having been up half the previous night and with a fair amount of alcohol on board, he was feeling the combined effect. He began to hope nothing would move during the twilight hour because it would be harder to see than if it was completely dark when a vehicle would have to turn its lights on.

  As it happened, John had no t
rouble when the vehicle left the drive. Before it even moved, the drive was illuminated by two powerful flood lights that flashed on making it as bright as day as a figure left the front door. Watching through his monocular, John could see a male get into the van and his heart dropped a beat. He definitely looked similar to the person that had been at Georges bungalow in the middle of the night, but at this distance, John could not swear to it. The headlights came on, and the van turned out of the drive to approach his position. He waited with baited breath as the van drew nearer and then passed him.

  “Thank you, God,” said John under his breath.

  Considering that the van driver used quiet side roads, and appeared to dodge all ANPR’s, John was not contemplating trying to follow it. He started his car and set off back towards Chichester Police Station travelling back onto the main road. As he entered Birdham village on the main road with its half a dozen strewn out shops, he saw the van stationary and unattended outside the only Chinese take away restaurant. Skidding the Vauxhall to a halt by the side of the road, John jumped out of the car and opened the boot throwing his camouflage clothing out of the way as he opened his scanner box desperately looking for a bug.

  He knew he hadn’t more than a minute or two as he scurried forward having left his car with the lights on and unlocked. Inside the take away, John could see the back of the only male customer who was proffering a card in apparent payment and he saw a bag sitting on the counter. Moving into the road away from the side nearest the take away, John slapped the bug under the front wheel arch where it stuck. He kept walking across the road doing a looping turn and returning to his car. Before he had got back to the Vauxhall, the van had gone.