White Lilies

by Bridgestock, RC

  Vicky re-entered the room. ‘Boss, Billy Greenwood’s been taken back into theatre, he’s got internal bleeding,’ she said. ‘It doesn’t sound good.’

  ‘Bloody hell.’ said Dylan. ‘Has he said anything?’ he asked, anxiously.

  She shrugged her shoulders. ‘Not that I know of, sir.’

  ‘It sounds like it’s highly likely he’s not going to be able to help us now.’

  Dylan rang Jen as he left the building, ‘Setting off now love, what’s for tea? Please don’t tell me it’s McDonalds?’ he laughed.

  ‘As if. I’ll give you McDonalds. Get yourself home’.

  ‘On my way, boss.’

  ‘Shall we discuss baby’s names? Dylan asked, as he yawned loudly.

  ‘Let’s wait to see if your eyes are still open when I’ve finished washing the pots first,’ Jen said, rolling her eyes as she handed him his coffee cup.

  ‘Yeah, good plan,’ he said. Stretching, he yawned yet again as he stood on his tiptoes and touched the kitchen ceiling.

  ‘If I’ve got my eyes closed when you come in I might be just having two minutes,’ he smiled as he rubbed his tired eyes.

  Jen unpacked the bags of clothes that she had bought and folding them lovingly, she laid them out in the drawers of the nursery. She touched the border that they had bought as the basis for the rest of the decor and a warm feeling ran through her body. It was a good thing that they’d had a decorator in to paint the walls, if she’d waited for Dylan she knew she would have waited forever.

  Perhaps this could be her ‘happy place’ in which she could take herself mentally during the birth. It was hard to believe that before her next birthday, before Christmas, she would be ‘mummy’.

  The clock struck ten. Jen woke Dylan.

  ‘Bedtime, sleepy head,’ she whispered as she shook his arm so they could go to bed. ‘I think we’ll just call the baby Buttons for now shall we?’

  ‘Suits me,’ he grinned, sheepishly.

  Chapter 42

  Dylan’s priority today was no different from yesterday's; to trace, interview and eliminate the main suspects.

  ‘Boss, you know we’ve spoken before about the significance of white lilies?’

  ‘Yes, Vicky.’

  ‘I’ve been thinking.’ Dylan raised an inquisitive eyebrow.

  ‘There’s nothing unusual for lilies to be sent in bouquets or to funerals is there, but left beside the body at the scene of a murder, that’s sick isn’t it?’ Do you think the white lilies are the murderer's MO? There are lots of lilies, aren’t there? And these might be bought in by a particular florist or supermarket.’

  Dylan looked thoughtful.

  ‘We got pictures of the flowers, I know, but did we get samples? Could they be one and the same type?’

  ‘Yes, I put them in an evidence bag myself at the scene, don’t you remember?’

  ‘Yeah, You hate the smell, right? Anything’s possible. It might just be the missing link we’re looking for. I’ll have that line of enquiry allocated to you. We’ll make an SIO out of you yet,’ he smiled. Vicky smiled sweetly at Taylor. Taylor scowled. Why hadn’t Vicky told her about her stupid thought – or better still kept it to herself, she wondered?

  ‘I’ll have to speak to one of those horticut, horticult … oh, you know what I mean, them there flower experts,’ Vicky said, with renewed vigour in her voice.

  ‘Yeah, you do that,’ said Dylan.

  ‘Why don’t you see what Linda Forrester can tell you about white lilies? Unless you’ve already done that, of course Taylor?’

  ‘No,’ Taylor’s mutterings were barely audible.

  ‘No worries sir, I’ll do it,’ Vicky said with a gleaming smile.

  Dylan checked his watch. ‘Okay you lot. Let’s see what today brings. Keep in touch and we’ll debrief at five.’

  Dylan checked for himself that scenes of crime had photographed the white lilies found in Denton and Greenwood’s flat and swabbed them for a pollen sample. He also made sure enquiries were initiated to ascertain where the lilies for Grace and Winston’s funeral were purchased from and what type they were.

  Stevenson bought the flowers for Mildred and Grace – they already knew that, so on his admission they would have come from Linda Forrester’s stock. Just how many types of white lily were there? They’d have to locate the source of the white lilies at Bridey and Toby’s funeral too, if possible. It was obvious the Forresters had a connection with white lilies through their florist. He’d leave nothing to chance. Vicky’s suggestions had stimulated his mind.

  Dylan strolled down the corridor of the first floor of the police station to attend the uniform briefing. Catching the officers at the start of their shift meant he could update them about the investigations himself.

  He knew uniform appreciated the time the SIO took on an enquiry to brief them first hand to keep them in the loop, and as far as he was concerned they were the eyes and ears of the police force at street level, for the next eight hours at least.

  ‘Although there are lots of lines of enquiry, I want you to bring me hard and fast evidence,’ he told his attentive audience. ‘Then it’s our job in CID to meticulously sift through that evidence to make sure we haven’t missed or overlooked anything.’

  The shift personnel hung on his every word. ‘Billy Greenwood’s out of surgery and back on ICU so I’ll need one of you on guard at his bedside today,’ he said, as he watched their eyes turn from his gaze and fall on their pocket books. No one wanted to guard a prisoner in hospital.

  ‘You never know,’ he added. ‘Greenwood might just wake up and give you the information to nail the killer.’ With that, a few hopeful faces lifted their heads to look at him and he saw a spark of interest in their eyes for the job in hand. ‘If, he talks, you will simply need to record what he’s saying. Remember, no questions though. He’s not under caution.’

  Dylan picked up his ringing phone the moment he got back to his desk.

  ‘Hello. Ralph, is that you?’ he asked, leaning heavily on his desk. Lisa walked in his office with a drink and he took hold of the mug.

  ‘Yeah Jack, how are you?’

  ‘Fine, and Dawn and baby Violet?’ he said, switching on his computer, absentmindedly.

  ‘Baby’s great. Dawn’s still tired, the pills make her feel weary.’

  ‘And how’re you bearing up?’

  ‘Oh, coping, you know,’ he said with a sigh. ‘But what I’m ringing for is the doctor has given her another month’s sick note so I wondered if I should send it to HQ?’

  ‘Has welfare been in touch?’

  ‘Yeah, but to be honest her day out with Jen shopping for baby clothes did her more good. They mean well but…’

  ‘Yeah, I know.’

  ‘The doctors say the anti-depressants will kick in and the Diazepam does help her feel less anxious but it makes her feel numb too. As for the court case Jack, she says she wouldn’t miss it for the world, so that’s optimistic.’

  Dylan heard the lump in his throat and imagined him holding back the tears.

  Putting the phone down, Dylan felt useless. In this situation there wasn’t a thing he could do to help his old friend and colleague. Fancy, after trying so long for a child, the IVF and now this. Sometimes life just didn’t seem fair.

  Dylan needed a distraction. It was all too easy to get sucked into the sadness of others. He had been ignoring Liz in the press office and there seemed like no better time than the present to take the bull by the horns as he picked up his phone and called her.

  The full facts spewed from his mouth of the two young men being subjected to a ferocious and callous knife attack in their own home. He released their names and he told Liz that Danny Denton had died at the scene, while disclosing that his friend Billy Greenwood was critically ill in hospital after receiving multiple stab wounds in the frenzied attack. He appealed for witnesses and, to reduce the public’s fear, he told them this was an isolated, targeted attack. As usual he gave out the incid
ent room telephone number and Crimestoppers contact number for any information that the public felt they could share.

  Another day had quickly passed without success. Still no suspects were traced or eliminated – and now it was time for the daily debrief.

  ‘I’ve spoken to Mrs Forrester and made an appointment to see Bill Forrester tomorrow when he arrives home,’ said Taylor Spiers.

  ‘Good, at least that’s two suspects traced,’ said Dylan.

  ‘Actually three, sir. Donald Harvey contacted me, and he’s travelling north tomorrow to see me,’ Taylor smiled.

  ‘Great. Was there anything that Linda Forrester could enlighten you with regarding the white lilies?’

  ‘No, she says they’re a common flower and used daily at funerals. Hers are bought in from a local wholesaler that also supplies the supermarket, so there’s not much chance of that action coming to anything,’ she said. Taylor raised her brows from the paper she was reading and cocked her head at Vicky as she threw her a smug grin. Dylan couldn’t help but notice.

  ‘But’ she continued. ‘I’ve also learned quite a lot today from the horticulturist. Even how to pronounce their name,’ she said.

  Taylor rolled her eyes, ‘Oh, please,’ she muttered.

  ‘I didn’t know this floral malarkey was so interesting,’ she said. ‘The experts are telling me that there are quite a few common species of the Lilium Candidum, bulbs and flowers of the lily plant are used for therapeutic purposes. Stargazer lilies are an ideal way to convey your condolences, and the modern funeral tributes, peace lilies, or Spathiphyllum, are very popular for that. Mind you, Lily of the Valley, also known as Mayflower, is poisonous.’

  ‘You sound like Alan Titchmarsh,’ Taylor said, snidely.

  ‘But seriously,’ Vicky continued, ignoring the DS’s comment. ‘They were fairly sure if the same lily had been used in all the incidents and because we have pictures and, even better, swabs of the pollen, we will be able to track down the source for them,’ she said with a nod at Taylor.

  ‘Hold your hands out,’ said Dylan.

  ‘What?’ Why?’ Vicky said holding her palms upwards for him; her brow furrowed and quizzical look.

  ‘Just checking in case you’ve got green fingers,’ he said, checking the tips of her fingers. ‘I think that perhaps you’re the best person to see if there is anything of credence in respect of the lilies that might take us forward in that line of the enquiry,’ he said, slapping her palms. ‘Well done Vicky.’

  ‘Thank you sir,’ she said, as her cheeks flushed high.

  ‘Okay, flower power or elbow grease, I’m not bothered – whatever it takes, as long as we find the people responsible. Another day tomorrow to chase our suspects,' he said with a sigh. 'Let’s make tomorrow the day, everyone.’

  There were still a lot of unanswered questions and tomorrow Dylan would go back and look at each incident in isolation. He was always conscious that something may have been inadvertently overlooked.

  I’m on my way, he texted Jen, as promised. He knew better than anyone that there were no quick fixes to any enquiry. And he knew that every hour that passed meant less chance of recovering evidence. Where the hell was Graham Tate?

  Chapter 43

  The day started on the positive note that two of the people sought would be seen.

  Dylan was scheduled to go to Brian Stevenson’s home and a nominated team was to execute the warrant that had been sworn out for them at the local Magistrate’s home by the evening divisional detective, DS John Benjamin. DS Taylor Spiers would start the search with the rest of the team, however Dylan couldn’t assign them specific tasks as he needed them to be available to go see Bill Forrester and Donald Harvey as soon as they got word they were back in the area. The three also needed to be ready and able to respond in the event Brian Stevenson was detained or Graham Tate returned home. Dylan was also mindful to ensure that none of the tasks were rushed due to the deployment

  ‘I want a thorough search,’ Dylan told the team as he stood on a box so he could be seen and heard at the short briefing in the void of the police station, before they set off in convoy. ‘Carpets rolled back, furniture and drawers pulled out. If anything is hidden, we need to make sure we find it.’

  The nominated exhibits officer made the dining room table his temporary desk at Stevenson’s home – a central point where people could bring him the items they had seized to be recorded with details of where they were found, by whom, the time, date and the said exhibit numbered for easy retrieval. Should a court case develop against anyone, then all the collated items would have to be disclosed to the relevant parties.

  ‘Make sure his rubbish bins inside and out are emptied and checked,’ he told Taylor. ‘Find me all his bank details if you can, John,’ Dylan shouted as Benjamin turned to climb the stairs. Dylan looked at his retreating figure, a fixed and alert expression on his determined face.

  ‘There’s a secured filing cabinet in his office, boss,’ he called down within minutes. Dylan took the stairs two at a time.

  ‘Break the lock if you have to,’ he called ahead.

  Once items had been seized and recorded, there would be a careful sifting of the relevant items. This didn’t stop the officers from noting details to make immediate enquiries if they felt it necessary. The search was now in full flow and Dylan watched his officers working quietly and diligently to accomplish their actions. Taylor’s mobile rang.

  ‘Bill Forrester’s arrived home,’ Taylor yelled to Dylan.

  Bill, Linda and Pam Forrester sat waiting for the officers on the sofa in the middle of their large antique-cluttered lounge. A suitcase on wheels stood in the corner with a set of golf clubs on a trolley next to it, Taylor noted.

  Pam clutched one hand to her chest, the other to her belly and her mouth gaped when DS Taylor Spiers broke the news of Danny’s murder.

  ‘Oh, my God,’ she simply said, turning to her mother. Linda followed her daughter as she ran out of the room. Pam’s footsteps could be heard running up the stairs and Linda’s close behind. A door slammed shut.

  ‘I’m sorry Mr Forrester, but there is no easy way of imparting news of a murder,’ said John.

  ‘I’d have hoped she’d be jumping up and down after what they put her through,’ said Bill, his face pinched but his complexion ruddy. ‘Pity whoever did it didn’t do it earlier, they could have saved us a lot of heartache.’

  ‘I’m sorry to have to ask you this,’ Taylor said, tentatively. ‘But we need to verify your movements for the past forty-eight hours, for obvious reasons.’

  ‘Of course,’ he said. He glanced down at his hands, clasped in his lap, and shook his head. ‘I’m sorry,’ he said. There was a moment when no one breathed. ‘I wish I had the guts to do it, but I haven’t; not even for my daughter. What kind of a man does that make me?’

  ‘We can’t find Denton’s mobile. It may be the murderer took it,’ John said.

  ‘Oh no,’ Bill Forrester groaned, his face in his hands. ‘The pictures they took of Pam; they might still be on there? If they are put in the public domain who knows who might see them? This could push her over the edge.’

  ‘Well we presume it’s the same phone, we don’t know of him having another,’ said John.

  ‘As if the attack on Pam wasn’t bad enough, the thought that someone out there has those pictures of her naked is too painful to think about,’ Forrester said, with tears in his eyes. ‘Hasn’t she, haven’t we all been through enough?’ he said, searching the officers' dour faces.

  ‘We are doing our best to trace whoever is responsible. There doesn’t seem any logical explanation why anyone would take the phone – unless,’ Taylor said.

  ‘Unless what?’ Bill Forrester stared at Taylor and tried to read her face, it looked stressed. He stared into her eyes and froze for a good few seconds. ‘Hold on a minute, you think I might have killed him don’t you? Let me tell you, I’d do anything for my daughter – and I mean anything,’ he said, his eyes bul
ging in their sockets. ‘And to be honest I can’t honestly tell you…’ he said, gulping for air, ‘how I’d react if I’d come across them. In fact,’ he added, rising from his chair. ‘I’d even go as far as to say I’d shake the person’s bloody hand that did it.’ He ran his hand through his hair and paced the room. John Benjamin held his hand up.

  ‘We can understand, Mr Forrester, how upset you are,’ John said. ‘But we’re just doing our best to catch the killer and we have to eliminate anyone with a motive,’ he emphasised.

  ‘Not if she thinks I did it you aren’t. Can you even begin to imagine how we feel at the moment? Do you have a daughter that’s been raped? Do you?’ he said with venom. Taylor physically flinched at the emotion in his words.

  ‘Everybody is a suspect Mr Forrester until we find out who did it, and we will. Remember, we’ve spent years dealing with victims of crime so we do know how badly people feel. We really aren’t immune to it all,’ said John.

  ‘Of course,’ Bill Forrester said, taking a seat once more. ‘I’m sorry. It’s just the thought of naked pictures of my daughter being out there. Will you let me tell Linda and we’ll explain to Pam. She’s very distressed as you can see – and who knows what this will do to her?’

  ‘Of course,’ said John.

  Together they sat and painstakingly went through Mr Forrester’s movements over the past few days. John looked at Taylor’s face. There was no doubt in his mind that they would be able to confirm his account of events as being true. Linda and Pam entered the room once more; the mother’s arm around the daughter’s shoulders protectively. Quietly, and without a fuss they sat back down on the sofa.

  ‘Do you know a Brian Stevenson who lives at the bottom of your road?’ Taylor asked.

  ‘Yes, he’s a customer of mine,’ said Linda, looking surprised.