‘His clothing?’
‘It’s here,’ Vicky whispered, pointing to evidence bags at her feet.
‘Vicky Hardacre has them, sir, I understand.’
‘Yes, she’s just informed me,’ said Dylan.
‘I’ve some statements for you so I’ll drop them into your office within the hour.’
‘Brilliant, thanks for your efforts and see you soon,’ Dylan said.
‘Sounds like I’d better get my lippy on if that gorgeous Sarge’s coming,’ said Vicky raising her eyebrow in an impish fashion. She winked at him and tottered towards the ladies. He shook his head and Dennis smiled at him knowingly. What was he to do with her?
‘Hey, never mind lippy where’s the copy of the CCTV?’ Dylan shouted, after her.
‘It’ll be with you anytime now,’ Vicky called over her shoulder.
Jasmine glided through the door. As she saw Dylan her brown eyes lit up and her thin face broke into a smile. The petite SOCO supervisor’s long brown hair was tied in a high ponytail, which made her look younger than she normally did.
‘Boss, did you want to see the knife from the precinct incident?’ she asked.
‘Please,’ Dylan said, walking into his office. She followed close behind.
Dylan sat at his desk expectantly and she passed the sealed protective tube with the knife inside to him. Dylan looked at the prized object laid on his desk with interest.
‘I’ve swabbed it but surprisingly it doesn’t appear to have any blood on it; the lab will confirm that for you though.’
Dylan picked up the tube and held it in the air, studying it intently.
‘Oh my God are your eyes that bad?’ said Vicky, who had returned and was standing at his door. Her hair was brushed, her glossy lips puckered like she had just eaten something sour.
‘Cheeky mare,’ Dylan said, glancing towards her.
‘Well, you know what they say you should’ve listened to them when they told you it would make you blind,’ she chuckled. Jasmine blushed.
Dylan laughed. ‘My sight might not be brilliant lady, but if I’m not mistaken the very tiny tip of this blade just happens to be missing. Jasmine?’
‘You don’t miss much do you?’ she said, ‘and I’m convinced it’s the knife that was used on Greenwood and killed Denton.’
‘No.’ Vicky said, hurriedly walking towards Dylan to look for herself. Hearing the commotion, Dennis walked into the office doorway.
‘Ooh, wait on, I might have something that may help,’ Vicky said, turning quickly and running into Dennis in her rush to get the magnifying glass out of her drawer.
‘I knew this useless Christmas present from my Nan would come in handy one day,’ she said, fumbling around in her drawer.
Gathering around Dylan’s desk, they all stared in amazement at the picture of the tip Jasmine produced.
‘Coincidence or what?’ Vicky said, peering through the looking glass.
‘Well, fingers crossed that it can be proven later today?’ Dylan asked, Jasmine who nodded in the affirmative. ‘Let’s stay on the positive and assume it is ‘the’ knife’, but right now we need to find out who it belongs to before our man attacks anyone else. Let’s prioritise anyone returned to the care of the community and early releases – and let’s get that bloody CCTV Vicky pronto and see what this man looks like.’
‘Knife to the lab ASAP?’
‘Yeah, on its way now, sir,’ Jasmine smiled, as she disappeared through the doorway.
Dylan looked out of his window. Avril Summerfield-Preston, the Divisional Administrator, was getting into her car, parcel in hand.
‘She’s just going to visit Jen, she told me when I saw her just now in the loo,’ said Vicky. Dylan grunted.
‘For goodness sake, can’t the woman leave her alone she’s supposed to be resting,’
‘Welfare check.’
‘Welfare my arse, she’ll only go and upset her. Does Jen know she’s going?’
Vicky shrugged her shoulders.
‘I better ring her to warn her,’ Dylan said, picking up his mobile. The battery was dead. He took his charger out of his briefcase and was just about to plug it in when Dennis came charging into his office.
‘Boss, you might wanna have a look at this guy who has come back into the community recently,’ Dennis said, going back to his chair in the office and turning his computer screen around towards his audience. ‘Released on life licence at the beginning of last month,’ he read.
‘Frederick Gladwin Wainstall, twenty-nine years old who was sentenced to life imprisonment at the age of eighteen for murdering his parents, who died from multiple stab wounds,’ read Vicky.
‘He only served nine years. Nine bloody years and released on life licence which was revoked after wounding a stranger within weeks.’ Dennis read out his voice getting louder and louder with ever spoken word. ‘The weapon used; a knife.’ Dennis looked up into the faces of those who had gathered round him. ‘He’s back out.’
Dylan continued read to about Wainstall feverishly over Dennis’s shoulder. ‘No wonder the incident doesn’t ring any bells; it happened in Brighton,’ he said.
‘I don’t believe this, his parents were found with white lilies next to their bodies,’ Vicky said quietly.
‘Okay we need to pull out all the stops. Let’s get everyone looking for him. I want you to get hold of probation, prison, social services. We need an up-to-date photograph of him. What address have we got for him?
'It looks like we have a madman on the loose who may just be looking for his next victim – and I for one don’t want that to happen,’ said Dylan.
It was like lighting a blue touch paper. There needed to be a sense of urgency throughout the building, in the town and villages surrounding Harrowfield. Dylan looked as a recent image of Wainstall sent by email from the prison. He printed it and carefully soaked up the man’s features. He had a shaven head, clean-shaven face except for what looked like a small goatee beard on his chin. His deep-set dark staring eyes looked vacantly back at him.
‘Brian Stevenson’s custody clock is running away with us, sir,’ said the officer from the cells who burst into the CID office, only to be met by a group of silent people crowded around the photograph.
‘Yes, yes. DS Benjamin and DS Spiers will be with you shortly,’ Dylan snapped.
The officer retreated out of the door leaving it swinging in his path.
‘Only trying to help,’ he mumbled. ‘If we don’t tell them they shout at us. If we tell them they shout… Can’t do right for doing wrong,’ he grumbled as he made his way back to the custody suite.
‘Did we get a statement off the woman who rang in about the flowers being taken off the railings?’ asked Dylan. Vicky and Dennis looked blank. ‘Check. If not, let’s get that done.’
Vicky nodded.
‘The McDonalds' CCTV, have you viewed that yet for around the time when Denton and Greenwood were in there?’ Dylan asked Dennis.
‘No, not yet you told me to concentrate on prison releases,’ Dennis said.
Dennis took the envelope from his tray with the CCTV video enclosed and slotted it in the machine. He looked at the monitor then back at Dylan with a startled expression upon his face.
‘Look, that’s him; sat in the corner, the man in the wool hat holding the flowers,’ he said
‘Let’s get the video to Imaging and get it enhanced,’ said Dylan, with more than a hint of urgency in his voice.
‘Traffic’ll get it there at speed, Vicky.’
‘Traffic’ll do what?’ asked Sergeant Wilson.
‘My hero,’ said Vicky.
‘What?’ he asked, with a puzzled look on his face.
‘Oh, nothing, ignore her,’ Dylan said. ‘Get this to HQ will you mate ASAP. And take Hardacre with you. She’s about as useless as a glass hammer to me at the moment,’ he said quietly, winking at Sergeant Wilson. ‘And she’ll be able to fill you in on the way,’ said Dylan.
‘Sure,’ Serg
eant Wilson smiled at Vicky.
‘That okay with you?’ asked Dylan.
‘Is it ever.’ she said grabbing her bag and rushing after Sergeant Wilson as he headed for the door with the CCTV footage in his hand.
‘And see if you can persuade her to take her bloody Sergeant's exams while you’re at it.’ Dylan called after them.
Sergeant Wilson raised his hand as he looked over his shoulder at Dylan.
Within the hour Dylan had viewed the CCT seized from the town centre precinct. It showed a man running around the corner onto the precinct. He stops, looks around. James Drinkwater emerges from the florist with a bunch of flowers in his hand. Suddenly, for no apparent reason the man begins to run after him, pulling two knives out of his coat pockets. He stabs James in the back with one, turns, and runs away.
‘He’s wearing a wool hat,’ said Dennis.
‘The witnesses got that right. But look at his footwear,’ Dylan said pointing to the brilliant white training shoes the man was wearing on the screen.
They let the tape run, but it didn’t show the attacker’s face. With fumbling hands Dennis quickly swapped the tape for the CCTV tape recovered from Union Street where the knife had been found.
‘It doesn’t get much better than that,’ Dylan said, with a smile, as they viewed a clear picture of a man dropping a knife in the bin from where the officer had recovered it. He looked up directly into the camera. The man didn’t quite have a goatee beard but what looked like a bad case of acne and unshaven hair on his chin.
‘It’s Wainstall.’ came the chorus of voices.
‘That’s for sure,’ said Dennis.
‘Let’s get his picture printed off and get him found. Remind people he’s dangerous and is likely to be in possession of a knife that he won’t hesitate to use. We don’t want any more stabbings’
The incident room telephone rang. Lisa answered it and listened intently. She put the phone down as if in slow motion.
‘Yes?’ said Dylan.
‘The hospital, sir,’ she said. All eyes were on Lisa’s grave face. ‘Billy Greenwood lost his fight for life a few minutes ago’.
Chapter 49
Dylan hadn’t heard from Jen. His phone charged enough to have a signal, he turned it back on. It beeped a message. He didn’t recognise the number. Taylor stumbled into Dylan’s office door and dropped the evidence bags she’d been carrying.
‘Shit.’ Dylan heard her cry.
‘More haste, less speed, don’t they say?’ said Dylan as he rose from his chair behind the desk. John opened the door and guided an unsteady Taylor inside.
‘You okay? Come in,’ he said.
‘Flaming heels, they’ll be the death of me,’ she said, standing on one leg as she removed the offending broken shoe. Her concern only fuelled the cruel sting of embarrassment.
‘Am I glad to see you two,’ Dylan said, with a sigh of relief as he looked at his dirty and exhausted DSs. Taylor dumped the bags of property seized from Brian Stevenson’s hotel room on Dylan’s desk, then fell unceremoniously into a chair.
‘You look just about all in.’
‘Nothing that a strong cup of coffee won’t put right,’ said John. ‘You should have seen the hotel room, boss. It was like a haul from a jeweller’s, plus sixty grand we reckon, in cash.’
‘How do you two feel about going into interview?’ Dylan asked tentatively.
‘You’re joking, aren’t you? I can’t wait to see what Stevenson’s got to say for himself,’ said Taylor. Her face was flushed and her eyes lit up with anticipation.
‘Me too, there’s a lot for him to explain away,’ added John. Dylan saw the bags that had formed under his eyes in the past few weeks and he knew he was feeling the strain of the enquiry.
‘I’m told it’s Lin Perfect from Perfect and Best that’s awaiting your call to attend to represent her client – so let’s get cracking, shall we? Remember keep an open mind and don’t accept the first thing that he tells you.’
Dylan intently watched the live stream footage of the interview on the monitor in his office. He could hear his heart beating with anticipation but as a higher tier trained interviewer he missed the face-to-face confrontation and psychological battle on a regular basis.
The two detective sergeants appeared before him on the screen and Dylan shuffled in his seat. He leaned closer to the screen. He saw Brian Stevenson sitting alongside his solicitor.
‘For the purpose of the tape,’ John said. ‘Please can you give me your name?’
In unfaltering, clear voices, the financial advisor and solicitor spoke their names clearly. The interview commenced. Dylan shook his head; he would never understand the reason for the caution. Why would anyone but the British put a suspect in an interview room, wanting them to admit to an offence and then spend time telling them that they don’t have to say anything?
Firstly, John went over Brian Stevenson’s background before asking him to explain where he was going when they had found him in his hotel room and account for the large amount of money he had with him along with the numerous bejewelled rings.
Stevenson didn’t answer any of the questions put to him. He stared at them, never blinking, never taking his eyes off them, never showing an ounce of emotion.
Taylor was to play the friendly cop to encourage cooperation by Stevenson in building his trust in her as opposed to John, the aggressor. John pushed the issue of the murder of Mildred Sykes and the silver carriage clock.
It was obvious to Dylan that Stevenson didn’t like the way John put things to him in a manner that he was made to face the facts. The response was still the same. The two detectives now knew that Lin Perfect had advised Stevenson not to answer questions put to him as he ‘no commented’ repeatedly. They were prepared however to ask everything that Dylan had planned for them to ask, giving him the opportunity to answer. If not, at a later stage, the solicitor could argue that her client would have replied if the questions had been put to him.
They meticulously asked every question. Dylan was pleased. Some questions that were put to Stevenson provoked a flicker of something in his eyes. Every now and then Stevenson ran his hand distractedly through his hair.
For the forty-five minutes duration of the tape, Stevenson managed to remain silent while under extreme pressure, which Dylan knew wasn’t an easy thing to do. He didn’t appear unduly fazed. They would take a thirty-minute break.
From the confines of his office, Dylan saw Sergeant Wilson arrive in the incident room. He knocked at the door, Dylan bid him entry and he took a seat after placing the paperwork and exhibits from the hospital on Dylan's desk. Within seconds, Vicky entered with coffee for the men.
‘He deserves this, boss. He’s been working ever so hard,’ she said. Dylan smiled. Sergeant Wilson blushed.
‘Oh, have you got it bad girl?’ Dylan laughed when Sergeant Wilson excused himself to go to the rest room.
In typical Vicky fashion, she brushed her long blonde hair over her shoulders with a flick of her hand and looked at Dylan through her fringe, smiling. On his return, Dylan gave them the update on Wainstall and a copy of his mugshot.
‘I’ll get his description circulated on a bulletin on the intranet to all relevant areas for PCs and PCSOs to look out for him, boss. He shouldn’t be that difficult to find if he’s still out and about,’ said Sergeant Wilson, looking at Vicky and smiling as he spoke.
‘We haven’t found him yet though,’ Dylan said.
‘Do you know, I think that CCTV footage is one of the saddest things I’ve ever seen,’ said Vicky, emotionally charged. ‘How could anyone stab a kid like that for nothing?’ she said.
‘Looking at the tape, it’s apparent he had two knives. One we’ve recovered, but the other? The likelihood is that he still has one with him, so be sure to remind everyone how bloody dangerous he is,’ Dylan said.
Sergeant Wilson got up to leave. ‘I’m on with it sir.’
‘Be seeing you soon, Sarge,’ said Vicky. Ser
geant Wilson nodded at Dylan and smiled fondly at Vicky.
‘Bit too obvious, mate,’ whispered Dylan.
‘You think so?’ she cringed, as she sat on the chair facing Dylan, swinging her legs. She sprung up, smiled and glided out of the office.
Dylan shook his head.
To give John a break and allow him to nip home and see the family, Dylan agreed to stand in for him on the second interview with Stevenson. A different face might get a different response from him, occasionally he knew it did. On impulse, Dylan grabbed the crucial exhibits recovered from the hotel room to take in with him.
Taylor opened up the interviews after the usual caution. Stevenson once again sat staring at the detectives and didn’t respond to the change of personnel.
Dylan sat quietly watching every twitch on Stevenson’s face.
‘You were the last person to see Mildred Sykes alive according to her neighbours and on your own admission.
You took her a bunch of white lilies, didn’t you?’ said Taylor.
Stevenson didn’t respond.
‘Mr Stevenson, the purpose of an interview is to ascertain the truth. If you have nothing to hide, I can’t understand why you refuse to answer our questions,’ she continued.
Two blank faces looked at Dylan and Taylor from the other side of the table. Lin Perfect made a note in her book. ‘Inspector, it is my client's right to remain silent if he so wishes,’ she said, raising her eyes to look at him.
Dylan cleared his throat. ‘I understand that, and you will understand that it is my duty to put the allegations in order to him to give him the opportunity to respond,’ he said. He turned his head to address Stevenson. ‘So, do you agree you saw Mildred Sykes?’ said Dylan. Stevenson stared directly into his eyes. ‘Well?’ said Dylan, raising his voice. The pair jumped. Taylor suppressed a smile.
‘You know I did,’ said Stevenson, quietly hanging his head. Dylan was pleased he’d spoke, but hoped he would continue to do so.
‘According to reports handed to your solicitor,’ Dylan said nodding in Lin Perfect’s direction. ‘It was about that time that she died. We know of no other visitors after you left. Your fingerprints are all over the house. Can you tell me why?’ Dylan said eagerly. Brian Stevenson brought his hands up to his face and rubbed it vigorously.
White Lilies Page 25