‘What were you looking for?’
It was now or never.
‘We have paper evidence that tells us you’d already taken large amounts of money from her. Does the jewellery that’s been recovered – for the purpose of the tape, DS Spiers is showing Brian Stevenson the rings they recovered from the hotel room Mr Stevenson was arrested in earlier today – belong to her?’
Stevenson glanced at the rings on the desk in the plastic bags.
‘Well, does it?’ Dylan said impatiently.
‘Multiple questions, Inspector,’ Lin Perfect interrupted.
‘Feel free to answer any of them, Mr Stevenson,’ Dylan fired back. ‘Start with your prints on her bedside drawers, eh?’
‘I helped her look for things,’ Stevenson stammered.
‘What things?’
‘All sorts of things,’ he said obviously agitated.
‘Like what?’
‘Look, I was just about her only visitor, her only friend, so if she needed anything, I’d help.’ Stevenson said.
‘Friend? Is that what you call yourself?’ Dylan stopped and checked himself before resuming the mask of the hardened detective. ‘So, how did she get her head injury?’ Dylan said in a quieter fashion.
Brian Stevenson shrugged his shoulders.
‘Don’t you see that’s why you’re sitting where you are? I think you should think very carefull about your situation, Brian.’
The room went silent. Dylan knew that neither Taylor nor he would break that silence. A minute passed. Dylan could almost see Brian Stevenson’s brain working, considering his options. Stevenson looked sideways at Lin Perfect. She stared at him long and hard. It was the look of a parent to a child to behave, or else. She opened her mouth to speak and Dylan held his hand up to stop her. Stevenson turned to Dylan.
‘When I called to see her, she had already fallen and hurt her head. She refused to let me get any medical attention for her. She was a stubborn old thing, just like my mother used to be,’ he said with tears in his eyes. ‘I went back to see her the next day to make sure she was alright and took her the flowers to cheer her up but she was already dead. I was shocked, shaken,’ he swallowed, ‘afraid I would get the blame. That’s why I haven’t said anything before. I was frightened, old people die in their homes all the time don’t they? So I thought it was best to let her be found by someone else other than me.’ Stevenson said. He stopped talking momentarily. ‘There was nothing I could have done for her.’
Dylan and DS Taylor Spiers remained silent. The tape purred on. By remaining quiet and listening, Dylan hoped Stevenson would continue.
‘She was undeniably dead. I was sure she was, otherwise I would have called for an ambulance,’ he said, tears now rolling down his cheeks.
‘Do you know where she’d fallen?’ asked Dylan.
‘I think she had fallen down the stairs,’ he said, thinking aloud as he looked up at the ceiling and inhaled deeply. ‘Yes,’ he sniffed. ‘I think that’s what she said.’
‘And you didn’t push her?’ Dylan said.
‘No,’ Stevenson said. ‘No, I didn’t push her.’
‘You understand we’ve got to ask the question.’
‘Yes, but I didn’t,’ Stevenson got a handkerchief out of his pocket and wiped his tearstained face.
‘Okay, then. Now, do you remember the silver carriage clock that we asked you about earlier?’ For a minute Brian Stevenson looked bewildered by the question. He physically shook himself. ‘Yes, yes I do. It was stolen from my house. That clock was the reason I knew my house had been burgled.’
‘If that’s the case, why do we have a photograph of Mildred Sykes with that same clock behind her on her mantlepiece?’
Stevenson stared once more through the detectives and made no reply.
‘And can you explain why Mildred Sykes’s fingerprints are on that clock?’
Stevenson’s face blanched, but he made no reply.
‘Well?’
Dylan waited for a reply that never came. ‘You robbed an old lady of her savings, her personal belongings and when you had bled her dry you battered her to death, didn’t you? Her injuries were not as a result of a fall, as you would have us believe, but as a direct result of being hit over the head with a ferocious blow by you. It was the same system you’d used on Grace Harvey and I wonder how many more old people? It was unfortunate for you, wasn't it, that Grace’s death was around the same time that Mildred was found, so you had to think of getting away and had obtained another name.’
Brian Stevenson fidgeted for a moment, swivelled round on his chair and turned to face the other way.
‘You can turn your back. You can remain silent. What you can’t do is change the facts, which are that you befriended, robbed and beat to death a defenceless old lady. You’re nothing but a greedy, evil man,’ Dylan spat.
Suddenly Stevenson turned and opened his mouth, his eyes wide, his face contorted. Lin Perfect jumped up from her seat and moved quickly to DS Spiers’ side. Stevenson threw his arms in the air. ‘You know, nothing. They were nasty, bossy women, just like my mother and they expected everything from me, everything. Do you hear me?’ His outburst stopped as suddenly as it had started and he sat down once, more facing the wall.
‘I think we need to have a break, Inspector, please,’ Lin Perfect said, holding up her notepad in a shaking hand. She stood at the door like a caged animal hoping to be let out of the room, quickly.
The interview was terminated.
‘Donald Harvey was telling the truth,’ Taylor said thoughtfully as she hurried behind Dylan on the corridor. ‘I think I owe him one hell of an apology.’
That was the last thing on Dylan’s mind as he went over what Stevenson had said – and, more importantly, what he hadn’t said.
Chapter 50
Flashing blue lights could be seen and sirens heard as he arrived back in his office. A note was pinned to his desk. Jen rang, can you ring her back, it said. Dylan brushed it aside and picked up his mobile phone. There was a message.
Avril Summerfield-Preston left her calling card. I was out walking with Dawn and Violet trying to get little Button to make her appearance. Aren’t I the lucky one? Speak soon. X.
‘Oh, I’m sure she’ll catch up with you sooner or later, love,’ he mumbled, as he tucked his phone in his pocket and smiled to himself.
‘Lisa,’ Dylan called. ‘I need a team briefing and I need it ASAP.’ Lisa pattered into the office with a pad and a pen in her hand. ‘We need to discuss the results of the interview with Stevenson and speak about need for the extensive work that will have to be done now, in respect of other elderly women that have died or any that are still alive and on his books, with a view to linking them to him.’
Lisa nodded in agreement as she took the notes in shorthand.
‘I need to identify the owners of the rings – and the only way to do that is if the relatives of the deceased, or his female clients who are lucky enough to still be alive, are able to help us. We’ll need to find out the cause of death of any of his clients that have died.’
‘That’s not going to be easy, sir.’
‘Not impossible though. The easiest way of course would be if he’d speak to us but that’s unlikely based on his present behaviour and responses.’
Dylan stood before his team the next day. He was satisfied that Brian Stevenson had murdered Mildred Sykes after systematically stealing from her. He told them Stevenson had admitted being at her house, stating that he knew she was dead.
‘The fingertip marks inside the silver carriage clock casing along with Mildred’s are his, fingerprints have confirmed it,’ Vicky said.
‘Fantastic. We’ll have another interview with him and then we’ll charge him and get him remanded for Mildred’s murder, which will allow us to continue our enquiries. Find out how his own mother died will you, Dennis?’
‘I’m waiting for you to get stuck into him again, boss,’ said Taylor. ‘Shall I arrange f
or the solicitor to be ready in half an hour?’ she said looking at her watch.
‘Yeah,’ said Dylan. John had arrived, looking suitably refreshed. Dylan put an arm around his shoulder and led him into his office, closing the door before Taylor could enter behind them.
‘Going well then boss?’ said John. Dylan nodded.
‘At least we’re going to be in a position to charge, whether he continues to speak to us or not. So far so good,’ he sighed. ‘But it would be nice if he bared his soul.’
There was a knock at the door. ‘Ten minutes for the solicitor boss, I’m ready when you are,’ Taylor said with a smile.
‘In that case Taylor, any chance of some coffee?’ he asked.
‘I hope that won’t spoil a celebratory drink later, sir,’ she said.
John pored over the notes that Dylan had given him. Updating him as to what needed to be talked about in interview was important at this stage. The time was ticking away on Stevenson’s custody clock and they needed as much information from Stevenson as possible before they charged him.
When she came back with the coffee, Dylan told Taylor that he had fully updated John, who would resume interviewing with her.
‘Oh, okay,’ Taylor said with disdain.
Dylan was trying not to dislike her. Visually the woman was attractive, but unfortunately her personality didn’t match her looks. She was moody, he already knew that, but he didn’t like the way she thought that men couldn’t or wouldn’t be able to resist her. She had a lot to learn if she was going to continue working with Dylan because at the moment she didn’t know him at all.
He texted the only woman in his life. Things going okay will be charging later so it could be a late one, don’t wait up.
‘Boss, the blue lights, a short while ago,’ said Vicky. ‘They were speeding off to St Thomas’ – a woman called on three nines about a bloke acting suspiciously in the graveyard. She’d been to put some flowers on her late husband’s grave when she saw him taking flowers from the others.’
‘And,’ Dylan said.
‘He had a knife in his hand.’
‘She obviously got away.’
‘Yes, but the description she gave our boys sounds like Wainstall.’
‘I wonder if the flowers were white lilies?’ said Vicky. ‘God, a goose has just walked over my grave,’ she continued, rubbing her arms. ‘How weird is he, eh? Helicopter has been scrambled; dogs have been called for, but nothing yet.’
‘He’s one of the evil ones, Vicky, who needs to be back behind bars sooner rather than later.’
‘The lady wasn’t wrong; the town centre CCTV control room have informed Control they had sighted a man fitting Wainstall’s description carrying a bunch of flowers and heading towards the subway from Crown Street which leads under the ring road to the Midland Road area. Units have been deployed.’ Vicky said.
‘There are four exits from that one, aren’t there Vicky? One that takes you towards Pellon Lane as well as Gibbet Street, Crown Street and Silver Street?’
‘You’re probably right. I wouldn’t know the street names.’
‘Get us a radio switched on and we’ll listen in to see what’s happening.’
Vicky and Dylan sat quietly together in the CID office listening for developments. All units were in place with each exit covered, helicopter overhead and according to CCTV control he was still in there.’
‘Like a rat in a drainpipe boss. They must have him, they must,’ said Vicky
‘What worries me Vicky is who else might be in there with him. He could have attacked someone or be attacking someone – and we have no way of knowing,’ Dylan said, tapping his fingers on the desk. ‘Come on, come on.’ He picked up the phone. ‘Control room, DI Dylan, regarding the incident in the subway. Can we get double crews to enter each entrance with care at the same time. I’m concerned that our suspect may have cornered someone in there.’
‘Affirmative,’ the officer replied.
‘Vicky, get some car keys and grab that radio; we need to get down there.’
The phone rang. ‘Boss, it’s for you,’ said Dennis covering the mouthpiece.
‘I’m not here,’ he replied.
‘Do you want me with you boss? ’ asked Taylor.
‘No, crack on with Stevenson – we need him sorting. Hopefully it will be over by the time we get there.’ Vicky appeared with a pickaxe handle from behind her desk.
‘What the hell?’ Dylan said.
‘I know we’ve got CS spray and that boss, but I don’t want Edward Scissorhands cutting me, especially across the bloody chest. My stab proof vest doesn’t fit me anymore.’
Dylan tutted. ‘Come on let’s go.’
‘But boss, Avril Summerfield-Preston wants to speak to you …’ Dennis mouthed the words to him so she couldn’t overhear.
‘If it’s her, I’m long gone,’ Dylan shouted as he strutted towards the door with Vicky in his wake.
Dylan’s right hand was placed expertly on the steering wheel, while his left grasped the top of the pickaxe handle. ‘Put that bloody pickaxe handle on the back seat will you before you take my eye out?’ he said. She moaned.
Dylan looked at Vicky and they knew they shared the same thought. ‘Hold on tight,’ he said.
The nearest access for them was Pellon Lane.
‘Stand off situation, sir,’ said the uniformed officer as they alighted from the car. ‘Our man has a lady at knifepoint and is threatening to slit her throat.
‘I knew it. Don’t take his threats lightly, he’ll do what he says,’ said Dylan, gravely.
As Dylan and Vicky strode down the subway, all Dylan could hear were their own footsteps and the echo of a dog barking which seemed to him as if it was bouncing off the cold, damp, tiled walls.
Chapter 51
‘You still got that pickaxe handle, Vicky?’
‘Right here boss, up my sleeve,’ Vicky said.
Dylan smiled despite the dire situation. He could see before him a large black Alsatian straining at the end of a leash held by a dog handler as they turned the corner of the underground tunnel.
‘You better get the handle out. It might give the dog something to chew on,’ Dylan grimaced.
‘Thought you liked dogs?’ she whispered out of the corner of her mouth as she let the wood slip down the sleeve of her coat and into her hand.
‘I do, but not attached to my leg.’
A group of officers stood in their line of sight. Shouting could be heard.
‘Let her go now. Do it now. Let her go!’
Dylan could see the backs of the uniformed personnel who wore stab-proof vests and slash-proof gloves. They were standing in an arch, each about ten yards from Wainstall. A couple of the officers brandished their batons were holding CS spray in their outstretched hands, but Dylan’s attention was drawn to the terrified look on the lady’s face.
It was apparent that Wainstall was holding her up by her hair in his left hand and Dylan could see he had a large bladed knife in his right hand, pointed at her throat. His eyes were dark and dead, like a shark’s eyes. He towered over his hostage who was ashen-faced and gasping for breath. Wainstall didn’t look like a man who had an ounce of compassion in him as he taunted the police with all the arrogance of the victor.
‘Come on,’ he growled, brandishing his muscles. His lips curled tightly over his clenched teeth. ‘Come on then. Come near me copper and I’ll cut her fucking throat.’
‘My God,’ Vicky said, her lip trembling and her voice shaking. The reality of the situation hit home with a force she hadn’t felt before.
Dylan realised at that moment that he was the most senior police officer present and therefore in charge of the scene. The officers in attendance would expect him to take control.
‘I need a firearms unit immediately,’ he told a uniformed officer.
‘At least then there’ll be an option of taking him out if he makes a move to use the weapon on her,’ he whispered to Vicky. ‘Get me an amb
ulance on standby. The poor woman will already be in shock – and who knows who else will need it yet,’ he said. Vicky nodded her head.
‘Step further away and to try silence that dog will you,’ Dylan told the dog handler in a hushed tone. ‘Take a few paces back, lower your batons and put your CS gas away,’ he told the officers with a calm, controlled and quiet voice.
‘Give me two full-length riot shields,’ he ordered. Now everything was urgent and Dylan was pleased his commands were being obeyed immediately and without question. Wainstall, Dylan knew, enjoyed using the knife and Dylan was aware that he could do so again, at any moment.
Fortunately, the shields were in the police transit van at the mouth of the subway. Dylan breathed a sigh of relief at the sight of the officer carrying them down the tunnel towards him. He didn’t know how long he could hold Wainstall’s attention.
Taking the two officers with the shields to one side, he told them of his plan, which he tried to keep as near to a well-rehearsed public order training exercise as he could.
‘Flatten the armed man against the wall with the shields,’ he said. ‘Ensure the arm holding the weapon is outside the shields so he can be disarmed.’
‘Vicky, I want you to look after the victim once we’ve got her released. I’m going to try to negotiate the release of the lady, then you’ll have a chance with the shields to try and contain him – and if that doesn’t work, well we’ll have to use the firearms,’ he said. ‘It’s a life and death situation. Try to stay calm at all times.’
Dylan moved forward, between the two shielded officers, to within a couple of yards of Wainstall and his captive and with his outstretched hand he grabbed the wooden pickaxe handle Vicky was holding.
‘How the hell do you negotiate with someone hell-bent on killing?’ he mumbled giving her a fleeting look. He needed to try, quickly, for the sake of the poor hostage.
White Lilies Page 26