MURDER BY SUICIDE

by S FEATES

  ''Terrible shame about Tony's wife, I was gutted for him. She was a lovely girl, she didn't strike me as the suicidal type. I sent my condolences and some flowers, it was the least I could do.''

  Was he fishing, I didn't know but I feigned ignorance. ''I never met her, I don't really know Tony that well. I know he was very upset by it.''

  ''I won't ask you about the two contracts you've already fulfilled, it's not my business or concern. If you are to carry out any work on my behalf it will be a private arrangement between you and me, nothing to do with my business or my associate. I do carry out extra curricula activities on behalf of people who have no choice but to hire me to satisfy their need for justice. Do you understand?''

  ''Absolutely Mr Williams and I wouldn't have it any other way. Discretion is key and is vital for our mutual benefit. What is said between us stays between us. I have my own code of practice and I am always discrete.''

  ''Good man Steve. Now we are partners in crime, so to speak, call me Derek. Welcome aboard.'' He offered his hand to shake on the deal.

  I firmly grasped his hand and we shook them, ''Thank you for the opportunity, I won't let you down Derek.'' I was determined.

  ''I know you won't.'' The underlying threat was there. ''Now there is a job that I have been given and I am going to trust you with it. Meet me tomorrow at my office at ten in the morning. My partner Mike is off on holiday tonight so he won't be around. Take my card it has got my contact details and address on and my mobile number is scrawled on the back. I would prefer it if you rang my mobile from now on.'' Derek finished his pint and stood up to put his coat on. ''I have to dash but I will see you tomorrow.''

  I left the rest of my beer and followed him out of the pub. We said our goodbyes and went our separate ways. I was over the moon.

  Back in the apartment I mulled over the conversation with Derek Williams. He knew everything about me but I knew nothing about him.

  It was true I had been an apprentice at a funeral parlour and yes it was an odd choice for a sixteen year old school leaver. The truth is I had no qualifications and with my dad being in prison I was in danger of going off the rails. My woodwork teacher, Mr Soloman, who doubled as a careers advisor at school had been asked to fill a vacancy at a local Funeral Directors. Hansen & Daughter was looking for an apprentice to learn the trade and Mr Soloman asked me if I would be interested. Not thinking about the consequences I said yes. I didn't realise that working there would make me a social pariah with girls, they all thought I was weird working with stiffs. Although there was to be one or two disturbed young ladies who wanted to be with me because they were attracted to the idea. They had unnatural desires for sex in odd places. I soon learned to avoid them.

  I learnt everything from embalming to cleaning and dressing the corpses, ordering materials and coffins, dealing with bereaved relatives and friends. I was good at it and Mr Hansen said I was a natural. His Daughter Hannah was a girl in her late twenties and like me she was considered weird so had never had a boyfriend of any long standing. She was a plain looking girl and she had a lisp which I found to be rather sexy. I always got on well with her. I would have stayed in the business but for an unfortunate incident involving Hanna that cost me my job and any chance of a future in the trade.

  We were busy preparing for a funeral, we were short staffed and everyone was rushing around getting things ready. I along with the other pall bearers had loaded the coffin and flowers in the hearse and then we all went off to get changed into our suits. I made the mistake of walking into the wrong room where I was confronted with the vision of Hannah Hansen dressed only in her black underwear, stockings and suspenders, wearing a black velvet top hat complete with chiffon bow and veil. She let out a scream which brought her father running into the room. He assumed I had been doing something inappropriate to his daughter and shouted at me to get out and never come back. He was known to be over protective of his little girl. I did return to pick up my P45 and monies owed and it was then that Hansen told me I would never work in the funeral trade ever again, he would put the word out that I was a pervert. I told him to go and fuck himself as it was obviously no good trying to explain what really happened. It was a shame as I quite enjoyed the work. To this day the memory of the lisping, young miss Hansen appears in my dreams where she is leading a funeral cortege dressed only in her underwear and top hat, slow stepping ahead of the hearse carrying a long silver topped cane. Thank you Hannah you made some cold, lonely nights very memorable!

  I wanted to go to Southend and look at the Audi that Kevin had said was a bargain but I was concerned that if I paid out for the motor it might leave me short. The last thing I wanted was to run out of cash. The warning from Tony about not paying my rent had stayed with me. I would leave the car for now and hope that the job Derek had in mind would be a nice little earner. I would find out tomorrow.

  7

  The office was on the third floor of a modern office block in Fenchurch Street, constructed all in glass and metal it was a select place to have a business address. Taking the elevator to the third floor I walked out onto the plush carpet that led to the half dozen offices that were on that level. There were a couple of accountants, a literary agent and a film company, which I found out later from Williams, made a small fortune from pornography. He said he could get me a part in one of their next productions if I wanted. I declined the offer.

  I knocked on the door of D. Williams P.I. and waited for a response. ''Come in!'' A loud voice ordered from somewhere within. I opened the door and entered the office. As I walked across the room my feet sank into the deep pile of the carpet, Derek looked up from his hand made, American Walnut desk and smiled.

  ''Welcome Steve, sit down.'' He pointed to the easy chair in front of his desk. ''Would you like coffee, tea, anything?''

  ''No thanks, I'm fine.'' I looked around the room and was very impressed by the contents. There were fine antique ornaments and oil paintings on the walls. This man had class.

  ''Ok, let's cut to the chase. I have been approached by an acquaintance of mine, known him for years, and he has a problem that he wants me to sort for him.'' As he spoke he passed a dossier across the desk to me. ''Have a look at that, I warn you it makes distressing reading.''

  I picked up the file and opened it. He was correct it was grim. The contents documented the systematic sexual abuse of young boys aged from eight to fourteen. The perpetrator was a man named Harold Winterman, he was sixty two years old and lived in Enfield. Winterman was a former house master and P. E. teacher at a public school for boys. He had a distinguished and unblemished career until his retirement at age sixty. It had been rumoured that he been inappropriate with some of the boys but nothing had been proven. The boys who made the claims were persuaded that they were wrong in their accusations for the reputation of the school. Winterman had taken some of the boys away on camping weekends and fishing holidays claiming that it would be good for their development and make men of them. In reality it was an opportunity to groom the boys for his own sexual interests. I was appalled by the fact that he had gotten away with it so easily. The father of one of the boys was the acquaintance that had contacted Williams. His son had claimed that he had been abused some years ago but nobody listened to him. He was a boarder at the school so his parents only saw him during school holidays. He became withdrawn and was reluctant to go back to school. His parents put it down to him being awkward and hating school. But as he grew older he gave more details and eventually the police were involved. Due to a lack of evidence and strong denials by the school and no other boys coming forward the case was dropped. As a consequence the son became hooked on drugs and drink and finally he took his own life. The father was devastated at the loss of his only son and he turned to the only man who could find out the truth, Derek Williams.

  ''How can this happen? Surely there was enough to pursue this further,'' I addressed the question to Derek, ''Did you find out anything? There has to be a trail that could be investiga
ted and evidence gathered. People like this get over confident and make mistakes.''

  ''Plenty as it happens but my client is no longer interested in letting the police deal with it, he has no faith in them now. He wants me to take care of it.'' He passed me another folder. ''This is what I found.''

  Opening the folder I found photos and pages of text with the names of websites and contact details for people from all over the world. The photos were disgusting, there were images of young boys of all ages being abused by various different men. Looking at the photos made me feel sick. There was also a couple of DVD's inside that had WINTERMAN EVIDENCE written on them. It filled me with dread to think what might be on them.

  ''Those DVD's contain movie files taken from the laptop belonging to Winterman. Some of the movies even feature him in them abusing boys. It's fucking disgusting filth. This pervert needs putting down and that's where you come in, if you want it.''

  There was no doubt in my mind, I was more than willing to rid the world of this animal, I'd do it for free. ''Absolutely Derek, count me in.''

  Williams gathered up all the files and put them back in a safe. ''The client is willing to pay handsomely for a satisfactory conclusion to this. That means it will be a substantial earner for you. It won't be easy, don't underestimate Winterman, he's as slippery as a well oiled cock in a massage parlour. You don't get away with this behaviour for all those years without being smart.'' He passed me a sheet of A4 paper, on it were all the details I needed to know about Harold Winterman. Address, kind of car and registration, his routine and other pieces of intelligence that Williams had gathered.

  Williams continued, ''Some time back I had to deal with a piece of scum by the name of Eddie Fox. He had been mutilating women, cutting off their ears on behalf of someone who was paying him to do it. It's a long story so I won't bore you with the details, needless to say I tracked him down to a place he was staying in Sunderland and I killed him.''

  Williams went on to describe the way he had done it and how he had made it look like an accident, he said that it would be a fitting way to despatch a nonce like Winterman. I had to agree.

  ''Are we all done here?'' Williams was ready to wrap up the meeting, ''Any questions?''

  ''Do we have a timeframe to work within?'' It was going to take a little time to arrange.

  ''Absolutely not, just make sure it is executed without any possibility of it coming back on us. As long as justice is served my client isn't concerned with how long it takes.'' Pushing an envelope across to me he added, ''here's an advance to get you started. I don't need to be kept updated on progress just tell me when it's done.''

  I took the wad of cash and put it away. ''Thanks for that. I will get started right away.''

  As I made ready to leave Derek said, ''Might I be so bold as to suggest you get yourself a job, there is not going to be too many opportunities that I can give you, obviously there ain't people queuing round the block wanting someone dead. Plus it will take time for you to hone your skills and gain a reputation.''

  I looked at him to see if he was joking, he wasn't. ''I suppose you're right, never thought of that really.'' Now he mentioned it, I hadn't.

  ''I know someone who is looking for an assistant with a view to taking over the business and you fit the bill perfectly, it will be right up your alley. Have you ever heard of someone called the Mortician?''

  ''Can't say I have, no. Who is he?'' I was intrigued by the possibility.

  ''The Mortician is a Yank, he came over in the mid seventies and set up as a Funeral Director in Oxford. As I'm sure you know Funeral Directors are called Morticians in the States hence his nickname. He became very successful and built quite a business then luck dealt him a rough hand. He lost his wife to cancer, they'd only been married three years, he took to drinking and eventually lost everything. He managed to get off the drink and to rebuild his business but to do it he had to employ a new way of making hard cash to pay off his debts. He became involved with some very heavy people who required his services to dispose of bodies of the people they had killed. He became very good at it and he eventually branched out on his own as a 'problem solver', much like yourself. I can get him to call you if you like, especially as you have experience in the funeral trade too.''

  I pondered the proposal and decided that it wouldn't hurt to hear this Mortician out so I said yes.

  ''Good I'll make the arrangements.''

  Could my life get any sweeter, people were falling over themselves to accommodate me. If I screwed this up I deserved to be shot.

  8

  There was a lot of information to digest and that was only on one A4 sheet of paper. Harold Winterman had a complex life in one way but very simple in others. The man was predictable and orderly in his everyday life but behind the facade he was secretive, devious and calculating. It was this combination that enabled him to avoid detection for his crimes. I had to find a way into his life. I needed to be able to catch him alone, in his house, without causing a disturbance and without him being suspicious of my true intentions.

  Winterman spent many hours on the internet, his laptop confirmed it. Williams had managed to access the laptop when Winterman was away on one of his weekend jaunts. Winterman never took it with him on his trips. Williams illegally entered the home of Winterman and whilst in there he made copies of the DVD's and copies of photos. He also cloned the hard drive so that it could be analysed at his leisure. A young man named Jamie, a computer technician, was on his payroll. Jamie was a wizard when it came to hacking into computers, he established that Winterman was a frequent user of Darknet websites. He had explained that criminals and hackers use the Dark Web to carry out illegal activities. Drugs, guns and child pornography are amongst the most popular items trading on the Dark Web. The activity by its users is mostly anonymous and untraceable. Cybercrime has become one of the hardest activities for law enforcement agencies to fight, the crimes included identity theft, fraud, blackmail and the hacking of government servers. In order to combat the cyber criminals the UK National Crime Agency and GCHQ formed a Joint Operations Cell to focus on cybercrime back in 2013 and as of 2015 they were tasked with tackling child exploitation. The problem facing these agencies and law enforcement agencies the world over was huge.

  The websites and forums that Winterman accessed were done through this dark web. The forums might be a way of getting close to him but it would take time to gain his trust. There must be a way to get close without having to go down that time consuming route.

  I decided to visit Enfield where Winterman lived to familiarise myself with the area. His house was situated on Old Park Avenue. The detached house overlooked Town Park, a large recreation park in the centre of town, and had neighbours on either side. The big houses were all quite close together making it difficult to come and go without the risk of being seen. I assessed that the best time to carry out the deed would be at night, less people about and with the added cover of darkness. Getting inside without forcing entry would be the problem. I had to somehow befriend Harold Winterman.

  I knew from Williams' research that Winterman had started helping out at the local Scout troop in Enfield, no doubt as a way of advancing his deviant behaviour. I gave this some serious thought as a point of contact. I would maybe stop by his house one evening under the pretence that I had just moved into the area and had a son that wanted to take up scouting and it had been recommended that I contact him for details. It was worth a punt but if it all went tits up it would ruin any further opportunity to get close as he would know my face. I would have to swot up on the layout of the local area and scouting in particular.

  Harold Winterman had spent a good two hours talking to Franz27. He had become friends with Franz27 on a forum that catered for like minded individuals. The central theme was young boys. They had made contact a few years previously and were regulars on the forum. Charles62, as Winterman was known, and Franz27 had enjoyed swapping ideas and fantasies via the site, they had built up enough trust
to begin sending each other explicit photos and video clips containing boys of all ages. Winterman had decided on the name of Charles62 as his anonymous screen name, Charles was his father's name and the 62 referred to the year that he was first abused as a child.

  In the summer of 1962 the boy Winterman was sent to boarding school. His parents were well to do people with important, time consuming jobs in the Diplomatic service. Harold had been an accident, his parents had not wanted to start a family at the time of his conception but they made the best of it and sent him away where he was largely forgotten until the holidays.

  School was an ordeal for the young Harold, he was shy and withdrawn and had few, if any, real friends. He was bullied mercilessly and cried himself to sleep most nights in the early days. To make matters worse he regularly wet the bed. His saviour came in the form of the school chaplain, Father Hennessey.

  Father Hennessey was a Catholic priest who had held the position of chaplain for several years. He hailed from Dublin in Ireland and was a jolly, red faced man in his fifties who often smelled of whiskey. As chaplain he was responsible for the pastoral care of the students, a job he took very seriously. Harold was soon on his radar as a child who needed succour and comfort. It was to be the start of many years of sexual abuse for Harold. The care and affection that Father Hennessey bestowed upon him felt like a warming fire on a cold winters day. It got to the stage where Harold would seek out the chaplain for the most insignificant reasons just for the attention. It was not long before Harold was encouraged to visit Hennessey in his private quarters. For hours Harold was lectured on the mysterious ways that God moved, he listened earnestly, hanging on every word as he watched the chaplain down large glasses of whiskey while he spoke. The more he drank the closer he seemed to get to his young charge until eventually their legs were touching. As Hennessey drained the last drops of amber spirit he placed his hand on Harold's knee and gave it a squeeze. Looking at Harold he asked.