by M J Lee
‘See you tomorrow, Ridpath. I think we’ll have work to do.’
‘The understatement of the year, Mrs Challinor.’ He switched off the call and hunted through his contacts list for Jones’s and Pleasance’s numbers.
He made the calls. Neither of the detectives was pleased with the news. Jones managed only two words in response. ‘Fucking hell.’
It was time to go home, but he knew that evening the questions wouldn’t go away. They would just keep whispering to him through the long, cold darkness of the night.
Were the two murders linked? If they were, why?
Which of course would lead him onto the biggest question of all.
Who?
Day Five
Saturday, April 27, 2019
Chapter Thirty-One
‘Morning, Ridpath.’
‘Is it?’ Ridpath had spent a sleepless night thinking about the case. His brain turning over question after question but finding no answers.
Sophia Rahman sat in front of her monitor, staring at it intently. She pressed pause on her keyboard. ‘I talked to Charest Fashions yesterday. They record each day on DVD, then recycle the DVDs at the beginning of the week.’
‘Please tell me they hadn’t recycled them yet?’
She smiled. ‘They hadn’t recycled them yet. This is the one from yesterday. I’ve marked a few spots which you might find interesting.’
Ridpath hurried round to her side of the desk. She rewound the DVD. A black-and-white image, slightly distorted from the fish-eye lens of the security camera, appeared on the screen. It showed the alley in front of the gate to the building site but not inside the site itself. At the top right-hand corner a clock showed time ticking forwards.
A man dressed in rough, ragged clothes carrying a bag and a wire basket came in from the bottom right, stopped in front of the gate, checked over his shoulder and went into the building site.
‘I think that is Sam Sykes, our homeless man,’ Sophia said, pointing to the screen.
‘Can you freeze-frame it when he looks back?’
‘No problem.’ She rewound and stopped the CCTV just as the man looked back. The picture juddered and went out of focus. ‘Unfortunately, they must have used this DVD a million times. The quality is knackered, I’m afraid.’
‘Is that the technical phrase?’
‘Learnt it at uni. It’s why I got a 2:1.’
‘Never mind, perhaps somebody at the police lab can enhance it.’ Ridpath checked the time in the top corner. ‘Ten fifty a.m. At least we have a time now.’
‘We’ve got more.’ She resumed playing the DVD. Two minutes later another man also came in from the bottom right. He was holding up a bag to cover his face. He was wearing dark clothes: a long black coat, Nikes and a dark baseball cap. He didn’t look back before stooping slightly to slip inside the gate.
‘I’ve replayed this four or five times. We never see his face. His bag is always covering it.’
‘Looks like he knew there was CCTV there. Can you rewind it?’
She quickly went back to the point where he entered.
Ridpath followed the action on the screen. ‘See, he moves his bag to his head just as he comes into frame. And watch how he stoops slightly to go through the gate. I had to do the same thing, which puts him around six foot, one inch, same as me.’
‘But we can get a more accurate measurement…’
‘Go on.’
‘Simple trigonometry. If I measure the gate and another point where he passed, for example the lamp post, we can calibrate his height.’
‘Another thing you learned at uni?’
‘Nah, Year 9, basic trig, isn’t it?’
It wasn’t basic to Ridpath. He had a grade G in GCSE maths, about the worst it was humanly possible to get.
‘Let it run on.’
The DVD carried on. The wind sent an old crisp packet tumbling down the deserted lane but there was no other movement.
Then a white flare at the top left-hand corner of the screen, as if a torch had been shone at the camera.
‘Did you see that? Stop it and rewind,’ said Ridpath.
Sophia did as she was told. A flare of light flashed on the screen for a second then died down to a fainter glow.
‘Is there no sound on this bloody thing?’
She shook her head. ‘Only picture.’
The screen continued to glow faintly. In the corner, the digital clock counted down the time.
10:56:22
10:57:34
10:58:05
‘Jesus, you know what this means, don’t you?’
Sophia shook her head.
‘It means our perp stood there and watched Sam Sykes burn to death.’
‘Wait, Ridpath, there’s more.’
Chapter Thirty-Two
Sophia’s finger hovered over the keyboard.
The clock continued to tick over in the top corner.
10:59:13.
10:59:45.
10:59:53
A shambling figure came in from the bottom, walked slowly to the gate and pushed it open. The man was another tramp, but this time the beard was longer and the clothes even more dirty.
‘See,’ said Sophia, ‘somebody else goes in, but ten seconds later he comes running out.’
On the screen, the tramp was running out through the gate, no longer shambling but racing as if the life had been scared out of him.
‘We have a witness. This man saw everything.’
Ridpath jabbed the screen. ‘Did he see the perp too?’
‘He certainly looks like he’s seen a ghost.’
‘Can you make a copy of the DVD?’
‘Not here, but I can at home. The PCs here are from the dark ages.’
‘OK, we need to show this to Mrs Challinor.’
‘Just wait a minute, you haven’t seen everything yet.’
‘There’s more?’
‘The camera was still working when you visited the building site later.’
She skipped forward to another point in the recording. The image was exactly the same as before, except this time the alley was sleek with rain and the light of dusk was throwing shadows across the building site.
‘The cameras are not really equipped for night vision. If somebody approaches the door a light goes on, but if you avoid it, then…’ She left the sentence unfinished.
A man came in from the bottom right, again holding up a black case to cover his face. He avoided the door with its light, went to the gate and slipped into the building site. The time in the corner of the screen ticked over to 19:16.
‘Is it the same man? He’s dressed differently,’ said Ridpath.
The long black coat had been replaced by a short Harrington jacket and jeans. He was still wearing the baseball cap, though.
‘We can measure again. It’s not foolproof but it should tell us whether the man’s height was the same.’
‘Do it.’ Ridpath continued to watch the screen.
Nothing was happening.
‘What’s he doing in there?’
Sophia didn’t answer him.
The clock in the top right corner flipped on, remorseless.
19:16:54
19:17:23
19:18:12
Another man came in, from the left this time. He was checking his phone.
‘That’s me.’
‘You take good CCTV, Ridpath.’ She was looking up at him and smiling.
On the screen, Ridpath looked all around him, checking the area before approaching the gate and leaning in without entering.
‘This is where I shouted and rattled the gate. There was a massive rat in one of the bins.’
Slowly, cautiously, the Ridpath on the screen vanished from view into the building site.
Ten seconds later a man came running out, not trying to hide his face this time. Instead of running back the way he came, he turned left and dashed up Back Piccadilly, away from town.
‘That’s after he hit me.�
�� Ridpath rubbed the back of his head. The bump was still there, smaller now but still painful.
The clock ran on. Two minutes later, Ridpath appeared at the entrance, leaning heavily on the gate.
‘You were out for over two minutes. You should have gone to hospital.’
‘It wasn’t much, I’ve had worse. And anyway, I avoid hospitals like the plague.’ He pointed to the screen. ‘Can you go back to where he exited the building site?’
She found the point on the DVD, just after Ridpath entered. Again they waited fifteen seconds and the man appeared.
‘Freeze-frame it here.’
The DVD stopped but the picture juddered. In it they could see the jawline of a man and his mouth, but the rest of the face was in shadow or hidden by the baseball cap.
‘What’s he carrying in his hand?’ asked Sophia.
Ridpath peered at the screen. The picture stayed still for a second and then started to judder, before freezing and juddering again.
‘Is it a can or some kind of metal tube?’ she asked.
But Ridpath knew what it was. A can of spray paint. And he knew ‘PLAY THE GAME’ had been written by this man.
‘Why take the chance of returning to a crime scene simply to spray a message on the wall? And why didn’t he do it earlier? He had plenty of time,’ said Ridpath.
Sophia Rahman stared at him.
‘It’s time we took this to Mrs Challinor.’
Chapter Thirty-Three
‘You’re sure, Ridpath?’ The coroner frowned.
Mrs Challinor sat back as Sophia paused her laptop. They had just rewatched the footage from the CCTV together, pausing it to the places they had marked to show her.
Ridpath nodded. ‘And that’s not all. This footage confirms Dr Schofield’s post-mortem. Somebody killed Sam Sykes before he was set alight.’
‘When is his report coming in?’
‘He promised me he would send his preliminary findings this morning. Toxicology will follow.’
‘And what about the death of Joseph Brennan?’
‘He said the man’s body was also burnt after he was murdered.’
‘Are the two cases connected?’
‘He doesn’t know. But the fact that both were attacked before being set alight…’
‘…suggests a pretty strong connection,’ Mrs Challinor finished. ‘Surely the clincher is the message written at both sites. What was it again?’
‘Play the game.’
Mrs Challinor had reached the heart of the matter with her usual speed. ‘There was also the man I saw when I went to the scene. It felt as if he were returning to the crime. Reliving it one more time.’ He paused for a moment. ‘And I’m pretty sure he spray-painted the wall. Like a dog marking his territory.’
‘Or an artist signing his work.’ Mrs Challinor sat forward, pointing with her pencil. ‘We’ve got a problem, Ridpath. Actually more than one problem. Firstly, we now need to make this a murder investigation. As a coroner, that is not in my scope. All murder investigations have to be conducted by the police. I have opened an inquest on our homeless man, but I will have to postpone it until the police have completed their enquiries.’
‘Understood, Mrs Challinor. But you can see from the tape, he watched the man burn. He poured an accelerant over a man, stood there for at least five minutes and watched the body of another human being burning without lifting a finger to help him.’ As he spoke, Ridpath’s voice rose.
‘We have to notify Manchester Central, request they reopen the Sykes case.’
‘Jones wasn’t too pleased when I told him this might happen last night.’
‘I don’t care what Detective Sergeant Jones thinks. What was the name of the head of the CID?’
‘Detective Chief Inspector Harrison.’
‘I’ll call him later. And I’ll follow up with Dr Schofield. We need the DNA, fingerprints, toxicology, trace results and report on the accelerant used as soon as possible.’ She paused for a moment. ‘We also need to know more about Sam Sykes.’
‘If he lived on the streets, I bet he has a record for something.’
‘That’s a bit damning, Ridpath.’
He shrugged. ‘It’s reality. Most of the people on the streets have either been in prison or in a care home. Or they have a drug habit or have been picked up for prostitution. It’s a life that comes into contact with the police for one reason or another eventually.’ Ridpath noticed a distant look in her eye as he spoke.
‘Can you find out, Sophia? Next of kin, home address, schools, whatever you can?’
‘Yes, ma’am.’
‘It’s “Coroner” or “Mrs Challinor”, Sophia.’
‘Yes, ma… Coroner.’
‘We’ll make a copy of this CCTV and pass it onto DCI Harrison. I presume you have a proper chain of evidence.’
Ridpath looked at Sophia.
She said, ‘What?’
Ridpath sighed. ‘My fault, I should’ve briefed her correctly.’
‘I don’t understand, what’s wrong?’
‘Did you give Charest Fashions a receipt for the DVDs, placing them in a sealed bag with the time of their acquisition, the date and your signature on it?’
‘No.’
‘OK, can you go back and do it now? It’s not valid but at least we’ll be covered.’
‘I don’t understand, what’s the problem?’
Mrs Challinor explained. ‘In a court of law, there is a chain of custody. We have to be certain before any evidence is introduced into court that it hasn’t been tampered with in any way.’
‘But I took it home to look at it. The PCs here are too old.’
‘It’s OK, Sophia. Go back to Charest Fashions and get a signed statement from them saying when you received the DVDs and then keep them in an evidence bag.’
‘OK.’
The glass rattled in its frame as Storm Hannah gusted through the centre of Stockfield and a surge of rain beat against the sash windows.
‘There’s one more thing, Ridpath. I think you should take everything we have to Claire Trent.’
Ridpath paused for a moment, frowning. ‘Strictly speaking, the homeless man’s death was in Central’s area. DCI Harrison has to decide if it warrants the involvement of MIT. And Joseph Brennan’s death was investigated by a different division too. Detective Superintendent Trent won’t want to step on the toes of the other police districts.’
‘You know I don’t give a toss about police protocol, Ridpath.’
He thought for a moment. ‘And the MO is different in both cases. Joseph Brennan was struck over the head and Sam Sykes had his throat cut. Plus, we have no evidence of a link between the victims.’
‘I still think you should show her what we have discovered.’
‘She won’t like it.’
‘Why?’
Ridpath held up his hand, extending the fingers. ‘Three reasons. We don’t have enough evidence without the toxicology and the accelerant reports. Second, no copper likes to be told they have a possible serial killer on their patch they knew nothing about. And third, you’re going to add more unsolved deaths to her stats.’
‘Sod the stats. We’re talking about the death of a homeless man here, plus a possible link to another death in Wythenshawe, and perhaps one in Derbyshire. We could be dealing with a serial killer. Will he kill again?’
‘I can’t answer that. I don’t know.’
‘What do you believe, Ridpath?’
‘Beliefs are not evidence, Mrs Challinor.’
The coroner rolled her eyes. ‘Then based on all your police experience, what do you think?’
Ridpath looked down but stayed silent.
‘What do you think?’
He paused for a moment before answering. ‘I think he will kill again.’
‘Then it’s our job to step on toes to stop that happening.’ It was Mrs Challinor losing her cool now, the first time Ridpath had ever seen her so animated.
He tried to explain polic
e operations one more time. ‘She will only get involved if she is ordered to do so by a senior officer or she is convinced there is the possibility of the involvement of a serial killer. The death is the responsibility of another SIO at the moment.’
‘I don’t care. I want you to brief her today. Remember our job in the coroner’s office is to represent the dead in the court of the living. You need to convince her, Ridpath. I know we are dealing with a serial killer.’
Chapter Thirty-Four
‘A serial killer? You’ve got to be joking.’
Ridpath switched off the DVD player he had attached to his computer, having just shown Claire Trent and Lorraine Caruso the footage of the murder of the homeless man. He had explained to them why he thought the deaths of Joseph Brennan and this man were linked.
‘That’s what it looks like, guv’nor.’
‘You dragged us into work on Saturday morning for this…’ Caruso glanced across at Trent. ‘And what were you doing at a crime scene? You’re a coroner’s officer.’
‘Mrs Challinor asked me to go.’
‘But it’s got nothing to do with you… or her.’
‘The coroner can investigate any suspicious deaths in her jurisdiction…’ Ridpath began to raise his voice.
Trent held her hands up. ‘What he was doing there doesn’t matter. We have a murder.’ She clicked a page on her desktop. ‘It seems Manchester Central has already classed this as an accidental death. You need to show them this footage, Ridpath.’
‘What? You haven’t shown the SIO yet?’ Caruso glared at Ridpath.
He looked down. ‘Mrs Challinor wanted me to show you both first. We believe we are dealing with a serial killer, not a single murder.’
‘What do you think, Lorraine?’
‘I’m not convinced. Manchester Central is handling the death of this dosser. They should have this CCTV footage and all the information Ridpath has collected. Why should we take it off them and add it to our workload? It’s not a major case and it won’t help our stats. These sorts of thrill murders happen and are notoriously difficult to solve.’