When The Killing Starts: A DI Jack Dylan novel

by RC Bridgestock

  ‘I know it’s a long shot but...’

  ‘I’ll suggest it to the North Yorkshire team to copy that initiative.’

  ‘Maybe the Mercedes is on CCTV at the race meeting?’

  ‘If we could only get hold of that car and match it to the paint sample that was taken by CSI from the Manor’s gate pillar, that would be great.’

  Feeling more positive and on top of things at work, but exhausted after completing copious amounts of paperwork that had accumulated on his desk over the previous few day, Dylan left work for home. It was nine o’clock. At the start of the day he had intended to leave earlier, and as he drove along the long, dark, country roads of the Sibden Valley the adrenaline that had kept him going all day turned to a feeling of deep regret that he had not tried harder. The balance between his home life and work was never going to be easy while he was an SIO, but neither was the task of identifying the whereabouts of the Mercedes, placing it at the scene of the crime at the relevant time of the fire, and identifying the occupants inside. He smiled, it seemed all quite straight forward when he thought about it like that. The database on the computer system in the incident room showed him that no one that had been seen by the team had a similar vehicle to the royal blue Mercedes, and he knew that because he’d had Ned go through every computer printout in relation to vehicles. There was an awful long way to go.

  As he pulled the car into the driveway he noticed the main light was on in the bedroom and the curtains were open. ‘What on earth is she doing?’ he said out loud as he saw Jen standing on the top rung of the step ladder leaning backwards and holding on for dear life.

  He took the stairs two at a time. A hand seemed to grab at his chest and his heart filled with love to see her face speckled with tiny yellow coloured dots and the smell of paint greeted him.

  ‘I didn't hear you come in?’ she said climbing down to meet him, clutching a paint brush in her hand.

  ‘Have you lost your mind?’ he said with a little laugh as she stood in front of him and put her face up to his for a kiss. He tried to brush the paint away from her lips but it only resulted in spreading it across her face.

  ‘I needed something to do,’ she said turning away from him suddenly. ‘The tablets the doctor gave me seem to be working and this seemed like the obvious thing - a new look. Do you like it?’

  ‘Well, I loved the old and I love the new but, I absolutely love that colour,’ he said admiring the newly painted walls.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Dylan looked at the stranger in the mirror. Unshaven, thinner and a look in his eyes that he didn’t recognise. He looked away. Picked up his toothbrush, and brushed his teeth with a ferocity that wasn’t necessary. When he spat the toothpaste out there was blood. How long had he been putting work before his health and family, he was ashamed to not be able to remember a time when that wasn't so. That had to change. It was about time he started to put Jen and Maisy first. There was a noise behind him and he turned. Jen set a warm drink on the dresser in the bathroom and walked away. He stared at her retreating figure but said nothing. She had managed to climb out of the abyss she had been sinking into.

  ***

  The details of the vehicle seen leaving the driveway of Merton Manor at the time of the fire were discussed at the morning meeting.

  ‘To-date we don’t have information regarding any contacts of the Isaacs driving a royal blue Mercedes. It’s therefore top priority to identify this vehicle as soon as we can.’

  Meeting over, Dylan returned to his office, his phone was ringing and he picked it up.

  ‘DI Jack Dylan,’ he snapped. The person on the other end of the line was obviously walking. Dylan could hear footsteps and heavy breathing. ‘Dylan, Terry. I thought I’d just let you know that I met with Nadine, the escort agency boss. She is a smart, intelligent business woman who also appears to be quite wealthy.’

  Dylan allowed himself to relax a little. ‘So, the escort agency business is a lucrative one you think? And I see you’re on first name terms already.’

  ‘You know me Dylan.’ Terry chuckled.

  ‘Get on with it man,’ said Dylan. ‘I haven’t time to listen to stories of your conquests.’

  ‘Ah, you’re jealous?’

  Dylan felt a flaccid smile tighten his lips. ‘Not a bit,’ he said wholeheartedly.

  ‘Never say never. And, if you ever?’

  ‘I won’t,’ Dylan interrupted. ‘I am interested in what she had to say though?’

  ‘Two of her girls were hired the night of your job at Merton Manor by a couple of men, and the day after by the same two who took them as their escorts to the races. The name the man gave to book the girls was a Mr Debbin, according to the paperwork, and they met them on both occasions at The Wellington Hotel, Harrowfield. The working names of the girls who turned out are Nancy and Shani. Their post-date sheets submitted to Nadine say that they met the guys, stayed the night, left the following morning and were contacted again to return the same day when they were taken by the two men to York races. There were no untoward incidents to report. The girls told Nadine in conversation that the men were splashing wads of cash around like no tomorrow. What we found interesting was one of these girls, Nancy, appears on CCTV to be speaking to our deceased Cedric Oakley at the bar and it has been suggested to me by Nadine that he gave Nancy a ‘hot tip’ and one of the men bet heavily on it. Two furlongs out, it was held back and it wasn’t even placed.’

  ‘Nothing more than that? No words exchanged between this man and Cedric Oakley?’

  ‘No, apparently not, the punters continued to spend their cash and at the end of the day paid and tipped the girls well. Nadine is going to speak to Nancy and Shani again for us and then we’re going to meet up. From what she’s told me, there doesn’t appear to be any threat to their safety and the girls didn’t report anything that needs to concern the police. Our team will be updating yours today.’

  ‘Interestingly we’ve also had a bit of a development. A witness has come forward to say that, on the day of the fire, they saw a royal blue Mercedes leaving the driveway of Merton Manor as the building was alight, and another witness who possibly saw the same vehicle parked in a lay-by on the road overlooking Merton Manor. The lay-by has been searched and exhibits collated. While they both give a good account of the car, neither can say anything about the occupants. They both say that the car had a showroom finish which is what primarily caught their attention.’

  ‘The registered number?’

  ‘Ah, that’s what we’re missing at the moment but, as they say, leave that with us. Checks are being made with CCTV, ANPR etc. and both our databases will be updated accordingly should we get any result.’

  ‘We don’t have any similar vehicles in the system as yet?’

  ‘No, but it’s early days. What sort of car did our pair of race goers pick the girls up in, just as a matter of interest?’

  ‘All Nadine could tell me was that they said it was luxurious transport. So, no idea of make or model as yet. Did I tell you Nadine used to be a bunny girl?’

  ‘No, but I do know a rabbit that’s been hypnotised by her headlights.’

  ‘Makes a change dealing with the living.’

  ‘That bad?’ Dylan winced.

  ‘Worse, and the wife’s taken herself off on holiday with kids. Says they might as well be invisible. Thing is, I know she’s bloody right. But if I can just get one more rank under my belt it’ll make so much difference to my pension. I wish she could see that.’

  ‘That’s what the hierarchy do isn’t it? Dangle the carrot of a higher pension as a reward for obtaining the next rank?’ Dylan was quiet and thoughtful for a moment.

  Terry sighed. ‘Yes, they do. I’ll highlight the information regarding the Mercedes on our briefing sheet.’

  ‘And, something else I’d like you to be aware of; our CPO, DC Rupert Charles, is one of the people who we have identified in the VIP lounge at York races.’

  ‘I’m sure the CCTV
will turn up a few Yorkshire coppers at the York meeting.’

  ‘I’ve asked that your staff interview him. I think it’s more appropriate than someone from Harrowfield nick. I’ve also highlighted the fact that he recently visited the home of the deceased at Merton Manor and advised them about security. Sadly, it appears that they were still waiting for estimates for the work required.’

  ‘It’s interesting that DC Charles had a connection to both locations. Do you know if he knew Cedric Oakley?’

  ‘No, but he can be seen on the CCTV next to him at the bar. His dress code suggests perhaps that he is also no stranger to the races.’

  ‘How well do you know this Rupert Charles?’

  ‘Not at all, in fact, I’ve only just come across him on this enquiry. He hasn’t been working at Harrowfield that long.’

  ‘Leave it with us. I’ll speak personally to whoever gets the enquiry and ensure that they do a thorough job, including having a look at his financial background. He hasn’t by any chance got a royal blue Merc has he?’

  ‘I’m not sure. He doesn’t use a royal blue Mercedes to travel to work as I’d have seen it in the station car park.’ Dylan stood and walked toward the window. He scanned the yard. ‘Good point though, I’ll find out.’

  As soon as he put the telephone down Dylan marched out into the CID office. Vicky was returning with a pile of papers she had just retrieved from the post-room. ‘Beaky wants to know when Jen will be returning to work?’

  ‘Never mind Avril Summerfield-Preston. The Divisional Administrator can bloody wait. I want to know if DC Charles’s vehicle is on our database?’

  ‘His red Fiat Panda?’ Vicky screwed up her nose. ‘Why would it be?’

  ‘That rusty old thing. Is that his?’ he said.

  Vicky nodded.

  ‘Does he own another?’ he said. Dylan sounded irritated.

  ‘How would I know. He’s married to a teacher so maybe she’s got a car?’

  ‘Find out, and I want to review the CCTV we have from the racecourse again to see who DC Charles speaks to. I’m pretty sure there is nothing to show us that he was with anyone in particular that day in the VIP lounge, but that’s not to say we haven’t got more footage of him elsewhere at the meeting.’

  ‘I’ll ask Jon Summers, boss,’ she said with a flaccid hand salute. She could see Dylan wasn’t in the mood for jokes by his expression.

  ‘Have you got me any updates on the Knapton enquiry?’

  ‘I’ll bring you the latest intel. Do you want a drink?’

  Dylan nodded. ‘Yes. Thanks,’ he said gruffly.

  As Dylan waited for Vicky to return, his eyes fell on the photo of Jen and Maisy on his desk. He picked it up and studied it closely for a moment. It was a picture he had taken. Jen’s mouth was open, laughing out loud at Maisy. He remembered it well and a lump rose in his throat. Their little girl, in return, was looking up at Jen with a cheeky grin on her face showing off her dimples. The memory of her running across the grass and into his arms after he had taken the picture brought tears close to his eyes. Putting the photograph back in its place he booted up his computer and looked up on the internet the phone number for a local florist, there was so many, which did he choose? Dylan gave a deep sigh as Vicky walked back in the office.

  ‘What’s up?’ she said handing him a package. ‘Knapton update,’ she said with a scowl as she scanned his tired, grey pallor.

  ‘I wanted to order Jen flowers but I can’t work out how to order on this bloody site.’

  ‘Better get them local. Leave it with me.’ She held out her hand and he dug into his pocket, found his wallet and gave her a £10 note. She beckoned for more. His eyes grew wide. He put a further £10 in her hand.

  ‘Triple it and it might just cover it.’

  ‘Sixty quid for a bunch of flowers?’

  ‘She’s worth it isn’t she?’ Vicky raised her eye brows and cocked her head to one side questioningly.

  ‘Make sure they’re delivered today,’ he said pressing the notes in her hand.

  ‘And the card?’

  Dylan shrugged his shoulders. ‘You do it. I don’t know what to say on stuff like that. Something that will cheer her up.’

  Vicky shook her head. ‘I suggest you learn, boss.’

  More than aware that, although it was relatively early days in both murder investigations, if they didn’t have any positive leads soon a review team, led by an assistant chief constable, assisted by a senior investigator and a team of other police personnel, would be soon breathing down his neck.

  It was his hope that the latest enquiries, both in West Yorkshire and North Yorkshire, would prove fruitful and ultimately negate the need for a review process to be carried out now, or indeed in the future.

  His head was feeling less cluttered, his mind clearing. But he ultimately needed the killers caught before they could strike again.

  It was time for Dylan to go into the Knapton enquiry debrief. He had hoped he would have heard from Jen to say that she had received the flowers - but there had been nothing.

  ‘Did you order the flowers and tell the florist I wanted them delivered today?’ he asked Vicky when he caught up with her in the corridor to the briefing room.

  ‘First thing. She hasn’t rung you?’

  Dylan shook his head.

  ‘That’s serious?’ Vicky’s face held a grimace. ‘You’re definitely in the dog house.’

  ‘It would appear so,’ said Dylan rolling his eyes.

  Vicky flopped down in the seat next to him as the troops continued to gather.

  ‘Rupert Charles’ wife’s car, is a Merc,’ whispered Vicky to Dylan.

  Dylan’s eyes grew wide. He opened his mouth as if to speak.

  A grin spread quickly across her face, ‘It’s old and silver,’ she said, turning to face the assembled with a playful punch on his arm. ‘Gotcha!’

  Dylan raised his hand. ‘Quiet!’

  The Knapton enquiry team personnel were immediately silenced. ‘I won’t keep you long,’ he said. ‘The purpose of this debrief is to share the intelligence we have gathered so far and to discuss the way forward.’ Dylan gave a little cough and cleared his throat. ‘We’ve had some success in gathering intelligence, identifying, and housing most of the group that used to hang around Groggs Park prior to Freddy Knapton’s murder. It is apparent from what people tell us that there was a growing tension between them and Knapton, and verbal threats had been made on both sides. This group, for your information, now congregate in the bus shelter outside the railway station. We are looking at the logistical arrangements to carry out multiple arrests so we can bring in as many of the group as possible. We should have the action plan out in the next twenty-four hours so we can do the raids the day after tomorrow. Questions?’

  ‘What age group are we looking at sir?’ came the question from the back of the room.

  ‘Late teens, early twenties,’ said Vicky. ‘Uniform will be assisting due to numbers.’

  Another hand was raised and Dylan lifted his chin in the officer’s direction, to acknowledge him. ‘Are we arresting or just tracing and eliminating?’

  ‘Arresting, but all will be made clear in the action plan which will be distributed in advance,’ said Vicky.

  There was a sea of nodding heads before Dylan, and a low murmuring spread like an incoming tidal wave rapidly around the room. Once again Dylan put his hand in the air which brought about silence. Vicky spoke. ‘We have nothing in writing but we have had a few anonymous phone calls to the incident room which point us in the direction of this group and we have a statement from Madge Teal who walks her dogs in the park twice a day. She’s no time for “foul mouth Freddy” as she named him. She tells us that Knapton’s dog nearly knocked her over and she would have been in a bit of a state had a kind gentleman not come to her assistance. This lady states that on the day before Knapton’s murder she witnessed angry shouting from this group. Due to the loud noises coming from inside the park - a dog bark
ing and growling, accompanied by bad language, she decided to stay on the grass close to the entrance to let her dogs do their duty, rather than venture inside the park,’ said Vicky. Vicky took a glance in Ned’s direction. ‘Duty, that’s crap to you.’ She carried on without drawing a breath. ‘Madge then says she saw Freddy being chased, stones were thrown and she heard a dog whimpering before she saw Satan limp out of the park, obviously injured. The group were apparently laughing raucously and at this point she tells me she felt sorry for the dog, but not for Knapton, never for Knapton. She said she was in fact glad that he was getting a touch of his own medicine.’

  ‘Is she aware if the gang caught up with Knapton on that occasion?’ said Dylan.

  ‘No, she said not and she was frozen to the spot as she watched this from the snicket that runs at the side of the park to the retirement flats where she lives.

  ‘Any news from forensics regarding the knife?’ said Dylan.

  ‘No,’ said Ned. ‘I’ll chase it up.’

  ‘Why didn’t this woman come forward before now?’ said Dylan.

  ‘She lives on her own and was worried about the possible consequences. But she changed her mind when she read about the dog being beheaded.’

  ‘It’s interesting that Freddy Knapton’s death didn’t prompt her to come forward but his dog being killed did.’

  ‘She’s an animal lover boss. She tells us she’s no time for the yobs. Bad on bad, she says,’ said Vicky.

  ‘We will be arresting the day after tomorrow, not tracing and eliminating,’ said Dylan to the audience.

  There was a distinct notable rise of morale in the room.

  Chapter Twenty

  The adrenalin that had rushed through his body at the debrief had petered out driving home. The delay in the town traffic that normally frustrated him, he welcomed. It gave him time to think. By the time he reached home he felt unusually anxious. He hadn’t spoken to Jen all day. The change in her mood last night had been welcomed but her distance today unprecedented. For some unknown reason he felt like he was on shaky ground.