When The Killing Starts: A DI Jack Dylan novel

by RC Bridgestock

‘Good. Thank you for ringing me and sharing that.’

  ‘Nobody likes murderers,’ Mike said. ‘I’ve got a young family too.’

  ‘Do you have the Jag on site?’

  ‘Yes, why?’

  ‘We’ll need to borrow it for a short time before they collect it. Is that okay with you?’

  ‘That’ll be two of my cars you’ll have. I’ll be out of business if this carries on. What do you call a short time?’

  ‘Just a few hours between now and a week on Monday. Tell me have you got any plans to hire the jaguar out between now and when they collect it?’

  ‘It’s not booked out to anyone at this moment in time, no. But I can’t turn custom away.’

  ‘I understand. Look, I’ll see what we can do about giving you something so you don’t lose out. We may have to modify the car slightly, but the modification won’t be visible, or cause any damage, I promise.’

  ‘I guess the less I know the better,’ he said. Mike Talbot took a deep breath.

  ‘I’ll get back to you later today,’ said Dylan. ‘I want the car to be ready just in case the Devlins’ plans change and they want it earlier. One other thing, I don’t suppose you know what the phone number Mr Devlin rang on do you?’ asked Dylan.

  ‘No, sorry, the call came direct into the admin office and I was passed the message.’

  ‘Never mind. Thanks again for ringing. I’ll be back in touch.’

  Police officers needed the eyes and ears of the public, always have, always would, that along with a bit of luck and tenacity he knew got results - if only every police officer took that into account when dealing with the general public.

  Dylan could feel the adrenaline pumping and in quick time a list was written. Get hold of the technical department to fit the following to the Jaguar, tracking device, camera, microphone. The Devlins would have to strip the Jaguar to find them. These men were suspected serial killers and therefore he would get the necessary authorisations written up and signed quickly, for this necessary and intrusive surveillance. The last thing he wanted was to put Mike Talbot in danger. He would not risk that anything could be traced back to him. If Dylan thought it would be, he would stand down the operation. Thanks to Mike he now knew that the main targets for operation Artichoke, the name given to the Merton Manor murder enquiry, would be back in their sights soon. He didn’t know where they were at the moment but it was a gift that he had time to plan and, as Inspector Stonestreet always told him, ‘failing to plan was planning to fail.’ There was no time to lose in ensuring covert observations commenced at the garage a couple of days prior to the given date. He would leave nothing to chance, in case the targets turned up sooner than anticipated.

  Dylan would have to discuss the strategy with Terry Hawk to locate both men using surveillance. A meeting needed to be imminent to work out a joint approach to arrest the brothers, and recover evidence. No time like the present, he picked up the phone.

  ‘Now then mate. How you doing?’ Terry’s voice was upbeat. ‘Sorry to hear about your and Jens loss. Bad news travels fast. How are you both?’

  The hairs on the back of Dylan’s neck rose. ‘How on earth did you hear about it?’

  ‘Another bloody mandatory course for management, would you believe they are re-inventing the health and safety wheel. Why they can’t just let us get on with real police work these days I’ll never know. The lovely Avril Summerfield-Preston made a beeline for me, she knew that I was working with you. She soon scurried off though when I made it obvious I wasn’t in the business of gossip.’

  ‘Ah, enough said.’ Dylan’s nostrils flared. ‘It hit us like a thunderbolt Terry to be honest. Jen’s still... Well you can imagine. Knocked us both for six. In our job we have to make tough decisions but when they affect the people you love... it’s... well it’s not good.’

  ‘Contrary to some people’s belief we are still human beings, even if we are a bit damaged. Look forward not back is my motto. We’ve no choice but to go on...’

  ‘Talking of going on, I’ve just had a phone call. It appears the Devlin’s are about to surface. We’ve no intelligence that suggests where they are at the moment but I think it’d be good to meet up to discuss our approach in dealing with them when they do. They’ve reserved another hire car from Redchester.’

  ‘Great news! I agree. It’ll be good to set eyes on those two bastards. What d’you say we meet up for brunch about eleven o’clock tomorrow in Harrowfield? That hotel, just off the M62 where you took me before, The Waterfront Lodge, Prego in Brighouse. I’ll see you there.’

  ‘Looking forward to it.’

  When he put down the phone Dylan’s thoughts turned to forensics - he hadn’t had a call regarding the findings in relation to the Mercedes. He was impatient. He wanted results. Unwittingly his fingers tapped the desk. This evil pair were the slaughterers of a young family and they may have gone on to kill Cedric Oakley. His evidence would have to be indisputable to ensure the CPS would think the case acceptable to take forward. Budgets were tighter than ever, court dates months away, prisons full. They hadn’t recovered the weapon which had been used in the murders, he hoped and prayed it still existed. Even if it was recovered, he knew they would still have to evidence it in the hands of the Devlin brothers.

  En route to the CPS office meeting Dylan looked down at the car’s fuel gauge. Seeing it at under a quarter full, he made for the nearest garage. From there he drove on the back road past Sibden Park. The day was bright and fresh and he looked down the parkland to the boating lake, his eyes scanning the empty swings for Maisy. Seeing a Golden Retriever racing across the grass he instinctively knew it was Max. He steered the car into the entrance of the grounds. From where he parked he could see Maisy pushing her dolls pram, every couple of steps she stopped to tuck baby in as she had a habit of doing and it made his heart swell with love. Jen walked slowly a few steps behind encouraging their little girl with a tap of her hand on her shoulder, every now and again, to walk on. Her head was down, her demeanour sad. He wondered if she was thinking how it would be, if only... Dylan got out of the car and whistled long and low, the whistle he used to call Max. It brought a smile to his face to see the dog stop suddenly in his tracks, stand perfectly still - his ears standing tall. He looked around and then to Jen’s obvious surprise, Max started running. He ran long, he ran hard, he ran fast in Dylan’s direction and no amount of calling from Jen could stop him. Maisy saw Dylan before Jen did and, leaving her pram behind, she too ran stumbling over grass sods and twigs in his direction.

  Dylan felt once again like a boy as he ran in her direction, arms open wide. Fussing Max with one hand he held Maisy up in his arms in another. ‘Boy, you are getting heavy young ‘un,’ he said as Jen reached them. He gave Jen a crushing hug. ‘Hello missus,’ he said.

  ‘What are you doing here?’ she said smiling broadly.

  ‘I was just passing and saw Max in the park so I thought I’d pull in and see how you were?’

  ‘I’m fine.’

  Dylan scowled at her. Maisy seeing her daddy’s face put two fingers either side of his mouth and upturned his lips in a smile. He tickled the little girl and made her laugh.

  ‘No.’ Jen laughed. ‘Really I am,’ she said at his furrowed brow. ‘I need to get back to normal. Aren’t you supposed to be busy? Maisy hasn’t seen you properly for days.’

  ‘On my way to a meeting at CPS; you got a problem with me stopping to buy my favourite girl a coffee and,’ he said turning to Maisy, ‘If I’m not mistaken yours might be a chocolate milkshake m’lady?’

  He stood Maisy on the floor at his feet. ‘A big one!’ she said sticking out her tummy. Grinning broadly, she hot footed it towards the cafe entrance which was part of the Sibden Hall building.

  It was the first time since losing the baby Dylan had seen Jen’s lips form a real smile, a smile that reached her eyes.

  ‘You sure you’ve got time?’ she said, seeming a little flustered. She bent down and put her handle on Maisy
’s pram. ‘Hey, come back here for your dolly,’ she called.

  Dylan lay a reassuring hand upon Jen’s shoulder. ‘Everything else can wait,’ he said, guiding her gently toward the cafe. Jen hooked up to him and rested her head on his arm as they walked. ‘This is nice. We come here every afternoon after Maisy finishes at the childminders.’

  ‘Do you really? You never said before.’

  ‘You never asked. It’s something that I will miss when we move.’

  ‘So we are still moving then?’

  ‘I’d like to. If the right house comes up for sale.’

  ‘I think it would do us all good.’

  ‘Maisy's been asking where you are every night before she goes to bed. She misses you. And sometimes when she gets up in a morning she looks all over for you, calling out your name.’ Dylan felt uneasy. Maisy was growing up fast, becoming more observant. It wouldn’t be easy for her to understand his work. How did you explain to a young child that someone else needed their parent more than they did when there was a bedtime story to read, or a scratch to kiss better? It was hard enough for a partner of a police officer to come to terms with never mind a youngster.

  The cafe in the park was clean and tidy and empty of customers. The tranquillity, pretty linen embroidered table cloths draped over the small square tables, china tea cups and homemade cupcakes, were a world apart from the hustle and bustle of the incident room and talk of murder. The ‘normal’ anyone in the job needed from time to time to stay sane, including Dylan, he thought sinking his teeth into a warm homemade buttered scone with jam. He chuckled with Jen to see Maisy chasing a Malteser around her plate with a teaspoon, the decoration from the piece of chocolate cake she had already devoured.

  ‘It’s like a party isn’t it?’ Maisy said joyfully without taking her eye off the sweet, and the spoon. The tip of her little pink tongue showed itself between tight little red, bow lips. Something she had taken to doing when she was concentrating.

  ‘Yeah, it is,’ said Dylan with a smile in his voice.

  Capturing the prized sweet and crunching it happily her smile turned to a frown when she lifted her eyes to his. ‘Daddy, why are you not smiling?’

  Dylan looked from Maisy to Jen. ‘I am smiling, look.’ Dylan showed his teeth his smile was so wide.

  She shrugged her rounded shoulders. There was a moments pause. Maisy looked back at him. ‘When you’re on the telly, and in your newspaper you’re not smiling,’ she rolled her eyes. With that she looked at the chocolate cream on her finger and she licked it clean. ‘It makes me and Max sad.’

  Dylan and Jen looked across the table at each other puzzled.

  ***

  The faces of Declan and Damien Devlin were displayed on Dylan’s computer screen. He sat for a moment staring at the mug shots. The cold blooded killers? The task ahead felt as though the team were about to snare wild animals, and snare them they would, no matter what it took. These two had cut their teeth on petty crimes, and crime had always been their way of life it seemed. Progressively, their records showed they had become more and more violent. Was it inevitable that one day they’d turn to murder? When the killing starts they had reached the climax of their careers and there was only one way now for them to go and that was down.

  ‘Do you really think we’ve enough to link the incident with North Yorkshire,’ said Andy Wormald as they walked across the car park together to their respective cars, Dylan en route to meet the North Yorkshire Detective Inspector.

  ‘Not yet Andy, but I’ve got a gut feeling that it won’t be long in coming.’ I’ll see you in the incident room later,’ he said as the two parted company.

  ***

  ‘I like my full English breakfast Terry but looking at that stacked plate of yours I’m ready to admit defeat.’

  ‘Hash browns, black pudding, full bag of bangers, Jack, sets me up for the day.’

  ‘Did you manage to speak to our crime prevention officer?’ said Dylan as he tucked into his bacon and eggs. I saw him in the yard the other day but by the time I got outside he’d got into his car and driven away.’

  ‘No not yet, he’s still outstanding. Don’t worry he’s not a priority we’ll get around to seeing him. He can’t evade us forever. It’s a pity we can’t house the Devlins though,’ Terry said while he ate.

  ‘We have no intelligence whatsoever of a permanent address. Mike Talbot at the car hire company seems to think they might live abroad.’

  ‘It’s worrying that they might be planning to carry out another job, hence their need for this car,’ said Terry.

  ‘Once they pick the car up we’ll have surveillance on them around the clock?’

  ‘I don’t think we have any choice Jack. Let’s hope they lead us to an address or a collection point to pick up a weapon.’

  ‘Twenty-four-hour surveillance is going to be expensive but it’s got to be done, and we must be in a position to strike at any time,’ said Dylan.

  ‘You and I know we’ve got circumstantial evidence but by no means enough to hold and charge them without catching them in possession of firearms. Both forces of course will share the cost of surveillance but let’s agree if they remain in your county, you take precedence as the SIO and we’ll swap if they enter North Yorkshire.’

  ‘Agreed. What a bonus it would be to catch them with the gun they’ve already used twice.’

  ‘Are we going to be that lucky Dylan do you think?’

  ‘Time will tell. Now, I just have to persuade the Assistant Chief Constable that we don’t have an alternative but to have twenty-four-hour surveillance, and since the last time I saw him was when I had him over the desk after the promotion board fiasco, you’d better wish me luck.’

  Terry chuckled. ‘I’ll back you up.’

  ‘Not even he can let two suspected armed killers wander around the county looking for their next prey without doing all we can to protect the public.’

  ‘I think as long as the paperwork is in place, just in case the wheels come off, he’ll be happy Jack. The killing has started now we need to stop it.’

  ‘I propose we’ll have the team doing back to back twelve hour shifts once we’re up and running and work the senior cover between us? That’ll mean you might have to spend a few days down here.’

  ‘Not a problem, I’ll stay here,’ he said as young Kelly the waitress came to clear up the plates.

  ‘You up to no good Jack Dylan?’ she said with her typical smile. ‘Wait till I tell Jen I found you in here having a full breakfast on a weekday.’

  Chapter Twenty Six

  ‘We’re going to have to think of some way to make it easier for Maisy to understand,’ Jen whispered to Dylan as she stroked the head of the sleeping child.

  ‘Understand what?’ Dylan said softly.

  ‘She noted you didn’t smile when you were on TV again today.’

  It was nine o’clock and Jen was checking on Maisy. Dylan was still in his suit having just returned from work. He held his tie to his shirt as he bent down to kiss Maisy’s brow. She flinched at his featherlight touch. ‘They’d have been reporting on the Knapton enquiry from court I guess.’ Dylan murmured. He followed Jen out of the room. Dylan walked across the landing towards their bedroom and taking one last look at their daughter Jen pulled Maisy’s door too.

  ‘I turned the TV off immediately and then the evening paper came through the letter box,’ she said walking into their bedroom. She pulled the curtains too. ‘Half past two in an afternoon and the evening paper is on the doormat. She ran and picked it up and your picture was on the front page - guess what?’

  ‘I’m not smiling.’ Dylan pulled on his slippers.

  Jen nodded. She walked in front of him down the stairs.

  It was nine-thirty when Dylan and Jen sat down to the evening meal.

  ‘She asked me why I wasn’t smiling before, that day at Sibden in the cafe, do you remember? I wonder why it upsets her?’ asked Dylan, picking up his knife and fork and stabbing a chunk of
meat in the meat and potato pie. The warm, homemade meal tasted good. He hadn’t eaten since his brunch with Terry Hawk.

  ‘I think I know. Little Jude and Holly across the road, who go to the childminders with Maisy?’

  ‘Mmm...’

  ‘His mum, Joanna was on breakfast TV the other week and she waved and said, ‘Hello’ to them. All the children watched it together with Chantall. It’s crossed my mind that when you’re on TV you’re more often than not appealing for witnesses to a murder, or the like, so I guess you have a similar look on your face as when you’re sad or cross?’

  ‘When I’m talking about murder I can hardly smile, wave and say, “Hi Maisy” can I?’ said Dylan lifting his glass to take a long drink of his water. He put the glass down on the table and held the cool drinking vessel in his hand for a moment. ‘What do you suggest I do?’

  ‘I don’t know. I’ve been wracking my brains to try and think of something. I can stop watching the news and leaving the TV on when I’m not in the lounge, in case there’s a newsflash. Then, like I say she sees you in the newspaper. I can try and stop her seeing that but that’s not the answer is it? What if she’d seen you with that bloody great bust lip the other year? She’s only going to get more observant, more inquisitive and more sensitive to other people’s expressions and moods as she gets older. One of her favourite games when she can see herself in a mirror is pulling faces, shocked face, happy face, sad face... I’ve tried explaining to her that you’re at work and Jude’s mummy was not at work, but that just went over her head. She’s just too young to understand why you act differently at work.’

  They ate in silence until Dylan had finished his plate of food and Jen had pushed half of hers to one side. She stood up. Cleared the table and brought him a slice of cake and a cup of coffee. Dylan had been reading the headlines of the evening newspaper. Acknowledging her return to the table by touching her hand affectionately, Jen smiled sleepily at him.