Don't Turn Around: A dark, thrilling, page-turner of a crime novel (Detective Jennifer Knight Crime Thriller Series Book 1)

by Caroline Mitchell

  PS Knight: Sam look at me. I need you to speak your responses instead of nodding your head. For the purposes of the tape, do you understand?

  Sam Beswick: Yeah, I get it.

  PS Knight: Thank you. Now to go back to my original question. Tell me what you know about Tina’s death starting from the beginning up to the present day.

  Sam Beswick: It was all Frank’s idea. I thought he was bluffing. I guess I should have known, because his face used to light up when he’d talk about killing. I can’t believe I’m here. I can’t believe I’m sitting here talking about a murder.

  PS Knight: You were telling me about Frank.

  Sam Beswick: He … he told me to offer Tina some money to come back to my place. He said he’d hide and when we had … well, Tina was a whore. I think they went back a long way. Anyway, Frank brought in this massive suitcase and said he was gonna bump her off. I didn’t think he’d go through with it. You’ve got to believe me, (inaudible) I didn’t know.

  PS Knight: What happened next?

  Sam Beswick: I brought her back and Frank hid in the bathroom. But I knew he was listening and I couldn’t, you know, do it. Tina got real mean, pulling at my pants, telling me to hurry up. I didn’t want her touching me so I hit her, you know, to get her off me. She went into the bathroom to clean up. Frank was waiting. I thought maybe that he’d let her go, say it was a wind up. The next thing I know, she’s screaming …

  PS Knight: Go on.

  Sam Beswick: (Sigh) Oh man, this is hard. If I say all this now, I don’t have to keep talking about it, do I?

  PS Knight: I can’t promise that, but if you give us a clear account now, then it’s less likely you’ll need to go over it as often.

  Sam Beswick: Frank came out of the bathroom holding Tina up off the ground. She was kicking like crazy. He had her in a kind of bear hug, with the shower curtain wrapped around her head. There was blood on the inside of the curtain, but I guess that’s from where she split her lip. I almost shit my pants when I seen her, I couldn’t believe he was going through with it. He threw her on the bed and made me tie her up. When I saw how strong he was, I … I couldn’t leave. It was awful, I’ve never hurt anyone before, you've got to believe me. Oh God! (Sobbing).

  PS Knight: Sam?

  Sam Beswick: (Sniffled) Everything was going so fast, I couldn’t stop it. You know like when you’re on a fairground ride with your friends and you’re meant to enjoy it? They’re all smiling, but it’s frightening the crap out of you, and you don’t want to start screaming because you might not stop? … No, I don’t suppose you know how that feels at all.

  PS Knight: You were saying she was on the bed?

  Sam Beswick: Um, yes. Frank gave me a pillow and told me to put it on her face and sit on it. He told me he’d killed someone like that before. I didn’t want to, but he said if we let Tina go, her pimp would slice me up. But he kept saying it with a smile on his face. It was really creepy, like he’d lost his mind.

  PS Knight: What happened next?

  Sam Beswick: I did as he said. After a couple of minutes I stood up. Frank … he pulled back the pillow and said she was dead. That’s when I threw up. I wanted to call the cops but Frank started flashing his knife about. I thought he was going to kill me too.

  PS Knight: And what did you do then?

  Sam Beswick: Nothing. Frank, um, he cleaned up the flat and got rid of the body.

  PS Knight: Sam, I sense you’re hesitating there. Did anything else happen that you’re not telling me about?

  Sam Beswick: No. He ... he just got rid of her. I stayed in the bathroom the whole time. After that, he just took off. In one way I was relieved, but in another way, I needed him around to tell me it would be all right. I didn’t know what to do. I’m not a bad person. I wish I never met Frank Foster.

  PS Knight: I’m not judging you Sam. My job right now to get an accurate account of what happened.

  Sam Beswick: Uh huh. After it happened, I couldn’t sleep in that bed anymore. I couldn’t sleep at all. I got stoned a lot, to block it out. I couldn’t understand how he could be so happy about it. He draws pictures of dead people. He’s really fucked up.

  PS Knight: Why didn’t you call if you knew what he was planning?

  Sam Beswick: I already said, I didn’t think he’d do it. Tina would leave, we’d have a laugh, and that would be the end of it.

  PS Knight: And afterwards?

  Sam Beswick: For the first few weeks I was numb. I kept seeing Tina everywhere. It was really messing with my head. I even thought about topping myself. Then Frank came back. He seemed like his old self. I thought maybe things would get better. But then he started planning on doing it again. That’s when I came to you.

  PS Knight: OK, I’ll need to talk to you about that, but I need to ask you a question first. Was there anything more than friendship between you and Frank?

  Sam Beswick: What sort of a question is that?

  PS Knight: I wouldn’t ask you anything that wasn’t relevant.

  Sam Beswick: (Chair screeching) Oh man, oh man, when he finds out I’ve come to you …

  PS Knight: Sit down Sam. I can’t talk to you when you’re standing up.

  Sam Beswick: I don’t want to be anywhere near him when he finds out. Are you listening to me? He’s a psycho! A complete psycho!

  PS Knight: Either you sit down now or I’m terminating this interview.

  … thank you. Now, you were about to tell me about your relationship with Frank.

  Sam Beswick: (inaudible)

  PS Knight: Speak up please, I can’t hear you.

  Sam Beswick: When I first met him he acted as if he liked me, but now I think he’ll kill me. Nothing happened between us though. I think he’s been playing games with me all along.

  PS Knight: Sam, why did you ask to speak to me?

  Sam Beswick: I found your card in his jacket pocket. I figured he must have been carrying it around for ages, it was so worn. It felt like a sign, finding your name like that. I knew what I had to do.

  PS Knight: You said Frank has killed people in the past and he’s planning another murder. What do you know about it?

  Sam Beswick: He’s planning another one and wants me with him. I don’t know who it is, but it’s something big. I … I guessed if I could stop him, I could somehow make up for killing Tina. But it’s all his fault, now I’m gonna end up going to prison, aren’t I? (Sobbing.)

  PS Knight: Sam, I can see you’re upset, but I need as much information as I can so we can begin to put things in place.

  Sam Beswick: (Sniffles loudly) I don’t know much more. He’s pissed off with some woman, wants to teach her a lesson. I told him to go it alone, but he said if I even thought about going to the cops he’d kill me. I told him I’d rather die than grass on him, but he’s on to me, I know it.

  PS Knight: I need more than that. In order to arrest Frank we need evidence, and so far all you’ve given me is hearsay.

  Sam Beswick: I’ve put my balls on the line coming to you, so don’t sit there and say you’re gonna do nothing about it! Don’t you see? He’s a murderer! Oh God, what if he finds me?

  PS Knight: Sam, calm down. We’ll act on your information, but I need to know more. Start by telling me about his past murders, and we can work from there.

  Sam Beswick: He’s got a sketchbook. He keeps it hidden. He showed me a couple of drawings. One was of this old guy, tied in a chair. He had a rag in his mouth and there were flames coming from the chair.

  PS Knight: Give me as much detail as you can remember from that picture.

  Sam Beswick: It wasn’t like it was a photo or anything, it was just a sketch. He was sitting in a wide chair with arm rests. There wasn’t any detail of the clothes he was wearing, just his face. Frank said the guy was a paedo and deserved to die.

  PS Knight: Did he say where he was from?

  Sam Beswick: Frank travels all around. He was a delivery driver for a while and it took him all over. The guy in the chair look
ed old, and I’d say he had white or grey hair. I don’t know when it happened, but I would say it’s been in the last few years.

  PS Knight: Would you recognise the man if we showed you a picture?

  Sam Beswick: Maybe. I only looked at the picture a couple of times, but his face stood out. I think I’d remember him.

  PS Knight: You said that Frank tells tall tales, makes up stories. Why do you believe he’s killed before?

  Sam Beswick: It’s the look in his face when he talks about it, and – I remember now – he said his mum was reading about it in the local paper when she was alive. He used to live somewhere else with her before she died. It can’t be too far away.

  PS Knight: Can you remember anything else about that sketch? Even the smallest detail?

  Sam Beswick: No. Nothing. There was one other picture he showed me. It was a woman, she looked dead too. She was lying back on a sofa, her hand was outstretched like she was reaching for something. I mentioned it to Frank and he laughed and said he had killed her by leaning on a cushion over her face. He thought it was really funny. He said she was an old bitch and had been rude to him. When he talked about stuff like that, he would smile and hold his head to one side like he was talking about going to a wedding, or a good night out. I had to try to smile along with him, like it was the most normal thing in the world to kill someone for being rude to you.

  Jennifer paused the tape as she gathered her thoughts. The interview was intense, yet her mother was doing everything she could to keep it calm and controlled. She must have been under pressure knowing her superiors were listening in. She stood and stretched her legs. Her hand ached from transcribing, but she needed notes she could refer back to, particularly if she was following the lines of enquiry from home rather than the police station where is should be progressed. DI Allison claimed he was her friend, yet he showed a complete lack of faith when she came to him for help. She rubbed the tiredness from her face. She wanted to make coffee, to take a break and process the interview. But she had to keep going, to bring herself back into the interview room with Sam and Elizabeth. It was the only way she could pick up any clues to the current day murders that took up her thoughts during every waking moment. It was not as if she was going to get any sleep that night anyway. She sat back down and pressed ‘play’.

  PS Knight: Thank you Sam, I know this isn’t easy for you. Can you remember what the woman looked like in the picture? Again, any indicator of time, location, anything like that?

  Sam Beswick: She was big, well, fat really. She had short curly hair. Frank was good at drawing. He puts a lot of detail into facial expressions. She was wearing some kind of dress. I remember him joking that she didn’t give him a tip. Yeah, that’s it, it was around Christmas, when he did some volunteering for the Salvation Army. What a joke. Can I have a break now? I need a whizz.

  PS Knight: If I get you a pencil and paper do you think you could draw what you saw?

  Sam Beswick: I could try.

  PS Knight: In that case, I’m going to stop the interview to get you some drawing materials. Would you object to me bringing in another officer when I continue the interview?

  Sam Beswick: I don’t want anyone else.

  PS Knight: Sam, it’s up to you if you speak with them or not, but as you say, you want Frank to be brought to justice for his alleged crimes, and you want to stop other people from potentially being murdered. I’m happy to come in alone with some drawing materials, but bear in mind that this is what we call a ‘first account’ interview. We’re making background enquiries as we speak about what you’ve told us, but we will need to conduct a further interview in greater detail. Is there anything further you want to add before I switch off the tapes?

  Sam Beswick: Can I go to the toilet now?

  PS Knight: The time is 14.10 hours, first interview concluded.

  The tape revealed nothing more as it squeaked to the end, and Jennifer ejected it from the machine. It was difficult to associate the authoritative voice on tape with the one who had cared for her as a child. Maybe it was easier that way. Sergeant Knight was, by the sounds of it, a very good detective. She looked after her interviewee without bowing to them, and although the murder investigation team would have grilled Sam in greater detail, Elizabeth had a good way of extracting the important points. Sam was not what she had expected at all. His emotions were all over the place, and there was no doubt Frank had groomed the young loner for his own use. Jennifer wished she could jump back in time and speak to her mother about the case. She tried to imagine what Elizabeth would be doing if she was still alive. Her mouth rose in a half smile. She would probably be running the station by now, ignoring the politics and getting to ground level, to the people that really counted. From what she had heard, nobody could doubt Elizabeth’s loyalty to the people of Haven. Jennifer knew it was time to do her bit too. But for this battle she had to gather all her strength, in both her police training and the gift of intuition she had neglected for so long. Although she tried to hide it, the extra sense she had carried since childhood kept coming back, and perhaps that was the way it was meant to be. Now was the time to gather every ounce of strength she could. She would wear it like armour to defend herself from a killer who was more dead than alive.

  29 Chapter Twenty-nine

  Jennifer tapped her steering wheel as the car in front of her came to a halt. The brake lights of the Nissan Micra had been flashing on and off for the last ten minutes as the traffic in front of her slowed. She was going to be late again. She was not as concerned about her miserable punctuality record as she was about the wasted time sitting in her car. She needed to be in her office, making enquiries into Shelly’s whereabouts. Jennifer slipped her phone from her jacket pocket, her finger hovering over the text button. Her sister was already getting suspicious about the amount of random texts asking about Josh. Tutting under her breath, she threw her phone on the seat and rested her elbow on the car window ledge. Time was running out. If she didn’t come up with something soon … She flinched as a car horn blared from behind, and scowled in her rear view mirror in reciprocation. Just what was the hold up? She craned her neck over the steering wheel to see the blue flashing light in the distance. It was the same car that had sped past her earlier, and the outcome did not look good. This is all I need – an RTC first thing in the morning, she thought, as she placed a police business card on her dashboard and parked on the grass verge. Walking towards the bridge, she watched as officers stood, heads together in discussion, while another unrolled scene tape. A police car parked diagonally blocked entry to the bridge. Jennifer walked past the rows of cars, feeling the frustration of her fellow drivers on their way to work.

  A skinny young police officer walked towards her, waving his hands to prevent entry. ‘We’re putting a scene guard on here, you can’t come any further.’

  Jennifer slid her warrant card from her back trouser pocket and introduced herself.

  The officer dropped his hands. ‘Oh sorry, didn’t realise you were police.’

  ‘That’s OK, I’m just on my way in, what’s the problem?’ Jennifer asked, noticing that her earlier guess of a road traffic collision was misjudged.

  The officer pointed down to the grassy path leading under the bridge. ‘Joggers found a body at the edge of the water this morning. Backup’s on its way, but we’ve had to put up a road diversion in the meantime. Your lot are due here any minute.’ His radio beeped as he received a point to point direct call, and he nodded an apology as he turned to answer it.

  Jennifer rubbed her arms as visions of Shelly came to the forefront of her mind. A heavy night’s sleep had left her feeling disjointed, and she had woken to hear Shelly’s name being whispered in her ear. Two more cars arrived on the scene, along with the marine unit, and diversion signs were displayed to offer drivers alternative routes. Jennifer’s high heels sank into the grass verge as she strode towards the uniformed sergeant. His fluorescent coat looked the worse for wear as it strained over his port
ly stomach. ‘Hello Sarge, has the body has been identified yet?’

  ‘Jennifer, have they turned you out for this?’ His surprise was not lost on her.

  Jennifer held his gaze. ‘No. I was on my way to work when I got held up in the traffic.’

  ‘We don’t know who she is. Middle-aged woman, looks a bit ravaged. Nobody’s been reported missing yet.’

  Jennifer nodded. ‘I’m wondering if it’s one of our local Toms, Shelly Easton. The last time I saw her she wasn’t in a great state of mind. Her boyfriend hung himself recently and I’m wondering if she’s topped herself too.’

  The sergeant sighed. ‘We’ve closed down the scene until the duty DI gets here.’ His eyes darted under the bridge as he frowned. ‘I suppose it wouldn’t do any harm for you to have a quick look to see if you could identify her, move things along before CSI get here. Check in with the officer holding the scene log over there.’

  Jennifer reported her presence to the officer and placed the white overshoes over her heels to prevent forensic contamination. The traffic began to clear as cars were diverted, and police tape now secured both paths of entry underneath the bridge, where the body was still in situ. The path leading down to the scene was usually wet and muddy, and Jennifer was grateful for the hard night of frost that assisted her descent. She scanned every inch of the ground for visual clues as she tried to keep her balance. The familiar feeling of dread overcame her as she approached the edge of the river, and the flash of orange clothing confirmed what she already knew. A lone officer stood a few feet away to prevent onlookers cutting through the tape. She vaguely recognised him as a dog handler by the nickname of Mutley, and guessed he had been in the area when the call came in. He nodded in recognition, his hands tucked under his stab vest as he jigged impatiently in the frosty air. ‘Morning. Have they said when I can be released yet? I’m freezing my nuts off here.’ Pulling out a ragged tissue, he loudly blew his nose to drive home the point.