Today, the Yorkshire Post have learned that Guernsey police are investigating the suspicious death of escaped serial-killer, Billy Wallace, following a violent struggle with Barnwell Murder Detective, Hunter Kerr on the Channel Island of Sark.
Hunter could feel the back of his neck reddening as he read on. The article was a blow-by-blow account of his and his father’s encounter with escaped prisoner Billy Wallace, which included the part where Billy had fallen into the sea, stating: police are still searching for his body. The half-page spread finished with a standard police quote from the detective leading the investigation, saying that they couldn’t comment further whilst enquiries were ongoing, which always made it sound as if the person was guilty. That he was guilty. Thankfully, there had been no mention of Jonathan. He had been spared that. This was not good. How the fuck have they got wind of this? The alarm bells started ringing in Hunter’s head. St. John-Stevens. This was his way of hitting back. This could get him sent home on gardening leave until at least the Coroner’s Inquest ended on Guernsey. He could be away from work for months. Fuck! There was only one way he would be able to find out who had leaked this story. As much as he didn’t want to, he had to ring Zita back.
She answered almost straight away. ‘Have they got their facts right, Hunter? Did this happen straight after his escape?’
‘Not straight away, Zita, but it was not long after. It was back in September.’
‘A month ago? Why didn’t you tell me?’
‘Because I knew what the headlines would be. Well, not as dramatic as the Yorkshire Post’s, but I knew they would be fairly dramatic. And anyway, you know this is sensitive. It’s still an ongoing investigation. If I’d have told you, I would have been in serious trouble. In fact, if I say too much now, I could end up in trouble for prejudicing the enquiry.’
She snorted down the line. ‘Bullshit, Hunter Kerr, and you know it. I always protect my source. I would protect you.’ She paused a few seconds, and then solemnly she asked, ‘Is there more to this story, Hunter?’
‘God no, Zita. It was an accident. You know Billy’s background. You followed his original trial two years ago after he had killed all those retired detectives up in Scotland and tried to kill my dad. As you know, he escaped from Barlinnie jail at the beginning of September, and because he’d tried to kill my dad it was decided that it would be best if we went somewhere safe until he’d been caught. We all went to Sark because that’s where my wife’s parents are living, and he somehow found out and followed us there. He tried to shoot us and I tackled him, and he went over the cliff. That’s the story, Zita. Nothing suspicious.’
‘Can I say Billy tried to shoot you? The Yorkshire Post haven’t got that info.’
‘That’s what happened, Zita. My dad got injured by a stray bullet. Thankfully, not serious. Though, I’d appreciate it if you didn’t quote me on that. As I say, I’m not supposed to say anything because of the investigation and the inquest coming up, but I need to defend myself against this story. They’ve made it sound as though I’m to blame.’
‘You know I won’t attribute the story or quotes to you. I’ll make it read as though I’ve got it from a source on Sark.’
‘I’d appreciate that, Zita.’
‘Is there anything else you can give me?’
‘There is nothing else, Zita. That’s the story. He tried to kill us and I tried to stop him. He went over the cliff. That’s it.’ After a short pause, he said, ‘I’d appreciate sight of it before it goes to print. I know I can’t stop it, but I could amend any inaccuracies.’
‘Done.’
‘Oh, and just one more thing before you hang up. You wouldn’t happen to know where the Yorkshire Post got the story from, do you?’
‘I spoke with Andy, the reporter who wrote the story, and he told me it came from an anonymous source. I know him, and told him “bullshit,” but he assures me it was. He sounded genuine when he told me. He said a man rung him up late yesterday afternoon and gave him the story. He told me the man wouldn’t give his name, and so after he rang off, he made a phone call to Guernsey Police, who confirmed they were conducting the investigation. I believe him.’
‘Thank you, Zita.’
‘I’ll get the copy across to you before it goes to my editor, so you can see what I’ve written. I’ll tell it as it is, don’t worry.’
‘I can’t do anything else except trust you, Zita. I’ll return the favour, if I can.’
‘I know you will.’
When she ended the call, Hunter opened up the Yorkshire Post story again and re-read it. There was nothing within the article to suggest the source, but in his own mind he knew who it was attributable to. He could already feel the rage bubbling to the surface. He needed to get out of the office before he did some damage.
Fighting back the need to burst into St. John-Stevens’ office and throttle the life out of him, Hunter hurried down to the basement changing room, quickly changed into his training kit and entered the gym. It was empty, which pleased him, because it meant that no one would see the eruption that was about to explode from him. He headed straight for the punchbag, launching himself at it, delivering punch after punch at high speed, only stopping when he was forced to draw breath. As he wiped the sweat from his brow, his knuckles stung and drawing them back, he saw they were red raw. If he carried on any longer, he knew they would bleed and so he turned to kicking the bag, waist and chest high, karate style, until again he was out of breath. All of that had taken ten minutes but he felt better, and after finishing with another ten minutes of sit-ups and press-ups, he made for the shower.
As the warm jet hit the back of his neck, although wrath towards St. John-Stevens still ate away at him, he no longer had the urge to thump him. Besides, his knuckles were too sore to start throwing punches. He got dressed, and feeling a lot better he made his way back to the office where he found Maddie at her desk, just hanging up the phone.
‘Morning, Hunter,’ she addressed him brightly, her face a beacon of smiles. ‘I dropped Libbie off early at my mum’s, so I could chase up some phone calls regarding Tina Bannister.’
‘That smile tells me you’ve had some success,’ Hunter replied, sinking down heavily in his chair. Suddenly, he felt drained.
‘I have,’ she answered cheerily. ‘First of all, I’ve spoken briefly with Dr Bhatia, Tina’s GP. He sounds as sharp as a knife for someone in their eighties. He remembers Tina well and is prepared to talk to us. I just wanted to fix a time and date with you before I arrange anything.’
‘Good,’ Hunter returned, gently rubbing his knuckles, which were now starting to ache. He was regretting hitting the punchbag so hard.
‘And secondly,’ Maddie interjected, before he could say anything else, ‘that phone call I’ve just finished was with one of Tina’s closest friends, a Julie Swift, who’s now living in Manchester. Alice found her details in one of her old address books and left me a voicemail.’
‘And has this Julie been helpful?’
‘Not in terms of giving us a lead, she hasn’t, but it was interesting getting another take on Tina.’
‘Okay, share it then, Maddie.’
‘Well, I’ve learned that she and Tina have been friends since comprehensive school. They sat next to each other in their first class and hit it off and then stayed in the same classes all the way through school. She told me that Tina lived with her mum in one of those council flats at Blenheim Place. She didn’t know if her dad was around or not, and she did ask Tina once about him, but Tina told her she didn’t know who her dad was and her mum would never tell her. Julie also told me that her mum was a waste of space. She spent more time at the pub than looking after Tina, and it appears Tina was very much left to her own devices. Julie told me that they would spend most of their time in the flat, playing music and drinking cider. Apparently, Tina’s place was an open house most nights, and there was always a crowd in there.
‘Julie told me that she envied Tina’s freedom as a teena
ger, but she did tell me that on a few occasions, when they were alone, Tina told her she hated her lifestyle and wished she had a proper mum and dad like other kids, which made her feel quite sorry for her. Julie also told me that there was always a small gang of lads turning up at the flat, the majority of them from the year above at school, because Tina had a bit of a reputation for being easy with the lads. She said that when she got older and they started going to the pubs, she always felt that Tina behaved like she did around lads because of the lack of love she got from her mum, and that the sex was more about being wanted than anything else.’ Maddie broke off, pulling a sad face. ‘I feel quite sorry for Tina. It looks like she probably carried that on into her adult life from what we’ve learned from Alice and George Evers.’
Hunter took in what Maddie had told him and said, ‘Did you ask her about any of these lads who came to the flat?’
‘Yes, she gave me a couple of names that I can chase up. She said that once they left school, they all lost touch. She’d occasionally bump into a couple of them, mostly on nights out, but as far as she was aware Tina didn’t date any of them. David was the first person Tina had a serious relationship with.’
‘Did Julie know David, then?’
‘She knew him from school, but he was never part of their crowd. She said he was so quiet at school that you wouldn’t give him a second look. She and Tina bumped into him at Christmas time, nineteen-eighty-eight, in the Stute working men’s club. Tina was drunk and spilled her lager over him, and they just got chatting. She said the pair ended up snogging by the end of the night, and the next thing she knew Tina and David were an item. She was a bridesmaid at their wedding in eighty-nine.’
‘Did you ask her about their marriage and mention the affair she had with David’s work colleague?’
‘I did. She said David was lovely and obviously besotted with Tina. On the other hand, she didn’t speak too highly of Tina. She said she felt a bit sorry for David because of what Tina was like. She thinks David wasn’t exciting enough for her and believes that was the reason she still flirted in the company of other blokes. But she did say that once Tina was pregnant with Amy, she seemed to settle down. Julie never saw Amy born because she was going out with the man she’s now married to, and he got a teaching post at a school in Hyde, so she moved away there with him. She last saw Tina at Amy’s christening. She said she spoke to her a few times on the phone after that, right up to the month before she disappeared, but she says she had no idea about her affair. And Julie did sound surprised when I told her about it. She thought Tina had changed. She told me that Tina talked an awful lot about Amy, and she was of the opinion things were good between her and David the last time she spoke to her.’
‘Tina obviously covered things up from what we now know.’
‘Obviously.’
‘So, we’re just left with speaking with her GP about her pregnancy?’
Maddie nodded.
‘Okay, we’ll do that and see where it takes us. I can’t think of anything else we can do. Ideally I’d like to get the samples tested from the Bannisters’ kitchen and I’d like to speak with Dylan Wolfe, if only to eliminate him, but St. John-Stevens made it abundantly clear both those things are out of bounds. We’ve a number of leads but we’re unable to pursue them. It’s so frustrating.’ Continuing to gently rub his knuckles, Hunter faced Maddie and said, ‘Now I need to tell you about what’s happened this morning.’ For the next five minutes, he told her about the article in that morning’s Yorkshire Post and his discussion with the reporter at the Chronicle.
When he’d finished, she said, ‘Oh, I’m so sorry, Hunter. I thought my life’s torrid at the moment with Libbie, but you’re going through a worse crisis than me, especially with what St. John-Stevens has done to you as well.’
Hunter held her gaze. ‘Between you and I, Maddie, I can’t prove it, but I think he’s behind the article. I can’t think how else they would have got hold of the information they have. The incident has been on the Guernsey news and there’s been a piece in the papers, but there was no mention of me in those. The other reason I’ve mentioned this is because over the next few days there might be a fair few phone calls from reporters, and I’d like you to answer them and tell them I’m on holiday or something. Would you do that, please?’
‘Absolutely. No problem, Hunter.’
‘Thank you. And now we’d better get on with some work. While I see what emails I’ve got, can you ring Tina’s old doctor back and fix up an appointment to see him? Shall we say tomorrow afternoon?’
Maddie nodded. ‘Will do.’
While Maddie made her phone call, Hunter dealt with his emails. He had dozens, many of them in-force spam — courses available or policing announcements. One from his contact at the probation service, regarding his request for information about Dylan Wolfe, caught his eye and he opened it. It ran to a good few paragraphs, the opening an apology for not getting back to him promptly, explaining he had just returned from a holiday in Santorini with his partner, and initially Hunter relaxed into the personal tone of the note, but then the next few paragraphs became business-like and made him sit up. He perused them again, making sure he had read the content correctly, and upon finishing he sat bolt upright, stating loudly, ‘Bloody hell, he’s out!’
‘Who’s out?’ Maddie responded, darting her gaze across the desks.
‘Dylan Wolfe. I’ve just had an email back from Probation. Dylan was released on licence five weeks ago to a bail hostel in Sheffield, and guess what?’
‘I’m guessing you’re going to say he’s done a runner.’
‘You bet. I need to message Grace and speak with her. I’ve got a feeling about him not only being involved in the Bannisters’ disappearance but Rasa Katiliene’s as well. I think he could be behind that package I’ve been sent.’
In the 18th century George and Dragon pub in Wentworth village — Barnwell MIT’s usual venue for social gatherings and after-work drinks — Hunter and Grace slipped off their coats and seated themselves at a table in the snug with a round of drinks.
‘Well, this is like old times,’ Grace said, raising her glass of chardonnay.
Hunter gazed across the table, watching her taking a sip of wine. She was wearing a pink blouse and blue slacks, and her dark hair was braided the way she used to wear it when she started the job back in 1991. The date triggered a vision of him and her in uniform out on patrol, dealing with their first major job together. They had come across a break-in at an engineering firm and while checking out the scene had discovered the intruder still on the premises. He had tried to escape and they had ended up in a fight. Grace had been on the receiving end of a punch Hunter had ducked away from, and then he’d hit her with a blow that had been intended for the burglar. They had got their man, but she had ended up with a black eye and bandaged wrist, something she still reminded him of from time to time during lighter moments. Since then, they had both married and had children — she two girls, Robyn and Jade — and after two career breaks to look after them during their early years had returned to work in CID. He had been in Vice, Drug Squad and CID and gained promotion. Two years ago, Grace had joined him in MIT and ever since they had been partners. Bloody good partners. Together, they had put away some pretty nasty monsters in those two years. But all that had changed following the arrival of the new DCI. Hunter dragged his thoughts back and replied, ‘It was until St. John-Stevens came along.’
‘Now, now, don’t be bitter, Hunter,’ chided Grace. ‘We all know what a remarkable and caring leader he is.’
Her comment sparked a snigger.
‘So, you think he’s the one who leaked to the press?’ Grace continued, rolling the stem of her wine glass between finger and thumb.
‘It’s got to be him. I can’t think of anyone else who would want to cause me this much grief. He’s had it in for me from day one, because Dawn had the temerity to challenge his decision over the shooting of that informant I had gone to meet that nigh
t with Barry. He said I was to blame, but Dawn argued I wasn’t and had me reinstated.’
‘But that’s no reason to go to these lengths. Are you sure you’re not being paranoid? Couldn’t it have been Guernsey Police who gave the story?’
‘There’s been nothing in the Guernsey press for weeks. And when the original story was released, there was no mention of a British detective involved, or my family. The DI in charge of the investigation told me they would hold back on that as long as they could and that more than likely it would only come out at the inquest.’
Grace pursed her lips. ‘Well, if it is him, it’s a pretty vicious way of getting back at you.’
‘What did he say the other day, when he thought I was going behind his back over the Bannister case? He said he’d have my badge.’
‘But you are going behind his back over the Bannister case. There’s no thought about it.’
‘That’s beside the point.’ Hunter broke into a grin and she tittered.
‘Anyway, enough of St. John-Stevens, you said you needed to see me over Rasa Katiliene,’ said Grace. ‘Is this following on from our conversation the other day about the note and doll you received before we were rudely interrupted by St. John-Stevens?’
Hunter gave a quick nod. ‘I think I know who sent me the note and doll, and if I’m right he would be more than capable of killing Rasa.’
‘Wow, who is it?’ asked Grace.
‘I’m guessing you haven’t got anywhere with the investigation?’
‘The only person we’ve got in the frame is the sex offender Luke Riley, who admitted going to The Comfort Inn with her and paying her for sex. And he’s only in the frame because he’s the last known person to have seen her and St. John-Stevens hasn’t got anyone else to look at.’
‘What about the Lithuanian couple who trafficked her here? Wasn’t she badly assaulted by the man, and didn’t they flee the day after the TV broadcast about her disappearance?’
Unsolved Page 14