by L M Krier
'Go on, Oliver, I'm listening,' Ted said encouragingly.
'She said she would do something to me, something dirty, if I gave her some money,' Oliver said hesitantly. 'I didn't want to get into any trouble, so I said no. They call her Mads or Mags, something like that.'
Ted did a silent air punch then said into the phone, 'Oliver, you have been extremely helpful and I am very grateful to you.'
'You were very kind to me,' Burdon said, 'I like you.'
'Tomorrow, I'm going to send one of my men round with some chocolate for you,' Ted promised. 'It's white chocolate you like, isn't it? I'm going to send you a load of bars of white chocolate, with my thanks.'
He rang off and turned to his team members who were waiting on his update.
'Got a lead,' he said. 'Two of you get round to the drop-in soup kitchen place near the hospital. Ask about a Mads or a Mags. Sounds like she may be in the habit of offering a blow job in exchange for money, presumably to buy drugs. It seems she may be our victim number two.'
Chapter Seventeen
Sal and Virgil hadn't had much luck at the soup kitchen. Everyone they spoke to knew the girl, but only as Mags or Mads. They knew she was living rough, most knew, or at least suspected, how she got her money, but nobody knew much about her background. One of the volunteers said her accent was more Black Country or Potteries than Stockport, but other than that, nobody really knew anything.
There had been the usual round of time-wasting phone calls, people reporting neighbours who 'looked weird'. Inevitably, they'd already had one confession, one of their regular confessors, a man they called Honest John who had so far confessed to every high-profile crime for miles around. He got his nickname because he punctuated every sentence he uttered with 'honest, it was me.'
They knew him well by now and knew the reality. The man was a sad, attention-seeking fantasist who lived in a filthy one-bedroom flat in a high-rise which he was unable ever to leave because of his clinical obesity.
Ted stood the team down as it was late, everyone was tired and they had at least had the glimmer of a lead with which to start fresh the next day. He went back to his office to get his jacket and decided to give his DS a quick call to bring him up to speed.
He was again surprised when the DS's wife answered the phone. 'DI Darling, Mrs Hallam, sorry to trouble you. I hope things went well with your mother this evening. I just need a quick word with Mike, if I may,' he said.
Once again the response was decidedly curt. Whatever her good points, graduation from charm school was certainly not one of them, Ted thought to himself.
'Hello, sir, sorry, I was just helping the mother-in-law,' Hallam's voice was apologetic when he came on the line.
'Just wanted to bring you up to speed with the night's results, so you know where to start if you're in before me in the morning,' Ted told him. 'We've got a partial ID on the second victim, homeless lass known as Mads or Mags, possibly a Black Country connection but no positive ID yet.'
Ted was just getting ready to leave when there was a timid knock on his door, so hesitant that he barely heard it. Through the glass panel he could see the young TDC standing outside, looking awkward.
He sighed and put his jacket back down. 'Come in, Steve,' he said, in as encouraging a tone as he could manage, knowing how nervous the young man always appeared to be.
'Sir,' Steve started, looking for all the world like a schoolboy in the headmaster's study. 'I did some digging again on missing persons. Because this latest victim is small, only five foot two, it narrowed it down a bit. I've got a possible match, a runaway, missing from Stoke-on-Trent for four years.'
He held out a computer print-out which Ted took as he leaned against his desk. 'Brilliant work, Steve, spot on. I'll eat my cats if this is not our Annabel,' then seeing the shocked look on Steve's face he added hastily, 'Joke, Steve, figure of speech.
'I'll send someone down to her last-known address tomorrow, see if we can dot the i's and cross the t's but I would say it's a racing certainty. Well done, Steve.'
The TDC scuttled out of the office, looking pleased with himself. Ted put his jacket back on and hesitated with his phone in his hand. He really wanted to fill the DS in with this further development, as he wanted to send him down to Stoke the following day, but he didn't want to disturb him if he was sorting out his mother-in-law. Ted knew from experience how difficult things could be, helping someone who had only recently lost their mobility and independence. Hallam was always in early, he could brief him then.
Only the next morning the DS was not in early, in fact he was not even on time, which did not please Ted. There was no sign of him, and no word from him. When Ted tried his mobile, it went straight to answering mode.
The message Ted left was abrupt. He wanted to move the enquiry on and he had planned to send the DS and Tina to Stoke-on-Trent for a positive ID as they were a good team for the job. He wanted to give Hallam the benefit of the doubt and wait for his explanation but time was getting on.
It was nearly lunchtime before the DS put in an appearance. He came slowly up the stairs and it was clear that every movement he made was causing him a lot of pain. When Ted saw him walk in, he called him over to his office, pulled out a chair for him and put the kettle on.
Hallam looked not just in pain but also extremely uncomfortable and on edge. 'Sir, I'm so sorry, I've been in A&E all morning. The lad left his baseball on the stairs, I didn't see it and I went full length from top to bottom. I've got four cracked ribs and quite a lot of bruising.'
'Sorry to hear that Mike,' Ted said. 'Would have helped if you'd phoned in to let me know.'
'I know, sir, and I'm sorry,' Hallam said, 'but my mobile was underneath me when I fell and it's not working. I did try to get someone to phone in for me from the hospital, but it seems like no one did.'
'All right, but make sure someone does let us know next time, please, if you're unlucky enough for there to be a next time,' Ted said. 'I need you to go to Stoke-on-Trent, let's see if we can get a definite ID on this girl. Take Tina with you. Have you got your car?'
'Er, I'm not allowed to drive, sir,' the DS said apologetically. 'They've put me on some hefty painkillers and they advise you not to drive while taking them.'
'Get Tina to drive her car then, but get started as soon as you can,' Ted told him.
The DS looked extremely awkward and said, 'Sorry, sir, but can I send someone else? It's just I'm not sure I'm up to sitting in a car, even for a shortish journey. Especially not a Mini.'
Ted gave him a long look. He had the feeling there was something going on that he didn't know about and he didn't like that. 'Is there some problem between you and Tina?' he asked directly.
'No, sir, no, nothing like that,' the DS laughed off his suggestion. 'I'll be fine driving a desk for a day or two but honestly, it is very painful getting in and out of a car, and going anywhere might be a problem today.'
Ted still held his gaze. He was not convinced but he had more things to worry about than a possible office dalliance or a disagreement between colleagues. 'Send Sal then,' he said finally, 'he's very good with people, very courteous.
'Once we get a positive ID, we need to start mapping out any links, any similarities at all between these two victims, never mind how unlikely they seem. I have a horrible feeling this is a random killer, the victims are not particularly targeted, and you know how difficult those cases are to solve. But let's not overlook anything obvious in the meantime. Get someone out round any of Vicki Carr's haunts with pictures of this Mags, just in case there's any link.'
'Oh, before I forget, sir,' the DS had some papers in his hand and put them on the desk in front of the DI. 'The report on the scalpel found in Oliver Burdon's locker. Tests show that the only flesh it had contact with recently was definitely chicken, not human.'
Ted scanned through the report, then looked back at his sergeant. 'So, Mike, let me get this clear,' Ted said. 'You went ahead and ordered forensic tests on this scalpel aft
er I'd released Burdon and said he was no longer a suspect?'
Hallam held his gaze levelly. 'Yes sir, I did.'
'In other words, if I'd made a complete tit of myself and let the real killer walk free, you had my arse covered by ordering the tests?' Ted asked ironically.
'That's right, sir,' Hallam replied. 'Just covering all bases.'
'Good work, Mike, thank you,' Ted smiled. 'Good to know you've got my back.'
Chapter Eighteen
'Poor old Sarge, in the wars again,' Sal said, as he and Tina set off for Stoke-on-Trent. He was more than happy to let her drive. She was an excellent driver and he liked the sporty little car. 'Do you think he drinks?'
Tina shrugged. 'I wouldn't have thought so, but who can tell?' she replied. 'The number of officers who do and get away with it for years is staggering.'
Thanks to Steve's work, they now had a possible name for Annabel, victim number two - Margaret Fielding, known as Maggie - and an address on the outskirts of Stoke-on-Trent as her last known place of residence. According to the information they had, she'd run away from home at the age of fifteen after some trouble involving the current live-in boyfriend of her mother. An all too familiar story.
The address proved to be a squalid-looking house on an estate. There was graffiti on every available surface around, mostly gang symbols, and a burnt-out car in the road a few yards away. Tina was a bit worried about the Cooper, so she parked as close as she could, where she could keep an eye on her beloved motor.
It took repeated loud knocks on the door before a woman came to open it. Both officers had their warrant cards in their hands. By silent mutual agreement, Tina did the talking.
'Mrs Fielding?' she asked. 'DCs Bailey and Ahmed. Can we come in, please?'
The woman had a partly-smoked cigarette clamped between wrinkled lips. She looked three sheets to the wind, her watery blue eyes having difficulty focusing on them. She and her clothes were equally dirty and there was a strong aroma of stale sweat and urine about her. She scanned Tina's face briefly then her gaze landed on Sal and stayed there.
'What do you want?' she asked suspiciously.
Tina would have thought it pretty obvious what an unannounced visit from two police officers was likely to mean to the parent of a reported runaway. But it seemed that the woman was too far gone to be thinking logically.
'It would be easier to talk inside, Mrs Fielding,' she said. 'Can we come in, please?'
Without saying anything, the woman turned and led the way down a filthy hallway, cluttered with old newspapers and bags of rubbish, to an equally squalid kitchen at the back of the house, with dirty crockery piled high in the sink and all around. She broke wind loudly and repeatedly as she walked.
There was nowhere to sit and the woman didn't invite them to. Instead she said, 'Have you found her then, the little tart?'
If Tina was taken aback, she was too professional to show it. 'We are here about your missing daughter, Margaret, yes, Mrs Fielding.'
'Missing?' the woman spat. 'She ran off when I caught her in my bed with my Henry, giving him a blow job. I only reported her because she ran off with all my housekeeping money. Have you found her, then?'
'Mrs Fielding, I have to tell you that we have found the body of a young woman and we have reason to believe that it might be your daughter,' Tina said. 'Do you have any photographs of Margaret, any others, besides the one you supplied to the police at the time of her disappearance?'
'Burnt them all,' the woman spat. 'Couldn't stand to look at the little bitch's face again, after what she did.'
Tina and Sal exchanged glances. Of all the reactions they'd encountered from grieving relatives, this was a new one on both of them.
'Mrs Fielding, we are going to need you to come to Stockport to view the body and tell us if it is your missing daughter,' Tina said. 'Do you have anyone who can drive you there?'
Sal hid a smile behind his hand. He had already realised that there was no way Tina was even going to consider putting this sad, stinking woman in her beautifully kept car.
'I've got no one,' the woman said, and just for a moment, the mask slipped and the two officers could see beyond to the human tragedy behind it. 'Henry fucked off just afterwards. He probably went after the little bitch with his dick in his hand, begging for more.'
'What I'm going to do then, Mrs Fielding, is phone the local station and arrange for a police car to take you up there,' Tina told her. 'What I would suggest is sometime tomorrow, to suit you. That would give you time to …' Tina hesitated for a moment, trying to think of a way to put it delicately. '… to prepare yourself. What sort of time would be convenient for you?'
The bleary eyes gave her a mocking look and the woman said, 'I'll have to check my diary, see what other social engagements I have. But don't make it in the morning. I don't get up in the mornings. It's too depressing.'
'All right, Mrs Fielding, I'll arrange it for the afternoon. May I take a phone number, so I can confirm the time with you?' Tina asked.
'No point, phone's been cut off long since,' the woman said with a shrug. 'Just tell the bizzies to knock on when they like. I'm not going anywhere.'
Once outside, the two officers gratefully gulped air. Even the polluted atmosphere of the neighbourhood tasted sweet and fresh after the inside of the house.
'How the hell do people end up like that?' Tina asked Sal, as they got into the Mini. Tina had first done an anxious check all round to make sure it still had all its wheels and there was no graffiti or any blade marks.
'It's the demon drink,' Sal, a non-drinker, said in reply. 'I wish people would wake up to the damage it does. It's just as bad as most of the drug-related stuff we deal with, and so much easier to get hold of.'
'Boss isn't going to be pleased we're going back without a positive ID but I don't see what else we could do in the circumstances,' Tina said. 'He's taking this one hard and personally.'
'He's always worried the next one is going to be Rosalie, I suppose,' Sal said. 'Can't imagine how the Big Boss gets through the day. I suppose, in a sense, there must be some sort of relief when parents of runaways know the worst is true. At least they can get on and heal in some way.'
'I just hope Sarge pulls his finger out a bit,' Tina said. 'What we really don't need on top of everything is him falling down on the job,' and they both chuckled at the weak joke.
Ted wasn't ecstatic at their news when they got back. His team were used to seeing him relaxed, confident and in charge, but this case was already starting to get to him and he was desperate for some positive progress. But as ever, he made sure the team got positive feedback from him. He didn't want them getting as discouraged as he was.
'Right, good, you did the right thing. Hopefully it's only a delay of a day before we get the positive ID,' he said. 'So far she's still the most likely match of any that Steve has come up with.
'So, let's start out on the assumption it is her. From what we know about her, start asking around on known pick-up streets, see if any of the regulars know her. Find out if she has a pimp and who it is. Let's start checking CCTV from likely venues, too. If she was picked up in a car, we may get something.
'Mike, sort out teams on this and get them started. Then go home. You look dreadful,' Ted told his DS. 'Have some more strong painkillers, have a day off if you need one, but get yourself as fit as you can. I need every member of this team on top of their game. I'm having this bastard off the street and soon. Two young women dead is two too many.'
Chapter Nineteen
If Ted was annoyed at the delay in formal identification of the second victim, he was incandescent with rage when he saw what the local papers had done following the press conference.
The pocket billiard-playing local reporter had the by-line for the story in the local weekly which started on the front page and continued over a double-page spread inside. Ted had to grudgingly concede that the journalist had done his homework and a lot of historical research had gone into his piece
.
Unfortunately a lot of it was hysterical nonsense, which Ted could really have done without, notably the label of the 'Stockport Slasher' for their as yet unidentified killer. If the journalist crossed Ted's path in the near future, he was in grave danger of finding himself with nothing left with which to play pocket billiards, because of the mood Ted was in.
He'd clearly done a lot of digging for facts for the inevitable references to the Whitechapel killings of Jack the Ripper and the twentieth century murders of the Yorkshire Ripper. He'd also dredged up a lot of stuff on Stockport murders of the sixties, including one where a woman's body had been dumped in the car park of a police station.
He hadn't gone as far as to use the term 'serial killer', which would have been inaccurate with just two deaths so far. Had he done so, Ted would have wanted to create a new offence of breathing in and out in a public place, just so he could have had him arrested for it.
The journalist had also unfortunately overheard Vicki Carr's father's opening words to Ted and quoted them in full, whilst conveniently omitting what Ted had promised him in reply.
It was exactly the sort of scaremongering piece he had wanted to avoid at all costs. Ted was struggling to see how it would help the enquiry in the way it was intended to. Especially as it looked more than likely that they actually had a positive ID on the second victim on their own initiative, or rather on young Steve's, with Oliver Burdon's assistance, without the public's help.
He had arranged that he and Tina would go to the mortuary when Mrs Fielding arrived from Stoke-on-Trent for the identification. From what Tina had told him, it didn't sound as if she was going to be a grief-stricken parent, but it was a courtesy he would extend to any relative in the same circumstances, so he wanted to do it.