by John Stewart
Mike saw her expression turn from relaxed to horrified in seconds. “What is it?”
Rebecca scanned the picture with her eyes and one by one, she recognised all the victims from Simon’s cases posing with him in a group. She stood up in a panic, holding her hand to her mouth. Mike got up and stood beside her.
“Becca, what’s the matter?” he said holding her shoulder.
She turned the phone and showed him the picture on the screen.
“Jesus Christ! That’s Meadowcroft with the victims. Where did you get this?”
“I don’t know, it was in my gallery. There’s another girl there Mike! You don’t think he killed them, do you?”
“Let’s not jump to any conclusions, he’s no killer,” he said as he took the phone and checked the picture’s metadata.
“This was taken the day you were attacked.”
“But, I don’t remember it.”
“You must have seen it when Simon left the apartment and took a snap.” Mike took a deep breath. “He’s been lying to us all along. Send that on to my phone,” he said, grabbing his coat.
“Where are you going? It’s getting late.”
“I’m going to see what the fuck this is all about. This time he has to tell me the truth or I’m going straight to the cops with that photo,” he said, slamming the door as he left.
Rebecca sat back down at the table and forwarded the picture to Mike, her hands trembling at the potential ramifications of what it could mean.
***
Mike drove across the city as fast as he could and arrived at Simon’s apartment block just in time to see him get into a taxi and pull away. He decided to follow and see where he was going. The cab zigged and zagged through a maze of side streets before eventually coming to a halt outside a large redbrick building on Ralstone Street. Mike had to pass the taxi and pull in a few spaces up, where he watched Simon exit the cab carrying a black shoulder bag. Mike had to climb into the back seat to get a better view as Simon proceeded to walk up a small set of steps leading to a large black door. He rang the buzzer and waited for a few moments, before taking out a set of keys, opening the door and walking inside.
“What the hell is he up to?” Mike said aloud, squatting in the back of his car. He kept watch for a few minutes until he noticed a traffic warden approaching in the distance. Looking around, he saw a nearby sign for pay and display parking. He jumped out and pretended he was placing something in the boot as the warden neared.
“Hi, can you point me to the nearest ticket dispenser, please?” Mike asked with a smile.
The warden gave him a suspicious glare.
“This is a residential street sir, you need to register your vehicle to park here.”
“Oh, I know, but I’ve just moved in and need to get that sorted.
“Very well, give me your registration number and address and I’ll write you up a twenty-four hour pass, but you’ll need to sort it as soon as possible.”
Mike did his best not to panic as he quickly looked at the building numbers while the warden gave him the patronising advice. “Of course.” He gave the car registration and picked a house number from the air, hoping it would be okay.
“117?” the warden said, looking behind him. “That’s a bit of a walk. You’re the wrong end of the street.”
“I know, but this was the only free space I could find, too many cars in the city these days,” Mike said with a nervous laugh.
“Keeps me in a job so I won’t complain,” the warden said, handing Mike a piece of paper. “Take care now and don’t forget to get that registration sorted.”
“Will do, thanks.”
Mike got back into the back seat of the car and let out a sigh of mild relief as the warden moved on up the street. He waited and waited, but there was no sign of Simon. Noticing it was gone midnight, he rang Rebecca, who was sitting anxiously on the couch, waiting for him to return.
“Mike, where are you?”
“Hey, I’m just sitting in the car waiting to see when this lad is gonna show himself.” Looking in the rearview mirror as he spoke.
“What? Why didn’t you call in?”
“He’s not at home. Listen, don’t worry. I’m just gonna wait and see what he’s up to. Don’t be waiting up for me, this could take all night.”
“Where are you?” she asked again.
“I’m outside a house on Ralstone Street. Don’t worry, I’ll fill you in as soon as I get back.”
“Okay, but don’t do anything stupid Mike, please!”
“Me, stupid? Hardly,” he said, attempting to lighten the tone. “I’ll speak to you when I get back, Okay?”
“Alright, talk to you then,” she said as she hung up.
Noticing the windows were beginning to steam up, Mike leaned into the front, placed the keys in the ignition and turned up the heater to clear the condensation. He then sat back and eyed the black door for movement. As he sat there, he deliberated the possibility of Simon having some part in the killings, but he couldn’t believe the former detective was capable of such horrors and convinced himself there had to be another explanation for his actions. Eventually his thoughts gave way to fatigue and without realising it, he fell fast asleep in the back seat of the car.
Chapter 29
The distant chime of church bells served as Mike’s alarm clock and he woke from yet another nightmare with a jolt, banging his forehead on the side window in the process. Taking a minute to clear his mind, he realised where he was and that he had fallen asleep with the car engine running. Counting his blessing that the engine hadn’t overheated and caught fire, he turned off the engine and pulled out his phone to check the time. When he saw the time was 9am, he hit the back of the driver seat in frustration at his poor stakeout skills.
With no way of knowing if Simon had left the building during the night, he decided to call him. The phone rang out and went to voicemail, so he got into the driver seat and waited another five minutes, impatiently tapping on the steering wheel. Then he remembered the small cycle helmet camera he had in the glove box, another online gadget purchase that Rebecca had labeled a waste of money. He took the camera out, returned to the back seat and positioned it in the rear window, which gave him a clear view of the house. The camera came with a downloadable app that enabled him to use his phone as a video monitor via the camera’s inbuilt WIFI. This gave him the freedom to leave the car and find a nearby café where he could use the facilities and get some breakfast.
He checked online for the nearest coffee shop and as luck would have it, there was one within the half mile transmission radius of the WIFI. He left the car and headed off around the corner, all the while watching his phone for movement at the house. When he got to the coffee shop, he went straight to the bathroom to wash up. Feeling a bit more like himself, he took a seat and ordered a large takeaway cappuccino and croissant, keeping one eye on the phone as he went. He was half way through his cappuccino when he saw the door open on the phone’s display. “Gotcha!” he said as he watched Simon walk out wearing a baseball cap and heavy jacket.
He binned the drink and ran back towards the car as fast as he could. By the time he got there, Simon was at the end of the street, heading south towards the city centre. Mike kept his distance and called Rebecca.
“Hi, sorry I didn’t get home last night. Listen, I can’t really talk, he’s just left the house and I’m gonna follow him to see where he’s going.”
Rebecca was livid. “What the hell are you doing Mike? You need to hand the picture into the police and walk away from this. I’ve been up all night worried sick!”
“I will, I promise, I just need to see what he’s doing. I’ll call you back soon.”
Rebecca threw the phone down in anger at being dismissed so quickly.
Knowing he was in for an earful when he got home, Mike followed Simon on down the road and saw a sign for the Chelsea Physic Garden.
“What the hell is he doing here?” he thought as he watched Si
mon walk around to the main entrance.
He waited a couple of minutes before following him inside, careful not to be seen. Inside, Mike was surprised by the lavish array of flowers and plants on display, he had no great love for gardening, but couldn’t help be impressed by the garden’s beauty. It didn’t take long to spot Simon. He had taken a seat near the large statue in the centre of the garden and appeared to be reading a broadsheet newspaper. All Mike could do was find a vantage point out of Simon’s line of sight and wait.
Upon entering the garden a minute earlier, Simon stopped at the kiosk and bought a copy of the Financial Times along with a large coffee. He scanned the open area around the Sir Hans Sloane statue and took a seat opposite to where he had seen the hooded killer. He waited patiently, checking the time periodically and then almost like clockwork, he saw the side of a black hoodie moving through the crowd and sitting on the bench he was facing. The crowd was thick and he was unable to get a clear view. Tilting his head from behind the newspaper, he tried to get a better angle, but to no avail. The crowd seemed to swell as if there was some event happening.
Mike also noticed the crowd forming from where he was sitting. He looked around wondering what was happening, but held his position in case Simon spotted him. Simon was beginning to panic, fearing he could lose his chance to finally put a face to his torment. He stood up from the bench and as he did, everybody in the garden froze. He nearly fell back onto the bench with the shock of what he was witnessing.
Every single person, from gardeners to tour guides seemed to be glued to the spot. Mike saw the people freeze and quickly realised it was just a November 5th flash mob. They were a popular activity around the city and he had seen plenty of them since moving to London. Simon, on the other hand, appeared to be dumbfounded by it and sat back on the bench in astonishment. The silence was what struck him, complete silence, as if the whole world had pressed pause. Simon was no fool and didn’t think the crowd had actually froze, but he had never witnessed a flash mob firsthand before and the site had caught him off guard. Peering through the crowd, he caught a glimpse of the black hood opposite and decided to make his move. He shuffled through the statuesque flash mob participants and took a seat beside his target. Mike watched as Simon stood, but lost sight of him as he traversed the crowd.
“I know who you are. Take off the hood, stand up and come with me,” Simon said with a firm voice.
“How did you find me?” A woman’s voice replied as she lowered the hood and faced him.
Simon’s eyes widened as her face registered in his memory. “Stand up and walk towards the rear exit.”
“Or what?” she replied defiantly.
“Or, I handcuff you to this bench and call the cavalry.”
“I think if you wanted to bring me in, you’d have already called them.” He grabbed the inside of her arm.
“Just do it. Now!”
She calmly placed the newspaper she was holding on the bench and did as Simon instructed. Seconds later, the crowd kicked back into life, conversations restarted and the hum of the garden returned as if nothing had happened. Mike navigated through the dispersing crowd and arrived at the now empty bench. Simon was nowhere to be seen.
Chapter 30
Assisted by the momentum created by the exiting crowd, Simon ushered his new acquaintance out the narrow passage leading onto Royal Hospital Road. She didn’t say a word as he broke away from the jovial flash mob who were too busy congratulating each other on a successful morning to notice the pair. Directing her left onto Tite Street, he pressed the 9mm handgun in his jacket pocket, firmly against her back which prompted her to break her silence.
“What’s that? A gun? Really?” she said with a condescending snigger. “So what? You’re gonna shoot me on the street in broad daylight? Wouldn’t that just be the perfect way to end our relationship?”
“Shut your mouth and take the next right up ahead,” Simon said through gritted teeth.
When they got to Christchurch Street, they took the next left back to the Ralstone Street building. Simon looked up and down the quiet road before leading her up the stairs and opening the front door. The entrance led to a medium sized lobby with residential postal boxes to the right and a large staircase on the left.
“Upstairs!” Simon ordered like he was escorting a prisoner to a cell.
The apartment was on the fourth floor, had front and back facing rooms and access to the roof. All that, coupled with the internal panic room made it an ideal location should anyone attempt an attack on a witness.
When they arrived at the top floor, Simon marched his prisoner down the corridor until he reached the apartment door. The door had a security keypad along with the standard key lock.
“Turn around,” he demanded as he input the key code and opened the door. “Inside!” he continued, helping her in with a shove and closing the door behind him. Inside she saw an empty chair with restraints attached to the legs and armrests. As she turned around to face him, Simon removed the gun from his jacket and pointed it at her head. “Sit down and strap yourself in.”
She hesitated and looked around the room. Simon pressed the barrel of the gun into her forehead and repeated the instruction. “Sit down and strap yourself in. I won’t ask again.”
She exhaled heavily and acquiesced, but as she strapped herself into the chair feet first, she noticed a slight shake in Simon’s hand. She looked up and stared straight into his eyes.
“You need a drink Officer Meadowcroft. How about some Tequila Rose?”
Simon’s eyes narrowed at the phrase as his memory provided an echo in his mind. Momentarily distracted, he refocused and glared at the only other remaining living person from their mystery group photo. “I told you to shut your mouth. I’ll tell you when you can speak.”
Once she got her left hand secured, Simon tied off her right. He then pulled another chair over to face her and sat down.
“So, I was supposed to be your last victim was I? Your so called, last resolution.”
She smiled and tilted her head back before returning his gaze. “No Simon,” she replied bluntly. “You are my last resolution.”
***
Mike had searched the entire four acre garden with no sign of Simon and had lost the will to continue. He left by the rear exit and took out his phone to double check the directions back to his car. He wasn’t the best navigator in the world and he had been concentrating so much on where Simon was going earlier, he hadn’t thought to take note of how to get back.
Once he confirmed the route, he closed out the map and saw that the cycle helmet camera application was still running in the background. He realised that if Simon had returned to the house, the camera would have recorded it from the back window of the car. He hurried back, passing the house on the way and got into the back seat of his car. Picking up the camera, he stopped the recording to view the playback, but as he did, it dawned on him that he couldn’t watch it back on the camera as it didn’t have a screen attached. He paused for a minute and then looked at his phone.
“Of course!” he said with a satisfied grin. He proceeded to open the back of the camera, remove the micro SD card and swap it out with the one in his phone. It took a few moments for the phone to recognise the memory card, but once it did, he opened the media player and was able to view the footage. With an even broader smile, he scrubbed through the video file until he saw Simon returning to the house with what looked to be a dark haired woman.
“What the hell is this guy playing at?” Mike said aloud as he watched Simon suspiciously look around him before entering the building. He had seen enough and decided to finally take Rebecca’s advice and call the police. Replacing the phone’s memory card, he searched online for the phone number of New Scotland Yard and asked to speak to someone regarding former Detective Simon Meadowcroft. The woman on reception took his details and asked him to hold while she made inquiries.
Detective Sergeant Ethan Sloane was preparing a disgruntled prosecuti
on witness for an upcoming court hearing when the call came through to his desk. He excused himself and lifted the receiver with a sigh.
“D.S. Sloane.”
“Detective, I have a Mr. Mike Wesley on the line, wishing to speak to someone regarding Simon Meadowcroft. I thought you might want to take it.”
“Patch it through to interrogation room four and I’ll be with him shortly,” Sloane said, looking around the office with a concerned expression. He turned to the witness sitting opposite. “Sorry, I have to take this. I’ll have some of the officers bring you home and we can finish before the hearing tomorrow morning.”
“What about the protection I was promised? You haven’t as much as sent a car around by my house. I might have to rethink my statement.”
Sloane gritted his teeth, he knew he could not afford to sanction a protective detail, especially on the 5th of November, but with the Crown Prosecutor’s case relying on her evidence, he had to do something. “Okay, would you feel better staying in a safe house? We can set you up for the night and check in periodically.”
The nonplused looking witness grabbed her bag and stood up. “Okay, but you better cover my time off work.”
“That’s all being taken care of. You won’t be out of pocket,” he said, forcing a smile.
He turned to face a trio of junior officers chatting by the drinks machine. “Evans, Grant! You two take Mrs. Christie over to Ralstone Street. I’ve gotta take a call.”
On the other end of the line, Mike was waiting patiently when the formal woman from reception returned.
“My apologies for the delay Mr. Wesley, one of our detectives will be with you shortly.”
“Okay thanks,” Mike replied, remembering the many times he had placed members of the public on hold while one of his superiors finished lunch. Eventually, he heard a different voice.