by L M Krier
'Give me a bit of time and I'll see what I can do to enhance the image, see if that helps at all,' Océane put in.
'I agree with Jezza. At this stage, let's just concentrate on what we can tell for sure, even if it's not a lot,' Ted told them.
'Small and slight, and we can't tell skin colour,' Sal voiced what they were all thinking. 'It doesn't really get us very far, boss.'
'Anonymous baggy clothes,' Megan continued. 'They hide the figure effectively, and there's no logo visible on the hoody.'
'So if this is a female, boss, is there a link between the two cases? Is that what you're thinking?'
Ted shook his head.
'Far too early to be jumping to conclusions like that, Mike. We're not taking this case on, unless we do find a definite link. It'll stay with South Manchester and I'll oversee it. I just wanted your input, to see if anyone could come up with some suggestions, and you have.
'So, now back to our own case. Tyler Bradbury. What's new there? Goths, Jezza?'
'Goths, boss. I spent a pleasant couple of hours with some of Stockport's finest. And I have to say, they were an intelligent lot, artistic in the main. I don't know if they're representative or not. They had heard about the case, of course, and seemed genuinely shocked and disgusted by it. They didn't know of anyone amongst the local Goths who could fit the profile of someone wanting to kill a little lad, and they're a close-knit bunch. They all know everyone. When you stand out as much as they do, it's easier to flock together.
'They were also dismissive of purple nail polish. For them, it's black or nothing. They don't know of any self-respecting local Goth who would wear purple; they say it's more of an Emo thing.'
Seeing blank looks from some of the others, she explained, 'Emos are a bit like a punk wing of the Goth culture, sometimes with brightly-coloured punk hairstyles. It's also worth mentioning that the whole Goth style thing leans towards the feminine and a lot of Goth males wear eyeliner, for example.
'We all know, too, that Goths are sometimes victims of hate crime themselves. There was that murder of a Goth teenage girl in Lancashire a few years ago. That's why they're a pretty tight-knit community. Anyway, I gave them all my number and they'll contact me if they get wind of anything.'
'Do they know you're a police officer?' Ted asked, out of curiosity.
'Oh yes, I wanted to be level with them, to get them to trust me. But they're cool with that. They were a nice bunch. Genuine, I think. If they hear of anything, they'll get in touch, as much to protect their own image as anything else.'
'What else? What do the neighbours say about the mother?'
'I've been talking to other young mums in the same road, boss,' Megan began. 'They all said pretty much the same thing. She hadn't been there long; they didn't see a lot of her, just going out to the shops with Tyler, that sort of thing. But working from home, on her own, with a little boy, I doubt she had time to socialise much. They'd have got to know her a bit better when he started school, no doubt.
'They did say they would see her taking him into the park for a bit of a run about whenever the weather was right. He always had his flying Batman with him. Oh, and none of them had ever babysat for her. As far as they knew, the ones I talked to, she didn't go out.'
'What about people using the park? Have we covered that yet?'
'It's on our To Do list for today, boss,' Jo told him. 'I've been liaising with the CSOs. They've not heard of anyone hanging round the park behaving suspiciously, and they're usually the first to hear anything like that. If the weather forecast is accurate and it stays fine, we'll try the park today. No point in going if it's siling down, there'll not be enough people there to ask.'
Ted nodded his satisfaction. The Police Community Support Officers had good contacts in their areas. They'd have heard if there had been anyone in the park recently who stood out for any reason.
'Good, we're on the right lines, just keep on with it, until we get the break we need. Oh, and Jo, have a word with Inspector Turner to see if Batman has turned up yet. I can't help thinking we might learn something from that missing toy.
'Mike, you and I need to whiz up to South Manchester again just to see how things are going there, and to feed back Jezza's suggestion that the suspect may not necessarily be male. Can you get the car while I make a phone call? I need to fix up a meeting with my favourite journalist.'
Ted was early for his meeting with Pocket Billiards after his trip up to South Manchester. He made sure he had a drink ready in each hand – a Gunner for himself and a pint of lager top for the reporter – when he arrived. Ted always tried to avoid shaking his hand, never knowing quite where it had been or what it had been doing before he touched it.
'Thanks for coming, Alastair. Lager top, isn't it?'
'Thanks, Ted, I was ready for this, I'm spitting feathers. I've not eaten yet, either, and I could eat a scabby donkey,' he said hopefully.
Ted sighed to himself. He should have known he wouldn't get away without putting his hand in his pocket. He'd taken the precaution of grabbing a sandwich himself earlier, never relishing the prospect of having to eat in the journalist's company.
'No problem, have what you fancy,' he told him as Dave, the landlord, grinned at him from behind the bar.
Dave was well aware of Ted's real feelings towards the reporter, and had also witnessed his less than charming eating habits himself on too many occasions.
'I'll have a hotpot, Dave, then I can decide which pudding I want after that.'
Ted led them over to a quiet corner table where they sat down with their drinks. The first half of Alastair's disappeared without seemingly touching the sides and he sat back with a loud, satisfied sigh, followed by a belch.
'Right, then, Ted, what have you got for me on the little kiddy? Is it true you're looking for another kid as the killer?'
Much as Ted disliked him, he had to concede that he was a good journalist, with his nose to the ground and plenty of contacts. He was always well up on what was going on. Ted doubted his sources came from within the station, since he was widely avoided, not least because of the way he sponged off people and never stood a round himself.
'It's too early to jump to that conclusion.'
Ted was anxious to avoid any such assumption appearing in the media too soon. It wouldn't help their case, and it might actually delay the enquiry if the public were fixated on the idea of the killer being a child.
'We'll be holding a press conference soon, but I just wanted to let you have what information I can give you first, before anyone else gets it. You've helped me in the past, so I'm trying to keep up my end of the bargain.
'We don't yet have a lot to go on. What we do know so far is that the killer has small feet and hands. They were wearing trainers, a ladies' or child's size 1, European 33. We don't yet know if the little boy was taken from the garden or went off by himself. I'd be really grateful if you could avoid calling it an abduction at this stage. That might cause panic, and it might not be true.'
Ted was speaking quickly, keen to impart all the information he had as fast as he could so he could hopefully get out of there before Pocket Billiards began to eat.
'The other thing you might be able to help me with is Tyler's Batman toy. He had one of those flying ones and we've not yet been able to find it. I've put all the details down for you, with a link to the kind of toy I'm talking about. It would be very useful to trace his toy; it could help us a great deal.'
He put a couple of sheets of paper on the table, then his heart sank as he saw Dave coming across with a steaming hotpot. Dave caught his eye and winked at him, knowing full well Ted would have appreciated a longer delay before the food arrived.
The reporter grabbed his knife and fork, tucked his napkin into his collar and fell on his food like a starving dog. He crammed more into his mouth than he could comfortably close his jaws around but, undeterred, he started talking, spitting out bits of crust as he did so.
'And what about this case y
ou're on up the road? Is it true you're looking for a teenager for that one?'
Ted wasn't surprised he'd already heard about the South Manchester case. He dropped his eyes to his glass, seemingly fascinated by the mixture of ginger beer and lime. Anything to avoid having to watch the reporter chewing with his mouth open.
Alastair swallowed noisily and, to Ted's surprise, began to sing.
'Oh, ye canny shove yer grannie aff a bus
Naw ye canny shove yer grannie aff a bus...'
Ted winced involuntarily at the bad taste of the old Scottish song, in the circumstances.
'Not of interest to you though, is it? A bit off your patch?'
'But I can just see the headlines, Ted,' he said, raising a hand with a still dripping fork in it to draw an imaginary banner in the air. 'Manchester kids on a killing spree. Have the police lost control?'
Ted groaned inwardly, wondering who would be more likely to kill him first, Jim Baker or the Ice Queen, if he didn't do something to prevent such catastrophic press coverage.
'Let me get you another drink, Alastair. Would you like a short, perhaps? And I'll get the dessert menu, see what Dave has on the Specials board today.'
Chapter Seven
Ted hardly dared look at the local news website the following morning. The weekly paper wasn't out for a few days yet but the reporter had promised to get a piece up online soon after his meeting with Ted. He'd update it later, after the press conference which was scheduled for mid-morning. The Ice Queen had insisted that Ted must be present in person as SIO on the case. He hated such occasions, never comfortable in front of cameras and microphones. But in a case like this, he was prepared to do whatever it took.
'Jo, anything new from the park?' Ted asked to start the morning briefing.
'No reports of anyone conspicuous hanging about, boss, but Virgil picked up something interesting.'
He looked across at DC Tibbs to supply the details he'd discovered.
'May be nothing at all, boss, and may not even be related. I got talking to one of the maintenance crew who look after the park. There's been a few strange incidents there lately, he told me. A load of ducks on a pond were poisoned, deliberately, it seems. They found bread with slug pellets in it. And a kitten was hanged from a tree. Like I said, it could be unconnected to our case, but I thought I'd flag it up.'
Ted nodded.
'You did right to. We need to know everything we can about what's been going on in the area. As you said, it's maybe not related but they're both pretty sick things to do.'
'Boss, I could ask Sally if the RSPCA have been involved in anything like that in the area.'
Sally was Rob O'Connell's fiancée, an RSPCA inspector who'd helped them before on another case.
'Good, thank you. What else? What's everyone working on today?'
'Boss, I'm going up to the music college this morning, just doing a bit of digging on the Luke Martin case. I can change it, though, if there's anything specifically you need me on here? But there's one thing in that file that puzzles me, that I picked up on from the case notes.'
'Go on, Jezza, and it's fine to work on that for now. That's still an open case and I'd dearly love to see it wound up.'
'I was puzzled by the notes so I went and checked all the evidence bags to be sure. Luke's violin was smashed at the scene, and it was a valuable one. But the bridge was missing. It wasn't found with the rest of the pieces, it wasn't in his personal effects and as far as I know, it's never been traced. Is there any significance to that, I wonder?
'Anyway, I'm just going up there for a chat with a tutor, doing my tactful best to find out who filled the scholarship place Luke would almost certainly have got. Then I can at least have a look into them and their background.'
'Well spotted, Jezza. Not sure how that was missed or what it signifies. He was just walking home from a lesson – could he have broken it while playing?'
'Not really sure yet, boss, but it's something I'm planning on asking about when I go to the college.'
'Anything else?'
'I was going to go to Ashton this morning, boss. I have a friend in Tameside. I've arranged to meet her for a coffee, see what I can find out about Lewis Chase and his family. If that's all right?'
Megan always sounded so hesitant for anything she did off her own initiative. The legacy of her former boss cast a long and unpleasant shadow.
'Good idea, Megan, thank you. I'd prefer to get some background on him before we go wading in. If he and his family are unconnected in any way, it might be better to let the past lie. No sense in tearing two families apart if it's not absolutely essential to the enquiry.
'Right, I've got this press conference later, and you all know how much I love parading in front of cameras. So get out there, do your stuff and see if you can find anything, any crumb, that we can throw in front of the press pack to show we really are doing our best on this.
'Oh, and shall we all meet up in The Grapes at the end of the day? It's a tough case, it might be nice to unwind at the end of the first week.'
He didn't add that it was as much for his own benefit as theirs. Trev would have left for France by the time he got home and he wasn't looking forward to rattling around an empty house with just the cats for company for ten days.
'I can't this evening boss, sorry. I'm going out and I need to get Tommy sorted and settled before I go.'
'Another hot date with Nat, Jezza?' Virgil asked. He'd introduced the two of them and was pleased they seemed to be getting on well. He laughed as he chanted teasingly, 'Jezza and Nathan sitting in a tree, K.I.S.S.I.N.G.'
'You just remind him that if he doesn't treat you right, I'll break his other leg,' Maurice growled menacingly, always protective of Jezza.
The briefing was breaking up now as they all went about their work so Ted let it go, even when Jezza made a kickboxing feint in Virgil's direction as she went to get her things and head for the door. They were a good team, they worked hard. He wasn't the sort of senior officer who was forever jumping on them. He didn't need to.
He spent some time on his never-ending paperwork, then went over all the notes they had so far on the Tyler Bradbury case. He didn't want to be caught flat-footed at the press conference by a question he couldn't answer.
Kevin Turner was also under orders to attend. The Super wanted to reassure the media and the public that they were taking the murder of a small child seriously and using all their available resources. Kevin and Ted had been summoned to her presence in good time for their own briefing on what would be presented and who was saying what.
'I know we need to disclose the small hands and feet to get any news of potential suspects, but I don't want to dwell too much on the possibility of the killer being a child at this point,' Ted said. 'I think it might cause alarm and it might not be so. It could still be a small adult.'
'I'm still finding it strange having a killing on our patch and no call from Honest John. I never thought we'd miss him. I suppose someone will fill his shoes in time,' Kevin Turner said reflectively. Their former serial confessor had himself become a victim in a recent case.
'And the missing toy?' the Ice Queen asked, topping up their coffees. 'Do you want to go public on that?'
'I think we should. There's always an outside chance that the killer has kept it as a trophy. It wouldn't be the first time that happened. If we can find Batman, he might lead us to the killer.'
'On the other hand, if we make it public, it may possibly alert the killer so they get rid of it. But I agree, on balance, it's worth a shot. The killer may not have it, it could simply be lost. So now, gentlemen, are you ready to face the fray?'
She rose majestically to her feet, her uniform and turnout immaculate as ever. Kevin Turner was also looking his smartest, hair carefully slicked into submission. Trev had supervised Ted's wardrobe for the occasion. The Super insisted he was always suited and booted, when he preferred more casual wear. He'd been careful to do up his top button and pull up his ti
e to cover it. She looked him up and down critically and for one awful moment, he thought she was about to straighten his tie and smooth his lapels as she might do for one of her teenage sons. But the moment passed and she swept out of the room, the two men trailing in her wake, to face the press pack.
The press conference passed off reasonably well. Pocket Billiards was at his most odious, constantly wheedling to try to get the angle of a potential child suspect. The Super was in her element, deftly fielding all his questions, a ready answer to everything. Ted contented himself with sitting scowling and mentally using his martial arts to inflict a slow and painful death on him.
The ordeal finally over, Ted headed back upstairs, loosening his collar and tie as he went and heading straight for his kettle. He'd just made himself a welcome mug of green tea when his mobile phone rang. Megan Jennings.
'How did the press conference go, boss?'
'Good job I'm not a Catholic. I think I just sinned by thought, wanting to kill a certain reporter of my acquaintance. But I think it went well. The Super handled things smoothly, as usual. What have you found out?'
'Something interesting, I think. I was just chatting to my friend off the record, girl talk, a lot of it, about people we both knew. It wasn't hard to get the conversation round to Lewis Chase. Apparently he's known as a bit of a dog who can't keep his trousers zipped, so I think him saying it was a one-off with Helen Bradbury might be bending the truth a bit.
'Anyway, my friend knows him, but not like that, and was able to tell me he has two sons, both big tall lads, like him. So they don't sound likely as suspects. But she did tell me his wife is tiny. Like a little bird, she put it.'
'Did she, now? Right, I think we need to talk to PC Chase again, find out a bit more about this wife of his and if she could possibly have known about his love-child. I'll call the nick, arrange a time, then can you meet me there, please?'
PC Chase was looking more than a little ill at ease at his second visit from an SIO on a murder case involving a child who had turned out to be his son.