Wild Thing: 'a chilling cold-blooded killer' (Ted Darling crime series Book 7)

by L M Krier

'Do I need a solicitor, sir?' he asked bluntly, as soon as Ted and Megan went into the interview room and sat down opposite him.

  'You are not at this stage under suspicion of any crime, PC Chase. I just wanted to ask you some further questions, following information which has come to my attention. You're not obliged to answer, but clearly it would be helpful if you did and might therefore be in your own best interest.'

  Ted's formal tone clearly rattled him. He wiped the back of his hand across his forehead, suddenly beaded with sweat.

  'Tell me again, PC Chase, is there any possibility that anyone in your family might know that you are the father of an illegitimate child? I'm assuming there is only one, although information which has recently come to my attention suggests that might not necessarily be the case.'

  Chase opened and closed his mouth a few times before he found his voice.

  'All right, I sometimes get a bit carried away. Don't most men? But the missus doesn't know, I swear, and I'd like to keep it that way.'

  'What size shoes does your wife take, PC Chase?' Ted's calmly-posed question, seemingly out of the blue, took him by surprise.

  'She's, er, I'm not sure, sir. Small, I do know. About a Size 3, I think? I know she's always complaining she can't often find the styles she wants in the right size.'

  'It may be necessary for us to interview your wife, PC Chase.'

  Now he looked horrified.

  'But she knows nothing about this, sir. She doesn't know I had a kid with Helen. Even I didn't know it was my little lad who was murdered. If she got wind of any of this, it would wreck our marriage. She can be very jealous.'

  'PC Chase,' Ted said coldly. 'I am investigating the particularly nasty murder of a little boy. One who just happened to be your illegitimate son. Your sensibilities and the state of your marriage are of absolutely no concern to me. Be under no illusions, I will do whatever it takes to find out who did this. Are we clear on that?'

  'Yes, sir,' he replied miserably. 'Can I at least talk to her first?'

  'Absolutely not. You must surely understand why. Now, where can we find your wife?'

  Ted had driven up in his own car which he left at the station and went with Megan on the short journey over to where PC Chase and his wife lived. Chase had told them that his wife worked mornings so was likely to be at home that afternoon.

  There was no car on the driveway but there was one parked outside so they had to park a short distance away and walk. There was a long pause between Megan ringing the doorbell and the front door opening.

  The woman who stood there was certainly petite. About five feet two, Ted judged, comparing her to his own size. She looked a little flushed, her hair untidy, her clothes clearly thrown on in haste.

  Both officers held up their warrant cards for her inspection as Ted introduced them both.

  'I'm sorry to disturb you, Mrs Chase, but I wondered if we might come in and have a word. It's to do with a case we're conducting in Stockport. It's possible you may be able to help us with a line of enquiry.'

  She looked decidedly uncomfortable and Ted didn't miss the anxious glance she threw towards the stairs as she stood aside to allow them in, then led the way through to a sunny kitchen at the back of the house, with a minuscule conservatory outside it.

  'Erm, do you want a cup of tea or something?' she asked uncertainly.

  'No thank you, Mrs Chase. It's just a few questions.'

  'You'd better sit down, then.'

  She indicated chairs at the kitchen table and sat down opposite Ted, still straightening her clothes.

  'Do you know anyone called Helen Bradbury?'

  She looked from one to another of them before she replied.

  'I don't think so. The name doesn't sound familiar. Who is she?'

  'Ms Bradbury is the mother of the little boy who was murdered in Stockport on Monday.'

  Ted spoke bluntly, watching for a reaction.

  The woman's hand flew to her face and her eyes widened as she replied, 'Oh, God yes, I saw that on the news. That poor woman, what she must be going through. But I don't understand. How do you think I can help with the case? I don't know the woman at all, or the poor little boy. I would honestly help you if I could. Anything to help catch the sort of sick bastard who could do something like this to a defenceless little child.'

  'You've seen the photos of Tyler? Did anything strike you about him, when you saw them?'

  There was silence for a moment as she looked in bewilderment from Ted to Megan and back again.

  Then, 'Oh, bloody hell, no. Not that. The bastard! The little lad was Lewis's? Did he know that? So, what – you think I found out and decided to do away with the child for some reason? Believe me, I'd be far more likely to kill Lewis than harm one hair of any child's head, even his bastard.

  'So I need an alibi, do I, for the day it happened? Well, you tell me when, and I'll give you an alibi. Bloody hell will I give you an alibi.'

  'Let's start with Monday, Mrs Chase. Can you tell me what you were doing on Monday?'

  'I was at work in the morning, as usual. I'm a part-time clerical assistant for a solicitor. I'll give you their contact details. They can vouch for me for the morning. And as for the afternoon ...'

  She rose to her feet and went to the doorway to the hall and stairs, sticking her head through the gap and calling, 'Barry! Get your arse down here. I need you.'

  They heard light footsteps coming down the stairs then a man appeared through the doorway, barefoot, tucking his shirt hastily into his trousers. His eyes widened and he gaped as he saw Megan.

  'Hello, Sarge, long time no see,' she said, smiling at his discomfort. 'This is DCI Darling. Have you met?'

  'Bloody hell,' was all the DS could manage before he pulled himself together. 'Sorry, sir. DS Barry Stephens. We've not met, I don't think. Look, this is all a bit awkward.'

  He pulled a spare chair out and sat down next to PC Chase's wife.

  'Are you meant to be on duty at the moment, DS Stephens?'

  'No, sir, I'm on a day off.'

  'Then I'm not concerned with what you do in your spare time. Can you tell me where you were on Monday afternoon? Say from lunchtime to about four o'clock.'

  The man grimaced.

  'Now that really is awkward. I was here, with Tracey, and I should have been on duty for part of it. Are you going to tell my boss, sir?'

  Ted threw him a look of contempt.

  'No, DS Stephens, you are. I'm not remotely interested in your grubby little affair, I'm busy working on a murder case. But if I find out later that you haven't told your DI, and that you haven't put an end to your personal life interfering with your work, then you and I will talk again.'

  As they walked back to the car, Megan chuckled.

  'I'm glad there is some natural justice in life sometimes. Chase thinks he's the big caveman, running after the women and all the time his wife is sleeping with a DS. But I would say that probably rules her out, doesn't it? And her feet are the wrong size, even if she didn't have a pretty good alibi.'

  Chapter Eight

  Megan dropped Ted off to pick up his own car, then they drove back in convoy to their own station. They both had loose ends to tie up and reports to write before they could finish for the day and relax over a drink in The Grapes. Maurice and Steve would be babysitting for Jezza, as usual, so they wouldn't linger. Jezza still didn't know why Nat would never come up to the flat to collect her if Maurice was there when they went out, preferring to wait outside for her to go down. She would have been furious if she'd known of Maurice's physical threat to him, the first time they had gone out together.

  Ted wanted to call DS Rakale at South Manchester, to make sure she felt her team could cope if they started getting inundated with calls from witnesses after the press coverage and had to start checking out anyone they mentioned.

  Since the team there had been streamlined, there was only her and two DCs, Graham Winters and Charlie Eccles. Ted had high hopes for DC Winters who'd sho
wn himself to be capable of good work, with the right direction. As far as he was concerned, the jury was still out over Eccles, who had a long way to go to make any kind of a good impression.

  'I'm working over the weekend, and I've got Graham on tomorrow and Charlie on Sunday, sir. We've already had a few calls as there was a brief mention on the lunchtime news, so you know what it's like. I can get all the help I need from Uniform now, though. Things are quite harmonious between us, now the old guard have gone.'

  The former DI there had always ridden roughshod over the Uniform branch, treating them like his personal lackeys and bending rules all the time. There had been no love lost between uniformed officers of any rank and the old CID team.

  'I'm on call any time for anything you might need. And I do mean anything. Don't hesitate. I'll probably drop in briefly on Sunday, in any case, to see how you're getting on. I'll also send you some reinforcements on Monday, to help with the legwork. You don't need another DS; you strike me as more than capable, but you can have DI Rodriguez, Jo, and I'll send you a DC. Don't forget though, just call me if you need anything.'

  It was nice to relax with the team after a long and difficult week. The first round at the pub was always on Ted, yet another reason he was so popular. It was a time to forget talking shop and just chat like any other office workers at the end of the week.

  Gradually, those with families and partners waiting started to drift away. Jo seemed to realise that the boss needed a bit of company so he stayed on a while longer and got another round in. It was good to talk, to spend some time together away from work. Ted didn't really know all that much about his new DI yet and it was the ideal opportunity to get to know him a bit better.

  When they finally parted, Ted picked up a takeaway on his way back, knowing he wouldn't feel much like cooking for himself. The cats gave him a hard time when he arrived home, swarming around his legs and claiming to be starving, although he could clearly see that Trev had given them plenty to eat before he'd left. Even with six affectionate cats, the house felt quiet and empty without Trev's presence.

  Ted tried to settle down to watch some television, but couldn't concentrate. He was planning to work through the weekend, just for something to do. He hated being apart from Trev. He knew he would miss him the whole time he was gone, but tried to be happy for him, having a wonderful time in the south of France.

  It was late before Trev finally phoned. Ted had gone up to bed and was reading an Ian Rankin crime fiction book, though he found himself starting the same page over and again, subconsciously worried until he heard that his partner had arrived safely.

  'Ted, you should see it. We're staying on a luxury yacht off Cap Ferrat. You could honestly fit most of our downstairs into my bedroom. It's amazing!' Trev's voice was full of enthusiasm.

  Ted knew he would be loving it. He would hate it himself. It highlighted the difference between them. Even after so many years together, he couldn't believe his luck in having Trev as his partner, nor profess to understand the chemistry which kept them together. He always made a joke of it, trotting out a quote from his favourite film, Blazing Saddles, 'What's a dazzling urbanite like you doing in a rustic setting like this?'

  'I'm glad you're having a good time. Go and enjoy your jet-setting, while you can. Take care though, won't you?'

  'You make sure you eat. Remember you're invited to your mum's for lunch on Sunday. That way I know you'll get at least one decent meal while I'm away. Oh, and don't over-feed the cats. I'll call you when I can. Love you.'

  Then he was gone.

  Ted decided to go and do his own investigations of the park and the area around Tyler Bradbury's home the following day. He knew his team would have done a first rate job and wouldn't have missed anything vital. But Ted liked to see things with his own eyes, on his own, if he could. He would sometimes pick up things or get ideas that way which were useful in solving a case. Working like that, with no one to distract him, it gave him a chance to get inside the head of victims or suspects, often with surprising results.

  Away from the station, he could dress as he pleased, so he opted for his comfortable walking trousers, a polo and light fleece jacket, with his fell-walking boots. He wouldn't look out of place wandering around the park dressed like that. He'd collected the Batman toy Steve had ordered online for him and tucked it carefully inside his fleece. There was only a light drizzle and his jacket was shower-proof, so he decided to walk the short distance to the park.

  He hadn't bothered to track down the keys to Helen Bradbury's house. He was more interested in the garden and the area around it. He'd worked out roughly where the house backed on to the park and made his way there from the gates.

  There was nobody about. Clearly the park held no attraction to anyone fairly early on a damp Saturday morning. He found the back gate to the property, high enough that he could just see over it if he stood on tiptoe. It was locked, as he'd expected, but he was fit and it presented him with no problems. He glanced around. There was no sign of anyone, even in the neighbouring houses. If anyone did happen to see him, he had his warrant card in his pocket to explain his presence there. He hoisted himself up easily, swung over and dropped lightly down the other side into the small garden.

  He stood perfectly still for a moment, letting his eyes travel round, taking in everything. The garden looked unkempt. The lawn could have done with some attention and the uninspired planting of shrubs to either side showed a lack of any pruning in recent times. He remembered that it was a rental property and it looked it. No one loved it and cared for it as their own.

  He walked up to the house and looked in through the back window. It was frugally furnished but looked comfortable. A table by the window clearly served as Helen Bradbury's workstation, so she could keep an eye on her little boy, playing in the garden. The back door was frosted glass and he couldn't see in, but through the window he could look into the kitchen, to the side of the living room, where there was a telephone on the wall. He could see that it was not a cordless model. He'd need to go in at some point to check if the mother could see into the garden while she was on the phone, or if she'd had her eyes off her son for long enough for him to disappear.

  Next Ted turned back to the garden and took Batman out of his jacket. He needed to find out if it was possible to launch the toy high enough for it to fly out of the garden. He fitted the figure into the launcher and tentatively pulled the rip cord. Gotham City's favourite hero certainly reached some altitude, to his surprise, but didn't move far away, coming to land not all that far from where Ted was standing.

  He tried experimenting with the angle at which he held the launcher, quickly finding out that a safely lock kicked in and prevented the launch taking place if the angle was too great. Now he was talking quietly to himself as he experimented.

  'So, you went a bit further down the garden, a bit nearer to the back fence, did you? What happens if I launch him from here? No, still not right. What about from here, with more of an angle? Ah, right, there you go, Batman, on your way to freedom. So what now, Tyler?'

  He looked at the gate and discovered a bolt above the latch, which would have been out of reach of a small boy.

  'Now what?' He was still talking to himself, half under his breath, as he looked around, noticing a plastic garden chair, lying a short distance away, on its side. 'You get the chair to stand on? Mam's told you never to go out of the garden. But you have to get Batman back. And you'll only be gone a minute, so it doesn't really count. So you stand on the chair and pull the bolt open. Then what? You put the chair back because you know you're not allowed to climb on things. Clever boy.

  'Now the gate's unlocked, so you can go out and get Batman back before your mam even notices. So who do you meet when you step out through that gate?'

  As he spoke, he pulled back the bolt, lifted the latch and opened the gate, then nearly jumped out of his skin at two voices, both shouting at him at the same time.

  'Police officer! Stand still! D
on't move!'

  'Taser officer! Don't move. Taser! Taser! Taser!'

  Ted gaped in surprise at PC Susan Heap, taser drawn and pointing straight at him, and a young officer he hadn't seen before, standing with one hand on his baton, the other holding a CS spray which was also pointing towards him.

  Ted calmly lifted both his hands, aware as he did so that he was still clutching the Batman launcher and hoping that Susan Heap didn't think it was a firearm. He didn't fancy being tasered.

  'It's a fair cop, guv, I think is the standard phrase, but it's me, PC Heap, so please don't taser me.'

  'Sorry sir,' the constable said contritely, immediately putting her taser away, 'but we got a call from a neighbour to say someone was acting suspiciously and had made a forced entry to the property. Given the address and knowing what happened here, we were sent straight over.

  'Sir, with respect, wouldn't it have been a good idea to warn the nick that you were coming here? You know better than anyone that resources are in short supply and Gavin and I have had a wasted trip out here. This is Gavin Jackson, by the way. He's only just joined us.'

  Ted reached cautiously into his pocket and pulled out his warrant card to show to the young officer, once he'd lowered his spray and no longer looked likely to use it.

  'DCI Darling,' he told him. 'Nice to meet you, PC Jackson, and don't worry, I don't make a habit of house-breaking. I was just trying out a theory.'

  He turned back to Susan Heap and continued, 'You're absolutely right, of course, PC Heap. I should have done and I apologise for wasting your time. I didn't see anyone about, or I would have explained myself. I consider myself thoroughly told off. Now please may I have my toy back, officer? Out of interest, how far did he fly?'

  PC Jackson was looking at Ted as if he not only doubted that he was a senior officer but had concerns over his sanity. He'd obviously decided it was best to humour him.

  'Just over there, sir. Shall I get him for you?'

  Ted looked to where he was pointing. He was impressed. Batman had made a respectable flight this time.