One Man Crusade : DCI Miller 1: The Serial Killer Nobody Wants Caught

by Steven Suttie

  “So I heard a knock on the door, which was strange for that time of night, and this lovely looking young thing was stood there. She asked me if I knew Eric, and I invited her in. We had a cup of tea together and she asked me about the fish. She seemed fascinated by them. Anyway, I gave her Eric’s new address and off she went. A lovely young thing she was, so courteous and polite, it made my day did that visit. It really did.” He looked across at Ellis, smiling as he recalled the encounter.

  “Did she give you her name?” asked Saunders.

  “Oh, yes. Lisa. I didn’t catch her surname, but she sounded local.”

  “What did Lisa look like?” pressed Ellis.

  “Well, like I say, she was young. I’d say only eighteen perhaps. Her hair was very long, quite brown. She was a very good looking young lass, I’ll bet she’ll break a few hearts!” He laughed at his observation. Ellis looked at Saunders and they could both feel the buzz that this conversation was creating.

  “Did Lisa explain to you about her purpose for tracking Mr Bradshaw down?” Mr Greaves looked puzzled by Saunders’ question.

  “Come to think of it, no. And I didn’t ask. I suppose it wasn’t really any of my business anyway.” He looked sheepishly at the Detective Sergeant. “I suppose that was foolish of me, wasn’t it?”

  Saunders smiled. “Of course not. Crikey, you weren’t to know, and anyway, there’s every chance that this girl has absolutely nothing to do with the murder,” he said reassuringly.

  “Is that the only person you’ve told about Mr Bradshaw’s address in Sheffield?” asked Ellis as she drained the cup.

  “Yes, yes. Nobody else has asked anything about him. He was a quiet man. I suppose that’s another aspect of his personality that I am beginning to understand.” The little old man was obviously in turmoil about his friendship with a convicted paedophile. “I had no idea you know,” he said, more to himself than the visitors.

  “Mr Greaves, I wonder if you know of anybody else who would have had his new address?” Ellis was beginning the feel bad for pressing the old man like this, but she had to ask.

  “No, like I’ve said, he didn’t mix with anybody else. Just me.” He looked down at his slippers and tutted.

  “Well, thanks very much Mr Greaves, you’ve been really helpful. There is one further thing that you could do for us, if you wouldn’t mind. It would be really helpful if you would come across to headquarters and help our imaging team to create one of those “artist’s impression” pictures of Lisa? We’d pick you up and then bring you home again afterwards.”

  This invitation visibly perked Mr Greaves up.

  “Yes, certainly. I’d like to help. Let me write down my telephone number for you.” He stood shakily and removed the tray from the coffee table, heading unsteadily for the kitchen. They waited by the front door for him to return, and thanked him for his help. Mr Greaves handed Ellis a piece of paper with his contact details on.

  “We’ll give you a call about coming in, do you think that you might be up to it this afternoon?” asked Saunders.

  “Okay then, yes. Will it be a police car that will pick me up?” he asked with an excited, almost childish excitement in his eyes.

  “Yes, one of our Panda cars. Is that alright?”

  “Oh, definitely. Imagine the look on Mrs Gregson’s face! She’ll think I’ve been arrested!” He laughed at his wise crack, Ellis and Saunders joined in.

  “Well, in the meantime, if you could have a good think about what Lisa looks like, it’ll make it easier for you at the station.” They said farewell, and left the old man stirring about the afternoon’s excitement.

  As they neared the gate, Ellis sensed that she was being watched, and glanced up at the house across the road. Melanie was still standing at the broken window, making vulgar gestures with her fingers at the detectives. Ellis waited for Saunders to unlock the car and got in.

  “Yes, you keep flicking the V’s up love. I hope your kids do that to you as they’re being driven away to a decent life.” She kept her gaze locked on Melanie as Saunders drove the car away.

  “Smell you later.” Said Saunders. Ellis laughed.

  “He was a good bloke wasn’t he?” asked Saunders.

  “Yes, lovely. It’s a bit of a turn-up though, this young girl calling round out of the blue.”

  “It’s connected though. Has to be.” Saunders was sure that this was their strongest link to the killer yet. Ellis wasn’t so sure.

  “We’ll see. You might find that it’s totally innocent, some weird coincidence,” she reasoned. “I think we’ll get that photo-fit off Mr Greaves, release it to the press and she’ll be eliminated within the hour.” Ellis had quite a pessimistic take on the situation.

  “We’ll soon find out. Are we going back to work or is there something else to do while we’re over this neck of the woods?” asked Saunders.

  “We’d better get back, fill Miller in. But go past my house, I need to change out these clothes and have a shower, I’m covered in baby shit.”

  Chapter Twelve

  11.00am

  Headquarters

  Back at the SCIU, Miller was sitting with Dixon. The DCS had come down to see Miller to update him on what he knew about the Probation Service’s new computer system, and to scold him about the discovery of his fingerprint at the Wythenshawe crime scene - but he only touched on the subjects briefly, as his attention had been caught by the television. Dixon had spent the past fifteen minutes unproductively watching Sky News with Miller.

  The programming was a non-stop discussion about the murders. The coverage was relentless. Sky had even suspended advert breaks, they had so much to talk about and analyse. Much of what was being discussed between the presenters, criminologists, retired detectives and psychologists that were joining the presenters was based on pure speculation.

  But there was one aspect of their supposition that Miller felt discontented about. The story had broken over an hour ago that Manchester City Police were throwing little or no extra resources at the investigation. The broadcasters claimed that the information had been supplied by “an inside source,” who had stated that the team in charge of the investigation was drastically under-manned and would “usually have more detectives to investigate a serious arson attack.”

  The reason that the report offended Miller so much was because it was so true. Dixon didn’t comment, he just listened and watched as the news channel’s “crime expert” made his assessment of what the numbers of investigating officers should be for this kind of enquiry, stating that, “if Manchester Police had any real desire to go after this individual, they could easily find the resources to throw more than one hundred officers at the investigation, possibly twenty to thirty additional detectives and then, probably a further thirty auxiliary staff. If they really wanted to catch this murderer and take him off the streets, then those are the kind of numbers you might expect to see on DCI Miller’s team, after all, this is the second biggest police force in the UK. But instead, he is currently operating with ten or so. I think we can all draw our own conclusions from that.”

  The presenters were loving this wild speculation, it made the police look inept, which was precisely the angle that Sky News and many other media organisations seemed to be reporting. Miller couldn’t actually fathom out this attitude, since it was so apparent that Sky News wanted desperately for this “Pop” to remain at large and continue to create more sensation for their viewers. Miller leant across and knocked the PC monitor onto standby.

  “What’s wrong with these treacherous bastards? They don’t want him caught, yet they spend the last hour criticising us for not trying hard enough?” He lifted the newspapers off his desk and held them up one at a time in front of Dixon, as he read out the headlines.

  “Wild Goose Chase.” Splashed the Express.

  “Pop, The Pervert Poacher” read the Sun. He laughed at Dixon as he held up the Mirror, which had a mocked - up photo of an armed man shooting wildly at the digitally im
posed photos of infamous sex offenders from down the years.

  “That is exactly the kind of irresponsible reporting that’s creating this bloodlust. I’ve had that news channel on for nearly two hours now and the words “when will Pop strike again?” must have been read out fifteen times, and I’m not exaggerating. I want to bring this one in as soon as, Sir. It’s madness.”

  Dixon glanced long and hard at his weary looking DCI.

  “Well, I can’t promise anything, you know that, but I’ve been called to an urgent meeting at noon with the top brass.” He could see the speculation in Miller’s eyes.

  “What, about this case?” he asked.

  “Well, I assume that’s what it’s regarding. It’s been hastily organised this morning and there really isn’t a great deal of pressing business at the moment, aside from this, so yes - it’s very likely that it is regarding this enquiry.” Dixon could see that this was news that Miller desperately wanted to hear.

  “Can I come?” The DCI asked. Dixon shifted in the chair before crossing his legs.

  “I’m sorry, but they have called a closed conference. Invitation only. They probably know what you’re going to say anyway. Don’t worry, I’ll represent your arguments accordingly.” He seemed sincere, but Miller needed results today, this case was becoming a source of deep embarrassment to him, and that would soon filter through to the rest of the team.

  “Well listen, right, if they give you the run around, bull-shitting you, trying to force you into a corner, and then you come down here and tell me to play on as we are, I’m sorry Sir, but I’m resigning. Ethical reasons.” He looked straight at his boss as he spoke, ensuring that Dixon understood every word.

  “You can’t just resign half way through an enquiry such as this…”

  Miller burst into the sentence, second-guessing what Dixon was about to say.

  “Hey, just a second, Sir. From the third murder in this, I wouldn’t call it an enquiry at all. It’s a dog’s dinner. The second and first murders were dealt with in the usual fashion. The third I noticed seemed to have very little priority and now, there’s no precedence whatsoever.”

  “Andy…”

  “Listen Sir, in my job I follow a simple formula. That is, murderers get hunted by us, then they are arrested, we build a case against them and then send them off to jail, Problem is though, the way things are going, we’ll never catch this guy. So you tell the top brass that if I don’t get a reasonable amount of budget, staff and access, I’m off. And I’ll make sure that everybody knows why, I’m not bothered. Honestly, Sir. I’m not letting the internal politics in this place wreck my reputation.”

  Dixon stood. He waited a second to ensure that Miller was through.

  “Okay, look. I’ve already told you that I’m not happy with this carry on myself, but I’ll be damned if I’m about to risk losing you over this blasted case. I’ll do my best. I promise.” He turned and left. Miller felt that he’d finally got through and felt confident that this case was about to be investigated seriously.

  Dixon closed the door behind him and Miller could hear him talking to Ellis. The old rascal was always flirting with her, and she was just as bad, mainly out of awkwardness. Saunders knocked and walked in.

  “Alright Keith?”

  “Morning Sir. Just got back from Bury.” He watched Miller flick the news channel back on the PC monitor. Ellis entered and sat down next to Saunders.

  “Anything?” he asked as he adjusted his eyes from the computer to his DI and DS.

  “Yes.” Ellis went through the details that had come to light while they were over at Mr Greaves’ house.

  Miller looked very alarmed at what had turned up, his initial instinct told him that this girl’s visit was beyond coincidence. Ellis looked at Saunders as he licked the tip of his index finger, pointed it into the air and made a “Tssss” sound.

  “Had he seen her before, had this Eric mentioned a young girl? Daughter, grand-daughter, niece perhaps?” asked Miller. Ellis covered everything that Mr Greaves had said, that he wasn’t aware of Eric knowing any young girls, let alone having any family.

  Miller was troubled. He considered the situation for a few minutes. Ellis and Saunders knew to remain silent when their boss went quiet like this. Eventually he spoke.

  “Right, Keith go and get everything you can on Eric Bradshaw, full life history. I want to know if he’s been married, separated, walked out on kids, anything like that. If this girl’s about eighteen, then that’s the kind of age that people get it into their heads about tracing missing relatives. It could be innocent all this, but I’ve got a really strong feeling that it isn’t.”

  “Sir.”

  “When’s the neighbour coming to do the photo-fit?” he asked Ellis, as Saunders headed out of the door.

  “He is prepared to come in today, if we can fix it,” she said. Miller lifted his phone and looked through the internal extensions directory that was pinned to the wall.

  “We can fix it,” he said before speaking into the telephone. Ellis averted her attention to Sky News, and the angle that the channel were pursuing about the lack of resources being displayed by Manchester Police.

  “Tom! Hi, it’s Miller. Yeah. Listen. I’ve arranged for a witness to come down to make a photo-fit. Today would be best. No, I’d really appreciate today. Brilliant, what time do you come off your lunch? Great, I’ll have him over here for one thirty then. Cheers Tom, thanks mate.” He replaced the handset.

  “Half one, can you oversee the procedure?” he asked Ellis, knowing that it’s a shitty job to have to do, but he figured from the way that she’d been talking about Mr Greaves that she had built up a bit of a rapport with him. He didn’t want the old man becoming overwhelmed and disorientated when he got in front of the computer screen. Reluctantly, Ellis agreed.

  “What’s all this “insider” talk about?” she asked in reference to the incessant dialogue from the news channel.

  “Oh don’t worry about that. It’ll be some constable who’s overheard something in the canteen trying to make a quick five-hundred quid.”

  “Are you not bothered?” she asked, astonished at Miller’s laid-back stance on the situation. Miller lifelessly pushed the standby button on his screen.

  “Nah, there’s going to be worse shit thrown at us than this, believe me,” he said while transferring a pile of paper from one side of his desk to the other.

  “Anyway, I’ll see how it goes with Sky News. If they continue to slag us off. If they do, I’ll threaten to withdraw my permission for the phone calls!” He sounded quite unconvincing to Ellis.

  “Oh aye - that fingerprint I left yesterday was discovered.”

  Ellis didn’t look surprised.

  “I thought it would. What was all that about, anyway?”

  “Promise you won’t tell anyone?” Miller had a sheepish grin on his face. Ellis laughed.

  “No. Go on, what’s going on?”

  Miller’s face returned to normal. “I think I’m bloody cracking up! I thought it was Gray.”

  Ellis looked confused. “Thought what was Gray?”

  “Pop! I started thinking that Gray might be responsible for the murders!”

  Ellis laughed heartily, mainly because she was given such a golden opportunity to take the piss.

  “You’re kidding me! Gray?” Her face lit up the room.

  “I know, barking mad. It’s just, I don’t know - I think it was his attitude. That’s how desperate I am for a result. I’ll be suspecting Chapman next!” They both laughed loudly, but at the back of Ellis’ mind, she couldn’t help worrying that maybe Miller was getting a bit too far off the mark with such mad ideas.

  Miller changed the subject swiftly. “Worthington and Chapman have found a new witness, over at Middleton. Some young lass who was having a crafty fag out of her bedroom window saw the gunman walking around outside the house for a few minutes before he pumped the four bullets into his target. Similar kind of description in that the girl s
aw very little of significance. They asked her why she hadn’t come forward with the information before, and guess what?” Miller was wearing a sarcastic smirk. Ellis laughed, she knew what was coming.

  “She didn’t want to get into trouble for smoking?” she asked.

  “Well done Detective Inspector! That’s exactly right. Anyway, it sounds like she’s not in trouble for smoking, but from what Worthington can ascertain, her Dad’s thinking of grounding her for helping us! Is that bloody marvellous or what?”

  “It’s not surprising really. I’m not surprised.”

  Miller avoided eye contact with Ellis. There was no way that he was prepared to have this discussion yet again. “Dixon’s been called to an urgent meeting, top rank only,” he announced, hoping to change the subject swiftly. Ellis looked curious as he continued. “He’s not sure what it’s about, but you can pretty much guarantee that it’s about this.”

  “Well, we’ll be sure to get some more support, especially with all this adverse publicity,” offered Ellis. Miller looked thoughtful.

  “Will we though? Is anybody really interested in how much effort the police are putting in? Sure, the newspapers and Sky News keep banging on about it at the moment, but that’s only to keep the subject alive before they get their next murder to report. I’m not convinced that the notion of us not trying to catch this killer is such a bad PR exercise. Think about it, we are criticised for everything we do, perhaps top rank believe that offering little or no desire to take this mad-man off the streets could create a more “human” looking police force, a service that recognises the public mood. Plus, of course, there’s the old politics shite to contend with. I don’t know how many of our most senior officers have spoken publicly about their views on sex offenders in recent years, but I know that a few have, and that they have expressed their frustration.” Ellis nodded, it made sense.