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

by Steven Suttie

  The fire didn’t take any time to take hold. The window that ran up the entire height of the building was burning gradually, but from Belvedere Road, it looked like it was the bottom of the staircase where the main fire was burning. Smoke was wafting out of every conceivable gap in the tower. It took a good ten minutes after the fire had been spotted for the fire brigade to be called. Everybody who had seen the harsh yellow glow, smelled the poisonous smoke and heard the shattering windows and blood curdling cries for help from the windows above, had all assumed somebody else had called.

  When they eventually arrived, some twenty-five minutes after the intruder had lit his fire, the entire building was consumed in a thick, black, poisonous smoke. It must have been too unbearable for the few people who had jumped from the lower floors.

  Below, a gathering crowd looked up in horror as they saw the impending disaster unfold. The putrid smoke was obviously the biggest danger, it was pouring from every window that had a terror-struck face leaning out, screaming and pleading for help. As the fire appliances arrived, there was some confusion as to how they were supposed to gain access to the car park below. Fire Officers were running around, in and out of the ground floor entrance, trying to figure out how to open the huge electronic gate that would allow access for the fire engines. Screams and cries for help were filling the night sky, as the situation at the foot of the tower block proved almost impossible for the assembled fire crews.

  Eventually, after a further five minutes of trying, the gate rolled back and the engines pulled onto the car park. The fire-fighters in the first engine heard a sickening crunch by their side as the driver parked the vehicle. The sound was unmistakable, it was the crushing, deathly sound of a person who had jumped from one of the floors, possibly to escape the fire, but most likely to escape the smoke.

  It was obvious to even the casual onlooker that this fire had been started intentionally, the main fire at the bottom of the stairwell had shattered almost all of the windows around it. The steady breeze that was fanning the flames through the broken windows happily supplied the fire with additional power.

  The red and orange glow was still burning lustily through the various toxic items that the arsonist had placed there. Hope Hospital Accident and Emergency department was put on red alert, as was the Manchester Royal. Scores of ambulances began queuing as firemen undertook their apparently impossible task of drenching the flames and rescuing the residents, a job that needed to be done in that order. The entire stairwell was still bursting with the heavy, black, toxic smoke.

  The situation was being hampered even further by the hysterical panic of the block’s residents. A couple of firemen who were standing below heard a head at one of the windows repeatedly shout “this was Pop.” They didn’t understand what the person meant.

  The first pack of TV news crews arrived - it was Sky, Lisa Warrington’s crew, oblivious to the fact that this had anything to do with Pop. They began shooting the imagery, Paul Mitchell provided a running commentary on the situation as live pictures were beamed onto the nation’s TV screens.

  All of the hoses were pointing into the heart of the fire, the steady flow of high pressured water was quickly making progress against the intense glow. It looked like the fire wouldn’t be too much of a problem to extinguish. While the hoses were jetting the water at the stairwell, other firemen were rescuing residents from the lower floors with their ladders. Progress was slow but steady. The ladders could only reach as high as the third floor windows, so this operation was quickly running out of purpose.

  The call had been made to the divisional command centre, up the road in Pendlebury, requesting a major incident attendance. A further, steady stream of engines pulled up from other stations. The complexity of the job was instantly recognised by the incoming fire-fighters.

  With the arrival of the aerial ladder platform, all of the existing engines had to be reversed back to allow the giant hydraulic crane access to the foot of the building. The machine was quickly parked in place and stabilised. Two officers were despatched on the crane and hoisted up to the maximum height of thirty metres. The cage swung over the first window where the firemen pulled two residents out of the smoking building to the relative safety of the platform. This operation was to continue, pulling two and three people out before being hoisted back down to the ground and re-deployed. From every visible window, the sound of screaming and the pleas for help were harrowing. There was still the occasional snapping-crunch as another panic stricken resident attempted to jump to safety. It was distressing for the firemen on the ground, but also it created a massive hazard to their safety.

  The aerial ladder platform was filled with firefighters in full breathing apparatus, and was hoisted into the air. The cage stopped once again at its maximum height above the dying fire. A window was smashed and they stepped off the platform and into the building. Their objective was to secure the floors from any further smoke access. They were shocked to find that every single fire door on each landing had been propped open with old cookers and fridges.

  Within just an hour of their arrival, the fire service seemed to have taken complete control of the situation, managing to calm the residents that they hadn’t yet reached, advising them to block the doors up with whatever they could find to stop the smoke from entering their flat. They had no idea that the occupants of each flat had barely anything to use to carry out such an obvious task.

  Progress was slow and arduous but eventually, the fifty firemen made the building safe. As the operation came to an end, filmed by the local film crews and TV reporters, it became apparent that most of the people who were living in Walter Greenwood Court had had a very lucky escape.

  As the Incident Commander gave his long awaited interview to Granada, Sky, the BBC and some local radio reporters - it transpired that of the three hundred and ten residents that had been in the block at the time of the fire, only twenty-three people had lost their lives.

  He went on to explain that nine of those people had died from injuries sustained by jumping out of the block. Five died from burns as they tried to escape down the stairwell and the other nine died from smoke inhalation. A total of sixteen people had been admitted to hospital, suffering from the effects of smoke inhalation.

  The live pictures on Sky News made disturbing viewing, particularly as their cameras had inadvertently broadcast two of the jumpers. The story had been given constant feed since the Sky van had arrived at the scene. It was a deeply distressing story for all involved.

  Soon after the Incident Commander had given his press briefing, Pop rang the news channel to inform the broadcasters why the incident had occurred.

  *****

  Ellis was at home, lay on the sofa cuddling little James. Bob had nodded off in his armchair while watching his wildlife programme. As his snoring grew louder, she decided to switch channels, see what Sky were currently reporting on this Pop fiasco.

  The visuals from the scene at Salford Precinct were upsetting to say the least. The sight of all those stranded people screaming from their windows was horrific. She sat up to watch more closely. She sat like that, cradling baby James to her chest as she watched the unfolding disaster for the next hour or so.

  As things were coming to a close, in a surprisingly short amount of time really, the Incident Commander gave a brief interview to the waiting TV teams. He told of the fatalities and injuries, and praised his fire-fighters effective handling of this frightening situation.

  Ellis found it compulsive viewing, she couldn’t tear her attention away from the screen. It came as a great shock, some five minutes after the Incident Commander had finished his brief Q and A session at the scene, when Sky’s evening presenter, Edward Birch, announced that Pop was on the line once again.

  “Hi Edward” said the most famous and replayed voice in the country.

  “Hello. We’ve kind of broken away from your story this evening, as there has been a major tragedy in Manchester, the fire in the block of flats - I don�
�t know if you’ve been watching our output tonight?”

  Pop responded quickly, that pause seemed to be getting shorter.

  “Oh, yes. I’ve been watching it since I got home. I was surprised that you had coverage of it so quickly,” he said. Edward Birch saw an opportunity to sing the channel’s praises.

  “Well, we do pride ourselves on bringing the major news stories to our viewers first.” He gave a smug smile. Pop hadn’t telephoned for this small talk. He continued with his pressing business.

  “You see, Edward. It may surprise you to learn that the fire at Walter Greenwood Court, that killed twenty three people was started by myself.”

  It was a surprise.

  Edward Birch was dumbfounded by the admission. It took him a second to collect himself. Pop kindly continued, in a bid to save Edward’s blushes.

  “It might come as a shock, but that tower block was housing paedophiles. The whole building had been saved from demolition to house these monsters, because they were scared of being shot by me. These child rapists moved in three days ago. Just consider how different that fact makes you feel. Thanks for your time Edward. I’ll have to go, I’ve not had any tea yet.”

  Edward Birch was staring into the camera. He was totally speechless.

  Ellis was staring back at him, feeling exactly the same way.

  Chapter Twenty Seven

  Friday 26 May 6.20am

  80 Moss Bank Drive, Heald Green

  Bob brought coffee up with him. He awoke his wife the best way he knew how, using his fingertips tenderly as he stroked and tickled Karen’s back and neck, and then pulling his fingers slowly through her hair and pressing them ever so gently against her scalp.

  She went through the familiar ritual. She just lay there, pretending she was still asleep. He tended to stop the moment she opened her eyes, so she had figured a long time ago that by pretending it wasn’t waking her, the longer the blissful wake-up would last. She’d been getting away with this for years. Bob just carried on unaware, confident that it would eventually wake her.

  After a while she involuntarily made her “mmm” sound as his fingers moved slowly up her spine and up to the back of her head. It made goose-bumps appear all over her skin.

  “Oh! It’s alive!” said Bob and stopped instantly. “Come on, your coffee is getting cold,” he added as he jumped up off the bed. He went over to the full length mirror and put on his tie.

  “I’m sacking Mick Robinson today. I still haven’t figured out how I’m going to play it, but he goes today!” Bob seemed pretty keyed up for the day’s events.

  “Is James awake yet?” asked Karen in her deep, croaky, un-woken voice. Bob was still fiddling with his tie.

  “No, no yet. He’s a lazy little lump, just like his Mum. I’ll be installing Andy into Mick Robinson’s role on Monday. I’ll ring him later.” Karen leant up on the pillows and took hold of the mug.

  “You’re serious about that aren’t you?” she asked. Bob turned round.

  “About what?”

  “You know, giving Andy that job in the factory,” she said.

  Bob walked over and sat on the bed beside her. “Look if anybody has the ability to turn all this crap around, he does. It’ll be a walk in the park for him. He’s going to be my right hand man, it’s mutually advantageous. He’s fed up sat at home all day, waiting to take the force to tribunal, I’m desperate to get the scumbags on the shop floor working. It’s the perfect solution.” Karen took a big sip from the cup.

  “Well, be warned, if there’s something he’s not happy with, he’ll break your balls until he’s happy with it.”

  “I know. That’s exactly why I’m so keen to get him in there. It works both ways, if there’s something he’s not happy about on the shop floor, then he’ll bust everyone’s balls until its right. Stop trying to put a downer on it.” He stood again and returned to the mirror.

  Karen was incensed. “I’m not trying to put a downer on it Bob! I know that Miller could turn things around, in fact I’ll bet money on it. I just don’t want you falling out. He can be a right difficult bastard if he doesn’t get his way.”

  Bob returned his eyes to his wife. “He’ll get his way. I’ll make damn sure of that.”

  Ellis got out of bed and stood at the mirror, in her pyjama’s. She looked at her body, trying to remember how firm and toned it had looked before she became pregnant. Now all she saw was stretch marks, baggy skin and cellulite. Bob tried to convince her that it was all in her mind but she wouldn’t accept his kind words. She felt as though she looked old and wasted. She felt as though her skin was a few sizes too big for her. She began to dress, knowing that she would feel a lot more attractive with some clothes on. Bob stood there, wondering what it was exactly that was bothering her. He knew that he couldn’t say anything that would change her mind, but tried anyway.

  “You look better than I’ve ever seen you. You’re stunning love, a proper milf. Do you want some toast?”

  “No, I’m on a diet!” she snapped as Bob began descending the stairs. As he reached the bottom, he bent down to retrieve the morning papers from the front door. He was surprised by the story and pictures that they were carrying. He turned to face the stairs and shouted up.

  “Karen, do you know about this?” he asked. He could hear Karen “tut” before she replied.

  “Know about what you daft bugger?” She sounded impatient. Bob took a minute to respond, he was busily reading the story.

  “About Pop setting fire to this block of flats full of paedos?”

  “Yeah,” she shouted down the stairs, “I’m going to be sat in the office all day receiving reports from CID at F Division about it. Aren’t I the lucky one?”

  *****

  Ellis had dropped James at her mum’s and was in the office by eight, after Saunders. After a phone-call from a D.I. at Crescent Station, the first regarding last night’s fire, she decided she wasn’t prepared to sit here another day doing this bullshit “admin” work. She decided that today was the day she was bringing Pop in. The decision made her feel quite uneasy, but she had had enough.

  Once Chapman and Worthington had arrived, she called the group into her office and closed the door so that they would be out of earshot of the constables who had become a great help over the last few days. The conversation that Ellis was about to start was privileged. She already had the idea in her head. She knew basically how it was going to happen, it was now just a case of working out the specific details. There would be only one shot at this, it had to be perfect.

  “Okay, sit down,” she said. The detectives did as they were told. “He’s taking the piss now. How a fire officer wasn’t killed or seriously injured last night is a miracle. He says that he’s careful and nobody unconnected with his campaign is at risk, but that’s total nonsense. How would any of you feel if you’d had to go and tell a fireman’s wife that she’s a widow because a terrified jumper had crushed her husband to death?” Ellis looked at her officers. Nobody spoke. “An innocent bystander is going to be killed, I’m absolutely convinced of it. We’re going to bring him in today.” They all looked at her with a clear expression of relief. She was pleased that they were all looking so keen, glad they were as stirred up for it as she was.

  “Keith, the stakeout you did. you said Dawson was in and out of his house all day?” This was more for Chapman and Worthington’s benefit. She knew every minute detail in Saunders report on Dawson by heart.

  “Guv. He’d drive off somewhere, come back twenty minutes later. He’d do exactly the same all day long. That happened on both occasions that I carried out the surveillance on his property.”

  “Any idea why? What he was doing?” Ellis was quick with the question.

  “No, I think he’s bored, he’d come back carrying something from some shop. A newspaper, a magazine, a new lamp. Weird.”

  “Or hyper?” Ellis seemed as sharp as a razor.

  “Possibly. I don’t know - he may just enjoy keeping moving.”r />
  “No work?”

  “Like I said, he’s not worked since the daughter committed suicide.”

  “Right.Trusting his behaviour patterns are the same, we’ll take him on his street. Here’s what I’m thinking.” Ellis began explaining her idea of how to take Pop into custody, while making the whole charade look like a flukey accident.

  Her plan was simple, though it’s execution would be pretty difficult and would depend on factors out of the small team’s control. Everything had to work perfectly. The slightest cock up would ruin the whole thing and potentially put the detectives, who would be unarmed, in serious danger.

  Ellis went over it time and again. Explaining and re-explaining. Her attention to detail was faultless. Saunders was once again given his task in the field in which he worked best; surveillance. It was to be his responsibility to provide an accurate account of Pop’s movements while drawing absolutely no attention to his presence on the nice little suburban cul-de-sac where the suspect lived.

  Chapman and Worthington were to be given an entirely different role. At last, they were pleased to be given something with some balls about it on this God-forsaken case. Ellis was pleased with their demeanour, she hadn’t counted on their enthusiasm for such a dangerous role considering how badly they’d been treated just recently. It was a relief to see them nodding.

  It was hugely important that each member of the team had the exact same story - there could be absolutely no room for contradictory statements when this was all over. She covered the story they would all use should this mission be a success, but in true Ellis style, she also made sure everybody knew what they were saying should the whole thing go wrong.

  She then described her role in the project and told them to make their way over to Little Lever where they would all meet. Saunders was travelling alone, as was Ellis who would need her own vehicle. Chapman and Worthington would travel together.