“Am I missing something?” he asked. “I hope this isn't a celebration of me leaving the team, by any chance?”
“Not at all, sir,” said Ross. “Sergeant Drake has just announced her engagement.
“Oh, yes, the young man from the mortuary. I'd heard about that. Congratulations, Sergeant.”
“Thank you, sir, but, wait a minute. Where did you hear about it?”
“Doctor Nugent at the lab was talking to me yesterday. Seems your young man had already told him the news.”
“Is there anyone on the Merseyside Police force who doesn't know about it?” Izzie groaned, still smiling.
“Okay, everyone. That's enough, I think,” said Ross. “Can we do something for you sir?” he enquired of the D.C.I.
“Just thought I'd sit in and see where we're at, if that's okay with you,” Porteous replied.
“Of course, sir. Take a seat. Right, everyone, let's get to it.”
The earlier frivolity quickly forgotten, the small group of detectives took their seats and all attention focussed on D.I. Ross as he cleared his throat and instead of his usual request for updates, which he knew in his heart would all be negatives, he decided on a new tack, having been awake for much of the night, allowing the theory that had been forming in his mind the previous day to percolate and take shape.
With Drake seated to his right and Christine Bland to the left, he began.
“First, I want to say that I know we've all been working bloody hard on this case, with very little to show for it. That's nobody's fault, because the clues just haven't been there, we have no witnesses and so far, we're only guessing at a motive, though we're all pretty much agreed on revenge, some kind of vengeance or retribution as the number one possibility. The question we have to answer is exactly what the killers feel they are avenging.”
“It has to be a rape, sir, surely,” said Derek McLennan.
“I agree, Derek, but a rape that took place years ago when Remington and Proctor were young men, or one that took place very recently? Also, we have to remember that Mark Proctor had no criminal record, had never been arrested on suspicion of committing any crime whatsoever, and not so much as a parking ticket against his name. I'll come back to him later.”
“So, how do we find out which it is, sir?”
“Exactly, Derek, and if we find the answer to that question, we could be one step from identifying the murderers. Doctor Bland's original profile still holds good as far as I'm concerned. We know the type of people we're looking for, but unless we can pin down the crime that links our victims to them, we're still blundering around in the dark.”
“So, what do we do next sir?” came a question from Sam Gable.
This was it. Ross prepared to test his theory. He'd outlined it very briefly to Maria over breakfast. His wife, always a willing sounding board for his more outlandish ideas, agreed it had merit and urged him to put it to the team.
“I have an idea, and I want you all to listen very carefully. I've had a theory taking shape in my mind over the last two days, and it's time you all heard it, so here goes.
Let's assume for one minute that this case has its roots in events that took place back in the nineteen-sixties at Speke Hill. Just remember that what I'm about to say is just an idea, a conjecture, a wild speculation on my part of what may have taken place, so bear with me as I outline it to you, and we can discuss it when I've finished.
Matthew Remington, known as 'Plug' apparently because of some resemblance he bore to a character in The Beano, a popular kid's comic of the day for those who don't know it, was obviously not the best looking kid on the block. Mark Proctor, however, was good looking, a talented boxer, at least until he passed through puberty and piled a few pounds on, and had a reputation for being a bit of a bully. Knowing how kids minds work, let's suppose young Proctor took Remington under his wing, and young 'Plug' became dependent on Proctor for protection, and in gratitude, became a devoted follower of the better looking and by all accounts, more intelligent boy. As they grow older, Proctor and Remington indulge in typical acts of schoolboy bullying, nothing overtly serious, but then, that word puberty raises its head again.
They begin to experience the beginnings of sexual urges. Whether they managed to experiment with any of the girls at Speke Hill, I can't say, but, and here's a wild card, the priest at St. Luke's in Woolton, Father Gerald Byrne, admits to suffering a recurring nightmare that makes no sense, as though his mind is mixing up a pot-pourri of fact and fiction. In it, he sees Proctor, Remington and two other lads, as yet unknown, attacking his sister, Angela. In this dream he sees Proctor trying to force his sister's legs apart, an obvious reference to sexual assault, but Father Byrne assures us that no such attack took place while he and his sister were at Speke Hill. However, years later, Angela was attacked by persons unknown in an attempted sexual assault, managed to break away from her assailant and in the course of running away, the poor girl ran across a road and into the path of an oncoming car, which knocked her down, the young woman eventually dying from her injuries.”
A low buzz of sympathetic noises quickly went round the conference room like a Mexican wave.
“Yes, I know, bloody horrible set of circumstances, I agree, but, that's how it happened. Now, Christine, Doctor Bland, assured Father Byrne that such nightmares are quite common, where fact and fiction become distorted, particularly where childhood memories are concerned. She's offered to try and probe his memories through hypnosis, and just before Sergeant Drake came to see me with her happy news, the good Father called me to say he'd thought it over and he's agreed to allow Doctor Bland one session only in which to try and unlock his memories. The thing is, this dream, nightmare call it what you will is in fact the first suggestion we've had of Mark Proctor being involved in any overtly sexually deviant behaviour, and I think the young Gerald Byrne actually did see or hear something all those years ago, something his mind has blanked out, which has then become entangled with the terrible memories of what happened to his sister. Doctor Bland agrees and hopes to untangle those memories. If we can find one tiny clue as to what took place at Speke Hill, and who the other boys in Byrne's dream are, we may actually and surprisingly have our first tangible clue.
Now, my theory gets a little more outside the box here. Let's suppose that the four boys involved in whatever took place at Speke Hill, assuming Byrne's dream to have its basis in fact, which again, Doctor Bland thinks is highly probable, not only got up to some kind of sexual activity in their teens, but then carried on their aberrant behaviour into adulthood. The four of them remain in touch and go on to carry out a series of rapes and sexual assaults over a period of time. We know Remington was convicted of the rape of Claire Morris, and we've since learned of his unreported attack on the unfortunate Lisa Kelly, so who's to say there weren't more attacks over the years? As for Proctor, Mr. Squeaky Clean is obviously far from that, but we have no evidence to prove it, as yet. I want a full scale probe launched into every aspect of Proctor's life. His wife clearly has no idea what her husband was getting up to, but he must have been going somewhere from time to time and giving her a load of bullshit about what he was up to. Maybe she thought he was doing extra curricular teaching, coaching some fictitious sports team, I don't know. Maybe she thought he was having an affair and didn't dare ask him about it in case she was right and her 'perfect' marriage collapsed like a house of cards around her ears.
Izzie, I want you in charge of a comprehensive probe into Proctor's life, and I mean every aspect of it. Sam,” he said, turning to look at D.C. Gable, “you'll work with Sergeant Drake on this, as you at least have a little knowledge of how Speke Hill worked a few years ago through your childhood friends and you worked Vice for a time so you have some idea how the whole sex crime thing works.”
“Yes sir,” Gable replied.
“Paul,” he said next, addressing D.C. Ferris, “I want you to give them all the back-up you can from whatever records you can access on that super computer
of yours, and anything Sergeant Drake needs, she gets, understood?”
“No problem, sir.”
“Right, now, where was I? Oh yes, back to the subject of Speke Hill. Something is 'off' about that place. I know all the staff there today are new compared to the time period we're looking at, apart from Father Byrne of course, who was there as a boy, but he's only their visiting chaplain, and not there on a full tine basis. The thing is, they have records, and I would have thought they would show up any incidents of potentially serious aberrant behaviour in any of their pupils, even all those years ago, but according to the secretary, there's no mention of anything like that in any school or orphanage records.”
“Sir,” came an interruption from Derek McLennan.
“Yes, Derek, what is it?”
“Sorry for interrupting, but I can think of two reasons why the secretary came up with nothing.”
“Go on, Derek, we're listening.”
“Well sir, back in the sixties, the orphanage and the school were still very much under the control of the Catholic Church. I know that the council had assumed overall control of the place, but from what we've discovered so far about the place, it wasn't like any other Council-run home or school I've ever known. Most of the teachers were still Catholic priest and nuns, with a smattering of 'civilian' teaching staff, for want of a better word. The same applies to the actual orphanage where the Church retained most of the control over the place until well into the seventies. Anyway, sir, my point is this: if such incidents took place under the auspices of the Roman Catholic Church, as stupid as it may sound to us today, it's possible the priest in charge of those boys might have known about it and dealt with it internally. We're talking Catholic Church, remember, sir. If the boys were caught and knew they were in a lot of bother, it's possible they admitted their transgressions to the priests and were given the opportunity to repent their sins in return for forgiveness, or, they admitted their crimes under the absolute secrecy of the confessional, in which case the priest who heard their confession could never reveal what he'd heard to another soul.”
Ross was impressed by the thought that McLennan had put into his own theory, and said so.
“Well done, Derek, good thinking. The whole sanctity of the confessional could be covering up a multitude of sins here and we can't do a thing about it unless we can find out the truth some other way. I just hope Father Byrne provides us with some names if there really are two more possible rapists out there. Anyway, you said you had a couple of ideas concerning the records?”
“Oh yes, sir. The second idea is that just possibly the bloody secretary is quite simply lying to us.”
“You know, Derek, that same thought had struck me too, though I don't know why the woman would want to protect them.”
“Ah, but it wouldn't be them she's protecting, Inspector.” D.C.I. Porteous rarely spoke at these morning conferences, but for once he decided to add a little input.
“Sir?”
“She sounds like a few women I've come across over the years. Middle-aged spinster, no love life to speak of, married to the job and fiercely loyal to her employers. If she was going through those records and found something she thought might be potentially embarrassing or detrimental to those who pay her wages and give her a focus in her life, I certainly wouldn't put it past a woman like that to lie to protect their name and reputation. Then again, you also have the possibility she's lying to protect the killers themselves due to her having some connection with them. Perhaps she was in love with Mark Proctor, even to the extent of having an affair with him. What you need is a search warrant and or a court order to open up those old records, and I'll see that you get them.”
“I see what you mean sir, and thank you. Even the old bat who seems to be jealously guarding those records can't turn us away now. Sounds as if we need to look a little more closely at the secretary. What's her name again, Derek?”
“Manvers, sir, Vera Manvers.”
“Right, that's a job for you, please, Derek. Find her home address. Visit her away from school. I'd put money on the fact that her office at Speke Hill is her ultimate comfort zone, a place where she feels in total control. Maybe you turning up on her doorstep will succeed in rattling her cage a bit.”
“Right sir, I'll see to it.”
Porteous now raised a hand and Ross gave the D.C.I. his full attention.
“You want to say something else, sir?”
“Yes, Andy. Please don't think I'm interfering but let me say this. I've listened to this briefing and I'm impressed by your theory. It has a ring of credibility about it, but as you say, we've no actual evidence yet to even suggest Proctor's involvement in any crimes at all. Can I make a suggestion?”
“Please do, sir. You know I'm always ready to hear your thoughts. You're the boss after all.”
“Yes, but we all know who the brains of this squad is, Detective Inspector. Anyway, compliments aside, I think what you're suggesting beneath the thinly veiled exterior of your theory, is that Remington, Proctor and two other, as yet unidentified men met as boys at Speke Hill and grew up to form some hideous gang of rapists, possibly helping each other to target and select their victims, maybe even helping in the actual rapes themselves. I'm going to second D.C. Dodds to the squad again for the duration of this case and he and young Curtis can work on listing every unsolved rape case, and indeed, attempted rapes, for the last twenty years in Liverpool and the surrounding area. Obviously, when such cases occurred they'd normally have been investigated as single cases but suspecting what we do now, we may find that a pattern emerges, something that will link a number of them together and may point us in the direction of these bastards. I think we definitely have a pair of vigilantes at work, and it's almost certain they're reacting to an unsolved case where they feel the rapists got away with it, or perhaps were arrested but never came to trial, another angle we should look at, so we need to work fast to try and bring the other two rapists in to custody before our killers can strike again. We may also find a study of those unsolved cases will identify the vigilantes' motive for this sudden spree of killings.”
“Yes, sir, thank you sir,” said Ross, impressed by his boss's immediate grasp and acceptance of his theory, and for throwing his weight behind it by the addition of Nick Dodds to the squad for the duration. He felt he needed to add one thing, though.
“Can I suggest that in addition to the unsolved rapes, we also have Dodds and Curtis include unsolved serious sexual assaults for the period, too? We all know there's often a fine dividing line between the two.”
“Of course, Andy, you see to it. Now, I'll leave you to it, and good luck everybody.”
A short series of “Thank you sirs,” emanated from the assembled detectives as D.C.I. Porteous exited the room, closing the door quietly as he left.
“Bloody hell, sir, that was a turn up,” said Curtis.
“Yes, it was, rather, Curtis,” Ross agreed. “Thankfully the boss agreed with my theory. So, let's get to work. You all know what you need to do, so come on people, let's find ourselves a couple of killers, not to mention a possible pair of serial rapists while we're at it.”
The sound of chair legs grating once again on the conference room floor not only put Ross's teeth on edge, but signalled the end of the meeting as everyone set off to work on their allotted tasks. Izzie Drake stopped at Ross's office door on her way to begin the in-depth investigation into the life of Mark Proctor, beginning, she'd decided with a visit to Melanie, his widow, who she knew wouldn't be pleased with the questions she'd already decided needed to be asked. But first, a word with Ross was her priority.
“Sir, a quick word?” She stood framed by the doorway. Ross sat behind his desk, making notes on a pad.
“Go on, Izzie, what is it?”
Drake was grinning as she said, her face deadly serious,
“Well sir, I just wanted to make sure you're going to be alright going out and about in the big wide world without me there by your side,
holding your hand, so to speak.”
Thankfully, Izzie possessed good reactions, as she just managed to dodge the folded-up copy of the previous night's Echo that sailed across the office in her direction.
She was already halfway across the squad room laughing to herself as Ross's voice boomed out of his office and followed her to the door,
“I'll see you later, Sergeant Clarissa Drake…”
Chapter 26
Too Good to be True
“I don't know what you're getting at. I've already told you, Mark was just a lovely man. Ask anyone. They'll all tell you the same.”
Melanie Proctor had been surprised to see the two detectives standing on her front doorstep when she answered the ringing of the doorbell. After recovering her composure she then asked Drake if she'd come with news regarding the capture of her husband's killers. She'd then found herself being interrogated on the most intimate details of her life with Mark and was becoming more upset by the minute, but Izzie wasn't about to give up on her line of questioning.
“Melanie, I'm sorry, but I just don't believe you. You're basically asking us to believe that Mark went to work in the morning, came home in the afternoon and never went out at all, even at weekends. That's just too far-fetched for anyone to believe.”
“Well, you know, he did go out sometimes, just not very often.”
“That's better. Now we're getting somewhere. So, come on, Melanie, where did he go on these rare occasions?”
“I'm not really sure.”
Sam Gable joined in the questioning. It was time for 'good cop, bad cop' with Gable assuming the good cop role.
“Listen, please Melanie. We know you're grieving for Mark. He was your husband and you loved him, but we are trying to find out who killed him, and stop them before they do anything like this to someone else's husband. Whatever Mark may have done isn't going to hurt him now, is it?”
All Saints- Murder on the Mersey Page 23