The short journey passed without incident, and after shutting the garage door, he entered the property from the rear. He’d met these two after a series of letters; they used to take turns writing to him. Cons were always attracting nutters as pen pals, especially lifers it always seemed, usually from the opposite sex, but not exclusively, as this case proved. This had progressed to visits, and when he heard he was being shipped out, he’d asked them for help. He couldn’t remember their names, he’d always steered any conversations, either oral or written, towards a context where he wouldn’t have to use them. Nutter One and Two, he thought of them as. And to think that those supposed experts had the audacity to judge him the mad one.
“It’s only me, lads,” Moxley shouted as he closed the kitchen door behind him.
“Either of you want a brew?” he called out. Might as well start things off pleasant. He waited but received no reply.
“Okay then, you won’t mind if I make myself one,” he shouted, before filling the electric kettle. After making a mug of tea, he wandered into the lounge where Nutter One and Two were sat on the settee facing the television. Neither looked up as he approached, must be engrossed, he thought.
Moxley sat down in an armchair that was at a right angle to the sofa, both of which had seen better days, both threadbare with stuffing pointing through on the armrests. He noticed that even though it was only early afternoon, the thin unlined curtains were closed. Good men, it kept nosy bastards from looking in, yet still let quite a lot of light through.
“I’ve put the motor in the lockup and I was wondering if you’d take that as payment for helping me?” Moxley said. “I know I promised you ten grand between you, but cash is a bit of a problem at the moment. I mean I will have some cash soon, but I thought you might prefer the motor in lieu of cash. It’s only a year old and well worth more than ten grand. I’m a bit out of touch with what cars fetch nowadays, but it’s got to be more than that, it’s a BMW after all.”
He waited for a response, but none was forthcoming. Neither man reacted; they seemed to still be watching the television. He pressed on, “All you’d have to do is give it a ghost plate and you could keep it for yourselves, or you could flog it. I can tell you where to take it where you’d get a good price.”
Still no answer. Then, he remembered that they couldn’t answer him. They had gaffer tape stuck over their mouths. “Silly me, I forgot that I’d taped your mouths shut.”
But thought they would at least have looked up when he came in, after all, he had promised to release them from the tape over their mouths, and from around their arms and ankles. He’d just had to take precautions while he was out. It wasn’t as if he didn’t trust them, he just didn’t know them that well and his escape had already been all over the telly. In fact, when he’d arrived back just now, he thought they were probably watching further news updates from the ones they had all seen earlier. Then he remembered that he’d turned the television off before he’d left.
They were staring at an empty screen. Then he remembered they couldn’t see.
“As you can’t see any more, I guess you won’t want the car after all,” he added, as he walked across to the front of the sofa, turning to face them as he spoke.
He always thought them an odd couple, both in their fifties, both too full of junk food, and both easily forgettable. In fact, he couldn’t remember which one was Nutter One and which was Nutter Two.
Okay, so they can’t see and they can’t speak. But they could have turned their heads in his direction when he entered the house; especially as he was offering them a brew. That was just plain bad manners. He’d have to punish them for that.
“I don’t like your lack of respect, but as you’ve helped me so much, I’ll let you both off with a slap,” he said, feeling a warm glow at his own leniency.
He leaned forward, and slapped each on the opposite cheek, hard, with each hand at the same time.
He stood back and watched their heads fall to the floor with a surprisingly loud bang. Then he remembered that they were both dead. He’d slit their throats from behind after he’d trussed them up. Then sawed their heads off with the kitchen knife, he’d only put them back on so they could watch the telly.
Chapter Nine
Vinnie lagged behind Rob as they walked back to his Volvo; he was texting his wife Lesley again, ‘Let’s talk tonight? Let’s be friends too x’. He wasn’t one for long text messages; it took him to the car to write it. Maybe she’d reply to this one.
They arrived at the motor, which he was grateful to find undamaged, when his phone rang, Lesley? No, looking at the screen it read ‘Harry Delany’, the SIO. He waited until he was in the car before he took the call. “Hi boss, we are just leaving Jimmy the Jemmy’s gaff. He’s given us a few lines to work on. I was going to get straight on to them and have them actioned to us later, if that’s okay?” Vinnie hated the bureaucracy on major incidents. Strictly speaking he should have the action to see Jimmy written up and fed into the system, only for the new lines of enquiry to be issued to him as new actions. He knew this way nothing would be missed, which was why the system had been brought into being after the Yorkshire Ripper murders of the late seventies – to ensure no potential suspect was overlooked, as had been the case with Peter Sutcliffe. Though to be fair, in those days everything was recorded on paper.
“Not a problem with that Vinnie, as long as the system is updated by the end of the day, but I’m ringing you about something else. An SIO action; direct to you.”
“Go on, boss.”
“There’s a house fire ongoing not far from where you are now, and the interesting thing is the place is rented out to two men, James Foster and Brian Gregg.”
“Relevance to our enquiry?”
“They’re relevant all right. They were regular visitors to Moxley when he was in Strangeways. In fact, they were his only visitors.”
Delany gave Vinnie the address, who told him they were five minutes away, before ending the call. Vinnie briefed Rob as he drove, who seemed more interested in his phone, “Rob,” he shouted.
“Sorry, boss,” Rob said, putting his phone away.
They pulled into the narrow terrace street but were obstructed from reaching the end by a police car and two fire appliances. Vinnie could see an end-terrace was ablaze, next to some waste ground.
He showed a uniform cop his warrant card and asked who was in charge. The cop pointed out a firefighter wearing a white helmet with lines painted around it. He walked over with Rob behind and identified himself to the senior fire officer. “How’s it going?”
“Hi, I’m John, yeah it’s certainly well alight, but we should have it under control soon. I’ve asked your mob to evacuate the adjoining house, but I’m confident my lads and lasses will be able to stop it spreading.”
Vinnie looked around as John spoke and could see a middle-aged couple standing outside next door, but behind the police tape, looking suitably fearful.
“Anyone inside?”
“Not 100 per cent sure …” John started to say, as he broke off to watch two firefighters approach who had just left the house by the front door. Both were wearing breathing apparatus. The shorter of the two was the first to get her mask off, and spoke as her colleague caught up. “Confirming all clear, boss.”
“Thanks Julie, any idea as to where the fire started?” John asked, as Vinnie saw the same question in his mind. He had to turn his back to the fire for a moment, for a brief respite, as he awaited Julie’s answer. Although, they were stood twenty-five feet away, the intense heat was becoming unbearable on his face. He asked Rob to go and speak to the neighbours and then turned back as Julie replied.
“Front room; the seat seems fiercest around an old sofa, can’t say about accelerants yet, there is an electric fire and TV in front of it. Either could be a source.”
John thanked Julie and asked her colleague if he had anything to add, which he said he didn’t. “When it’s out I’ll have a proper look and
if it’s suspicious, I’ll get control to give you a shout.”
Vinnie thanked the fire chief and turned to see Rob approach, who told him the neighbours didn’t know Foster or Gregg; they didn’t even know their first names. Just described them as a couple of jobless alkies. “But they had seen a BMW using the garage over the last day or so, which they thought strange.”
Strange indeed, not least as Tim Knowles’s car was a BMW, which was still unaccounted for.
Five minutes later, Vinnie stood next to Rob looking into an empty lock-up that had been opened with the help of one of John’s men and a crowbar. He noticed damp patches on the concrete floor roughly where a car’s tyres would have been. “There’s obviously been a motor in here, and recently,” Vinnie said.
“And a BMW,” Rob said. The connection re the make obviously not lost on him.
“Any idea about the reg number from the neighbours?”
“Sorry, boss. They just said it looked new, was a dark colour, and a small one.”
“Like a One series?”
“I suppose.”
Vinnie wasn’t sure why Moxley and his little helpers felt the need to total the house. There were no bodies inside, so he assumed Foster and Gregg were with Moxley, all acting together. But why were a couple of losers like them helping a psycho like Moxley? It was obviously them who had freed him from the taxi in the first place. Too many questions and not enough answers. Perhaps, the fire was an unrelated accident? The only trouble was Vinnie didn’t believe in fairies or coincidences.
He turned to face Rob as they walked away from the garage, “Come on, I think we’d better go and check on Bill Johnson.” Rob didn’t reply but they both broke out into a run.
Ten minutes later, Vinnie and Rob walked into the reception of the large hotel where they had deposited Bill Johnson the previous night. It was after midday, so he should be up. Vinnie followed Rob to the third floor and room 303, overlooking the front aspect of the building. Rob had the spare key card in his pocket, but knocked first. No reply.
Vinnie checked his watch, it was gone twelve. Too late for breakfast and probably too early for lunch. Notwithstanding that he’d been told to use room service, Bill had struck Vinnie as potentially difficult from the start, so it wouldn’t surprise him if he’d ignored that instruction. He looked down, no dirty dishes on the floor. As if reading him, Rob spoke.
“I noticed the maid in the room by the lift, with towels outside in the corridor. She’s not reached this far yet.”
Vinnie nodded at the plastic key card in Rob’s hand and he used it on the door. Shouting as he opened it, “Bill, It’s only me, Rob.”
No reply, as they made their way in and the door swung shut. It was a standard room with a hallway from the door passing the bathroom and leading to a larger space containing the double bed. It was clear that the bed had been slept in, but was empty. Rob checked the bathroom. He reappeared, shaking his head, “The shower curtain is quite wet; he’s not been gone long.”
Vinnie heard a card entering the slot on the door, it clicked and opened followed by Bill carrying a newspaper. “Jesus Christ ...” he started.
“Sorry,” said Rob.
Apparently, he’d only been to reception to buy a paper, so no harm done. Vinnie, tried to play things down as he didn’t want to overly worry Bill. Though he had to stress to him the importance of remaining incommunicado; as long as no one but they knew where he was, he was safe.
“I can’t stay here forever though,” Bill said.
“I know, it’ll only be for a couple of days,” Vinnie said.
“And what if you and Boy Wonder here haven’t found Moxley by then?”
“Then we’ll have to find somewhere more permanent. We are trying our best, so cut the cracks,” Vinnie said, trying not to show too much annoyance.
Johnson said he was sorry, just under a bit of pressure. Vinnie let it slide. Then told him they’d check in with him via his hotel room phone between five and seven later on. At least they could keep him grounded this way.
Five minutes later they left Bob Johnson reading his paper with the TV on.
“Where now, boss?” Rob asked as they exited the lift on to the ground floor.
“Let’s grab a quick sarnie while we check in with the incident room, and then get around those names and addresses Jimmy gave us.”
Chapter Ten
Bill Johnson knew he wasn’t the strongest of men, physically or mentally. He could be full of false bravado, as when talking to those detectives earlier, or when he hid behind his prison uniform or status, but that was it. He had only joined the prison service to show off to others, and pretend to be what he was not. He knew his bluster worked on some people, most of the fellow officers he was sure; but not the cons.
They were a feral breed apart. What most of them lacked in the way of formal education, they made up for in ‘street’ and ‘earthly-wise’. Daniel Moxley was a leader in such arts. He’d made Johnson for what he was straight away and used to tease and goad him at every opportunity. Johnson was thrilled when he heard that the mental health professionals had assessed Moxley as a nutter, and that he was to be shipped out. He knew he would be severely reprimanded if he was heard using the term nutter; but that was what Moxley was. It made sense of all his behavioural problems.
He still wasn’t sure why the two accomplices, who released Moxley after attacking the taxi, took Tim. Initially, he assumed Moxley picked Tim for insurance, while he got away, as they pretty much got on. But all that rationale went out the door when Tim’s head turned up in his bathroom. It was doing his head in, no pun intended, just sat in this hotel room with nothing to do but mull over everything. The sooner Moxley was back behind bars, the better. He’d just have to sit things out. The coppers were being pretty good with him he had to admit, though he wasn’t sure what their reactions would be if they knew the whole story.
He shrugged the thoughts out of his head and replaced them with afternoon telly. As soon as Moxley was caught he could relax. After all, it didn’t matter what he said, who would listen to the ravings of a psychopathic killer.
*
By the end of the day, Vinnie Palmer was getting tired. He and Rob had nearly exhausted the list of possible contacts that Jimmy had given them. They were half-way through his second list, the one entitled, ‘Total Guesses’.
Rob had checked all the names and addresses with the intelligence unit over lunch, while he spoke to Harry Delany the SIO. Nothing too noteworthy had jumped out. They spent the afternoon chasing dead ends. After which, Rob had rung Johnson at just before seven o’clock and reported that he was safely tucked up in his hotel room. He’d told him they’d see him the following day, by which time Vinnie hoped the forensics team should have finished with Bill’s flat. Not that it was safe to let him go back there, but they would have to escort him there so he could get some clean clothes and check on his neighbour who had his cat.
It was now half-seven and time to let Rob go. It sounded as if he was meeting his girlfriend later and wanted time to sort himself out. Plus he couldn’t delay going home any longer, it was unfair on Rob and he needed to try to have a conversation with Lesley. She’d still not answered any of his texts, so things didn’t bode well. He said goodnight to Rob outside the nick, and said he’d see him at eight next morning unless there were any unforeseen developments before then.
Traffic on the M60, Manchester’s orbital motorway, was easing and it only took thirty minutes to drive to his semi in Stretford. As he eased his car into the double-drive, he noticed Lesley’s Mini was still parked on the road.
He’d met Lesley at a previous nick he’d worked in five years ago and she still worked in HR there. They had married six months later, which was probably a mistake. Once the gloss had worn off, he realised that they were quite different; ‘always married to the job first’ was one of her mantras. Vinnie had shrugged it off as a common saying for any detective’s wife, though he’d hoped she’d be different; afte
r all she worked for the same firm and knew how things were.
As he entered the hallway, he shouted ahead, “I come in peace.” Hearing noises in the kitchen he headed there. “I said, ‘I come in peace’,” he repeated, as he entered the room.
Lesley was by the sink rinsing a mug, wearing a pair of close-fitting jeans with a spangled top that highlighted her fair hair. He still fancied her rotten, he still loved her madly.
“I heard what you said, Vinnie, and contrary to what you probably believe; I don’t want to fight either.”
“Well, I know we can rub each other the wrong way, sometimes, but can’t we just try a bit harder? Get back a little of what we had?” he pleaded.
“Sometimes? Don’t you mean all the time. And the reason is because we are different people with different interests and needs. It just took me a whole load of denial and a few years to realise it.”
The words stung. But they shouldn’t; it was as if he hadn’t heard them before. “So what exactly are you saying?”
“I don’t know for sure, but let’s just not have this conversation now. Let’s get dinner out of the way first.”
Vinnie opened his mouth to reply, then thought better of it, and closed it silently. Lesley had already left the room, so he went to the fridge for a beer.
An hour later, they had eaten in silence and Vinnie had finished washing the pots. Lesley had been upstairs for thirty or so minutes before he heard her coming back down. She’d changed into a thin white blouse and brown leather skirt. His heart sank. “I thought we were going to talk after we’d eaten?”
“Not tonight, it’ll only end up in another row, and I’ve got to go out.”
“You’d planned to do a runner all along, hadn’t you? As soon as I’d texted you to say I’d be home at a normal time.”
“See, you’re starting already, but as a matter of fact you’re wrong,” Lesley replied. “I’d every intention of sitting down with you after we’d eaten, until Sandy texted. She needs me, she’s having problems.”
The Badge & the Pen Thrillers Page 4