The Girl Must Die: A Suspense Thriller With a Supernatural Twist

by Peter Repton

  ‘I can’t believe it Manchester United struggled against Sunderland, the match finished a draw. We dominated the game at West Ham, but we conceded a corner late into stoppage time. The clock showed three minutes of time added. The whistle should have gone before they put the ball out for the corner. But, the damn ref lets them take it, our keeper fumbled the ball. Then they scored. We got bloody robbed,’ Paul moaned. They all met up with Barrie Smith in the staff canteen first. Smith was smoking as usual, and a pile of old cigarette butts filled the ashtray in front of him.

  On Ford's instructions, Robert's had set up some recording equipment at Lincoln Police Station, to avoid ferrying the prisoner back and forth to Scunthorpe Police Station every day. Robert's was not permitted to stay in the room, and told to go next door. But he could see and hear all that was going on through a secure viewing portal in the next room. Six chairs were in the interview room, one each for Ford and Doctor Smith. The other two were for the same pair of correctional officers from the previous day.

  They escorted Kempston into the interview room and now sat either side of him, waiting for the sixth man his appointed solicitor Mark Wainwright to join them. When he arrived after initial greetings, Jack started things off by asking in a hard voice.

  ‘Prisoner will you state your name and date of birth for the record,’ David drew a deep breath and said.

  ‘My name is Doctor David Kempston, and my date of birth is on the 14th February ….’ Ford immediately interrupted.

  ‘Valentine's day, you have got to be joking?’

  ‘No, I am not that is my birthday,’ David replied.

  ‘Prisoner you are charged with the murder of three women. Nurse Kerry Harrison, your wife Sarah Kempston and guest house receptionist Laura Hartley. Even though you did not enter a plea in court, I will prove you are guilty of these crimes. But what is most pressing now is the whereabouts of the missing young waitress, Lucy Higgins. Where is she Kempston?’

  David noticed Ford had stopped addressing him as prisoner now that he wanted something from him. He could clearly see Roberts through the window in the adjoining room.

  ‘I know nothing of her whereabouts. The last time I saw her she was riding on the back of Sammy's motorcycle,’ David hissed as if the mere thought of Sammy inflamed him. Jack was about to speak again when Barrie Smith raised his hand and stopped him.

  ‘David,’ Smith said using the prisoner’s first name and using a much more mellow tone.

  ‘Tell me about Sammy, please who is he?’

  David said nothing for about ten seconds and then tears rolled down his cheeks. Ford, impatient now was about to get angry and jump in again when David spoke.

  ‘He killed my Sarah.’ Doctor Smith motioned for him to go on and asked him.

  ‘So when did you first come into contact with this Sammy fellow David?’ David though for a second or two before replying.

  ‘I first saw him outside the boarding house in Cleethorpes. He was outside on a big motorbike; I saw him through the window, he looked up at me and grinned.’

  Smith said immediately.

  ‘Would that be the same place you also first saw young Lucy Higgins the waitress David?’

  ‘Yes it was, she was fixing an outside light and appeared to be flirting a bit with Sammy,’ David recalled.

  ‘Then when was the next time you saw this fellow Sammy David, do you remember?’ Smith pushed.

  ‘It was at the restaurant. I remember Sammy came right up to me and threatened me; it shocked me as I did not know him. But he knew who I was.’

  ‘What makes you think that David,’ Smith was now in his element. The prisoner was opening up.

  ‘He approached me and laughed and said how frail and skinny he thought I was. That I would be no match for him now that the game was on,’ David fell silent again.

  ‘What game David, what game?’ It was no use as David's eyes had glazed over, and he was non-responsive.

  Doctor Smith persisted.

  ‘David ... David did he say anything else,’ a slight flicker in David's eyes.

  ‘Yes he did... he said he was going to kill someone that I love,’ the light in David's eyes dimmed, he was slipping back into a trance again. When it became clear, they would get no more from him today, Doctor Smith motioned for the two correctional officers to take Kempston away. Roberts came into the interview room as Doctor Smith slowly stood up, lighting another cigarette. Smith then said,

  ‘I think I may have the answer to this one Jack,’ and Ford raised his eyebrows in response. The four men were sitting together in a smoke filled room drinking strong coffee when the psychiatrist started to deliver his analysis.

  ‘I think what we may have here is dissociative identity disorder or DID for short,’ Smith paused for a few moments as all eyes focused on him.

  ‘In the past we used to call it multiple personality disorder. The subject appears to have distinct separate personalities that manifest on a random basis. The subject has no control over it at all and …’

  ‘Just a fucking minute,’ Ford said, his bright blue eyes flashing with anger.

  ‘You say this murdering bastard Kempston is a Jekyll and Hyde split personality. But he can’t help being it?’

  Smith replied.

  ‘Jack that is an excellent comparison, yes, I am suggesting that Doctor David Kempston in that state has absolutely no idea what he is doing. When his alter ego manifests on these occasions, he refers to his Master Hyde as Sammy.’

  ‘That’s a load of bollocks, and I am not buying it, Barry. This guy is not getting off on an insanity plea, he’s going down for murder,’ Ford yelled jumping to his feet. His face flushed dark against the contrast of his tan and white hair. Roberts flinched at Ford's outburst, recalling his own bollocking for using foul language just a few days before. It now seemed his boss was losing control due to too much stress and not enough whisky.

  ‘Calm down Jack. Jekyll and Hyde is a good example of dissociative identity disorder. But there have been many well-documented incidents over the last century. I remember one of them quite well…’ Smith paused, taking a long drag on his cigarette. Then he rolled his eyes up and to the left trying to remember the subject’s name.

  ‘There was a young hotel maid in Florida back in the seventies. She was in her twenties and got arrested. The police had found her wandering around the streets with blood all over her clothes and shoes. She had no idea how it got there,’ he took another long drag on the cigarette and a flick of ash into the ashtray on the desk before him.

  ‘It transpired an elderly lady got battered to death. It happened in the same hotel that this young woman worked in as a maid. But the maid had absolutely no recollection of the event.’

  ‘So what happened to her,’ Roberts asked.

  ‘She went to trial as the forensics linked her to the crime. On her defence team was her social worker who managed after a time to draw out her alter ego, a woman called Wanda. This second personality became very aggressive and started swearing and shouting abuse on the stand. The court was surprised when this soft-spoken maid transformed into a mean, aggressive bitch, right in front of their eyes. When the prosecution on cross-examination questioned her, Wanda bragged openly about how she had bitten and choked the old woman before beating her to death with a table lamp.’

  ‘Bloody hell,’ Roberts said, ‘What happened to her?’ he added.

  ‘She pleaded guilty due to dissociative identity disorder. The judge committed her to a mental institution. There they filled her up with drugs for the next five or six years before releasing her. But soon after the drugs wore off, her alternative personality, Wanda reappeared once more. She got arrested this time for going out and robbing two banks.’

  ‘Bloody hell,’ Roberts said again.

  ‘So when he said it was not him but Sammy who killed the women he is telling the truth then?’ Ford asked Barrie Smith.

  ‘Technically it would appear so,’ Smith agreed.

  �
�His defence barrister will try to make a case for it.’

  ‘Do you think you could draw him out, Barrie? Like you said this hotel maid’s social worker did. We need to get out all the details from him to build a case against him whatever his mental state may be. We still need to prosecute him, can you make Sammy appear?’ Ford pleaded. Smith replied.

  ‘I am not sure, but we can try tomorrow, let’s all get some rest.’ They all filed out of the incident room, but Roberts remained for some time. He did not think the eminent forensic phycologist was right. Smith had earlier referred to Kempston as a potential visionary messianic maniac. He was now suggesting something altogether different with his multiple personality theory. Roberts scratched his ginger hair and starting pulling on his sticky out ear as he mused over the last couple of days. It was still possible that Kempston was telling the truth and he intended to give him the benefit of the doubt. Paul decided to head over to the prison hospital for another look at Kempston. He showed the prison officer outside the prison hospital ward his ID. The guard let him into the small six-bed prison ward. He could see that Kempston was the sole occupier and appeared to be asleep on the other side of the ward. There were only three beds on each side. Kempston was lying on his side with his knees drawn up to his chest and his eyes shut. He still looked surprising frail and vulnerable. Kempston woke up to the sound of Robert’s metal heels clicking on the polished light green tiles. In the confined spaces of the small prison ward he straightened up and sat on the edge of the bed. The young policeman approached him.

  ‘You were at my house that night when your Sergeant chased me into the woods,’ David said. Roberts replied.

  ‘Yes I was, and he was as mad as hell that he didn’t catch you. His name is Andrew Wilson, and I think he got his revenge in part by looking at those bruises you have.’ David managed a weak smile.

  ‘That’s nothing to the pain I feel I can assure you,’ he said. Then after a brief silence, he added, ‘I cannot believe all this is happening to me. I had such a great life, a beautiful wife and now it has all gone, I didn’t do it you know.’

  Roberts gazed at him with bright turquoise eyes, and scratching his freckled nose he said.

  ‘You know I am inclined to believe you. But we are planning a full interrogation in the morning, and your situation does not look good. You are present at every crime scene, and it cannot all be circumstantial. This Sammy business is all you have got as an excuse then?’ Roberts asked raising his eyebrows. David scowled and his attitude immediately hardened at the mere mention of Sammy’s name. He knotted his eyebrows, and his pale green eyes appeared to glow with rage as he said through tightly pursed lips.

  ‘It is not an excuse. Sammy exists alright. It is odd that I like all doctors took the Hippocratic Oath to save a life. But after what he did to my wife I will break that vow, and I will kill him,’ speaking the last two words with menace.

  ‘Well best of luck with that then mate,’ Roberts said and then added.

  ‘I really wish I could help, but I think you’re fucked.’

  ‘Do you mean that…that you want to help, is it not your job to do exactly the opposite?’ David sounded almost hopeful.

  ‘Well, I reckon I did my job. I am supposed to catch criminals, and that is what we as a team have done. The rest is up to the lawyers and prosecutors to determine whether you are off your rocker or not,’ and then after just a moment’s reflection, he said.

  ‘Why do you ask?’

  ‘You will be recording the interrogation tomorrow won’t you?’ David asked.

  ‘Of course everything is for the record. Video recordings are much quicker than writing hundreds of statements down,’ Roberts replied his curiosity now aroused. David thought for a full minute and then asked him.

  ‘Do you think you could get a copy of the recording? Send it to a man called Bob Staples in the U.S.A his contact details are on my laptop? I don’t wish for you to get into any trouble but if they record my statement I can include some information for him in it. I promise it will not compromise you.’

  ‘I cannot promise you anything but let’s see what the morning brings. If I think your statement has merit I may consider doing as you ask as their is still one thing that really bothers me about this case. We have not yet recovered the knife that was used to decapitate your wife and you did not run away. So where is it? Anyway, best to get some sleep David as tomorrow will be a long day,’ Roberts looked unsure as he said it and then turned on his heels and walked away. David lay back down on his hard hospital prison bunk and as he drifted back off to sleep he thought.

  ‘The last person that called me David was my lovely Sarah,’ and tears formed in his eyes.

  42

  On Friday David woke up to a bright sunny morning. A correctional officer brought him a hot cooked breakfast of bacon and eggs. David jumped to his feet as he suddenly realised he could remember how this whole thing had started a few weeks before. Now he could recall some of the missing time as well. Just as soon as he put a few missing pieces into place, it all started flooding back to him. He was sitting stock still with his eyes wide open with wonder when the door opened. Jack Ford and Barrie Smith walked in with the same two guards as before.

  ‘Time to go Kempston, I hope you bloody well have something more for us today,’ Jack Ford growled.

  ‘Yes,’ David replied, ‘I think I have… but you are not going to believe it,’ he added.

  Roberts set up recording equipment with the permission of the local force. He said a cheery good morning to Ford and Smith as they walked in. Kempston came in sandwiched between the two correctional officers. David looked at Roberts who just met his gaze and nodded, but his eyes gave nothing away as he said to Ford.

  ‘Everything is set Sir I will leave you to it.’ Ford just grunted his approval and turned to greet Wilson and said.

  ‘I think Doctor Smith and I will conduct this interview Andrew, you should best go and check if there is any news about Lucy Higgins. Here take this, we at last have a decent photograph of her,’ Ford handed over to Wilson a large full colour photograph and Wilson’s jaw dropped wide open.

  Wilson just gaped at the photo of the young redhead in his hands.

  ‘What on earth is the matter man?’ Ford asked with a noticeable amount of concern in his voice.

  ‘You have gone as white as a sheet… have you seen a bloody ghost or what?’

  ‘She…she looks just like my wife…’ Andrew said in a faraway voice.

  ‘What bloody wife?’ Ford asked, confused.

  ‘I will tell you later,’ Wilson groaned and left the room to the stunned silence of all of the occupants.

  Mark Wainwright arrived late again at the interview room soon afterwards. Wainwright was appointed as a solicitor in the absence of Kempston requesting one. Wainwright was a tall, grey-haired willowy anonymous sort of a man who wore an ill-fitting dark blue suit and thick black glasses. He carried a large briefcase and sat beside David once again as the interview commenced.

  ‘David Kempston you face three charges of murder and one of kidnap,’ Ford said. ‘Charge one on Thursday the fifth of May relates to a young Scunthorpe Nurse Kerry Harrison. We allege that you murdered her and left her decapitated remains on the waste ground.’

  Ford paused for effect for a few seconds.

  ‘Charge two. You kidnapped waitress Lucy Higgins after you ate in the restaurant she worked in exactly a week ago today. That was the last time anyone saw Lucy on the evening of Friday the Thirteenth, and don’t think for a moment the bloody irony of that date escapes me. Her exact whereabouts still remain unknown. You told us you first saw her at the guesthouse where she worked as a cook.

  Charge three. On Saturday the Fourteenth you murdered receptionist Laura Hartley. You left her decapitated head down a toilet in a Cleethorpes guesthouse,’ Ford appeared to get infuriated and raised his voice to almost a shout as he read out the next charge.

  ‘Charge four. You lured your wife to a deser
ted boatyard after midnight in the early hours of Sunday the sixteenth of May. In it, you murdered her and decapitated her body. You sick bastard Kempston,’ Ford screamed.

  David’s head was on his chest; he was silently weeping. When he lifted up his tear stained face, there was clear pain in his pale green eyes for all to see.

  ‘I have done nothing,’ David said, ‘But I remembered last night just what happened to me on Thursday the eighth of May, the same day you say that both Nurse Kerry and I went missing,’ David took a deep breath as everyone looked at him and then he told them his story.

  On the Thursday evening before the police officers put surveillance on his home and before all his current troubles had started, David left his house as soon as Coronation Street came on at seven-thirty. David could not tolerate the pathetic soap operas story lines, as everyone in it seemed to be angry, miserable or a criminal. So he left to fill up his car with fuel for the next day’s meeting. He usually did this so he did not have to queue at the filling station first thing in the morning, during the rush hour.

  Reversing his sleek silver Mercedes saloon out of the double garage, David looked over to the East noticing the full moon rising above the escarpment. Ever since he was a small child, the moon had fascinated David.

  When the moon was full and bright, as it was tonight, it always gave him an inner feeling of elation. During the few days every month when the beautiful bright celestial body was not visible at all, David always felt a little under par and depressed. This mild depression was relieved at the first glimpse of the slender crescent of a new moon that always first appeared low in the sky over to the West.

  It pleased David to see the huge moon rising above the trees. When it was like this the earth's atmosphere acted like a magnifying glass. It made the moon appear much closer and larger. He decided when he had filled up the car; he would drive up to the crest of the escarpment, to get a better view of the moon as darkness was now falling. Sarah was used to David’s fascination with the moon, and would often go with him. Few customers were at the filling station. David filled up his car and exchanged pleasantries with the staff who knew him quite well.