by Liz Mistry
Not needing to be told twice, Hopkins told the officer what he’d seen in Denholme. By the time he’d reached the part where he headed towards Thornton, whilst the van seemed to head towards the country roads around Wilsden, Hardeep was interested. Very interested. It sounded as if Jez was right. It could have been the Tattoo Killer, although why, for goodness’ sake, would he target Hopkins? From all accounts, he was a bit of a Jack-the-Lad with the ladies, but Hardeep hadn’t heard rumours of anything ‘strange.’ Besides which, he was most definitely Caucasian. It didn’t make sense.
Hopkins wasn’t finished, though.
‘I made sure I kept to the main roads and drove along Thornton Road, up to Duckworth Lane and along Lilycroft Road to here. I pulled into my car park at Lister Mills and parked up. Frank, the security guard, was having a cig, so I joined him for a quick fag, and then, he went to do his rounds, and I walked over to exit the premises. I was just crossing from the parking bays to the front of the complex, behind the safety barrier, when a van screeched up, heading straight for me. I jumped onto the kerb. It braked, then did a skidding reverse back towards me. It was the same van … I’m sure of it. The bastard must have doubled back and waited for me to get home. It was the Tattoo Killer. It must’ve been. Anyway, I dived across the road and ran into here to tell you.’
‘Don’t suppose you got a good look at the bloke?’
Hopkins shook his head. ‘Too dark.’
Hardeep picked up the phone and ordered two officers to check out the Lister apartment buildings. He knew the security guard, Frank – he’d once been a copper – so, Hardeep put in a phone call to him too. He suspected, though, that whoever had put the fear of God into Jez Hopkins would be long gone by now. It was all very intriguing, and one he’d have to pass further up the chain of command.
‘Look, Jez, I’ll get officers to check it out, and they can escort you back to your flat.’
Seeing that Hopkins was shaking his head furiously, Hardeep added, ‘Or I can offer you a bed in the cells for what’s left of the night.’
When Hopkins practically bit his hand off to accept, Singh knew he should call Gus. Yet, he was reluctant to overstep the mark. The lad was clearly petrified, if he was prepared to put up with a night in the cells rather than be escorted back to his luxury apartment. Instead, he phoned up to Compo, who he knew would still be fiddling about on his PC. Let someone else make the decision to call in the boss.
Chapter 83
04:45 The Kill Site
I parked a couple of miles away. I know there’s been police activity nearby, so I walked over the fields. I know them like the back of my hand by now, and tonight, I feel the need, despite the rain, to expend some energy. I was so angry … still am. To be outdone by a half-wit … makes my blood boil. Tara seems reluctant to come to me at first, so I grab her mane and pull her close. She whinnies and tosses her head. I smile as my fingers tighten, and she complies.
‘Do you believe it, Tara? Twice in the one night he got away from me.’
I’m shaking so much, it’s difficult to hold my hand still to offer Tara her treat. Poor thing looks puzzled. I release my hold on her and run my fingers through her mane. Her calmness engulfs me … takes the edge off my rage. Tara always makes me feel better. I can always count on her. The anger begins to drain a little. I’m still angry. I can’t quite believe stupid Jez Hopkins escaped me. I’d used a burner phone and expected he’d be too eager for a scoop to suspect anything. I wonder what spooked him. Right up until the last minute, he looked as if he was on board. Then, out of nowhere, he did that spinny turn, and I had to throw the trolley back in the van and take off after him.
Probably shouldn’t have tried to get him at home. That was a mistake! Too close to the police station. ‘I nearly got him, though, Tara. Pity he was so quick on his feet. I was livid, though. Really fuming, and truth be told, Tara, it affected my judgement a tad. Which leads to the big question: what should I do now?
‘I should lie low for a while, really. Looks like Jez Hopkins has gotten a bit of a reprieve … for now, anyway. I haven’t crossed him off my list. However, for now, he is too hot.’
What went wrong? In spite of my anger, I smile as Tara’s breath warms my neck. It is simple, really. I’d veered from my plan. Instead of continuing the way I had been, I’d deviated, and it was all that dreadful journalist’s fault. Well, his and Gus McGuire’s. If Hopkins hadn’t published that despicable article, and if McGuire hadn’t said those things at the press conference, I’d have continued purifying Bradford, one by one. The police haven’t a clue. Not surprising, bearing in mind the one in charge is a half-breed. Not a hope of him cottoning on anytime soon … not with his inferior intellect. Nonetheless, he needs to be taught a lesson … and he won’t even see it coming
So, the solution is easy. I’ll move on to the next on my list and leave Jez Hopkins until the end. I’ve already studied this one for a while, and the reason I haven’t acted before is they don’t fully meet my criteria … no deviance that I can find … really family-orientated … and that will be his downfall. He’ll soon learn not to underestimate me. However, things have changed now. This target will be my coup de maître. This will really throw the cat among the pigeons. It will expose the flaws in their stupid profile; and, what’s more, it’ll be so, so easy.
I want to dance, I’m so excited. This is going to be brilliant. They’ll never expect it, not in a million years. This one is an inspired choice. A bit more exotic than my usual targets, definitely different. Enough to keep the stupid police on their toes. It would launch at them like a bolt from the blue, and Detective Inspector Gus McGuire won’t know what has hit him.
I stroke Tara’s nose one last time and whisper, ‘I won’t be seeing you for a while. It’s not safe for me here now. Too much interest in this place. I’ll need to move somewhere else, and I’ve got just the place in mind. After all, it’s just lying empty.’
Chapter 84
05:25 The Fort
Despite his lack of sleep, Gus was electrified. The attack on Jez Hopkins had given the investigation more impetus, a new direction. The big question was why. If it was the Tattoo Killer, had he changed his MO? Hopkins’ description of the trolley he’d seen being taken from the van was similar to the sort of trolley Hissing Sid had matched the dog shit track to. The van itself matched the type of vehicle they were hunting. CCTV footage from Lister Mills Apartments had captured a snap of the vehicle, which again confirmed what they already knew. However, by tracking back ANPR records combined with CCTV, it seems the killer had swapped number plates again, and Compo was working on tracking similar vans entering Denholme the previous night.
Hopkins’ statement regarding the route taken by the van indicated they’d be lucky to capture its image on the country roads, but maybe some of the bigger intersections, like The Ling Bob pub roundabout or Haworth Road might throw something up. The one thing in their favour was that traffic in those parts at that time of the night would be minimal.
He was expecting Professor Carlton to show up at any minute. The Professor had gone home late the previous evening, saying he needed to think about some things. When Gus had phoned to update him on Hopkins’ suspected run-in with the Tattoo Killer, he’d screeched down the phone, and then, after a garbled few sentences, from which Gus understood he was on his way to The Fort, he’d hung up.
Sampson had been engrossed in something for the past hour. He’d been on the phone, and then back on his computer, and then on the phone again. Gus could tell by his face he was getting somewhere, so he left him to get on with it. He only hoped whatever it was would bear fruit. Alice was taking Hopkins’ statement, despite his protests at having been asleep. Gus grinned, imagining the short shrift he’d have received from Alice, and continued to study the forensics reports that had come back from the labs. It appeared the horsehair found on Lewis Gore’s clothes wasn’t a match to either Michael Hogg or Graeme Weston’s horses, which was disappointing. However, it wa
s a match to the horse Alice had petted in the fields near the disused farmhouse opposite the Bay of Biscay. Brilliant!
He was just about to get Compo to pull anything they had on who owned both the field and the horse, when he read down and frowned. Apparently, a fragment of fabric taken from Lewis Gore’s clothes had been matched to one found amongst the hair sample from Michael Hogg’s horse.
Gus punched the air. ‘Looks like we’ve established a link between Michael Hogg’s horse and Lewis Gore. Taffy, find out everyone who has access to that horse, please, ASAP, and get uniforms to bring Hogg in for questioning. Do it now!’
Taffy scurried away, and Gus turned to Sampson, who was beaming like a Cheshire cat. ‘Take it you’ve got something, Sampson?’
‘Sure have. I’ve been going over and over the victims’ histories, looking for possible intersections. You know, places where they could all have met?’
Gus rolled his eyes. ‘Eh, yeah?’
Sampson flushed. ‘Oh, yeah, em, sorry, Gus.’
‘Just get on with it, Sampson. What have you got?’
Sampson grinned like a tame hyena. ‘Well, I went over the histories we took from each of the victims’ families and watched out for keywords like gyms and pubs and restaurant names. I got nothing.’
Wishing he’d get a move on, Gus responded in a sharp tone, ‘Sampson! Cut to the chase.’
Swallowing, Sampson looked at his screen. ‘Bottom line is, each victim, including Lewis Gore, and excepting Razaul Ul Haq, who we already think was an anomaly, had building work done, or was in the process of having building work done in the past eight months.’
Gus peered over Sampson’s shoulder. ‘Tell me they all employed the same builders or architect.’
Sampson shook his head. ‘No. I phoned them all, and they all went with different builders, and none of them shared the same architect. However,’ he paused, his face bright red with excitement, ‘a throwaway comment by Asim Farooq’s wife got me thinking, and when I checked with the others, it all added up.’
Gus was ready to strangle Sampson for going around the houses with this information, but he could tell the lad had worked hard and had really come up with something. So, with extreme difficulty, he kept quiet.
‘Mrs Farooq mentioned how they’d got a quote from Weston’s Builders in Bingley that was nearly triple the other quotes, so they didn’t go with it. It got overlooked at the start when we only had one victim. Now, with everything that’s been going on, I thought it was a bit too coincidental. Anyway, I phoned the other families, and they all told the same story. They’d all got quotes from Weston’s, and when the quotes came back, they were all exorbitant. It’s a link, isn’t it?’
Gus strode over to the whiteboards and wrote ‘Weston’s Builders’ in block capitals and drew a line from there to each of the victims. He stood back and studied it. The link was there, sure enough, however there was one massive problem. Graeme Weston had been in police custody when Jez Hopkins was attacked and had an alibi for each of the murders. Unless, of course, Hopkins was a red herring. He scowled. He’d never been convinced Weston was their man; now though, with the building quotes and the horses, there was definitely something going on there.
He turned to Compo. ‘We need to find out how our killer got Propofol. See if you can link it to Weston. Sampson, re-check every vehicle owned by the Westons and by his business. We need to tighten this up. All employees, contractors, sub-contractors, builders, tradesman … anyone who could have had access to those records.’
Before he had a chance to expand on his theories, the door crashed open, and Alice rushed in. Gus turned to beckon her over, but stopped when he saw her expression. In two strides, he was by her side leading her to a chair. ‘What’s up Alice? Are you ill?’
She shrugged him off and gripped his arm with a shaking hand, and then, her gaze found his. ‘It’s your mum, Gus … the bastard’s got your mum! Took her from right outside your parents’ house.’
For what seemed like an eternity, there was silence in the room. Gus studied Alice, trying to process what she’d just said. He’d heard her. Of course, he had. His eyes searched her pale face, hoping against hope he’d mistaken her meaning. Then, he turned and stumbled away, pushing through the door and running down the corridor. Her words ringing in his ears, he burst through the toilet door, narrowly reaching the sink before he vomited. His stomach muscles protested, as lack of food meant all that came up was a stale coffee followed by a dribble of bile.
Raising his eyes to the mirror, he saw beads of sweat dotting his forehead. The acrid stench nipped his nostrils, so he turned on the tap, and washed it away.
He scooped some of the cool liquid into his hands and splashed his face, and again and again. The water didn’t make any difference. In the distance, he could hear his name being called, then a frantic knocking on the outer door, as Alice demanded he speak to her.
Moments later, the door clattered open, and she was there beside him, wrapping her arms around his skinny frame and gripping tightly. It was only then he realised he was trembling, breath catching in his throat making him unable to speak.
She said over and over, ‘It’ll be okay, Gus, it’ll be okay.’
Extricating himself from her grip, feeling as if he was watching from a distance, he replied, his tone dull, ‘You don’t know that, Al. You just don’t know that.’
He took a deep breath to steady himself. His eyes stung. All he could think about was his gorgeous little mum. The feisty little woman. He hoped she was feisty enough for this. It wasn’t as if she hadn’t had enough hardship in her life. He remembered the last time he’d seen her. She’d been telling him and Mo off, as if they were still a pair of naughty school kids. He remembered Compo chomping through her overdone cookies, and in that instant, he made a promise to himself if he got his mum back, he would never ever disparage her lack of culinary finesse again. He’d give anything right now to be eating one of her burnt offerings.
He opened the door and turned to Alice. ‘Update Nancy. She can lead from here. I need to go to my dad. He’ll be in pieces.’
Chapter 85
07:45 Shay Farm, Shay Lane
Gus hadn’t gone straight to find his father, as he had told Alice he would. He knew Graeme Weston couldn’t be the Tattoo Killer, and he was unsure who it was. Nonetheless, the one thing he did know was there had been a match to the horsehair in the fields opposite the Bay of Biscay, and that’s where he was heading. He knew his dad would rather he was searching for his mother than comforting him at home. Besides which, Katie was better at that sort of stuff than him. She’d look after Dad. At the thought of his big cumbersome dad’s grief at having his wife abducted, Gus’ eyes welled up. Honking on the horn, he shoved the thought to the back of his mind and accelerated.
When he got to the fields, he realised he had no coat, and he didn’t care. He jumped out of the pool car and began to run over the fields. In the distance, he could see the big horse Alice had petted with its two mates in the little sheltered copse. Scanning the rest of the perimeter, he couldn’t see any other living creature. He did a quick survey of the farmhouse, and as he’d expected, it was empty. With barely a glance at the horse who had shied away as he approached, Gus continued to run to the gate at the back of the field. As he reached it, two police cars, sirens blazing, pulled up, and Alice stumbled from one.
Storming over to him, she said, ‘Did you think we couldn’t work out he might bring her here, Gus? We saw you’d written it on the board and actioned officers to come here. Look, Nancy and I have got this. You need to go to your dad. He needs you. We’ll leave a couple of officers here, just in case. I think it’s unlikely now. Compo’s on it.’
She placed her hand on his forearm and pulled him around so he was facing the bottom of the field. Giving him a gentle push, she said, ‘Go. Go to your dad, and if you can’t help yourself, give Sid, who is working the crime site at your parent’s house, grief to find something, yeah?’
Realising how cold he was, and that the light drizzle had begun to soak though his jumper, he shivered. Alice was right. There was nothing he could do here. Maybe Sid would find something from the abduction site. Besides, it wouldn’t hurt to see it for himself. ‘Okay, Al. Okay, I’m off.’
Chapter 86
07:55 The New Kill Site
Unconscious, she appears smaller than she did when she was bustling around that farmyard with those yelping dogs and that big bumbling husband of hers. She was so full of herself. Proud she’d snared such an intelligent husband. Not so damn intelligent, if you ask me. If he is half as bright as he thinks he is, he’d have stuck to his own kind instead of diluting his genes with a half-caste … breeding impurity into the world. Bad enough that she’s given him half-breed children, one of them is a dirty dyke as well. Scum of the earth, that’s what she is, despite her big house and her airs and graces.
I send a kick onto her stomach. I’m not looking forward to this bit, not like with the others. There is something a bit off about tattooing a woman … needs must. Those are the rules, and no half-caste nigger is going to stop me. The only problem is, I can’t do it right now. My new site isn’t quite as remote as the other, so I’d better wait until later when there will be no-one in earshot. Maybe about half ten or so, just to be sure. Mind you, I could get the preparations underway right now.
Getting to work, I take out my flick knife and begin to cut her clothes off her body. This part I always find quite distasteful, although it has to be done. Her walking boots take a bit of pulling, but I manage in the end. She’d been out with those horrible dogs when I’d gotten to her. Our Corrine McGuire is a woman of habit, it seems. Every morning, at around 6:30, she’d set off with her two dogs, and often, she’d have that other dog with her too. It was easy for me to time it. I knew her husband would be in the kitchen at the back of the house. He’s always there in the morning.