The Murder Diaries_Seven Times Over

by David Carter

  ‘So,’ said Walter, ‘you saw something at Mostyn station.’

  ‘Yep,’ she said, smiling and bobbing her head.

  ‘Tell us what you saw,’ said Karen.

  Chloe glanced at Karen. She didn’t really want to talk to the WPC; it was Walter she liked talking to.

  ‘Well, I saw him do it, didn’t I.’

  ‘Him?’ said Karen.

  ‘Yeah, course; it was a man... wasn’t it? Now you come to mention it, I’m not so sure it was.’

  ‘Tell us exactly what you saw,’ said Walter, ‘start at the beginning.’

  The girl nodded again and took a deep breath.

  ‘We were coming out of the Mobri.’

  ‘The Mobri?’ said Karen.

  ‘Yeah, the old Mostyn Brick Company; it’s derelict now, disused, lots of the kids use it, it’s a safe place to go, quiet like.’

  ‘Who’s we?’ asked Walter.

  ‘Me and Lee, my boyfriend.’

  ‘What time was this?’

  ‘I dunno, don’t have a watch, probably about three, something like that, he gets off early see, starts early, finishes early.’

  She spoke in that strange North Wales coastal accent, short clipped flat words, hurriedly delivered, occasionally quite difficult to comprehend to the English ear, inner city Welsh, as Walter described it.

  ‘What were you doing there?’ asked Walter.

  Chloe’s eyes widened, panic style, she pulled a face. ‘Do I have to say? What do ya think? I don’t want to get Lee into trouble or anything.’

  ‘Why were you sagging off school?’ asked Karen.

  ‘To see Lee of course, ’cos I can’t see him at night, can I.’

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘Didn’t they tell you anything about me?’

  ‘Why not, Chloe?’ persisted Walter.

  She extended her bottom lip, shook her head, didn’t say anything.

  ‘Because he’s tagged,’ said the mother. ‘He has to be in the house by seven.’

  ‘Why’s he tagged?’ asked Karen.

  Chloe shook her head. ‘I dunno.’

  ‘Burglary,’ said the mother.

  ‘He’s not a burglar!’ insisted Chloe.

  ‘He was caught ransacking the bedroom drawers in the vicarage,’ said the mother, becoming exasperated, dying for a fag.

  ‘So tell us, after you and Lee came out of the brick works, what happened then?’

  ‘We was walking along the road up toward the station. I could see the platform through the railings, and the two guys, well I think they were guys, standing on the station. One was a big guy, really tall, in a suit, businessman type thing, the other one was much shorter, and he was standing behind the big one. Some way off to begin with, but as the train came in, he kind of crept up behind the tall guy. I thought they might have been mates like, you know, and then I saw the little one reach up and push the big one in the middle of the back, just a gentle little shove, and over he went, off the platform, in front of the big train that was thundering through, not stopping like.’

  ‘And you are certain the little guy pushed the big guy off the platform?’ asked Karen.

  ‘Course I am, just said so, didn’t I.’

  ‘What happened next?’ asked Walter.

  ‘Nothing really, I was just so gobsmacked, I said to Lee, did you see that? That little guy pushed the big guy under the train.’

  ‘He was too busy trying to neck me, you know, he still had his arm round me, he was trying to give me a big thank you kiss, you know how it is,’ she said, addressing Karen, knowing she would understand.

  ‘What happened then?’ asked Walter.

  ‘Lee said to me, “What small bloke?” And when we looked back he’d vamoosed, the titchy fella, gone right down the platform and out the station.’

  ‘Did you see him again?’ asked Karen.

  ‘Nope.’

  ‘Did you see him drive away?’ asked Walter.

  ‘Nope, though now you mention it a nice car came by, dark and shiny, I didn’t see who was inside, I think the sun must have been shining on the windows, it could have been him.’

  ‘What sort of car was it?’

  ‘Oh I dunno, I’m not very good with cars, maybe Japanese, hatchback perhaps, yeah, I think it was probably a Japaneser.’

  There was a short silence and then Walter said, ‘I want you to think very hard. Please describe the man to us.’

  ‘The titch?’

  ‘Yeah.’

  ‘Well, as I said he was small, he was wearing jeans I noticed that, really tight blue jeans, designer ones I’d say, they fit him like a dream, he had a nice bum I can tell you that, and a sweatshirt, grey I think it was, and a blue baseball cap, but it looked too big for him, kind of pulled down over his face.’

  ‘Anything else?’ said Walter.

  ‘Yeah, he had expensive trainers, designer ones, German I think, new, blue and white, those with the three white lines down the side.’

  ‘Adidas,’ suggested Karen.

  ‘Yeah,’ smiled the girl. ‘That’s the one.’

  ‘What else?’ asked Walter.

  ‘That’s about it really.’

  ‘Was he a white man?’

  ‘Oh yeah, definitely.’

  ‘Hundred percent certain?’

  ‘Deffo.’

  ‘Would you recognise him if you saw him again?’

  She shook her head slowly. ‘I don’t think so; it all happened so quick; I didn’t really see that much, and not much of his face.’

  ‘Think very carefully,’ said Walter, ‘was it a man, or was it a woman?’

  ‘Before you said, like, I was sure it was a man, never occurred to me it might not have been, but now that you say different, well I’ll tell you this much, there’s loads of girls at school who’d kill for a bum like that. It could have been a bitch, it really could.’

  Walter glanced across at Karen.

  She frowned and shook her head, evidently nothing to ask.

  ‘What did you do then?’ asked Walter.

  ‘Lee took me home in his old banger.’

  ‘You didn’t think to tell the police?’

  ‘I wanted to, I said to Lee, I think we should tell the police, but he said he didn’t see anything, he thought I was making it up, he thinks I am a bit scatty as it is, and he said it was best not to get involved with the cops, so I didn’t, and then I saw you on the telly, like, and I said to me mum what I’d seen, and she said we should get in touch.’

  They all looked at mum, and mum nodded and suddenly looked pleased with herself.

  ‘Will you excuse me a moment, I need the gents,’ said Walter, and he left the room.

  He went and found Dai.

  ‘This Lee character, what’s he like?’

  ‘A complete waste of space.’

  ‘Would you mind if I had a chat with him, put a bit of pressure on him?’

  ‘Be my guest. You’d be doing me a favour. Do you want me to pick him up?’

  ‘That would be perfect, oh, and can you make sure the girl doesn’t see him.’

  ‘Sure.’

  Walter went back inside.

  The girl was examining her painted nails. The mother was yawning. Karen was checking her text messages.

  ‘Thought of anything else?’ Walter asked the girl.

  ‘Yeah,’ she said, pulling herself across the desk, looking Walter straight in the eye. ‘Is there a reward? You said on the telly there was a reward.’

  Karen grinned and said, ‘If your evidence results in someone being prosecuted, you may be entitled to a proportion of any reward, but it’s unlikely, don’t hold your breath. Now if you could give us a name...’

  ‘How am I supposed to do that?’ said the girl, sitting back in her chair, folding her arms, obviously disappointed.

  ‘That’s life,’ said Karen.

  ‘Can we go now?’ said the mother.

  ‘Sure,’ said Walter. ‘We’ll be in touch if there’s anything else
.’

  ‘Are you gonna run us home,’ said the girl.

  Karen shook her head. ‘Sorry no, we’re all too busy; we don’t run a taxi service.’

  ‘Typical,’ muttered the mother, as she ambled out. ‘We try to help and this is all we get.’

  ‘Bye, Walter,’ grinned the girl, as she followed her mother out.

  When they’d gone Karen said, ‘PM’s in on Maggie O’Brien. Carbon monoxide poisoning confirmed cause of death.’

  ‘Not a surprise.’

  ‘Are we off then?’

  ‘Not just yet.’

  ‘Well that was a complete waste of time.’

  ‘You think so?’

  ‘She was a right little madam, I wouldn’t trust anything she said; and asking for a reward, well...’

  ‘It wasn’t a complete waste of time. We now know for sure we are looking for a white he-she thing, we also know it was no accident, it was indeed murder, and we also know what it was wearing, and best of all, we know it has a nice bum.’ Walter chuckled at his summation.

  Karen grinned too and said, ‘And what proportion of the population possesses a nice bum?’

  ‘Not as many as they used to.’

  ‘Too true.’

  ‘We have someone else to interview,’ said Walter.

  ‘We do?’

  ‘Lee Davies, he should be here in a mo.’

  ‘When did you fix that up?’

  ‘Visit to gents. Just one thing, I might ask you to step outside for a minute.’

  There was a short silence as Karen pondered on what Walter had in mind.

  ‘Don’t do anything rash,’ she said.

  ‘Me?’ he said, innocently, pointing to his chest. ‘As if.’

  He went outside and a minute later returned with Lee Davies. Karen gave him the once over. About twenty, wiry build, short mousy hair, blotchy white skin, drawn face, as if he was not unacquainted with illegal substances. He glanced at the girl. Half smiled; she was all right, for a copper.

  ‘Sit down, Lee,’ said Walter.

  The guy sullenly sat and Walter joined Karen opposite.

  ‘So what’s this all about?’ he said.

  ‘You were in Mostyn at the time of a murder.’

  ‘Was I?’

  ‘You were with Chloe Evans.’

  ‘Was I?’

  ‘We don’t want to know anything about that,’ said Karen. ‘We are only interested in the murder.’

  Lee shifted in his chair, wondered what to say.

  The black fella began talking again.

  ‘Chloe witnessed the murder.’

  ‘Did she?’

  ‘Don’t mess with me!’ said Walter. ‘You are in enough trouble as it is!’

  ‘Didn’t see nottin’.’

  ‘You didn’t see anything at all?’ clarified Karen.

  ‘S’wot I said.’

  Karen and Walter glanced at one another. Walter nodded her away and she stood and left the room.

  ‘What’s all this caper, then? Fancy your chances do ya?’ said the lad.

  Walter stood up and went round the other side of the desk, bent down and whispered in the guy’s ear.

  ‘I’ve got something to say to you.’

  ‘Really?’

  ‘Don’t you ever lay hands on that girl again.’

  ‘Oh yeah? Fancy her yourself, do ya?’

  Walter drew his big hand back and cuffed the guy over the ear. There was an audible slap. Karen heard it sitting outside.

  ‘Hey! What the fuck! You can’t do that to me!’

  ‘I just did. Just making my point.’

  ‘She’s my girlfriend.’

  ‘She’s fourteen.’

  ‘Have you seen her?’

  ‘That has nothing to do with it. She’s a child, and it’s what’s in here that counts,’ and he tapped the guy’s head with his middle finger.

  ‘And if I don’t?’

  ‘I will make it my business to put you away for five years, and the place you will go offers special treatment for people like you. When you come out your bum hole will feel like it has had a red-hot poker permanently rammed up it! Understand?’

  Lee shrugged, never said a word.

  ‘Understand?’

  Lee nodded.

  ‘I’ll be watching you, Lee Davies. Now get out of here before I change my mind.’

  Karen watched the door burst open and Lee come galloping out.

  ‘He’s mad, your friggin’ boss!’ he shouted, and he hurried out through the doors.

  Walter came out rubbing his hands together.

  ‘What was that all about?’

  ‘I was just giving him a little parental advice.’

  Karen cocked her head and peered over her non-existent spectacles.

  ‘Now then,’ he said, grabbing his raincoat, ‘time to head on home, I wonder if Jock’s place will still be open.’

  ‘God, I hope not.’

  Chapter Fifteen

  In the morning Walter was again late in the office. By the time he ambled in it was obvious the refresh meeting was about to start. Mrs West peered at him and said, ‘Been sleeping slow again?’

  ‘Sorry I’m late, ma’am, I’ve been to a funeral.’

  ‘Sorry to hear that. No one close I hope?’

  ‘Colin Rivers’ funeral.’

  ‘You thought the murderer might have attended?’ said Karen.

  ‘It’s possible, it’s not unknown.’

  ‘Were there many there?’ asked Mrs West.

  ‘About a hundred.’

  ‘Did you know anyone?’ asked Karen.

  ‘Only Marian, and the daughters, they were in bits.’

  ‘Anyone suspicious?’ asked Mrs West.

  ‘The murderer wasn’t there.’

  ‘How do you know?’

  ‘There were no pert bums on display, outside of the Rivers’ family.’

  Karen grinned.

  Cresta said, ‘Is this a private joke or can anyone join in?’

  ‘It will become clear when Karen gives us her update.’

  Everyone turned to Karen.

  ‘Away you go, K,’ said Walter.

  Karen glanced at her notes and began.

  ‘We now have a description of the railway killer. Height between five foot four and five foot seven, short for a man, tallish for a woman, slight build, pert bum,’ and she grinned, as one of the young guys shouted, ‘Wha-hey!’

  ‘Shut up,’ scowled Walter.

  ‘Rules you out, Thompson,’ another of the young blokes whispered to Jenny who turned and pulled a face.

  Karen continued, ‘The killer is definitely white and was wearing tight designer blue jeans, grey sweatshirt, overlarge baseball cap, and new blue and white Adidas trainers. I need to stress here that our eye witness could not confirm whether the suspect was male or female.’

  Cresta couldn’t wait to jump in, blurted, ‘I am becoming more convinced it’s female!’

  ‘There’s your pert bum,’ said the same guy from earlier.

  Walter shot him a look and he mouthed, ‘Sorry Guv.’

  ‘A smart new black or dark hatchback was seen driving away from the scene.’

  Walter added, ‘It may well have blackened windows, hence the witness could not ID the driver.’

  Karen nodded and said, ‘It’s possibly a Japanese hatchback, but we can’t be certain. The PM report on Maggie O’Brien confirms she died of carbon monoxide poisoning. The usual location for such deaths is of course in cars, most notably suicide, but Maggie did not commit suicide. The car in which she died will continue to show traces of carbon monoxide, regardless of how well it has been cleaned. Find the car; find the murderer, simple as. Look out too when searching vehicles for any suspicious piping that could have been used to introduce the gas. At the crime scene in Delamere the heavy rain had washed most of the footprints away, but on the far side of the lake we did find some footprints in the heavier mud. The prints had been blurred and fuzzied by the rain, but
were still of sufficient standard to show they were Adidas trainers, size six if they were men’s, size eight, if they were women’s, the size identifier on the bottom of the sole is blurred beyond ID,’ Karen waved to Jenny and she flashed up the latest photos, enlarged and enhanced on the big screen fixed to the wall. Footprints in the mud, four of them, differing quality; ranging from vaguely useful to totally useless. Footprints left by a murderer? It was possible.

  Everyone peered at the pics, and then back at Karen.

  ‘Of course we don’t know for certain these are the killer’s feet, but there must be a good chance. They are small feet for a man, and big feet for a woman, in either case, rarer than your average punter. The killer, if he is a man, probably has size six feet, is of slight build, possesses a pert bum, and we believe is aged early thirties.’

  Karen looked up and saw Walter nodding, and then he said, ‘We think the suspect is in full time employment, working slightly odd hours, perhaps seven in the evening till two in the morning, or maybe an hour either side. Anyone got anything they want to add?’

  He observed a sea of puzzled faces, people pursing lips, glancing at their neighbours, hoping the spotlight wouldn’t fall on them.

  ‘Come on, no budding Sherlock Holmes’s amongst you? OK, but I want you to think hard about it. Are we missing something here? We probably are. It could save someone’s life. If you think of anything, no matter how tenuous, come and see me or speak to Karen.’

  Cresta seamlessly followed on. ‘The perpetrator is attractive, likeable, easy to talk to, the kind of person you would want to know, the kind of person you would trust, the kind of person you could easily let your guard down against. One day that might be important to you.’

  ‘That is good advice,’ added Walter. ‘Right, OK, moving on, black or dark Japanese hatchbacks. Find out how many there are in the area, find out who owns them, and if need be, we’ll check them all out, one by one.’

  ‘Great,’ muttered the young guy, and the team trudged back to work.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Armitage Shelbourne was a precious child, in more ways than one. His mother had suffered four miscarriages before Armitage finally struggled into the light. Kay, his mother, had been warned by the family doctor that this must positively be her last stab at motherhood. It was taking too much out of her. Not to put too fine a point on it, the doctor had told the father, Donald, another such event could take the mother too. Don and Kay doted on Armitage.