Orla was silent. She agreed . . . It makes no sense. Looking perplexed, she sighed, ‘God Matt, where to from here?’
‘There's only one place to go. We are going to have to revisit and re-examine all the evidence that has been collected; right back to the first bloody murder. But while it’s fresh, we need to find a connection between this latest murder and the other two; there has got to be something. I don’t know what we are looking for but if it’s there, we have to find it. By the way, you are going to have to clear up your belongings . . . everything. It’s all being moved to Wellesbourne tomorrow morning.’
‘Oh my gosh . . . so soon!’
‘Yes . . . whether you like it or not, we’re out of here.’
Chapter 14
The detectives were finding their new home a little strange. It had been built as a three bedroomed, double story detached house, but had served for many years as the local Police Station when a regular Bobby on the Beat had been the norm. Over the years, budget reductions had resulted in the local presence being reduced and the station’s future was in doubt. The detectives had taken over the upper floor and had acres of room in which to set out their operations area. Orla was concerned as she was used to seeing and chatting with a whole host of friends and colleagues.
‘Don’t know if I’m going to like this!’ she moaned. Matt was less troubled but had to admit it did feel a little strange. They checked out their inventory. Yes, everything was there!
Orla was still excited. ‘We’ve got new chairs, how about that!’
Matt had already settled into his, he leant back. ‘Now the work really begins. We’ve got to try and make some headway with the little that we have. First off, we need to gather as much information on our Dennis Parker as we can; see if we can find any connections that we can develop. Can you get us a meeting with the powers that be at
Lyndon Heath School? Let’s see what they can tell us.’
‘I’m onto it!’ Minutes later Orla held her pen aloft. ‘Get your coat; we’re due there in an hour.’
* * *
Lyndon Heath School was the largest secondary school in the area and could hold its head up high as a worthy seat of learning. They were ushered into the administrator’s office.
Mrs. Wilkes greeted them. She patted her greying hair, running her fingers down her cheek before nervously fiddling with the buttons on her high necked blouse.
She had a downcast demeanour about her. ‘Such a terrible thing . . . the whole school is just shocked to the core. Do you have any idea who could be responsible?’
Matt opened his notepad. ‘Not at the moment but it is still early days. We need to get as much information about Mr. Parker as we can, anything that you feel might be useful; was he popular for instance?’
‘Dennis has been here a long time, he was very well respected, however he was a strict disciplinarian and he would not have been very popular with certain of the older boys. Mind you it’s not like it was. Back in the early eighties we were still using corporal punishment, you know, the cane . . . and Dennis was the master who used to administer it, so I guess you could say that he would not have been the most popular of teachers at that time.’
‘Did he have any interests that you are aware of?’
‘He was a member of the local Bridge club; I know he went there a couple of nights a week.’
‘Do you know if he had any female friends that his wife would not have been happy about?’
‘What are you implying . . . that Mr. Parker would have an affair? Absolutely not. He was a regular churchgoer, went every Sunday to St Alphege in the town.’
Matt was digging, he needed some answers. Upsetting a witness often made them utter things that they would not normally divulge; he continued to needle her. ‘Being a churchgoer hasn’t stopped people stepping out of line from time to time.’
Mrs. Wilkes now visibly upset, retorted, ‘I resent the nature of your tone detective.’
Orla thought it was time to divert the attention. ‘Mrs. Wilkes I’m sorry about the nature of the questions but I’m sure that you would want us to find those responsible for this senseless loss of life.’
‘Yes of course; but Dennis was such a settled person that I’m sure he stopped looking at other women a long time ago.’
‘But you liked him, didn’t you?’
Mrs. Wilkes stiffened, she didn’t like Orla’s question and wriggled uncomfortably. ‘Well yes, he often brought me a Cadbury Snack and we would share a cup of tea from time to time. But he never ever made a pass or anything like that. He was a thorough gentleman.’
‘Not many of those about I’m afraid.’
Matt stifled a smile. ‘So if Mr. Parker was having a liaison with someone, you would know about it?’
‘Oh yes, absolutely.’
‘Does the school have a drug problem?’
Mrs. Wilkes was quick to respond. ‘No more than other schools in the area. We recognise that children today are faced with all manner of temptations, all readily available I’m sure, but we have open discussions about such things and it is handled very responsibly.’
‘Would Mr. Parker be involved at any point in these matters?’
‘Oh yes, definitely; in fact he has organised rehabilitation for a couple of pupils that I am aware of . . . yes he would have been very active in this area.’
‘OK’ . . . Matt had heard enough and wanted to move on. ‘Thanks for your time
Mrs. Wilkes, it is quite possible that we will need to call on you again and maybe speak to some other members of staff, would that be acceptable?’
‘Of course detective, just phone ahead and I will organise it for you, let me see you out.’
Back in the car, Orla voiced her feelings. ‘Well we started off with no suspects but after that, we’ve probably got a few thousand. I wonder how many ex pupils would have liked to give Mr. Parker a good going over.’
Matt let the remarks pass him by; he rubbed his chin thoughtfully. ‘This killing . . . this victim; it doesn’t fit the same profile as the other two! They are definitely connected; but why was Mr. Parker targeted. It just makes no sense!’
‘I hate to admit it but you're right; wrong time, wrong place for our Mr. Parker.’
‘C’mon Orla, let’s get back to the office, we need to start revisiting those files. There’s got to be something that your lot missed.’
‘You realise that slur of incompetence includes me!’
Matt laughed, ‘No . . . no . . . it wasn’t aimed at you. I think that without your input they would have come up with bugger all.’
‘We did come up with bugger all, as you so eloquently put it.’ Matt desperately tried to come up with the right words to put some cheer back into their banter. It didn’t help. ‘Stop digging Matt’.
Orla’s response was met with a shallow laugh. ‘You’ll have to forgive me, it’s a Sagittarian trait, I didn’t mean it the way it sounded. Let me make it up to you.’
‘OK, you can buy me lunch.’ She looked away, not wanting him to see the smile.
‘Right! No expense spared . . . McDonald’s have got some new specials on offer, let’s give it a go.’
‘Last of the big spenders.’ Matt chuckled at her remark. An hour later they were back at Wellesbourne; they sat opposite each other, sipping tea.
‘So, as far as you can remember, the only link you could find between these two victims was a series of phone calls from both individuals to one number, a single mobile phone?’
Orla had begun to open the files. ‘Yes I’ve got the details here. There were regular calls made over about eight months, but only a couple a week, some weeks nothing at all. All the calls were voice calls, so we don’t know the nature of the calls, but what is quite interesting is the final call to the last victim was a text!’
‘What did it say?’
‘Just . . . see you at 8.’
‘That’s it!’
‘Yes that’s it. It was made at lunchtime on the day that
he was murdered.’
‘A date with death!’
Chapter 15
With little to go on, Matt pondered the question. What happened to make this last rendezvous so final? . . . ‘I would like to have a look over the motor vehicles; are they still in our possession?’
‘No, I’m afraid not. They were both company owned cars and were released to the insurance companies after forensics had finished with them. We do have plenty of photographs though.’ Orla began to call up the relevant images.
Matt leant forward. ‘Let’s have a look; a new pair of eyes might pick up something.’
‘How about two new pairs of eyes? Kevin played all this stuff pretty close to his chest. Charlie and Simon helped him oversee the evidence and the rest of us spent most of our time chasing up dead end leads.’
Matt looked up and smiled. ‘God! . . . What a waste of talent.’
Not since she had walked into Janet Warley’s office had she felt this awkwardness in Matt’s presence. Is he trying to make a pass or just trying to put right his earlier gaffs? Orla decided to take charge, ‘Have you opened up the case file? Here let me.’ And she pushed him aside. ‘There you are that’s the first one; if it’s not in there, then we haven’t got it, whatever it may be.’
The photos of the first killing were clearly laid out and showed a great amount of detail. The gruesome nature of many of the shots, were all in a day’s work to Matt but Orla was still very uncomfortable with such graphic content.
‘Let’s see . . . Jeremy Powell; he was found just up the road in Oakley Wood
Crematorium . . . fitting! I see he’s from Watford. That’s only a couple of hours away. I wonder why he stayed over? Most people like to get home at night.’
‘If he had a floozy on the go, then that would be reason enough; wouldn’t it?’
Matt smiled without looking up. ‘Have a look at these photographs, see if you can see something . . . anything that begs a question.’
Orla moved closer, trying not to invade his space; Matt eased over giving her some access. Her perfume began to trigger his senses. God, does she always smell this good?
Her voice brought him back to earth. ‘The fire has not left us much to work with but there was a spectacle case in the glove-box that had protected some cannabis!’
‘So he was a user . . . hardly a dealer if he was carrying it like that.’
‘Yes I agree, also there was a box of Black Magic choc’s lying on the back seat still in the plastic bag. It was burned to a cinder but forensics were able to identify it so it definitely looks like he was on his way to meet someone special.’ Orla continued with the list. ‘There was a set of Ping golf clubs in the boot.’
Matt jumped in. ‘Hold on! . . .What’s that? That thing on the windscreen?’ and he pointed to a small sticker that was positioned just above the tax disc. ‘Look . . . There is a close up of it, the heat has got to it and it’s curling up.’
Orla checked the key. ‘There you are, Item 21. It's listed as a cat silhouette foil backed sticker. There’s a footnote written in, unidentified, but has a passion for cats.’
She quickly went into the linked file menu and scanned the photos from the second murder. The views clearly displayed the identical methods used to torture and eventually kill the two individuals, but there was no cat sticker and no clues that they could latch onto.
‘Orla, this second murder, Roger whatsisname, did they find the bullet?’
‘Hardly . . . What they found was the lead. It had rattled around the footwell after taking his toes off but the heat of the fire had melted it, so yes we have it but it’s not a lot of use. They reckon it’s a 9mm parabellum, but that’s about it. There were a couple of things of interest though; a gold pendant necklace, gift wrapped . . . from H Samuel. They were able to trace the purchase, £72 paid in cash. A small weekend case and his business case were in the boot. Oh yes, a mobile phone, burnt to a frazzle and there were also a couple of packets of Durex in his jacket. They did ask the wife if they used this kind of contraception . . . and they didn’t!’
Matt’s attempt at humour was delivered with a wry smile. ‘That must have gone down like a lead balloon! Still, it certainly reinforces our theory that he was playing away. I think we can assume the necklace wasn’t for his wife; probably paid cash so there wouldn’t be a record on his card statement for inquisitive eyes at home. How many times did they go back and revisit the homes . . . talk to the families, you know, follow up?’
‘Let’s have a look; it will all be in here.’ Orla quickly whisked through the files. ‘Kevin and Simon called immediately after the incidents and they called once more about two weeks later. The wives were completely at a loss as to why their husband’s should have suffered such horrifying deaths. Nothing untoward was found at either home. You would have expected them to find some indication that something was going on, but no . . . nothing!’
‘OK . . . That’s it then.’ Matt leant back with his arms folded. ‘We are going to have to go back and interview the families to see if anything has come up. With the passage of time it’s amazing how even the smallest clues can break a case wide open. Can we do them both in a day?’
Orla nodded. ‘If we start early . . . then yes. Jeremy Powell lived in the Watford area and Roger Taylor came from Chertsey, Surrey. Assuming they haven’t moved we can do them both.’
‘Right, can you get them on the phone and set up meetings for tomorrow?
Mrs. Powell at say, ten o’clock and Mrs. Taylor for, what do you think . . . about twelve? Don’t take no for an answer . . . and I’ll make some tea.’
‘Are you sure you can you manage that?’
Matt smiled and whistled softly, ignoring the dig as he busied himself. ‘Where are the biscuits?’
Orla, now deep in conversation waved her arm in a dismissive sweep. Matt waited, sipping tea as he listened in on the one sided conversation.
Eventually she hung up. ‘We’ve a busy day tomorrow. They can both see us at those times and neither of them is working so there you are . . . success!’ The only problem we have is both are expecting some kind of progress report. I’ll leave you to handle that.’
Chapter 16
The morning was bright for a change and with indicators blinking, Matt eased his Mondeo into the motorway traffic. Orla had already made herself comfortable and had reclined the seat a couple of notches. Last night still hung deep in her thoughts and she smiled to herself as she recalled some of the revelry. Hen nights were always wild, and last night’s party was no exception. One of her closest mates was taking the plunge and although she was happy for her, there was a little sadness as she was losing one of her soul mates, someone she could drop in on without warning and kip down on a sofa. No questions, just a close camaraderie; she was going to miss that.
Matt was glad of the quiet. His mind was working overtime covering all the angles that he could think of. He had to find something on this trip otherwise he was going to end up in a Kevin Crystal backwater; all avenues covered and nowhere left to go . . . perish the thought. The time passed quickly. He checked the clock, it was almost nine thirty. As his eyes returned to the road, the motorway exit sign loomed before him.
‘You awake Orla?’
‘Wide awake! Couldn’t you feel yourself being watched? You’ve had a frown on your face for about half an hour. I’ve been wondering how long you could hold it.’
Matt’s frown deepened. ‘I haven’t . . . that’s just my relaxed normal face.’
‘You should see it from this side.’ Matt couldn’t resist a glance at his grinning colleague. He realised he had been caught out and was now laughing at the silliness of it.
‘See . . . look at you. Now you’ve got a smile on your face you look almost handsome!’
‘Only almost?’ Now self conscious, Matt was feeling his way.
‘Yes . . . only almost. How close are we?’ ‘
‘Sat nav gives us two miles, ah yes, there’s the “Leather Bottl
e”.’
‘Strange name for a pub! Maybe there’s a “Glass Slipper” around the corner.’
Matt’s smile hardened as he brought them back to the mission in hand. ‘Orla, I’ve been turning over in my mind a thousand times, how best to approach this woman and to be honest, we are just going to have to wing it; and keep digging for new leads. It’s not going to be easy but we’ve got to come away with something!’
They pulled up outside a small semi-detached house, only different from its neighbours by the colour of the door. ‘Very neat!’ she quipped as she rang the bell. ‘Someone’s coming.’
The door opened and a tall, rather elegant lady presented herself. A pale cardigan draped around her shoulders gave the impression that she was in a relaxed state but her taut face said otherwise. Her black slacks were devoid of any creases save for the razor sharp leading edge. Her hair had been recently coiffured; not a curl out of place. Gina Powell was out to impress. ‘Good morning, you must be the detectives?’
‘Yes, I’m Detective Inspector Black and this is my colleague Detective Constable Graham. Thanks for seeing us at such short notice Mrs. Powell.’
‘Come in will you.’ and she ushered them into the lounge. ‘Are you any closer to finding out who murdered my husband?’
Orla pulled a face at Matt as she answered the question. ‘The reason we have come to see you this morning is to let you know that we are following up some new leads and we need to ask you some rather personal questions.’
A Killer's Calling: Incite to Murder 1 Page 6