‘FD 52,’ came the shout over the airways.
‘Go ahead, Control,’ answered Vicky to her supervisory call sign.
‘Jane Simpson has been discharged from the hospital and is on her way back to Harrowfield Police Station with PC Druce. He’ll liaise with you there.’
‘Ten four. Thanks for that,’ said Vicky before continuing her discussion with Dylan. ‘We’ll get a fuller picture once we’ve been able to interview her.’
‘Make sure you ask her how and where on his body she thinks she stabbed the intruder. I want the facts recorded.’
‘Why? Don’t you believe her?’
‘We have to prove what happened, for her benefit as much as everyone else’s, remember. The evidence will corroborate or refute what she says took place. Just do a short statement for the press, and make sure you interview in Room 1 so that I can downstream; if I can’t be in the interview at least I can watch and listen in on the monitor.’
‘I noticed the deceased didn’t have a wedding ring on, but there appeared to be a mark where one might have been once.’
Dylan smiled. ‘You see, I told you you’d never forget to look at the ring finger after the dead body we pulled from the canal. I must confess I didn’t notice if he was wearing a ring or not, but I would have looked for it at the post-mortem,’ he said sheepishly.
‘I’ve asked Andy, before he leaves the scene, to bring a full set of clothing for Jane Simpson. PC Druce has the clothing she was wearing at the time of the incident bagged and tagged for us, and she can’t stay in a paper suit forever.’
‘That’s thoughtful, Vicky. And Ned is seeing to the immediate exhibits with crime scene investigators before securing the scene and arranging the necessary overnight protection by uniform?’
‘That’s correct.’
Dylan would, when back at the station with Vicky, arrange the Incident Room and staffing of the murder enquiry to commence at daylight. A fresh search team would be sent to the house and its immediate exterior.
At the police station Jane Simpson would require a solicitor, who would more than likely want her to rest after such a trauma and the lateness of the hour. Dylan and Vicky weren’t for arguing. They would relish a few hours sleep themselves before they commenced the enquiries, in earnest, later in the day.
It was decided that Vicky would sit in with Detective Constable Andy Wormald at the first interview with Jane Simpson when they would ask her to take them over what had happened. ‘With only a few challenges,’ Dylan said firmly.
Vicky handed the press release she had scripted to Dylan for him to read:
In the early hours of this morning a female caller from the Paddock area of Harrowfield rang on the three nines emergency line asking for help. She had disturbed an intruder at her home. Police on their arrival found the body of a masked man in the hallway, who also appears to have been fatally stabbed. Enquiries are continuing.
‘Good. Email that to HQ Control now under the heading of Urgent Press Release and for the attention of the duty press officer. Then we can do no more until we can hear what Jane Simpson has to say.’
The pressure and tension appeared to have abated.
‘She must have been bloody petrified. I would’ve been,’ said Vicky.
‘Anyone would. Tell Andy I want a softly, softly approach to her in the interview.’
***
Home and a hot shower beckoned. Dylan felt weighed down by a sudden wave of fatigue. A million things were going round in his head. He was in charge of a murder investigation and very conscious he had to remain alert and focused.
Jen’s patience held by a thread as Maisy toyed with her breakfast. It was six o’clock. Dylan arrived home, washed his hands in the kitchen sink and planted a kiss on Maisy’s head whilst he dried them. He took his mobile phone from his jacket pocket and placed it on the table next to her, with his car keys. Jen stood at the sink and he went to stand behind her, circling her waist with his arms. He leaned his head on her shoulder and nuzzled into her neck.
‘Sleep well love?’ He asked, planting a kiss on her bare shoulder.
‘Try not at all,’ she said. ‘It’s not easy when I don’t know what you’re going to deal with. I worry.’
‘Well you shouldn’t. I can look after myself.’
A noise from behind them made them both turn quickly. Maisy, Dylan’s phone in hand, was dancing to the ring tone she’d induced.
Jen’s smile was wide. Dylan yawned but his eyes smiled happily behind hooded eyelids. Maisy grinned at them, showing off her new baby teeth.
Dylan walked into the dining room and sat down in the chair next to the window. Jen watched from the kitchen as his eyes closed and his chin dropped towards his chest. The morning newspaper fell in through the letterbox but the noise didn’t wake him.
Jen put her finger to her lips and Maisy copied her.
‘Baby,’ Maisy said in a hushed tone as she watched her daddy sleeping.
***
Two hours later, Dylan bounded into the Incident Room which to his delight was already starting to take shape. There was busy, cheerful chatter and an influx of personnel, some people he knew, others he hadn’t worked with before. All were expeditious.
Coffee in hand, feet up, Dylan’s eyes were glued to the video screen in his office, which at nine thirty showed nothing more than a dark, interview room. Suddenly he saw with the turn of the handle the heavy grey, fire door swing wide open. One hand of Vicky’s remained on the door lever and her shoulder was to the door out to the corridor, as she reached round the door jamb with her other hand to switch on the lights. Instantly the dark, windowless room was illuminated and Dylan had a clear picture on his screen. Jane Simpson and Solicitor Yvonne Best from Perfect & Best Solicitors, who worked out of the old Co-op building in Harrowfield followed her in and DC Andy Wormald was the last to enter. He shut the door behind him. Vicky invited the ladies to sit opposite them at the empty table. She put her paperwork down. Dylan was pleased to see Jane Simpson had used Perfect & Best. He felt sure that the solicitor’s being a female would bring her some comfort. Jane Simpson rubbed her arm frantically. She was physically shaking.
‘Sorry, it’s a bit cold in here, isn’t it?’ asked Vicky. ‘It will soon warm up,’ she said smiling at the ladies before commencing the introductions for the purpose of the tape machine. She outlined the reasons for Jane Simpson’s arrest. ‘Do you feel well enough to do the interview, Jane?’
‘Yes,’ Jane Simpson said. She was very quietly spoken and Dylan reached forward to turn up the volume on his monitor. He could see tear stains on Jane Simpson’s cheeks and her face was red and swollen; her eyelids looked sore. Jane pulled the sleeves of her cardigan down over her hands and wiped under her eyes and her running nose. Yvonne Best reached in her handbag and passed her a pack of tissues.
‘You sure you’re okay to continue?’ Vicky said.
‘I want to get it over with.’ Jane blew her nose into a tissue.
‘In your own time then, will you tell us from the beginning what happened last night?’
Jane Simpson appeared to focus her mind. She sat very still and avoided eye contact with the officers. She spoke in a rhythm, as if reading the words from the wall behind Vicky and Andy. ‘I’d had a drink. I’d fallen asleep on the settee. I don’t know what time it was. It felt late. I went into the kitchen to get a drink of water to take with me to bed and suddenly I was grabbed by my hair, from behind.’ Her fist clenched. ‘I was dragged backwards. I opened my mouth to scream but nothing came out and by the time I’d recovered he had stuffed something in my mouth. I think I hit my head. He turned me round and grabbed me by the throat and I couldn’t get my breath. I thought I was going to die. I remembered feeling confused because it was an old man who held me but he was very, very strong. There was a struggle. I reached out and I felt the knife block on the worktop with my right hand. God knows how I managed to pull one out, but I did, and I lashed out at him. He managed to grab the knife
but I wouldn’t let go. I felt it run through my hand. Then his grip loosened. He turned and staggered towards the hallway. I froze. I remember feeling numb. I grabbed the phone from the wall, fell onto the floor and hid behind the breakfast bar. That’s all I can remember, until the police and paramedics arrived. They told me he was dead.’ Jane Simpson clenched her stomach, breathed in deeply and closed her eyes. ‘I’d killed him.’
‘We can take a break if you want?’ asked Vicky.
‘No. I’m fine,’ Jane said. Her face and lips had faded to the colour of her platinum hair.
‘How many times did you stab him. Do you remember?’
‘Two, maybe three? I don’t really know. I just kept lashing out until he was gone out of my reach.’
‘Do you know how he got into the house?’
‘No, I thought about that. A window maybe? I’d burnt some toast earlier in the day and opened the kitchen window slightly.’
‘No boyfriend or man on the scene at the moment?’ Vicky said.
‘Once bitten twice shy,’ she said with a faint glimmer of a smile.
‘Any ideas who the intruder might be?’
‘No.’
‘Jane. Did you know the intruder was wearing a mask?’ Vicky said.
‘Was he?’ she said attaching herself to her seat by her hands.
‘I have a picture of the man under that mask. Will you look at it please and tell us if you know who it is?’ asked DC Andy Wormald.
Jane Simpson leaned away from the table. She turned slowly to look at her solicitor. ‘Must I?’ she said.
‘If you feel up to it, it may help.’
Jane Simpson took a deep breath and nodded her head.
Andy put the photo face down on the table and pushed it across in front of her. He turned it over speaking the fact he was doing so and he read out the exhibit number for the purpose of the interview tape.
Jane Simpson jumped to her feet instantly. ‘No, no it can’t be Billy! That’s my husband, my ex-husband! Oh, God, I think… I’m going to be sick,’ Jane Simpson said. Yvonne Best’s eyes flashed in the direction of the two officers and then back to the face of her client. She stood and holding Jane Simpson by the arm helped settle her back down in her seat.
The interview was suspended and Jane Simpson was taken from the room in tears.
Dylan played the tape back over and over again. Was he imagining it? Or did Jane Simpson get to her feet prior to her being able to see the photograph?
At the request of Mrs Best, further interviews were postponed due to her client’s physical and mental wellbeing. The officers would resume interviewing later in the day.
The post-mortem of the intruder, now believed to be Billy Simpson was scheduled for the next day. It gave the team an opportunity to recharge their batteries and reassess what intelligence they had so far.
Chapter Twelve
‘I know I was supposed to be picking Max up from the vet today but can you do it?’ Dylan asked Jen as he walked out of the kitchen. She heard him running up the stairs.
‘Do I have to do everything?’ she said through clenched teeth. ‘Bloody job!’ she said out loud as she finished mopping the kitchen floor after breakfast.
Maisy looked across at her from her high chair, where she had been happily playing with her books and bricks. Jen saw the soft hair of her blonde eyebrows knitted together and her sweet little lips took a dive at the corners. ‘Cross?’ she said.
‘Oh, I’m sorry. Yes, mummy is cross,’ she said with a scowl, ‘but not with you darling.’ Jen wiped her brow with her forearm as she went to her daughter, kissed her on the cheek and lifted her out of the chair. She held her tight.
Dylan’s mind was on one thing and one thing only, murder.
‘Maisy shall we go and see Max today?’
The little girl nodded enthusiastically.
‘Shall we see if he can come home with us?’ she said as she walked into the lounge.
Maisy squealed with delight.
‘That’s a yes then,’ Jen said kneeling down on the floor. With Maisy still in her arms she pulled out her changing mat from behind the chair. Laying her daughter on it she gently tapped her nose. ’You are so like your daddy. But don’t you ever, ever grow up to be a detective because you’ll never be at home.’
‘Right that’s me off then. See you when I see you,’ Dylan said as he popped his head around the door. His jacket over his arm and his briefcase was in his hand. He blew a kiss and vanished out of the door. She heard a purpose in his stride as he walked down the hallway.
‘Will you be home for tea do you think?’ Jen called after him which was met by the slamming of the front door. ‘Love you too,’ she said.
Nappy changed, Jen picked Maisy off the floor and carried their daughter to get the coats from behind the front door.
***
Dylan had agreed with Vicky that if she and Andy continued with the interview of Jane Simpson he’d accept the short straw and go to the mortuary.
‘Where art thou, fair maiden?’ Professor Stow asked when they arrived, his fat red cheeks wobbling as he gleefully sought the preferred person usually in tow. ‘I have a present for her.’
DC Ned Granger reached out for the box of chocolates. ‘For Vicky?’
The professor smiled but hung onto them.
‘She’s in interview. Anyhow, what’s she done to deserve a present?’ asked Ned.
‘I’m very pleased to say Mr Eugene Regis furnished me with a glowing reference and I have no doubt...’ Professor Stow pulled Dylan to one side and said out of the corner of his mouth, ‘that she was party to it,’ he said.
‘I’m pleased,’ said Dylan taking the coverall handed to him by the mortuary assistant.
‘And I’ll make sure she gets the chocs,’ said Ned taking the box from Stow.
‘Well if you’re sure,’ Professor Stow said looking over his half-rimmed glasses suspiciously at the detective. ‘I thought Eugene Regis might be with us today too but it appears not, he must have seen enough,’ he said to Dylan.
Karen Ebdon arrived. ‘You know Karen our Scenes of Crime supervisor, Professor?’ asked Dylan.
‘Oh yes, we’ve had many a naked body between us, haven’t we Kazza?’ he asked signalling her to follow him into the examination room.
The pathologist was already suited and booted. ‘Ned Granger is our exhibits officer on this one,’ Dylan said as they all made their way towards the examination table.
Professor Stow eyed him suspiciously. ‘Well don’t get those exhibits mixed up with the chocolates, they were rather expensive,’ he said.
‘You can trust me sir, I’m a police officer,’ Ned said with a glint in his eye.
Dylan didn’t respond but there was an expressive shake of the head before he went on to outline the attendant circumstances of when, where and how Billy Simpson had been found.
‘Well, there is one thing for sure. He won’t be terrifying anyone else will he? Well done to Ms Simpson. If she hadn’t done what she did perhaps it would have been her stretched out on the slab before us.’ Professor Stow sighed. ‘I’ve seen the knife block being involved in so many fatalities these days. They’re often left far too accessible in my view. I keep mine in the kitchen cupboard out of sight and suggest you do the same. One never knows does one? Let’s get on. I’ve another post-mortem at Leeds after lunch and then I’m onto Sheffield.’
***
Dylan stood quietly as he watched Stow methodically and thoroughly examine the body and take the relevant samples. Dylan searched in his pocket for his mints. Where were they? Damn, he can’t have replaced the packet he had given to Vicky. He would just have to grin and bear this one. He could taste the putrid smell as Stow opened the body. The pathologist’s voice was very clear and precise as he spoke for the purpose of recording his findings.
Two hours later he spoke directly to the team present. They sat in the office. It was warmer than the examination room and it felt nice for Dylan to take
the weight off his feet. The room where the post-mortems took place had to be kept cool for obvious reasons, but the trademark type of tiled flooring was often unforgiving in being the cause of shooting pains up both Dylan’s legs. Professor Stow rubbed the back of his calf muscle vigorously.
‘Cramp?’ Dylan asked.
‘One downside of this flaming job,’ he said. ‘As you saw I’ve taken the relevant samples and nail scrapings. The man received three stab wounds. One to the chest, which went straight into his heart. This was the killer strike, as it were. The two others to his back are deep wounds but they missed his vital organs. As you could see there was a lot of blood inside the body cavity. Can I have a look at the knife you’ve brought in?’ he asked, turning to the exhibits officer.
Detective Ned Granger handed him the weapon seized at the scene. It was held in a see-through container. Professor Stow studied it carefully. ‘Yes, that may well be the weapon that inflicted the wounds to the back. They were caused by a single-edged blade. But the one that did the real damage was a double-edged knife which is quite clearly defined where it’s pierced his clothing, his skin and the wound itself. The particular blade you are looking for I suggest is at least six inches in length and half the width of the knife used on his back. In the examination room you saw I measured the depth prior to opening him up. The tip of that knife entered his heart and it must have been driven with some force for it to go as far as it did into his body. I also think that the two wounds to his back were most likely done when the body was face down on the floor. I base that purely on the angle that the knife has entered the body. This angle represents the position of someone knelt over the body at the point of the stabbing. I can see by your faces you weren’t expecting that?’
‘I wasn’t,’ said Dylan. ‘So, let’s get this straight. In your opinion there were two knives involved in this crime?’
Reprobates Page 10