‘Had the ex disturbed them?’ asked Vicky.
‘Or had she planned it all along?’ asked Andy.
‘She doesn’t look the murdering type,’ Vicky said screwing up her nose.
‘What type’s that, Vicky? What do murderers look like? If only we knew...’
‘Point taken,’ she sighed. ‘When we checked the house we noticed that the toilet seat was up. I think that suggests a man had been there.’
‘Her ex maybe?’ asked Andy raising his hand to his brow. The thunder clapped ever harder and the forked lightning looked like it had sliced the sky in two.
‘Bloody hell,’ exclaimed Vicky, covering her ears.
‘Better make sure it wasn’t one of our lot that used it. When I was a CID aide, I remember going to a domestic murder scene with my boss. The officers who were supposed to be guarding it thought they’d make themselves useful by putting all the furniture back. They had “a bit of a tidy round”, and were sitting watching telly with their feet up and having a cuppa when we got there. I can still hear the boss screaming at them.’ Dylan chuckled.
‘Nah, bloody hell, nothing like that happened here. I’m more than confident none of ours would use the loo at a crime scene,’ said Andy. ‘Vicky does have a point though.’
‘Okay,’ said Dylan. ‘Put your theory to Jane Simpson in interview and see if we get a reaction. Although, I have a feeling you might get the silent treatment from now on.’
‘But we have enough to charge her with, boss, don’t we? She might’ve lied about the circumstances but she’s confessed to the stabbing.’
‘It’d be nice if she talked. We’re going to have to wait for Forensics to confirm our theories but it does appear that Billy Simpson was intentionally stabbed to death. Was it her who did it?’ Dylan pondered. ‘She was certainly there, and party to what took place. I’ll have a word with the Crown Prosecution Service. You never know which way they’re going to go... a bit like that weather.’
The sun’s rays were now strong and warm on Dylan’s back. So she could see Dylan’s face across the desk Vicky put her hand up to her brow. ‘My feelings are if she doesn’t talk we charge her. Sergeant Clegg’s team and the house-to-house operation should be well under way now. We’ll see if they turn anything up. If not, you’re just going to have to go in to interview and do your best with what you’ve got to throw at her at the moment and see if she’ll talk. That’s all we can do.’
Dylan’s phone rang and he picked it up. ‘Sergeant Murphy from Keighley, what can I do for you?’ Dylan said, indicating to the pair that they had finished the meeting, Vicky closed the door after her. Andy walked ahead of her to his desk.
‘We have the remains of a naked body in the River Worth, Coney Lane near the Worth Valley Railway. Do you know it?’ Sergeant Murphy asked.
‘Yes, I know the Worth Valley Railway. Go on,’ said Dylan biting the end of his pen. He shifted to the edge of his chair and his heart quickened a beat.
‘The underwater search unit are on route. Their ETA is thirty minutes. There’s no way to get to the body without them unfortunately. Visually the corpse appears very bloated and decomposed.’
‘Is it a man or woman?’
‘We can’t tell but I read a bulletin about your missing corpse, hence the phone call.’
‘Any missing persons in your area?’
‘The usual Mispers but nothing new on the system. Just thought we aren’t that far away from you; about eleven miles as the crow flies. Maybe it’s worth a look?’
‘If we set off now we should be with you about the same time as the search team.’
‘Thank you,’ said Sergeant Murphy.
‘No, thank you for not hesitating to ring me.’
Dylan sprang to his feet and opened his office door. ‘Paul,’ he shouted, ‘get your coat on we’re going for a ride.’
‘Will you be back in time for Jane Simpson’s next interview, boss,’ said Vicky.
‘Don’t know, they’ve found a body in the river near the Worth Valley Railway. It is possible it’s Kirsty Gallagher.’
Detective Sergeant Paul Robinson was on the phone but Dylan saw him stand, pick up his coat and seek the sleeve of his suit jacket.
Off to a body in the river at Keighley, Dylan typed in his text to Jen. Will be in touch as soon as I know what’s what x
Jen pulled her bleeping mobile out of her bag and read the message from Dylan. She threw it back. Donna scowled at her from across the office. Her phone immediately bleeped again. This time when she looked she saw it was from Penny Sanderson. What’s going down? read the text.
‘Someone’s annoyingly popular,’ Donna mumbled.
‘Ignore her,’ said Rita. ‘Some of us do have friends Donna.’
Such as? Jen texted back.
Such as, I’ve just seen Dylan rushing out of the yard. Jen smiled. Penny it appeared was taking the welfare of her new ‘police family’ very seriously.
A body found in a neighbouring Division, nothing for you to worry about. Jen texted back.
***
Once given directions for a crime scene it wasn’t hard to pinpoint the exact location. If it wasn’t the wail of the emergency vehicles, or the copious amount of crime scene tape it was the flashing blue lights that illuminated the sky that got the public’s attention.
‘DI Jack Dylan and Detective Sergeant Paul Robinson,’ Dylan said to the uniformed officer guarding the scene, when he stopped them in their tracks. The two men flashed their warrant cards at him. He lifted the blue and white tape and allowed them access.
‘Sergeant Murphy is expecting you, sir,’ he said pointing a gloved hand to the source of the shouting. There was a man-made path that ran beside the river. With a shepherding arm he hurried the detectives towards all the activity.
‘The divers are just bringing the body to the water’s edge now, sir,’ he said.
The three men made their way down a ramp, slipping in the process. ‘May be how the deceased lost their footing?’ asked Detective Sergeant Robinson. They surveyed the scene. ‘That might be badly decomposed, but that’s never a woman, sir.’
The underwater search team officers rallied around the corpse. Some were still in the water and debris floated around them. Others were attempting to pull the body to the safety of the banking.
Dylan’s heart sank.
‘Sorry mate; it looks like you’ve had a wasted trip,’ Sergeant Murphy said. ‘We don’t know who is he but it definitely isn’t your lass from the mortuary.’
‘Can I leave it with you, as they say, unless something suspicious is discovered,’ Dylan said.
Sergeant Murphy nodded.
Dylan looked at his watch. ‘If we’re lucky, Paul, I might just make the interview,’ he said to his colleague as they turned to leave.
Sitting in his car with a calmness of confident haste, Dylan drove back to the station. Once reinstated behind his desk his thoughts were again full of orderly rapidity that blew steadily across his consciousness, like the clouds moved by the increasing wind that battered his window.
***
The interview with Jane Simpson hadn’t started but the introductions had been made and the questioning he knew would start in earnest. He saw four people sat round the interview table on his monitor. The detectives sat opposite the defendant Jane Simpson and her solicitor.
Dylan took off his jacket and threw it over his desk. He took his pad and pen out of his nearside drawer and considering the detail of the case he began to jot down his thoughts.
‘We finished the last interview asking you why you were lying about the death of Billy Simpson in your home,’ Vicky said to Jane Simpson. ‘You have consulted with your solicitor and you have had time to think about your situation. Is there anything more you want to add to your statement?’
‘No.’
‘No?’
‘Yes.’
Vicky cocked her head but remained silent in anticipation. Her eyebrows were raised in expectation
and Detective Constable Andy Wormald’s head was bent over paperwork on the desk, his pen poised.
‘I just want to say that what I have told you is the truth. I was scared no... I was bloody terrified. I didn’t intend to kill anyone and I certainly didn’t know that it was my ex-husband until you showed me the photo.’
‘Jane, all we need you to do is tell us the truth. We can prove that what you are saying is only part of what really happened that night. What we can’t understand is why you are not telling us the rest?’ asked Vicky.
‘Are you protecting someone?’ asked Andy.
‘I’ve told you the truth. How many more times! That’s what happened,’ she said through gritted teeth.
The detectives continued to ask her questions. They allowed her the opportunity to answer and explain the things that didn’t ‘add up’ to them. But she chose not to answer. ‘No reply’ became her mantra.
Dylan was on the telephone to the Crown Prosecution Service before the detectives closed the interview.
‘You could bail her,’ the on-duty CPS officer said.
‘And that’s not going to happen,’ Dylan said, voice raised. ‘We’ve not located the murder weapon yet and a second offender is being sought. She’ll be before the Magistrates’ Court tomorrow morning for a remand in custody.’
Vicky’s chin was resting on her chest as she skulked back into the office dragging her feet on the floor. She threw her paperwork down on her desk and flopped in her chair. Andy brought her a drink from the water dispenser in a plastic cup. She drank the ice cold liquid, savouring the feeling as it hit the back of her throat. In her handbag she found a packet of Asprin and popped two in her hand before throwing them to back of her mouth, she swallowed.
‘Get her charged,’ Dylan was saying to Andy as he walked out into the CID office. ‘Copy of the remand file on my desk for tomorrow morning and do a one liner for the press office news line, Vicky.’
‘And say what?’
‘Just something brief. A thirty-eight-year-old woman will appear before the Harrowfield Magistrates’ tomorrow charged with murder. Send it to HQ press office for Claire Rose’s attention. I want you both to keep your eyes peeled in that court room. It will be interesting to see who turns up to watch. Right I have to go see a woman about a dog.’
‘Whatever,’ said Vicky.
‘No, I have really,’ said Dylan.
‘What about the body in the river?’
‘It’s looking increasing likely that it’s one of their long standing Mispers. A red herring.’
‘Herrings in the River Worth? I’ll make the press office aware of that too shall I?’
‘I do the jokes, Vicky,’ he said.
Dylan texted Jen. I’m on my way home.
I’m in shock.
Not to worry I’m a trained first aider, he replied. Start undoing your tight clothing.
Chapter Fifteen
Max bounded down the hallway all dribble and slobber. ‘Now that’s what I call a welcome home,’ Dylan said ruffling his sandy coat.
Maisy stood with the help of the coffee table and Jen clapped her hands excitedly. ‘I knew it. I just knew she was going to do that today,’ she said, gathering her up in arms and planting a kiss on her cheek.
Her phone bleeped, she picked it out of her bag and threw it back again without answering it.
‘Who is it?’ asked Dylan.
‘Penny. Again,’ she said. ‘All of a sudden she is taking a very keen interest in the crime, in Harrowfield.’
‘That’s what the job does to you, doesn’t it? It becomes a lifestyle.’
‘Well yeah, but I’m not being funny, she’s only a cleaner. It’s not like she is in the need to know bracket is it?’
‘Hey, don’t knock it. We need more like her taking an interest. That way we might get more people willing to come forward and give evidence.’
‘If I’m not supposed to know about anything Jack, then I’d rather not, so don’t tell me. Then if it becomes common knowledge you know it wasn’t me who spilt the beans.’
‘But, I trust you implicitly and you are involved, like it or not.’
‘Not now I’m not. I’m doing personnel, remember? There are enough gossips in a police station without Penny adding to it.’
‘Okay, if it makes you feel better I won’t tell you anything.’
‘It does. Anyway, I’ve got some news for you,’ she said, her eyes bright and shining.
‘Go on,’ he said.
‘Dad’s got a girlfriend?’
‘He has?’
‘Yes, they met through Vince and Jacqui who run Godshill Village Post Office on the Isle of Wight. They won ten thousand pounds last year in a national competition to develop their Post Office as a community hub. Their idea was to try and reduce isolation of older people and offer support to them. Part of that money has been used to give people access to the internet and computer training. Dad, never being backwards in coming forwards to meet people signed up.’
‘So he’s met this lady online? Your dad’s internet dating?’
‘No, not quite silly, he met her at the class.’
‘And you’re not upset?’
‘Upset? Why should I be? Dad’s on his own, three hundred miles away from us. If she makes him happy I’m pleased for them both.’
‘I think someone is feeling neglected,’ Dylan said looking at Maisy who was blowing raspberries on Max’s tummy.
‘Doesn’t need much to keep us happy, does it Maisy?’ Jen said with a smile.
***
It was eight o’clock and Maisy was tucked up in bed and fast asleep. The phone rang.
‘Is Mr Dylan there, please?’ asked the caller.
‘It’s for you,’ Jen said handing Jack the receiver.
‘Control Room, sir. I understand you’re the on-call Negotiator?’
Dylan looked about aimlessly. Jen handed him a piece of paper and a pen. ‘Go on.’
Dylan scribbled notes. ‘I’ll be expecting him sooner rather than later then,’ he said before putting the phone down. He looked across at Jen and sighed. ‘Somebody wanting to jump off the Scarbottom Bridge onto the motorway. They’re sending a traffic car for me as they’ve had to stop the traffic so they want me there as soon as...’
‘Possible,’ she said.
He got up off the sofa. ‘I’ll just go throw my jeans and a jumper on. Hopefully I’ll be back for breakfast,’ he said teasingly. But she knew there was an element of truth in his bravado.
***
Blue lights illuminating the dark skies were the first indication that the car was nearing the door. Screeching brakes and skidding tyres the next. ‘That should get the neighbours talking,’ said Dylan as he briefly kissed Jen. No sooner had he done than he was gone. The lounge felt empty and Jen bereft. She could hear sirens ebbing away in the distance.
‘Have we got a name?’ Dylan asked Control over the airways.
‘A Mr James, sir. John James, a driver working as I understand for Prestigious Funeral Directors in Harrowfield.’ Dylan held his stomach as the motion of the speeding car tossed him from side to side. They travelled along dark, narrow roads. ‘Thank you,’ he said. His voice sounded alien to him.
‘Just for your info, he’s known to us. It’s not the first time he’s been up there recently.’
‘We’ll be there as quick as it is humanly possible, or sooner if my driver has his way.’
Dylan’s advanced driver was an experienced traffic officer called Ray Green; nicknamed bullet, because he travelled everywhere at speed. As they moved away from the urban centre of Harrowfield, Ray turned his lights onto full beam. His reactions to other traffic, pedestrians and cyclists were to dip his headlights. This meant his visibility was somewhat reduced and he slightly let up on his speed at that time. Vehicles approached them with their headlights on full beam. Ray cursed. Dylan saw Ray’s eyes glance to the nearside of the road instead of into the headlights and as soon as the vehicle had passed he
returned to full beam. Bends and dips in the road were cloaked in darkness. Suddenly as they rounded a bend Ray slammed on the brakes. The car skidded dramatically but he managed to stay in control of the car. Dylan lunged forward, his seat belt dug into this shoulder and for a split second he thought he was going through the windscreen.
‘Sorry boss, bloody cat. Wife would never forgive me if I’d hit it.’
‘I think the idea is that you get me there alive, Ray. Cats have nine lives, haven’t they?’ he asked, exhaling. ‘I’ve only got one.’ His heart was pounding.
‘But the wife’s a cat lover,’ he said, naming his five cats one by one as they weaved in and out of the traffic and cautiously through a red traffic light.‘Just round this next corner boss and we’ll be at the mouth of the bridge.’
Dylan was grateful. He was not sure if his stomach would have stood much more.
‘All units,’ came the announcement over the airways. ‘We have one fatally injured male on the southbound carriageway of the motorway.’
‘Too late boss, Mr James has gone over,’ he said turning to Dylan. He slowed the car down and turned off the blue lights and the sirens.
Dylan received confirmation his services were no longer required.
‘Back home then, boss?’ PC Ray Green said matter of fact.
‘Guess so,’ Dylan said giving him a spontaneous glance of acute sadness. ‘But no rush now, eh?’ he asked.
‘Point taken. I wonder what troubles a person has that makes them intent on jumping from such a great height?’
‘Hopefully we’ll never be in such a position to know. If only they knew they might survive but be in a hell of a lot of pain for a long time or disabled for the rest of their life… I wonder if they’d still do it?’
‘It’s the poor buggers who are travelling below when the jumper gives no warning about their intention that I feel sorry for. Fortunately this time he didn’t go over straight away and they managed to stop all the motorway traffic below.’
‘One thing for sure he won’t be driving funeral cars any more. Carpe diem, Ray.’
‘Aye, that’s something this job teaches us alright, isn’t it boss? To seize the day.’
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