‘The Praying Mantis,’ said Vicky.
‘What?’ asked Dylan.
‘She gets a shag before she kills him too.’
‘Vicky, do you have be so...’
‘But I guess she’s right. Either that or she had shared the bed with someone else lately,’ said Paul.
‘You wouldn’t get me going near any of my exes for a fucking gold clock,’ sniffed Vicky.
Dylan’s facial expression didn’t change. ‘What’s your thoughts on the acting Detective Sergeant’s appraisal of this vital piece of evidence from the murder scene, DS Robinson?’
‘Rather crude, sir.’
‘Me?’ asked Vicky.
‘My thoughts exactly.’
‘So I suppose neither of you two gentlemen will want any more fucking coffee then?’ she said standing up to pour another cup from the pot. ‘I’ll be mother, shall I?’
‘What hope has she got, Paul?’ Dylan said shaking his head as he held out his cup. Vicky pulled a face.
‘We need to consider our approach to the interview with Harper if he returns…’ said Vicky.
‘When, he returns this afternoon,’ said Dylan.
‘Seeing as I’m so crude, I’ll play the hard man shall I? You can be his friend this time, boss,’ said Vicky wrinkling her nose.
Dylan’s phone rang. He picked up and listened. ‘Thanks for that,’ he said. ‘Arrange the solicitor for about an hour, will you,’ he said before replacing the receiver. ‘Speak of the devil. It’s interview time,’ said Dylan.
***
In Dylan’s experience most investigations were never straight forward and none more so than the ones they had running.
In the cell area with Vicky, he saw Derek Harper walking down the corridor to the interview room with his solicitor David Scacchetti. ‘Harper looks creepier than ever boss,’ said Vicky. ‘Like somebody off one of those old horror films coming out of the crypt,’ Vicky said, dropping her shoulder forward and dragging the opposite leg.
‘Yeah, funny. Know the solicitor?’ asked Dylan.
‘No, I don’t but wouldn’t mind, boss, he’s a bit of a dish.’
‘Talking of your conquests, you seen Eugene Regis lately?’
‘Might have but you know me I love ’em and leave ’em wanting more,’ she said with a wink.
David Scacchetti was a very smart man in a pinstripe suit. A handkerchief to match his tie sat neatly in the breast pocket of his jacket. He was clean shaven and his hair was combed away from his face. He was what was known to Dylan as a city slicker. Dylan looked forward to seeing how he received them in interview. Dylan however didn’t have to wait for a formal introduction as Mr Scacchetti came out to meet them before they began. Dylan outlined the circumstances surrounding his client’s arrest and subsequent findings and David Scacchetti told them that his client intended to fully co-operate with them as, to use his own words, ‘he says he’s done for,’ he said with a lift of his chin.
In the interview room the necessary introductions and cautions under PACE (Police And Criminal Evidence Act) were completed. They could now begin to find out perhaps, what made Derek Harper tick.
Chapter Twenty-One
Dylan opened the interview. ‘Mr Harper, we arrested you at your home yesterday for possession, publishing and distribution of obscene material. Do you understand?’
‘Yes, I do. But what I don’t understand is why? My photographs are a work of art,’ he said looking puzzled.
‘That’s a matter of opinion,’ Dylan said.
David Scacchetti gave a little cough.
‘You are aware that my officers have been searching your home?’
Derek Harper nodded.
‘Please could you say “Yes” instead of nodding your head for the purpose of voice recognition on the tape, Mr Harper,’ said Vicky.
‘Of course. Yes,’ he said.
‘Due to the discovery of a body at your address you are also under arrest on suspicion of murder.’
‘I haven’t murdered anyone. If I am guilty of anything, it’s falling in love. Have you never loved anyone Mr Dylan?’ Harper said. He was calm and even apathetic. There was no need for the officers to hurry him.
‘I’m not sure what you mean, or indeed what you expect us to interpret by that comment. Would you care to explain?’ Dylan said.
Vicky remained silent. She was watching Derek Harper with interest. Noting his body language intently, whilst listening to his response to the questions put to him.
Mr Harper sat very still with his hands in his lap. ‘It was love at first sight. She was very beautiful,’ he said.
‘Who are we talking about?’
‘Kirsty of course. Don’t pretend you didn’t notice, Detective Inspector. I know by now you’ll have been to her post-mortem and seen her naked body.’
‘We have found a body of a female in your outhouse. Are you saying to us now that this is the body of Kirsty Gallagher? If so will you explain how she got there? From the beginning would be helpful.’
Derek Harper took one deep breath and turned to look at his solicitor.
David Scacchetti gave a nod that was hardly noticeable.
‘Remember I told you that prior to working in the mortuary I worked in the graveyard?’
Dylan leaned forwarded.
‘I’ve spent most of my life surrounded by dead bodies. We kept Grandma under the window in the front room for a week.’ He tutted and stalled.
‘Go on...’
‘Some friends of mine suggested I photograph some of the bodies at work. Make some money. I knew it was wrong, but what the hell they were dead, so it wasn’t going to bother them was it?’
‘Just staying with Kirsty for a moment. When did you first see her?’ Dylan said.
‘When she came into the mortuary... Ah, she was like a breath of fresh air.’
His solicitor’s face was a picture of revulsion. He turned his head away from his client and looked towards the door.
‘Had you not met her prior to that?’
‘No. Oh, sorry I lie. I did see her in the corner shop sometimes in a morning.’
‘So you knew her then?’
‘Sort of, I guess.’
‘Did you know where she lived?’
‘Bankfield Terrace.’
‘Have you ever been to her address?’
‘No, but I pass it regular on the way to my friend’s house. Or rather I did.’ Derek Harper looked sullen. ‘Barrington, Barrington Cook. He died recently,’ he said. ‘You know I used to worry about things, the why and the how,’ he shrugged his shoulders. ‘After Barrington died I resigned myself to the fact that if things are going to happen they do. We only live once.’
Vicky looked at Dylan with questioning eyes. The Barrington Cook that they’d seen fished out of the canal?
Dylan was focused.
‘So you’ve never been inside her house?’ he asked, not taking his eyes of the prisoner.
‘Like I said.’
Dylan was puzzled. Derek Harper appeared to be enjoying the interview. He didn’t appear at all fazed.
‘Did you kill her, Mr Harper?’
Derek Harper cleared his throat and looked offended. ‘I told you the only crime I’m guilty of.’ His reply was quick and there was no further sign of emotion displayed on his face.
‘So, Kirsty was brought into the mortuary. What happened after that?’
‘Oh, she’s stunning isn’t she? I took some photos of her. Just so I could show my friends.’
Dylan and Vicky remained silent to see if he would continue talking. They were right to do so.
Derek Harper seemed to go off into a world of his own. ‘Oh, they were so jealous,’ he said. ‘She was a fit. Lovely tattoos.’
Vicky could feel her stomach flip.
‘I didn’t want to leave her alone you see. The mortuary wasn’t the place for someone like her... You know the rest.’
‘But Derek she was dead. The mortuary was the place for her
to be. It was your duty of care to treat her body with respect.’
‘I know and I did consider leaving her with my friend, Old Alfie but... it just didn’t feel right, you know...’ he said screwing up his face. ‘I know she was dead and what I did was wrong but it was a chance of a lifetime for me and I can’t deny falling for her.’
‘But she was dead,’ Vicky implored.
There was a feeling of animal excitement about Derek Harper. ‘Yes I know. I’m not stupid. But you’re missing the point. If she had still been alive she wouldn’t have come anywhere near me, now would she?’ His voice raised slightly. He sat back and folded his arms.
‘You said it wasn’t the place for her, but surely you will agree that the mortuary is the right and proper place for a corpse? You knew full well that once she was taken out of the specially temperate requirements of the mortuary her body would start to decompose, didn’t you?’
‘Yes, yes of course I knew that. That’s why I put her in the outhouse. Don’t you realise I was in-between the devil and the deep blue sea, wasn’t I? If I’d left her, I knew the next day she would have been opened up by the pathologist and totally ruined. I know what happens, her insides would’ve been thrown into a bin liner and dumped back into the chest cavity before they sewed her up, once they’d had their hands all over her. She was far too good for that.’
‘But that is the purpose of a post-mortem, to identify the cause of death. You have to all intents and purposes obstructed the Coroner in his duty and let’s face it, she ended up in your outhouse rotting. She was in a far worse state when we found her than she would have been if she had been kept at the mortuary, and her body has still had to be subjected to a post-mortem. Your reasoning just doesn’t add up.’
His stare remained fixed on Dylan’s face for some seconds and then his lip curled. ‘Yes,’ he said, nodding his head slightly. ‘I do tend to act in haste...’
‘Did you take a lot of photographs of dead bodies at work, Derek? And before you answer let me tell you we are in the process of looking at all the photographs you have stored on your computer.’
‘In that case you’ll see for yourself then, won’t you. And they are my property so I want them back.’
‘Tell me, who are these friends that you show the photographs to?’
‘Just friends.’
‘We will find out sooner or later through association,’ said Dylan.
‘Maybe you will but I won’t tell you. You may be surprised who is amongst them,’ he said cocking an eyebrow.
‘Well tell me who they are and then I’ll tell you if I am?’
‘Sorry,’ he said, shaking his head. ‘No can do. I’ve had enough!’ he said wiping the palms of his hands on his trousers. He sat up straight. ‘Back to my cell please. I’m tired,’ he said to his solicitor. David Scacchetti looked across at Dylan. Dylan nodded. It was a good time to break. Dylan terminated the interview.
***
It was only after Vicky opened the door to the interview room and Dylan felt the rush of cool air that he realised how warm it was within. A welcome gush of fresh air greeted them as they stepped into the corridor.
‘Leave the door open Vicky. It might be wise to see if they have some fresh air spray in the cell area,’ he said with a nod. Derek Harper and his solicitor were left alone.
‘He’s as nutty as a bloody fruitcake,’ Vicky muttered as they walked back to the Incident Room. ‘The psychiatrists are going to have a field day with him, aren’t they?’
‘He’s certainly a weird individual but I don’t think he’s mad. In my opinion, he knows exactly what he’s doing. I’ll arrange with the cells to get approval from his solicitor and we’ll have him examined to ensure he’s fit for interview though. I don’t doubt he is. I think he actually enjoys the attention he’s getting, but we’ll err on the side of caution just in case. We don’t want any interviews being disregarded at some future date, do we?’
‘Dread to think what his computers will reveal, boss.’
‘Time will tell. I’m interested to know who his group of friends are. He’s not alone, he’s already said as much and we have yet to ask him if anyone helped him remove the body from the mortuary. It’s early days Vicky, early days. We know Barrington was his friend so we will have to revisit his past and look at his associates to see what that tells us.’
‘Frightening to think you’re not even safe when you’re dead.’
‘Don’t worry. You won’t know anything about it. I’ve seen nurses open the windows when a person dies to allow the spirit to leave. I like that thought...’
‘That’s a bit deep for you, boss?’
‘It doesn’t do to dwell on things. We’ll find out what Harper’s game is all in good time and then, if I have my way, he’ll go away for a long, long time.’
‘Saving grace here, like you said I guess, is that Kirsty Gallagher won’t know anything about it,’ Vicky looked thoughtful as she slid into her seat opposite Dylan.
‘Now who’s being deep? Don’t get drawn into the emotion or begin to try to understand. I promise you, you never will. I won’t let anything happen to you while I’m here, don’t worry.’
‘Awh... thanks boss, I didn’t know you cared?’
‘I’m being practical. Who’d make my coffee?’ he asked with a grin.
Vicky stuck her tongue out at Dylan.
‘Let’s see what the computer geeks can tell us about Derek Harper’s weird world, shall we, but let’s have a drink first and a biscuit wouldn’t go a miss.’
‘Sexist. You shouldn’t assume I should make your coffee, the book says...’
‘I’m not sexist. I’m the boss and I’m giving you an order,’ he said pan faced and without taking his eyes of his computer screen. ‘And then ring Forensics will you and see if they’ve got an update for me.’ A grin spread across his face when she turned her back on him and left the office in silence.
‘He’d test the patience of a saint,’ said Vicky to Lisa. ‘Make a coffee for us both Lisa, will you love,’ Dylan heard her say.
‘Kettle calling pot black!’ he called after her.
Chapter Twenty-Two
‘We’ve got traces of DNA from the swabs taken from around Jane Simpson’s neck,’ said DS Robinson.
‘So Billy Simpson did try to strangle her?’ asked Dylan with a glint of optimism in his eye.
‘No, his DNA wasn’t a match.’
Dylan looked downcast.
‘But, the DNA was an exact match for hair that was found in the face mask along with Billy Simpsons. They’re just checking the national database.’
‘And if the person who it belongs to has a criminal history we’ll have a name,’ said Dylan.
Lisa walked into the office with the morning mail.
‘Get Vicky for me will you?’ Dylan said.
‘V I C K Y!’ Lisa called, at the top of her voice.
Paul put his hands over his ears. Dylan smiled at Paul Robinson. ‘I could have done that.’
‘Why didn’t you then?’ Lisa said shrugging her shoulders.
‘What’s up with her this morning?’ asked Andy.
‘I think Ned has been on the cadge again. I’ll have to have a word with him.’
Vicky strolled into Dylan’s office and sat down next to Paul Robinson. ‘Have a word with who?’ she said.
‘Ned, he’s been lifting food out of drawers in the office again.’
‘Don’t worry, I’ve got it in hand,’ she said with mischief written all over her face.
‘Why does that look worry me?’
‘Don’t ask,’ she said.
Dylan’s eyes rose to the ceiling. ‘Perhaps better I don’t know?’
Vicky nodded. ‘Absolutely, sir.’
‘I’d like you to concentrate on the Billy Simpson murder. I’m going to bring Paul into the Harper investigation. He is after all dealing with the disappearance of Kirsty Gallagher.’
‘Can’t I do both?’ Vicky pleaded.
Dylan cocked his head on one side, lying back in his chair. ‘And you know that’s not practical. Especially now you’re acting up.’
‘Okay,’ she said. ‘It would allow us both to remain focussed, I guess.’
‘What no shouting?’ he asked.
She grinned. ‘No, that makes sense.’
‘Paul will you liaise with the computer unit, see what Derek Harper’s files are telling us?’
‘Will do. By the way, I’ve revisited Kirsty Gallagher’s home and had the smoke alarm and a carbon dioxide alarm dusted and guess what?’
‘No batteries?’
‘Correct.’
‘Somebody wanted to make sure she wasn’t warned about the dangers,’ said Dylan. ‘We thought that person had also taken her body from the mortuary didn’t we, but it’s looking like that may not be the case as Harper now admits taking it.’
‘Ah, but we don’t know if he was working alone, do we boss?’ asked Vicky.
‘No, listen to the copy tape of the first interview will you Paul, before you and I go into question him. It will help you get the feel of what sort of person we are dealing with perhaps.’
Vicky turned her head towards Paul. ‘He’s an absolute weirdo.’
‘But he’s no idiot. He knows full well what he’s doing. You’ve got about two hours max Paul, before the next round of interviews. Why are you still sitting here, Sergeant Hardacre, you’ve lots to do. Find me Jane Simpson’s partner in murder,’ he said with a growl.
***
They both left his office. With a few minutes to spare, he picked his phone up and rang the home number. ‘Jen?’ he asked. ‘Sorry love, it’s going to be another late one.’
Jen was in good spirits, Penny had been and cleaned the house from ‘top to bottom’ as way of an apology she said and she had had a string of emails from her dad, Ralph. The classes were doing him the power of good and so was his new lady friend, so it seemed.
‘Jack,’ she said with more than a hint of seriousness in her voice.
‘Yes,’ he said with a frown at her tone.
‘Oh, it doesn’t matter. I’ll speak to you when you get home.’
‘No, talk to me now,’ he said. ‘What’s up?’
‘Nothing’s up, but have you got a minute?’
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