Reprobates

by Bridgestock, RC

  It was time for the interview. Just before they left the office Dylan was passed a piece of paper. An update from Detective Andy Wormald who was at Bryant’s flat.

  The news he hadn’t been expecting was that in Richard Bryant’s address book were Dylan and Jen’s details and also folded inside were printed documents from the police computer systems. There was a handgun under his pillow.

  ***

  Dylan felt like a coiled spring as he opened the interview room door. ‘What the hell was this bastard up to?’

  ‘This is getting fucking ridiculous,’ Richard Bryant said as he stood and approached Dylan nose to nose the moment he and Paul entered the room. ‘I’ve answered all your bloody questions,’ he said pointing his finger at Dylan.

  ‘Sit down, Mr Bryant,’ said Dylan with a voice of authority.

  Paul did the caution and opened up the questioning.

  ‘You can’t keep me locked up just in the hope I’ll admit to something that I didn’t do,’ said Bryant.

  ‘No, you’re right that would be totally wrong if you were innocent, but you’re not are you? Your vehicle has been examined and traces of blood have been found on the floor in the rear. Are we going to find that is Kirsty’s blood?’

  Bryant’s eyes were big and round but he didn’t speak.

  Paul cautioned him. ‘I also have to tell you, you are also under arrest for unlawful possession of a firearm that was recovered from beneath your pillow when we searched your home. Do you want to tell us what you are doing with it?’

  ‘I know nothing about a firearm. Perhaps the tooth fairy left it there?’

  ‘How well do you know Derek Harper?’

  He sat perfectly still. He didn’t respond.

  ‘You know, Derek Harper, the mortuary man who is presently charged in relation to taking Kirsty Gallagher’s body from the mortuary. Did you use your van to help him take Kirsty Gallagher’s body to his house from the mortuary?’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘I’m just asking you. How well do you know him?’

  ‘I’ve known Derek Harper for years.’

  ‘How do you account for the increased number of telephone calls made between you two recently?’

  ‘Did you find my phone?’

  ‘No, we found your business card with your phone number on.’

  ‘But how can you get information if you haven’t a phone?’

  ‘We just have. Tell me, was murder the ultimate challenge for you?’

  Bryant’s eyes bulged. His face looked hot. His fists clenched in his lap.

  Dylan took over. ‘So, Derek Harper... Can we now establish that he is a good friend of yours?’ he asked.

  ‘I know him.’

  ‘Did you know a Barrington Cook who lived in the same apartment block as you?’

  ‘Don’t know anyone there by that name.’

  ‘Lying isn’t easy is it Richard. You’ve got to have a good memory. Trouble is once you start the web you weave gets bigger and bigger, doesn’t it? Have you ever been to Mr Harper’s house?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Kirsty’s body was there did you know? She was photographed naked in some obscene positions and more to the point Harper wasn’t the only person present at the time. In fact someone wearing boots just like yours, was also there.’

  ‘And I suppose I’m the only person who wears boots now am I? You’re clutching at straws aren’t you? How many more times do I have to tell you? I’m not involved.’ Richard Bryant’s voice rose to a crescendo.

  The detectives ignored his outburst.

  ‘We also have fingerprint evidence that shows Derek Harper has been in your van. How do you explain that, Richard?’

  Richard Bryant shook his head in short jerky movements. ‘I’m not denying he has, probably at one time or another.’

  ‘We now have the phone activity, the blood staining in your van, fingerprints, evidence linking you to Kirsty Gallagher’s home... I wouldn’t call that clutching at straws would you? Not only are you involved but you’re one of the main players in this crime aren’t you? So why not save us all time and try being honest about it. Why did Kirsty Gallagher have to die?’

  ‘Just fucking charge me if you’ve got so much on me.’

  ‘Why are you angry? Are you angry with yourself because you thought you’d covered your tracks?’

  ‘I’m not involved. How many more times do I have to tell you? I’m not answering any more questions.’ Bryant crossed his arms across his stomach and sat back in his chair letting his head fall to his chest. He closed his eyes.

  ‘Was killing someone and getting away with it the ultimate challenge for you? But now you’ve been caught,’ said Dylan. ‘Why do you have my name and my wife’s name in your address book?’

  He made no response.

  The interview was terminated.

  ***

  Dylan was satisfied, they had enough to charge him in connection with Kirsty Gallagher’s murder and the subsequent involvement of removing her body from the mortuary. Paul did the necessary. He informed Lin Perfect, Bryant’s solicitor that depending what came back from the lab Dylan was hoping that he would be able to charge him with the joint murder of Billy Simpson. Now Dylan needed to catch up with Vicky to see how things were progressing.

  There was a lot of issues bugging Dylan about Richard Bryant and the two enquiries. Maybe the team and their partners would enlighten him further in the next briefing.

  Back in his office he shoved his paperwork to the side. Urgent or not, he wasn’t in the mood for mundane routine. He saw Vicky in the Incident Room and shouted her name.

  ‘You called?’ she asked as she stood leaning against his door frame.

  ‘You penned anything for that promotion application of yours yet?’

  ‘I have actually,’ she said. ‘I don’t know how good it is though.’

  ‘Fetch it me. I want to look, if you’ve got a minute?’

  ‘Have I?’ Vicky said as she scurried away. Minutes later she was back with her document. ‘I’ll get the coffee whilst you’re casting an eye, shall I?’

  He picked up the red biro. ‘No, not the red pen boss, please not the red pen,’ she cried theatrically. Laughing she closed the door and left him alone. There was an art to writing a promotion application and experience was essential. The specific role profile for the job needed to be covered in the applicant’s document otherwise it wouldn’t achieve the paper sift stage.

  Dylan was quite relaxed when it came to writing applications. He smiled to himself as he thought of the time when he was interviewing for a surveillance motorcyclist to work with the crime squad. Undercover work, but the ability to ride at excessive speed on occasions meant it was a dangerous job and needed officers with specific skills and experience. People in interviews, he found would say things that they thought you wanted to hear, as in this specific case. ‘If you told me to go through a red light boss, I would,’ said one interviewee. Totally the wrong thing he wanted to hear. Safety was always paramount.

  Many applicants owned their own motorbikes and knew everything there was to know, including being able to strip them down and put it back together wearing a blindfold – he never failed to be impressed with their expertise. Experienced riders all of them on this occasion though except one, who for some unknown reason hadn’t been. This officer confessed that having worked in the cell area for a number of years, he fancied a change of scenery. The candidate once owned a Honda 50 motorcycle when he was sixteen years old but never ridden since, he said on his application. Dylan had checked the date on the form wondering if it might be April Fool’s day or a wind up? It wasn’t. The officer was genuine and would, “agree to take lessons”. Feeling as though he would probably need to brush up on his skills.’ Dylan had let him down gently on that particular occasion.

  By the time Vicky had walked back in with the coffee Dylan was two thirds of the way through her application.

  ‘Bloody hell, boss, I thought you’d cut you
r hand,’ she said lifting his hand from the paperwork.

  ‘It’s not as bad as it looks. I’ve just reworded it. You need to write it from a sergeant’s perspective,’ he said inviting her to sit opposite him. He passed the papers over the desk. ‘Now, you have a read of that and let me know what you think. Don’t just agree with my alterations. It’s your application remember not mine.’

  Vicky studied the suggested amendments carefully. She could see that where she had put things like ‘I was involved’ he had changed the wording to read, ‘I took charge.’ Which was true. ‘It’s good,’ she said. ‘Let them try to paper sift that. Thanks, boss,’ she said with a smile. She started to rise from her chair.

  ‘I want to see it again when it’s typed up,’ Dylan said. ‘And check it. You would be surprised how many people don’t check their application for typing errors or spelling mistakes. Remember typists are human too,’ he said.

  ‘Will do.’

  ‘Jump one hurdle at a time. Get through the paper sift then it’s onto the role playing and interviews. You can do it, so get positive.’

  ‘Give us a shout if you want any help with yours, boss,’ she said.

  His look gave her his answer.

  There was a knock on the door.

  ‘Sir,’ said Paul. ‘I think there is something that you should know.’

  ‘Go on,’ said Dylan. Paul’s serious tone cast a dark shadow over his face.

  ‘You’re not going to believe this but we’ve found a photo of Penny Sanderson, the cleaner, with Richard Bryant at his home address... And there’s more, he has Warfarin, rat poison amongst his drugs next to a bag of knuckle bones.’

  Dylan stopped what he was doing. ‘He doesn’t have a bloody dog... but I do. My God, that might explain a few things. Are you absolutely sure?’

  ‘I’m sure, sir. Do you think the cleaner’s involved?’

  ‘I’d have said I’d bare my arse on the Town Hall steps if Penny was involved in anything sinister but...’

  ‘Oh my God,’ said Vicky. ‘She needs to be spoken to as a matter of urgency.’

  ‘Uniform are at her home but she’s not answering,’ said Andy.

  Dylan rolled his sleeves back. ‘No, that’s because she’s probably already at our house by now. I’m supposed to be at Prego...’ he looked at his watch. ‘She’s babysitting Maisy.’

  Both Paul and Vicky looked to Dylan for direction. He picked up his mobile phone.

  ***

  Jen meanwhile was standing talking to Vittorio at the bar. Her phone vibrated. She picked it up and read the message before tossing it in her bag.

  ‘Delayed?’ asked Vittorio, who was in his shirt sleeves drying glasses. ‘That man of yours, he works too hard, amica. Like him,’ he said casting his eye in the direction of a man sitting at the table in the corner who was working on his laptop.

  ‘So tell me something I didn’t know,’ said Jen. Vittorio the manager shrugged his shoulders. ‘Never mind we will look after you until he gets here won’t we, Lidia?’ he asked, flicking his head in the direction of the owner who was making her way from the restaurant. Lidia had the biggest, friendliest smile on her face. She reached out to hug Jen.

  ‘Oh no,’ she said sharing glances with Vittorio over Jen’s shoulder. ‘Prosecco is called for here I think Vitto, to cheer our friend up,’ she said.

  ‘Sounds like a plan,’ said Jen with a smile.

  ‘Salute!’ the ladies said in unison as they raised their glasses.

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Dylan was in his car driving with the speed and experience of someone who had been making instant response calls to police related incidents for a number of years. The unmarked CID car with Vicky and Paul in it followed his vehicle also at speed. They rode as close as safety allowed on his tail lights. Dylan sped down the country lanes of the Sibden Valley under the darkness of the cloudy sky. The heater was blowing warm air to clear the windscreen. Dylan’s eyes felt dry and burned as unblinking he concentrated hard on the twists and turns of the long, dark country road ahead.

  It was nearly half past eight when Dylan’s car reached the driveway of the house. His heart that under extraordinary police related circumstances stayed calm started to beat erratically in his chest. The lights in the house were on and everything appeared as normal. As Dylan got out of his car the CID car pulled in behind him. Dylan looked back at his colleagues as he walked down the pathway. As he put his key in the door he felt a tremor inside. Maisy could be heard sobbing. He felt a moment of relief. Max raced down the stairs to greet him. Instinct told Dylan that Maisy and Penny were upstairs. He grabbed hold of the handrail and raced up the stairs two at a time. Vicky and Paul with a well-practiced search sweep checked all the rooms downstairs. Dylan pushed open the door to the nursery and found Penny sitting with Maisy on her knee, reading a book. His daughter’s sobbing ceased. Relief overwhelmed him but the mask of the detective served him well. Maisy had her dummy in her mouth. At first she blinked her eyes unbelievingly at seeing her daddy standing before her. Her lashes were wet. Then a big grin spread across her face. She spit the dummy out and sat upright on Penny’s knee. She reached up to him.

  ‘Jack,’ Penny said, her pale white face looked startled. ‘What are you doing here? Jen’s waiting for you at Prego.’

  ‘Shall I take her?’ he asked quietly, reaching out for Maisy.

  ‘No, I can manage. I was just going to get her teething gel. She will be fine once I’ve found...’ she said as she struggled to get to her feet from the low seat with Maisy in her arms. Dylan put his hands swiftly out for Maisy and pulled her to him before Penny could protest further.

  ‘When I find the gel,’ she said, opening the top drawer of the dresser and fumbling around frantically. Shuffling footsteps could be heard climbing the stairs and Penny looked over Dylan’s shoulder. She saw Vicky at the doorway and Paul behind her.

  ‘What’s happening?’ she said.

  ‘I want you to come with us,’ said Vicky stepping inside the nursery. ‘We need to ask you some questions Penny about a serious matter. Probably down at the station would be best.’

  ‘What questions?’ she said looking bewildered. ‘Can’t we do it tomorrow? I’m looking after Maisy. Can’t you see that?’ she said looking backwards and forwards to her, then Dylan.

  ‘It’s quite urgent, Penny,’ said Vicky. ‘And if you’re wondering where your boyfriend Richard Bryant is, he’s locked up for murder.’

  ‘I’ll look after Maisy. Penny you go with them,’ Dylan said holding his daughter close.

  ‘Richard? But he wouldn’t hurt a fly. What’s all this about, Jack? Am I being arrested?’

  ‘No, not at this moment in time, but I think it’s best we talk at the station,’ said Vicky.

  Penny willingly went with the officers.

  ‘I don’t see how I can help you,’ he heard her say as they went down the stairs.

  ***

  Dylan found Jen in the lounge area of Prego. She was sitting laughing surrounded by Vittorio, Lidia, Kelly, Sarah and Eugene Regis.

  ‘Dylan! They all know Eugene and he knows you and Maisy? Maisy? What are you doing here?’ she said jumping off her stool. A little unsteadily she walked towards Dylan and held her arms out for her daughter.

  ‘Eugene,’ Dylan said with a nod of his head.

  ‘He’s been telling me all about him and Vicky...’ she said with a puzzled look on her face. ‘She’s a dark horse. She never said she was going out with him. Where’s Penny?’ she said looking over his shoulder towards the door. ‘Is everything alright?’ she whispered.

  Dylan reached for Jen’s hand and when he found it he squeezed it tightly. His face was serious.

  ‘I’ll get you a drink, amico,’ said Vitto. ‘You look as if you could do with one.’

  ‘Let me take the little one,’ said Lidia. Used to Lidia, Maisy was happy to be carried off to the foyer of the Waterfront Hotel anticipating with excitement the attention she knew she wo
uld get there from the staff.

  ‘Jen, we need to talk,’ said Dylan. ‘Excuse us Eugene, Vittorio.’

  ‘Of course.’

  ‘If you need me?’ Eugene said to Dylan.

  ‘Thank you,’ he said.

  ‘If you would like to come this way, sir. Your table is ready for you, Mr Regis,’ Vittorio said.

  ***

  Jen looked flushed. Her chin quivered; her knees shook. ‘Could I have a drink of cold water, please?’ she said as Kelly who was behind the bar brought a glass of Jack Daniel’s and Coke and placed it on the table in front of Dylan. Dylan gently withdrew his hand from Jen’s and placed two hands upon either side of her face. He gathered her towards him and held her close. ‘I think you’d better sit down,’ he said gently. ‘I have something to tell you.’ The couple sat facing each other. Dylan now held both Jen’s hands in his.

  As if in slow motion, on hearing what he was telling her, Jen closed her eyes and breathed in deeply. She was quite clearly not able to comprehend what he told her. He could only watch her chest rise and fall quickly as her face gave away nothing. Dylan talked on. He leaned towards her seeing her distress and eventually held her tightly when he’d finished. Her head fell on his shoulder. He saw her open her eyes wide and look up into his face. The light threw a faint shadow, so that her forehead and eyes seemed more dim and elusive than her mouth. Jen said nothing but she didn’t take her eyes off him. Neither of them saw the waitress approach them with the glass of cold water. Jen was paralysed and voiceless. Her lashes wet.

  Dylan took the glass from Kelly’s outstretched hand and held it to Jen’s lips. Some of the water ran down her chin onto her neck. Jen put her hand up to catch it and Dylan offered her his handkerchief.

  ‘She okay? Can I get you anything else,’ said Kelly.

  ‘She’ll be fine, thanks. We’ll be fine,’ said Dylan.

  It was all beginning to make sense to Jen. All the attention Penny had been showing in Dylan’s work. But she could never forgive her for the danger she had put them in.