by Michael Kerr
“So do I,” Eddie said, closing the folder. “With what we’ve got and her testimony, you’re fucked, and you and Gant know it. That’s why you were at the hospital with guns instead of roses. You wanted to find out where she was and top her.”
“And don’t think that some cop on Gant’s payroll will wave a magic wand and come up with Kelly’s location,” Jack said. “There’s no bookwork. We vanished her unofficially. She doesn’t exist. New name, the works, and only a few of my squad know where she is. She can’t be got at.”
The sweat began to pop on Tyrone’s shaven scalp. He was in a fix that Gant might not be able to get him out of. “I wanna phone call,” he said. “I ain’t sayin’ another word wivout a solicitor bein’ present.”
Jack shrugged. “You do that, and it gets official. We can’t bend any rules, or try to get you out of the shit you’re in if you go down that road.”
“Meanin’?” Tyrone felt a surge of hope.
“That Gant is a big fish,” Eddie said, sitting on the edge of the desk. “You’re just hired muscle. Give him up and you could start over in Barbados or somewhere. Anything is possible.”
“What about de Lewis ting?”
“We can work around it,” Jack said. “You haven’t been charged with the kid’s murder, yet. Work with us, give us Gant’s head on a plate, and we help you disappear. Play dumb, take your chances, and I give you my word I’ll put you away for life. And that isn’t a threat, big guy, it’s a promise.”
“I need it in writin’,” Tyrone said.
“In your dreams, Tyrell. This is just between us for the time being,” Jack said. “You need to tell us everything, and then back it up in a courtroom when the time comes. If you blow it, then all bets are off. I’m going to get myself a coffee. When I come back, we start taping some meaningful stuff, or my DC here will formally charge you with the murder of Joey Lewis, and the armed assault on the doctor at the hospital. Think hard, Tyrone.”
Jack knew he had him. He went out, down the corridor to a vending machine, got a cup of black coffee and leaned against the wall and sipped at it, in no hurry to go back. Ten minutes stewing in Eddie’s company would help concentrate Tyrell’s mind on self-preservation.
“I don’t trust you pigs,” Tyrone said to Eddie.
Eddie smiled. “I don’t give a shit whether you do or you don’t. We’ll get Gant with or without you. Remember, we have Kelly. If it was up to me I’d have blown the shit out of you at the hospital. You’re only still breathing because my boss thought you might be useful. If you don’t want to give up what you know, then tell him to fuck off when he gets back. I’d rather put your black arse behind bars for twenty years than have to give you a sweet deal.”
When Jack re-entered the interview room, Tyrone was ready to make like a songbird, with one proviso.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
DC Donna Myers was in the squad room with Mike Hewson, keeping on top of the Mimic case. There was an unexpected break. The press release that Ken and Lisa had concocted was paying off.
“This is Detective Constable Donna Myers, how may I help you?” Donna said, taking an outside call on one of the incident room numbers that had been given out.
“I saw the late news about a man called Jerry Aken.”
“I need your name and number,” Donna said.
“My name is Dawn Turner...”
Donna wrote down the name, address and telephone number of the caller, even though all incoming calls were being recorded.
“And do you know Aken?” Donna said.
“No, I don’t know him. But a man calling himself Jerry Aken has been stalking me for two years.”
Donna raised her free hand in the air and wiggled her fingers to attract Mike’s attention.
Mike picked up an extension, listened in but said nothing. The female caller might be more at ease talking with another woman.
“Go on,” he mouthed to Donna, his hand over the mouthpiece.
“Stalking you, Ms Turner?” Donna said.
“Yes. He phones me and writes to me all the time. And he hurt a man I was seeing. I’ve even tried moving, but it doesn’t do any good, he always finds me.”
“Have you reported this before tonight?”
There was a hesitation. “No. He threatened me. And I knew he meant it. He killed that security guard.”
The address clicked with Donna. It was where a middle-aged guy on night duty had been murdered; his larynx had been fractured, and he’d been beaten to death with a torch.
“When did he last make contact with you?”
“Two nights ago. He said he was going away for a while. Told me that we were going to be together, one way or another. I think he plans to kill me.”
Donna could hear the tremor in the other woman’s voice. She was on the brink of breaking down, or at very least suffering a panic attack.
“You have nothing to worry about now, Dawn. You did the right thing by calling us. Lock the doors and sit tight. I’ll be there in thirty minutes. Don’t open up for anyone else. Okay?”
“Okay,” Dawn said.
“I’ll get the boss,” Mike said to Donna when the call ended. “You go start the car, and we’ll see you in the car park.”
Jack fed Tyrell with coffee and cigarettes, and the hoodlum agreed to give up Gant, big time.
“You get everytin’,” Tyrone said. “But if you wannit on tape wiv a signed statement, I need total immunity for anythin’ I might ’ave done, in writin’, an’ in the ’ands of my solicitor. If you can’t do that, then I take my chances.”
“I’ll see what I can do,” Jack said. “You’re on ice here until it’s a done deal, though.”
Tyrone grinned and flashed gold caps. “Don’t make it too long, Ryder. Randy ain’t stupid. When ‘e finds out that Sammy an’ me is missin’, ‘e’ll start closin’ doors. You get my drift?”
Jack got his drift. The implication was that Gant would go into defence mode and cover his arse by closing down anything that Tyrell and Foster knew about, and neutralise anyone considered to be a weak link.
Eddie lodged Tyrell in a holding cell six up from the one that Sammy Foster ‒ who was also going to be interviewed ‒ was lodged, sweating on what the near future might have in store for him.
Mike caught up with Jack outside the lift door.
“We got a break on the Mimic, boss. Some bird saw the news and phoned in a few minutes ago. Says a guy calling himself Jerry Aken has been on her back for about two years. And he admitted to killing the security guard outside the apartment block.”
Jack found Eddie, told him to interview Sammy Foster with Phil, but not to offer him any hard deal. Foster would be a reserve.
They left the building, and Donna drove the unmarked police car to Putney as Jack called Ken at home.
“Hello,” Sheila Maynard said through a yawn.
“It’s Jack Ryder, Sheila. I need to talk to Ken.”
Jack heard Sheila saying, “Ken, wake up. Ryder’s on the line.”
There was some coughing, and then Ken said, “What time is it?” His voice sounded like sandpaper on wood.
“Early.” It was almost four a.m.
“Okay, make it good,” Ken said.
“Two things. We lifted Tyrell and another guy at the hospital. They were about to blow away a doctor who couldn’t tell them where we’d stashed Kelly Davis. Tyrell will give us all we need to bring Gant’s operation down, but he wants immunity, on paper.”
“And you want me to sort it?”
“Yeah, Ken, and quick, before Gant even knows his goons have been lifted. We need to bring him in before he can arrange a major cover-up.”
“And the second thing?”
“Your patter on TV did the trick. We’re on our way to interview a woman who’s been stalked for two years by a creep calling himself Jerry Aken. She lives at Ogilvy House in Putney.”
“Isn’t that where the―?”
“Security guard was murdered, yeah. Aken told this wo
man that he’d done it.”
“Nice one, Jack. Get back to me when you’ve talked to her. I’ll work something out with the brass to keep Tyrell sweet. But full immunity won’t be on the table.”
“He may not give Gant up without it. He knows he wouldn’t last a week in prison.”
“Leave it with me,” Ken said and ended the call.
“It’s DC Donna Myers,” Donna said when the intercom to Dawn’s apartment was answered.
“Okay, come up,” Dawn said, pressing the button to unlock the outer door.
They used the stairs up to the first floor. Donna thumbed the bell and stood in front of the door with her warrant card held up so that Dawn could ID her through the peephole.
Dawn said nothing, just opened the door and stood back to allow Donna and Jack in. Mike had stayed in the car. They didn’t want to unnerve her with too much presence.
Jack introduced himself. “I’m Detective Inspector Jack Ryder, Ms Turner. Thank you for contacting us.”
“I wish I’d done it a long time ago,” Dawn said. “But I was too scared. He seems to know every move I make, and repeatedly warns me not to go to the police.”
“Didn’t you think―”
Dawn was distressed, nerves stretched to the limit. She snapped, “Think! Of course I fucking thought. What would the police have done if I’d reported unwanted telephone calls and letters from some nut who says he loves me? Even if you’d found out who he was, you wouldn’t have been able to help me. I’ve read about stalkers. They don’t give up. All I would have done is upset him and maybe put myself in greater danger.”
Jack agreed with her. She was right. There was still inadequate protection in law against stalkers. Unless they committed a crime, there was not much that could be done, and historically even those who had been proven a persistent menace and fined, put on probation or even imprisoned, had not been deterred.
“Any chance of some coffee?” Donna said to Dawn, to break the tension and make for a more equable atmosphere.
“Uh, sure,” Dawn said. “Take a seat, please. I won’t be a minute. How do you like it?”
“Black,” Jack and Donna both said.
“Thanks,” Jack said quietly to Donna as Dawn vanished into the kitchen. “I was a bit clumsy.”
“Not really, boss. She’s just a little unglued.”
Jack appreciated his DC’s tact. He looked around at the room he was in. It was a little stark, like his own much lowlier gaff, with little to give much insight into the life of the person who lived in it. There were a few posters on the walls advertising West End plays that Dawn had no doubt appeared in. And there was what appeared to be a TV script on the coffee table. He was drawn to a bookcase, but was disappointed to see that it was packed with biographies of actors and playwrights, and the complete works of Shakespeare. Not a pot boiler in sight.
“There you go,” Dawn said, placing two mugs on top of coasters advertising the Old Vic, before returning to the kitchen, to come back out holding a large tumbler of Scotch. The ice cubes clinked as her hand shook.
“It can only get better from here on in,” Donna said. “We’ll catch him, and he won’t be bothering you or anyone else ever again.”
“It said on the news that he has murdered other women. Is that true?”
Jack said, “Yes Ms―”
“Dawn. Please call me Dawn.”
“Okay, Dawn. Yes. This man stalks and then kills the women he targets.”
“Then why do you suppose he hasn’t killed me?”
“Because you must be special to him. I believe the others were a way for him to relieve whatever pressure he can’t control.”
“But why should I be so special to him? He doesn’t know me.”
“Maybe he does. You’re an actress, right?”
“Yes.”
“Then it could be another actor, a stagehand, lighting technician, or even someone in the audience who has fixated on you. Do you recall any fan who has regularly approached you for an autograph, or who seemed a little strange; stood out from the crowd?”
Dawn had already considered that theory. “No. I’ve been on the lookout for him for two years, and haven’t had any sense of being in his company. If it is someone that I know, then he’s very good at hiding his feelings.”
“And you’ve received letters and phone calls?”
Dawn nodded. Got up and left the room. She came back with a large carrier bag bulging with its contents.
“There are over a hundred letters here,” she said, handing it to Jack. “And a few gifts he’s sent. As for phone calls, he rings at odd times. Sometimes three or four times a week, or not at all for a fortnight. He knows where I’m appearing, where I go, and everything about me. He says he needs me and wants me, and won’t accept that I don’t feel the same toward him.”
“We need to go through this at length, Dawn,” Jack said. “To try and build as clear a picture of him as possible. I want you to talk to a lady that specialises in this sort of thing. Okay?”
“Yes. Anything that will help. I need for him to be out of my life. I know that it won’t be long before he kills me. He’ll know that you’re here now. He’ll be watching. When you leave he―”
“I won’t be leaving,” Donna said. “I’ll stay with you until we decide the best way to handle the problem.” She lifted the right side of her car coat back, and Dawn saw the butt of a gun protruding from a black leather holster clipped to a belt at her waist.
“I doubt he’ll make a house call,” Jack said to Dawn. “But if he does, Donna is the best shot on my team.” And to Donna he said, “I’ll get in touch within the hour and let you know what time I’ll be back with Dr Norton.”
“There are a few audio cassettes in there, Inspector,” Dawn said as Jack picked up the carrier bag. “I taped a couple of dozen of his calls during the first few months.”
It was getting better by the minute. They had the killer’s prime target under protection, plus letters that would sequentially give a picture of his escalating obsession with Dawn, and might give valuable insight as to what turned his wheels. And now tapes of his voice, which could be compared against any suspect they lifted.
“Back to base,” Jack said as he climbed into the passenger seat. “You’re driving, Mike. Donna is baby-sitting Ms Turner.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
EDDIE was waiting for them in the squad room. He and Phil had quickly got Sammy Foster to point the finger at Gant and Tyrell for the killing of Joey Lewis. Sammy didn’t want to go down for murder. He told them that he’d been with Tyrell, but thought that they were just going to kneecap the youth. Said he’d tried to stop Tyrell from blowing Joey’s head off, but couldn’t. And that Tyrell told him it was done on Gant’s orders; that he’d wanted the kid to be an example of what anyone who crossed the drug lord could expect if they fucked up, or tried to rob him. It was all coming together nicely.
Phil had gone off duty for a few hours’ shuteye. Eddie stayed to help Jack and Mike go through some of the letters and play the tapes. They had gloved-up; although they were positive that there would be no useful fingerprints on the letters.
While Jack and Eddie started in on the letters, Mike set up a tape deck.
The taped telephone conversations were of poor quality. Dawn had used a small recorder with an integral microphone and just held it near the receiver. It was a little crackly and very faint.
“Sounds like he’s got a sore throat,” Mike said.
“He’s putting it on, and maybe holding a handkerchief to his mouth,” Eddie said.
Jack and Eddie stopped reading and listened intently. The voice was compelling: ‘...you have to accept that we will be together, Dawn. It’s fate, my angel. I knew the second you looked out at me from the screen that we were meant for each other. I know you feel the same. We will have such a wonderful life, live in a fine house, visit every romantic corner of the world, and have a large family. Nothing and no one can keep us apart, my sweet
love. Try to understand that some things are predestined and cannot be avoided. You are mine, and...’
“The guy’s a total nutjob,” Mike said.
“Yeah, but a highly dangerous one,” Jack said. “We know just what he’s capable of, and that he understands retrieval methods. He doesn’t leave anything but what he chooses to.”
“He might put a gruff voice on and mask it,” Eddie said. “But the techies will be able to match it.”
“Only if we lift him,” Jack said. “I’ll have Lisa Norton listen to the tapes, read the letters and then talk to Dawn Turner. It will help her to profile him. Maybe narrow down the type of offender we’re looking for.”
“What about the Turner girl, boss? You think he’ll still be targeting her?” Mike said.
“Yeah. Lisa says they can’t stop. We’ll make it look as if we’re not covering her. I’ll arrange for Witness Protection to help us out. Have two armed officers inside the apartment with her at all times. If we get lucky he’ll call her again, and we can trace it while he’s feeling safe on a stolen mobile. And if he tries to get to her, we’ll take him at the scene.”
One of the phones trilled. Eddie picked up.
“It’s for you, boss,” he said, and mouthed, it’s Taylor.
Jack took the phone. “Yeah,” he said.
“What the fuck are you playing at, Ryder?”
“In regard to what, Taylor?”
“You moved the witness from the hospital without clearing it with me.”
“I don’t remember being told I had to clear anything with AMIP. I got Intel that she was going to be hit, so I put her in a private clinic. I haven’t had time to bring you up to speed, due to unforeseen events.”
“What unforeseen events?”
“Two of Gant’s boys.”
“That’s bollocks, Ryder. You moved her before they got there.”
“So my sixth sense came to the rescue. If she’d still been on a ward, they’d have capped her. I did what you should have done if you were as hotshot a cop as you try to kid yourself you are.”
“Pax. Slagging each other off won’t get the job done. Let’s work together on this, Jack.”