The Stalker's Song

by Georgia Brown

  ‘I was ill. I told you. Couldn’t even get out of bed, never mind get on a plane,’ he went on examining his nails.

  ‘Why did you buy the ticket in the first place?’ asked DI Phillips.

  ‘You won’t believe me,’ he sighed and looked up at DI Phillips. ‘I knew from Julia that Carol was going to be on her own out there. I was concerned for her. I wanted to be nearby in case she needed me.’

  ‘Let me tell you my theory,’ said DI Phillips. ‘You’ve been stalking your wife. That’s not in dispute. You’ve told us about sitting outside her house and watching her. You were obsessed by her and after her husband died, you went to her house to see her. But she rebuffed you. You got into her house, covertly - not difficult for you with your skill set. In her absence, you installed surveillance equipment. You found out she was going to Barbados and you knew she’d be on her own. That’s when you bought your airline ticket. But then, you had second thoughts. Decided it was silly to use your own name. Too traceable. So, through your contacts you obtained a false passport. Am I correct so far?’ he asked, looking at Harrison, There was no response. ‘You carried out a reconnaissance, from the beach, and took your opportunity to get into her apartment when she left to see her step daughter into her taxi.

  I don’t think your plan was to kill her, but when she rebuffed you again and fought back, you lost your temper and did this to her.’ Slowly, one by one, he laid the crime scene photographs in front of Harrison.

  Harrison’s face drained of colour as he examined them. He pushed them away, whispering. ‘No. No. I couldn’t do that to her. I would never hurt her.’ He put his head in his hands and began to sob. Eventually, he raised his ravaged face and, in a strangled voice, told them, ‘I still love her. I fucking LOVE her. How could I ever do that to her?’ he gestured at the photographs.

  ‘You had the motive; she spurned you. You had the opportunity and no alibi. The means – as a former SAS soldier, you were resourceful. In addition to that, you have a history of stalking her and mentally abusing her during your marriage.’ The DI gathered up the photographs as he spoke. ‘It doesn’t look good.’

  ‘I’ll tell you something,’ Harrison said, his voice shaky but intense, ‘I hope I find the bastard that did that to her, before you do. I know how to deal with fucking scum like that.’

  ‘You won’t be able to do much from a police cell. By the way, we’re processing the DNA taken after your arrest. Let’s see if we have a match with DNA taken at the scene.’ The DCI stood to his full height.

  Rubbing his chin, he continued. ‘We’ve read the reports of your interview last night. This claim that you were following someone else seems a bit thin. There was no evidence anyone else was around. Not a footprint. Not a shadow. Seems to me, you were trying to finish the job you started in Barbados. I advise you to get yourself a solicitor, because you’re going to need a good one.’

  CHAPTER FIFTY-ONE

  He’d heard tiny noises behind him as he made his way into the Dene, and as a precaution, had slipped off the track and hidden behind a large oak, silently waiting. Sure enough, before long he’d heard footsteps and sensed, rather than saw, a dark shape pass. He’d abandoned his mission and then driven around for a while to see if anything happened.

  When, from the safety of his car parked half way up the street, he’d seen someone bundled into the police car outside Carol’s house, he was intrigued. Was that her ex? It looked like him. He laughed all the way home. If that was him, the wanker had done him a favour.

  But, seriously, they must have been waiting for him. How had they been expecting his visit? Thinking it through, he came to the conclusion that they must have put surveillance in place, following his earlier aborted visit. Also, the fact that he’d heard no mention of anything untoward in his eavesdropping, led him to the conclusion that they could have found his cameras and were playing him. The bastards had set him up.

  Assessing the potential damage, he immediately got rid of his car, before hiring another, using an alias. Now there was no link.

  It was time for the final push.

  CHAPTER FIFTY-TWO

  Tim put the address in his SatNav and, following the verbal instructions, took the exit for South Shields after leaving the Tyne Tunnel. He pulled into a wide street, lined with cherry trees, bare now in the depths of winter. Drawing up in front of a smart, two-storey block of flats, the voice told him, “Your destination is on your left” and then “You have reached your destination.”

  He walked up the path, towards a wide, red-painted door, flanked on either side by boxes of winter-flowering pansies. He pressed the bell and heard it echoing within the flat. Before long, the door was opened and he was face to face with a man of around thirty-five. Tim studied him, taking in his build, which bordered on heavy. Dark, curly hair, swarthy skin, sporting a five o’clock shadow.

  The man looked at him. ‘Can I help you?’

  ‘Dan Smithson?’ Tim asked in his measured voice.

  ‘Yes, what can I do for you?’ Smithson had a look of polite enquiry on his face.

  ‘I’m Tim Lawrenson. I’ve just been appointed as your Landlord’s agent and wondered if you could spare me a few moments? My apologies, I should have rung you before calling, but I was in the area and took a chance on you being in,’ he improvised.

  ‘I see. Good to meet you.’ Smithson extended his hand, smiling.

  Tim shook his hand. ‘Mrs Barrington’s asked me to do an initial survey of her property portfolio. Check on the condition of the properties. Find out if any repairs are required. That sort of thing. I wondered if it would be convenient for me to have a look around?’

  ‘Oh. I’m terribly sorry, I’m afraid you’ve caught me at a bad time. I was just about to go out. I’ve got an appointment. Any other time, by arrangement, would be fine.’ he said, checking his watch.

  ‘Not a problem. Can you just confirm there are no outstanding maintenance issues that you’re aware of, at the moment? No? Very well, I’ll call soon and arrange a convenient time to do a proper inventory. Sorry to have bothered you.’

  ‘No bother at all. Good to have met you.’ They shook hands again, before Tim turned and walked back down the path.

  On the drive back through the Tyne Tunnel, Tim was looking forward to putting Carol’s mind at rest about Dan Smithson. He could understand why she’d mistaken Terry Archer’s photograph for Dan Smithson. There was a resemblance. Similar sort of build, and the same thick, dark, curly hair. Similar features. But he definitely was not Terry Archer.

  He reached Jesmond, and before long drew up on the gravelled drive. He’d rung ahead to say he was on his way, and Carol answered the door within seconds of him ringing the bell.

  ‘Were you waiting behind the door?’ he asked, amused. He gave her a brief hug and a peck on the cheek as he entered the hallway. ‘I’ve just come from South Shields.’ They were walking into the sitting room and she turned to him.

  ‘I know you have. You just told me on the phone. Stop teasing. What did you find out? Is it Terry Archer?’

  ‘You can relax, Dusty,’ he said, placing his hands on her shoulders and looking into her eyes. ‘Your Mr Smithson is definitely not Terry Archer, so that’s one less thing for you to worry about.’

  She breathed an audible sigh of relief. ‘Thank goodness for that. Tell me exactly what was said.’

  ‘I introduced myself as your agent and asked if I could inspect the property. He was very polite, but said it wasn’t convenient. He was going out. I can see why you thought that the photograph of Terry Archer was of him; there’s a definite likeness there. Same sort of hair.’

  ‘Oh, what a relief. I feel such a fool. Thank you SO much for checking for me. You must think I’m unhinged. Come to think of it, I probably am.’

  He laughed. ‘Not at all, darling. Well, maybe just a bit. But at least that puts that fear to bed for you. I’ll keep in touch, but if you need anything in the meantime, you know
where I am, just call me. I need to get to the office now. Take care.’

  He hugged her again, before leaving. ‘See you again soon, Dusty.’

  CHAPTER FIFTY-THREE

  In the office allocated to DCI Brown and DI Phillips, courtesy of Newcastle Central, Gayle was chatting with the two detectives when the door opened and Superintendent Jensen popped his head around it. He entered and plonked himself on the edge of a desk.

  ‘How’s the investigation coming along?’ he asked. ‘Any progress?’

  ‘The evidence is mounting against Saul Harrison,’ said DCI Brown, who was sitting on the edge of the desk opposite. ‘We’re going to put what we’ve got to the DPP in Barbados if the DNA results are a match. Let’s hope they are. That would clinch it.’

  ‘What if the DNA doesn’t match?’ asked the Superintendant, biting on some hard skin on the side of his finger.

  ‘We hope it does. But if not, we’ve got circumstantial and will keep digging. If we can place him in Barbados, we’re home and dry. He may have travelled on a false passport, maybe via another island, so it’s a bit like looking for a needle in a haystack, but the team back home are on it. We know, from the tickets your people found, that he was intending to go to Barbados while his ex-wife was there. We think he changed his mind about using tickets in his own name.’

  ‘If he does turn out to be your perp,’ said Gayle, ‘the profile of a predatory stalker doesn’t quite fit - in that his victim is known to him and professes to be in love with her,’

  Louis turned to her. ‘I guess these psychiatrists don’t always get it right, Gayle.’

  ‘Well, if you do have enough to charge him,’ Mike Jensen said, ‘we certainly won’t object to extradition. Your case trumps ours. By the way, how’re you enjoying the cold weather? Bit of a shock to the system, I should think, after Barbados.’

  CHAPTER FIFTY-FOUR

  Sitting at the desk in my office at home, I was trying to focus on an email I was composing to a Japanese company relocating to Tyneside in three months time. I was determined to get back to work, and had accepted a new commission with them. Surely, I thought, by then this will all be resolved? I needed the discipline of work. My injuries were practically healed now, and the stronger I got, the more I was going stir-crazy hanging around the house. The terror at being stalked had settled down into a permanent feeling of dread, deep in my belly. True to her word, Gayle kept a close eye on me and I knew help was just the press of a button away, should anything happen.

  Although I tried to insist, Fiona refused to leave me and return to Barbados. She confessed that things still weren’t too good between her and Simon, since he’d pointed the finger at her brother. An act of treachery she was finding hard to forgive. She had tried to persuade me to go shopping with her at the Metrocentre, a huge shopping mall in Gateshead but although I was tempted, I really needed to work on the new commission.

  The phone on the desk rang and I picked it up, impatiently, keen to get back to wording my email. It was Dan Smithson. I groaned inwardly.

  ‘Hi Carol, sorry to bother you, but it’s an emergency. Water’s pouring into the kitchen from the flat above. It’s coming through the light fitting. I’m worried about the electrics and the ceiling’s beginning to bulge. I didn’t know if it was you I should ring, or your new Agent, but I don’t have his number.’

  Shit I thought. I was the only person with a key to the first floor flat, currently empty. I would have to go straight over there. I knew from past experience the damage water can do to property. Why oh why hadn’t I sorted out a real Managing Agent?

  ‘This is ironic,’ James continued, ‘coming so quickly after his visit. I no sooner tell him that everything is hunky-dory, when this happens.’

  ‘I’ll deal with it,’ I said quickly. ‘Tim is away at the moment,’ I improvised. ‘I’ve got a spare key to the upstairs flat,’ I got up from the desk, ‘I’ll call a plumber and come straight over.’

  ‘I’ve already called him. I hope that’s ok? I still have his number from when he installed the new boiler.’

  ‘Right.’ I reluctantly closed my laptop. ‘I’ll leave now and be there in about half an hour.’ I put my phone down and hurried to the bedroom to change into my boots and put on a warm jacket. I scribbled a quick note for Fiona, leaving it on the hall table. Just then, Pauline turned up, and insisted on coming with me once I’d outlined the problem.

  ‘Have you run it by Gayle? she asked. ‘You know she’s warned you to be extra vigilant and to let her know if you’re meeting anyone.’

  ‘But... oh, I suppose you’re right. This is awful, having to be wary of practically everyone I know.’ In my hurry to get over there and prevent the ceiling caving in, I’d momentarily overlooked the need to be cautious. I picked up my phone and got through to Gayle and explained the situation.

  ‘I’ll have to go over there, Gayle. The upstairs flat is empty just now, and I’m the only one with a key. The last time one of my tenants had a water leak from the premises above, it ended up with the ceiling coming down. Cost a fortune. Huge insurance claim. Pauline’s going with me. I’m sure everything will be ok.’

  ‘Well, just to err on the side of caution, Carol, I’m going to ask a couple of the South Shields lads to accompany you. They’ll meet you at the flat. Better safe than sorry, although in the light of recent events, I’m not sure you are in any further danger.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Actually, I was planning to come to see you later today. I understand the Barbados officers are close to charging Saul Harrison with the attack on you in Barbados. Some fresh information has come to light, which has convinced them he could be responsible, although their enquiries are still on-going. I’ll talk it through with you when I see you later.’

  I was dismayed. So, it looked as though it might be Saul after all. I felt sick. After that bizarre night, a week ago, when Saul was arrested, things had been very quiet at home. An uneasy peace had settled over the house. The security paraphernalia had been left in place, as had the surveillance cameras. The security lights continued to be checked daily. Saul was still in custody. Gayle told me he’d been interrogated about the events in Barbados, and had no alibi for a few days either side of the attack. He claimed he was ill and in bed for almost a week, but didn’t have anyone who could corroborate this. Everything seemed to be in limbo. Now, it looked as though he was going to be charged with attacking me.

  ‘Are you still there, Carol?’ Gayle’s voice came over the phone.

  ‘Yes, I’m here. Just trying to take it in.’ I shook my head.

  CHAPTER FIFTY-FIVE

  On the drive to South Shields, I talked things through with Pauline. We’d been friends for a long time, since school, and she’d known Saul for as long as I had.

  ‘Do you really think Saul’s capable of doing that to me?’ I asked her.

  She took a deep breath. ‘I wouldn’t have said so,’ she said, slowly. ‘But... I’m not really surprised, if that makes sense? There was always a dark side to him. Sinister even. I used to hate the way he treated you. Always putting you down. Making everything your fault. He could be an absolute shit.’ She glanced at me. ‘And if the police are going to charge him, they must be pretty sure he did it,’ she added.

  ‘I never realised you felt that way about him. I mean, I knew you didn’t like him much, but still... I wonder what new evidence they’ve found?’

  We drove in silence for a while, in the dimness of the Tyne Tunnel, each lost in our own thoughts.

  ‘What’s this tenant like?’ Pauline asked, as we exited the tunnel.

  ‘Well, I’ve always found James to be a decent guy. Likeable. But a bloody nuisance. Always wanting something done at the flat. I’ve kept meaning to appoint a managing agent, to keep him out of my hair. I bloody wish I had. Still, it’s hardly his fault this time.’

  After taking the eastbound slip road, I turned the car in the direction of South S
hields town centre.

  ‘I feel a bit ashamed, and stupid, that I suspected him of being a murderer.’ I glanced at Pauline, and pulled a face.

  ‘And a stalker,’ she laughed. ‘Seriously, though, there’s so much turmoil in your life just now, I think you’d suspect even the Pope of being a murderer, if he was in the vicinity.’

  ‘I would not,’ I said, indignantly. ‘He doesn’t speak good English.’

  ‘Is this guy married?’ she asked, as I slowed the car to turn into the tree-lined road towards the flats.

  ‘No, single. I’m not sure if he’s been married, but he’s got two kids. He works from home as some kind of IT consultant. That’s why he needs a two-bedroom flat. He uses the second bedroom as an office, and it doubles as a bedroom for his girls when they visit.’

  I parked on the road outside the flat, and looked around. There was no sign of the police, so we sat in the car for a few minutes, waiting. James must have seen us from his window, and came to the front door.

  ‘Is that him? Mmm... looks a bit of alright,’ muttered Pauline. ‘I wouldn’t say no.’

  ‘Let’s just go in,’ I suggested. ‘He’ll wonder why we’re just sitting here while his ceiling’s in danger of collapsing. The police won’t be long, I’m sure.’

  We walked up the short path to the front door. The tubs flanking either side of the step were brimming with winter-flowering pansies, and looked glorious. James was on the doorstep and greeted us with a friendly smile.

  ‘Hi, this is a friend, Pauline. Pauline, James.’ I looked at him as they shook hands. He looked different; his dark curls were gone, replaced with a very short style. His hair even looked lighter.

  ‘Been having your hair cut? Suits you. Makes you look younger.’

  He preened, running a hand over his head, apparently pleased at the compliment. ‘It was starting to thin a bit. Thought I needed a change. Come on through. The plumber hasn’t arrived yet, but he should be here any minute.’