The Stalker's Song

by Georgia Brown

  It was gone seven when they arrived, and, as they made their way across a poorly-lit car park, Gayle hoped the residents hadn’t yet retired for the night. She’d phoned ahead and made the manager aware they were on their way, so she presumed Mrs Wilkinson would have been kept up in any event.

  They were eventually admitted into the building after pressing the bell and waiting for what seemed like ages for someone to come to the door. The Manager, a slim lady of medium height, neat in a fitted, blue dress, introduced herself and asked them to call her Marianne. She had a warm smile, and Gayle got the impression she’d be kind to her charges.

  ‘It’s coming up to bedtime for the residents,’ Marianne told them, ‘so Mrs Wilkinson’s quite tired, and on top of that, she’s not a well lady. I understand that your questions can’t wait until tomorrow morning, but can I ask that you try not to tire her too much?’

  ‘Of course. We won’t keep her too long,’ Gayle assured her.

  They followed Marianne through to the residents’ lounge, where a number of elderly people were seated in a wide semi-circle, either asleep with their heads slumped on their chests, or watching Emmerdale, which was blaring out from the TV. Gayle thought it quite depressing and hoped fervently that she didn’t end up in a place like this, no matter how kind the staff.

  Marianne pointed out a frail-looking lady, sitting in a wheelchair near the window, staring into space. Her knees were covered by a pink woollen blanket which she was clutching with thin, bony fingers. She looked up as Marianne put her hand on her shoulder and bent to speak to her.

  ‘Maud, these are the two ladies I told you about. They want to speak with you. Is that alright? I’ll just take you through to next door, so you can talk in private. They want to ask you a few questions. Nothing to worry about. They’ve come down from Newcastle just to see you, so be nice to them.’

  There was no response from Maud. Turning to Gayle, as she grasped the wheelchair handles, Marianne whispered ‘She can be quite obtuse and bad-tempered at times, so try not to upset her.’ She walked ahead of them, steering the wheelchair through wide double doors that led into an adjoining, smaller room, with pale walls and parquet flooring. She tucked Mrs Wilkinson’s blanket snugly around her before turning to leave.

  ‘I’ll just be out here, if you need me,’ she added, before closing the double doors behind her.

  Gayle made the introductions and asked Maud if she minded answering a few questions. She looked confused, but nodded her assent and Georgia pulled a couple of dining chairs nearer to the wheelchair.

  ‘Mrs Wilkinson, can you tell us when you last saw your son, Justin?’

  She may have looked frail, but when she replied, Gayle was amazed to hear a surprisingly firm voice with a strong cockney accent.

  ‘Haven’t seen him for years. Not since he inherited his father’s money. Never gave me a penny... I’m his old mum, and he couldn’t even spare a penny for me. Always was a selfish little bastard. Never visited me since I come in here, not once.’ She set her mouth in a thin, hard line; she looked angry and her tone held more than a touch of bitterness.

  ‘So, do you have any idea where he could be now?’ Gayle asked her.

  With a withering stare, she replied, ‘None at all. I’ve just told you I haven’t seen him for years.’

  ‘Why did Justin leave the area, Mrs Wilkinson, do you know?’

  ‘He was always a closed book. We was never close. His father didn’t hang around long after he was born. He was something big in the city, you see, and someone common like me wasn’t good enough for him. But, give him his due, he provided for Justin and kept in touch with him.’ She had a faraway look in her eyes as she went down memory lane.

  ‘I married Chris Wilkinson when Justin was eight. From the start, Justin took a dislike to Chris, and made life as difficult as he could for us all. He was a sly little shit. Always causing trouble.’

  Gayle tried to interrupt, but Mrs Wilkinson continued her monologue, unabated.

  ‘A year later, along come his half-brother, Rob. Justin’s behaviour got worse. The last straw came on Rob’s second birthday. Justin took his new puppy into the back yard and beat and kicked it so hard, the poor thing had to be put to sleep. I couldn’t take no more. That’s when Justin’s father sent him to boarding school, down in Kent. Much to our relief. He was a bright kid. Had an aptitude for computers. And electronics. After finishing school, he went to Glasgow University - did electronic engineering. Became a lecturer at University College, London. By then he was living in the city centre and we never saw him.’

  ‘And do you know why he moved north, Mrs Wilkinson?’ Gayle prompted her, thinking she was surprisingly talkative for a tired, sick old lady. She needed her to get to the point.

  ‘I’m coming to that. I never knew why he moved north. Never did tell us why. He was the educated one of the family and we always knew we weren’t good enough for him; just like his father in that respect. It was around the time his dad died and left him the money that he moved away.’ She closed her eyes, and rested her head on the back of her chair.

  Gayle thought she’d dozed off, but she suddenly opened her eyes and said ‘His brother’s a different kettle of fish, he’s a good boy. Comes to see me when he can. Loves his old mum. He’s a good boy; nothing like Justin.’ She picked abstractedly at the pink blanket.

  ‘Ah yes, his brother. Rob, isn’t it? Is he in touch with Justin, do you know?’

  ‘He might be, but if he is, he never mentions it to me. He knows it upsets me to hear his name.’ She paused. ‘How do you know Rob then?’

  ‘I was involved with the case about five years ago when one of Justin’s students was murdered, do you remember that? Rob told us he was with Justin on the night of the attack.’

  She looked up sharply. ‘They never told me much about it,’ she said defensively, worrying the blanket again. ‘Nasty business from what little I knew.’ Gayle wondered then if she’d harboured any suspicions at the time.

  ‘Different boys... different fathers.’ Mrs Wilkinson muttered, her fingers working away at a loose thread. She seemed to lose interest then and closed her eyes, resting her head again.

  ‘Thank you so much for your time Mrs Wilkinson, you’ve been very helpful.’ Gayle turned and impulsively patted her shoulder.

  ‘Goodbye Mrs Wilkinson,’ said Georgia. There was no response.

  ‘What did you make of that?’ Gayle asked Georgia as they headed for the car.

  ‘Well, I thought she looked uncomfortable when you mentioned the attack on the student, and the alibi given by his brother.’

  ‘Mmm... yes, so did I. Let’s see what Rob has to say, shall we?’

  CHAPTER SIXTY-TWO

  Rob Wilkinson ran a fruit stall in Covent Garden, and was known locally as ‘Rob the Fruit’. Gayle and Georgia went straight from the care home to his Edwardian semi in Putney, where he lived with his wife and two daughters. His mother had told them Rob didn’t go out much at night, so Gayle hoped to catch him at home. He looked surprised when they showed their warrant cards, clearly wondering what two police officers were doing on his doorstep, but courteously invited them in.

  He led them into the lounge, an elegant room, with a high ceiling, tall sash windows and delft rack around the pale yellow walls, with blue willow plates. Despite its grandeur, the room had a cosy feel, with a bright blue long-pile rug and toning cushions on the plush velvet settees. Gayle noticed a large box of toys in one corner. There weren’t any children in sight, but she noticed a few photos of two little girls of about six and four. Both had Rob’s dark, corkscrew curls. Rob’s wife, a petite blonde lady with a warm smile, offered to make them some coffee.

  Gayle studied Rob as she placed her briefcase on the floor. She could see a resemblance between the two brothers, both had thick, dark, quite curly hair and were about the same height, but Rob was more wiry; less stocky.

  ‘We need to ask you a few questions, Rob. A
bout your brother. We need to find him urgently. Do you know where he is?’ she asked as soon as his wife had left the room. Rob took an armchair and invited them to sit opposite, on one of the settees. Rob’s wife soon returned, carrying a tray holding a steaming cafetiere, which she placed on the low table in front of them.

  ‘Give it a couple of minutes before pressing the plunger,’ she instructed, looking at Rob. ‘I need to see to the kids.’ Although the coffee smelled good, Gayle was impatient to get on with questioning Rob.

  ‘To answer your question, I don’t know where Justin is now,’ said Rob, ignoring his wife’s words and pressing the plunger on the cafetiere, before pouring the coffee.

  ‘When did you last see him?’ asked Gayle, accepting a small china mug of coffee.

  ‘I saw him last week, actually. I had to go to Newcastle for a friend’s funeral and I rang him and arranged to call in at his place in South Shields. First time I’ve seen him for about three years. We do speak on the phone from time to time, though.’

  ‘What did you talk about?’

  ‘Well, I’d put together a plan to extend my business. I was hopin’ Justin would back me, with a loan. He’s a cheeky bastard; said he didn’t think I had any business acumen and hinted I’d probably spend most of it on drugs. It’s not true. I’ve been clean for years; not that he’d know. Anyway, in the end, he coughed up.’

  ‘Do you mind telling us how much you borrowed?’

  ‘Twenty grand. He transferred it into my bank two days ago.’

  Georgia told him ‘We’ll need to see that transaction. We’re trying to trace your brother, and he just might have left a trail.’

  Rob looked slightly startled, but before he could say anything, Gayle asked, ‘Did it look as though he was living at the flat when you called in?’

  ‘Well, I think he was still living there, but the place looked bare. No pictures on the walls, bare bookshelves, that sort of thing. When I mentioned it, he said he was in the process of moving out. Out of the area altogether; said he wanted a fresh start. He wouldn’t tell me where he was off to. Just said he’d get in touch once he’d settled in.’

  ‘Do you have any idea at all where he might have gone? Anywhere he might have mentioned in the past? Any gut feeling?’ Gayle asked.

  ‘No. He never gives anything away.. I know practically nothing about what he gets up to these days.’ He took a sip of coffee, the cup rattling against the saucer as his hand shook.

  ‘Why did he move up North in the first place?’ Gayle asked. ‘Your mother didn’t seem to know.’ She watched him biting his lower lip.

  ‘I don’t really know either. He came into a lot of money when his dad died, so he wasn’t tied to his work any more. Why are you asking about him anyway? What’s he done?’ Rob asked, putting his cup down carefully, trying to control the trembling.

  ‘We need to find him urgently, Rob. If there’s any little thing you can tell us that might help? It’s really important, could be a matter of life and death.’ Gayle said.

  ‘Fuckin’ hell. What’s happened? You’re worryin’ me now. What’s he done?’ Rob was getting agitated, rubbing the back of his neck with one hand.

  ‘We want to talk to him in connection with the abduction of two women. They could be in grave danger. We need to find him quickly.’

  He slumped in his seat and put his head in his hands. ‘If I knew where he was, I’d tell you, believe me!’ he muttered through his fingers. ‘I swear I would.’ Looking up, he asked, ‘Do you really think he’s involved?’ he looked stricken.

  ‘Yes, we do Rob. Do you know if he has any friends in London? Anyone he keeps in touch with?’

  ‘I wouldn’t know. I hardly ever see him, and he tells me nothing. He was always a bit of a loner, though. Never knew him to have any close friends.’

  ‘Did you notice what car he had, when you were up there last week?’ asked Georgia.

  ‘Yeah, he had a dark blue BMW, Seven series; a real beauty. I noticed it parked in the yard. Tidy motor.’

  ‘You gave him an alibi five years ago, when one of his students was attacked, did you not?’ Gayle asked, changing tack.

  He turned to her. ‘Yes... yes I did. Why’d you bring that up?’

  ‘Were you covering for him by any chance?’

  He shook his head in denial, but couldn’t meet her eyes. ‘No. Course not. He was with me all night, just like I said.’ But his face told a different story.

  There wasn’t much more to learn from Rob and they stood up to take their leave.

  ‘If you think of anything; anything at all that might help us to find him, please call me straight away.’ Gayle handed him her card. ‘It might save someone’s life.’

  He nodded, taking the card. ‘I will.’

  Once back in the car, Gayle asked ‘Well, Georgia?’

  ‘Judging by his manner, I suspect, he gave his brother a false alibi five years ago. If so, he must be bitterly regretting it now. If his brother has killed Carol or Pauline, he’s going to have a lot to answer for. He’ll end up doing time himself.’

  ‘If he did, he deserves to rot in hell,’ said Gayle. ‘But, I believe him when he says he doesn’t know where his brother is now. I think he would tell us in a heartbeat, if he knew.’

  ‘He must be wetting himself, wondering what his brother’s done now,’ said Georgia.

  The office had booked them into the Ramada, near Gatwick, for the night. As there’d been no time to pack an overnight bag before they left, neither of them even had a toothbrush. The concierge at the hotel was very accommodating, however, when they told him of their plight, and made him aware they were police officers. He produced toothbrushes and a few extra toiletries. After putting them in their room, they made their way down to the bar for a much-needed beer.

  ‘Cheers. Now that really is what the doctor ordered.’ said Georgia. ‘Did I tell you about the gadget Mikey got me from Anne Summers...’

  ‘Cheers,’ Gayle interrupted. ‘No, and I don’t want to know, thanks. We’d better go up to the room - Crimewatch will be on soon. We’ll get something to eat from room service.’

  Inspector Mike Jensen was to appear on Crimewatch. Gayle knew they’d be showing a blown-up version of the photograph from Peter’s phone, and was hopeful it might elicit a good response. They settled down on their beds to watch.

  ‘We’re looking for this man in connection with the disappearance of two women. If you see him, do not approach him. Call this number or dial 999. I repeat do not approach him.’ The photograph appeared on the screen and was held there for some time.

  After the programme, Gayle rang the DCI to report on the interviews with Justin Green’s mother and half-brother.

  ‘I’m afraid, we’re no further forward, Boss. Neither the mother nor the brother has any idea where he is now.’

  ‘Ok. The Super’s getting the team together for an update at nine thirty in the morning. Will you make it?’

  ‘We’ll be there. We’re booked on the early flight.’

  After a quick bite, eaten cross-legged on their beds, Gayle was ready to turn in. It had been a long day. She took a quick shower, rinsed her undies through, and put them to dry on the radiator overnight. She could always finish them off with the hairdryer in the morning, if necessary.

  ‘I can see you’re miles away, Gayle,’ Georgia said as she lifted the crisp white duvet and slipped into bed. ‘You think they’re already dead, don’t you?’

  ‘I’ve got no doubt he’ll kill them both, if he hasn’t already. When he’s finished with Carol, of course. He’ll probably view Pauline as collateral damage.’

  ‘Hey, Gayle, don’t let this get to you. That’s the trouble with being FLO, you get too close to people.’

  ‘It’s not that. I know how to stay detached. But I want to get to him in time, if we can. After everything Carol’s been through, if that bastard kills her, there’s no fucking justice.’

  Gay
le was surprised to find that Georgia snored like a freight train and put her pillow over her head to drown out the awful racket. It should be her head I’m putting a pillow over, she thought grumpily. She couldn’t sleep, despite being so tired, and not just because of the snoring. It was hard to relax, knowing that Carol was in grave danger from a man she felt she should have somehow stopped, five years ago.

  Towards dawn, despite the snoring, and her jumbled thoughts, Gayle managed to snatch an hour’s sleep, through sheer exhaustion, before waking, bleary-eyed, ready to start another long day.

  A young constable from the Met picked them up at the hotel, to drive them to the airport. Gayle noticed him eyeing up Georgia, and she could see by the covert flirtatious looks Georgia kept giving him that there was an attraction between them. She smiled and thought to herself that didn’t bode well for Mikey.

  She rang the DCI on the way to the airport, to find out what the Crimewatch response had been, hoping something concrete had resulted from the publicity. Patsy told her there’d been a huge response; sightings had been reported from John O’Groats to Land’s End. Many leads were being followed up, but so far nothing substantial to go on.

  CHAPTER SIXTY-THREE

  He hadn’t re-tied my hands and I started frantically feeling around in the dark, trying to find how to get to the tail lights. I located one and kicked at it, but couldn’t hit it hard enough to break it. I started screaming for help, in the vain hope that someone was around to hear me. I knew it was useless, and eventually gave up. I concentrated on trying to find something, anything, to defend myself with, to no avail. I thought if I could lift the floor of the boot, I might find some tools there, but I couldn’t get any leverage on it, with the weight of two bodies pressing it down.

  Lying in the dark, pressed up against Pauline’s body, on my way to almost certain death, I was filled with the deepest fear and despair, terrified for myself, but even more scared for Julia. And heartbroken for Peter and Pauline.