When a Killer Strikes, page 7
‘Have we got anything from the mobile service provider?’ said Dylan.
‘We only logged the enquiry yesterday,’ said Raj.
‘I don’t care. Chase them up, and Forensics. We haven’t been able to eliminate with confidence a single male that has been brought into the enquiry. Everyone therefore remains a suspect. I’ll see you all again at debrief.’ Dylan looked at his watch. He appeared restless and agitated. ‘Make it six-thirty, and don’t be late.’
Dylan walked to his office and Vicky followed. He didn’t see her stood at the door and she watched him sit behind his desk and ease a document out of an unfamiliar type of brown envelope. Dylan appeared pleasantly surprised by the envelope’s contents and briefly she saw a softening of the lines around his tired eyes. She tapped on the window of his open door and walked in.
‘Elliot Black is coming in to have his DNA taken. Thoughts on these Eyeball and Randy tags people give him?’
He turned his attention to his second in command. ‘Why? What you thinking?’
‘Well, we’ve been told by her mum that Patti was forever dressed in her leotard around the house, so he could hardly ignore her. But, it wasn’t that long ago he was stealing knickers off washing lines.’
Dylan looked thoughtful. ‘The photographs Black showed the journalist… If they haven’t been seized, make sure they are.’
Vicky’s eyes narrowed. ‘Are you thinking that he might have tried it on with her and she rejected him? Maybe even threatening to tell her mother?’
‘It’s a possibility. I wonder… did he see her pass the shop on her way home and follow her? What time is he coming in? He’s got a few questions and we need answers now.’
She lifted her arm and pulled at the sleeve of her jumper to reveal the face of her watch. ‘Supposedly, within the next half an hour.’
‘I want you to drop it on his toes about Patti’s nickname for him. Let’s see what his reaction is. We need Elliot Black in or out of the enquiry as quickly as possible.’ Vicky walked towards the door and Dylan stopped her in her tracks. ‘Tell you what, give me a shout when he arrives. I’ll join you.’ She looked over her shoulder to see him picking up the document that he had been reading when she arrived.
‘I’m glad something can make you smile. What’s that?’
Dylan looked bemused. ‘It’s the details for a house Jen went to view.’
‘Any good?’
‘I haven’t been to see… Well, not recently anyway…’
Vicky scowled. ‘You’re not making any sense.’
DC Ned Granger appeared in the doorway. ‘Just for your info, boss. Stuart Sykes, the neighbour with the telescope, he’s not turned up for his appointment. We’ve been to his house and there is no reply.’
‘Keep me updated,’ said Dylan.
‘Jaene tells me Elliot Black set off well over an hour ago, too.’
Ned ran his hand through is thick, curly hair. ‘He should be here by now. We left Burford Road half an hour ago and we’ve also driven around the park where Sykes hangs out to see if we could locate him.’
‘And no joy?’ said Dylan.
‘No,’ he said flopping down on his chair. He swivelled around to face Vicky. ‘Get us a sarnie when you go out, will you. I’m ravenous.’
Her eyes were round. ‘And, tell me, what did your last slave die of, a crack round the bloody head?’
* * *
Jen was sat in the office two floors above Dylan. The click-click-clicking of the keyboards, ring-ring-ringing of the phones and chat-chat-chatting of the officers walking in and out made it a normal day. Avril Summerfield-Preston was doing her best impression of Hyacinth Bouquet, the standard-bearer of middle-class snobbery, as she hosted the administrators’ monthly meeting. Jen’s mobile phone rang as Avril was leading them out of her office. Rita raised her eyebrows and grinned. Jen grimaced.
‘Jennifer!’ Avril called. Her eyes were like steel. ‘We are ready for you now, dear, if you could kindly show the ladies and gentlemen where their lunch will be served.’ Jen fumbled frantically in her bag and stopped the ringtone wail. ‘It was the estate agent,’ she hissed at Rita as she passed behind her chair.
* * *
Dylan was sat in his office going through the enquiry’s paper trail when Vicky re-appeared at his office door. ‘Is he here?’
She nodded. Dylan’s phone rang. ‘I’ll be with you in a minute. It’s the estate agent returning my call.’ She smiled knowingly and closed the door behind her.
Elliot Black didn’t appear to be taken aback by the Detective Inspector’s presence in the interview room. Had he expected that a senior officer, the man in charge of the murder investigation, would be there?
‘How are you? How’s Sandra?’ asked Vicky.
‘Not good.’ Elliot coughed into his balled fist. ‘I’m not sleeping. Terrible nightmares… I keep seeing her… our Patti… on the landing.’ He stared down at the table that stood between them.
Vicky stood from her seating position, a sealed package in her hand. ‘I guess that’s understandable, Elliot,’ she said, moving to stand beside him. ‘As you know we need to take the DNA sample swab from you today, so we might as well get that over and done with.’
‘It’s really not necessary,’ he said, raising his hand. He turned his head and coughed again as he showed her his palm. ‘I’ve got this…’ he coughed again, took a handkerchief out of his pocket and spat. ‘This terribly sore throat.’ Elliot Black looked at the officers as though he had a bad smell under his nose.
‘But it is.’ Dylan leaned across the table towards him. ‘You see, for some unknown reason, your DNA was not taken after your caution for theft.’ His eyes were set, cold, dark and focused.
Vicky smiled at Elliot. ‘Don’t worry about me. I’m constantly in the cold zone. I’ve got young nephews and nieces and they’ve always got something or other going on.’
She saw what looked like fear in his eyes.
‘It doesn’t hurt. There’s nothing to worry about,’ she said, pulling a pair of plastic gloves out of the paper handkerchief looking box. ‘We just need to formally eliminate you from the enquiry like anyone else. It’s standard practice.’ She picked up a clear tube, a swab visible within. ‘This won’t take a minute, open wide,’ she said, standing over him. Elliot Black’s hair was all of a sudden wet at the temples with beaded sweat.
However, looking up at the ceiling Elliot Black duly did as he was told and Vicky gently swabbed the inside of his mouth.
‘Thank you, all done!’ she said a moment later as she popped the swab in the tube and secured the cap. She sat back down next to Dylan and busied herself writing on the paperwork she later attached.
Elliot Black shuffled in his seat. ‘I think I should tell you. I wasn’t totally truthful the other day…’
Dylan sat in silence. ‘Why’s that Elliot?’
‘I’ve got previous for traffic offences.’
‘Traffic offences?’ Dylan nodded.
When there wasn’t the reaction on the faces of the officers that he expected Elliot Black sat in silence, put his elbows on his knees and his head in his hands, concentrating on the floor between his legs.
Vicky’s voice was clear and precise. ‘Okay, we appreciate your honesty. Anything else we should be aware of?’
‘No.’
‘So, we need to clarify one or two things that have come to our attention in the early stages of the enquiry, which you may be able to assist us with.’
Mr Black sat up straight, leaned back in this chair and gave a resigned sort of sigh. ‘I’ll try. How long will this take? I don’t want to leave Sandra too long at the moment. She’s on the verge of a breakdown, the doctor said.’ His voice was appealing, tears sprung into his eyes.
‘I fully understand,’ Vicky said, compassion in her tone.
‘Did you know that Patti had a nickname for you.’
‘No! Did she? I guess it wasn’t very flattering.’ He closed his eyes and he let his head loll back. He sighed again, opened his eyes and looked up at the ceiling. ‘Go on, what was it?’
‘Eyeball. Why do you think that was?’
Elliot looked genuinely shocked. ‘I’ve no idea.’
‘Her friends tell us it was because you were always watching her.’
‘I don’t deny it. She was a pretty girl. What man wouldn’t try to protect his daughter… step-daughter.’
‘We are also led to believe you have an unusual number of photographs of Patti?’ Dylan said.
‘No more than any other proud parent, I wouldn’t think.’ Elliot bit his lip and held back the threatening tears.
‘So you won’t mind us looking at them?’
‘Why should I, Mr Dylan? They’re on my laptop, which your guys have already seized.’ He shrugged his shoulders. ‘Feel free!’
‘Do you know what your nickname is at work?’
Elliot Black looked skywards and his gaze found the corner of the room. ‘I’m the boss,’ he said with no apparent interest. ‘I’ve no idea what they call me.’ He turned his attention to Dylan. ‘What the hell do nicknames have to do with the murder of Patti?’
‘Randy?’ Vicky said. ‘Your colleagues at work nicknamed you Randy.’
He managed a brief smile and shook his head slowly. ‘Look, this is absolute nonsense. At work it’s banter, and at home Patti was Patti. I was, am proud of her. She was beautiful. I’d be blind not to notice how lovely she was. She was always in her gym stuff doing flipflops and rolls in front of us. I built a gym for her so she didn’t have to go out to train any more than necessary. But be assured, I am not the person you are looking for. I did not attack and kill Patti. I found her, just like I said I did. That image of her is going to remain with me for the rest of my life. I loved Patti like a daughter, nothing more.’
‘It’s obvious that the attack on Patti was sexually driven, so you can understand why we are asking you these questions when we are being given information about you that’s linked to sexual innuendoes.’
Elliot put his hand to his sweating brow. ‘Oh, come on, this is bloody ridiculous. I didn’t kill her. Am I under arrest?’
‘No,’ said Dylan. ‘No, you’re free to go whenever you please.’
Elliot stood to leave and the detectives remained seated.
‘But, it would be very unprofessional of us not to eliminate you from the enquiry. It’s routine, like we said, that we do these simple tests and ask the questions. It would be negligent of us not to,’ Dylan said.
‘Well, I’m sorry. I’ve had enough of your questions. I find them distasteful to say the least. If I go, then you might concentrate on looking for her real killer.’ He went to the door and placed his hand on the doorknob.
Vicky stood and walked towards him. ‘I’ll show you out.’
Vicky led him down the corridor to the exit. She opened the door that led into the police station reception area, for him to leave.
‘I’m sorry for kicking off like that, but it’s not me. Find her killer and then you’ll know I’m telling you the truth.’
Dylan was waiting for Vicky in the incident room. ‘Do you believe him?’
‘He says it’s not him. But we certainly touched a nerve when he heard about the nickname Patti gave him. We haven’t enough evidence to arrest him. But, one thing he did say that we know is not true, and that is that he didn’t like leaving Sandra any longer than he had to, because of course we know he must have gone somewhere else before he came here. I don’t know. I just hope they find semen on the swabs that the pathologist took at the post-mortem and then at least we will have DNA for elimination, which of course will make our job easier.’
‘I’m sure we’ll get a forensic update before long and I’ve arranged to have his collection of photographs viewed as a priority. Until then, don’t sit on the fence, Hardacre. What’s your gut feeling?’
‘My gut feeling is that you’d better have made an appointment to go and look at that house or you’re dead meat, sir!’
Chapter Six
Dylan stood at the top of the driveway – two tyre tracks with grass growing down the middle. The rickety five-bar gate – that he had stood upon many a time while waiting for the ice cream van to arrive – was still tied to the sycamore tree, as it had been when he was a boy. He stood under the tree and looked up. The limp remnants of old rope told the story of several tree swings of yesteryear and he was taken back to happy, carefree, summer days. He wondered which of his brothers, Ronnie or Charlie, had fallen off the swing and broken his arm. His recollection of that day morphed into another when one of them came hurtling down the hill on a go-kart head-first into that gatepost. Both occasions had resulted in a trip to the hospital and a few strong words from his former regimental sergeant major father. A few more steps and he could see The Station House, the grace and favour home that his dad had been given when he worked on the railway. The ivy that he remembered framing the wooden porch alongside his mother’s favourite climbing rose had now consumed even the chimney, and the roof tiles appeared to be growing hair.
The estate agent, Natalie, leaned with her back to her car, mobile phone to her ear. ‘Can I ring you back? I’m at the property now with a client,’ she said, rolling her eyes and acknowledging Dylan’s presence ‘Go on then…’ She appeared to frown at the news being imparted. Dylan walked on past her and down past the outbuildings.
Broken, rusted chicken wire partly edged the area where his brother had kept chickens, and beyond the remnants of a coal-hole was a path that led to the outside toilet. Dylan chuckled. He and his siblings were always glad when mum bought teacakes from the local Thomas’s bakery as they were wrapped in tissue paper – a darn sight softer than the damp squares of newspaper that was the norm elsewhere.
Up on the hillside beyond the house the outline of a vegetable patch he’d worked on as a child was still visible. Many a meal had been made from the produce the family had grown on that small piece of land.
‘Penny for them?’ Natalie said, noting his eyes labouring on the house. ‘The former owner died some years ago, we’re told, and the house has remained empty ever since,’ she said, by way of an explanation for the ivy bulging out of the partly open upstairs sash window. A thick tree branch was embedded in the roof. He nodded. His eyes left the building.
‘I’ve dug many a potato from up there in my time,’ he said in a quiet, detached voice. ‘That was my job, growing the potatoes.’
‘Really?’ she said, her expression one of surprise. ‘Your wife never said you had a connection to the property.’
His reply was laboured. ‘My wife doesn’t know,’ he said, raising an eyebrow at her.
‘God, that’s spooky… Jen loves it.’
‘She might love the idea, but in all honesty there’s no way we could take on a project like this at this moment in time.’
The smile that she had on her face dropped away. ‘Looks like your luck’s in then, because that phone call I’ve just taken was to tell me we’ve just received a blind offer from a local builder who wants the land to develop. Jen never needs to know…’
Dylan turned sharply. ‘He wants to knock it down?’
Natalie nodded.
* * *
‘You’re the boss,’ said Vicky, popping her head to the side as she put her pen to her lips.
Dylan put his hands behind his head and leant back in his chair. ‘Like I said before, we’ve not enough evidence to arrest. I can’t deny Elliot Black is a possible suspect. When we’ve got his DNA profile it’ll be automatically checked against the DNA recovered from the scene and from Patti. Did we seize his footwear?’
‘Yes, already gone to the lab to be checked against the partial bloodied footprint.’
Dylan looked thoughtful. ‘Have a word with Jaene, will you, and ask her to monitor Elliot Black’s mood now that we’ve spoken to him.’
Vicky’s elbow was rested on her chair arm. She tapped her pen on her chin. ‘Do you think we should be asking Sandra if she’s aware of the photographs he’s got of Patti and his nicknames?’
Dylan puffed out his cheeks and blew a long breath. ‘If she didn’t know it’s going to go down like a lead balloon right now, isn’t it?’
Vicky scowled. ‘What do you mean?’
Dylan sat up straight and leaned forward. He looked otherwise distracted as he wrote a few words on his blotter. He looked up. ‘What do I always tell you? Never assume. I’ve dealt with incest cases where the mum has known full well what was going on but chose to turn a blind eye or was even involved.’
‘That’s sick.’
‘Too right it is. But sadly, it also happens. For some families it’s the norm – it’s life as they know it, as they’ve always known it.’ Dylan appeared to ponder. ‘Let’s wait until we’ve run the checks on Elliot Black’s DNA profile before we consider mentioning it to Sandra. That way we will have put him in or out of the frame. We don’t need to create them any more problems. I suspect their relationship is under a tremendous strain as it is, don’t you?’
‘And she doesn’t need to know about him nicking knickers, right?’ Vicky asked tentatively.
‘Not for now, but she is going to have to know about that at some point. You can bet your bottom dollar that everything a defence barrister can find on him, if need be, will come out in court,’ Dylan looked at her questioningly. Vicky looked sad. ‘Talking makes me incredibly thirsty, doesn’t it you?’ he said. ‘Do you consider yourself a good detective?’
Vicky frowned. ‘How come you’re asking me that?’
‘Well, a good detective would pick up on a subtle hint, especially a detective with your sensitivity and intuition.’
‘Come again?’
‘Well, around about now, a coffee wouldn’t go amiss.’
Vicky’s brows rose as the penny dropped. ‘You’re about as subtle as a bloody brick.’
