Reprobates (16 page)

Dylan was on the telephone to the Crown Prosecution Service before the detectives closed the interview.

‘You could bail her,’ the on-duty CPS officer said.

‘
And that’s not going to happen,’ Dylan said, voice raised. ‘We’ve not located the murder weapon yet and a second offender is being sought. She’ll be before the Magistrates’ Court tomorrow morning for a remand in custody.’

Vicky
’s chin was resting on her chest as she skulked back into the office dragging her feet on the floor. She threw her paperwork down on her desk and flopped in her chair. Andy brought her a drink from the water dispenser in a plastic cup. She drank the ice cold liquid, savouring the feeling as it hit the back of her throat. In her handbag she found a packet of Asprin and popped two in her hand before throwing them to back of her mouth, she swallowed.

‘Get her charged,
’ Dylan was saying to Andy as he walked out into the CID office. ‘Copy of the remand file on my desk for tomorrow morning and do a one liner for the press office news line, Vicky.’

‘
And say what?’

‘
Just something brief. A thirty-eight-year-old woman will appear before the Harrowfield Magistrates’ tomorrow charged with murder. Send it to HQ press office for Claire Rose’s attention. I want you both to keep your eyes peeled in that court room. It will be interesting to see who turns up to watch. Right I have to go see a woman about a dog.’

‘
Whatever,’ said Vicky.

‘
No, I have really,’ said Dylan.

‘
What about the body in the river?’

‘It
’s looking increasing likely that it’s one of their long standing Mispers. A red herring.’

‘
Herrings in the River Worth? I’ll make the press office aware of that too shall I?’

‘
I do the jokes, Vicky,’ he said.

Dylan texted Jen.
I’m on my way home.

I
’m in shock.

Not to worry I
’m a trained first aider,
he replied.
Start undoing your tight clothing.

Max bounded down the hallway all dribble and slobber. ‘Now that’s what I call a welcome home,’ Dylan said ruffling his sandy coat.

Maisy stood with the help of the coffee table and Jen clapped her hands excitedly.
‘I knew it. I just knew she was going to do that today,’ she said, gathering her up in arms and planting a kiss on her cheek.

Her phone bleeped, she picked it out of her bag and threw it back again without answering it.

‘Who is it?’ asked Dylan.

‘
Penny. Again,’ she said. ‘All of a sudden she is taking a very keen interest in the crime, in Harrowfield.’

‘
That’s what the job does to you, doesn’t it? It becomes a lifestyle.’

‘
Well yeah, but I’m not being funny, she’s only a cleaner. It’s not like she is in the need to know bracket is it?’

‘
Hey, don’t knock it. We need more like her taking an interest. That way we might get more people willing to come forward and give evidence.’

‘
If I’m not supposed to know about anything Jack, then I’d rather not, so don’t tell me. Then if it becomes common knowledge you know it wasn’t me who spilt the beans.’

‘
But, I trust you implicitly and you are involved, like it or not.’

‘
Not now I’m not. I’m doing personnel, remember? There are enough gossips in a police station without Penny adding to it.’

‘
Okay, if it makes you feel better I won’t tell you anything.’

‘It does. Anyway, I
’ve got some news for you,’ she said, her eyes bright and shining.

‘Go on,
’ he said.

‘Dad
’s got a girlfriend?’

‘
He has?’

‘
Yes, they met through Vince and Jacqui who run Godshill Village Post Office on the Isle of Wight. They won ten thousand pounds last year in a national competition to develop their Post Office as a community hub. Their idea was to try and reduce isolation of older people and offer support to them. Part of that money has been used to give people access to the internet and computer training. Dad, never being backwards in coming forwards to meet people signed up.’

‘
So he’s met this lady online? Your dad’s internet dating?’

‘
No, not quite silly, he met her at the class.’

‘
And you’re not upset?’

‘
Upset? Why should I be? Dad’s on his own, three hundred miles away from us. If she makes him happy I’m pleased for them both.’

‘
I think someone is feeling neglected,’ Dylan said looking at Maisy who was blowing raspberries on Max’s tummy.

‘
Doesn’t need much to keep us happy, does it Maisy?’ Jen said with a smile.

***

It was eight o’clock and Maisy was tucked up in bed and fast asleep. The phone rang.

‘
Is Mr Dylan there, please?’ asked the caller.

‘It
’s for you,’ Jen said handing Jack the receiver.

‘Control Room,
sir. I understand you’re the on-call Negotiator?’

Dylan looked about aimlessly. Jen handed him a piece of paper and a pen.
‘Go on.’

Dylan scribbled notes.
‘I’ll be expecting him sooner rather than later then,’ he said before putting the phone down. He looked across at Jen and sighed. ‘Somebody wanting to jump off the Scarbottom Bridge onto the motorway. They’re sending a traffic car for me as they’ve had to stop the traffic so they want me there as soon as...’

‘
Possible,’ she said.

He got up off the sofa.
‘I’ll just go throw my jeans and a jumper on. Hopefully I’ll be back for breakfast,’ he said teasingly. But she knew there was an element of truth in his bravado.

***

Blue lights illuminating the dark skies were the first indication that the car was nearing the door. Screeching brakes and skidding tyres the next. ‘That should get the neighbours talking,’ said Dylan as he briefly kissed Jen. No sooner had he done than he was gone. The lounge felt empty and Jen bereft. She could hear sirens ebbing away in the distance.

‘
Have we got a name?’ Dylan asked Control over the airways.

‘
A Mr James, sir. John James, a driver working as I understand for Prestigious Funeral Directors in Harrowfield.’ Dylan held his stomach as the motion of the speeding car tossed him from side to side. They travelled along dark, narrow roads. ‘Thank you,’ he said. His voice sounded alien to him.

‘
Just for your info, he’s known to us. It’s not the first time he’s been up there recently.’

‘We
’ll be there as quick as it is humanly possible, or sooner if my driver has his way.’

Dylan
’s advanced driver was an experienced traffic officer called Ray Green; nicknamed bullet, because he travelled everywhere at speed. As they moved away from the urban centre of Harrowfield, Ray turned his lights onto full beam. His reactions to other traffic, pedestrians and cyclists were to dip his headlights. This meant his visibility was somewhat reduced and he slightly let up on his speed at that time. Vehicles approached them with their headlights on full beam. Ray cursed. Dylan saw Ray’s eyes glance to the nearside of the road instead of into the headlights and as soon as the vehicle had passed he returned to full beam. Bends and dips in the road were cloaked in darkness. Suddenly as they rounded a bend Ray slammed on the brakes. The car skidded dramatically but he managed to stay in control of the car. Dylan lunged forward, his seat belt dug into this shoulder and for a split second he thought he was going through the windscreen.

‘
Sorry boss, bloody cat. Wife would never forgive me if I’d hit it.’

‘
I think the idea is that you get me there alive, Ray. Cats have nine lives, haven’t they?’ he asked, exhaling. ‘I’ve only got one.’ His heart was pounding.

‘
But the wife’s a cat lover,’ he said, naming his five cats one by one as they weaved in and out of the traffic and cautiously through a red traffic light.‘Just round this next corner boss and we’ll be at the mouth of the bridge.’

Dylan was grateful. He was not sure if his stomach would have stood much more.

‘All units,’ came the announcement over the airways. ‘We have one fatally injured male on the southbound carriageway of the motorway.’

‘
Too late boss, Mr James has gone over,’ he said turning to Dylan. He slowed the car down and turned off the blue lights and the sirens.

Dylan received confirmation his services were no longer required.

‘Back home then, boss?’ PC Ray Green said matter of fact.

‘
Guess so,’ Dylan said giving him a spontaneous glance of acute sadness. ‘But no rush now, eh?’ he asked.

‘
Point taken. I wonder what troubles a person has that makes them intent on jumping from such a great height?’

‘
Hopefully we’ll never be in such a position to know. If only they knew they might survive but be in a hell of a lot of pain for a long time or disabled for the rest of their life… I wonder if they’d still do it?’

‘It
’s the poor buggers who are travelling below when the jumper gives no warning about their intention that I feel sorry for. Fortunately this time he didn’t go over straight away and they managed to stop all the motorway traffic below.’

‘
One thing for sure he won’t be driving funeral cars any more. Carpe diem, Ray.’

‘
Aye, that’s something this job teaches us alright, isn’t it boss? To seize the day.’

Jane Simpson was due in the Magistrates
’ Court at two o’clock, when CPS would apply for her to be remanded in custody. Dylan knew from experience, and as a matter of course that the defence would ask that she be bailed. They would tell the magistrates that she was vehemently denying all charges with good cause. Most of the time Dylan could write the script for the defence’s approach before he got there.

Jacki Stanley a very experienced Crown Prosecutor had broached Dylan to see if he would give evidence at the remand hearing, which she felt would add weight to the application. He didn
’t mind, he wanted Jane Simpson where she couldn’t obstruct the ongoing investigation.

‘It
’s a difficult one for the Magistrates but if they listen carefully to the evidence they won’t let the defence pull the wool over their eyes,’ Jacki Stanley said.

***

There was a note waiting for him on his desk at the station. A Mr Fisher had telephoned asking if he would call.

‘
What’s this all about?’ he asked Lisa.

‘
Your guess is as good as mine. He insisted on speaking to you. Wouldn’t leave a message.’

Although he was still standing Dylan picked up his phone and commenced to dial.

‘He’s the boss over at the mortuary isn’t he?’ asked Lisa.

‘Yes, Derek Harper
’s boss.’

‘
Mr Fisher. Jack Dylan. I’m returning your call.’

Dylan sat. His elbows were on his desk. His chin on his fist as he listened with intensity.
‘You mean by “let him go” I take it that you’ve sacked him?’ he asked. Lisa’s ears pricked up and she stopped what she was doing.

‘
Yes, I caught him taking a picture of a deceased lady on his mobile phone today. It appears he has a fascination with tattoos. I ordered him to erase the image immediately. You can be assured you can forget about him. He won’t be causing you any more problems. The matter has been dealt with. I wanted you to know.’

‘
Do you have Harper’s home address, just in case we need to speak to him?’

‘
I do but... It’s number 5, Hawthorne Terrace but… I don’t think…’

‘Thank you. I
’ll get that fed into our system.’

Dylan handed the information to Lisa.
‘For the attention of the Incident Room staff, too,’ he said.

‘Sure,
’ she said.

In the Incident Room he saw Vicky and Paul Robinson in deep conversation.

‘Vicky, Paul, my office please, we need a quick scrum down before court,’ he said.

***

It was almost time for the court appearance and Dylan picked up his briefcase. DC Andy Wormald was working with PC Tracy Petterson who they had managed to draft in on secondment. The defendant’s telephone data had been received but they still needed to firm up on an address for Billy Simpson. ‘Before you ask I’m coming to Magistrates Court for the remand of Jane Simpson but I was thinking County Court records might help us get an address, especially if they had filed for divorce,’ said Dylan. ‘And make sure everything is recorded on action forms, Vicky for the Incident Room, continuity and disclosure and I’ll update the policy log.’

***

According to Detective Sergeant Paul Robinson who was hard at work on the Kirsty Gallagher enquiry a vast amount of exhibits had been removed from her house. Swabs from the gas pipe had been taken and fingerprints lifted from the empty drawers in her bedroom amongst other places of interest to them.

‘
We are going through her letters, diaries etcetera to see if we can build up a background picture for her. She certainly liked her foreign holidays to exotic climes, but it appears she kept herself very much to herself.’

‘
Still interviewing people?’

‘
Yes. One interesting development is that one of the staff at the funeral directors where she worked for a short time suggested that the photograph from her car we showed him, looked like one of their employees.’

‘
Ensure the policy log is up to date and everything goes through the relevant Incident Room. There should be no mix ups with names to each of the investigations which are now called Pullman for the Kirsty Gallagher enquiry and Mallard for the Billy Simpson murder.’

‘
We sound like a group of chuffin’ train spotters. Which weirdo at HQ thinks up these bloody names?’

‘
Talking of weirdos, after Court I think we need to visit our mortuary attendant Derek Harper. He’s been fired.’

‘
Has he?’

‘
Yes. I reckon it could be an interesting visit. Let’s see what else he will tell us now he’s been sacked by Fisher,’ said Dylan.

***

The Magistrates’ Court was full with a relentless, chattering crowd: some of whom Dylan noticed had brought provisions. They were settled for the afternoon it seemed. There was a number of interesting cases listed.

It was raining outside and the courtroom smelt of wet clothes. The windows looked dirty and the room had a green glow about it due to the lighting.

Courts, both Magistrates’ and Crown Court used to be imposing places and people had respect for them. In the past visitors wouldn’t dare utter a sound or behave improperly within their walls for fear of contempt, thereby receiving the full wrath of Magistrate or Judge presiding. Nowadays it appeared people treated them as nothing more than a place of entertainment. The lead magistrate, one of three, was a large, stocky lady with a square face and a flat forehead: she had a mass of wild, thick grey hair and deep set eyes. Now and again she took a sip of water from a glass on the desk in front of her.

Jane Simpson was brought up from the cells by a police officer and sat in the dock. She looked weary and tired, but steadfast and determined. Simpson
’s expression suggested to Dylan that she was ill at ease. She sat with her hands clasped tight in her lap until she was asked to stand, by the lead magistrate.

Dylan took the witness stand, when asked to do so. He looked about the public gallery and hoped that there would be someone, a lone male that perhaps appeared to be supporting Jane Simpson. Much to his disappointment there was no one to fit that description. Having given his name and occupation he took the oath and spoke to the Magistrates.

‘Your worships, I have attended this afternoon to reinforce the serious nature of the case before you, for which Jane Simpson appears charged with murder. The facts are not as they appear at face value. I confirm we have no evidence of a break in at the defendant’s house, one murder weapon is proving to be elusive and the injuries to Mrs Simpson’s ex-husband, according to the pathologist, are not consistent with how she states they were caused. Her account of what took place that night is a lie. She would have us believe that she was attacked by a masked intruder and his fatal injuries were caused by her defending herself. At her trial this will be proven to be false. Jane Simpson has no ties to the area and because her story has not been accepted, I believe she may abscond. It may be that there is also an accomplice out there and that she will interfere with the course of justice, thereby obstructing the investigation, if she is released on bail. This murder was premeditated and the aftermath, such as her arrest, was anticipated in my view. I feel that given the opportunity she would not make herself available for a future trial.’

Jane Simpson kept her head bowed. She was very still and silent.

Yvonne Best her solicitor had no questions for Detective Inspector Dylan but told the Court that in her view she thought her client was lucky to be alive after such an attack by an intruder. She stated her client denied knowing him due to the mask he was wearing, until she saw the photo of her dead ex-husband taken at the scene by the police, with the mask removed. ‘My client will abide by any restrictions placed upon her, no matter how restrictive,’ she said. ‘Prison, I’m sure you will agree is no place for her. She is the victim in this case.’

Dylan was impressed with how she pleaded her client
’s case but hoped the magistrates would remand Jane Simpson nevertheless. He observed the countenance on the faces of the magistrates before they retired to the back room, asking the clerk to join them.

Ten minutes later they returned to inform Ms Simpson that she would be remanded in custody. When Dylan heard the ruling he was conscious of a feeling of great relief.

Jane Simpson didn’t flinch when the police officer alongside her touched her arm. She was ushered from the dock and back down the steps, to the cells. Dylan wondered if Jane Simpson had expected the ruling. He knew her solicitors Perfect and Best would be appealing to a Judge in Chambers at the first opportunity and there she may well get bail. Dylan was aware that her solicitors would be considering this, but would make enquiries to see which judge was where before making the appointment. Some Judges were known for being more sympathetic and others were renowned for their hefty sentencing and lack of compassion for the offender. One thing for sure, the legal team would be ensuring all the legal aid forms were completed and signed promptly. A murder enquiry was a good source of income for them.

Dylan left the courtroom with Vicky. The sky had cleared and he was feeling restless.

‘Come on, let’s go see what Derek Harper has got to say, shall we?’

‘
Do we have to, he gives me the heebie jeebies?’

‘Don
’t worry, you’re probably not his type, Vicky... you’ve got a pulse and don’t have a tattoo,’ he said, with a glint in his eye. ‘He’s been taking pictures of dead bodies and has a fascination with tattoos seemingly. Let’s see if we can find out what he’s up to.’

‘Urgh...
’ she said, taking the packet of Dylan’s mints out of her pocket and handing one to him. ‘How do you know I haven’t got a tattoo?’ she said.