White Lilies (20 page)

Dylan sat patiently listening to the ringing tone that in turn went onto the answering machine. Leaving a message, he wondered if Dawn would be well enough to attend court. Of course she would, he told himself. What was he thinking? She wouldn’t miss this court case for the world.

‘Just got confirmation that Stevenson’s profile’s been circulated to all ports, sir,’ Lisa told him as she walked in his office. He took the paperwork she held out for him.

‘If he was intending to leave the country, we might just get lucky,’ he said, hopefully.

Taylor headed for the Forrester’s home. The priority was to question Bill Forrester and Graham Tate about their whereabouts at the time of Denton’s murder. It was highly likely these two had lots of enemies, but, as ever, Dylan  would follow the detective’s golden rule and clear the ground beneath his feet before he went on to do anything else. Graham Tate had two good reasons to want to see them dead; the Forresters, too.

Dylan closed his door. While the officers were out and about making their enquiries, he decided to sit quietly and grab the chance to review the investigation into Mildred Sykes’s death. He needed to satisfy himself that they had left no stone unturned.

If she had opted for equity release like Stevenson had said, where was the flaming money? Was Donald Harvey’s accusation right? Where was Grace Harvey’s money? Striking similarities of the two crimes were too close for comfort, thought Dylan. Did Denton and Greenwood do Stevenson’s dirty work for him?

Found in their possession was a silver carriage clock, which was obviously stolen property. There couldn’t be anything more out of place in their bachelor pad than that bejewelled ornament. Dylan opened the envelope that contained the blown-up photograph of Mildred and stared at it. The clock seized from the flat that Vicky had shown him was most definitely like the one in the picture. He was certain that the clock was not still on the mantelshelf at Mildred’s house when he had walked around after her murder.

‘Vicky,’ he called.

‘Yep,’ she said opening his door.

‘That clock seized from Denton and Greenwood's flat. Has it been checked out yet?’

‘Not that I’m aware of.’

‘Get me it out of the property store will you? And be careful, I don’t want any unnecessary fingerprints on it.’

Vicky nodded and slowly turned. ‘Yes, boss,’ she drawled.

‘Vicky, like yesterday please. Oh, Vicky,’ he hollered.

‘Yes?’ she said, stopping in her tracks and retracing her steps.

‘Coffee,’ he gestured with the cup in his hand.

She smiled. ‘Lisa,’ she called as she across the office. ‘Boss wants a coffee.’

Dylan smiled.

The clock, of course, would need to be thoroughly examined inside and out and fingerprinted. With vigour he set about writing a list of actionable enquiries for the HOLMES team to put onto the database, to be allocated to ensure no duplicate actions were undertaken. He needed evidence to prove beyond doubt it was Mildred’s. If it was, had they stolen it from her or from Brian Stevenson? He needed to prove a sequence of events.

Had Stevenson been systematically robbing his elderly customers of personal property and their savings? His head was buzzing. He searched his desk drawer for his Paracetamols. Popping two in his mouth he chomped on them, swilled his mouth with cold coffee and swallowed them, grimacing at the taste they left.

It was evident Stevenson hadn’t liked all the attention he was getting from the police, and Dylan was sure they were only scratching the surface of his unscrupulous dealings with his clients. Picking up his phone, he dialled the number of the coroner’s officer to see if he could get a list faxed to him of elderly people and their cause of death, registered in Harrowfield within the past two or maybe three years.

Stevenson’s trade may have been that of an accountant/financial advisor – but was that just his cover? He had money, but was that because he’d stolen it? Had they stumbled on a serial killer, a wolf in sheep’s clothing who had charmed and fleeced his victims? As soon as Dylan obtained the list, he would put the names in the system for them to be checked against Stevenson’s clients.

Had they got the list of clients from him yet? The documentation from his account – where was it? Had Grace Harvey’s death just been a coincidence, a little too close for comfort for Stevenson? He wanted the financial investigation unit to prioritise enquiries into Stevenson to see what it revealed and he’d also get a warrant for his home address to get it searched, make use of the time before he was detained, before the Police and Criminal Evidence custody time limit clock started running.

In some circumstances, he may have been the only visitor to these lonely people. Would anyone be surprised or shocked if an elderly person with a bad heart had fallen at home and died? After all it was a daily occurrence. Had he found himself a profitable niche for a man with no scruples?

Dylan was satisfied with where the investigation was going. He now needed to find Stevenson – and the evidence to nail him.

He moved onto Denton and Greenwood. Dylan had no doubt their car had killed Grace Harvey and they had raped Pam Forrester. He urgently wanted evidence to prove beyond doubt that this pair had callously knocked down Bridey and Toby. But, who’d killed Denton? Was Greenwood going to survive? If so, would he talk to them? The dilemma laid heavily on Dylan’s mind.

Dylan walked through the incident room with a wedge of paper enquiries he had written for the HOLMES team to process. He was conscious that the team were spread thin. They were all working independently, which he deemed the right approach in this situation.

‘Boss, I think I better make that coffee a strong espresso,’ said Lisa, looking up from her computer screen at him.

‘I’m flagging,’ he said, gratefully. ‘And it’ll soon be time for the debrief.’

‘Hey, I might even be able to find some choccy biscuits too,’ she grinned as she stood and headed for the kitchen.

‘You’re a treasure,’ he said looking at his watch. Was it that time already? The teams would be back in soon, but at least he'd had some time to mull over the recent incidents without interruption.

‘Two biscuits,’ he remarked a few minutes later as Lisa handed him a plate across his desk.

Lisa smiled.

‘Thank you,’ he said. The HOLMES team were the lifeblood for this SIO. They were a constant source of support and he really appreciated them, which was why he always ensured that they were included in everything to do with the enquiry.

Dylan’s phone vibrated in his trouser pocket and he jumped, spilling his drink. Lisa laughed. ‘I put it on vibrate so it wouldn’t ring in debrief,’ he said. ‘I’ll never get used to it doing that.’ Dylan’s face flushed as he pressed the buttons to read the message.

Hiya, been baby clothes shopping with Dawn. She sends her love. All okay,
said the text from Jen. Dylan closed his eyes. Bless her. She knew how busy he was but also how concerned he was about Dawn so she’d gone to see her. Now he knew Dawn was okay he didn’t need to worry about ringing her any more.

Thank you, love. You’re a star x
he replied.

Jen grimaced as she felt the baby kick her under her ribs.

Dylan dunked his biscuit in his drink and thought instantly of Dawn. How often had he seen her do that and lose half of it? He smiled as he popped the soggy biscuit in his mouth remembering how she would chase the remnants around her cup with a spoon. His phone vibrated again.

Just opened a letter from the hospital. They want to give me another scan – think you can make it,
he read.

Try keep me away x

Jen knew he meant every word but she also knew she could be quite easily going alone.

Vicky knocked at his door and, seeing him put down his mobile, she entered his office and closed the door behind her.

‘You’ll never guess what?’ she said sitting down opposite him, a look of bewilderment on her face.

‘What?’ said Dylan?

‘Guess who was there when I called on Sharon McDonald?’ she whispered.

Dylan smirked. ‘A uniformed sergeant by any chance?’

Vicky looked disappointed. ‘You knew he’d be there? Thanks a bunch,’ she said, throwing the piece of paper she was carrying with her on the desk. ‘I’ve never been more embarrassed in my life.’

‘You embarrassed?’ he laughed. ‘Now that is something I’d like to see,’ he scoffed.

‘I’m jealous though,’ she said dreamily.

‘What? I can arrange for you to spend more time with Sergeant Palmer if you like?’ he said, amused.

‘No silly, she’s got the proudest looking tits you’ve ever seen… and they’re not…’ she grabbed her own bought and paid for large bosoms in both hands, ‘even implants, I might add,’ she said looking down her own top.

‘She, being the cat's mother or Ms McDonald?’ Dylan asked, taking a sip of his coffee.

Vicky ignored him. ‘She is the cat’s mother. Sharon opened the door in the shortest skirt; I swear she looked like she was going to a gypsy wedding. Well, she may as well have been bloody topless, and,’ she continued aghast, ‘not only that; she was wearing red high heeled shoes too. Well you know what they say about red shoes don’t you, boss?’ she added, leaning towards him, arms crossed and wide eyed.

Dylan laughed.

‘Enough to give you a bloody thrombosis, I’ll tell you.’ she cried.

Dylan laughed a hearty laugh.

‘Anyhow, there’re way too big for me actually,’ she said screwing up her nose. ‘I’m quite happy with my babies, thank you,’ she quipped.

‘You are a drama queen,’ Dylan said, shaking his head.

‘I’m so not.’ she said. ‘That bloody Sergeant had his tie off.’

Dylan sat grinning. ‘It’s warm, there is nothing wrong with an open necked shirt.’

‘Well, straight up I got the distinct impression he’d been there for a while, especially when she asked him if he wanted another top up or something stronger,’ she said.

Dylan laughed out loud.

‘You’ll see boss, he’ll still have a glow about him when he gets back for the debrief. That’s if he makes it.’

‘More importantly did you get the statement from her?’

‘It’s not funny. I had to sit there asking her questions and she was nearly sat on his bloody lap.’

‘Vicky, did you get a statement?’

‘Yes, but I think I’m suffering from shock.’ she cried, hand to her brow.

‘I’ll send you for counselling afterwards, damn it, but what did she say,’ he said.

‘I’d rather have a lager and black,’ she grinned.

‘The statement, Vicky?’ Dylan growled.

‘The boys were in McDonalds. Denton chatted her up and she agreed to meet them, so she wrote her phone number on his arm – end of. She’s a nympho, boss, I swear.’

Dylan was still grinning, ‘Did you get all her details?’

‘Didn’t need to, did I? I’m sure Purvy Palmer got them down and yes, I mean her details. I wouldn’t bother going there boss, you’d get fed up waiting in the queue. She’s a very popular girl is our Shaz McDonald, so they tell me. I hope sweaty Palmer doesn’t catch something. She’s known on the street as Big Mac.’

‘One shouldn’t make assumptions Vicky. He is there on police business. He’s Tim Whitworth’s Sergeant and PC Whitworth allegedly spent the night there in a drunken state with her on the night Denton got killed, so he’s every right to take his time taking a thorough statement.’

‘She’s well known on the shift you know. McDonalds' a coffee spot for officers. There’ll be trouble there in the future, mark my words, unless they want to be in the Sunday Sport. I can see the headline now. ‘Big Mac’s Bobbies.’

‘And what do you know about the Sunday Sport?’ asked Dylan.

‘Long story, about a red-blooded rugby player I dated for a while – what a bloody loser he turned out to be. Always had a copy in his van. Yuk.’ Vicky’s face fell. ‘Why do I always attract them eh? What I need is a nice decent, honest guy,’ she sulked. ‘You ain’t got a younger brother boss, have you?’ she said seriously.

‘No, sorry,’ he chuckled. ‘But thanks for the vote of confidence in this situation. And you don’t need to worry, if I have to go anywhere near her or McDonalds I’ll take you with me for protection. How’z about that?’

Dylan heard the girls in the office laugh out loud a few minutes after Vicky had left his office. He shook his head and smiled.

‘I wish the criminal grapevine was as good.’ he yelled and looked up from his work to see a sea of raised eyebrows and broad smiles.

‘Oh, you wouldn’t begrudge us a bit of gossip would you, sir?’ Lisa said.

Dylan, smiled and shook his head before turning to face his calendar on the wall. If he didn’t get a breakthrough soon on the Mildred Sykes murder he knew he would have a review team breathing down his neck; as if he didn’t have enough pressure, he sighed.

Twenty minutes later, the debriefing began.

It wasn’t long before Taylor returned from the Forresters' home, just in time for the debrief.

‘Pam’s mobile has already been seized by the Child Protection Unit, I’ve been told, and Danny Denton’s number was stored along with text messages from him. It looks as though the love-struck teenager has kept them all.

'Her clothing and relevant samples have been sent to Forensics so the rape investigation is well underway, but Bill Forrester hasn’t returned home from his golfing trip which means he can’t be eliminated from the enquiry into Denton’s murder and Greenwood’s attempted murder, yet,’ she said.

‘Because Mrs Forrester and Pam haven’t seen him since Denton was killed I didn’t think it was right to tell them about the murder or that Billy Greenwood’s life is on the line,’ said Taylor. ‘Have you spoken to the press? I told them I’d update them, sir.’

‘Taylor, don’t worry about press. I don’t want anyone to speak to them just yet,’ snapped Dylan. ‘What’s up with you woman? You’re obsessed with the press.’

Taylor bit her lip and her face flushed with embarrassment.

Just then there was a tap at the door and Sergeant Palmer slunk quietly into the room to a few sniggers. Vicky nudged Lisa. She was right, he did have a glow about his face. Vicky stared knowingly at Dylan. He cleared his throat and carried on.

‘Nice of you to join us Sergeant. Have you anything you want to share with us?’

‘Sir, sorry I’m late,’ he said, bristling. ‘I … I’ve been having an interesting chat with Sharon McDonald,’ he said. The Sergeant had everyone’s undivided attention. ‘She confirms that PC Whitworth was blind drunk when he came into the restaurant, er… McDonalds where she works, which is why she took him back to hers where he crashed out for the night.'

‘When she says crashed out?’ asked Dylan.

‘Ah, he was so drunk he could hardly stand, sir. Apparently he collapsed on her kitchen floor and that’s where he stayed till this morning. She tells me his T-shirt was covered in blood. She thought he’d been in a fight but she says he could quite easily have fallen in the state he was in. She believed the blood had come from his nose.’

‘And his clothing, has it been washed?’

‘No, I’ve got it here bagged and tagged for Forensics and he has confirmed to me that it is his. I just took notes of what she can tell us at this moment so I could get back for this meeting. I’ve arranged for her to be seen again for a detailed statement because she says Tim Whitworth was mumbling about Denton followed his daughter home from school and threatening her.’

‘Is this the same lady you saw earlier today?’ Dylan said.

‘Yes, It is, sir,’ Vicky said, looking Dylan straight in the eye. ‘Basically, two lads, who told her their names were Danny and Billy, came into McDonalds where she works. It was quiet, they got chatting and she arranged to see them again. I’ve seized the CCTV tape from McDonalds and it is being copied as we speak. The original will be retained as the master. Then we can view it. She says nothing untoward happened and she confirmed she wrote her phone number on his arm because she wanted to see them again.’

‘Is there anything else you need from her that I could get for you when I go back?’ Sergeant Palmer asked Vicky.

Vicky looked at Dylan and then to Sergeant Palmer. ‘Oh, I think you’ve got your hands full with your own enquiries, thanks Sarge,’ she said politely. ‘But, I’ll let you know if anything comes up.’

‘Thank you Vicky. At least that accounts for the phone number written on Denton’s arm – and thanks Sarge for getting stuck in… in respect of PC Whitworth’s movements, that is,’ he said.

Vicky held her mobile in the air, signalling that she had to take the call.

Dylan continued. ‘Okay, I’ve arranged for a warrant to be obtained from the duty magistrates for the search of Stevenson’s house. Let’s see what’s in the property including documents referring to any of his clients. I’ve also asked for a list from the Coroner of elderly people who have died in Harrowfield lately to see if there is any connection, plus we are still awaiting the financial investigation result. Does our Mr Stevenson prey on the elderly? We’ll do the searches tomorrow morning.’

Vicky re-entered the room. ‘Boss, Billy Greenwood’s been taken back into theatre, he’s got internal bleeding,’ she said. ‘It doesn’t sound good.’

‘Bloody hell.’ said Dylan. ‘Has he said anything?’ he asked, anxiously.

She shrugged her shoulders. ‘Not that I know of, sir.’

‘It sounds like it’s highly likely he’s not going to be able to help us now.’

Dylan rang Jen as he left the building, ‘Setting off now love, what’s for tea? Please don’t tell me it’s McDonalds?’ he laughed.

‘As if. I’ll give you McDonalds. Get yourself home’.

‘On my way, boss.’

‘Shall we discuss baby’s names? Dylan asked, as he yawned loudly.

‘Let’s wait to see if your eyes are still open when I’ve finished washing the pots first,’ Jen said, rolling her eyes as she handed him his coffee cup.

‘Yeah, good plan,’ he said. Stretching, he yawned yet again as he stood on his tiptoes and touched the kitchen ceiling.

‘If I’ve got my eyes closed when you come in I might be just having two minutes,’ he smiled as he rubbed his tired eyes.

Jen unpacked the bags of clothes that she had bought and folding them lovingly, she laid them out in the drawers of the nursery. She touched the border that they had bought as the basis for the rest of the decor and a warm feeling ran through her body. It was a good thing that they’d had a decorator in to paint the walls, if she’d waited for Dylan she knew she would have waited forever.

Perhaps this could be her ‘happy place’ in which she could take herself mentally during the birth. It was hard to believe that before her next birthday, before Christmas, she would be ‘mummy’.

The clock struck ten. Jen woke Dylan.

‘Bedtime, sleepy head,’ she whispered as she shook his arm so they could go to bed. ‘I think we’ll just call the baby Buttons for now shall we?’

‘Suits me,’ he grinned, sheepishly.