White Lilies (24 page)

Dylan’s phone flashed DS John Benjamin’s name. Technology was bloody good these days. To know who was ringing before you picked the phone up was a godsend –  sometimes. ‘John,’ he said on answering it.

‘We’ve broken down. We’re on the hard shoulder off the M1 about eighty miles away from home,’ John shouted.

Dylan could hear the high-pitched screech of a woman’s voice in the distance amongst the whoosh of traffic, then he heard a door slam. It was quieter – John must have got into the car.

‘Taylor’s onto Vehicle Fleet Management playing hell. The car’s just been serviced according to the log book but I think it’s the fan belt that’s gone.’

‘Can’t you use a flaming stocking,’ yelled Dylan in exasperation.

‘A what?’ John looked down at Taylor’s trouser covered legs. ‘I don’t think.’

‘Oh, never mind,’ said Dylan as he put his hand to his brow. ‘Look, give me your exact location and I’ll get a garage out to you.’

‘I’ve already arranged for the motorway cops to ferry us to the end of the motorway. Our lads are picking us up there as per Dennis.’

‘Good man. Make sure you get out and wait on the banking for them. Motorways are dangerous places,’ Dylan said involuntarily shuddering as he remembered a job he’d once dealt with where a whole family had been killed by a heavy goods vehicle while waiting on the hard shoulder in their car after they’d broken down on a motorway.

‘Now you sound like my dad,’ he said.

‘Mmm … thanks,’ Dylan mumbled. ‘But you wouldn’t say that if you’d seen the carnage I’d seen.’

‘Yes, boss, sorry,’ John said, in a more sombre tone.

‘Let me know when your arrival’s imminent. I’ve gotta go mate, we’ve got a young lad been stabbed in the precinct and it’s not looking good’.

‘Gang related?’

‘No, first reports suggest it’s one man.’

‘Known to him?’

‘Initial enquiries seem to suggest it’s a stranger.’

‘Gotta be a nutter then, surely?’

‘Time’ll tell,’ Dylan said. ‘Never assume.’

‘See you soon, boss,’ John said.

Dylan inhaled deeply as he walked back into the CID office.

‘How’re you doing with the recent releases and the return to the care of the community, Dennis?’ he asked.

‘Still compiling a list boss and then I’ve gotta run the names through the system. I thought there’d only be one or two but there are bloody loads.’

John was right, Dylan conceded. It probably was somebody with mental problems who was out roaming the streets of Harrowfield. That’s all Dylan needed, and if his victims were being chosen at random, God knew where he’d strike next?

‘Message for you, boss.’

Dylan looked up from his writing; pen in his hand.

‘Cells say the duty solicitor is from Perfect and Best who have been contacted and to let them know when you’re ready to start interviewing,’ said Vicky.

‘Have you heard from John?’

Vicky shook her head.

‘They’ve broken down. ’

‘Shame,’ she said, shrugging her shoulders.

‘Vicky,’ Dylan growled. Vicky looked sheepish.

‘Just a thought boss,’ she said, changing the subject before he gave her a lecture on how capable Taylor was as a DS. ‘On the stabbing incident, if the young lad dies and I hope to God he doesn’t, but if he does and it was due to the adverse reaction to something the hospital staff did, would it still be murder?’

‘It would be about causation. If he hadn’t been stabbed he wouldn’t be in the hospital. If he hadn’t been taken to hospital then would he have died because of blood loss as a direct result of the stabbing?’

‘Probably,’ she said with a frown.

‘So, you’ve got your answer then.’

‘We’d charge murder,’ she said. Dylan nodded.

‘And the defence would have all the relevant case law out about causation to defend their client, but the bottom line in my book is, did the attacker, when he stabbed him, intend to kill him, and did he die as a result?’

Vicky nodded. ‘Guilty, but hopefully the young lad won’t die, eh?’

Dylan cocked his head and smiled wanly at his DC. The phone rang in the CID office.

‘Call for you boss. It’s Sergeant Wilson from the hospital,’ Dennis shouted. ‘I’ll put him through.’

‘I’ll come in there,’ Dylan said, rising from his desk and walking the few yards to the desk Dennis was sitting at. Dylan took the phone from him. His face looked serious. He sat down.

‘Sir, a few updates for you, first and foremost the young lad's stable.’

Dylan heard himself sighing with relief and his heart lifted.

‘The wound, they tell me, is about three inches deep but fortunately it’s missed his vital organs and they’ve managed to stem the bleeding. His parents are here and are obviously distraught, but I’ve explained best I can what’s happened. They tell me that their son had gone into town to the florist to collect flowers for his sister’s birthday.’

‘And his name?’

‘Oh, yes, James Drinkwater, and he’s fourteen.’

‘And his parents?’ Dylan asked, pen poised as he grabbed a piece of scrap paper and sat down at a desk.

‘His parents are a Julia and George Drinkwater.’

‘His clothing?’

‘It’s here,’ Vicky whispered, pointing to evidence bags at her feet.

‘Vicky Hardacre has them, sir, I understand.’

‘Yes, she’s just informed me,’ said Dylan.

‘I’ve some statements for you so I’ll drop them into your office within the hour.’

‘Brilliant, thanks for your efforts and see you soon,’ Dylan said.

‘Sounds like I’d better get my lippy on if that gorgeous Sarge’s coming,’ said Vicky raising her eyebrow in an impish fashion. She winked at him and tottered towards the ladies. He shook his head and Dennis smiled at him knowingly. What was he to do with her?

‘Hey, never mind lippy where’s the copy of the CCTV?’ Dylan shouted, after her.

‘It’ll be with you anytime now,’ Vicky called over her shoulder.

Jasmine glided through the door. As she saw Dylan her brown eyes lit up and her thin face broke into a smile. The petite SOCO supervisor’s long brown hair was tied in a high ponytail, which made her look younger than she normally did.

‘Boss, did you want to see the knife from the precinct incident?’ she asked.

‘Please,’ Dylan said, walking into his office. She followed close behind.

Dylan sat at his desk expectantly and she passed the sealed protective tube with the knife inside to him. Dylan looked at the prized object laid on his desk with interest.

‘I’ve swabbed it but surprisingly it doesn’t appear to have any blood on it; the lab will confirm that for you though.’

Dylan picked up the tube and held it in the air, studying it intently.

‘Oh my God are your eyes that bad?’ said Vicky, who had returned and was standing at his door. Her hair was brushed, her glossy lips puckered like she had just eaten something sour.

‘Cheeky mare,’ Dylan said, glancing towards her.

‘Well, you know what they say you should’ve listened to them when they told you it would make you blind,’ she chuckled. Jasmine blushed.

Dylan laughed. ‘My sight might not be brilliant lady, but if I’m not mistaken the very tiny tip of this blade just happens to be missing. Jasmine?’

‘You don’t miss much do you?’ she said, ‘and I’m convinced it’s the knife that was used on Greenwood and killed Denton.’

‘No.’ Vicky said, hurriedly walking towards Dylan to look for herself. Hearing the commotion, Dennis walked into the office doorway.

‘Ooh, wait on, I might have something that may help,’ Vicky said, turning quickly and running into Dennis in her rush to get the magnifying glass out of her drawer.

‘I knew this useless Christmas present from my Nan would come in handy one day,’ she said, fumbling around in her drawer.

Gathering around Dylan’s desk, they all stared in amazement at the picture of the tip Jasmine produced.

‘Coincidence or what?’ Vicky said, peering through the looking glass.

‘Well, fingers crossed that it can be proven later today?’ Dylan asked, Jasmine who nodded in the affirmative. ‘Let’s stay on the positive and assume it is ‘the’ knife’, but right now we need to find out who it belongs to before our man attacks anyone else. Let’s prioritise anyone returned to the care of the community and early releases – and let’s get that bloody CCTV Vicky pronto and see what this man looks like.’

‘Knife to the lab ASAP?’

‘Yeah, on its way now, sir,’ Jasmine smiled, as she disappeared through the doorway.

Dylan looked out of his window. Avril Summerfield-Preston, the Divisional Administrator, was getting into her car, parcel in hand.

‘She’s just going to visit Jen, she told me when I saw her just now in the loo,’ said Vicky. Dylan grunted.

‘For goodness sake, can’t the woman leave her alone she’s supposed to be resting,’

‘Welfare check.’

‘Welfare my arse, she’ll only go and upset her. Does Jen know she’s going?’

Vicky shrugged her shoulders.

‘I better ring her to warn her,’ Dylan said, picking up his mobile. The battery was dead. He took his charger out of his briefcase and was just about to plug it in when Dennis came charging into his office.

‘Boss, you might wanna have a look at this guy who has come back into the community recently,’ Dennis said, going back to his chair in the office and turning his computer screen around towards his audience. ‘Released on life licence at the beginning of last month,’ he read.

‘Frederick Gladwin Wainstall, twenty-nine years old who was sentenced to life imprisonment at the age of eighteen for murdering his parents, who died from multiple stab wounds,’ read Vicky.

‘He only served nine years. Nine bloody years and released on life licence which was revoked after wounding a stranger within weeks.’ Dennis read out his voice getting louder and louder with ever spoken word. ‘The weapon used; a knife.’ Dennis looked up into the faces of those who had gathered round him. ‘He’s back out.’

Dylan continued read to about Wainstall feverishly over Dennis’s shoulder. ‘No wonder the incident doesn’t ring any bells; it happened in Brighton,’ he said.

‘I don’t believe this, his parents were found with white lilies next to their bodies,’ Vicky said quietly.

‘Okay we need to pull out all the stops. Let’s get everyone looking for him. I want you to get hold of probation, prison, social services. We need an up-to-date photograph of him. What address have we got for him?

'It looks like we have a madman on the loose who may just be looking for his next victim – and I for one don’t want that to happen,’ said Dylan.

It was like lighting a blue touch paper. There needed to be a sense of urgency throughout the building, in the town and villages surrounding Harrowfield. Dylan looked as a recent image of Wainstall sent by email from the prison. He printed it and carefully soaked up the man’s features. He had a shaven head, clean-shaven face except for what looked like a small goatee beard on his chin. His deep-set dark staring eyes looked vacantly back at him.

‘Brian Stevenson’s custody clock is running away with us, sir,’ said the officer from the cells who burst into the CID office, only to be met by a group of silent people crowded around the photograph.

‘Yes, yes. DS Benjamin and DS Spiers will be with you shortly,’ Dylan snapped.

The officer retreated out of the door leaving it swinging in his path.

‘Only trying to help,’ he mumbled. ‘If we don’t tell them they shout at us. If we tell them they shout… Can’t do right for doing wrong,’ he grumbled as he made his way back to the custody suite.

‘Did we get a statement off the woman who rang in about the flowers being taken off the railings?’ asked Dylan. Vicky and Dennis looked blank. ‘Check. If not, let’s get that done.’

Vicky nodded.

‘The McDonalds' CCTV, have you viewed that yet for around the time when Denton and Greenwood were in there?’ Dylan asked Dennis.

‘No, not yet you told me to concentrate on prison releases,’ Dennis said.

Dennis took the envelope from his tray with the CCTV video enclosed and slotted it in the machine. He looked at the monitor then back at Dylan with a startled expression upon his face.

‘Look, that’s him; sat in the corner, the man in the wool hat holding the flowers,’ he said

‘Let’s get the video to Imaging and get it enhanced,’ said Dylan, with more than a hint of urgency in his voice.

‘Traffic’ll get it there at speed, Vicky.’

‘Traffic’ll do what?’ asked Sergeant Wilson.

‘My hero,’ said Vicky.

‘What?’ he asked, with a puzzled look on his face.

‘Oh, nothing, ignore her,’ Dylan said. ‘Get this to HQ will you mate ASAP. And take Hardacre with you. She’s about as useless as a glass hammer to me at the moment,’ he said quietly, winking at Sergeant Wilson. ‘And she’ll be able to fill you in on the way,’ said Dylan.