Confession (The Mark Pemberton Cases Book 3)

by Nicholas Rhea

  ‘And that’s all?’

  ‘Well, he spoke to the priest for some time afterwards, whispering a fairly lengthy confession. I don’t know what else he said. Those are the words I heard, Lorraine — they’re beyond dispute. He would never lie under such circumstances.’

  ‘But even so, Mark, there could have been other murders,’ she suggested. ‘He said, “I committed murder…” not “I have committed a murder”. He didn’t restrict it to one murder when he used that expression.’

  ‘Yes, I know that part’s open to interpretation, but the reference to his victim was definitely in the singular. Surely that suggests only one killing, a single murder.’

  ‘You must admit there’s an element of doubt.’ She sipped from her glass. ‘I don’t think we can rule him out as a serial killer simply on the basis of his reference to one victim. That particular woman or girl might have meant something to him; we don’t know what was going through his mind when he said she didn’t deserve that — whatever “that” is. And what about the priest? Would another chat with him establish just what Browning confessed to? He might have admitted some earlier crimes to him, after the stage where you couldn’t hear what he was saying?’

  ‘If he did, there’s no way we can get Father Flynn to tell us. If there had been any chance of Browning going to court, then we could have summoned the priest to appear as a witness but even then he’d never reveal what was said to him. He made that abundantly clear to me. But all that is academic — Browning is beyond human justice and there will be no court case, which means Father Flynn will never be a witness. And I do know what I heard.’

  ‘But you didn’t hear everything he said to the priest, Mark; you admit that.’

  ‘I know I didn’t,’ he sighed. ‘And that’s what’s so frustrating. I wish I had heard the lot.’

  ‘And you mustn’t overlook the fact he might have confessed to other murders on previous occasions,’ she reminded him. ‘You’ve admitted that likelihood already, even though it’s something you will never know.’

  ‘You could be right,’ he had to admit.

  ‘And like Father Flynn, that other priest or priests would not be able to alert the authorities. They couldn’t even discuss it among themselves. Imagine being told by a killer about a long-running series of vicious murders he’d committed and not being able to do anything about it!’

  ‘I accept that, but as I said earlier, a man wouldn’t kill someone, confess it, and then go off and kill someone else, would he?’

  ‘A madman might do it a year later, someone who’s not in full control of themselves. We both know there are some mighty weird people in our society.’

  ‘And they keep us in work!’ he sighed.

  ‘Mark…’ She turned to face him now, resting her hands on his knees. ‘You and I both know that in the world of crime detection, coincidence is a rare event. In this case, you heard a man confess to the murder of a female and within hours, a murdered prostitute turns up not far away. Is that a coincidence or not? Since then, other factors have come to light which suggest that the body in question is the victim of a serial killer.’

  He butted in. ‘It’s more than a suggestion, Lorraine.’

  ‘All right. It’s a fact beyond dispute. But even so, our chief suspect, a man who admitted murder, is known to have been in the vicinity of all those crimes. Can you say that is all mere coincidence, Mark?’

  He shrugged his shoulders. ‘Go on.’

  ‘Add to those coincidences the fact that only this evening we found a pair of sandals in the suspect’s garage, women’s sandals which are the same colour and type as those taken from one of those eleven victims by the serial killer. Mark, tell me this — what else must we discover about Browning before you are convinced of his guilt? Hasn’t the time come to write off those murders — all of them — and have them recorded as detected? And log the fact that Browning was the guilty person?’

  ‘I am not going to do that, Lorraine, because even now we have no conclusive evidence against him.’

  ‘And suppose we can prove those sandals did belong to one of the Strangler’s victims? Would that convince you?’

  ‘I would want to know where the other ten pairs were,’ he said. ‘And none has turned up anywhere. And I’d want to know how the sandals came to be in his possession. If we found every missing pair and could positively link them to him and link him to the scenes of the murders, then I might be convinced.’ He leant forward to kiss the top of her head. ‘But not until!’

  ‘You’re a stubborn Yorkshireman!’ she responded. ‘I just hope we can get this one sorted out before too long.’

  ‘We usually do! We’ve an excellent detection record!’

  ‘Yes, we’re among the best. But come along, life’s not all work and sleep. We’re not supposed to be talking shop at home. It’s bedtime!’

  Resting her hands upon his knees, she levered herself from the floor, took his hand and led him towards the bedroom.

  Detective Sergeant Tony Browne and DC Maureen Cox, the team to whom Inspector Larkin had allocated the action to trace the history of the MG Roadster, had done so without a lot of difficulty and were waiting for Pemberton as he entered the incident room at eight-thirty next morning. With ample time before the conference of detectives, he led them into his office.

  ‘So what can you tell me?’ he invited.

  ‘Browning’s car, sir,’ began Sergeant Browne. ‘It’s a 1971 MG Roadster, open top, two-seater, red colour as you know. It’s always been red, no colour change is recorded. It was first registered on 27th April 1971. Between then and 1987, it had two owners and, in 1987, was purchased by a Hugh Dawlish whose address was then given as Tunbridge Wells in Kent. He sold it to James Bowman Browning in 1991, on 1st July to be precise, and the address for Browning is the one we have at Bleagill near Harlow Spa. Dawlish later moved to the Midlands where he now lives.’

  ‘Was it a direct sale? Not through a garage or dealer?’

  ‘No, sir, a direct sale. We have established that Dawlish is a friend of Browning’s.’

  ‘That’s useful evidence,’ Pemberton smiled.

  ‘It goes back a long time. They were together at the Swangate College of Media Studies in County Durham and have kept in touch ever since. I’ve had discussions with Scenes of Crime at Harlow Spa about their search of the garage, and with Traffic Department. Dawlish’s name is in Browning’s address book, the one he kept in his flat, and it’s also in several diaries and books we found in the garage.’

  ‘Does he know of Browning’s death?’

  ‘I don’t know, sir; we haven’t contacted him. He was out when our officers called. Anyway, I believe Mr Browning senior was going to inform relatives and close friends?’

  ‘Yes, he was. So where does Dawlish live now? You’ve got an address?’

  ‘Yes, near Derby, sir, a village called Findford-on-Trent.’

  ‘And do we know his profession or anything about him?’

  ‘No, sir, other than to say that Browning’s address book does confirm it is the Hugh Dawlish he befriended at college — it contains all the changed addresses, with appropriate amendments.’

  ‘I want to know more about this Hugh Dawlish,’ Pemberton put to his team. ‘Is that something you could do as an action?’

  ‘Yes, sir, we’d be delighted,’ Browne spoke for both.

  ‘All right, find out all you can about him and what sort of car he runs. Like Browning, he might have two, don’t forget, one of them an old MG. Tell Inspector Larkin I’ve asked you to look into all that but be very discreet. I don’t want Dawlish to know of our interest; a lot depends upon what you discover.’

  ‘Yes, sir, thanks,’ and the two detectives disappeared to undertake their actions.

  Before the morning conference of his detectives began, Pemberton wanted to know what Scenes of Crime had discovered in the garage and rang Harlow Spa CID to speak to Holroyd.

  ‘He’s left the office, sir; he’s on his w
ay to see you at Rainesbury — he should be with you any time now,’ David Holroyd’s secretary told him. As if in confirmation, there was a knock on Pemberton’s door and his secretary showed in Detective Inspector Holroyd.

  ‘I thought it would be better if I brought the findings with me,’ he said by way of explanation for his arrival. ‘It’s easier than dealing with them on the phone, and I thought I’d like to sit in on your conference, sir, if that’s in order.’

  ‘Seems a good idea to me,’ said Pemberton. ‘The more brains I get working on this, the better. Coffee before we start?’

  ‘Thanks, sir.’

  And so, over a mug of coffee, Holroyd provided Pemberton with the preliminary results of last night’s search.

  ‘The main thing,’ he told Pemberton, ‘is that there is no evidence of a murder or rape having occurred in the garage. It is not the scene of any crime, we’re sure about that. And Forensic support us. The next point is that Browning appears to have used the garage as a place to keep everything to do with the old car and his rallies. He kept this aspect of his life quite separate from his domestic routine at the flat, but we don’t know why. It was almost like two lives. Notices about events, copies of letters, repair bills for his car, lists of venues — the lot, it’s all in his garage, stored and filed meticulously as we’ve come to expect of him. One important confirmation has arisen, sir, something we’ve already established — his summer holidays, until this year that is, do coincide with rallies of vintage MG cars somewhere in the country. We know he attended them; we found entries in a diary he kept in the drawer of that desk in the garage. He was not a member of a local club but was a member of the Findford-on-Trent Vintage Car Club. He had a friend down there—’

  ‘Hugh Dawlish, a former college friend, the man who sold him the MG?’

  ‘That’s right, sir. You knew that?’

  Pemberton acquainted Holroyd with a brief history of the MG. ‘So we know his interest in the marque originated with Dawlish, and he sold him that car. They went rallying together?’

  ‘Yes, sir, there were letters from Dawlish in the garage, filed away neatly. They were just to confirm the arrangements for the rallies — they used the events as a kind of reunion. It seems to have been the only such meeting they had during the year, but it happened every year. From comments in some of the letters, it seems they kept in touch by telephone about major events in their lives. The diaries contain both his office and home numbers — and a mobile!’

  ‘David, I’m going to have Dawlish investigated.’

  ‘Good, I was going to suggest that, sir. You remember that photo in the garage? The one showing Browning with a man called Hugh?’

  ‘I’m sure that was Dawlish,’ Pemberton said.

  ‘Right, well, I’ve had copies made for your teams. So what about Browning? Do we drop him now?’

  ‘I don’t think so, David. I’m not convinced he’s our Sandal Strangler, I’ll be honest with you, but we must keep him high in the frame if we’re to find out what he was up to. But I’ve asked DS Browne and DC Cox to target Dawlish — I want him looked at very thoroughly and most discreetly before we pull him in for interview.’

  ‘You regard him as a serious suspect?’

  ‘I do, either alone or acting with Browning. There’s a possibility that two men might have been involved in the Sandal Stranglings. It’s just a hint at this stage, nothing more. Suppose Dawlish and Browning met during their rallies? Suppose they were operating as a team? Maybe one drove the other to the scene or something. Maybe one committed the murders while the other knew nothing about it…but it’s all speculation, David. If we are to sort this one out, I don’t want Dawlish alerted to our interest, not yet. Let’s proceed softly, softly! If Dawlish is the serial killer, or if he has been involved in any way, he’s managed to keep himself out of the frame for all these years, and that means he’s no fool. Let’s consider Mr Dawlish as a prime suspect while not forgetting he’s a very clever one.’

  ‘Dawlish does feature strongly in Browning’s life, even if they met only once a year. There are lots of references to him in Browning’s diaries, often just notes to say “Rang Hugh” every couple of weeks or so, but no one else gets that kind of treatment. In spite of their few meetings, I am sure Dawlish was Browning’s best friend or even a confidant.’

  ‘Any hint of anything romantic between them, David? Or with anyone else?’

  ‘Not a scrap, sir, no, although in Browning’s case, there’s no evidence that he had regular girlfriends. I don’t know about Dawlish’s girlfriends. Now, the pair of blue sandals. They’ve gone off to Forensic to see if they can tie them in with any of the scenes. The 1991 victim — Rachel Pennock — was found in a beech wood, so if any of the earth stuck to her sandals, it can be compared with the control sample taken at the time. And there is a photo of her wearing the sandals, taken two days before she died. I don’t have it, but the local force — Lincolnshire — is sending copies along to you. I said they should send them here.’

  As they talked, Detective Inspector Kirkdale arrived; Pemberton motioned him to be seated as the discussion continued.

  ‘Good, now, David, how confident are we about those sandals?’

  ‘I’m fairly sure they belonged to Rachel Pennock, sir. If that is the case, it puts Browning at that murder scene.’

  ‘So you think Browning is the Sandal Strangler?’ Pemberton put to David Holroyd.

  ‘Everything points that way, sir. The sandals would clinch it — they’d be damned good evidence in any trial, pretty conclusive I’d say, that’s if we can prove they came from Rachel.’

  Pemberton turned to Kirkdale and reiterated his theory about Dawlish, asking, ‘Gregory, suppose we prove that Dawlish was the last man to see Debbie Hall alive — would that affect your opinion of Browning?’

  ‘I would most certainly investigate the possibility of both men being involved.’ He was emphatic about this. ‘In Debbie’s case, we know that Browning was alive at eight on the evening she disappeared, don’t we? The time she was last seen alive. He was alive until the following Tuesday which means he could have killed her.’

  ‘Right, but it wasn’t him who was seen with her. It was a tall, dark man about thirty years of age. He was seen escorting Debbie on the sea-front at Rainesbury the night she disappeared. It might have been Dawlish. We need to have him identified in person by that barman, Eddie Brodie. A photo identification would be a good start.’

  ‘But if Dawlish did escort her away for a walk or whatever, it doesn’t exclude Browning, sir. He might have been waiting in the background, with the car perhaps. If both were involved, that might have been their MO. One to find the victim, the other to murder or rape her.’

  ‘I’m having the car park checked; the security cameras might show if Browning’s MG was there.’

  ‘Does Dawlish have an MG?’ asked Holroyd. ‘Has that been established?’

  ‘That’s something I’ve asked the team to find out,’ said Pemberton. ‘Although, according to Gregory, there’s been no reports of any cars at or near the scenes, certainly nothing so distinctive as a red MG.’

  Kirkdale nodded his agreement.

  ‘Now I’ve got the prints of Dawlish,’ suggested Holroyd, ‘shall I show one to Brodie before the conference? I’d like to be useful while I’m here.’

  ‘Yes, do that. He works at the Lobster on the sea-front.’

  ‘Right, sir, I’ll run down there straight away. If he’s not at work yet, I can trace him. Back soon!’

  And so Detective Inspector Holroyd left to go about his essential piece of work as Kirkdale returned to his own office. Pemberton decided he must see Mr Browning senior before he came to collect his son’s belongings. At least Pemberton now had an excuse to seize and retain the items — Dawlish. He rang the Road Traffic Department, and asked for PC Broadbent; he had just come on duty.

  ‘It’s Pemberton here. There’s been a development in the murder enquiry. It means I can’t let Mr
Browning have his son’s belongings, not just yet, nor can I allow him access to the flat or garage at this stage. I need to talk to him. Call me when he comes in, will you?’

  ‘He’s here now, sir, in the front office.’

  Pemberton groaned. ‘I’ll be right down,’ he said.

  Chapter Twelve

  Rather nervously, Pemberton invited Mr Browning into the duty inspector’s office and bade him be seated. Taking a deep breath, he began. ‘Mr Browning, there’s been a development, not a very pleasant one from your point of view. I’m sorry to have to impart this news—’

  ‘The brakes, you mean? Was it sabotage after all?’

  ‘No, I’m not referring to the accident. It’s about a murder enquiry that is under way in Rainesbury — you know about it?’

  ‘Yes, I do. The prostitute. I’ve seen it in the papers,’

  Pemberton paused, took another deep breath and continued. ‘In every murder case, Mr Browning, there are lots of suspects, people whom we have to eliminate in order to track down the real killer. Innocent people, Mr Browning, people who were in the vicinity at the time, for example, personal enemies, business acquaintances, a whole range of people. They’re all brought into our net and questioned. I’m sure you appreciate the need for that.’

  ‘Yes, I think so.’

  There was a puzzled frown on Mr Browning’s face as he slowly began to appreciate the direction of Pemberton’s statements.

  ‘Your son’s movements have brought him into focus — with others, I might add. You know that already, I’m sure. Even though he is dead, we need to eliminate him from our enquiries. I’m sure you realise that it is necessary to interview and eliminate lots of people during the process of bringing the killer to justice.’

  ‘Yes, I can understand that.’

  ‘In James’s case, it means I must retain all his personal belongings, for the time being that is. I must also seal his flat and the garage where he kept his Roadster. We have to examine everything he owned, all that he used, to make sure nothing belonging to him was used in the crime.’