by J. R. Ellis
The first man joined in the baiting. ‘It’s on your record though, Phil, the police will always be suspicious of your type. A leopard can’t change its spots.’
‘What do you mean, “my type”?’
‘A danger to the public,’ said the curly-haired man in a sanctimonious voice imitating a pompous judge. His girlfriend laughed.
Owen gave his friend two fingers. ‘As if,’ he said. ‘I’m not as much of a danger to the public as you when you get behind the wheel of that car.’ He looked at the woman. ‘I don’t know how you dare drive with him.’
The curly-haired man was a car mechanic and he ran a souped-up car that he’d driven in rallies. Most of the time he drove as if he was actually in a rally.
‘He goes slower when I’m with him,’ she said. ‘I make him.’
Owen laughed again and he took another drink of his beer. He tried to conceal the fact that their teasing had rattled him. He hoped the police wouldn’t look too closely at his past.
Four
It was brilliant moonlight and the soft effect of the light over sea and sky . . . was beautiful beyond words. Between me and the moonlight flitted a great bat, coming and going in great whirling circles.
From Mina Murray’s Journal in Dracula
‘I’ve got two very interesting bits of information for you, sir,’ said Inspector Granger.
‘Go on,’ replied Oldroyd. He was back in Whitby reviewing the case in Granger’s office. He and Deborah had checked into their hotel, which was near the Royal Hotel high up on the west side on the splendid white mid-Victorian east terrace. Deborah was having a leisurely stroll around the town while Oldroyd had come straight to Granger’s office.
‘We’ve discovered that the actor who played Dracula at the escape room, Philip Owen, has a conviction for assault. He attacked someone with a knife. So we’ll need to talk to him again.’
‘And?’
‘More important, I think: the tests have shown that the blood on the sarcophagus was Holgate’s.’
‘Have they? Well, that confirms what I suspected. Together with the fact that he was carrying the knife it supports the view that the attack was planned. He must have got a cut from the knife before he hid in the sarcophagus.’
‘But I still can’t see why he would do that instead of running out of the building? And did he know it was a trick sarcophagus with two compartments that turned round? And if he did, how did he know?’ asked Granger.
Oldroyd smiled. ‘I can see you’re also starting to question the orthodoxy. I think this confirms that we’re looking at something more complicated than what appears on the surface. Have you tracked down the owner of the Escape Room?’
‘No. Which is concerning. He would be able to tell us who else knew about the sarcophagus and so he could be in danger if there are other people involved in this. He supposedly has an office in Sheffield but the police there can’t trace it. Or him.’
Oldroyd shook his head. ‘I don’t like the sound of that. Did you manage to find the gun?’
‘Negative. The divers have searched around where Holgate’s body was found. Apparently they expected to find it and were disappointed not to, given that it was a small area and close to the edge of the water. I suppose it could have sunk in the mud or been carried away by a current. No sign of his phone either.’
‘Mmm. The more I hear, the more I’m sure we need to press on with this. I’ve got my other detective sergeant to go to London and investigate this group and Steph is going to look into Withington’s activities in Leeds. She’s also going to speak to Louise and see if anything emerges.’
Granger nodded. ‘Understood, sir. Sounds like there’s going to be more going on elsewhere than here.’
‘Maybe, but we can have another look at all the evidence we have and . . .’ A thought suddenly struck Oldroyd. ‘By the way, who gave the information about the escape room owner and his office in Sheffield?’
‘It was in DC Hampton’s report; hold on, I’ll call him.’ Granger took up her phone and spoke to Hampton. Then she turned to Oldroyd. ‘He said it was the escape room assistant Elaine Pesku who gave him that information.’
‘Sounds like she was mistaken or lying. It seems we’re starting to uncover some promising leads. I’ll leave you to question those two again.’ He stood up and smiled. ‘I’ve got something else on this afternoon.’
Steph arranged to see a detective at the Leeds HQ about Ian Withington’s business activities in the city. They met in an office in the new premises on Elland Road near the famous Leeds United football ground. He brought a file with him, which he consulted as he spoke to Steph.
‘Yes, Withington, I remember him. There were numerous complaints of dubious activities and he was interviewed a number of times but we could never pin anything on him. He was a crafty sod, but we made it uncomfortable for him. Eventually he cleared off. And you say he’s now in Whitby?’
‘Yes, he has a jewellery business specialising in Whitby jet.’
The detective smiled. ‘Does he now? Well, I’d keep a watch on him if I were you.’
‘What kind of allegations were made against him?’
‘Oh, the usual: lying about the amount of precious metals like gold that were in second-hand items of jewellery; selling stuff that was fake. Whenever we confronted him, he was very apologetic, repaid the customer and said the items had been sold to him and he’d bought them in good faith. Of course he could never remember exactly who he’d bought things from. It was difficult to prove but it was starting to happen too often, which is when he did a runner. He’s a slippery customer and his son is the same.’
‘His son?’
‘Yes. Alan Withington. They work together – father and son; the son travels a lot. We think he gets hold of the dodgy stuff, and his dad then sells it. What’s your interest in the Withingtons, anyway?’
‘I’ve been working with the police in Whitby on a murder enquiry.’
‘You mean the one where the bloke killed his girlfriend in the escape room and then committed suicide?’
‘Yep.’
‘Where does Withington fit in?’
‘It was his niece who was killed. At the moment we don’t suspect him of being directly involved, but it seems as if his niece might have been helping him with his business somehow. It’s a loose end we want to follow up.’
‘Right. Well, it might be worth talking to one or two dealers in that street near Kirkgate Market where he had his shop. I’ll give you some names and addresses. They might be able to give you a bit more information about how he operated. There was no love lost between them; they were glad to get rid of him.’
‘Come on then, I have a surprise for you!’ Oldroyd had met up with Deborah near the swing bridge. ‘Have you got your coat, like I asked?’ He was wearing a weatherproof jacket and carried a small rucksack.
‘Yes,’ replied Deborah. ‘But where on earth are we going?’
‘Out to sea,’ said Oldroyd with some excitement. ‘It’s a fine day, but it’s always cool and breezy out there. I’ve booked us onto a cruise down to Robin Hood’s Bay in one of those boats.’ He pointed towards a number of craft moored against the sea wall on Marine Parade.
‘Fantastic, how exciting!’ said Deborah as they walked towards the Autumn Queen, a brightly painted vessel, which was already filling up with customers. People were being helped down the steps by a friendly member of the crew as the boat gently bobbed up and down in the swell.
Oldroyd and Deborah managed to get seats in the bow section against the gunwale from where they had a good view as the launch cruised gently along the smooth water in the lower harbour and through the gap between the East and West Piers, passing a small lighthouse on either side. The boat then reached open sea and turned south. Immediately it became breezy and there was a salty tang in the air. The sky was clear and the sea and the horizon very bright in the sunlight. Deborah put on some dark glasses.
‘Jim! This is wonderful!’ She gave hi
m a dazzling smile.
‘I’m glad you’re enjoying it. We should see some interesting birdlife. Look out there: some gannets diving for fish!’ He produced a small pair of binoculars and trained them out to sea. Deborah looked in the same direction, and saw the large white birds in the distance; black tips on their pointed wings. They were circling high in the sky but, as she watched, one pulled in its wings and dropped at speed like a pointed missile into the water, its sharp beak hitting the sea first. It was a majestic sight and even more dramatic through the binoculars that Oldroyd passed to her. Herring gulls were following the boat and, as they passed some dark towering cliffs, there were still a few kittiwakes flying around the rocky ledges that had been their breeding ground through the summer. One or two distinctive cries were audible, but nothing to compare with the cacophony during the breeding season.
‘Are you feeling peckish?’ asked Oldroyd.
‘Now you mention it, yes,’ replied Deborah. ‘But I had no time to think about getting anything for lunch. You just swept me off my feet as it were and here we are.’
‘Never mind.’ Oldroyd removed the rucksack from his back and started to unload the contents. ‘I took the liberty, ma’am, of procuring some savoury comforts from the local purveyors,’ he said, imitating the accent and manner of the indefatigable Jeeves from the P.G. Wodehouse stories.
‘Oh, Jim! You think of everything!’
As they sat eating the excellent sandwiches, cake and fruit that Oldroyd had acquired and drinking coffee from a flask, the boat passed the picturesque village of Robin Hood’s Bay with its beautiful cottages spilling down to the seafront. A little further on they were lucky enough to see some seals basking on the rocks beneath a cliff.
On the way back, after watching some huge tankers pass in the distance, Oldroyd couldn’t resist reflecting on the Dracula story.
‘Have you ever read the novel?’ he asked.
‘No, but, like everyone else, I’ve seen lots of film versions and vampire movies. I didn’t know part of the original story was set here.’
‘Yes. That part of the story has got a bit lost but Whitby was a favourite place of Bram Stoker’s and the count arrives here in a schooner.’ He changed his tone to that of dramatic storytelling. ‘Of course the weather wasn’t like this that day. The count summoned up a storm and thick mists. When the boat arrived at Whitby all the crew were dead, including the captain who had heroically strapped himself to the helm. It was a ghost ship that horrified the people who saw it. When it ran aground on Tate Hill sands, which are just inside the harbour, a big dog leaped onshore and bounded away. The onlookers thought this odd, but they didn’t realise the full significance: that dog was Count Dracula, who had arrived in England. He could shapeshift into animals including, of course, the famous bat. In the horror and chaos of what was happening they didn’t realise that . . .’
Oldroyd stopped. After a moment Deborah looked at him. ‘Yes, Jim, go on I’m enjoying this and . . . Oh no, he’s off on one again.’
‘Sorry,’ said Oldroyd, shaking his head. ‘I am trying to switch off, but there was something there that just made me think.’
‘About the case no doubt.’
‘Yes.’
‘Don’t tell me you think Dracula was responsible for that murder.’
Oldroyd laughed. ‘No. Although the murder did take place in a Dracula-themed escape room, so maybe he did have some responsibility.’
The boat was cruising slowly into the harbour.
‘Did the victim have bite marks on her neck?’ continued Deborah, still poking fun at her partner.
‘No she didn’t. But . . .’ Oldroyd stopped and shrugged his shoulders as they got ready to disembark. ‘Wonderful! Marvellously bracing,’ he said when they were back on shore. ‘Stimulates the appetite though. Do you fancy a cup of tea and a scone? I saw into the window of a café on the way down and the scones looked enormous.’
‘Do you ever stop thinking about food!?’ laughed Deborah. ‘Except when you’re thinking about a case.’
Andy headed down the M1 with mixed feelings. It was always nice to go back to London to see family, friends and his old haunts, although he hardly thought of it as home anymore. He was keen to play his part in this case as he’d felt out of the action while Steph and Oldroyd were in Whitby. But he preferred working with Oldroyd directly. There was nothing so interesting and informative as watching his boss interrogate people and witness at close hand how his thinking on a case developed. He’d learned so much, but maybe it was time to put that knowledge into practice for himself.
He had a dossier of information and he was going to call in at the Met to see if they had anything on anyone he was investigating. His boss had also arranged for the Met to supply a DC to assist him. He passed the time on the motorway by listening to some of his favourite tracks, and stopped for coffee halfway down at Leicester Forest Services.
When he finally arrived at the Met he was pleased to see that DC Jenkins had been assigned to help him. He’d worked with Jenkins before in a case involving violins and gangland killings.
‘Nice to see you again, Sarge,’ said Jenkins with a grin. ‘What’s this I hear about a case concerning a murder committed by Dracula in a spooky castle in Whitby?’
Andy laughed. ‘Sounds like Chinese whispers have been at work. I’ll explain as we go along.’
They headed first to Shoreditch to an address near Spitalfields Market. This was the headquarters of Alpha, a small, but successful publishing company, which employed Jack Ryerson. On the way, Andy noticed displays of lanterns and pumpkins in one or two shops and they passed two people dressed as witches with enormous pointed black hats.
‘Look at them, Sarge. Must be doing some kind of promotion for Halloween,’ said Jenkins.
‘Yeah, it’s not long until the thirty-first is it?’
‘Only a few days to go. The kids will be wanting me to take them out trick or treating.’
Andy smiled. That seemed like a fun thing to do. He had fond memories of dressing up and going round knocking on doors when he was a boy and his dad was still alive. It would be nice to take a child out and see them getting excited. Maybe he was getting broody in his old age. The idea of family life was starting to have an appeal. What would Steph think?
The offices were in a large ultra-modern tower block. The detectives went through revolving doors into an atrium and showed their identity at reception. Andy asked to see the manager as he was keen to speak to him without Ryerson knowing he was there. He and Jenkins were directed down a corridor and were met at the door of an office by a woman of about forty dressed in a smartly tailored trouser suit and heels. She held out her hand.
‘I’m Annette Brown, manager of Alpha UK. Please come in.’
Andy introduced them both, and they followed her into a large modern office and sat on easy chairs. Brown, looking a little puzzled and apprehensive, sat opposite on a similar chair.
‘How can I help you?’ she asked.
‘You have an employee called Jack Ryerson.’
‘Yes. He should be in today; I’ll just check if you want to speak to him.’ She made to get up from her chair.
‘No,’ said Andy. ‘I want to talk to you about him, please.’ Brown sat back in her chair looking more concerned. ‘Are you aware he’s been in Whitby for a few days with a group of his friends?’
‘No. I knew he’d taken a few days leave, but I didn’t know he’d gone there.’
‘One of his group of friends was murdered and another seems to have committed suicide.’
Brown put her hand to her mouth. ‘Oh my God!’
‘I’m sorry, I know it’s a shock. Can I ask you what he’s like as an employee?’
She stumbled a little for words. ‘Excellent. No problems. Good team worker.’
‘Did he have any enemies? Did he ever get angry or react violently to anything?’
‘No. Are you saying that Jack is a suspect for something?’
‘Not exactly at this stage. The case seems fairly clear but let’s say there are some loose ends we need to tie up. I want to check his movements with you. He didn’t actually witness the murder, which was last Wednesday afternoon, because he didn’t arrive until the next day. He says this was because he was tied up here at work until fairly late.’
Brown looked puzzled again. ‘Wait, that’s not right. He didn’t come in at all on Wednesday, which was the first day of his leave. I remember because there was a meeting of his team and he wasn’t there.’
Andy looked at her gravely. ‘I see. In that case we will need to speak to him now and I would be grateful if we can use this office.’
‘Of course.’ Brown got up looking alarmed and went to get Ryerson. Andy felt a little frisson. Maybe he would have something for Oldroyd.
Vicar Lane and the streets near Kirkgate Market were bustling with people as Steph walked through Leeds city centre. A number of shops had window displays with witches, cobwebs, black cats and pumpkins, reflecting the nearness of Halloween. There seems to be no escape from the dark side, thought Steph, who had arrived back from gothic Whitby.
She made her way to a street behind Vicar Lane where there were a number of jewellers’ businesses and gold dealers. She reached one shop on the detective’s list, which was old and rather darkly lit with a fusty smell that reminded her of an old library. There was a dusty and faded window display, which looked as if it hadn’t been changed for some time. Inside, the shop seemed empty until an elderly, portly and bespectacled man appeared through a door that presumably led to a small workshop. His eye was still clutching a lens, but he removed it as he came to the counter. She presented her ID and explained her business.
The man’s lip curled when he heard Withington’s name. ‘Oh, that rogue! We were glad to see the back of him.’
‘Why?’
‘He gave us a bad name with his carrying on. A lot of the public are suspicious of us as it is; they think we’re out to cheat them, especially when it comes to buying and selling second-hand stuff.’
