by L M Krier
After the morning briefing, Ted went to find PC Susan Heap, who was going to accompany him when he went to visit the victims of the sex attacks.
'Thanks for this, Susan, I appreciate your help. It's nice to have someone with me. I'm not much good at this sort of thing. I never know what to say.'
'Oh, that's not true at all, sir,' she told him. 'You're brilliant with people, everyone says the same.'
Ted smiled. 'Well, that's flattering of you to say so. I just wish I could believe it was true. I don't have big feet but I always feel I open my mouth and put them both right in it.'
The victims had already been questioned at length by specially trained officers. To a degree, Ted knew that PC Heap was right. People would often talk to him, open up and speak of difficult things. His short stature and quiet manner seemed to encourage them, making him seem less threatening than other officers. At the same time, he was ruthlessly efficient when interviewing suspects. Some had made the mistake of underestimating him because he was small and seemed inoffensive.
Ted had made appointments to see the three women who had been attacked, starting with the first victim. It was a long shot that they would get anything out of interviewing them again, but sometimes, with the passage of time, more details emerged from victims' memories and it was a chance worth taking.
Their first call was at the home of Kathy Finn. She had told Ted that she was still off work, recovering. Susan Heap was in uniform, Ted had his warrant card in his hand when they arrived at the front door of a neat mid-terrace house, with a minuscule front garden.
In reply to their knock, there was the sound of bolts being drawn back and the door being unlocked from the inside. It was opened only as far as the short security chain would allow. All they could see was an eye and some wild-looking hair as a voice asked sharply, 'Yes?'
'Detective Inspector Darling and PC Heap, Ms Finn,' Ted said, holding up his warrant card to the door crack. 'I telephoned you and made an appointment.'
A pale hand appeared, took his card to examine it, then handed it back through the gap. They heard the chain being detached, then the door opened. The woman was wearing baggy sweat pants and an over-sized sweater. She looked painfully thin and rather cold, despite the central heating being turned up to tropical heat.
'You better come in,' she said warily, and indicated that they should go down the narrow hallway to a small kitchen at the back. There was a large blue Persian cat in the middle of the table, whose tail twitched at the sight of strangers. Kathy Finn indicated that they should sit down and went to put the kettle on in a distracted fashion.
'Gilbert doesn't like people very much,' she told them, as the cat confirmed her statement by hissing menacingly at Susan Heap. It then turned its attention to Ted, sniffing at the sleeves of his trench-coat, which inevitably betrayed traces of his own cats.
'Gilbert? That's an unusual name,' Susan Heap commented, trying to break the ice.
'There was a Sullivan as well, but he got run over,' the woman told them. 'Do you prefer tea or coffee? Or something herbal?'
The cat had now abandoned hostility and was rubbing its head along Ted's sleeve. Ted very gently lifted his hand and started to rub his fingers against the top of its head, which sent it into a frenzy of purring and pushing.
'Anything at all, Ms Finn, whatever is to hand,' Ted told her, still stroking the cat absent-mindedly.
She produced a pot of something which was unidentifiable when she poured it out into three china mugs, which she passed round, before sitting down. She studied Ted for a moment then said, 'I've never seen Gilbert allow a stranger to touch him before.'
Ted gave her his most disarming grin and said, 'I'm a sucker for cats. We have six of them,' before switching into formal mode. 'Thank you for agreeing to see us, Ms Finn. I know you have been interviewed at length, but I just wondered if there was anything else, anything at all, which you could tell us. Perhaps some small detail you've remembered which could be useful in our enquiries.'
'I've been going over and over it in my mind ever since,' she told them with a slight shudder. 'I have terrible trouble sleeping, and when I do sleep, I have nightmares, reliving it over and again. That's why I'm still off work.
'Because I was the first, when he first got into the car, I thought that's all he was after. The car. It was a nice sporty Audi. He told me to shut up and drive where he told me to and I wouldn't get hurt. He let me see that he had a knife, and he pressed it against my side so I could feel it through my clothes. It left a small cut. Not serious, just a warning.
'I believed him, that's the stupid part. I thought that if I just drove him away from any people, he'd take the car and go. I was terrified, because of the knife, but I kept telling myself to stay calm, do exactly as he said, and I would be all right.'
She picked up her mug in both hands and took a drink of the hot liquid. Ted and Susan Heap took advantage of the pause to do the same. Ted still couldn't tell what it was that he was drinking. He was glad when the insistent head-butting of the cat meant he had to put his mug back down.
'Even when he made me turn off the road up a track to the back of beyond, I kept thinking it would be all right, it would soon be over, he just wanted the car.' She made a harsh sound which could have been a laugh. 'The thing that was worrying me the most was the thought that I would have to walk back from there on my own in the dark, and that it would be scary.
'Then he told me to stop the car and get out. He got out too. I thought he was coming round to the driver's side to get in and drive away. But then he grabbed me, and he raped me.
'The police found the car, not far away. But I could never bear to see it again, after what happened. I sold it, cheap, for a quick sale. Too many memories.'
'I'm really sorry to ask you to go over it again, Ms Finn, but is there anything at all you can tell us about the man himself? Anything you may not have thought of at the time? Something, some feature, you've remembered since?'
'He was so ordinary,' she said. 'Medium height, no distinguishing features. What terrifies me most is that if I passed him in the street again, I'm not sure I would recognise him. The only thing I do remember is his eyes. They were dark brown. I always thought brown eyes were so warm, like melted chocolate. But his were cold. Cold and cruel. I'd know his eyes again, I'm sure.'
'Anything else at all? Any small detail?' Ted asked, his tone encouraging.
She shook her head. 'Nothing. His voice was English, no particular regional accent, just a hint of something I couldn't really pin down. He didn't say much. Again, I'm not sure I'd know his voice again. I'm sorry. I wish I could do more to help. When I think what happened to the last poor woman …'
'Here's my card,' Ted put it on the table in front of the cat as he stood up to go, leaving his drink largely untouched. 'If you think of anything, or if I can help you in any way, please don't hesitate to call me.'
'I said you were good with people, sir, even the cat liked you,' Susan smiled as they got back into Ted's car.
Ted shook his head. 'I wish I knew the right things to say to someone like that. Will she ever truly get over it, I wonder?'
Their next visit was near the town centre. The second victim, Helen Lawrence, was back at work. She showed them into a small room at the back of the building, clearly the staff rest room, and offered them coffee from a machine which was giving off an inviting odour.
She looked calm and composed, neatly turned out, in the building society uniform, hair and make-up immaculate. She served them with coffee then sat down facing Ted and Susan.
'I'm not sure if I can help you any further, Inspector,' she began. 'I honestly can't think of anything I haven't already said to the other officers, and I do keep going over it in my mind to see if there might be something, anything, which I forgot initially. I'm anxious to help catch him, of course, so I am trying to remember details, although I don't really want to.'
'I appreciate you agreeing to talk to us, and I'm sorry for making y
ou relive it. It's just anything at all you can think of which may help us to catch this man would be really useful to our enquiry,' Ted told her.
'I knew what was going to happen, of course. I'd heard about the first attack. He told me to shut up and drive and said as long as I kept quiet, I would be unharmed. I knew he was lying, but there was nothing I could do about it. He kept the point of the knife pressed against my side the whole time. I could feel the sharp point, even through my clothes. I knew he would use it if I didn't do as he said.
'He didn't have much of an accent, certainly not a strong regional one I could recognise. He only said as much as he needed to, to tell me where to go and what to do. When he made me get out of the car, I suspected what he was going to do to me, so I tried to fight back. He hit me once, in the face, hard enough to knock me a bit senseless, for which I was grateful. I didn't know much of what was happening to me after that.
'He cut me again with the knife, although it wasn't serious. I realise now how lucky I was. I had all the tests. He didn't leave me pregnant, I don't have HIV or an STD, and I got my car back. I paid to have it not just valeted but steam-cleaned inside and out. Now I'm just carrying on as normal, because if I don't, then he's won, hasn't he?'
'Would you know him again?' Ted asked, handing her his card with his contact details.
'Only by his eyes,' she said. 'I'd know his eyes if I ever saw them again. They were dark brown but they were the coldest eyes I have ever seen. As if they were devoid of any humanity.'
Their third call of the morning was to a neat semi-detached house on a small estate. An immaculate sporty Škoda, in a metallic shade of electric blue, sat gleaming on the driveway. Ted knew from the case notes that it was the car in which Jayne Wright had been abducted. Clearly she, too, had decided to keep her vehicle.
The woman who opened the door was smartly dressed, in her early thirties, and smiled pleasantly at them as if they were expected for a social call. She showed them into a light and airy sitting room with a large bay window. Ted and Susan both declined her offer of a drink and sat down as she invited them to do.
'I just wondered if there was anything at all you could tell me, Mrs Wright, about the person who attacked you?' Ted began. 'I'm sorry to ask you to go over it all again, but really anything at all you may have remembered might be of help to us in our enquiries.'
'Oh, I'm over it now,' she said dismissively. 'I wasn't doing very well, but then I saw what happened to his latest victim and it made me realise how lucky I was. The physical scars have nearly healed, and the emotional ones will, in time. I'm trying not to let myself be defined by what happened to me. My husband's having a much harder time of it. He's finding it very difficult to come to terms with any of it.'
There was a catch in her voice and she paused to compose herself. 'I don't know if I can remember any more than I've already told the other officers. I knew what was coming, of course, as soon as he got into the car. He told me to shut up and do as he told me and I would be all right. I wasn't all right, of course, but I'm alive and I have the car back, as you can see, all cleaned and sterilised and good as new. I just don't know yet whether I will ever be able to drive it again. And I haven't been shopping since. Thank goodness for online ordering and home delivery. But I'll get over it. I have to.'
'Would you recognise the man again if you saw him?' Ted asked her.
I'm not sure,' she said frankly. 'Everything about him was rather anonymous. He had almost no accent, which is rather unusual, don't you think? Most of us have something about the way we speak which betrays our origins. But his was very neutral. Average height and build, dark clothing. His eyes were dark, too, but they were cold. It's his eyes I have nightmares about.'
'Has that helped you, sir?' Susan asked him as they drove the short distance back to the station. 'Anything new there to give you a steer?'
'I'm not sure, to be honest, Susan, but at least I feel I've tried. Thanks again for your help.'
Ted called the team together at the end of the day, wanting an update. He was feeling frustrated and impatient with the apparent lack of any real progress by all of them, himself included.
'What have we got? Anything new? Steve, what about bus routes?'
'I did eventually get hold of the dog handler for the information, sir, although it took a while. And he told me the missing child was found safe, at least. She'd been in trouble at school so had gone to hide in a shed on her dad's allotment, but the dog found her easily enough. I have tried with the bus information, but our man could have gone almost anywhere. There's nothing conclusive in that direction.
'Look again,' Ted said, more shortly than usual. 'Check, double-check. There has to be something. Jezza, anything from the staff at the latest scene?'
'Nothing really, boss,' she told him. 'Now they're all so jumpy they're seeing suspects where they probably don't exist.'
'You be careful, too, don't go there after dark,' Ted warned her.
'Surely he won't come back to the same place? Not after killing there?'
'We don't know. We know practically nothing about this man, and that's what worries me. He's one step ahead of us all the time and we really need to up our game. All of us.'
Ted was bone weary when he got home, after more than twelve hours at work. Trev was in the kitchen, one of his Japanese motorcycle manuals open on the table. It was one of the languages he spoke and he liked to keep up the practice.
He stood up to give Ted a hug when he came in and said, 'Supper's nearly ready. It's just a quick pasta dish, I've not long got back. Hard day?'
Ted sank into a chair at the table, his face drawn. 'No progress,' he sighed. 'And I've been talking to the victims, which is never easy. How did it go at the school?'
'Oh, fine. I gave Shewee a long pep talk, and asked her house parent to contact me next time she's not toeing the line. Are you hungry?' Trev asked, standing up and starting to set the table.
'Not very, I think I'm too tired to be,' Ted confessed. 'I'll just have a bit, then I think I'd like an early night.'
'You need to eat something, you're losing weight,' Trev said, his voice concerned. 'Then I'll come up with you.'
'I really am tired,' Ted told him apologetically. 'Tired as in boringly in need of sleep tired. Sorry.'
'That's all right. We'll eat, then you can take a nice warm bath and I'll scrub your back, if you like. Then we can just go to sleep together, like a proper old married couple.'
Ted managed some food but opted for a shower instead of a bath as he was in danger of falling asleep in the water. As Trev slid up close to him under the duvet Ted said, 'Tell me all about your journey. And what the school was like. And what you think of your kid sister, now you've met her in the flesh.'
Trev had barely got past describing the first part of his journey to Somerset when he heard the soft sound of Ted's snoring. He kissed him gently on the forehead, closed his own eyes and tried to sleep.
Chapter Fourteen
Ted received two phone calls in rapid succession just after the morning briefing the following day. The first, totally unexpected, was from Trev and Siobhan's mother, Lady Armstrong, coldly polite, thanking him for taking care of her daughter. It was how he imagined she would sound when calling a hostess to thank her after a drinks party.
The second, not quite so unexpected but far more worrying, was from Pocket Billiards, the local reporter.
'Morning, Ted. I'm sitting on quite a story here and I hope you're going to be able to make it an even better one for me, with some nice juicy quotes,' he began.
'I doubt that very much, Alastair,' Ted said levelly. 'You should know by now that juicy quotes are not really my thing. But I'll certainly do my very best to help you, you have my word on that.'
He had sub-consciously picked up his pen and started doodling on a pad on the desk. Then he noticed how dark and aggressive his doodles were and realised the anger management course effects were already wearing off.
'I've had a phone
call.' Then came a protracted pause for dramatic effect. 'From Jenny Holden.'
Ted managed not to swear out loud, but the point of his pen went through the top couple of sheets on the pad with a savage stabbing motion.
'I see,' he said cautiously.
'I can tell the name isn't unknown to you,' the journalist continued. 'So what I'm going to need from you is a full response to the allegations she brought to me which, as you can imagine, include the possibility of a massive police cover-up into a serious sexual assault.'
Ted stood up and sent his waste-paper basket flying across the office with a well-placed kick. He took a deep breath to compose himself then said, 'Look, Alastair, this isn't something we can talk about over the phone. We need to meet face to face. I'm quite happy to answer your questions, as far as I'm able, and to give you a statement, but I will, of course, have to get clearance from higher up before I do.
'Are you free today? We could meet at The Grapes, perhaps? Over a sandwich?' He noticed the familiar pause and added, 'On me, of course. Would twelve-thirty suit you?'
Knowing the reporter's unpleasant eating habits, he couldn't stand the idea of a full meal with him but thought he might just manage to keep his composure over sandwiches.
'I'll look forward to it, Ted, and I know you're not going to let me down on this,' came the oily response.
Ted's waste-paper basket was beyond resuscitation by the time he had kicked it several times round his office. It wouldn't be the first he had had to pay to replace. So much for the Blackpool course.
There was a timid knock at his office door and Mike Hallam put his head warily round the gap as he opened it.
'I come in peace, boss. Only, I heard the noise,' he said, looking at the mangled remains of the basket, 'and I see there have been casualties.'
Ted grinned sheepishly. 'Sorry, Mike. I was just arranging a meeting with my favourite journalist, and you know how much I look forward to those.' He looked ruefully at the damage and said, 'That was just a bit of wishful thinking. I'll have to go and talk to the Super now, just to get my story straight before I meet him.'
