‘Hugo-Watkins was in at that time of night?’
‘He’d been called in to do an extended detention for a prisoner in the cells, hence why he hadn't parked out back in his own parking space in the yard.’
‘It turned out to be dummy training dynamite. Don’t look so worried,’ he said pulling her nice warm body towards him. ‘Now go to sleep.’
Dylan’s eyes closed and within seconds or so it seemed he was fast asleep.
Jen lay, eyes open in the darkened room staring up at the ceiling and thinking how this night could have turned out so differently. She stared at the clock three thirty a.m., the phone rang.
‘Are you awake sir, it’s the Control Room.’
‘I am now,’ said Dylan. ‘What’ve you got for me?’
‘Shades nightclub in the town centre?’
‘Yes, I know of it.’
‘A young man has been attacked outside and at this moment he’s on his way to theatre for emergency surgery. He’s a serious injury to his neck, but that’s not all. The man who’s been arrested on suspicion of the attack has a tooth in his pocket and it’s believed to be a human tooth.’
Chapter Eighteen
Jen sat on the edge of the bed and watched Dylan step into his clothes that she had selected for him from the wardrobe whilst he’d shaved. A cup of coffee half drunk and a plate with a slice of cold toast, half eaten, sat on the corner of the dressing table.
‘There’s a sandwich, fruit, and a bottle of water on top of your briefcase. I’ve put it by the front door so whatever you do, don’t fall over it,’ she said. She yawned loudly and throwing her legs onto the bed she snuck onto Dylan’s side of the bed, pulled the duvet up to her neck and snuggled into Dylan’s pillow. She watched her husband move around the room quietly. He looked like he was concentrating hard as he buttoned up the cuffs on his shirt. He moved to stand in front of the mirror and secured his tie.
‘Thanks love,’ he said distractedly. His eyes scanned the dressing table top.
‘Handkerchief?’ said Jen.
Dylan nodded.
‘It’s in your suit pocket with your mints.’
Dylan picked up his jacket, felt in the pocket and retrieving the sought after items he smiled at her, leant over the bed and put his hand on her forehead. ‘Have I told you how much I love you lately?’ he said.
Jen shook her head.
‘Well I do,’ he said.
‘It’s a good job. When I’m fat, forgetful, depressed and have bags under my eyes it’ll be all your fault Jack Dylan,’ she said. She closed her eyes tight and he kissed her on her puckered lips.
‘You forgot the lack of sex drive.’ Dylan gave a throaty laugh. ‘I read that article too in your magazine. I’ll see you when I see you,’ he said as he walked towards the door. ‘With some luck this lad they have in custody will be able to help us with our enquiries and it’ll all be over very soon.’ Dylan’s voice had a tone of excitement to it.
‘Thank goodness,’ she said, turning over with a groan. Dylan walked down the stairs and stepped over Max. He ruffled the dog’s ears and was rewarded with a swish of a bushy tail. His moan was long and low as he shuffled along the carpet to the door. ‘Know how you feel mate,’ he said. ‘Go back to sleep it’s not time to get up yet.’
***
As Dylan drove through the Sibden Valley and over the hill the landscape before him seemed to open up and end at the sunrise. It reminded him of the colour of bad blood – how apt that he was going to deal with a scene of horror.
Detective Sergeant Hardacre met him at the station, she was eating a banana and holding a glass of water in her hand.
‘That bad?’ said Dylan.
‘Worse, I’ve had about two hours’ sleep. Coffee’s on,’ she said with half-smile as she walked towards the kitchen. Dylan followed her. ‘I thought you’d want to be contacted about this one. In brief, on the surface, there’s nothing unusual about an attack outside a nightclub. The injured lad, in question, has been rushed to theatre with a gaping wound to his neck. Caused, we believe by a craft knife that was recovered from the pavement nearby. Oh, and by the way the bouncers are called crowd control safety officers now, in case you didn’t already know.’
‘What?’ Dylan said.
‘Bouncers, the terminology doesn’t exist anymore they want to be called crowd safety officers,’ she said, getting two mugs out of the cupboard. She grabbed the jar of coffee and stood with a spoon and the open jar in her hands at the breakfast bar.
‘Okay, whatever. Bouncers are bouncers to me no matter how they want to dress it up.’
‘Warren Derby, the lad who is in theatre is in the club with his girlfriend Jade Thomas right, when our local knob head Tony Morris takes a shine to Jade. He gets so annoying that witnesses tell us Warren and Tony have words inside the club which would have come to blows if it hadn’t been for crowd control safety officers throwing Morris out. End of problem you’d think, but no fifteen, twenty minutes later,’ she said with a shake of her head, ‘Warren and Jade leave the club and are walking towards the Kashmir Curry House and they pass Morris in a shop doorway. He follows them. The couple purposefully stop to let him pass by looking in a shop window, but he comes up behind Warren and with one swift movement,’ she said drawing her index finger across her neck, ‘he reaches over his shoulder and cuts Warren’s throat. Immediately blood starts pumping from the wound. Jade screams out for help as Warren drops to his knees with his hands to his neck and for good measure Morris put the boot in. Warren is kicked in the face, then his body... When we, uniform get there the crowd control safety officers who are standing outside the night club have come to the couple’s aid and detained Tony Morris. Tony Morris is still thrashing around on the floor and has to be restrained.’
‘That name, Tony Morris, it rings a bell. Am I right in thinking it’s not that long ago, he bit someone else’s ear off in a fight?’ Dylan leant against the kitchen’s breakfast bar, his arms crossed in front of him.
‘Yeah he got a suspended sentence for the job. His brief argued that he was defending himself.’ Vicky poured the coffee, added the milk, spooned in two sugars and stirred the drink, picking up the cups she offered one to Dylan who took it from her.
‘Thanks. Well, maybe this time the courts will put him inside for some considerable time,’ he said turning his back on her as he left the room. She followed him along the corridor to the incident room.
Dylan caught a glimpse of a girl walking past with a uniformed police officer, through the window to the adjacent corridor. It was obvious she had been crying. She reached out to the officer and he stopped. They turned to face each other. She held a tissue to her mouth, her hand was trembling, her eyes staring at his face.
‘That’s Jade,’ said Vicky.
Dylan took another look, over his shoulder as he continued.
Jade was a tall slim girl who wore a short, tight, silky skirt with a loose lacy top over a camisole. She had a mass of auburn hair which she wore down. She was pale, her eye make-up had run and left heavy stains on her cheeks.
‘The last I heard from the cells was that Morris was being seen by the police surgeon; he’s got two badly swollen eyes.’
‘What’s this about teeth found in his pocket?’ Dylan said as they stopped at his office door. Vicky took a step to one side, leant towards her desk and scooped up a transparent exhibits bag. She held it up to the light. Inside Dylan could see a tooth lodged in the bottom right hand corner. ‘One tooth,’ she said.
Dylan opened his door, flicked on the light which took a few seconds to judder to life and stepped back to allow Vicky to walk in ahead of him. He closed the door behind them and walked to his old leather chair, took his jacket off and draped it around the back. He turned the chair round to sit down. The exhibits bag with the tooth within lay between them on Dylan’s desk. The two detectives leant forward, heads almost touching to study the contents of the bag.
‘Has this guy Warren got any teeth missin
g do you know?’ Dylan said. His eyes looked directly into Vicky’s. ‘Or could it be Morris’s?’
‘There’s no suggestion from witnesses to say they saw him remove any teeth, neither do we know at this moment if Warren’s got any missing... He was in a really bad way. Apparently, he lost a vast amount of blood at the scene. We think possibly the carotid artery was severed in the attack.’ All was still and quiet. The two stared at each other.
Vicky’s mobile phone rang, it made her jump and she sat up straight to answer it. ‘Okay, thank you for that,’ she said, her eyes never left Dylan’s. She covered the mouthpiece momentarily. ‘His parents have arrived at the hospital.’ She continued to listen to the person on the line. Dylan could hear a male voice but it was so low that he couldn’t identify its owner. ‘And are you okay whilst I get some officers over to assist? The boss is here so I’ll let him know,’ she said. She put the phone in front of her on the desk, leant forward and grasped her hands tightly between her knees. ‘Andy, he’s at Harrowfield General Hospital, the medics lost their fight to save him. Warren Derby died a few minutes ago in theatre.’
Dylan rested both elbows on the desk and put his head in his hands. ‘Bloody hell,’ he said. He closed his eyes. Opened them again and looked up at Vicky. ‘You always think that once they have them in theatre they’re going to pull through don’t you?’
Vicky put her hand to her mouth and nodded her head.
‘Did the family arrive at the hospital before he died?’
‘Apparently so, I’ll get some officers over to help Andy...’ said Vicky, standing. She shivered.
‘You okay?’ said Dylan.
‘Yeah, just a goose running over my grave...’ she said. Vicky pulled up the sleeve of her cardigan and showed him the goosebumps on her arm.
Dylan smiled. ‘My mum used to say that all the time,’ he said with a hint of sadness in his voice. ‘I’ll speak to the cells to let them know that at some stage you’ll be nipping down to upgrade Morris’s arrest to murder and I’ll tell them to keep him under constant observation. Okay!’ he said, slamming the palms of his hands on his desk. Dylan took a deep breath, ‘Let’s get some staff called in and make sure that Jade’s got her parents here when the news is broken to her, she will, like his family, need our support.’
Vicky left the room.
Dylan picked up the phone and dialled the number of the custody suite. The phone rang and rang and when it was picked up the custody officer appeared flustered. ‘Custody suite,’ he snapped.
‘Dylan, everything okay?’
‘What a nasty bastard Tony Morris is,’ he said. There was shouting and hollering in the background. ‘Can you hear the commotion? Talk about kicking off.’
‘I’m sure you’ll cope. He’s going down for a long stretch this time. It’s just a shame they won’t lock him up and throw away the key.’
‘He’s never been this bad before.’
‘You know him then?’
‘Knowing him, if he hasn’t had a fight on a weekend he’s not had a good night out,’ said the Custody Officer.
‘DS Hardacre will be down to upgrade his arrest from wounding to murder. They lost the fight, in theatre, to save the lad he attacked. I might just nip down with her to see the prat for myself.’
***
Tony Morris was a big muscular young man with a tattooed, shaven head. He was a sorry looking sight with two swollen, black eyes. He towered above the two officers who frogmarched him towards the charge desk where the Custody Sergeant, Dylan and Vicky were waiting for him. He was sweating profusely and gibbering under his breath. He might have had a menacing swagger and he snarled but the hideous paper suit and shoes that made him shuffle instead of walk took away some of that menace.
He stood before the Sergeant who was behind the charge desk. Vicky stood at his side facing the prisoner.
‘You were initially arrested for wounding a man; the man you attacked has now died. So, we need to inform you that you are now under arrest for his murder,’ she said.
The custody sergeant updated the information on Morris’s detention sheet.
Tony Morris looked directly towards Vicky although since his eyes were virtually closed she did wonder how much he could see. ‘Fucking shit happens,’ he said with a cock of his head.
‘Take him back to his cell,’ said the Sergeant.
***
Dylan and Vicky walked into the CID office. ‘We will open this incident room on the floor below Operation Saturn. I think this needs dealing with as a separate crime, unless evidence proves to the contrary,’ said Dylan matter-of-factly.
‘You don’t think it’s linked to our serial killer? What about the tooth they found in his possession?’ said Vicky.
‘Like I said before I want to know about any incidents that might prove connected to the serial killings but gut instinct tells me he isn’t clever enough to be who we’re looking for,’ he said, screwing up his face. ‘Tony Morris is a bloody aggressive idiot. He’s got a big mouth and he’s handy with his fists; oh, and we now know he carries a knife but...’
Vicky raised her eyebrows questioningly.
‘I’m not ignoring the fact that he had a tooth in his pocket on his arrest but until we know the origin of the tooth I want the incident treated independently.’
‘You’re the boss,’ said Vicky, turning down the corners of her mouth.
‘That’s right Vicky I am,’ he said with a nod of his head.
Chapter Nineteen
Apart from the tooth in Tony Morris’s possession there was little found to suggest or connect him to the serial killer. Dylan was confident he could keep a watching brief on the Warren Derby investigation and let another of Harrowfield’s Detective Seargeants, John Benjamin deal with it. That file would be straight forward enough. Back in the fold from training school the big black, gentleman detective would command this investigation as he had done with others, by his stature. This was routine, if there was such a thing as a routine murder investigation. Dylan would assist in the early stages with the family and media, after which, until they got the results on the tooth that he carried in his pocket he would just be on hand should he be required. John was a trusted colleague whom he knew would keep him updated.
This approach would allow Dylan, Vicky and Raj to remain focused on the hunt for the serial killer. He knew that the latest murder in Harrowfield would give more fuel to the fire for the media as to the town becoming increasingly violent. He could see it now. ‘It’s unsafe to leave our homes say Harrowfield Residents.’ A press release was drafted and agreed with DS Benjamin who passed it to the press office for them to distribute. It was now time to go to the hospital to speak with Warren Derby’s parents. There was nothing Dylan or John Benjamin could do to ease their pain. Another innocent life lost because of some idiot whose defence team at the later trial will make out had an unhappy childhood or that he had taken a cocktail of drink and drugs. They would end up trying to make the jury believe that he was also a victim. Who was Dylan to judge? He may not have had an easy life, like millions of others, but that didn’t detract from the fact that he had committed a crime and in Dylan’s mind he should serve the appropriate time in prison. His defence would have a hard time proving that this was ‘out of character’ looking at his history of offending, and all for the same crime: assault.
Dylan sat at his desk with a drink and his sandwiches; another working lunch. All was a hive of industry in the office outside. It was warm and he felt sleepy. With any luck the sustenance would keep him awake until he could go home. Pen in one hand and sandwich in the other he drafted the priority enquiries, as he saw them.
The initial interview with Morris hadn’t given them anything other than, ‘No replies,’ and a ‘V’ sign every now and then, DS Benjamin reported. So, they were now dependent on a DNA profile of the tooth. A smile crossed Dylan’s face. He could no more imagine Tony Morris extracting teeth carefully and skilfully than he could Vicky enjoying tea out of a
china cup. Morris would rather knock teeth out and Vicky would rather have a swift half at the local. ‘Our deceased didn’t have any teeth missing. So, unless the owner is recorded, we may never know the identity,’ said John.
Vicky walked in to Dylan’s office. ‘My God you look bright and breezy considering,’ he said.
‘Don’t be fooled,’ she said holding a can of Red Bull up at shoulder height. ‘I’ve been in touch with Jim Woodcock, Timothy Woodcock’s son. He’s coming in to see me at five. I asked him about the burglary at his dad’s home and he said it appeared to be primarily confined to his father’s office.’
‘He knew about it?’
‘He reported it. He wanted to tell me about the things that are missing but I told him to bring the list with him. What was interesting though is that he did say his grandfather’s fishing gear and his dental tools, left to his father by his father-in-law, are amongst the stuff that went.’
‘Really? Now that does sound interesting, but let’s not forget our serial killer is someone with experience and somehow I don’t see an opportunist burglar having a go with the dental tools for the fun of it and finding in the process he has a gift in the art of teeth extraction, do you? But the fishing gear...?’ Dylan’s eyes grew wide.
Vicky nodded emphatically. ‘And the dental equipment together is interesting.’
‘Very interesting,’ said Dylan.
‘Ha ha! Never assume, you tell us,’ Vicky said with a wink of an eye.
‘I’m not and I’m always right because I’m the boss.’
‘Yeah, whatever,’ she said, taking her leave as Dylan’s phone rang.
Jen was excited. ‘Dad’s just rang me, Thelma has bought a house in Spain for them,’ she said.
‘Spain?’ said Dylan. His voice had risen an octave.
‘Yes, Spain! And the best bit is she says we can use it whenever we want to.’
Killer Smile Page 19
