Killer Smile

by RC Bridgestock

  ‘He’s okay now is he?’ said Ned out of the corner of his mouth.

  ‘All I can say is thank goodness for Paul Hopkins’ pies at times like these. It’s always good to know the boss’s weakness,’ said Vicky.

  The team meeting was brief. ‘I want you to go through all the house to house forms and questionnaires that were completed for Rock Villas. Do we know if there is anyone that is yet to be seen?’

  Vicky had her head down busily writing. ‘I don’t know boss, but Lisa will be able to tell us at the press of a button.’

  ‘Timothy Woodcock may be out of the enquiry but we need to eliminate his daughter Ginny, son Jim and the son-in-law, see if we can get an alibi for them for at least one of the murders. Let’s have them under the microscope. We know very little about them other than two of them are dentists and Jim is a student.’

  ‘And he has a nice laugh, good taste in clothes and he’s well-travelled,’ said Vicky.

  ‘They all appear to have sailed under our radar,’ said Dylan. ‘Why?’

  ‘I’m happy to put Jim under the microscope – I mean it makes sense doesn’t it since I’ve already had dealings with him. I wonder if he’ll be arranging Timothy Woodcock’s funeral?’

  ‘Well, he’s definitely about because I saw him.’

  ‘You did?’

  ‘Yes, the night I heard Timothy Woodcock had died. He passed me in a car.’

  ‘What kind of car?

  ‘I don’t know, just a bloody car. He was going to let me out into the line of traffic when Beryl rang me. I was distracted.’

  ‘But I didn't know he had a car?’

  ‘Why would you unless you asked? I knew I knew the face...’ said Dylan.

  ‘I’ve left a message on his mobile to ask him to let us know when his father’s funeral is so we can go and show our respects,’ she said.

  ‘Arrange for someone to go along and take some discreet pictures of those attending; who knows maybe our killer might be amongst them. And, if Mr Woodcock junior doesn’t reply to your call then ring Geoff Painter. The Coroner’s Officer will be able to tell you who the funeral directors are and they’ll tell you.’

  ***

  Maisy was in the bath when Dylan arrived home. She looked very pink and clean. Jen dried her soft, blonde hair dry with a fluffy, soft towel and sprinkled talcum powder like salt and pepper over her tummy. Maisy giggled with glee.

  Later Dylan crept past Maisy’s door. He could see the dimness of the night light inside her room from the crack that the open door allowed. There was a shadow he could just make out of Jen sitting on the floor by the side of Maisy’s bed reading her a bedtime story. On seeing Dylan Jen stood up slowly and crept to the door. ‘It always amazes me how she goes from ‘giddy kipper’ to asleep in five seconds flat,’ he said.

  ‘Like father, like daughter,’ she laughed as she swept up Maisy’s discarded clothes that lay on the landing. She carried them down and put them in the washing machine. Dylan followed his wife into the kitchen.

  ‘Good day?’ she said.

  ‘Not bad.’

  ‘I’m told it’s the funeral of the dentist on Friday at Brelland Crematorium.’

  ‘How do you know that?’ said Dylan.

  ‘Ah, wouldn’t you like to know Mr Detective?’ she said tapping her finger on the side of her nose.

  ‘Come on?’

  ‘Vicky rang just before you got home. She managed to speak to the daughter, Ginny?’

  Dylan picked an envelope up off the dining room table. It was addressed to Jen’s dad Ralph.

  ‘What’s this?’ he said.

  ‘Pictures of their new place in Spain,’ said Jen excitedly. ‘I don’t know why they’ve come here. Dad probably thought they might arrive before he and Thelma left but they didn’t.’

  ‘You’ve seen them?’

  ‘Just a quick peek. It looks absolutely beautiful. Please say we can go, can we?’

  Dylan sat on the sofa and pulled the glossy pictures from their wallet. Jen put his hot drink down on the coffee table, sat on the settee beside him, put her arm through his and lay her head on his shoulder.

  ‘They have a pool?’ said Dylan. ‘It’s probably just a shared one.’

  ‘No, it’s their own,’ said Jen. ‘What a waste; Dad doesn’t even swim so I can’t see him getting much use out of it can you? You’d love a pool and just imagine Maisy learning to swim in that...’

  Jen pointed to the electric gates and the high fences. ‘And, their neighbours have fearsome guard dogs Dad tells me, so no one is going to hang around are they?’ she laughed.

  ‘And these neighbours have a boat?’ said Dylan.

  ‘Yes, dad says so.... Malcolm and Juliana, she’s Spanish apparently.’

  ‘Is he?’ said Dylan. His eyes found the miniature pot on the fireplace.

  ‘No, he’s English.’

  For a moment Dylan felt he was travelling in a parallel universe. He was surprised Jen wasn’t suspicious. How could he burst her bubble? He had to find out more.

  He stood, walked the few steps to the fireplace, plucked the Spanish pot in his hand and took it into the kitchen. A rolling pin was swiftly retrieved from the drawer and he hit it hard. It broke in half showing a broad space between the outer and an inner lining.

  ‘What the hell did you do that for?’ said Jen.

  ***

  The briefing was hurried. Dylan had a lot on his mind.

  ‘There were only eight people at Mr Woodcock senior’s funeral,’ said Vicky. ‘Only Jim and the son-in-law turned up to represent the family. There were no tears shed. Jim was polite to the others who attended – one a local dentist. I believe Timothy Woodcock mentored him. The talk was of the conferences in China they had attended together. Sounded a right laugh. He was hot...’ she said with a wink at Raj.

  ‘Who was hot,’ said Dylan.

  ‘Well now you mention it the brother-in-law and the local dentist. I’m thinking I might have to sign up to his surgery.

  ‘Where is it?’

  ‘I’m not that fast,’ Vicky said.

  ‘What’d he look like?’

  ‘Who?’

  ‘This local dentist?’

  ‘He was tall. His hair was blonde and it stood up like a bristle of a brush. He had a cute turned up nose with a little mole on his left cheek.’

  Dylan appeared distant.

  ‘Earth to Dylan,’ she said.

  Dylan’s head went back with a jerk. ‘Sorry,’ he said. ‘So his ex wasn’t there or his daughter?’

  ‘Nope, but at least the lack of emotion meant I could talk to Jim and ask him to come in and see me. He wore a suit, I’ve never seen him in a suit before. He had a nice, neat little silky T-shirt underneath, no shirt or tie but he looked very swish and the material is guaranteed not to crease or crumple, so he said.’ She looked down at the front of her suit jacket. ‘I wish I could say the same for the cheap tack I can afford,’ she said to Raj.’

  ‘It might help if you didn’t leave your stuff thrown around,’ Rajinder said plucking Vicky’s cardigan from where it had been thrown in the top drawer of the filing cabinet.’

  ‘Point taken. But to be able to afford to buy suits that don’t crease sounds like heaven to me. I asked where he got it from and he showed me the label. Dead proud of it he was. I don’t know why. It was from Tam’s Tailors. It doesn’t sound that posh to me.’

  ‘Tam’s Tailors? That’s where the Blue Shirt designer bag come from that the ACC had with her. ‘Tam’s Tailors is in Hong Kong. It’s where the rich and famous go.’ said Raj.

  ‘Really?’ said Vicky. ‘You clever old thing.’

  ‘Not really, I looked up where a designer bag like the one Wendy Smythe had come from.’

  ‘So, Windy-Wendy’s got taste? I’m impressed.’

  Dylan gave her a warning look. ‘And more money than bloody sense by the sound of it.’

  ‘Yeah, a bag and a suit, sir?’ said Vicky. ‘Probably nothing to her on her w
age. It’d be like me going to Harrods and buying a face flannel.’

  ‘Did you see the guy we had at the funeral taking photographs?’ said Dylan.

  ‘Yes,’ she said. ‘He said to tell you they will be in the internal mail tomorrow.’

  Lisa handed Dylan a large envelope that had been delivered by external mail which was marked ‘STRICTLY PRIVATE’ FOR THE PERSONAL ATTENTION OF D.I. DYLAN – OPERATION TANGENT’.

  ‘Wonder if the contents are as interesting as those beautiful stamps on that envelope?’ Vicky said.

  Dylan finished typing the internal Minute Sheet to Interpol and took his dagger letter opener from his drawer; slipping the tip beneath the signed seal he heard the rasp as it opened.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  The PIs at JJ Associates International, as promised had come up with the goods and in front of Dylan were details of a murder enquiry that had occurred on Tung Lo Wan Road, Hong Kong two years previously. ‘The area boasts an upmarket wine bar called the Blue Lemon, where Fan Huang had been drinking until two a.m., before the attack,’ Dylan read, thankful Yin had already translated the documents for him. What he read captivated him. The young Chinese woman was known for her radiant smile, as could also be seen from her picture. She had been strangled and four teeth removed after death. The case remained undetected and the media had reported the murder, at the time, as a possible ritual killing. There was no description of a possible suspect.

  Dylan passed Vicky the file. ‘Have this information put on our computer system will you.’

  ‘What is it?’

  ‘A murder in Hong Kong.’

  ‘Oooo... Will I have to go?’ she said. Her face lit up. ‘Where did Windy-Wendy stop? Oh the illustrious the Metropark Hotel...’

  ‘I didn’t know you spoke Chinese?’

  ‘Well... I didn’t say... but I could meet up with your friends and I’ve never been disappointed with a takeaway I’ve bought off a Chinese menu.’ Vicky laughed.

  ‘You’re a trier, I’ll give you that. Jim Woodcock’s suit was from Tam’s Tailors in Hong Kong. How long ago was he there and didn’t Timothy Woodcock think his son was still there?’

  ‘He did but then again he was fairly out of it on his meds. He didn’t say anything that we could rely on in court,’ she said with fingers in the air marking quote symbols.

  ‘When Jim Woodcock comes in I’d like you to ask him straight out if he’s been to Hong Kong.’

  ‘He must have been mustn’t he if he had a suit made at Tam’s Tailors.’

  ‘Ask him and ensure you get a DNA swab and take his fingerprints whilst he’s here.’

  ‘Okay,’ she said shrugging her shoulders. ‘But I think you’re barking up the wrong tree. Mrs Woodcock tells me what a caring boy he is and intelligent with it. Sounds pretty much like the man I’ve had dealings with. It’s a pity he doesn’t seem to get on with his sister.’

  ***

  The next morning Dylan was standing unpacking his briefcase when Andy walked in. The clock in his office showed him seven thirty. ‘You asked to be informed of anything that came in, in relation to dentists sir?’

  Dylan looked at his colleague and moistened dry lips. ‘What’ve you got?’

  ‘The body of a Harrowfield dentist has been found at his surgery in Trinity Place, this morning. The Coroner’s Officer and uniform are in attendance,’ he said.

  ‘Murder?’ Dylan said gingerly.

  ‘Suicide is what they are intimating sir. Slashed wrists... throat. He was discovered by the cleaner.’

  ‘Have uniform protected the scene?’

  ‘Yes sir, that’s my understanding, once he was certified dead by paramedics.’

  ‘I need to go. Who is the on call scenes of crime supervisor this morning?’

  ‘Jarv.’

  ‘Would you ask her for a rendezvous at the surgery? John Benjamin is early turn, isn’t he? Can you mobilise him. Do we have a name for the deceased?’

  ‘A Martin Crossfield, thirty-five years old.’

  ‘Thanks, let control know I’ve been informed and reinforce the need for sterility of the scene until I get there. Tell them I should be with them in the next thirty minutes.’

  He heard Vicky’s dulcet tones in the incident room. She tapped on his open door and walked in.

  ‘This one’s a suicide right?’ she said.

  Dylan hadn’t taken off his coat. He sat upright on the edge of the seat of his old leather chair, typing on his keyboard. His eyes didn’t leave the computer screen. ‘Sounds like it but...’

  ‘We never assume,’ she said. ‘You don’t think...?’

  ‘He’s the killer?’ said Dylan.

  Vicky looked at him intently. He lifted his head and turned to her.

  ‘It had crossed my mind, but somehow I don’t think our killer would take his own life. Not yet anyway, he’s still toying with us... enjoying what he’s doing. The game isn’t over for him yet.’

  ‘Want me to come with you?’

  ‘I’ve already asked Andy to mobilise John. He’s early turn,’ Dylan said.

  ‘He said he was going straight to Forensic to beat the traffic didn't he?’ she said.

  ‘Damn, I forgot. You’d better get your coat.’

  ***

  The large, terraced, period villa on Trinity Place, to the west of the town, overlooked a deep grassy verge. Once big family houses, the majority were now used as a mixture of residential and commercial properties; a solicitors, holistic centre and the well-established dental practice among them. Dylan recalled the illuminated sign above the dentist’s front door from a bygone age. During the long hours of darkness it had been a welcome sight on beat seven. If only he had a pound for the number of times he had checked that big, shiny, ornamentally furnished black door to ensure it was secure; all part of the job as a patrol officer on nights, in those days. He’d sheltered under the villa’s big stone porch in the rain on many occasions in his helmet and Gannex police allocated raincoat, watching and waiting for the Inspector’s white Hillman Avenger to drive towards him along Trinity Road, to check his pocket book, through the window’s letter box sized gap that he wound down to allow the procedure to take place. There were no flies on the military-style way of the Inspectors in those days – they weren’t about to get their uniform wet.

  Dylan and Vicky stood poised on the edge of a pavement, waiting for the traffic to give them an opportunity to cross the busy road. He saw the chance, grabbed Vicky’s elbow, and took it. A few moments later they were passing under the crime scene tape and walking through the gates of the dental practice. The outer scene seemed crowded with authorised personnel however there was little noise; concentration on doing the job in hand etched on everyone face.

  CSI Supervisor Sarah Jarvis slammed the rear door of the scenes of crime van and walked their way. Outside number 7, Inspector Stonestreet updated them collectively as to the discovery of the body. The uniformed officers who had responded to the 999 call were in attendance.

  Dylan, Vicky and Jarv were directed towards the reception area. When the corpse was revealed Dylan was conscious of a gasp of anguish that appeared to come from the officer by his side. Vicky looked up at him with disbelieving eyes. Her lips moved; the colour drained from her lips. She put her hand up to her mouth. Dylan stood hesitant. ‘What?’ he said.

  ‘It’s the man... The one that I told you about... the dentist at Mr Woodcock’s funeral,’ she said.

  ‘You okay?’ said Dylan as she grabbed hold of his arm.

  Vicky nodded and swallowed hard. ‘I will be,’ she said.

  ‘Breathe in,’ said Dylan. ‘One, two, three, hold... and out, one, two, three...’

  Vicky closed her eyes and appeared to sway but on opening them breathed out through pursed lips before giving him a weak smile.

  There was a vast amount of blood.

  ‘Where’s the lady who found him?’ said Dylan.

  ‘We took her home,’ said Inspector Stonestreet. ‘I’ve m
ade arrangements to get a statement from her. My officers have also obtained details of the paramedic who pronounced him dead and likewise a statement will be obtained from him later today.’

  ‘Good. So, who has been inside?’

  ‘The cleaner sir, the paramedic, Tracy and myself,’ said PC Lucy Jordan who looked sheepishly at the Coroner’s Officer.

  ‘Geoff? Tell me you haven’t?’ Dylan said with an accusing glare.

  ‘A look, that’s all it was... just a look. Hands in the pockets. I didn’t touch anything,’ he said.

  ‘Jarv, Vicky get suited up. Geoff, a quiet word please.’ Dylan said moving a few yards away from the others. Geoff Painter followed him. He stood scratching his grey beard with hesitant fingers, Dylan stepped into his own protective clothing. Jarv and Vicky looked at Dylan and Painter.

  Jarv cringed. ‘I wouldn’t want to be in his shoes,’ she said brushing aside a lock of blonde hair that fell over her forehead. Vicky looked at her with deep blue eyes.

  ‘My God is he in for a bollocking,’ she said under her breath to her colleague.

  Dylan spoke softly, his back to the team. ‘Why the fuck do you think we put these on?’ he said, as his shoe caught in the protective suit and he tugged furiously at the leg. ‘It’s a potential crime scene you bloody idiot.’

  ‘But..’

  ‘Best you don’t say anything. Those cavalier days are long gone and you bloody well know it.’

  ‘Sorry sir,’ he said, bowing his head.

  Dylan walked back towards Vicky.

  ‘Those bollockings, the calm ones, they’re definitely the worse,’ said Vicky screwing up her nose.

  ‘I’ll get some foot plates out of the van, boss,’ Jarv called over her shoulder as she headed for the van.

  ‘Do you need a hand?’ called Dylan.

  ‘That would be good,’ she called.

  ‘No problem, Vicky’s stronger than she looks,’ he said winking at Vicky as they walked towards the vehicle together.