Killer Smile

by RC Bridgestock

  ‘Did you go anywhere near Harrowfield town centre last night or early this morning?’

  ‘No,’ he said lifting up his head. ‘Absolutely not.’

  ‘Why did you choose the name of Carl Bell as your made-up name? Is that the name of someone you know?’ said Dylan.

  ‘No, they’re just names that came into my head.’

  ‘Do you regularly jog on the canal? Why the canal?’

  ‘Yes, it’s less pressure on the knees than running on the roads and it’s quieter.’

  ‘The keys you had on your person at the time of your arrest, what are they for?’

  ‘Door key and the other’s a padlock key.’

  ‘What’s the padlock for?’

  ‘A locker.’

  Dylan was perplexed. Woodcock had managed to answers all the questions put to him without hesitation and his responses were plausible. He didn’t appear intimidated or nervous in interview. What Dylan did notice was a peculiar idiosyncrasy that he had of speaking with his mouth almost closed. Only occasionally did he see the tip of Woodcock’s upper two large front teeth that appeared to be buck teeth like a rabbit.

  Dylan terminated the first interview and Jim Woodcock agreed to provide his fingerprints and DNA swab.

  The two detectives returned to the incident room.

  ‘How did it go?’ said Vicky eagerly.

  ‘He was very plausible,’ said Raj. ‘Wasn’t he?’ she said turning to Dylan.

  Dylan nodded his head but his face looked troubled.

  ‘I just know he’s lying. He’s enjoying the attention he’s getting. I get the impression that he thinks he’s much cleverer than we are.’

  Vicky’s eyes were smiling, she tilted her head and opened her mouth as if to speak.

  ‘No comment,’ Dylan said.

  ‘Hey, you didn’t tell us he had huge buck teeth? I half expected them to be perfect his father being a dentist and all,’ said Raj.

  ‘I’m sure he didn’t?’ she said with a frown.

  ‘I think you’d have noticed?’ Dylan said laughing.

  ‘Maybe I wasn’t looking at his teeth?’ said Vicky.

  ‘I think maybe you need your eyes testing.’

  ‘Maybe they protrude more when he’s lying,’ said Raj, raising an eyebrow.

  ‘Quite an unusual form of body language but worth looking out for,’ said Vicky. ‘Maybe he has false teeth, shall we ask him?’

  ‘We need evidence of this attack first and until we arrest him for at least one of the murders I don’t want teeth mentioned to him in interview, do you hear?’

  Raj frowned at Vicky. ‘Anything new come in while we’ve been interviewing?’ she said.

  ‘What would you like to have come in sir,’ said Vicky.

  ‘CCTV of Jim Woodcock discarding his dark clothing would be heaven-sent right now,’ said Dylan, rubbing his neck. He undid the top button of his shirt.

  ‘Impossibilities I can do boss but miracles take a little longer,’ said Vicky. ‘However, there is a very nice looking young man waiting for you in your office sir, from the National Crime Agency. Feel free to give him my number,’ Vicky said with a wink before peering around her boss towards his office. She lifted her chin, cocked her eyebrow and gave him a cheeky smile.

  ‘How long has he been here?’ said Dylan looking over his shoulder.

  ‘Only about five minutes, Lisa’s just made him a brew.’

  Dylan strode out towards his door. Seated in his visitor’s chair he could quite clearly see Gary Warner. He opened his door, walked in and shut it behind him. Vicky saw Dylan reach out to shake the other man’s hand. He had a broad smile upon his face. ‘Wouldn’t kick him out of bed in a hurry,’ she said to Raj.

  ‘You’re a hussy,’ said Ned.

  ‘A hussy what DC Granger?’ said Vicky flicking her long blonde hair over her shoulder.

  ‘You’re a hussy, boss,’ he said.

  Vicky smiled broadly. ‘Now he...’ she said nodding in Gary Warner’s direction, ‘...could call me anything he wanted,’ she said, winking at Ned. ‘I’m off to make the boss a coffee.’

  ***

  ‘How the hell are you? Long time no see,’ Dylan said, squeezing behind his desk and the piles of files surrounding it and sliding into his big, comfy chair opposite Gary.

  ‘I’m good thanks. Last time we spoke you were running that drugs job...’ he put his hand to his brow. ‘Operation Whirlwind, wasn’t it? Liz Reynolds and Frankie Miller ended up dead.’

  ‘And her husband Malcolm is still on the loose.’

  ‘I often wonder if it was him who killed Larry Banks,’ said Dylan.

  ‘Who knows,’ said Gary. ‘DS Banks’s warrant card and bank cards were found on the corpse when it was pulled out of the river and later ID’d by DNA but we can only assume who killed him...’ Gary looked towards the door as its handle was turned. Vicky walked in with a coffee for Dylan. He looked at her and smiled.

  ‘Service, with a smile,’ he said. ‘Wouldn’t mind a job here myself boss.’

  ‘Oh, I’m sure he can arrange it,’ Vicky said touching Gary’s shoulder. ‘Can’t we sir?’ she said raising her eyebrows at Dylan. He shook his head.

  She stood at the door, her hand rested on it. She turned.

  ‘Thank you DS Hardacre, that’ll be all. Close the door behind you,’ Dylan said, turning his attention back to his visitor.

  Vicky frowned and left but as she did so she looked over her shoulder at Gary, who was watching her.

  ‘Yes!’ she said, to Ned biting her bottom lip and raising a fisted hand. ‘The girl’s still got it.’

  He curled up his nose. ‘Got what?’

  Vicky shook her head at her colleague. ‘I worry about you sometimes,’ she said.

  Ned’s eyes were wide. ‘That’s rich coming from you,’ he said.

  ***

  It had been a long day and Dylan’s mood was not getting any better.

  ‘It had been such a shock to lose a close colleague, especially someone I had considered a friend. But, it was more of a blow to find out his death was as a consequence of his own actions... and not only that I hadn’t realised he was bloody corrupt. A bit of a lad, yes, but not a wrong ’un. Anyway...’ he said with a sigh, ‘...it doesn’t do to dwell on the past. What can I do for you?’

  ‘I’m here to update you actually,’ Gary said, sitting up in his chair and leaning towards Dylan.

  ‘Update me?’

  ‘The information you submitted to Interpol in relation to a possible drug syndicate in Spain?’

  Dylan’s eyes rounded. It was his turn to sit up and lean forward. ‘Go on,’ he said.

  ‘Oswald Moore, better known to his friends as Ozzy, has been on the radar for a number of years. He’s always been on the periphery of some dodgy drug deal or other but there has never been anything to connect him officially. He’s a slippery one, never stops in one place, or with one gang long enough to nail him. Give him enough rope though and, he was always bound to settle down.’ Gary Warner’s eyes lit up. ‘Thanks to you we now have a permanent address for him and due to your information we know from our enquiries and subsequent surveillance that he is on the payroll of a significant drug cartel. We also believe that the head of that organisation is a Malcolm Reynolds, his next door neighbour. He will be desperate to clear his name for the Larry Banks saga and stay squeaky clean on the drugs front – maybe we will be able to bag them both this time.’

  ‘Tell me, what can I do?’

  ‘We have been reliably informed that Ozzy is on his way back to England. Did you know?’

  ‘No, the last I heard was when the father-in-law and Ozzy’s mother were asked to bring catalogues and samples of the pottery they make back to Harrowfield for a potential supplier which was when I put the intelligence in. At that time he was in Spain.’

  ‘We’ve started covert surveillance today on their address on the Isle of Wight.’

  ‘Jen’s father’s address is under surveillanc
e? Do you think they’re at risk?’

  ‘We’ve done the risk assessments and we don’t think there is a risk to them, but you’ve got to trust us that we’ve got it covered. As you can appreciate we need to gather as much information as we can before we strike. My boss wants to keep up the surveillance on Ozzy for as long as possible. He believes that Ozzy could take us to the drugs and lead us through the distribution network. We need to catch them with the goods to get a conviction. You know how it is...’

  ‘Okay,’ said Dylan. His phone bleeped. He took it from his pocket and looked at the screen. There had been six missed calls from Jen and now a text. He read it. ‘Ozzy has been arrested whilst under the influence of drink or drugs on the Isle of Wight and he is now in police custody,’ he said. ‘I guess your lot will be liaising with Hampshire and the Isle of Wight Constabulary now.’

  ‘Shit!’ said Gary. ‘That’s all we need.’

  Dylan picked up his phone to ring Jen. Gary sat quietly. ‘I’ll see what I can find out.’

  Jen was distraught.

  ‘So, he’s been arrested before he got to your dad’s?’ said Dylan.

  He nodded to Gary.

  ‘Yes. My dad will be absolutely mortified. Can you do something?’

  ‘I’m sorry love, if I could do anything... but as long as we know Ralph and Thelma are okay?’ said Dylan. ‘Keep me updated,’ he said before putting the phone down.

  Dylan put his elbow to the table, laid his head in his hand and rubbed his forehead. He looked up at Gary whose expression hadn’t change. ‘God...if only she knew.’

  How could Dylan protect them? His hands were tied. All he could do was rely on his colleagues to keep them safe. ‘If I’m not supposed to know about a job, then don’t tell me,’ Jen had always said to Dylan. ‘That way if anything is leaked you will know I never said anything... not that I would... not that you would.... but...’

  ‘We don’t have secrets,’ he said to Gary. ‘This is so hard for me. You are absolutely sure they aren’t in any danger aren’t you?’

  Gary nodded.

  ‘He’ll be bailed now won’t he?’ said Dylan.

  ‘Yes. We’ll have to get him bailed to ensure we can continue to tail him.’

  ‘And it is likely he will go home to Jen’s dad’s?’

  ‘I would have thought so as that is the most likely address he will have given the police – even if it is just to get his head down for the night.’ Gary hesitated. ‘You do know I am sharing this with you in confidence?’

  ‘Of course. Don’t worry, it’ll go no further.’

  ***

  PS Clegg’s search team had found a pedal cycle fastened by a padlock to railings on a pathway that led to the canal.

  ‘Vicky, take Andy, get down to the search team with the keys that are in Woodcock’s property will you?’ said Dylan

  He paced the office like an expectant father. Numerous scenarios running through his head. Would the smaller of the keys fit the lock? If so what did that actually prove? He picked up his ringing phone, Jen was on the other end. ‘I’m going to the Isle of Wight,’ she said. Her voice was shaking.

  ‘No, no, you can’t. Think about it... Beaky will have a bloody fit if you leave her in the lurch. You know she’s running with a skeleton staff due to the summer holidays.’

  ‘And when have you ever thought about what bloody Beaky thinks? I’ve got to do something,’ she cried. ‘Dad is beside himself. He’s taken his arrest personally... he’s so ashamed. Will they search his house do you think?’

  ‘I don’t know... if they think he might have drugs there...’ he said. ‘I’m sorry, I can’t talk right now but think about it logically. What can you do if you do go, and what will you do with Maisy?’

  ‘I’ll have to take her with me won’t I?’

  ‘No Jen, listen, please listen to me. Promise you’ll wait until I get home. We need to talk. I’ll be home as soon as I can,’ he said. ‘I promise.’

  Dylan could hear the telephones in the incident room almost jumping off the tables. There wasn’t enough personnel to answer them. Raj held one telephone in one hand and one in the other, she shouted out to Dylan.

  ‘Boss, the bike has been photographed in situ and the key fits the lock. Can they remove it?’

  ‘I really have to go,’ Dylan said to Jen. ‘We’ll speak later, yes? Don’t go anywhere,’ he said. Dylan put his phone down and strode out with a purpose into the outer office. ‘Yes Raj, and reiterate as careful as they possibly can. This has potentially been used on one or more of our murders,’ Dylan said coming to stand at Raj’s side.

  ‘Did you hear that Jarv?’ she said.

  Rajinder’s face didn’t change. ‘Why would Woodcock tell us the key was for a locker if it obviously wasn’t? Surely he would know that we would check?’ she said as she put the phone down on the CSI supervisor.

  ‘He didn’t bank on our tenacity. He knew we’d have to find the bike to disprove his evidence and link it to him, didn’t he? Then he knew we would also have to have the presence of mind to check if that key he had in his possession fitted the padlock. Like we have always said he thinks he is cleverer than we are.’

  ‘In his head I believe that he thought purporting to be a jogger would be more plausible than a man pedalling a cycle on the canal towpath in the middle of the night and that’s why he ditched the bike.’

  ‘But although this is all good evidence. It still doesn’t prove he’s our attacker does it?’ Dylan said.

  ‘Does this even prove it is his bike?’

  ‘If I’m playing devil’s advocate the Crown Prosecution will need us to look at the quality of the lock to see if more than one key would unlock it. It will have to be proved beyond any reasonable doubt that he is the only person who has a key that fits the lock for the evidence to count, in a court of law.’

  Dylan wanted and he desperately needed more evidence to put to Jim Woodcock in his next interview that was scheduled for three o’clock. In this interview he would use DS Raj and DC Andy Wormald. He would be watching via the link to his office. They were close, they were very, very close, he could feel it. Woodcock was his man. Although there were many jigsaw pieces still missing to create the full picture. He would now have to have the canal checked, no matter how time consuming. He needed to find Woodcock’s discarded clothing, sooner rather than later. Then and only then he perhaps would have the upper hand...

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Dylan successfully updated the press office regarding the latest attack and made an appeal to the public. ‘We believe our attacker may have discarded some of his clothing when he left the scene and therefore I would like to hear from anyone who comes across clothing that looks as if it has been recently abandoned,’ he said. He knew it was a long shot but if someone did come across it he didn’t want them to ignore it. It was imperative to the investigation that they secured all evidence to secure a conviction. He wanted there to be no way the Crown Prosecution Service could dilute the case against Woodcock. He wanted to put all the evidence before them in such a fashion that finding him guilty was inevitable. Then the judge could, he hoped, sentence him accordingly with recommendations that he served a minimum of twenty to thirty years. After all Jim Woodcock in Dylan’s eyes was a grave danger to society.

  In the Detective Inspector’s years of experience Woodcock was one of the strangest people he had encountered.

  The second interview with him was underway and Dylan watched from his office with interest as DS Raj got stuck into his ribs. He denied owning a pedal cycle and when he was told that a key found in his possession on arrest, fitted the padlock to which the cycle was secured to railings near the canal path, his response was quick coming.

  ‘Is that the best you can do? Don’t you know everyone has one of those padlock keys?’ he said slouching back in his chair.

  Dylan closed his eyes for an instant. He knew that was coming.

  ‘I’ve told you, that key is for a locker. I’ve a d
egree in psychology and I’m studying criminology. I know what you’re doing.’ He put his hands behind his back, stretched and yawned loudly. ‘I’m bored,’ he said turning to his solicitor.

  DS Raj continued. ‘We’ve recovered what we believe to be a weapon near to the attack outside China House restaurant,’ she said.

  ‘And what has that to do with me? Nothing, absolutely nothing,’ he said. His eyes were hooded. His shoulders dropped.

  The solicitor at Woodcock’s side watched him with interest. Her head tilted to one side. Jim Woodcock was becoming increasingly unresponsive and he yawned again. She turned to Raj. ‘I’d like to request that my client has a couple of hours rest,’ she said. ‘He was up very early this morning.’

  ‘Weren’t we all,’ Dylan said under his breath.

  Woodcock’s head that had been bowed turned to his solicitor and Dylan saw him smile at Yvonne Best weakly. The officers had no option but to grant the request as anything other than that cause of action may have shown the police to be unreasonable, and the interview or parts of it could be excluded from evidence, if deemed to be obtained by oppression.

  ***

  Dylan clenched his fists and leant back in his chair. He looked through the half-glass door into the incident room. He got up and turned his computer off. It was time to see how the search was progressing and he was keen to speak with the officers who were scanning the CCTV footage that had been seized.

  Dylan stood over Ned Granger. Ned had one hand through the handle of a freshly made mug of tea and another on his computer mouse. His eyes never left the screen.

  ‘We need something Ned...’ Dylan said in a whisper. He drummed his fingers on the desk. ‘Have you got anything we can put to him in the next interview?’

  ‘I’ve got a man running from the direction of China House. He’s wearing dark clothing that covers his head. It may be a hoodie, with some imagination,’ he said. ‘The quality is abysmal.’

  ‘Nevertheless, get me a still of that frame,’ he said pointing to the computer screen. ‘It’s better than nothing. Keep at it,’ he said with a fatherly tap on Ned’s shoulder.