An Urgent Murder

by Alex Winchester

  “You could be right.”

  “Course I am. The Police have got the right person. Makes a change.”

  Both weren’t sure though: but for their own reasons could not and would not tell the Police. They watched the tape until Chaplin arrived and then the Police and ambulance.

  “Well, it looks like she did it. Don’t know why and frankly I don’t care.”

  “Would you have done him?”

  “Likely.”

  63

  Friday 10th June 2011

  to

  Saturday 11th June 2011

  Reluctantly, after some gentle bullying he agreed to do it that night. He kissed his wife goodnight before she slid out of the van and keeping close to the edge of the car park and the overhanging foliage made her way back to her vehicle. She sat in it waiting for another car to manoeuvre and then left to make her way home to Birdham. Gary knew it was pointless trying to get it before 1.00am as there was too much movement about the area and he would be spotted by some ‘busy body’ who would be bound to call the Police. Just then, some boisterous late departing patrons returned to their vehicles and left the car park in a queue. It suited Gary as he drove out behind them. He travelled via the backstreets to a small industrial estate off Ford Lane where he knew there was no CCTV, and parked behind one of the units. All of them had their own alarms, some of which Gary had installed, and he knew there was no night working or security.

  He was cautious. Getting out of the van he walked slowly about the units making absolutely sure no one was still about or working late. Once he was satisfied, he went to the near side of the van and opened the sliding door. Taking out a small telescopic light aluminium ladder which he could easily manoeuvre with one hand, he put it in the vacant passenger seat.

  Climbing into the back of his van, he opened one of the storage boxes that he had built and fitted himself and propped up the metal lid. Then with a small posidrive screwdriver from his toolbox, he removed the backing to it. Two magnetic number plates were revealed and displayed and were stuck firmly to the underside of the metal. Gary had to pull quite hard to prise them from their hiding place before jumping out and affixing them over the van’s original ones. At night, no one was likely to spot the false plates which he had no intention of keeping on for very long.

  Pulling his dark blue overalls out of another of his boxes, he put them on over his clothes and checked he had wire cutters in the pocket. On both side panels of the van were magnetic ‘boards’ showing his firms details and company logo which he peeled off and threw onto the floor in the back of the van. Sliding the door shut he got back into the driver’s seat. To all intents and purposes, it was now a simple, inconspicuous, plain white van.

  Remaining where he was, he turned the radio on softly, and sang along to the songs he knew, and listened to those he didn’t. Gary was more nervous now at the thought of removing the bird box than when he had removed others previously. In the past, he was always able to collect them without problems as and when he wished because he and Sally were always in control. They had known when the person they were watching via the camera footage was going to have serious medical problems because Sally arranged it. It was so simple then when no one was at the premises for him to take his bird box down. He was even brazen enough sometimes to do it within daylight hours. It beat skulking around at night! This time, someone killed George before they could cause him harm, and they were no longer in control. Sally had not even managed to obtain any monies from him before he was murdered. Whoever had done it had no finesse.

  *

  By 11.30pm, Alison had gone to bed after watching Simon standing on the toilet seat to get a clear view from the high dormer window in the bathroom to the junction where the van was now alone. He’d mouthed the letters, ‘B M W’ and made a movement with his hand to let her know it had gone. She said ‘goodnight’ and was asleep in five minutes from her head hitting her pillow knowing she had made a rash commitment to get up early to go jogging. Simon had gone to the spare bedroom and taken a butterfly knife from his bag, and put it between the headboard supports and the bed. He wasn’t anticipating anything untoward occurring, but like John, he tended to err on the side of caution. When he was content, he got into bed and drifted into a very light sleep waking only once during the night when Hannibal did his patrol of the flat at 2ish, and on realising there was an unknown person in the room, fled.

  *

  John remained vigilant and wide awake ready to take off after whoever drove too slowly past the bungalow. He reckoned that if it was to happen again, it would not be before midnight when there were still a few cars moving about. The later the better for him because it would make it slightly easier for him to follow any culprit without ‘showing out’. Midnight came and midnight went without anyone slowing, or showing any interest, at the bungalow. By half past twelve, John was coming to the conclusion that it wasn’t going to happen, and his thoughts started to turn to Carol, the casualty doctor.

  *

  Gary was getting restless, and the music after midnight was so soporific, he could take no more and turned it off. Then time seemed to slow down for him and practically stand still. He kept checking his watch, ten past, then quarter past, then not quite twenty past. He thought ‘Sod it. I’ll do it now’ and set off for the bungalow. As he was getting nearer, fear started to play on his mind and he decided to drive round the block just to make sure.

  64

  Saturday 11th June 2011

  John saw his headlights approaching from Yapton, and could see he was not travelling at the speed of previous vehicles. Nothing else appeared to be moving along the road. He started the Vauxhall as the headlights slowed to practically walking pace, and then began to accelerate towards Barnham and past the entrance to the barn. Without turning any lights on, and disabling his brake lights, John moved to the junction with the road and could see the tail lights of the van nearing the Murrell Pub in Barnham. Pulling speedily onto the unlit road he accelerated, still lightless, after it. Gary was nervous and thought he saw some movement behind in his rear view mirror as he passed the Murrell. He swung under the railway bridge and turned right towards Lake Lane. No one was following him, and he decided it was just a trick of the light and he was being hypersensitive. Nothing followed him because John had turned his lights on as he passed the Murrell and kept on the road round towards the railway station having seen the tail lights of the van turning into Lake Lane.

  John knew straight away the vehicle was going round the block and would again approach the bungalow from Yapton. As soon as he reached the railway station, he swung a complete ‘U’ turn and drove as fast as possible back to the entrance to the barn and reversed into it and as far back inside the barn as possible. He killed the engine and disabled all the lights and got out as fast as he could disregarding all the additional incurred pain to his ribs and shoulder. Running the fifteen or so yards in a lop-sided manner to the junction with the road he squatted down and hid behind a large thorn bush. Now he was close enough to see the index number of any passing vehicle. He was ready.

  Gary was in no hurry going around the block, checking his mirrors all the way, making completely sure he was not being followed. He stopped at one point in a small pull-in for nearly two minutes to see if anything drove past him. Nothing. Sally and he had not survived for so long by being careless. Looking at his watch for the umpteenth time, he saw twenty to one. He moved off and completed the block as he drove back into Yapton and turned towards the bungalow. No lights anywhere, from houses or cars, he was safe: or so he thought.

  He drove at a snail’s pace along the road towards John, who saw his headlights approaching. Then they were turned off as the vehicle swerved across the road to the entrance of the drive to the bungalow and stopped. It was way too far off for John to see any index number. Scrabbling in an inside pocket, John found his small monocular. It didn’t have night vision capabilities. It was adequate. The driver’s door opened and the interior light
came on for a couple of seconds, as John saw the ladder being dropped just inside the drive.

  Having twisted to manipulate the ladder over his body, Gary slammed the driver’s door making more noise than he wanted in the stillness of the night. The interior light dimmed to extinction. Properly seated in the driver’s seat, he turned the headlights back on and continued towards John’s concealing bush. Putting his monocular back into a pocket John waited. Three quarters of the way between the bungalow and his hiding place was a small parking area for a nursery, and Gary pulled into it and extinguished the lights and turned the engine off. Sitting motionless in the driver’s seat, he surveyed the road scanning for any movement. Not even a fox moving. He was soon satisfied and he got out of the van leaving it unlocked and ran as fast as he could the hundred and twenty yards or so towards the drive to the bungalow.

  John fathomed that this was going to be more than a ‘flash download’ and assumed he was going to be taking the bird box down. His Sat Nav would confirm movement via the ‘trembler’ but he was too far from his vehicle to see. He had time to run in his Quasimodo type way, which seemed to help stop the pain in his ribs, to the van. Making a mental note of the vehicle and index number, he stuck the magnetic tracker from his pocket under the rear offside wheel arch and gave the nearside light cluster a gentle tap with the toffee hammer. The noise it made was similar to a breaking stick, and the hole it made was no more than the size of an old one penny piece. Now his ribs had started to rebel and were hurting more than ever, but he forced himself to run back to the entrance of the drive for the barn and the sanctity of his car.

  Gary had already been up his ladder and cut the bird box free and was moving back along the drive to the road carrying both. Waiting a couple of seconds, he checked the road again for movement and saw nothing. John was already back in his car popping a couple more pills and swigging water. It was an easy jog back to his van, and Gary believed it would be just as easy to do it with the ladder and bird box together which he would hide in the hedgerow if he saw vehicle lights. He would be safe when he was back in his van. As he set off jogging, John was confirming by his Sat Nav that the ‘trembler’ had been activated and the tracker was operational and functioning. John judged the surveillance was going to be easier than he thought. One of them was wrong.

  Gary made it to the van without incident, and put the ladder and bird box on the front passenger seat before jumping in and driving briskly away heading back to the industrial estate at Ford Lane. His adrenaline was overflowing. John watched exactly where he was on the Sat Nav without even moving. Casually he drove out of the barn and followed at a respectable distance as he monitored the vans position without fear of notice. The nearer the industrial estate Gary got, the faster he drove, and as he pulled harshly into it, he bounced over a rubber speed hump dislodging the tracker. It rolled on its edge towards the first unit where it came to rest after it bounced off the side. John saw the vehicle stop according to the Sat Nav.

  Gary jumped out of the van as it came to a halt and yanked the side door open. He grabbed the two magnetic boards from the floor and stuck them back into position on the side panels of the van. Ensuring that they were straight and in exactly the same position as previously, he ran to the front of the van and recovered the false number plate and then the one from the rear. Inside the van, he stuck them back inside the lid of the storage box and then screwed the lining back onto it.

  He was so full of adrenalin his heart was beating so vigorously he could feel his chest moving. But now he felt safe. The ladder was slotted back in its rightful position and the overalls were hung behind the driver’s seat and looked perfectly natural. His laptop was now sitting on the passenger seat in what was its typical locus. The only item out of place in the vehicle was the bird box lying on the floor in the back of the van. He could get around that if any nosey copper asked too many questions.

  Firing up his laptop, he opened a programme and typed ‘HA’ (Home Address). Within milliseconds there was an electronic voice saying, “Map prepared and downloaded.” A map flashed up on the screen which was comparable to a Sat Nav, but Gary very rarely needed to look at the map because he just used the electronic voice to guide him. ‘Continue when ready.’ Fully relieved and slowly coming down from his adrenalin induced high, he pulled smoothly out of the unit and started on a circuitous journey home.

  John had parked parallel to the road by the entrance to Ford railway station keeping an eye on the Sat Nav and occasionally looked across the fields to the darker outline of Arundel Castle against the clear moonlit night sky. As Gary flew past on his way to join the A27 at Arundel, John gave the van a blasé glance as it was level with him and saw a colourful logo and sign writing on the side. He shut his eyes and let the pain in his ribs continue to gently subside after his strenuous activities.

  The road was straight with undulations for over a mile and then swung round to the right just before it reached the outskirts of Arundel itself. When John opened his eyes again, Gary was just arriving at the bend and braking to slow down. Immediately, John’s gaze was drawn to the white spot surrounded by red at the nearside of the van, even at a mile’s distance. Galvanised into action, John took off in pursuit knowing without the tracker he didn’t have much hope.

  Gary turned left into Maxwell Road, a small side road which led into a maze of other streets. His laptop was ‘speaking’ to him from the passenger seat and was guiding him to the A27 without passing the ANPR (Automatic Number Plate Reader) camera at the main roundabout at Arundel. John hurtled past the entrance to Maxwell Road and on reaching the roundabout just by the River Arun saw there was no sign of the van in any direction. Picking the road leading up to Whiteways Lodge, he accelerated hard up the hill towards the crest, but long before he got there, he knew he had picked the wrong road.

  Gary had joined the A27 and was accelerating up to the speed limit as he headed towards Chichester and onto Birdham keeping within the limit at all times. His laptop was still directing him with its ‘electronic voice’ to avoid all the ANPR cameras. This night was different. He still had a fair dose of adrenalin pumping round his body and for once chose to ignore all his laptops protestations. Tonight, he wanted to get home as quickly as possible and decided to ignore its constant rerouting until he got to the first roundabout on the Chichester bypass.

  65

  Saturday 11th June 2011

  Alison had an alcohol induced, undisturbed night’s sleep, awakening with a jolt as her screeching alarm clock told her it was 5am. She hit the top of it with venom, stopping it abruptly, and fighting the urge to turn over and return to the arms of Morpheus, put her feet on the floor and sat stationary on her bed yawning. Simon called in his cheery voice from the kitchen asking if she wanted a coffee before they set off. Replying as politely as she could muster for the time of day in the negative, she forced herself up and into her jogging gear and shuffled into the kitchen to find him ready and raring to go.

  ‘What,’ she thought, ‘possesses a normal human being to rise at this unearthly hour to put themselves through hell when they could have another hour in bed!’ Furthermore: ‘why on earth did I agree to go with him?’

  He said, “Couple of miles this morning?”

  “Yes, why not.” she heard herself saying and hoped he wasn’t as fit as he looked.

  Simon bent to tie a lace as she locked her front door and he slid a very small sliver of wood between the door and the jam. Her phone stuffed into one small pocket and keys in the other she was set. Then they set off out of the cul-de-sac and left at the junction passing the watcher’s van and to the immediate ‘T’ junction less than fifty yards from it. Turning right, they ran on along small residential side streets towards the fields leading towards Goodwood aerodrome. He knew that no one would follow them and told her that the person in the van looked like he had been there all night. She hadn’t run this fast for years, and to her it did not constitute a jog but a full-on sprint. Alison could not understand
how he could speak so easily whilst running as she was struggling for breath. Within a mile, they turned onto a signed footpath leading into a field, and within a few yards, he stopped.

  “Thank God for that,” she gasped, “Why do you run so bloody fast?”

  “That’s a jog. I normally run about five miles before breakfast.”

  They walked slowly along the footpath as she regained her composure and discussed her flat and the listening devices. Deciding to lie a little in order to calm her, Simon actively advocated how he could not understand why they would want to bug her flat if they were primarily after causing John some harm, unless it was in the hope of finding out his location. Not one person wanted to tell her she was the target, they wanted her to work it out for herself. They were all surprised she had not come to this logical deduction. Simon had assumed she knew but was refusing to accept it. When he asked her if she knew where John lived, she said she knew his registered address, but did not always know where he spent his nights. There was, thought Simon, a tad of disgust in her voice, or he may have mistaken it for jealousy.

  He told her he would recover his car from the car park later in the day and place it nearer her flat and asked where he should meet her when she finished work.

  “No more alcohol for a while that’s for sure, so no pubs. Lakes Café if you can find it.”

  Then, “I’m sure I can. Ready?”

  She sighed, “What?”

  “Race you back” and he turned and started running but not nearly as fast as previously allowing her to keep pace with him.

  As they ran up the metal stairs to her front door, he wasn’t sweating or even breathing heavily, but Alison was out of breath and ‘glistening’ as she preferred to say. He saw the small sliver of wood on the floor and taking the keys from Alison’s hand, unlocked and pushed open the door. No unexpected surprise: they both went inside with Simon to the fore. Quickly checking the flat for any intruder, he held up his thumb signalling the all clear. In his room, he checked his bag which he instantly knew had been searched. Items of clothing had been lifted on one side and not quite replaced correctly. It was a little thing but unnecessarily careless. The little box with the scanner wasn’t there because he had secreted it earlier behind the toilet and he knew no one would have had time to do a thorough search while they were out.