Midnight came and went with no one crossing the rubble bridge. Wondering what the little Russian was up to was starting to drive his thoughts all over the place. The two brothers, Petrovski and the little Russian had left roughly at midday. No one had visited or checked on Alison since. He started to think the worst may have happened, but realised that he had spoken to her after they had last been there. ‘What the hell is he up to?’ He called John and asked him.
“God knows. It’s strange. Could it be some kind of trap?”
“I’m going to see her at two whatever. I think she may be hurt badly.”
“I’ll go to the Royal Oak. They never get to bed much before one. It will give me time to have a wander round.”
“Be careful John.”
John who had imbibed a few large scotches earlier in the office drove towards Lagness. His aim now was to drive round to the rear car park, have a ‘swift half’ with the licensee and then mosey about as though drunk. Simple he thought until he arrived. At the front of the pub was the bronze BMW and the dark blue Audi.
Both were parked directly under the wall mounted CCTV camera which faced towards the road and probably caught some passing traffic. The conclusion that John had come to for Gary in his van to have used the ridiculously potholed, excessively long, short cut.
He kept on past. As soon as he reached a safe spot a mile further on, he called Simon.
“Their two cars are at the pub. No sign of them though. I don’t believe they would have been invited for afters, but you never know.”
“Can you put in a surreptitious call to your friends there?”
“I’ll give it a go and call you back.”
Seven minutes later, John called Simon who had moved to the car park of McDonalds in Portfield Way.
“The pub’s empty and they haven’t seen anyone by the cars. I don’t like it. Where the hell are they?”
“John, I’ve got to get to her. I’ve looked at the map, and I think I can get in from the back.”
John scrolled his Sat Nav map about and said, “It looks like you can but it’s a good two miles across fields.”
“I’m going for it.”
Driving through McDonalds, he bought three burgers and a milk shake and then set off.
101
Thursday 16th June 2011
The Lexus sped to a small side road that turned into a dead end. At the end, Simon pulled onto the verge and got out. Picking out of his bag the items he needed, he reluctantly put his camouflage gear back on. He wedged the burgers and milkshake inside his coat, and set off. His monocular which he set to night mode, spent an inordinate amount of time glued to his eye.
Without it he would have twisted an ankle and never have made it. What he really needed was a full fixed head kit of night vision gear, but in its absence, the monocular had to suffice.
Simon scanned constantly watching the ground and suspecting a trap. He saw nothing untoward, and knew that the only one of the four who could probably evade him would be the little Russian. As he neared the barn, he turned the monocular to thermal imaging. Still nothing of note. The closer he got, the more cautious he became. His watch showed ten past two. He’d made fair time.
Realising if someone was concealed and had night vision capabilities, he would be seen whatever he did, he pressed on.
No one was waiting for him at the barn. With his thermal imaging, he scanned the fields around. He checked the hedgerow either side of the wattle gate. Something at the very edge of the monocular moved way over by the church. Turning to focus his attention towards the church, he thought for a second he saw the image of a human and then it disappeared. Straight away he knew that there would be someone else hidden at the other end of the road.
Now he was happy.
“John. I know where they are.”
“Where?”
“One’s in the church and another must be at the other end of the road. I just caught sight of the one by the church as he shifted position.”
“That’s two, be careful, there are four remember.”
“Perhaps they are relieving each other.”
“Call me with an update on Alison.”
“OK.”
“Stupid place to leave the cars in full view.”
“Yeah. Very slapdash.”
He went into the prison to find Alison awake and lying on her back in the bed. She smelt of puke, and her hair was straggly and plastered to her head in places. Her skin looked sallow and her eyes were puffy and one was colouring and would soon turn black. She didn’t sit up and he could see she was in pain. Her hands clasped the water bottle.
“What did they do?”
She lisped as she whispered in reply, “I have two teeth about to fall out, and a mouthful of blood.”
“Open your mouth.”
“Can’t.”
“What else?”
“The bastard just broke my thumb. With one hand, slowly.”
“Let’s see.”
She just held up her hand and Simon knew what the trap was. It was a clever ploy. Simon realised the thumb had been dislocated deliberately by the little Russian who knew if there was a night visitor, they would probably be able to reset it.
“Can’t feel it.”
“You’re not going to like what I am going to tell you.”
It was a horrible colour already.
“It’s only dislocated. I think it was done to find out if you were being visited. If I reset it, they will know.”
She looked pleadingly into his eyes.
“I can’t Alison.”
He knew that the longer it was left, the worse it would get and harder to fix.
“My side. I think I have broken ribs.”
“May I?” and he pulled the blanket back exposing her body. She couldn’t have objected even if she had wanted. Putting his hand on the bruise that had already started to form, he felt gently about. His hand was warm and had a soothing effect. He could feel ribs that moved which should not have done.
“I think you have at least two broken ribs, try not to move too much.”
“Really? Will I have to stop my exercises?” Looking at him, “Food?”
“I’ve got you a choice of hamburgers.”
“Christ.”
“This time of day, that’s all I could get.”
“I can’t chew.”
“I could knock you up a stew.”
“Chocolate?”
He produced a couple of small bars of different flavours and the milk shake. The drink was like a nectar to her, and she held individual pieces of chocolate in her mouth and let them melt at their own pace.
“You smell.”
“So do you.”
She thanked him for the water, and when he looked bemused, she said, “The water bottle you put through the hatch for me, with those stupid sweets.”
“I didn’t put it there.”
“Who did?”
Simon said, “I think I told you earlier that I thought it was Petrovski.”
“I can’t remember seeing you earlier.”
“I was outside calling through the hatch.”
She started to cry, “Why didn’t you come in to see how I was?”
“I’m sorry, there were things I had to do.”
“I was hurting and you had ‘things to do’?”
“I should have come in. I’m sorry.”
She sobbed in silence. Eventually she regained her composure and grasped his hand.
“I forgive you.”
“Thanks. Where’s your bag?”
“What?”
“Where’s your bag?”
“Under the bed. Why?”
Simon found and opened her bag and took out what she had thought was a small button.
“This has gone flat” and he dropped a new bug into her bag.
Alison started to cry again.
“Now what have I done?”
They chatted about very little, and there were lengthy periods of
silence. He held her good hand and broke off the odd bit of chocolate and put it in her mouth.
“I can’t take this much longer.”
“I’ll call your Dad.”
“Get me out Simon.”
102
Thursday 16th June 2011
For most of Wednesday evening, and into the night, Jimmy, John and Paul were in the office talking tactics and Paul was jotting notes in a new pad he’d acquired specifically for the oncoming investigations. Prodow had already started a new murder book in anticipation of potential revelations. Doreen spent several hours going through the Exhibit books and looking at all the media as she completed a typed list of 212 addresses. When she’d finished, and gone through it with Paul, he put various officers’ names against each address. Then she set about printing off a map displaying the area around each one. Due to the lateness of the hour and the length of time she had been working, a detective was deputed to take her home.
On walking through her front door, there was no hint of a welcome. Her Mother berated her firstly for leaving so early in the morning and disturbing her sleep in the process and then arriving home at a ridiculously late hour. With no thought or concern for her daughter’s wellbeing, she informed her that her ruined hot evening meal was still in the oven, and then muttering to herself, climbed the stairs to bed four hours later than her regular time. Doreen who had hardly uttered a word, just watched her struggling up the stairs.
Prodow had returned to the office at 9ish and had agreed that the interviewing officers, six in total, should remain the same. Neither of the Simpsons had yet answered any questions put to them, which had probably been their lawyer’s advice. Paul had stipulated forcefully the following morning’s briefing for everyone (except the Chief Constable) was due for 8am. There would be no excuses tolerated for absence, other than Murray’s. Then as everything was being finalised, Groves walked into the office. The incumbents were pleasantly surprised by his appearance and a half bottle of scotch was recovered from Doreen’s desk, poured into, and then proffered, in a tea cup.
Groves willingly accepted without quibble, and downed an inch of golden liquid in one shot, and accepted a top up. An hour passed as they discussed Murray and the case. Quite openly, Groves stated he hated being a DI and having to sit behind a desk every day, and hankered for his time when he was an active DS working the streets. He confided in them in no uncertain terms that whatever he did or said was bound to upset someone, and he had become what he always detested in ranking officers: a political animal. Then he apologised profusely to Prodow, who, to an extent acceded his comments.
They all went their different ways, and were back in the office well before 8am. John and Jimmy had breakfast together in the canteen, and Paul and Doreen had made sure they were fully sustained before they left home. All four were expecting a long day. Prodow entered the office with Groves and asked if there had been any change from overnight, and was thankful when told there had been none. Then after coffee for the majority, and a cup of tea for one taken in the office, they went to the briefing room walking in at 8.15am. All those assembled expected the 8.15am entrance and most were holding or drinking from polystyrene cups.
Prodow started the meeting off, and quickly let everyone know the Chief Constable would be in the office at about 11am and it would be best if all the enquiry teams were not in the station. They all took the flagrant hint. Updating all with Murray’s condition in hospital, he handed over to Paul, then sat by a window adopting his ‘praying’ mode. It took a fairly long time for the full briefing: but everyone present was in no doubt as to what had already been discovered relating to the Armstrong enquiry and Masters. Paul allocated each team of two their first address and told them to get their copy video footage from Jimmy.
After the main meeting, the interviewers were given additional briefings by Paul and John, and it was just after ten when they both got back into the office. Prodow and Groves were talking to Jimmy who had handed out the first ten addresses’ media. Groves requested that he stay in the office as liaison with Paul, the hospital and family of Murray. Prodow wasn’t sure, but seeing a subtle nod by Paul, agreed. The phone on Paul’s desk burst into life, and was answered by Doreen who hung up straight away.
“The Chief Constable is on his way from the car park. That was his driver.”
“Good morning. Hardly any traffic today, so got here early. Hope I’m not inconveniencing you at all?”
“Not at all Sir” was the glib lie that Prodow uttered with no sincerity.
“Well now, hello Doreen, nice to see you are still sorting out everyone’s hieroglyphics. Paul: you still running the place?” Paul mumbled some incoherent reply. “Groves: how are you finding work on a major enquiry? Prefer it to a station?” But before he could respond, the Chief continued, “Looking at that lot, you must be the exhibits officer.”
Jimmy was quicker than Groves, “Yes Sir. My first major job.”
The Chief cut across him, “Good man. You must be Oscar. Heard a lot about you. Not all good I must say, but you can’t boil an egg without cracking a few shells.”
John thought it best to say nothing.
Doreen cut in and said, “Still two sugars in your coffee?” and took the kettle out.
“You sure you don’t want to come and work for me?”
“No thanks. Too far to travel. I always told you, your writing is the worst in Sussex.”
103
Thursday 16th June 2011
They all sat round Paul’s desk with Prodow in his chair, and the Chief was brought up to date with the minimum amount of information. Prodow was always impressed how much information the CC retained and recounted at later times practically verbatim. What they told him now did not seem to tax him at all. His priority, as they all expected, was concern for Murray and his condition and what he could do to help. Concern for his staff endeared him to them. Groves gave him the latest news, and what was arranged at Southampton. The Chief’s attitude was that Murray; a Sussex Police Officer should be brought back to a Sussex hospital; preferably St Richard’s in Chichester. It was agreed by Prodow, but Groves was starting to assert himself, and pointed out that until all the main operations had been conducted successfully that he should not be moved from the hospital in Southampton.
The Chief, who had heard unfavourable accounts about him, listened to his argument and saw it made sense. He didn’t seem as inept as others had suggested, and was not afraid to challenge a senior officer if he disagreed with him. It made a pleasant change from all the ‘Yes’ men at headquarters. His driver had already told him it had been Groves who had brought the prisoner, Gary Simpson, under control with a simple threat. The bit about the iron bar having been conveniently missed out. Looking at Groves with new eyes, he was amazed that a near six-foot body builder, who withstood gas to the face and blows with asps who had seriously assaulted one officer and injured another, could be brought under control by an apparently unfit DI with a simple threat.
The Chief was drinking coffee and reminiscing with Doreen about long past jobs where he had been the Officer leading enquiries. As Bruce Springsteen put it so well, ‘Glory Days.’ Two officers from the enquiry team, one a sweating DS, burst into the office and suffered a harsh glare from Prodow.
“Sorry to interrupt, but we got back as soon as we found out. You have got to hear this.”
Paul said, “Go on?”
The DS told them the address they had been given, was just North of Chichester in the village of Lavant. They had viewed the tapes given to them by Jimmy and had seen Sally Simpson visit the premises on eleven different days which, when checked, turned out to be on Tuesdays between 2.pm and 3.pm. On two separate days, three months apart, when she exited the house via a side door, she had given a ‘thumbs up’ sign in the direction of the camera. On the first day she did it, an ambulance arrived five hours later, and conveyed the elderly lady occupier to hospital in Chichester.
The second time she gave the signal, n
othing happened until the following day after a visit from a neighbour. When the ambulance turned up, the crew went into the house and left an hour later, with an empty ambulance. The reason being, the coroners officer had arrived. When the DS checked, he discovered that the lady had died from an ongoing unknown stomach complaint being treated by her GP. She had been advised to visit him when discharged from the hospital. A post mortem was not called for as two Doctors signed the death certificate. She had no known relatives, and had died intestate, so the inquest had been a formality.
She had been cremated, as was the custom with people with no relatives or will, and her remaining monies had gone to Her Majesty’s Treasury. There was one piece of good news that they had found: one of the doctors had taken some kind of biopsy from the lady the first time she had gone to hospital and it was still in the pathology lab at St Richard’s Hospital. The Chief looked shocked.
Prodow said, “Shit.”
Paul said, “This is just the start” as Jimmy started to arrange for a SOCO to get the specimen.
104
Thursday 16th June 2011
Groves, Paul and John went into a huddle and decided that the interviewing teams should be acquainted with the new information, and Paul set about phoning them. Prodow and the Chief wandered out of the office together, and to the waiting Jaguar with the Chief’s driver sitting in the passenger seat reading the Sun newspaper. He saw them approaching and was out in a flash and holding the back door of the car open.
“How many do you think these two have done for?”
“There’s two hundred and twelve different addresses. I hope to God it’s nowhere near that.”
“Are we dealing here with a pair of serial killers?”
“It’s starting to look like it.”
“What do you think, all poisoned?”
An Urgent Murder Page 33
