An Urgent Murder

by Alex Winchester

  “Certainly looks like a possibility.”

  “What about Armstrong?”

  “Poisoned with a weird concoction. Thing is: these two probably weren’t responsible.”

  “For fuck’s sake Trevor, find out quickly what these two were up to, and who did for Armstrong. When the press get wind of this, the shit will really hit the fan” and with that he got into his car and told his driver to get to Southampton hospital as fast as he could.

  Paul spoke to the team at Worthing first and informed the DS leading it of the new information. The first interview of the morning had resulted in Sally Simpson sitting next to her lawyer examining the walls of the interview room as questions were put to her which she totally ignored and did not bother to grace with an answer. She had probably been told by her lawyer that without any evidence, the Police would have to let her go within thirty-six hours at the most unless they got an extension from a court. Prodow was told this and took the phone from Paul.

  He told the DS to officially arrest Sally for the murder of the lady at Lavant and then ask her specific questions only on the new information. At the conclusion he was to let the lawyer know, if possible in her presence, that she would be charged with murder and Gary was not being charged at the present time. As an afterthought, Prodow told the DS to let the lawyer know that she was being investigated for in excess of two hundred offences.

  “See what you get from that” and he slammed the phone down on its plastic cradle adding another crack to the growing number.

  Prodow sat back down, and Doreen put a cup of coffee in front of him.

  To no one in particular, he said, “The Chief has asked me to delay my retirement till this case is put to bed, and I agreed.”

  Groves said, “Thank God for that. Could you imagine what would happen if I was to take over?”

  They all looked at him and there was silence for a clear five seconds before they all started to laugh.

  The DS leading the team interviewing Gary was faring slightly better, and told Paul that he was coming over to see Prodow. It only took him a couple of minutes as Gary was being held in the custody suite next to the station, and he would have been even quicker if he hadn’t had to wait to be let out of the secure building. He headed for an empty chair, and removed the telephone from Paul’s desk with the toe of his right shoe followed by a swift expletive.

  Prodow said, “What’s the problem?”

  The Sergeant told them that Gary was admitting the two assaults on the Police and accepted he would be charged with them. When he was asked about all the tapes and both Armstrong and Masters he ignored the questions. Then, after the morning’s interview, the lawyer who was acting for him, had approached the DS and told him that Gary would only speak to Mr Groves.

  Prodow looked at Groves and said, “Maybe your last words have no substance. It’s down to you now.”

  105

  Thursday 16th June 2011

  Groves walked back to the custody suite with the DS who on the way gave him a brief resume of what had been put to Gary, and what he’d said. Basically: nothing. The lawyer was waiting for him, and they sat down together in an interview room. What the lawyer said surprised him as assurances were requested.

  “My client realises that he must accept he is guilty of the two charges and will admit them at the very first opportunity, and, he believes that he will receive a reasonably long custodial sentence. What he asks via me is that you could arrange for it to be in a maximum security prison. I must say that this is something I have never requested on a client’s behalf before and I could give him no guidance.”

  “I can’t promise anything because I have not got that level of authority. It would more likely be something that would be arranged via the sentencing Judge or the prison authority. I will see what I can find out and will inform you as soon as I know.”

  “Thank you. I will inform Mr Simpson of that fact.”

  “I will speak to Gary, and explain or answer any questions that he may have. Providing of course that is acceptable to you. Then I need to formally ask him under caution, questions on tape about various other matters.”

  The old DS in him was starting to shine.

  “I have the feeling then that what he may tell you will probably ensure without recourse to a presiding Judge or prison authorities that he serve any potential sentence in a maximum security facility.”

  When Gary was brought into the interview room, both Groves and the brief were already waiting for him, and Groves stood and shook his hand. Gary sat down in the seat next to his brief and the DS sat next to Groves.

  “Before we start Gary, are you getting enough food? You’re a big lad. It looks like you may need a bit more than most.”

  He confirmed he was being well catered for considering what he’d done, and asked that his apologies were passed on to the officers, and Groves agreed to do so.

  “Do you want a tea or coffee?”

  “I would like a tea if I could please.”

  Groves asked the DS to pop out and get one for all of them. The DS wasn’t sure about leaving Groves by himself in the interview room but did as requested.

  As the door closed behind him, Groves told Gary that he was going to be charged with the assaults which he was already aware of and accepted.

  “Before we start, I have informed your learned solicitor that I will answer any question that you may have which are unrelated to this matter. Is there anything you wish to ask me?”

  Gary asked a couple of questions that Groves answered as best he could.

  The DS returned with a tray holding four polystyrene cups and various sachets of sugar and dried milk, and a packet of custard creams. Only the brief declined his cup, which looked to him like liquid mud; the other three didn’t seem to object, and Gary had the majority of the biscuits.

  Once the drinks and biscuits were out of the way. “OK. We have to interview you on tape. But just off hand, why did you ask for me?”

  “You could have hit me, but you didn’t, you gave me the chance. You were fair. I like that. I trust you.”

  Groves began the interview on tape by introducing those present and then cautioning Gary Simpson. He could not have believed what he was going to be told as Gary had remained silent during his previous interviews by the DS.

  Before a question could be put, “I will give you the whole story which will save a lot of time. I know I will be going to prison, but I want you to know what has really been happening.”

  The interview ran for an hour and a half before they stopped it for a lunch, and comfort break. Gary was cooked two steaks and a mountain of vegetables by the cook who brought it over from the canteen, and the interview started again as more tea was drunk. By 6.30pm Groves was sure that Gary had told the whole story.

  He was taken back to his cell, and at the door Groves said, “I’ll come and see you tomorrow and I will be able to give you some information as to how this enquiry will proceed.”

  “Thanks” and he went into his cell as meek as a lamb and lay on the bed.

  Prodow said, “We’ve got all this, and we’re still no nearer who did for Armstrong.”

  John was sitting at his usual desk and Paul and Doreen were behind theirs. Jimmy had deserted his which had a wall of exhibits piled up high on top of it. Groves had bought a couple of fresh bottles of scotch before returning to the office, and the first half of one had been divvied up between them into mugs and cups. Even the semi teetotal Doreen was nursing a cup containing the liquid that was turning her face a slight crimson. A SOCO had been sent with the DS from the interview team to return to the house to pick up the jar from inside the cupboard.

  The Chief walked back into the office, but no warning was received this time. He looked at all the mugs and cups.

  “Hope there’s some left for me” and was gratified when a bottle re-appeared from Doreen’s desk and a generous portion was poured into a fresh mug and given to him by Paul.

  “I think I am going
to have to re-assess this policy of no coffee or tea in the offices” and then took a hefty swig.

  “Wow. That’s good. I needed that.”

  He let them know that Murray had successfully undergone all the operations, and would be staying in Southampton for probably two more days in order that they could confirm no further complications, and then he would be transferred to St Richard’s.

  “I hope that meets with your approval Mr Groves?”

  “Thank you. Yes Sir.”

  “Right. Now how are you getting on here?”

  They all looked at each other wondering who should speak before Prodow said, “Mr Groves has interviewed Gary Simpson during the day and he has admitted that they have killed: albeit some by accident, to his knowledge, fifty-nine people although not Armstrong. They may have killed more than he can remember and some that they don’t know about.”

  The Chief looked shocked as the colour left his face: then draining his scotch he held the mug back towards Paul who half-filled it again.

  106

  Thursday 16th June 2011

  Simon moved to the rear of the prison inside the barn, and then sat where Dimitri had met his demise. The gun was no longer on the wall, and there was nothing evident to show any misdeed having occurred there. He was wide awake and contemplating how the day was to evolve. Already, he had planned for the worst possible scenario. It was sunrise when Simon was finally settled down to wait having phoned Graham and told him: not asked him: that he would be taking Alison out during the day.

  Calling John, “She’s not good John. She needs a doctor. I’m taking her out today. I’ve spoken to Graham and told him. He’s not happy but it’s got to be done. I’ve called Kent for transport.”

  “I’ll speak to my friendly doctor Carol and see if she’s free. Take her to my place. I have a large spare bedroom. It would be better if she was nowhere near her flat.”

  “Yeah. Good idea.”

  At 8.30am Simon heard the engine of an approaching car, and then the door of a vehicle being closed. It was slammed more than closed, and he knew it was one of the Lithuanians from the BMW or the gorilla as the little Russian made hardly any noise when he shut doors. Remaining rock still, and blending into the dark recess of the wall, he watched as one of the Lithuanians moved towards the door of the prison to look through the spy hole. He’d obviously had his orders. For nearly a full ten minutes he kept his eye glued to the spy hole peering hard through it in order to observe the condition of Alison’s thumb. Eventually satisfied that it was still in a dislocated state, he stood back from the door and rubbed his eye hard with the knuckle of his thumb. Then he opened the food hatch and rolled a bottle of water through it. Putting his eye back against the spy hole, he watched as Alison picked it up and struggled to open it without the use of her left thumb to hold the bottle as she turned the cap.

  Shutting the hatch without leaving any food, he walked back to the car, and Simon heard the door slam and the engine start, but the car didn’t move off. The Lithuanian was on the phone to his little Russian master as the car sat idling. Moving quickly and quietly from his observation position knowing any noise would be masked by the idling engine, he worked his way around the dilapidated wall. Simon could hear a muffled voice and was able to get close enough to make out that it was confirming she still had a dislocated thumb. He was within four yards of the vehicle when the passenger window was lowered and the ash flicked from a cigarette. The window stayed down.

  The passenger who had supplied the information about Alison was becoming agitated and was gesticulating inside the car as though the little Russian could see him. It was becoming clear to Simon that Grigoriev was not coming back today. A bit of the lit cigarette he was holding in his waving hand caught the dashboard and dropped onto his trousers. The door flew open and he jumped out brushing the burning ember off. Leaning on the roof of the BMW, he smoked the remains of his cigarette while managing to continue his conversation on the phone. Simon could understand part of the conversation and it seemed that the little Russian who he called ‘Greg’ did not believe him.

  As he snapped the phone shut, he bent down to speak to his brother through the open window.

  “We are to stay here till he’s spoken to the boss. Then he’ll call back.”

  “What’s the problem?”

  “Doesn’t look like it’s worked.”

  “It’s your turn to do it.”

  “We’ll just leave her here. She’ll be dead soon enough.”

  107

  Thursday 16th June 2011

  Simon didn’t move. The slightest movement would have attracted attention. Both Lithuanian brothers stayed as they were, and the engine of the BMW died. Even the slightest noise would now attract attention. It was the start of another hot June day and the driver got out of the car. He lit a cigarette, and just walked slowly away from the car towards the track smoking it. As if a signal, his brother lit another and followed him. Sidling back along the wall to his observation post, he could barely hear the two men talking as he took out his phone, turned it on and sent a brief text to John.

  ‘If you don’t hear from me within the hour, send the cavalry.’

  He checked that the message had gone and waited for the requested receipt before turning the phone off. Standing now as still as a living statue, he waited. It was nine minutes before he heard the phone in the Lithuanian’s hand ring. Simon was too far away to hear what was being said and he needed to know. Casting prudence to the wind, he moved quickly back to the entrance of the barn and stopped behind a complete bit of the wall which concealed him from anyone outside. As soon as anyone entered, they could not fail to see him. It was a gamble he had to take.

  The two men were walking back towards the entrance and the BMW parked directly outside. They stopped by the car and both lent on the roof facing each other as the passenger was speaking on the phone.

  “What do you want us to do then?”

  …

  “Are you sure?”

  …

  “If we just leave her that will do it. Then if he changes his mind we could probably recover the situation.”

  …

  “She’ll be dead in five days. We did this a lot in Serbia.”

  …

  “We cleaned the place before she went in. They won’t find any marks from us.”

  …

  “Nothing here can link us to Birmingham.”

  …

  “He’s well buried. The only animals that will get him are the worms.”

  …

  “OK then. Bye.”

  “What does he want us to do?”

  “Leave her where she is. We’ll come back in a week and clear the place up.”

  “She might drink the water out of the sink.”

  “That’ll speed it up then” and they both laughed.

  “I’ll turn the generator off” and the passenger walked off towards the out building. The driver watched him go to it and then walked into the barn. He wanted to try and see what she would do when the light went out.

  As he entered the barn, he saw Simon. He was quick as he reached with his right hand pulling his favourite old service automatic, an MP-443 Grach that he’d had no trouble smuggling in to the country, from its trouser holster. Simon was quicker. The butterfly knife flashed as the blade first went through the back of the Lithuanians right hand and then out of the palm. Pain was immense and sudden and he dropped the gun. Before he even thought to call his brother, Simon had hit him hard with the flat heel of his now empty right hand driving it hard up through the point of his nose. It broke without a discernible sound as it was driven swiftly into his brain killing him outright before he even had time to fall to the ground.

  Simon stood on the Lithuanian’s wrist as he pulled his butterfly knife clear of his hand and casually wiped it clean on the dead man’s shirt before closing it with a simple deft movement of his wrist and replacing it in his pocket. He had always preferred knives as they were q
uiet and efficient and their use came naturally to him. Now he picked up the fallen gun and checked it. It was fully loaded with eighteen rounds in the magazine and one in the breach ready to go with just the safety catch keeping it safe. Even if he had been able to bring it to bear on Simon, turning the safety off would have slowed him down much too much.

  He was as good as dead with a useless weapon.

  Flicking the safety off, Simon put the gun in his other pocket. Having no idea if it would fire or not would be a gamble so he preferred the dependability of his knife. Dragging the dead body to the back of the barn, he left it on the floor out of sight of the entrance. The small amount of blood that had seeped from the man’s hand was lost in the mud of the floor. He resumed his position at the front of the barn and he heard the generator slowly shut down. There was a muted shout from Alison within her prison that had now become pitch dark as the light in the wall died. The Lithuanian came out of the outhouse and back towards the BMW and got into the passenger seat. He sat there waiting for his brother. Minutes passed and he got out of the car with his own gun a GSh-18 in his hand leading the way. Simon saw the gun enter the barn and the cautious Lithuanian following.

  Simon was crouched down behind the wall which gave him a millisecond’s advantage. He fired the recovered gun slightly upwards towards the man’s stomach. As the Lithuanian had seen Simon, he began lowering his own weapon trying to bring it to bear, but it was too late. The strange heavy calibre of the bullet ripped into his stomach and broke into several pieces which all went their separate ways. It was as if they each had to find a certain organ inside the body.

  By chance, the only one not found was the heart.

  He had been lifted slightly into the air and then driven backwards by the impact and lay on the floor dying in horrendous agony. His gun had fallen way away from him and was beyond his reach. He knew it was only a matter of minutes, but the pain was excruciating. If he could have reached his weapon he would have put it to his head to stop the hurt.

  “Shoot me.”