by Tim Ellis
***
‘King George Hospital laboratory. Zoe Simpkins from the weekend skeleton staff speaking.’
‘Oh yes, hello.’
‘Hello.’
‘I’m Detective Sergeant Rowley Gilbert from the skeleton staff at Hoddesdon Police Station.’
‘You’re that skinny guy who found the lovers’ lane murderer, aren’t you?’
‘It’s not just me. I’m supported by a whole team of people.’
‘Yeah, but you were on the TV, weren’t you?’
‘Yes.’
‘So, I’m speaking to a bona fide celebrity.’
‘Hardly.’
‘Have they asked you to do “Strictly” or “I’m a Celebrity” yet?’
‘I’d be useless at both, I’m sure.’
‘I bet you wouldn’t. You look like a guy who could take care of himself.’
‘Do you really think so?’
‘Definitely. You got a girlfriend?’
‘A fiancée.’
‘Well, if she ever gives you the elbow – I’m available.’
‘That’s very kind of you.’
‘No problem. What did you ring me for?’
‘I was told to call about a rape kit test on Catrina Golding, forensic examination of her clothes, and the DNA sample taken from a Mr Andrew Ross.’
‘Lucky you. You’re speaking to the very person who carried out all of the analysis.’
‘That’s really excellent. Did you find anything?’
‘Did I?’
‘You did?’
‘Now, I can’t say she was raped by this scumbag Andrew Ross, but all the DNA profiles snapped together like Lego.’
‘Thanks very much, Zoe.’
‘Hey, remember – I’m your number one groupie.’
He smiled. He hadn’t had a groupie before. Next, he called forensics about the examination of Ross’ car.
‘Forensics?’ a woman said.
‘Is Di Heffernan there?’
‘It’s Saturday.’
‘You’re there.’
‘I want promotion.’
‘Okay. Do you know the results of the examination of Andrew Ross’ Jaguar?’
‘Yes.’
‘What?’
‘A match. On the front passenger seat we found pubic hair from both parties, and samples of Ross’ semen and Giselle Hamill’s vaginal fluid. In our opinion, sexual intercourse took place on that seat.’
‘Thanks very much . . . ?’
‘You’re welcome.’
The line went dead.
He made his way to the Custody Suite and spoke to the Duty Sergeant.
‘Rosanne! What are you doing here?’
‘You think I’m going to stay at home wailing, screaming and wringing my hands?’
‘Well . . .’
‘Let me tell you, Mr Rowley Gilbert, that I was on the internet last night arranging dates.’
‘But what about . . . ?’
‘You think they’re going to let him out before my biological clock stops ticking?’
‘Well . . .’
‘The answer you’re looking for is NO. And not only that, the bastard was cheating on me. And not only that, the bastard is implicated in a murder, and disposed of a dismembered body. You think I want a baby with him now? I’m going to divorce the bastard as soon as I see a solicitor.’
‘I wish you all the luck in the world, Rosanne.’
‘Thanks, Rowley. Anyway, what do you want?’
‘What do I want?’ He scratched his head. ‘Oh yeah – two things. Send a couple of uniforms to pick up Andrew Ross. He’s going down for rape.’
‘The Jacksons can do that, they’ve done bugger-all for a couple of days. What’s the other thing?’
‘Which interview room is Miles Mottram in?’
‘Parish and Richards are in IR2. The recording system needs repairing in IR1. You’re in IR3. He’s got his solicitor with him already.’
‘He’ll need more than a solicitor to wriggle out of what I’ve got on him.’
‘Well, good luck anyway.’
‘Thanks.’
He’d received a phone call at two in the morning from the forensic officer Bev Erikson.
‘Sergeant Gilbert.’ He felt like a warmed-up corpse. This was the second night in a row he’d been woken up from a deep sleep.
‘It’s Bev Erikson. You said you wanted me to ring you if I found out why.’
‘And have you?’
‘I think so, yes. We found a diary and a letter on the laptop.’
‘Okay, just a minute.’ He went downstairs, so that he wasn’t disturbing Jen, and put the kettle on. ‘What did you find out, Bev?’
‘His mother was a prostitute. They used to live in a one-bedroom apartment in London. When she had clients round, he was stuffed in a cupboard and had to watch what was happening through a crack in the door . . .’
‘And he began masturbating?’
‘Yes – into his mother’s dirty panties that had been thrown into the bottom of the cupboard.’
‘It’s hard to imagine a childhood like that.’
‘And yet there are children out there today who are being moulded into tomorrow’s monsters as we speak.’
‘I suppose you’re right.’
‘I am right, Sergeant. You only have to watch the evening news on the television to see that I’m right.’
‘Why did he cut off the man’s penis and testicles?’
‘I’m not a criminal psychologist, but I’d say he was protecting his mother from the cruel men who continually beat and raped her.’
‘And the trigger?’
‘His mother died in a care home three weeks ago and left him a letter.’
‘There’s still a lot that doesn’t make sense.’
‘Well maybe this will help you make sense of it. In the letter, she told her son that Isaac Scully was his father.’
‘Jesus!’
‘Anyway, I’ll let you get some sleep now.’
‘I don’t think that’s likely, after what you’ve just told me.’
‘Well, some of us are still working.’
He opened the door of IR3 and went inside.
***
The interview with Colin Porter was reasonably straight-forward. At first, he denied everything, but when confronted with the evidence, he had little choice but to tell them why he had killed four women and had sex with their corpses.
Forensic officers found four earrings in an old cigar box in a vent in Colin Porter’s apartment. When they delved into his childhood, they discovered that he was an only child who had lived with his mother until one night – August 1, 1991 – she had committed suicide with a concoction of pills and alcohol.
Colin was seven years old at the time. He climbed into bed with his mother to keep her warm, and it was four days before anyone found him. Of course, by then, the damage had been done.
Social workers fed him into the care system, but they always thought there was something strange about Colin Porter, which was probably why nobody wanted to adopt him.
‘It’s so sad, isn’t it?’ Richards said as they made their way up to the squad room.
‘Many children suffer appalling childhoods, but they don’t turn into serial killers.’
‘I suppose. But that just goes to prove that we’re all unique, doesn’t it?’
‘Have you been watching the Crime Channel again?’
‘I don’t think so.’
‘You’re a terrible liar.’
Aftermath
‘You make the coffee,’ he said to Richards.
‘Again?’
‘I vaguely recall waking you up with a coffee this morning.’
‘I forgot.’
‘I’m just going to clear my intray, check my emails and drink my coffee, and then we’ll go home and put our feet up for the rest of the weekend.’
‘That sounds like a good idea.’
‘Sometimes I have them.’
‘My brain is calcifying.’
‘It’s been noted.’
‘Oh, and I need to get my hair cut at Wally’s.’
‘That’s the old man you went to when we first met, isn’t it?’
‘Yes.’
‘Isn’t he blind?’
‘Yes.’
‘Are you sure you want to have your hair cut by a blind man?’
‘I hate finding a new barber.’
‘Leave it to me. While you’re throwing your mail in the waste basket, I’ll look for a quality hairdresser for you.’
‘Barber. A woman goes to a hairdresser, a man goes to a barber.’
‘What about “Unisex”?’
‘No thanks. I much prefer the normal side of the fence. Are you going to make the coffee? Pretty soon it’ll be midnight and you’ll still be jabbering on.’
‘Huh!’ She stuck her nose up in the air and headed towards the kitchen.
After a brief glance at what was in each envelope, he began transferring his mail from the intray to the waste bin, or to his briefcase to read later. He kept two pieces of mail on his desk to read while he was drinking his coffee.
Richards returned and put a steaming mug in front of him. ‘Did I tell you . . . ?’
‘I can’t read if you’re talking. Haven’t you got a report to write?’
‘Pardon me for . . .’
‘Go over there by the window.’
‘I’ll go into a different room if you want?’
‘That would be good.’
She didn’t though, she moved to a desk by the window and started to write the case report for his signature.
The first piece of mail that he’d kept on his desk contained one paragraph summaries of incident reports from around police stations in Essex. It was a way of keeping every officer up-to-date with what was going on in the force. One particular summary from Epping Police Station attracted his attention – DI Dawn French and DS Brian Garnham had shifted the murder of Carrie Holden and her children – Howard and Sarah – to the “PENDING” pile. He knew what that meant – they’d run out of clues, leads and ideas. He couldn’t let their murders sit in the “PENDING” pile, and eventually drift to the “UNSOLVED” pile. He’d made a promise, and he always kept his promises.
The second piece of mail was marked “PERSONAL – FOR DI PARISH”. He slid the sheet of paper from the envelope. It was a photocopy of a request from the Director of the newly-formed National Crime Agency (NCA) for Detective Constable Mary Richards to join them on secondment for three months.
‘Richards?’
‘I’m not talking to you.’
‘You’re not doing a very good job. Do you want to be a real detective?’
‘I already am a real detective.’
He initialled the “AUTHORISED” box and wrote the date next to it.
***
‘You didn’t come to see me last night, Stickamundo,’ Xena said, closing the newspaper she’d been reading.
‘Have you seen the news?’
‘You think catching a crazy psychopath without me lets you off the hook?’
‘I thought . . .’
‘What have I told you about thinking?’
‘I shouldn’t do it?’
‘That’s right. That’s what you’ve got me for.’
‘I forgot.’
‘So, what are you going to do now?’
‘Go on holiday – the holiday Jen and I never went on.’
‘And leave me here on my own?’
‘You’ll be all right. If I’m at work, the Chief might very well give me another partner. I might get to like the new partner, and then I might not want you to come back.’
‘I see, it’s going to be like that is it?’
‘Like what?’
***
Two fathoms and sinking beneath the Baltic Sea
500 miles from Riga
Israel Voss’ lower leg was broken and trapped in the twisted metal of the seat in front of him. God only knew what had happened. One minute they were flying to Riga in Latvia, where he owned a number of properties, and the next they had plummeted into the Baltic Sea. The pilot and co-pilot had scrambled out, but he didn’t hold out much hope for them. The water had reached his armpits, and it must have been well below freezing.
He couldn’t grumble. He’d had a good life. And as he’d been his stepfather’s apprentice, so he also had an apprentice who would carry on his good works. Upon his death, Zara Roche would inherit everything, and beautiful Zara was much worse than he ever was.
***
Friday, August 29
Following a disciplinary hearing, Constable Jenifer D’Arcy was given a written warning for engaging in detective work – that she was not qualified to engage in – on an unofficial day off.
***
Sometime in the future
Bobby Catalano and Michelle Roland had been having an affair for four months. And although Bobby claimed that Michelle had murdered her husband and dismembered him using her husband’s electric saw, and Bobby had simply disposed of the body, the prosecution charged them both with murder and the jury agreed. They were both sentenced to life in prison, and were required to serve a minimum of fifteen years before parole would be considered.
####
About the Author
Tim Ellis was born in the bowels of Hammersmith Hospital, London, on a dark and stormy night, and now lives in Cheshire with his wife and three Shitzus. In-between, he joined the Royal Army Medical Corps at eighteen and completed twenty-two years service, leaving in 1993 having achieved the rank of Warrant Officer Class 1 (Regimental Sergeant Major). Since then, he settled in Essex, and worked in secondary education as a senior financial manager, in higher education as an associate lecturer/tutor at Lincoln and Anglia Ruskin Universities, and as a consultant for the National College of School Leadership. His final job, before retiring to write fiction full time in 2009, was as Head and teacher of Behavioural Sciences (Psychology/Sociology) in a secondary school. He has a PhD and an MBA in Educational Management, and an MA in Education.
Discover other titles by Tim Ellis at http://timellis.weebly.com/
Also, come and say hello on his FB Fanpage:
http://www.facebook.com/#!/pages/Tim-Ellis/160147187372482
####
Genghis Khan
Warrior: Path of Destiny
Warrior: Scourge of the Steppe
The Knowledge of Time
Second Civilisation
Orc Quest
Book I: Prophecy
Harte & KP
Solomon’s Key
Parish & Richards
A Life for a Life
The Wages of Sin
The Flesh is Weak
The Shadow of Death
His Wrath is Come
The Breath of Life
The Dead Know Not
Be Not Afraid
The House of Mourning
Through a Glass Darkly
A Lamb to the Slaughter
Silent in the Grave
In the Twinkling of an Eye
A Time to Kill
Quigg
The Twelve Murders of Christmas
Body 13
The Graves at Angel Brook
The Skulls Beneath Eternity Wharf
The Terror at Grisly Park
The Haunting of Bleeding Heart Yard
The Enigma of Apocalypse Heights (Novella)
Tom Gabriel
Footprints of the Dead
Whispers of the Dead
Stone & Randall
Jacob’s Ladder
The Gordian Knot
Josiah Dark
Dark Christmas (Novella)
Inigo & Tig
As You Sow, So Shall You Reap (Novella)
Cyrus Kane
An Ill Wind (Novella)
Collected Short Stories/Poetry/Anthologies/Non-fiction
Untended Treasures
&nbs
p; Where do you want to go today?
Winter of my Heart (Poetry)
With Love Project – The Occupier
The Killing Sands (Anthology)
Raga Man (Short Story)
The Writer’s A-Z of Body Language (Non-fiction)
Summer of my Soul (Poetry)
Also planned for 2014/2015:
Mortis Obscura: Scavenger of Souls (Farthing & Trask 1)
The Timekeeper's Apprentice
Deceit is in the Heart (Parish & Richards 15)
Orc Quest Book II: The Last Human
The Sword of Damocles (Stone & Randall 3)
The Song of Solomon (Harte & KP 2)
Dark Matter (Josiah Dark 2)
The Corpse at Highgate Cemetery (Quigg 8)
Chains of Illusion (Cyrus Kane 2)
Souls of the Dead (Tom Gabriel 3)
