“I’m seeing him this afternoon. Have you the notes on the test results for the good Dr Smyth to see?”
Julie slid the file across the table.
He left to make one more call before Peter Lee, the boy who drank from the bottle alongside Carl Granger, left for school.
***
The black, hand pump bottle sat in front of Cyril. “It’s the same as used to clean Tony Thompson’s body.” He paused. “I called on Peter Lee this morning, the lad who drank from the found bottle at Stray Rein. He did a double take and said that the bottle was identical to the one they drank from apart from its not having the pump action top. Coincidence, or is it a mass marketed bottle? We’re checking.”
Liz tapped the white board. “You were right about Gregson’s son, he’s Sonya James’s boyfriend. Like you, Sir, I had an early start. Stuart Park and me, well, we paid her a visit and believe me she doesn’t make good viewing in a morning. Gregson doesn’t visit any longer. The Internet has obviously had an effect…the eldest daughter’s expecting his child. She’s sixteen, just! Sonya also believed he was grooming the next one too when he was looking after them. Can I bring him in?”
“What’s her name?”
Liz checked her notes. “Kylie James.”
“And the name of the girl with the two lads in Gregson’s cold store?”
“Certainly not Kylie.”
“Get a DNA sample and see if she’s been in the store. I’ll organise a warrant. Get the Response Team and bring in Jason Gregson and seize any computer equipment in the house. Owen what do you know?”
“Mrs Jenkins makes a brilliant cake.” He looked at Cyril and Liz who were rather taken aback. “Also, doesn’t mind her husband having sex with a bloke, not that she knows he’s a male. She likes Pamela and owing to her difficult circumstances turns a blind eye. But we knew that. What you didn’t know was that Samuel also helped Bruce out when Pamela was unavailable, so how does that work? We also have an old van on the drive and a locked garage, plus his catering trailer is stored in The Royal Oak’s car park. I’ve checked and it’s there. There’s a CCTV camera belonging to the pub that looks onto the car park so I doubt that any illegal activity takes place there. I’ve also checked with NEC and a large catering exhibition and show is on for the next three days. According to their records Jenkins has a trade pass for three…” Owen didn’t finish.
Stuart Park burst in holding his iPad. “Face time image, Sir. Sent in by a local Community bobby who was called to Bachelor Gardens. They found this at the end of the road.”
Cyril looked at the images. The plastic bag clearly held the corpse of what he assumed was Carl Granger but also what appeared to be a second child.
“It’s Norman White and he’s alive. Bound, gagged and bagged but alive. There’s also another jar. Paramedics are on their way as are Forensics. We’ll be getting Norman away before the SOCO’s do their stuff.”
“Eight days after he delivered the clothing.” Cyril said without any triumph to his voice. “We’ve spooked someone into action. All we need to find out is who.”
***
The whole of Bachelor Gardens, a narrow lane and cul-de-sac, was sealed and further tape and officers were positioned just after the cut through for Burns Way. Tape fluttered in the light breeze. Owen parked on Burns Way and walked through the pedestrian cutting, showing his ID to the two PCSOs who were keeping a gathering group of spectators and journalist at a designated distance. He could smell the treatment works.
Walking down the lane, Owen glanced at the allotments to his left and the irony didn’t escape him. This person really knew how to stage a show, what with gardens and the treatment works he had a double hit.
The small lane alongside the car park was full of vehicles. Further lengths of blue and white tape stretched across the gravel entrance to the car park and another PCSO secured the perimeter. The blue flashing lights of the paramedic response vehicle cast their blue, ethereal light onto the browning leaves that overhung the footpath running to the right. Owen stared at the bagged body, now leaning slightly to one side. It was as if someone had been delivered of premature twins, one still trapped within the amniotic sac, whilst the other child was out in the open. That one, Norman, lay on a foil blanket, an oxygen mask attached to his face; a Police constable held a saline bag as the paramedic secured the line into Norman’s right wrist. Nobody else entered the area in order to protect any Forensic integrity. Within five minutes Norman was transferred to the waiting ambulance before it moved slowly away from the scene. Within minutes the siren’s wail could be heard.
The Forensic team moved in. Owen felt a hand on his shoulder,
“Dr Pritchett.”
“Left you to it has he, David?”
“Owen Ma’am. He’s on a house call. He predicted this, the date I mean, when the body would be found, but he didn’t think we’d have Siamese twins. Which sad bastard puts a live kid in the same bag as a dead one?”
“He had to in order to double bag them. He’s lucky he was found in time otherwise you’d have had two dead ones.”
Julie moved to the rear of her car and changed. “You know Hannah?”
“Cyril mentioned her from the last crime scene. Her photographs were good.”
Julie could see that Owen was not really paying her attention; he was too engrossed looking at the body.
“Dr Pritchett, there’s another jar by the body I believe. As soon as you can I want to see pictures of it and if you can manage, the contents. That’s if Hannah can.” He smiled at Julie knowing full well that she’d have the pictures to him forthwith.
Owen stood by the fence; his eyes scanned the field oblivious to the working of the Forensic Team behind him. He could no longer smell the aroma from the water treatment works at the end of the lane. He smiled inwardly, Sewage Works he knew them as, and that was if he were being polite, now water treatment; funny how the water board gilded the lily.
Hannah came over to Owen. She held the camera so that he could see the shots she had taken. He made notes.
Poena Honey, 2015 - Hand written in Black ink - Looks same style of writing as previous jars - Nothing on the inside of the label - Contains object.
He looked up at Hannah.
“Dr Pritchett suggests it’s a tongue as before. It says, we believe, Lies kill. We’ll know more when we have it back at the lab.”
Owen made further notes and then thanked her as he was turning away.
“Hannah, I don’t know what time I’ll finish tonight but would you fancy a drink?”
She smiled. “Sorry, no thanks.” She ducked back under the tape.
Owen turned and walked up the lane. The smell returned accompanied by an even stronger taste of rejection, the combination of which seemed to make him feel nauseous.
***
Cyril pulled into the car park of the small industrial unit. The M62 had been particularly slow. He often felt thankful he lived where he did. He’d had his fill of inner city policing. The memories were often nightmares; he didn’t care to dwell on the past. He stared at the sign above the door of the unit, Munditia Chemicals Ltd.
Dr Smyth came into the small reception area after Cyril had rung the bell.
“Detective Chief Inspector Bennett, I presume?’ He held out his hand.
Smyth was taller than he had imagined and handsome. His hair was obviously treated with chemicals but had a subtle greying to the temples.
“How may I help you?”
They soon settled into what looked like a staff room and meeting room. A large table sat in the middle surrounded by eight chairs. The walls were filled with charts, apart from one board that contained photographs of smiling families in what looked to be Africa.
“The reason we’re here, Sir, the only reason! If we can bring cheap, hygienic, safe drinking water to many people for no cost then we have succeeded. The product here will do that but it will also sell in Europe and hopefully worldwide to bring an additional revenue stream.
All the profits will go where the people need them. Sorry! I bang my drum sometimes too loudly.”
“Creditable in this century of greed.” Cyril was sincere. “Dr Smyth, when did you first meet Pamela Shepherd?”
“My Bête Noire, Chief Inspector? Straight to my solar plexus, no foreplay, I see. Well, I met Pamela in about 1999 to 2000 in Manchester. I was on business and met her in a bar. One thing led to another and there we have it.”
“You knew she was transgender at that time?”
“Yes, beautiful as she was, let’s say I had an inkling. The venue gave a clue.” He smiled. “And yes, I’d been attracted to what some people refer to as lady-boys for a while. Before you ask, I was married with kids, happily I thought, but I was attracted to them. I worked hard and played hard in those distant days.”
“When were you aware that you were seeing your child’s teacher?” Cyril had neither the time nor the patience to dance around Smyth’s sensibilities. Besides weren’t all scientists calculating and clinical?
“Funnily enough, it was a while. Things slip out, no pun Inspector. I believe it was when I overheard a telephone conversation, I just put two and two together.”
“The surname wasn’t the clue?”
“What, Shepherd?”
“Dixon.”
“Samuel Dixon was my son’s teacher, Pamela was known to me as Shepherd. Anyway, I’m sure you know all of this or you wouldn’t be here. My son overheard my wife and I arguing and then rumours spread at school. Adrian said that he had recognised Pamela when he was in Manchester, which was his initial lie. Firstly he experienced the back of my hand closely followed by the trauma of an unstable home life as his parents’ relationship self-destructed, It wasn’t pretty, believe me. He believed the false accusations of sexual impropriety, which, of course, the school had to take seriously. If the police had been involved, my sexual propensity would have made the press, which in turn would have killed my business. There was only one sensible course of action. Fortunately the school had its reputation to protect so, Chief Inspector, it became a game of damage limitation and the only one to lose out was Samuel. Samuel Dixon really didn’t exist, neither Pamela nor the school wished to be associated with the man.”
Cyril sat back and let the last statement sink in.
“What’s your relationship like with your son?”
“He followed my lead professionally but that’s as far as it goes. He’s benefitted from my largesse, nothing was rejected, only a personal father son relationship. I made my bed, Inspector.”
“When did you last see him?”
“We occasionally see each other at professional conferences but other than that, never.”
“His mother?”
“Same. She receives her monthly cheque and is happy.”
“What about Bruce Jenkins?”
“I met Bruce a year ago when I was demonstrating this new product at a catering show. I try to cover all bases, medical, care homes and catering; they are all potentially big markets. Anyway, I wanted a few companies to trial the product so they were offered it at a discounted price. He accepted and the feedback has been very positive.”
“Did you deliver the product?”
Smyth shook his head. “Went by courier.”
“If I were to use your product at a crime scene, would it remove all traces of DNA?”
“DNA is organic. Simple answer or scientific bullshit?”
“Simple. I’m a copper.”
“Without doubt and without trace.”
Cyril slipped the file Julie had given him across the table. He looked through it.
“They could have done the same with bleach, acid, fire and many other ways.”
Cyril collected the file. “Thank you for answering my rather frank questions. I hope that you’ll co-operate and be patient with us. I’d like a list of all your customers to date, a list of people who work here and details of the producers of the product.
“That’s easy as far as the last two are concerned. There are five working here either full or part time as we make the product here from products bought in. I’ll need ten minutes to copy a list of my clients.”
“One last question, why Munditia?” Cyril pointed to the logo.
“Latin for Hygienic. Sums up the product perfectly.” He smiled, leaving to copy the list.
He handed it to Cyril and shook his hand. He’d also brought in a cardboard box. “Please, a gift.” He offered Cyril the box containing twelve plastic hand sprays.
“Sorry, don’t be offended but I can’t.” Cyril smiled. “But the offer is appreciated.”
Having been in Smyth’s company for about an hour, Cyril felt sure that he was neither a kidnapper nor a murderer. He had nothing to hide. He glanced at the file on the passenger seat as the traffic crawled towards the M606. He decided to head home via Bradford.
***
Jason Gregson sat in the same interview room he’d occupied earlier. He stared at the walls. Cameras eyed him from two corners. He could feel the sweat under his arms; a mild smell of ammonia drifted to his nostrils transferred by his increasing body heat. He had grown more confused from the moment they cautioned him. To his left sat his lawyer. Liz entered the room.
“Mr Gregson, may I remind you that this interview is being recorded and that you are under caution. Do you understand the legal implications of that?”
He looked at his lawyer who nodded to him.
“Yes.”
“At the moment we have seized two computers and one phone from your property. Do you have other pieces of technology or the use of other computers capable of internet access?”
“No.”
“Your machines are being assessed at the moment by our technical Forensic team under strict guidelines. Now, please tell me about your involvement with Sonya Jenkins.”
“I met Sonya just because she sold burgers from her van. When I was working I’d often see her van in the layby and would get a coffee or burger. One thing led to another.”
“What the coffee led to the burger or a burger led to the coffee?” Liz played a cruel game, sensing his embarrassment.
“No! No! To...” he paused momentarily. “To sex, like.”
“We are all adults here, Mr Gregson. How long have you known her, let’s say, intimately?”
“Just over a year. I couldn’t stay there, at her place, what with the kids and as you’ll know, she couldn’t come to mine for obvious reasons, so we managed.”
“Did you use the cold store for these liaisons?”
Jason nodded and then looked at his lawyer.
“You have to answer the question.”
“Yes, sorry, but that’s not against the law.”
“Did you take anyone else there?”
There was a long pause. “Yes.”
“Who?”
“I took…” He again glanced at his lawyer who nodded. “I took Kylie, Sonya’s daughter.”
“When was this?”
“August, she was sixteen in July.”
“Convenient that, Jason. Were you waiting for her to turn sixteen, eager, were you, gagging for it, I think the modern term is?”
Jason lowered his head. “Yes, I waited and no I wasn’t. I knew that it would be wrong otherwise. She did all the pushing. She’d had sex before loads of times, she told me, but not with me.”
“Did Sonya know?”
“Did she know? She encouraged it. She was seeing someone else. Christ, I don’t know how she had time to serve food when she was parked in that layby, regular customers were always popping in. Sorry I didn’t mean…”
Liz waved her hand.
“I’d drive by and there’d be a wagon in the layby and the food van would be closed up. On my way back, the wagon had gone and she’d be open. She made money from not only burgers.”
“Did you pay Sonya, Mr Jenkins?”
“No.”
“Did you pay Kylie?”
“No.”
“Did yo
u ever take pictures of Kylie for personal or public use?”
“No.”
“Was it Kylie who used the cold store with the two boys. Did you watch? Take pictures? Is that why Forensics found evidence of a camera attachment so that you could watch back home?”
“No, no, I wouldn’t do that. What are you saying?”
“We know it was used, don’t we? Be convenient that… you spying, watching the fumbling youths with the experienced Kylie. Make good video footage that.”
“No, I didn’t and as far as I know it wasn’t her, but she might have told others about the place and so they broke in and used it.”
“Have you touched Kylie’s younger sister, Mr Gregson?”
Jason frowned and moved back in his chair. “Certainly not. She’s thirteen for goodness sake. What the bloody hell do you think I am?”
“We’re in the process of trying to establish that fact, to find out just what you are, Mr Gregson, and only evidence and time will tell the court that. What we do know is that a man of forty-three likes having sex with young girls of sixteen. Do you think that’s acceptable? You then stop seeing her when you hear that she’s pregnant.”
“One girl, one experienced, willing girl and I did stop seeing her when I was told she was pregnant. I would accept that accusation.”
There was a long pause.
“You have considered that it might not be my client’s child?” the lawyer added, looking directly at Liz.
“I could count on this hand the number of times we did it and I know, as I keep telling you, she had others, lots of others.”
Liz looked at the lawyer and raised an eyebrow as high as she could. “We can hold you here for twenty-four hours but we should have the results from your hard drives sooner.”
Flesh Evidence: a heart-stopping crime thriller Page 16
