Coming, Ready or Not

by Michael Fowler

  She returned her eyes into the room. ‘One more thing before we move on. While we’re still on the subject of trophy taking, who had the assignment of seeing if anything was missing from Gemma’s?’

  ‘That was me, boss,’ the call came from the room. Mike Sampson had his hand raised. He put it down when the SIO looked his way. ‘I learned that Mrs Cooke cleaned the house occasionally for Gemma, when she was pulled out with work, so I took Gemma’s mum up to the house yesterday, and we checked each room and went through her things together. I asked her to see if anything was missing from its normal place. I have to say, it was actually Tom Hagan who gave me the clue of what to look out for. In interview, if you recall, he mentioned that Gemma had been wearing a watch, which caught him, and so she took it off and left it on the coffee table. We searched the whole house but we couldn’t find a watch anywhere. I asked her mum if she knew what it looked like. Although she was vague she can remember Gemma wearing a certain type of watch on a regular basis. She described it to me as having a white face, with crystals around the glass and it had a white leather strap. I’ve asked her to have a look on the internet to see if she can come up with a possible make and style.’

  ‘Good. Well done, Mike,’ Dawn interjected. ‘Let me know the minute you get a result. We’ll circulate that to all Forces as well, just in case another body turns up. And while we’re at it, let’s not forget the blouse Elisabeth was wearing.’ She pointed towards Tony Bullars. ‘See if Linane can give us a better description of it, or if she has any photos of Elisabeth wearing it, which would be a bonus and get that circulated as well.’ She paused and shuffled her gaze between the faces of her team. ‘There was another task I asked to be done. Following my theory that Gemma and Tom Hagan were followed from Sheffield, I want someone to visit the guy, on Manvers Terrace, who revved up Adam Fields with the phone call, on the night of her murder, telling him that he’d seen Tom Hagan go into Gemma’s house. Also, the neighbour, Valerie Bryce. To see if either had them had seen anyone hanging around on the street.’

  ‘That was me,’ called out DC Paula Clarke. ‘I drew a blank with Valerie. It’s as per her statement. She can only recall seeing Adam running off towards the industrial estate. But I did have a stroke of luck speaking with Paul Rose, the mate who rang up Adam. He wasn’t forthcoming at first. Said he didn’t want to get involved. However, after a little gentle persuasion, he did remember seeing someone on the street. He told me, he saw someone hanging back in one of the alleyways opposite Gemma’s house. He said, he thought at first it was Adam, waiting for Tom Hagan to come out of the house, but then just like Valerie Bryce, he also saw Adam running off down the street towards the industrial estate and when he looked back there was no sign of the person.’

  From a slouched position, Dawn Leggate straightened. ‘Any description?’

  DC Clarke shook her head, ‘No, boss. He says that whoever it was, was mostly in shadow. He describes the person as being half-in, half-out of the alleyway and they were too far away for him to get a good view.’

  ‘That’s a shame. But it takes us a step further. It puts someone else in that location at around the time of Gemma’s murder. And it strengthens my theory.’ The Detective Superintendent tapped the palm of a hand. ‘Let’s get this Paul Rose to point out exactly where he saw this person, and get SOCO back to check out the alleyway. Then I want some more house-to-house nearby.’ She supported herself on her hands and launched herself off the edge of the desk. ‘Right, I need everyone’s undivided attention for the next bit.’ She stepped toward a laptop that was set up on a trolley, close by and hit the touchpad mouse. The screen lit up, displaying the Force crest. She addressed the room, ‘I’m going to play you something which was brought to my attention yesterday evening. As you know the technicians have been going through Elisabeth Bertolutti’s mobile to see who was in her contacts and what was in her calls list. Well, as a result, they found that at three forty on the afternoon of the day she was killed, she had made a three-nines call to West Midlands Police.’ She watched the expectant expressions appear on the faces of her team. ‘We got on to them yesterday and they’ve sent us a disc with a recording of that call.’ With the tip of her forefinger Dawn scrolled across to an icon on the screen and tapped the touchpad. The screen format changed. She selected a folder, opened it and tapped again. After several seconds a female voice broke the hush.

  ‘Emergency Helpline, which service do you require?’

  Elisabeth Bertolutti’s anxious voice replied, ‘Police, please.’

  Following a short ringing tone, signifying the transfer of the call, a male voice answered, ‘West Midlands Police, can I help you?’

  ‘I think I’m being followed.’

  ‘Who am I talking with?’

  ‘Elisabeth Bertolutti.’

  ‘How do you spell that?’

  She spelled out her name slowly.

  ‘And is this number you’re calling from your own number?’

  ‘Yes, it’s my mobile.’

  ‘And what is your address?’

  She gave the Call Handler the address in Street.

  ‘And where are you calling from?’

  ‘Leicester Forest Service Station.’

  ‘And you say you’re being followed?’

  ‘Yes. Well, I think I am.’

  ‘What makes you sure you’re being followed. Has this happened before?’

  ‘No, it’s not happened before. It’s just that I almost bumped into this man I know. Well, I briefly know. He surprised me because I didn’t expect to see him up here. He lives in London, you see, or I think he does.’

  ‘So it’s someone you know?’

  ‘Not exactly. I think it’s someone I’ve had hassle with recently. I’m not being helpful am I? It’s just that it’s unnerved me.’

  ‘I can tell that. Just calm yourself down, Miss Bertolutti. You’re talking to the police. Are there people around you? Are you still inside the service station?’

  ‘Yes. I’m in the ladies toilets.’

  ‘So you’re safe then?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Good. So take your time. Do you know the name of this man, who you say is following you?’

  ‘I think his name’s Dale. I don’t know him that well.’

  ‘Do you know where he lives?’

  ‘No. Only that he’s from London. I think. I don’t know him that well.’

  ‘And you say this has never happened before?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘So, what makes you think you’re being followed by this man?’

  ‘Well, there’s no reason for him to be here, is there?’

  ‘I’m afraid I can’t answer that, Miss Bertolutti.’

  ‘Do you think I’m overreacting?’

  ‘I’m not saying that. If you’re saying this has not happened before, what makes you certain you’re being followed now?’

  ‘Just that he shouldn’t be here.’

  ‘Do you think it might be a coincidence?’

  There was a pause, then Elisabeth said, ‘Do you think it might be a coincidence?’

  ‘Well has this man said anything to you, or done anything?’

  ‘No, we just almost bumped into one another, that’s all. Then I’ve come into the toilets to phone you.’

  ‘Can I make a suggestion, Miss Bertolutti?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘When you leave the toilets, have a good look around, and if you feel unsafe, or you’re unsure, and you see this man hanging around, then don’t hesitate to call us and I’ll send out a police officer straight away. Does that sound okay?’

  ‘Yes. Yes, I’ll do that.’

  ‘Also, in the meantime, I’m guessing you’re on your way home to Yorkshire?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Well, while you’re driving, if you see anything suspicious, a car following you for instance, for too long, slow down and let it pass. If you see it after that, pull onto the hard shoulder and call us immediately. We’ll
dispatch an officer to you straight away. Is that okay?’

  ‘Yes, thank you for your help. I’m sorry to trouble you.’

  ‘No trouble, Miss Bertolutti.’

  The call ended.

  Dawn checked out the looks on her investigators’ faces, as they exchanged glances with one another, across desks and across the room. She brought back their focus with, ‘Now that’s what I call a breakthrough.’ She bounced her gaze around the department. Then she aimed a finger at the laptop. ‘I don’t know about you lot but something tells me that was no coincidence. Bumping into a man who she’d recently had hassle with at a motorway service station. And then a few hours later she’s attacked and murdered at her home.’ She slowly shook her head, ‘No, this looks to me like this was meant to happen. Unless anyone can come up with a different suggestion, it’s my guess, this man is our killer.’ She saw a few nodding her way. Clasping her hands and rubbing them together she fastened her eyes upon Tony Bullars. ‘Tony, as the only person in this room who knew Elisabeth, does anything of what you’ve just heard ring any bells?’

  Biting down on his lower lip, Tony screwed up his face. ‘Do you know, it might do.’

  All heads turned towards him.

  ‘I first met my girlfriend, Linane, as a result of a bust-up she and Elisabeth had with a couple of guys in a bar near Covent Garden.’

  ‘You have a captive audience, Tony, tell us more.’

  ‘To be honest there isn’t that much to tell. This happened six months, or so, ago; September time. I’ll have to check the date. I went down to London for a long weekend to catch up with my sister and her husband and they took me to a matinee show of ‘We Will Rock You,’ on the Saturday afternoon. Afterwards we went for a pizza and then for a beer. I’d just got to the bar, in this pub, near the restaurant we’d been to and this argument kicked off behind me. I looked round and saw Linane and Elisabeth in the middle of this almighty bust-up with a couple of blokes. There was a fair bit of shouting and pushing going on and then I saw Elisabeth backhand one of them, and I could see he was about to crack her one back, so I jumped in and grabbed hold of his wrist. Me and this guy had a little bit of a tussle, well, to be honest, it was more of a handbags at dawn, than a tussle and then a couple of bouncers appeared. I flashed my warrant card and the two blokes Linane and Elisabeth had been arguing with were thrown out. That was it. End of. As a result of the shenanigans, I’d got some drink spilled on me and Linane offered to get it cleaned. That was how we met.’

  A couple of wolf-whistles erupted.

  Child-like, Mike Sampson issued, ‘Ooh, my knight in shining armour.’

  Tony blushed.

  With a shake of her head and through a smile, the Detective Superintendent said to her audience, ‘Bunch of reprobates. Some of you just can’t help yourself, can you?’ She waited for the sniggers to die away, then said, ‘Carry on, Tony.’

  ‘As I say, that was it as far as I was concerned. It was over and done within seconds. I got chatting to them both, mainly with Linane, asked them what it was all about, and all she said was that one of the guys had been hassling Elisabeth for a date, but she didn’t fancy him.’ He shrugged his shoulders. ‘That’s the only thing that comes to mind.’

  ‘What about descriptions?’ asked Dawn.

  Tony’s eyebrows knitted together. For a few seconds his gaze drifted up to the ceiling. Then, he brought it back down and shook his head. ‘I’m afraid I’m not going to be much help here. As I say the incident was over and done with in less than a minute. I never saw the two guys again. All I can remember is that they were both white, mid to late thirties, the pair were roughly my height – six foot, and medium build, with short dark hair. Oh and the guy whose wrist I grabbed had dark brown eyes. He gave me this really evil stare.’ His lips tightened. ‘That’s it, I’m afraid.’

  ‘Okay, never mind. See if you can sit down with SOCO and come up with an e-fit of any of them.’

  ‘Yeah, will do, boss. I’ll give it some thought.’

  ‘And in the mean time I want you and Grace to do another video interview with Linane. Get her to go through the incident. See if it was involving this Dale, whatever his name is, and if it was, what it was all about and what exactly was the type of hassle Elisabeth was getting from him. And, see if she’s taken any of their photos on her phone, or check out if they’re on Facebook. Failing that, get her to do an e-fit.’ Dawn threw her gaze wider, scrutinising the faces of her team. ‘And, it’s a long shot but I want someone to get onto Leicester Forest Services and see if they’ve still got the CCTV from that day. This just might be what we’ve been waiting for.’

  At his desk, using an elbow as support, Hunter propped his face in one hand. With his free hand he was indexing the pages of Polly’s five-year diary as he pored over her entries. It was a red, faux-leather-backed affair, A5 in size, one week spanning across two pages. The exhibit had arrived shortly after his partner, Grace, had disappeared with Tony Bullars to interview Linane Brazier. Along with the diary had come her address book and two letters. The letters, addressed to Polly, were from him. Seeing them had taken him by surprise. And with them had come happy thoughts. He remembered he had written them when Polly had gone on holiday to Cornwall, with her parents and her best friend Lucy Stringer, in the summer of 1988. Before taking them out of their envelopes he had checked the postmarks. They had been date-stamped, the fourth and eleventh of July – less than two months before she had been found murdered. Having long forgotten their slushy content he had felt himself colouring while perusing them. Especially in the manner he had signed each one off. The first one bore the acronym H.O.L.L.A.N.D. Beside the word was an artistically drawn bleeding heart. And the second letter had been finished with the caption I.T.A.L.Y. He mouthed the words – he still remembered their sentiments – ‘Hope Our Love Lives And Never Dies,’ and ‘I’ll Truly Always Love You.’ He couldn’t help but crack a smile as he’d finished each letter. In both he’d creatively expressed, how much he was missing her and vowed his undying love. Under normal circumstances he would have classed them as drivel, but these were different. These were a part of him, and although the letters were full of naïve prose, he knew that when he had written them, they were the truthful words of a person who had found love for the first time. He had read them through three times before putting them to one side. He knew he would be reading them again in a day or so. Then he had picked up Polly’s diary and instantly become hooked by her almost mirrored response. Where, she had described her similar feelings towards him, he had hung onto every crisp word. The first recorded entry, which had grabbed him, had been written two months before their first official date.

  On Wednesday the 23rd September 1987, she had scribed:-

  Went to netball practice today, just so I could see Hunter at football training.

  That had amused him. He had never known that.

  Then he had found the entry in November that year. The day before their first ‘going out’:

  Hunter walked me home from the youth club. He kissed me on our street. It made me go all jellyfied! Then he asked me to go to the pictures with him tomorrow. I’m in love. The record had instantly triggered the recovery of another buried memory. He remembered that first kiss. Her mouth had been so soft and warm. It had seemed as if it had lasted forever and that evening he had walked home floating on air. When he’d read it, a chuckle had almost burst forth, provoking a feeling of child-like embarrassment. Quickly zipping his mouth, he had instantly explored the room, and been relieved when he had seen that no one had been looking his way.

  He was currently beginning the month of June 1988 and he could feel a strain beginning behind his eyes. He closed them and pinched the bridge of his nose. Just as he was thinking about the possibility of needing glasses he caught the sound of the office doors crack, and snapping open his eyes, he clocked Barry Newstead barging through, while simultaneously wrestling with the sleeve of his overcoat, trying to release an arm. He was chuntering to hi
mself, but loudly.

  Securing the page with his forefinger Hunter sought out Barry’s gaze. ‘You’re just the person I need to talk to.’ He caught a strange look appear on Barry’s face. He turned Polly’s diary over, trapping it face-down to save the page and pushed himself back in his seat.

  Still struggling with his overcoat, Barry glided past him without making eye contact. ‘Oh aye, what have I done now,’ he said gruffly. As he neared his desk he finally extricated himself from his mac, threw it across his paperwork, and kicking out his chair, dumped himself into its upholstery.

  Hunter took another look at Barry. He thought that his expression appeared to be unusually downcast.

  There’s something wrong with him.

  Jettisoning himself out of his chair he made his way across the room to where Barry was seated. The desk opposite, normally occupied by Mike Sampson, was empty. Hunter plonked himself down. ‘What’s up?’

  ‘Nothing’s up.’ Barry still avoided eye contact. He pushed aside his coat and picked up some loose papers.

  Then Hunter remembered that Barry had been to the doctors. Not just that morning, but he recalled he had also had an appointment the previous evening. That’s why he’d not been able to get hold of him. He took a deep breath. ‘You’ve been to the doctors.’

  ‘No secret.’

  ‘I know. Is everything okay?’

  ‘Why shouldn’t it be. Just my annual check-up.’

  ‘Barry, you know Beth’s a nurse. And I know that an annual check-up does not run to two sessions back-to-back. This is your pal talking to you.’