Silent Terror

by Ted Tayler

  “Yes, he worked Tuesday and Thursday every week for several years,” said the ACC.

  “Hillier was the first suspect Kite and Jefferson had in the frame,” said Geoff, “they interviewed him frequently. Ms Wakeley was a stickler for time-keeping. She wouldn’t accept a foot of snow as an excuse for Hillier arriving late, let alone patches of black ice on the roads and pavements. If she gave Don Hillier a list of jobs to complete, she expected them to get done before he finished for the day.”

  “I’m surprised he stayed so long,” said Gus.

  “DCI Jefferson asked why he didn’t pack it in,” said the ACC. “Hillier shrugged his shoulders and said he needed to keep busy. And it was just her way. She was a spinster, and Hillier reckoned they were odd creatures. DI Kite pressed Hillier on the number of times he’d been inside the bungalow. Forensics couldn’t find any trace of him indoors. Kite couldn’t believe Hillier had worked there for up to twelve hours a week for three years and never stepped inside the back door just for a cup of tea. What about using the toilet? Surely, there had to be occasions when nature called?”

  “Hillier said Ursula insisted he brought a flask from home if he needed a drink,” said Geoff. “Hillier cycled to the bungalow, so if he needed the loo, he cycled home. His house was only a ten-minutes ride towards town.”

  “I suppose she insisted he made up the lost time?” said Gus.

  “Exactly,” said Geoff.

  “It surprised Hillier not to find his employer waiting for him, as you can imagine,” said the ACC. “He didn’t want to get in her bad books by loitering, so he fetched a ladder from the garden shed and repaired the guttering at the front of the bungalow. For some reason, Ms Wakeley never closed her curtains day or night. Perhaps when you live in the middle of nowhere, it doesn’t seem important. Anyway, that morning they were part closed in the living room. Hillier climbed the ladder and noticed the door from the kitchen to the rear garden was open. Someone had smashed one of the glass panels.”

  “Why didn’t he go inside?” asked Gus. “I know we never want the crime scene compromised, but most people would have gone into the house through the kitchen and called out her name. At seventy-eight, his employer could have had a fall or got taken ill. My first reaction would be to check Ursula Wakeley didn’t need medical assistance. No wonder the detectives thought Hillier a suspect. Instead of the natural reaction, it was as if he’d assumed the worst had happened.”

  “Well, maybe because Hillier didn’t possess a mobile phone,” said Geoff, “and because Ursula had never invited him in, he thought it best to run to a neighbour for help.”

  “The neighbouring properties belonged to Beryl Giddings, a widow, and Charles Marshall,” said the ACC. “Charles was married to Gwen, and their house was the one Hillier visited. Marshall called Arthur Wakeley, Ursula’s eighty-year-old brother. He drove across from the other side of Mere and let himself into the bungalow.”

  “Did Hillier tell him of the possible break-in at the rear of the property?” asked Gus.

  “Marshall relayed the information Don Hillier gave him when he knocked on the door. Jefferson never questioned why Arthur had a set of keys to his family home. Why should he? Hillier sensed that Arthur was annoyed at getting the call. He left his wife at home, jumped in the car, and didn’t offer Hillier a lift from the Marshalls’ place. Arthur drove straight past and went inside the house before Don walked back along the road. Arthur’s statement said that he looked into the living room and called out his sister’s name. There was no response from the kitchen, so he went straight to the third bedroom.”

  “Ursula didn’t sleep in her parents’ bedroom then?” asked Gus.

  “Arthur said his old room at the rear of the property was untouched since he left home to get married,” said Geoff Mercer. “Ursula occupied the smaller room next to the family bathroom, and their parents, Gideon and Elspeth, slept in the main bedroom at the front. After her mother died in 1996, Ursula moved into the front bedroom. Arthur hadn’t realised. They weren’t close as a family. When Ursula socialised with Arthur and his wife, Glenda, it was always on neutral ground, such as a restaurant or a café.”

  “What did he find in her old bedroom?” asked Gus

  “Nothing,” said the ACC, “it was empty, except for half a dozen cardboard boxes filled with her parents’ old clothes.”

  “So, he discovered the body in the main bedroom?” asked Gus.

  “Ursula lay on the bed. Someone had scattered the drawers from the dressing table on the floor nearby and discarded the empty jewellery boxes.”

  “I remember the crime scene photos,” said Gus. “what did forensics determine?”

  “Someone broke into the bungalow through the kitchen,” said Geoff. “They used stone from a rockery to smash one of four squares of glass in the half-glazed door. There were no fingerprints found at the scene, and the intruder wore gloves. They placed a thick cloth over the broken glass at the bottom of the pane and opened the door without cutting themselves.”

  “Old-style key or a Yale lock?” asked Gus.

  “There was always a key left in the door, according to Arthur. When his parents were alive, they left it unlocked. The only things in the back fields were cows and stinging nettles.”

  “The killer left the cloth at the scene?” asked Gus.

  “Yes, and it came from designer jacketing fabric that retailed at thirty pounds per metre. There was nowhere in Mere that stocked the item.”

  “Interesting,” said Gus. “What was the size of the pane of glass they broke?”

  “Six inches square,” said Geoff.

  “Easier for a smaller hand, but not impossible for the likes of you or I,” said Gus. “Especially if you took the trouble to knock out as much of the glass as possible.”

  “If the burglar entered the back garden from the fields surrounding the properties, they might have thought the place was empty,” said the ACC.

  “That was Jefferson’s take on the murder, wasn’t it?” asked Gus. “He thought Ursula disturbed a burglar looking for valuables, put up a fight, and suddenly, it became a murder.”

  “It made sense because a teenage girl took jewellery items into two second-hand shops in Ringwood at the weekend, looking for a quick sale.” said the ACC.

  “Ringwood is thirty miles away from Mere,” said Gus. “How did they know there was a connection? Did Ursula have an insurance policy with photographs of her valuables? Did Arthur identify pieces he recalled his mother wore, perhaps?”

  “According to Arthur, his mother never wore make-up or jewellery,” said Geoff. “Gideon was a strict Methodist and didn’t hold with what he called vanities.”

  “Arthur’s mother, Elspeth, died in 1996 and Ursula was no longer under her thumb,” said the ACC. “Arthur told Jefferson that Ursula stayed at home with her mother after Gideon dropped dead in a field behind the bungalow. That was way back in 1966. Imagine how tough that thirty years must have been for Ursula. To be trapped in that house with an ageing parent, unable to marry and have children. That could have made her very bitter. One thing she might have done as soon as she was free was to treat herself to a few vanities.”

  “So, nobody could confirm the items offered for sale in Ringwood came from the bungalow?” asked Gus.

  “Fabian Kite took a statement from William Ormrod, the owner of one shop involved,” said Geoff. “He described a bracelet, a necklace, and two cameo rings the girl had placed on the counter. Ormrod reckoned that the value of the four pieces was around two thousand pounds. He assumed the girl did not understand what she had there, so Ormrod offered the girl two hundred and fifty pounds. He counted out five fifty-pound notes on the counter, hoping she’d accept. She grabbed the notes and ran out of the shop. He saw her join a teenage boy wearing a hoodie waiting outside and they disappeared.”

  “Could Ormrod give Fabian Kite a description of the girl?” asked Gus.

  “Would you?” asked Geoff, “if you had conned her out of
at least fifteen hundred quid? Ormrod didn’t want to see her in his shop again. No, his description was vague. A winter coat. Knee-high brown leather boots, a scarf that covered half her face and long dark hair. He couldn’t describe her features, eye colour, any tattoos, or piercings. Kite asked about her hands. Did she wear rings, what was the state of her fingernails, anything that might help identify her? Ormrod told him she wore gloves.”

  “Was there anyone else to ask whether those items belonged to Ursula Wakeley?” asked Gus.

  “The staff at the library where she worked,” said Geoff. “Ursula went there straight from school and stayed until her father died. Then she looked after her mother until 1996, as you heard. She resumed her old job, and according to Monica Butterworth, who has worked there for twenty-odd years, it was rare for Ursula to wear make-up or jewellery. Although she thought she remembered seeing Ursula with a cameo ring, it was inconclusive.”

  “I can’t believe Jefferson didn’t follow up on the nature of the break-in,” said Gus.

  “What do you mean?” asked the ACC.

  “Well, what’s the usual reason for someone breaking into a house? They want cash or something they can flog for cash with no questions asked. What will they do with the money? It’s not going towards their next ski-trip, is it? It’s heading for the pocket of their nearest drug dealer or putting food on the table. Was anything else stolen? Did the burglar search for Ursula’s handbag, purse, or credit cards? Forget what they did to the body for a moment. Did they rummage around in the other bedrooms to see whether there was any cash hidden under a mattress? I don’t buy that the only items they took away from the house were a handful of items from a dressing-table drawer.”

  Geoff Mercer was flicking through page after page of the murder file.

  “Nothing else got taken, Gus,” he said. “Ursula’s handbag containing her purse, credit cards and keys lay on the floor by her chair. The purse held just over forty pounds in cash. Arthur confirmed that the only bedroom that looked as if anyone had been inside in years was where he found Ursula’s body.”

  “What else do these burglars look for?” asked Gus.

  “A mobile phone, tablet, or laptop,” said the ACC, “anything portable.”

  “Ursula didn’t possess any of those,” said Geoff.

  “They didn’t look very hard for the cash, did they?” said Gus. “Why travel to Ringwood to sell the jewellery? Surely, there were loads of buyers within five miles of Mere. There’s something else too; time is of the essence in most break-ins. Most burglars want to get inside quickly. The burglar took longer than usual because of the precautions they took. They were eager not to leave any fingerprints or blood, hence bringing the thick piece of cloth along. I wonder why Ursula didn’t hear the commotion.”

  “Beryl Giddings stated,” said Geoff, “that Ursula’s TV was loud enough that she could hear it when she walked her dog past the bungalow in the evenings. That was until eighteen months before the murder. Beryl told Mel Jefferson that her Border Collie had died and she never ventured out after dark.”

  “Did anyone at the library mention that Ursula was hard of hearing?” asked Gus.

  “There’s nothing in any of the statements, Gus,” said Geoff. “Arthur and Glenda hadn’t noticed. Don Hillier said if he stopped work for five minutes on a scorching afternoon, Ursula soon tapped on the window. He didn’t think there was much wrong with her hearing, or her eyesight.”

  “What did the other shop owner tell Kite?” asked Gus.

  “He didn’t see the young man,” said Geoff, “it was just the girl who came into the shop. He asked her who the items belonged to and why she wanted to sell them.”

  “Did he do that or was that what he thought Kite wanted to hear?” asked Gus.

  “The girl got twitchy when questioned on the jewellery. The shop owner decided he didn’t want to risk handling stolen goods. Kite made a note that the shop owner thought she wasn’t interested in the money; she just wanted to be rid of the jewellery.”

  “We keep coming back to the lack of confirmation that the two events are connected,” said Gus. “Take that girl in Ringwood. It’s possible a teenage girl smashed the window and opened the door, but do we believe she could be responsible for the murder?”

  “Maybe there was an accomplice?” said Geoff.

  “The hooded teenage male William Ormrod saw outside his shop,” said the ACC.

  “Time of death was said to be ten o’clock,” said Gus. “Take me through the sequence, Geoff. Let’s see if that makes more sense with the two people involved.”

  “The victim got struck from behind with a blunt object. Forensics found a clock garniture on the sideboard against the wall between the living room and the kitchen. The clock was flanked on either side by brass models of a shire horse set on an onyx base. Although the base of the nearest horse to the kitchen door had been wiped clean, they identified Ursula’s DNA.”

  “So, the burglar whacked Ursula over the head with the first available heavy object,” said the ACC.

  “When you consider the planning that went into the break-in, it surprises me they didn’t carry a weapon,” said Gus.

  “A single knife wound to the heart killed Ursula,” said Geoff, reading from the file. “Blood loss would have been substantial. There was minimal blood spatter on the living room carpet.”

  “They moved Ursula from the living room to the bedroom while she was unconscious, or still stunned from the initial blow,” said the ACC. “Does that help us confirm that there were two attackers?”

  “Ursula wasn’t a big woman,” said Geoff, “a healthy teenage boy or girl could drag her through to the bedroom alone.”

  “Was there a sexual motive to the break-in?” asked Gus.

  “None,” said Geoff. “Ursula was stripped naked and placed on the bed in a seated position. The fatal blow occurred somewhen between ten and midnight.”

  “Were they able to say whether Ursula regained consciousness?” asked Gus.

  “The blow to the back of the head wouldn’t have been enough to kill her. She was aware of what was going on within several minutes.”

  “What are we dealing with here?” asked Gus. “The autopsy indicated that everything else we can see on the crime scene photos happened post mortem. The killer waited for Ursula Wakeley to regain consciousness before stabbing her. What does that suggest? They wanted her to know why she was about to die. What could a strait-laced, lonely spinster have possibly done to deserve such a fate? Where did they find the murder weapon?”

  “In the kitchen drawer,” said Geoff. “They had wiped it clean, the same as the garniture item, and put it back where they found it.”

  “Why didn’t they leave as soon as they’d done the deed?” asked Gus. “Why did her killer continue to slash and mutilate Ursula’s body for several hours? Only an animal does that.”

  “This wasn’t about the break-in, was it?” said Geoff Mercer.

  “Look, give me the murder file, and we’ll get stuck into it on Monday. I don’t want to jump to conclusions. I haven’t seen everything Mel Jefferson and Fabian Kite saw surrounding this case. They marked it as a burglary that went wrong. The jewellery in Ringwood fitted that scenario. Several times on the Grant Burnside case things popped up that I hadn’t expected. When you rush to judgement, you can end up with egg on your face. We’ll check that we’ve got every piece of the jigsaw before we put them together. I want to understand Ursula Wakeley better. Why was she a target? What made her stand out from the other single women in the area who lived alone?”

  “You must work with fewer pieces than were available to Jefferson and Kite,” said the ACC.

  “At the time of the murder, her three neighbours were in their early eighties,” said Geoff. “Beryl Giddings died in 2016. Charles Marshall is in a care home these days, as is his wife, Gwen. They’re in separate homes because of the different amount of nursing they require. It’s unlikely Charles could remember the statement he gave f
ive years ago. Don Hillier and Monica Butterworth are the remaining reliable witnesses from Mere. Both shop owners are still trading if you wish to speak with them.”

  “Can we talk to Mel Jefferson and Fabian Kite?” asked Gus.

  “Mel retired to South Africa last year,” said Geoff.

  “Oh yes, I remember his son worked for a bank in Jo’burg,” said Gus.

  “Fabian Kite left the force in 2016. Whereabouts unknown.”

  “We think he went into private security on mainland Europe,” said the ACC. “If he wants to stay hidden, we might have trouble finding him. He was disillusioned with the job when he left. Fabian might stick two fingers at us if we ask him to co-operate with you on an old case.”

  “We’ll see how far we get on our own,” said Gus. “No need to panic just yet.”

  CHAPTER 4

  Gus left Kenneth Truelove and Geoff Mercer to their coffee and cake. He was already later than he had planned. The Ursula Wakeley murder file tucked under his arm, promised to prove challenging. Too many people involved in 2013 had either died or could not answer questions the case posed.

  What was it Neil Davis said at times like this? Nobody said it was going to be easy, guv. That summed it up. As he took the stairs to the ground floor, he wondered how his colleague was getting on. With Alex Hardy off the case, until he ended his search for the red-headed mystery man, Gus would need to have Neil firing on four cylinders.

  As he signed out at Reception, Vera Butler came through the front door.

  “Have fun tonight,” she said.

  “You know how much I enjoy Bert Penman’s company,” said Gus. “I feel duty-bound to help him entertain his daughter and grandson.”

  “Margaret’s the grandson’s aunt, isn’t she?” asked Vera, “David was Brett’s father. It’s a long time since I saw either of Bert’s children over here. I remember them at school, of course, they were several years ahead of me, but I knew them by sight.”

  “That’s right. Brett’s in his mid-thirties, and you might see him around town soon. He plans to move back to the UK now his family is gone. Bert will have a lodger for a while; once Brett settles his affairs in Canada.”