by Jay Nadal
He stared at his drawings, his eyes flicking from point to point, the cogs of his brain regurgitating the information. The pictures of the crime scenes flashing in his awareness, like he was watching a series of stills on a movie screen. The post mortem visits, Cara’s input, the events and sequences as they happened over the past two weeks…all being processed and reviewed in a matter of seconds.
If Scott could have been linked up to an EEG machine, his brain activity would have sent the indicator off the scale.
The deep thought he was in was broken as he was rudely brought back to now with Mike hammering on the door…Scott waved him in.
“This bloody better be good, sunshine,” Scott said.
“It is, Guv. We’ve had three sightings of a person that eyewitness’s say looks very close to the E-fit”
“Where?”
Shoreham.”
This was more than a coincidence. “Get me the details, Mike, quickly.”
“Guv?” Mike looked quizzically at his boss.
“I’ll explain shortly, just do it,” he snapped.
Scott spun around and started searching in Google; he needed to look into the background of Stephen Wentworth and his parents. Still very little was known about that family, if you could call it a family, Scott thought. Knowing how many children were brought into the world by dysfunctional families or as accidents after one too many drunken flings, saddened him to the core.
The gift of life had always been precious in his eyes; having lost a child, it tugged on his heart strings even more. He’d lost count of the number of times he’d seen a young child playing or walking with their mum, and been filled with a pain deep inside that only a parent who’d lost a child could relate to.
He blinked hard to clear his eyes of the moisture that were beginning to consume them, blurring his view of the screen. There would be other times when he could sit and be alone with the grief that followed him like a dark shadow or figure from the other side. For now he needed to focus and prove his suspicions right.
When he had found the right website, the first thing he put in was Jackie Taylor, 1st August.
Chapter 25
The reports of the same person being sighted in Shoreham were cause enough for Scott to send Mike and Abby to investigate them further. If the sightings were confirmed then it would warrant Scott asking DI Harvey to plow more resources into the area and do more detailed house to house enquiries.
Scott was furiously scanning multiple records, lines of entry and columns. Jackie Taylor was a popular name, which didn’t surprise Scott, but neither did it please him. It made it harder to narrow down his search.
The records did pull up entries for both deaths and births. He was leaning closer into the screen, the information in front of him powerful enough to suck him in like a vortex. His mind was a mixture of confusion and clarity, finding it hard to compute the evidence being thrown back at him.
His heart beat quickened; his breath became short and rapid, the hairs on the back of his neck standing up. His hands were becoming clammy as his left hand stuck to the paper pad he was resting it on, his right and squealing across the desk as he moved the mouse around quickly, moving from one screen to another.
Raj burst through the door not pausing to knock and certainly not learning from his recent chastising. Luckily for him, Scott was swept away with the evidence in front of him. Raj’s information would only add more fuel to the fire as he was about to find out.
Scott reluctantly pulled his attention away from the screen to look over the top at Raj who was trying to compose himself, which looked comical to say the least as he stood there, a notepad in one hand and half eaten bakewell tart slice in the other. As all the officers had become accustomed to, where there was Raj, there would be food.
With one eye still glued to his monitor and the other on Raj, he cycled his left hand in the air to get Raj to spit it out.
“Guv, I’ve just had a call from a B&B owner in Shoreham, it’s the White Lawns B&B in Buckingham Road. He’s pretty certain that a guest staying there has an uncanny resemblance to our man going by how he described him.
He said he’s hardly seen the chap, he’s in his room all day, and goes out at night. He can hear the door opening at all hours of the early morning. And he’s been told to not clean the room or enter.” Raj added.
Scott wasn’t sure if it was the eyewitness account that rocked him the most or what he’d read out of the corner of his eye at the same time. At that precise moment, he knew the case had reached a tipping point. He was already up and reaching for his jacket as he barked at Raj, “Get Abby and Mike over there now, tell them to meet us there, but under no circumstances go in until we arrive. Tell them to park up and watch the place, get some uniform on standby further up the road.”
“What, me too, Guv?” Raj said in surprise, caught off guard by Scott’s sudden frenetic reaction, having felt he’d missed some of the meaty stuff so far.
“Yes, you plank, unless you want to stay and man the phones? Sian, you too.” Scott’s voice echoed around the office as he headed out of the door and flew down the steps taking them two at a time.
Raj didn’t need asking twice, he stuffed the remnants of the tart in his mouth, grabbed his jacket on the way out and was already on his radio passing on the instructions. Sian left the research she was doing and bolted for the door too, grabbing her handbag and radio in one deft swipe.
***
The White Lawns B&B was situated on a quiet, tree-lined street in Shoreham. On first impressions, the houses had large detached frontages, with the occasional semidetached des res dotted in-between them.
The address they were interested in belonged to a period property. From the outside it was apparent that at one time it had been a semi-detached house. In more recent times, it had been merged with its adjoining twin. It now presented as a larger detached property that better suited its change of use from a domestic dwelling to a small commercial bed and breakfast offering.
Mike and Abby had parked about fifty yards up the road, and had reported no movement or sightings. Scott requested that they remained there for the time being.
“Raj, considering you’ve spoken to the owner, go in and ask him to confirm that one of his guests matches the E-fit.”
Moments later, Raj appeared from the front door and gave a thumbs up. Scott told Mike to watch the front, whilst Abby was to monitor the rear of the property just in case they had a runner.
Their approach to the property was anything but quiet, if Scott was hoping to slip in without being heard or noticed, then he was sorely disappointed. Each step they took crunching into the gravel frontage heralded their arrival. The property had a sweeping entrance and exit to allow guests to drive in, unload in safety before parking to the side of the property, where there was guest parking for up to four cars.
Scott was met by Raj and the proprietor of the establishment. The man was of average height and build, mousey brown hair, combed and parted on the left, and wearing a plain light blue shirt and cream chinos. If Scott had to describe a non-descript person, this man would be it.
Scott produced his warrant card. “I’m Detective Inspector Baker, I understand you have a guest here who closely matches the description of a person we’re interested in talking to?”
The man nodded nervously. “Yes, I’m Barry Burgess.” Unsure what else to say, he began to extend his hand towards Scott, then stopped. “Will this take long?” he enquired hesitantly. His whole demeanour had a jittery intensity, his shoulders were hunched, his hands wringing, his feet shuffling on the spot.
He had the type of character that if you shouted ‘boo’ to, he’d jump out of his skin. “Having the police turn up isn’t great for PR, if you know what I mean,” he mumbled, as he glanced over Scott’s shoulder into the street, obviously concerned about the curtain twitchers.
What the neighbours thought was neither here or there as far as Scott was concerned. “Mr Burgess, let me remind you th
at I’m investigating a triple murder case here. I don’t particularly care what your neighbours think. If you’d prefer, I’ll happily leave this suspect in your capable hands and you can deal with him.” His eyes were fixed on the owner making sure he knew in no uncertain terms the severity of the situation that as the owner, he found himself in.
Burgess, shocked and frightened at the prospect of having a suspect in a murder enquiry in one of his rooms hesitated, “I…I….of course want to help in any way I can.”
Before he had an opportunity to say anything else, Scott asked, “Is he in?”
“No, surprisingly he isn’t, normally he is. My wife hasn’t been able to access his room in two weeks. He’s left a do not disturb sign on his door, and told us in no uncertain terms to stay out, which frankly scared the shit out of my wife and I…” he paused before continuing. “He has one of those haunted faces; you can’t tell what he’s thinking when you look at him. There’s no expression, just a blank face.”
“Can you let us into the room now please?”
Burgess led them upstairs. Room 3 was the first room they came to on the left hand side of a corridor. He slid a master card into the electronic key slot and a small green light lit up to confirm entry.
“Mr Burgess, please wait here and do not enter under any circumstances.”
He nodded several times, shifting from one foot to another trying to glance into the room as the officers entered. The door closed behind them, the corridor once again silent.
“What the fuck is that smell?” Raj said as he held his hand over his mouth. ”It stinks like the men’s bogs at work.”
Their attention was drawn towards the likely cause. A pile of black clothing in one corner of the room.
The bedroom itself was like every other B&B bedroom found the length and breadth of the country. The room was largely filled by a double bed with an unfashionable pink floral duvet cover that partially hung off the edge of the unmade bed. A winged brown armchair sat in another corner that had seen better days, and a TV and tea-making facilities on the chest of drawers by the window.
The whole room looked untidy. The musty smell suggested that the room hadn’t been ventilated in many weeks.
In Scott’s eyes the evidence he saw around him confirmed that they’d found the final bits of the jigsaw.
Scattered around the floor were old press articles about the death of Stephen Wentworh. Looking up, Scott could see a large street map of Brighton pinned to the wall. Whilst Raj checked out the en-suite bathroom, Scott moved in closer to look at the map whilst Sian began looking through the chest of drawers. Scott could clearly see the Urban and Phoenix nightclubs locations circled, together with the residential addresses of all three victims.
“Guv, there’s a towel with what looks like blood stains on it,” Raj pointed over his shoulder as he appeared back in the bedroom.
“Any sign of a knife?” Scott asked looking around the room.
Raj shook his head, Sian confirming its absence too, but pointed to the presence of a black hoodie neatly folded in the top drawer. “Our suspect’s hoodie, Guv?” she suggested.
Scott pursed his lips in frustration as his eyes continued to scan the room.
The silence was quickly broken as Scott’s radio crackled with static and burst into life. “Guv, uniformed just spotted someone matching the description a street away. He saw the patrol car and legged it. Uniform are on foot now chasing him, and we’re behind them,” the urgency in Mike’s voice apparent by his rapid commentary.
Raj stood opened-mouth listening to the radio interaction.
“It’s our man,” shouted Scott as he ran for the door, almost knocking Burgess over in the commotion, the others a few steps behind him. Taking a few steps at time, Scott was running to the car as he shouted at Raj to drive.
As they made their way closer to the pursuit, Scott radioed for backup. “DI Baker, we’re in pursuit of a suspect, he’s potentially armed and dangerous, request an ARV to make its way to the area.”
The realisation hit Scott when he was informed that the nearest firearms officers were six minutes away. It would all be over before they got there.
Chapter 26
The target was cornered off by the time Scott and the team arrived. He was keeping officers at bay as he waved his knife at them, threatening to cut anyone who came near him. The area had been contained as the wail of sirens tore the air, support converging on the cemetery in Mill Lane from all directions. Mike was puffing furiously as he clung onto the gates trying to catch his breath. Abby was coordinating the uniformed officers to ensure containment.
“Where is he?” Scott asked as he peered down the long driveway that lead from the road into the burial grounds.
“He ran over to the right behind the fencing, he’s not come out so he must still be there,” Mike huffed, trying his hardest to catch his breath, sweat beading off his forehead, his shirt clinging to his chest damp from his exertions.
Scott took off his suit jacket and threw it into the boot of his car before putting on his white stab vest.
“Guv?” Mike and Sian looking at him alarmed, unsure what their boss was doing.
He ignored them and started walking down the drive towards the last known sighting of the suspect.
“Guv, what the fuck are you doing?” Mike shouted. “Armed response will be here shortly, a helicopter is ten minutes away, and so is the DCI, she’ll fucking kill you if you head in there unprotected.”
“In ten minutes he could be over the wall at the back and gone,” Scott shouted over his shoulder, ignoring the warning. In reality he knew he’d face a disciplinary whether it went well or not. But he needed a peaceful resolution right now, not in a few hours after police mediators had created a tense standoff, or worse, he’s shot by armed officers.
In truth, Scott needed this resolved his way. The case had played on his mind since day one. He was damned if it was going to be taken out of his hands and resolved with a bullet, or worse still, the suspect taking his own life, leaving Scott still needing answers.
He walked slowly, the air around him silent. No matter how busy the city streets were around the cemetery, it always had an atmosphere of its own. Peace and tranquility transcended the lives of the living, offering those who had left the world a deserved level of respect.
Over to his right, he could hear the faint sob of what he thought was a child. As Scott peered around the corner of the fence, he was surprised to see the figure of man huddled on the ground, his arms protectively wrapped around his bent legs, his head buried in his knees.
The suspect on hearing the slow footsteps approaching him stiffened and thrust out his knife is defence without saying a word, his teeth snarling, his breath laboured.
Scott could hear more sirens congregating close by which only alarmed the suspect even more. To reassure him, Scott held his hands out in front of him. “I’m not here to hurt you; I just want to make sure you’re alright.”
The suspect’s eyes were wide, consumed with fear, his hair matted wet from grease and sweat, his black clothes crumpled and dirty.
Finally he spoke in a soft broken voice, “He’s gone…he’s gone,” tears escaping from the corners of his eyes.
“It’s Nathan isn’t it?” Scott asked gently, “Nathan Taylor.”
The man looked up abruptly, but still remained silent.
“I know…I know what’s happened Nathan, I know about Stephen and your mum, I’m sorry, but they wouldn’t have wanted this for you.”
“How the fucking hell would you know what they wanted?” Nathan screamed. “He was my brother, he was my only family” His voice incoherent at times as spittle erupted from his mouth, mixing with the salty tears that rolled off his chin.
All the time he was talking, Scott was flicking between maintaining eye contact and evaluating how tight a grip Nathan had of the large survival knife that was being waved around nonchalantly. Even though the knife had been talked about many times during
the last two weeks, Scott was taken aback by its size; It’s fucking huge, he thought, almost the length of my forearm. He was in no doubt now as to why it had been chosen to kill the three men.
“Why did you do this, Nathan? Why put yourself through this?”
“They killed him, they all did, they didn’t care about him, they were greedy for money…his money…” his voice trailed off. “They poisoned him and hurt him,” he spewed as he cradled his head in his hands, his shoulders shaking as great sobs racked his body.
Scott crouched down to appear less confrontational. What struck Scott was how this man’s persona could switch in milliseconds from that of a grown man, to that of a young child consumed with grief as they would be if they’d lost their favourite toy. His whole body pulled in tight, his arms wrapped around protectively. An empty expression on his face, which no amount of consolation would make better unless a new replacement toy was found immediately.
Silence prevailed for a few moments, before Nathan sobbed, “It wasn’t meant to be like this, I thought getting rid of those nasty men would bring Stephen back,” his eyes rising to meet with Scott’s. “I was getting them back for Stephen.”
Scott could see the emptiness and desolation in the man’s face, and yet there was nothing he could say that could make Nathan feel better. He’d lost a brother, a loved one, just in the way that he as a father had lost a child so young and precious. Nothing could replace the darkness that accompanied grief. For a brief moment he felt empathy for the killer, but there was no denying that he was a killer and as an officer, he had to uphold the law irrespective of the story, and bring the perpetrator to justice.
