The Devil Came to Abbeville

by Marian Phair

  “Not so much if he was wearing chain mail gloves when handling the body,” Pete Morgan stated. “Sorry, I thought you’d finished,” he said, as Scott discarded the bottle.

  “Almost, officer. All I was going to add, was, that you are looking for one killer for these three murders, and none committed by our vigilante,” Scott informed them.

  “Three murders, Scott?” Jake said. “Don’t you mean two?”

  “You’re forgetting the unborn child,” Scott reminded him.

  The DCI called a break telling the officer’s he wanted them back for a further briefing in ten minutes. As the men filed out of the room, Jake took officer’s, Pete Morgan and Tom Holmes aside.

  “Okay, enlighten me. What did you find out this morning that took you off to Creswell’s Meat Packers?” Jake asked. Pete Morgan filled him in on the morning events, and the DCI listened intently to what he had to say, and then told them to get some refreshment, and report back in ten minutes.

  Within fifteen minutes all the officer’s were back in the briefing room. Once everyone was settled, Jake Fletcher cleared his throat and commenced.

  “Right men, listen up, this is what we know so far about Roger Green. We know he lied about knowing Evelyn Bradley, thanks to PC Holmes there.” He nodded his head in Tom’s direction.

  “When officer’s, Morgan and Holmes paid Roger Green a visit, they noticed he had a deep cut on the back of his right hand, which he claimed happened in an accident at home. We know Evelyn’s killer cut himself at the scene, because he left evidence of that in her bathroom.” He looked to Scott for an answer as he asked.

  “Do we know if our killer was right or left handed?”

  “It’s not confirmed, but in his report the M.E seemed to think that from the angle of the cuts made on her body, her killer was likely to be left-handed.” Scott replied.

  “Roger Green is left handed,” Tom Holmes told them.

  “Do we know that for a fact, Tom?” Jake asked him.

  “Well, chief, he wears his wrist watch on his right arm. That and the fact that he has a cut on the back of his right hand, leads me to assume he’s left handed,” Tom said.

  “Well, for now, let’s just stick to the facts,” Jake said. “We now know he is skilled with knives, and he used a Captive Gun as part of his job in the slaughter house section. I’ll let Tom fill you in on what happened at Roger Green’s.”

  Tom removed his notebook from his breast pocket, and stood up.

  “When we arrived, I told Roger Green that we were obtaining DNA samples from all males in the area, and this was the reason for our visit. He was also informed that Evelyn Bradley was pregnant at the time of her murder. Then when Officer Morgan told Roger Green that we knew Evelyn had a secret lover, he replied.” The young officer looking slightly embarrassed said, “Excuse me while I refer to my notes, so I can give you his exact words.”

  Jake Fletcher, sat tapping his fingers, loudly, on his wooden desk, impatiently waiting for him to finish his report. Sensing his boss was losing his patience, Tom swiftly flicked through the pages of his notebook, until he found the entry.

  He replied, “Why, because Lucas was infertile, and his missus took a lover. That’s got nothing to do with me,” Tom quoted from his notes.

  “At first he didn’t want to provide a sample, but when pressured by his wife, he agreed to come into the station later today.”

  Scott spoke up. “So Roger Green knew that Lucas was infertile, and he knew he was already dead, otherwise he wouldn’t have spoken in the past tense. He knew this because he’d killed him. None of this was leaked to the media. Looks like you have found your killer, detective,” he said to Jake.

  The DCI looked around the room scanning the faces of the men in his team, planning his strategy as he did so, and decided to place each man back with his original partner.

  “Everything points to Roger Green being our killer in this case, but we have to find the evidence that proves beyond a doubt that he did it. Evidence that will stand up in a court of law, and put him away for life. Let’s bring him in for questioning, and I’ll see about getting a search warrant for his home. We’ll start by getting a sample of his DNA, and see if it matches the blood drops found at the scene in the Bradley’s home, and those bloody footprints. If we can find the murder weapon or chain mail gloves with their DNA on it, we’ve got him for both murders. Let’s go catch ourselves a killer. Good work men.”

  With a scraping of chairs, the officer’s rose to their feet. Their chief spoke again. “Before I give you your instructions and dismiss you, I want to share some good news with you, for a change. It concerns Case file114 Albert Brooks. It has been proved beyond a doubt that Albert Brooks, and the John Doe found in the ditch, were one and the same person, and the White Rose killer is responsible for his death.”

  Jake went over to Scott Holmes and shook his hand warmly.

  “You hit it bang on the nail, my friend, right from the start.”

  “So what tied it all together finally?” Scott asked him.

  “Bob Hill came across an old photo of himself and Albert Brooks, taken years ago on a beach, and he gave it to Officer Colin Harris, who was conducting that particular inquiry. In the photo, the two friends, wearing bathing trunks, are standing with their arms across each other’s shoulders. You can clearly see the distinctive tattoos on Albert’s forearms and chest. They are an exact match with the John Doe’s. Now if we can only have the same luck, and catch ourselves this ‘White Rose’ killer, and stop his killing spree once and for all, we can all sleep safe and sound in our beds again.

  Okay, you know what you have to do, so let’s get on with the job. Dismissed.”

  The Duty Officer, for the day, Jim Clarke, came over to where his boss stood talking to Scott Holden. “I hope I’m not interrupting anything important chief, but I thought you’d like to know, there’s no need to bring Roger Green in for questioning. He’s just walked in the door.”

  “The hell you say!” Scott interjected.

  “Has he indeed, thanks Jim, I’ll handle this.” Jake turned to Scott as Jim Clarke left.

  “Well, Scott, do you want in on this one, I think you’ve earned the right?”

  “How could I pass up a chance to see how the British police go about conducting an interview,” he said. “I hear y’all aren’t allowed to kick ass the way we do across the pond” His handsome face split into a grin, and he rubbed his hands together in anticipation as he spoke.

  “Is that so?” Jake said, striding towards the door. “I don’t know where you got that information from. You just follow me, and I’ll show you how this particular detective gets his info, you could be in for a surprise. I don’t take any prisoners.”

  “So where do you hide the bodies, Fletch? Where do you bury them?” Scott laughed, as he followed the DCI from the room. Jake Fletcher glanced back over his shoulder.

  “I don’t bury ‘em. I stuff ‘em up a Great Dane’s arse, and then I shoot the dog!”

  “Now that’s an original way to hide a body.” Scott laughed even louder.

  “You’re joking of course.”

  “Of course I’m joking, I’m an animal lover, and that would be cruelty to a Great Dane.”

  Roger Green was leaning nonchalantly against Jim Clarke’s desk when the two men entered. He moved away and strolled over to the DCI and his companion, an insolent look on his face. As he approached, it was obvious to both men that Roger Green had been drinking. He held a hand out to DCI Fletcher, which Jake ignored. Dropping his hand back to his side, Roger Green spoke, his breath reeking of whisky.

  “Hello, detective, I guess you need more help to investigate these murders we’ve had recently. People are saying this ‘White Rose’ killer is too clever to be caught, he’s like some kind of phantom.”

  “Is that what they’re saying?” Jake said his voice barely above a whisper. “What do you think Roger? Do you think Abbeville police officer’s are incapable of catching these ki
llers?”

  “Killer,” Roger Green said, “The White Rose Killer.”

  A door on the other side of the room had a plaque with ‘Interview Room,’ on it.

  Jake Fletcher moved across to the door and held it open, inviting the suspect to join him. As Roger Green entered the room, Jake turned to Scott and told him to wait for him in the adjacent room. Scott had already suspected, quite rightly, that this room contained a two-way mirror. Tom was already in the room, listening to the conversation going on in the next room. He flashed the profiler a quick smile, before turning his attention back on the mirror, and the room on the other side; bare except for the two-way mirror, a long wooden table, two wooden chairs and one uncomfortable looking metal chair, in which Roger Green was seated.

  The two men in the next room, listened as Jake engaged Roger in polite conversation. The DCI sympathized with Roger, letting him know that he understood the difficulties in caring for an invalid person twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week, month in and out, year after year.

  “What is the chief up to, when will he ask him about the murders?” Tom asked.

  “He’s deploying deceptive tactics,” Scott told him.

  “These rooms are designed to maximise a suspect’s discomfort, Tom, and give the suspect a sense of powerlessness from the moment they step inside. The metal chair furthers this discomfort, and the mirror increases the suspect’s anxiety, and allows us to watch the process.”

  “Yes, I know how the mirror works. If we were to switch the light on in here, he could see us, as well,” Tom told him.

  “Yep, bright light their side, dark on ours.” Scott said. “So what are you questioning exactly?”

  “Well, the method the chief is using for one. There should be a second detective in the room with them, and everything needs to be recorded,” Tom replied.

  “Your boss is trying to develop a rapport with Roger Green; he’s using conversation to create a non-threatening atmosphere. People tend to trust people who they think are like them. He will be observing Roger Green’s reactions, and his body language.

  This will give him a base line before the real stress begins. Did you notice how Rogers eyes just shifted to the right? That’s a sign he’s remembering something. Now he’s looking up, and now to the left. Different parts of the brain are at work here, and your boss will be making a mental note of this, both verbal and non verbal.”

  “I think things are about to get serious, the chief just asked Dick Frankton to come in.” Tom couldn’t keep the excitement out of his voice.

  “This is where the baseline comes into play, and your Roger Green will find he’s unable to help himself. He will speak the truth eventually, and when he does start spilling the beans, you’ll have a devil of a job to shut him up.” Scott grinned.

  In the interview room, Jake Fletcher leant back in his chair as the sergeant placed a tape recorder on the table, and then sat down behind it, in the only other chair in the room.

  “Roger, this is Sergeant Dick Frankton. He’ll sit here quietly while we talk. Would you mind answering a few questions for me?”

  “No, that’s why I’m here,” Roger said, looking suspiciously across the table at the sergeant. “Do I need a solicitor?”

  “Why, do you think you need a solicitor Roger? You’re not under arrest for anything, you came here of your own free will, and you’re free to leave whenever you wish.

  I was hoping you’d clear up a few things for me, but if you don’t wish to cooperate,

  I can’t force you to.” Jake got to his feet and walked over to the mirror and stood gazing into it, both men on the other side of the glass could see he was struggling to control his temper. Brown eyes blazed like hell fire, in his broad freckled face.

  With his back towards Roger he studied his own reflection in the mirror.

  “Do you know how chloroform works Roger?” Jake sprung the surprise question.

  Roger Green suddenly appeared nervous and distracted, as if he was hiding something.

  “No, I don’t know, why are you asking me about chloroform?”

  “It works by depressing the central nervous system,” Jake informed him.

  “And why are you telling me this?” Roger looked decidedly uncomfortable.

  “Just saying, that’s all.” Jake turned away from the mirror and going back to his chair, he moved it closer to Roger.

  “Would you like a cup of tea, Roger?” Jake asked politely.

  “No, I don’t want anything. Can we get this over with. I need to get back to my wife.”

  “Ah yes, I was forgetting your wife,” Jake said, as he removed his cigarettes from his pocket. He lit one up, and then proffered the packet to Roger Green.

  “Would you care for a smoke, Roger?” He asked, as he puffed on his cigarette.

  “I don’t smoke. I had to give them up. My wife has Asthma and objected to the smell of stale nicotine on my clothes. It upset her chest, and made her feel nauseous.”

  “Yes, your wife, Claire. She told our officer’s that you don’t go out at night, Roger, but we both know that’s a lie. Is your wife trying to hide something from us?”

  “Hide something? I don’t know what you mean.” Roger looked over at the mirror, then back at the officer’s. “I know what that is, who’s behind there looking at me?”

  Ignoring his question, Jake proceeded. He knew he would have to question Roger Green under caution, and was determined to push things as far as he could first.

  Roger Green was looking decidedly more and more uncomfortable as the minutes passed. He was fidgety, and nervous, shifting his position every few minutes on the hard metal chair. Jake decided now was the time to reel Roger Green in.

  “Suppose I was to tell you, Roger, that we know you were Evelyn Bradley’s lover, and the father of her unborn child. What would your wife make of that I wonder?”

  “That’s a damn lie, and you can’t prove anything. I’m out of here, and if you want to ask me anymore questions, or want a DNA sample, I want a solicitor present first!”

  Roger leapt from his seat and headed for the door, but he wasn’t quick enough to get out of the way as Jake’s foot suddenly shot out, tripping him up. He fell to the floor with a crash, smashing his face on the hard surface, bloodying his nose.

  “Oh my goodness, this poor gentleman has had an accident, help me get him up Sergeant,” Jake said to Dick Frankton. As the two men helped Roger Green to his feet, Jake produced a handkerchief and held it to Roger’s nose, and keeping a firm grip on him, led him back to his chair.

  “You really need to look where you’re going Roger.” Jake told him.

  “You’ve got a nasty bump on your forehead, and we’ll have to stop that nose bleed,” he said sympathetically. Jake turned to Dick Frankton who was standing near by.

  “Sergeant, get Mr Green a wet cloth for his forehead, and something to drink.” He took the bloody handkerchief from Roger’s nose, ordered him to tilt his head back, and breathe through his mouth. Slightly concussed from his heavy fall, Roger Green obeyed him. He tilted his head back and sat quietly, with his face turned towards the ceiling, and his eye’s closed.

  “Oh, and Sergeant, get rid of this.” Jake handed him the handkerchief. They now had their DNA sample, and Jake intended keeping Roger in the room, while it was tested, against the evidence found at the murder scenes. The sergeant returned with a box of tissues and an icepack, which he gave to Roger Green. Roger, plugging his nostrils with the tissue paper, and breathing heavily through his mouth, held the icepack to his throbbing head. “I need a doctor,” he told them.

  Behind the mirror, Scott grinned at Tom, who just gaped at him.

  “Pretty neat huh? He’s some quick-thinking devious dude, your boss,” he said, his voice full of admiration. They watched as the Jake went over to the table and opened up a folder containing photographs of both victims, and laid them out on the table facing towards Roger Green.

  “I want to show you something, R
oger, take a look at these.” He shoved a photgraph of Evelyn Bradley’s butchered body towards Roger Green, who lowered his head, and visibly paled at the bloody scene. Jake then removed a small plastic bag.

  “What if I was to tell you that the thread in this bag came from one of your coats.

  It was found at the crime scene, and it as Evelyn Bradley’s blood on it?”

  Roger remained silent, but it was easy to see he was extremely agitated; his eyes looked at everything, except the table.

  The door opened and an officer walked in and whispered something in Jake’s ear. Jake nodded his head and the officer sat down in front of the tape recorder, and switched it on. Glancing at his wrist watch he spoke into the machine, giving the time and the date, followed by the names of the people in the room.

  “Interviewing Roger Green, DCI Jake Fletcher is conducting the interview,” he said into the microphone. Jake went through the evidence piece by piece, with Roger Green refusing to answer questions.

  “We have evidence that ties you to the crime. We found bloody footprints leading from Evelyn Bradley’s body, and guess what, Roger, they are size eleven, the same size that you take.” Jake shoved a photo of the footprints towards his suspect.

  “So, I take a size eleven shoe, so do thousands of other men,” Roger snorted.

  “Yes, but thousands of other men didn’t cut themselves and use the Bradley’s bathroom towel as a bandage. Just how did you get that cut on your hand?”

  “I told you enough already.” Roger said. “I’m saying no more until I talk to my solicitor.”

  Jake played his trump card. He removed a photograph of Lucas Bradley. The dead man’s eyes were wide open and accusing, under frosted brows.

  “We found your DNA in the freezer you rigged up to freeze Lucas Bradley’s body after you killed him.”