When The Killing Starts: A DI Jack Dylan novel

by RC Bridgestock

  ‘Apart from Tara, she’s only a minor.’

  Ned came to the door. He was waving a piece of paper. ‘Sorry to interrupt. This report’s just come through from forensic that I’m sure you’d like to see.’

  ‘Good news?’ asked Dylan.

  ‘Yes, sir,’ he said with a rare smile as he offered the paper to Dylan who immediately started reading. ‘And the Chief Super wants to see you,’ he said to Vicky.

  ‘Me?’

  ‘Yep! What’ve you been up to, he didn’t sound too happy,’ said Ned.

  ‘Me?’ Vicky said again pointing to her chest.

  ‘Yes, you numbskull, and he said it was urgent so look sharpish.’

  Dylan’s attention was on the report: – Traces of blood on the knife positively identified as belonging to Farah Ruwal. Traces of blood on the knife that belonged to the deceased Freddy Knapton. Examination of Dean McIntyre training shoes revealed two traces of blood one being that of Freddy Knapton the other belonged to his dog (Satan). Traces of blood on Farah Ruwal’s clothing identified as Freddy Knapton’s and his dog. Traces of blood on Paul Bishop’s shoes belonging to Freddy Knapton. Traces of blood on Phillip Masters shoes belonging to Freddy Knapton.

  Dylan eyed Vicky over the report. ‘Anything you want to share?’

  Vicky looked sheepish. ‘I might have upset Beaky, a bit.’

  ‘How much is a bit?’ said Dylan. He turned to look where Ned stood at the door, looking very comfortable, with his back against the wall. ‘Shut the door behind you will you?’

  Begrudgingly, Ned left them alone.

  ‘Well?’ said Dylan.

  Vicky tilted her head to one side. ‘I called her a twat,’ she said quietly and grimaced.

  ‘You did what?’ said Dylan slamming the report down on the desk. ‘Avril Summerfield-Preston is the divisional administrator, you might not like the woman, few of us do, including the staff under her supervision. My advice - stay clear of her in future.’

  Vicky dropped her gaze to the floor. ‘Okay! Okay! I hear you!’ Vicky held her hand up as if to stop the verbal assault.

  ‘You know she has Hugo-Watkins ear,’ Dylan said a little calmer. ‘You’re not stupid. You’ve been in the job long enough now to know how it works. What did you call her a twat for?’

  Vicky’s cheeks flushed. ‘She was being judgemental.’

  ‘Judgemental? And you got upset by someone being judgemental in a police station, why?’

  ‘Let’s just say she had something inappropriate to say about Jen and the baby.’

  ‘What?’ Dylan said in a way that she thought he’d misheard. He felt a cold shiver run through him. He had often wondered at some of the things that he had seen her do, and heard her say, but he couldn’t believe even she could be cruel - until now.

  ‘So, as usual, you guessed it, I jumped in feet first and called her a twat amongst other things.’ Vicky paused. In all honesty she was lucky I didn’t deck her.’ Dylan’s silence encouraged her to continue. ‘She said she’d report me. So, I let her have it with both barrels. You know me in for a penny, in for a pound,’ Vicky screwed up her face. Her shoulders dropped. ‘You might as well know I also asked her if it meant I would be the subject of her and Hugo-Watson’s pillow talk that night? Stupid, yes, I know, but I couldn’t help myself. I was so bloody angry. I told her sleeping with the boss was the only way she’d got where she had and kept her job, at which point she started hyperventilating.’

  Dylan’s lip curled up at the corner.

  ‘You’re going to tell me I deserve to get a right rifting.’ Vicky bit her lip.

  The fact was she knew him so well. It was exactly what he was going to say. But in all honesty he didn’t know what he would have done if he’d been there. ‘Is there anything you haven’t told me?

  ‘No, I left her screaming for someone to get her a glass of water and her pills.’

  ‘She’ll be out to get her own back,’ said Dylan. ‘You know that?’

  ‘Yeah, well she can do her damnedest. Unless you’ve been in that situation no one could even begin to guess how you feel.’ Dylan sensed a knowing in Vicky.

  ‘Frighteningly you remind me of me in my younger days. And I think I should be thanking you for sticking up for Jen, not reprimanding you. So, go on then, what did she say?’

  ‘You don’t want to know.’

  ‘I do.’

  Vicky lifted her arm and showed Dylan the flat of her hand. ‘Please, trust me on this, you don’t.’

  ‘In reality, I’d have liked Jen to be a little stronger before the news got out but, it’s out there now and there isn’t a lot we can do about it is there. People like Avril will always have an opinion.’

  ‘Jen’s my friend and that, that woman, she’s pure evil.’

  Dylan smiled at her as his telephone rang. Hearing Hugo-Watkins voice he put his finger to his lips.

  ‘Hello sir. Detective Sergeant Hardacre is at present very busy. Yes, she’s interviewing a murder suspect. No, I don’t think it would be helpful for her to be distracted. If my officer has spoken out of turn to the divisional administrator then I will personally speak to her and find out the facts. And sir, if this is about what I think it is Detective Sergeant has already spoken to me about it, and I’d appreciate you doing the same to Avril Summerfield-Preston who I believe made some inappropriate comments about my wife and the baby? I’ll deal with my officer’s outburst if I feel it necessary and I’d be extremely grateful if you’d do the same with Ms Summerfield-Preston but, right now you’ll appreciate I’m dealing with two murder enquires. I have to go and deal with a lot more pressing police matters. Oh, and by the way, thank you for enquiring about my wife who is sadly having a great deal of trouble coming to terms with losing our unborn child. I am sure you’d like me to pass on your condolences?’ Dylan dropped the phone on its cradle. His nostrils flared, a sign, Vicky knew, that showed how angry he was.

  Vicky didn’t know whether to smile or not.

  ‘That took the bloody wind out of his sails. And I am in no doubt she was with him. I hope he had his phone on speaker so she could hear what I had to say. By the way, before I forget consider yourself bollocked,’ he said with a wink of the eye. ‘We’ve some results from forensic but not for everyone yet, I guess they’ll still be examining clothing etc. belonging to the others that were arrested and bailed?’

  ‘Yes, we prioritised or ‘best guessed’ the items of clothing that we thought they were most likely to get forensic evidence from and they’ve been sent. It’s so wrong that we can’t afford to send all the exhibits. How anyone can put a price on convicting a murderer I’ll never know.’

  ‘But they do. If only the public knew how it really is.’

  ‘Absolutely, guess it was no good sending a pair of Farah’s knickers off to forensic when the most likely evidence would be on a training shoe though eh boss?’ Vicky laughed heartily.

  ‘Trust you. McIntyre and Ruwal had to be our priority because of the evidence we have against them. Bishop is not a surprise,’ he said passing the forensic result document over his desk to her. ‘But Masters is. Masters, the footballer said he left when Tara Cabe ran off and she didn’t deny it, but if he did, then he obviously stuck the boot in early on, before he left.’

  Vicky scanned the forensic results received so far. ‘I’d better disclose this information to McIntyre’s solicitor before we go into the next interview otherwise he’ll only stop it again.’

  Dylan and Vicky walked at pace together down the corridor towards the stairs that lead to the cell area. As they did so, Avril Summerfield-Preston wandered out of the typist office, saw the two heading towards her, and promptly did a U-turn back inside, shutting the door behind her.

  Neither Vicky or Dylan made a comment but remained focussed and walked on by. Once McIntyre’s solicitor had digested the latest revelation from forensic they were soon back in the interview room sitting facing the pair.

  After the relevant formalities had bee
n adhered to before the start of an interview could commence, Dylan spoke.

  ‘Okay Dean you have now seen some of the evidence we have against you and we are waiting for more results. Is there anything you want to say to us at this time?’

  Dean McIntyre was in the mood for talking, it was obvious from the start.

  ‘Alright, I hold my hand up, I was there,’ he said holding his right hand above his head. ‘But Knapton was fucking threatening me so it was self defence?’

  Dylan hoped his face hadn’t given anything away but what a stupid and unexpected comment he thought. ‘But Dean, there were nine of you and you had a knife that you’d taken with you.’

  ‘That were only because he had that fucking nasty dog that he used to set on us. That thing was more dangerous than any fucking weapon.’

  ‘Did you stab Knapton?’

  ‘There is no good denying it is there? But I only did it because he was going fucking mental.’

  ‘So, can we go back to the beginning. Is it true that there was a plan to get Freddy Knapton into the car park to ‘teach him a lesson’?’

  ‘Yeah, he was a fucking nutter and his dog was a vicious git.’

  ‘Who thought up the plan?’

  ‘Dunno, all of us I suppose,’ he said screwing his nose up as he stared into the corner of the room as if searching for an answer.

  ‘Once you enticed him into the car park what was the plan? What were you going to do next?’

  ‘Dunno, suppose we were just going to scare him into stopping threatening people. He should have been locked up ages ago.’

  ‘So you managed to get him into the car park then what happened?’

  ‘We surrounded him, pushed him around a bit. Fat Farah Ruwal was shouting and screaming at him. She’s a fucking mental bitch.’

  ‘Who had the knife at this point, you?’

  ‘I did. Knapton were laughing and spitting at her like he was possessed. He wasn't a bit bothered by all of us being there. He liked to be the centre of attention I think. Then Farah grabbed the knife off of me and was like jabbing it at him, then she stabbed him with it.’

  ‘She stabbed him?’ Dylan asked

  ‘Yeah.’

  ‘How many times did she stab him?’ Vicky took over.

  ‘I don’t know. He was staggering about.’

  ‘Did you take the knife off Farah?’

  ‘Yes, she was going berserk.’ Deans lips parted slowly. He grinned.

  ‘Is that when you stabbed him?’

  ‘Everybody was agitated. Like I said he was going mental.’

  ‘Was it you who cut his throat?’

  ‘He wouldn’t stop, he kept threatening us. Everyone was running at him, he went down, everyone was jeering. ’

  ‘He fell to the floor did you say?’

  ‘Yes, there was a lot of blood everywhere. Then he went quiet, stopped moving. His dog was barking and barking and he wouldn’t shut up.’

  ‘Where was his dog?’

  ‘I don’t know. I could hear it. One of the others had caught it and held it in a snare thing that they use for mad dogs.’

  ‘Then what?’

  ‘We decided it best to throw him over wall.’

  ‘But he was dead?’

  Dean nodded. ‘To make sure.’

  ‘Whose idea was that?’

  ‘Dunno, but it seemed like the right thing to do at the time.’

  Dylan took over again.

  ‘You have the dog’s blood on your clothing. Is that because you killed it?’

  Dean snarled. ‘It were a nasty git. Just like its owner. We sorted it and left it for people to see in the park so that they would know it wouldn’t bother them or their dogs again. What’re you gonna do to me, ban me from owning a fucking dog?’

  ‘We?’

  ‘Farah.’

  ‘So, that’s what you thought did you? That if you killed him and his dog that they wouldn’t bother anyone again?’

  ‘Yeah.’

  ‘So you did intend to kill Freddy Knapton? And, in your eyes that was teaching him a lesson?’

  ‘It went a bit ... got a bit out of hand I suppose.’

  ‘Out of hand? But when Freddy was laid on the floor, not moving, I suspect, was it only then that you decided to make sure he was dead by throwing him from the roof of the building?’

  ‘That were never planned,’ he said with a nod of his head.

  ‘Anything else you want to tell us, or say to us?’

  ‘No,’ he said shaking his head this time. He lowered his head for a moment or two. But just as Dylan was about to terminate the interview he sat up straight in his chair. ‘Oh yeah, if I get charged with this will they drop the robbery charge I’m on remand for?’

  ‘That’s for the Court to decide,’ said Dylan. ‘I can’t comment.’

  ***

  The Knapton murder team were getting ready for the debrief. The team gathered consisted of uniform officers, detectives, CSI, HOLMES teams and anyone else who had been involved.

  ‘Boss,’ said Vicky leaning forward to catch his attention as he walked past. ‘Do you know what McIntyre’s reply was when I charged him?’

  Dylan leaned forward to hear what she had to say, ‘Go on?’

  ‘It was self defence.’

  Dylan smiled. He took up his position at the front of the room. He told the assembled, ‘Dean McIntyre has been charged with murder. Which means, for those who aren’t aware, we have two people charged with murder and seven others who are on police bail, likely to face serious charges. A lot of you in this room will have known or even had altercations with Freddie Knapton and his dog, perhaps both. Whatever our personal thoughts are about him, he and his dog were subjected to a violent attack which resulted in their deaths. It appears this gang simply wanted to teach him a lesson. Well, they certainly did that! Let’s hope the law will now teach them a lesson.

  This isn’t a full debrief. I have called in everyone, not simply to update you, but to thank each and every one of you for your sterling efforts in bringing these people to justice. Thank you. On a date in the future I am sure we will have a small celebration to which you will all be invited. Also, would you please pass on my personal thanks to your partners and family for their patience and understanding.’

  Dylan stood up and left the room heading straight for the Merton Manor incident room.

  Chapter Twenty Five

  He looked at his office clock. It was six-fifty. He smiled to himself as he booted up his computer. Once again, on his pillow, he’d left Jen a note to tell her how much he loved her, with his signature smiley face and a kiss but also he added, ‘One of these mornings I will still be here when you wake.’ Maisy was regularly waking up during the night crying. It had been happening more frequently of late. Earlier that morning it had taken them an extra-long time to settle her and he hadn’t been able to go back to sleep afterwards. He wished he knew what was upsetting her and how he could help. She obviously thought he could, as it was daddy,’ she called.

  Now the Knapton murder was no longer a mystery Dylan could focus his attention back on the serial killers. He sat quietly trawling through the database housing the enquiry to date. The word staddlestones for some unknown reason grabbed his attention. He pondered the fact that if they had gone to the extent of finding out if the staddlestones at Merton Manor were identifiable and valuable, then why hadn’t they checked those mentioned on past reports? Hadn’t Vicky mentioned a distinctive staddlestone she had seen in the garden of a neighbour of a complainant on the Knapton enquiry? Yes, he remembered, the elderly man who had been so angry when his neighbour had been knocked over by Freddy Knapton. He had threatened he would not be responsible for his actions should the police do nothing about the villain. Not that the officers had taken his threat seriously considering his age, size and ill health. Maybe staddlestones were just more common that he had thought? Never-the-less Dylan made a note to get that, and others, mentioned on the system, checked out as to their orig
in.

  It wasn’t long before Dylan’s peace and quiet was shattered. The team began to arrive and the noise of their jovial banter bounced off the walls and filtered into his office. A successful ending to an enquiry breathed new life into the station, not just the incident room. There really was nothing like ‘feeling a collar’ for Dylan or getting ‘a cough for murder’. And, no matter how many times he had done it, or what rank he achieved, he knew he would always feel the same thrill.

  At exactly nine o’clock Dylan’s office phone rang. He picked it up and answered in his usual way.

  ‘Hello, Mr Dylan, this is Mike Talbot from Redchester Regal Hire Cars.’

  ‘How can I help you Mike?’

  Dylan doodled on his notepad waiting for the anticipated question about the release date of the Mercedes they had seized from his garage, so his next words came as a bit of a surprise.

  ‘You told me to ring if I heard anything from the Devlins?’

  Mike Talbot had Dylan’s full attention. ‘I did indeed.’

  ‘Before I say anything, I want you to give me your word that you won’t tell anyone that I’ve called. I have a family and the last thing I want is to bring trouble to my door.’

  Dylan sat upright in his chair, his tone changed. ‘Be assured Mike,’ he said, standing so that he could close his office door. ‘Anything you tell me will be dealt with in the strictest of confidence.’

  ‘We’ve had a call from Mr Devlin. I don’t know which one or where they are but he requested a car, I am told for a week on Monday when he told my secretary that they would be coming back into the country. She told him that the Mercedes he had previously used was out and he was offered a black Jaguar for the same price.’

  ‘And did he approve?’

  ‘Yes he did. He couldn’t confirm a pick up time but said he would be here that day and could she have it, and the paperwork, ready for him to sign to avoid delay?’