by mark mctighe
Perhaps it was a mistake; he hadn’t pulled the plug and now Wass’s father looked bloated. The plug hole drew the water down and out, traces of blood swirled; lumps of shit, he hadn’t noticed the shit last night; the macerated excretion dissolving with the force of the exiting water, down and gone. Wass looked at the corpse. He was good at things like this, good at cleaning up a mess, it was what he did for a living. Thick plastic sheeting served as the theatre and body bag. A hacksaw, Stanley knife and secateurs were all the tools he needed; although strictly speaking he didn’t need the secateurs. Wass spread the sheeting across the bathroom floor; careful to raise the edges six inches up the walls. ‘A couple of dust sheets on top to soak up the juices’ he thought. He used the bath like a work bench, pulling an arm over the edge, wedging the body with an ironing board then sawing. The fresh bladed hacksaw was not unlike a butchers. It bit into the soft white watery flesh with every forward motion; the bone visible in seconds. Wass withdrew to the garage to retrieve a stone mason’s hammer and chisel. If he cut to the joints he could dislodge them with a single strike. It was a better solution. Wass worked steadily for an hour. As each limb was removed he placed it in the bottom of the bath. A trickle of hot water kept the plug hole open. He inhaled deeply, his father actually smelt better like this.
Wass worked continuously. The limbs were individually wrapped in plastic and stored in the chest freezer in the garage. The final act was to take the head off the torso. Again he leant the head over the edge of the bath, face up; the bloody ironing board pinning the torso in place. Wass could have been sawing a plank of wood, his face relaxed and expressionless. Wass sawed, struck the chisel twice with the stonemason’s hammer and sawed, taking the weight of the head in his left hand as the hacksaw cut through the final tendrils of flesh on the back of his father’s neck. ‘Done’ he thought, ‘now I’ve got an hour to clean the place up’. Wass picked the fingers out of the bottom of the bath. He counted as he collected them. ‘One, two, a thumb, another thumb, three......... yes eight fingers and two thumbs, full house’ he thought. He still didn’t know why he’d clipped them off with the secateurs, it had seemed a good idea at the time and it had given him a sense of power, his authority grew with each cut, each clip. The head was finally placed on top, face up and lids open. Wass knew that from time to time he’d like to stare into his father’s frozen eyes and tell him; tell him where he went wrong.
The house was clean and tidy; the windows open as far as the window locks would allow. Wass smiled to himself, a smile at the thought of returning to an empty house, a quiet house. Perhaps he should get a cat, yes, he’d always wanted a cat; and an aquarium. He’d never been allowed a pet and now he could do exactly as he pleased. He’d pay his father’s allowance into a new account and wait until he’d built up some funds; then he’d get the cat; the aquarium. Wass was so excited he just had to go and tell his father the good news.
9. Think.
There was never enough thinking time in an investigation. Leo hated getting caught at the station, trapped in some inane conversation; football, TV programmes, or worst of all other people’s children. He just didn’t need it. He’d been thinking all night, tried to go to sleep around midnight, then up again fifteen minutes later, pen in hand; scribbling, thinking. He’d called Ziggy and bounced a few ideas around. Ziggy didn’t complain about the lateness of the hour, he was used to it and more than able to get by on a couple of hours sleep. Besides he liked the attention.
Leo was sure that Peter Sasse had said something relevant, it was nagging him. He reconstructed the conversation as best he could but it wouldn’t come. ‘Perhaps I’ll see it differently in the morning’ he thought. He put his notebook and pen down and curled up on the sofa eventually falling asleep around 3.00. He woke up at 5.00 convinced that this wasn’t the first time this man had murdered; he’d contact the other forces and see if anything like this had come up before. Leo felt nervous, tense, not a great way to start the morning but he was convinced that it was going to happen again. OK, he’d been wrong before and yes it was guess work. The nervous energy of the investigation was preventing him from rest. He could rest when it was all over, when he was convinced it was just a one off, when the murderer was in custody.
At 6.00 Leo called a wide awake Mikey. ‘Need you to visit the ‘In and Out Club’, get an understanding of what Whittaker, Sasse and Horsham got up to’ he’d said. A briefing meeting was scheduled for 12.00 noon; ‘Mandy should have interviewed the building manager by then; and we’ll know more about what the ‘In and Out Club’ is all about, more about Whittaker’s ‘old boy’ network’ Leo thought. Then they could do some collective thinking, he’d ask Jack to sit in and Ziggy would have completed the forensic examination of the store room at Whittaker’s Tower. He couldn’t help himself but every time he thought of or heard mention of Whittaker’s Tower he snorted, not a loud snort, more of an exhale really but it was proving to be a regular comedy moment. It was so overtly masculine, phallic, and straight out of a comedy sketch. He could just see Dawn French having a field day with the double entendre.
“I’m Mandy Smith” she smiled and shook hands. There wasn’t any need for Wass to blush she just wasn’t pretty enough. ‘Smells of cheap body wash’ Wass thought.
“It’s terrible” Wass began; “we’re just trying to get to grips with the building, the security, and this happens.” They sat in a vacant office on the 12th floor of Whittaker’s; the rubber plant needed watering; Wass made a mental note to talk to the plant and greenery subcontractor; a light bulb had blown and the windows weren’t clean enough. He could feel the pressure building, not the pressure from the synthetic smelling police woman, no, pressure to sort the new block out and raise the standards to his levels of expectation, his exacting standards.
“I need you to think carefully. I know you’ve only had responsibility for a short while and don’t worry we’ll be interviewing your predecessor.” ‘What is the woman talking about now?’ Wass thought, ‘Where’s the question? And where does she buy her wardrobe? ‘Marks and Spenser’ or should that be ‘Marks and Square people’, she must cut her own hair’ he thought. Wass smiled and waited for the question to materialise.
“Are you missing any keys?” Mandy fell silent, ‘about bloody time’ Wass thought.
“Sorry it’s Mandy isn’t it, is it alright if I call you Mandy?” Wass put on his best sheepish, feeble, I’m just a building manager act.
“Yes of course” Mandy smiled; ‘he couldn’t hurt a fly’ she thought, ‘why can’t I get a nice man like this?’ She warmed to him, to his neediness, his awkwardness.
“I have to be honest Mandy I haven’t got a clue who’s got keys to the building or how many sets are in circulation. It’s on the security divisions ‘to do’ list; look I’ve got a copy here.” Wass showed her the spreadsheet. “Here, replacement of all exterior locks” Wass pointed his thin finger at the entry. “Then here, one point down, implementation of the ‘All Office’ key tracking system; I’m sure the security div will take you through what that involves if you want.”
“That won’t be necessary for the moment”. Mandy took the paper and looked.
“Next Monday the system goes live” Wass said.
“OK, CCTV?” Mandy waited.
“All our new kit is installed on that same Monday, next Monday” Wass emphasized. “Look it’s just below the key tracking system; items 7, 8 and 9.”
“Who knew about the new system, new kit?” Mandy soldiered on.
Wass pointed to the distribution list in the top left hand corner. “It’s been circulated to all the senior management team at ‘All Office’, our security division and the management team of Whittaker’s; pretty broad really. Look you can take my copy I’ll just print another one out.”
“Thanks” Mandy grimaced, ‘another hundred leads to follow’ she thought. “The existing CCTV kit was fused and no signal was sent to the remote recorder” Mandy began.
“It’s eithe
r a terrible coincidence” Wass shook his head, “or someone knew where the kit was and managed to overload it somehow.”
“Is it easy to overload?” Mandy scribbled in her book.
“I don’t know, I’m only repeating what our security tech said.”
“Can I have his name?” Mandy looked interested.
“Yes....., Tim......” Wass looked in his phone’s directory. “Yes, here we are Porter, Tim Porter. I’ve got his mobile if you like.” Mandy took the number.
“The locker, tell me about the locker Mr Wass.”
“Simon please” Wass replied.
“Tell me about the locker Simon.”
“Not much to tell other than there’s a room full of them in the basement, car park level. They’d just spent a fortune; Whittaker’s had just spent a fortune replacing them all with these new units.” Wass gestured towards a filing cabinet in the room. “It’s how ‘All Office’ got the contract really. We supplied all the new furniture through the Office Equipment Division and approached them for a ‘turn-key’ office management and security contract. It was actually just up for tender. It’s our ‘Trojan Horse’ approach, build contacts through the supply of furniture then..... Bob’s your uncle, and here we are”. Wass smiled through his thin lips, he felt it was going well; that Mandy didn’t have the capacity to embarrass him. “I am surprised that some of the old furniture escaped our recycling plant but sometimes they keep a few old units to give away to staff. You know, people who want to set up an office at home; it may be old but it’s solid stuff; don’t quote me but a lot of it’s better than the gear they’re replacing it with.” Wass played with his dry fingers, he’d spent too long with his hands in the aquarium and now his skin was suffering. Wass noticed the dirty marks, prints, around the light switch. The room probably needed a fresh coat of paint. He’d add it to the schedule.
“Did you see one of these old lockers being moved around?” Mandy enquired.
“No, that’s our responsibility, I’d have stopped the person, questioned them. Sure, I knew there were a bunch of them down in the store room but I’ve been flat out devising the maintenance schedule for the building. I was going to get them all away, recycled. It was going to become the store room for the toiletries.”
Mandy held eye contact, “was it ever locked, the storeroom?”
“Not that I’m aware of. There’s no need really, nothing of any value in there and the security is on the car park entrance and footfall entrance.” Wass looked away, he couldn’t stomach the staring ‘piggy’ eyes.
“Had you ever met Oscar Whittaker?” Wass hadn’t been expecting that question and it caused a moment of hesitation. He covered it well.
“I only hesitate because I think I walked past him a couple of times and I did an assessment of the Director’s suite a week or so ago. Mind you none of them were there at the time. I guess that’s why they let me go up.” Wass gave his best impression of being a second class citizen.
“Assessment?” Mandy knew it was going nowhere but was the kind of girl who would continue her line of questioning to the bitter end..... And beyond if necessary.
“There’s a blown double glazed window unit in Mr Whittaker’s office; a small amount of condensation but it still needs replacing. And that’s my job in a nutshell. I find the faults and arrange for them to be fixed within an agreed budget and above all with the minimum of disruption.”
“Thanks” Mandy stood up. “It sounds like a good job and I’ll bet you’re brilliant at it.” Wass was taken aback, nobody ever praised him, he just turned up and got on with things. He looked Mandy up and down. No, she was too square, her eyes too close and she smelt of air freshener. Wass shook hands and escorted her to the lift.
The team gathered at midday. Leo began; “I’m looking to see if there are any disgruntled investors; any significant losses in the business. Mandy, whilst I remember, I need you to talk to Victoria Sharpe. Was he having an affair? She’ll know. Right, first Ziggy’s updating us on forensics; then Mandy’s interview with the Building Manager, Simon Wass; then Mikey on the ‘In and Out Club’. Ah, and another thing the V that Whittaker wrote inside the locker, I’ve been thinking that it could have been the start of a W, or if the locker had been upside down, an M.”
“It wasn’t upside down” Ziggy replied. “The indentation from the kicking tells us which way up it was and anyway the letter was written high up in the locker..... But yes, it could be the start of a W, I don’t know how we missed that one. I’ll look at some handwriting samples, some people stylise the letters differently, yes good one.” Ziggy looked pleased.
“I’ve also put out an ‘all forces’ request for information about murders constructed in a similar way, same modus operandi.” Leo held his hand up, “It’s just a feeling that this isn’t his first; covering all the bases that’s all.” Leo looked across at Ziggy and nodded for him to start.
“No match on the bloods or the finger prints and no evidence whatsoever in the storeroom. There was just a neat pile of iron filings; like he’d swept up. I reckon he was in there for a couple or three hours; fixing those exterior bolts and locks. He’s good with his hands. If you or I had tried to fix the locker up like he did it wouldn’t have looked half so good; a perfectionist I’d say, precision itself and that gives us a tenuous link to someone with a background as a tradesman, carpenter, plumber etc. I’ll take another look at the W or the V or whatever it is..... Otherwise that’s all I can add.”
“Mandy” Leo prompted.
“Simon Wass, All Office’s new building manager; as expected he’s not really up to speed with the job. Keys...... Unknown number and in unknown hands. It seems like the previous contractor ran a pretty informal system. CCTV; crippled by someone who knew what he was doing. I am interviewing the previous contractor this evening but there was very little light they could shine on matters over the phone. I suspect they’ll stick with the line that ‘it didn’t happen on their watch’. I’ve established that all the new security measures are scheduled to be implemented next Monday. The email which details this time table was widely circulated at both All Office and Whittaker’s; so numerous possibilities there.” Mandy looked at her notes. “Storeroom was never kept locked, nothing worth taking, and I can’t find anyone from employees to visitors who saw the locker being moved.”
“Anything from the family?” Leo enquired.
“I’m set up for interviews tomorrow morning, I’ll keep you posted Guv.” Mandy sat back in her creaking chair.
“Guess that leaves me” Mikey began. “And don’t go holding your breath; I’m knee deep in mud and sinking fast. In essence, nothing of any value. The ‘In and Out Club’ confirmed the regular meetings of the three friends; saw the last four entries in the club register and it looks as though these were the only times any of them used the club, just for their get together. The general consensus was that these were rowdy occasions. Too much drink, snooker; a boy’s session, never went out, never left the building and never offended anyone more than is normal for three paralytic toffs.” He paused and turned the page forward; then back two. “Yes, small balances held in Whittaker’s personal bank accounts and no immediate access to significant funds that I could find. They had a signing off procedure on all transfers in excess of £100k; apparently no safe at home or office, no credit/debit cards missing, no activity on his accounts since the murder; blank.”
Leo exhaled loudly, he needed something to ‘light the fire’, something; anything. “We’ve got to start again. Rework everything; re-interview everyone; we’ve missed a clue somewhere, we always do.” He stood and stretched then leant over the desk, fists clenched. “He’s got certain skills, a perfectionist, physical strength, knowledge of CCTV and lifts; access to a Taser, chloroform. Could be a professional hit or someone who believes they have a reason to despise Oscar Whittaker. I think we need to focus on those two points; it’s professional because someone wants to damage the business or at some point in Whittaker’s li
fe he’s crossed someone ‘big time’. Yes, that’s where we focus for the next 24 hours.”
Jack made some notes and nodded his agreement. He rarely contributed during the meeting; he saved his pearls for later. The room emptied; Jack remained seated. “Leo, give it some thought; but you might like to bring in Richard for a consult; the locker; the lift shaft; he’s seen it all and might be able to sketch out a reason for the execution, the methodology.”
“Right now we could do with all the ideas we can get. I’ll give him a call.” Leo had used Richard Scarlett once before. His mind worked differently to anyone else that Leo had ever met. He pondered; deliberated; you could almost hear the wheels turning; frustratingly slow, mellifluous; then out of the blue a brain wave, a line of enquiry that no one else had been able to see. Yes, Richard Scarlett had helped Leo lock up a murderer for 25 years and for that he was extremely grateful. He was looking forward to getting Scarlett on the team; it would be a painful process to get him up to speed, laborious, but right now he didn’t have a shed load of other options to follow up on. No, it would be time well spent. Leo didn’t hesitate, he picked up the telephone and called Richard Scarlett. “Dick, it’s Leo Dix” he spoke into the recorder. “Jack’s given the OK to bring you in on a murder enquiry, Oscar Whittaker. I’d like to brief you tomorrow. I’ll call again later and fix it up; I’ll email you a copy of the investigation file.” He placed the receiver carefully, gently, in its cradle. ‘Thinking time’ he thought.... Grabbed his kit bag and headed down to the changing rooms.
