Wass (The Leopold Dix Thrillers Book 2)

by mark mctighe

  “You were right Guv, Dylan’s found some blood droplets alongside the ploughed field, by that flat patch of grass. He’s also found the attack site and it looks like the body was dragged on a plastic sheet to a muddy lane. We’ve got a sample of the sheeting, it snagged on a tree stump. There are three clear sets of tyre tracks and they’re taking moulds of them.”

  “6.00 tonight Mandy, briefing meeting, set it up can you. I want everything we’ve got and the whole team, no excuses. Oh and don’t forget Richard Scarlett.”

  “Right Guv, on to it.” The call ended as it had started; abruptly.

  ‘Entrapment, consciousness, drawn out revenge; is the steel locker significant? They’ve been friends for forty years, this could go back a long way’ Leo thought. He rang Mikey and re-emphasized the need to get James Horsham back. Horsham knew something significant and they just needed to coax it out of him. ‘This is where we can break it’.

  Leo had spent two hours laboriously getting police psychologist Dick Scarlett up to speed; another two hours of carefully studying the case notes and Dick felt ready and able to contribute, it was an interesting one.

  Leo had never met a man with more letters after his name; more qualifications. He watched as Dick scribbled his thoughts into a moleskin notebook. He seemed to write quicker than he thought and that was a little disconcerting. He kept coming back to the significance of the locker. “It’s significant” he announced. “I’ve not come across exactly this before but it’s reminiscent of a case I followed in South Africa.” Scarlett subconsciously chewed his lip. “There was this case just outside Cape Town, you must have heard about it Leo; similar, but it wasn’t a metal locker. It was a trunk; you know one of those large travelling trunks, old school trunks. Anyway, four people individually locked into these trunks, weeks apart. The trunks were dumped remotely, alongside dirt tracks that were used only a couple of times a week.” Scarlett started to scratch his neck uncomfortably. “Honey squeezed up their anal passages; holes punched into the sides of the trunk, and not for air. It was for the ants. They were eaten alive by ants and from the inside out by all accounts; raped by the ants. The forth one was still alive when they found him; survived a further 20 minutes and unable to talk.”

  Leo shook his head in utter disgust. He wasn’t sure about the significance.

  “They called it the aptly named Ant Murders; 1978 I think; anyway it turned out that they’d repeatedly gang raped this man’s sister, held her in one of these trunks for a week. It was his revenge; REVENGE Leo, that’s the point of the story. He turned himself in; he’d just wanted them to really suffer, the prolonged nature of the suffering was important to him see. I read his statement from the court room and he had no remorse; proud of what he’d done.” Scarlett began scratching his head; the thought of ants irritated his delicate scalp.

  “We’re meeting at 6.00pm, I know it’s a rush Dick but anything verbal you can give us then would be appreciated.” Leo left Scarlett to his ant thoughts; Ziggy would be pleased to have his favourite superhero ‘The Scarlett Dick’ working the case, he could never get enough of that joke; ‘in fact it might be just the ticket to bring Ziggy out of his wasp chewing stupor’.

  The 6.00pm meeting was pushed back twice; finally starting at 7.30pm. Leo outlined the way he wanted the meeting to go. “First I’d like Ziggy to update us on where we are with forensics, both the Whittaker and Sasse cases. Then it’s over to Dick for his initial thoughts on what might be driving these murders and a few pointers on the significance of the methodology. Then the rest of us can chip in with updates on our current lines of enquiry. I want to leave tonight with a clear focus to the investigation.... Zigs....”

  “Thanks Leo, right, Oscar Whittaker, there really is nothing else to say, you’ve got it all in the written reports...... Peter Sasse, as you know Dylan worked the abduction site and we have another droplet of blood; again it looks like a nose bleed. It was found by the flattened grass alongside the ploughed field.” Ziggy pressed a key on his laptop and a schematic appeared on the overhead screen. “Here....... I’m certain these are pressure related nosebleeds; either that or he sat waiting for Sasse picking his nose. As my old professor used to say; ‘show me a man with a nose bleed and I’ll show you a man who’s been picking his nose;’ anyway.... Just flattened grass and blood; the blood matches the samples found next to the lift in Whittaker’s tower. Dylan then found the site of attack.” Ziggy pointed into the area marked copse. “Broken twigs and tiny samples of Sasse’s blood, here and here; body was rolled onto a plastic sheet and dragged to a point here.” Ziggy continued in detail and the team listened in silence; they knew he hated being interrupted; it just broke his train of thought, his chain of thought. After a further five minutes Ziggy turned his attention to the metal locker; Sasse’s final resting place. “Exactly the same, exactly.” Ziggy let it hang in the air and soak in. “Electronic immobilisation, barbs ripped out; chloroform, shot of adrenaline. Even down to the smallest detail, the self tapping screws holding the bolts on, exactly the same; same make of lock, presumably just a different key. And then it changes.” He paused and ran his finger along his notes. “The evidence points to this; a van arrives late, time of death 1.00am this morning, so van possibly arrived say 12.30. It is manoeuvred to within a couple of inches of the bridge wall. Back of vehicle open, tail lift flipped down but remains in an elevated position; locker walked onto the tail lift. At this point the holes are drilled into the locker with a drill bit of at least 60cm; it passes through both sides of the locker. Sasse took three hits to his legs and judging by the position of the holes and his injuries we know he was standing up... Up to this point. He subsequently slumps down in the locker and receives two hits to the abdomen. There was a significant loss of blood from these core injuries and blood made its way out of the locker and onto the tail lift. I’m convinced about the tail lift for two reasons. Firstly the weight, but more meaningfully the pattern created by the blood loss. You see Sasse’s blood ran out of the locker and in five different directions. It spilt over the edges of the tail lift and gave us a visual impression. The lift is 1.50m deep and 2.00m wide. We’ve dug up a list of vehicles where this size is fitted as standard. It’ll be in my report. So.... The locker went into the water around 1.00 and Sasse died by drowning. He may well have been unconscious from the abdominal injuries. We’ll never know; locker found by a young angler at 5.30 this morning. It was his regular spot; deep, big chub and he’d even taken a pike there a fortnight ago.”

  Leo could see Dick Scarlett noting down the word pike. He couldn’t imagine why. “Thanks Zigs” Leo began.

  “I’ll have it all typed up by 10.00am tomorrow, you’ll all get a copy then.

  “Richard......” Leo waited; everyone waited.

  Dick looked uncomfortable on his chair. He shuffled his bottom. He didn’t look well, but then he never really looked well. His scalp sensitive; it had remained itchy ever since he’d had that discussion with Leo about the ants. “I caught a pike once” Scarlett began; “gave me such a nasty bite...... Never picked up a rod since, caught it on a spinner.” The room inhaled and everyone looked at one another waiting for something a little more pertinent. “Clearly physically strong; well planned and executed; a perfectionist” Leo looked surprised and sat up to attention. It usually took him at least 10 minutes to get this much information out of ‘The Scarlett One’. Ziggy looked impressed, ‘perhaps it was the strength of the coffee.’ “Death by falling........ Death by drowning........ And there’s a bucket load of mental and physical torture along the way. But in its simplest form that is exactly what it all boils down to, that’s the key, drowning and falling; that and the imprisonment. There’s also control; limiting their actions, solitude, darkness. Not only are they contained in a dark place; it all happens at night.” Leo let it infuse him. No note taking was necessary; he’d have the written reports in the morning. He watched Scarlett and listened.......... “Inevitability; bolts thrown, padlock in place and th
e murderer knows they’re never coming out; anger and revenge to me. It’s a holding bay, the locker; they can be talked to, talked at. I would expect a significant dose of mental torture at this point. You don’t kick out and break all the toes on your foot without reason and from what I understand Whittaker just kept kicking; high pain tolerance? It’s more likely to be abject fear. Each man probably knew exactly what was about to happen to him..... Physicality and nature of the murders say it’s a man but you can’t discount a very strong woman. I would suggest he lives alone, works in a job with little interaction, and he, I only use the word ‘he’ because it’s most likely, continues to remain a serious threat to anyone else who..... I suggest revenge, even for something seemingly insignificant, and if anyone else was party to this incident or trigger then they remain in mortal danger. I would think that right about now he feels truly and utterly invincible.”

  Leo pointed a finger at Mikey. “Get Horsham back on the next flight”. Mikey left the room.

  The meeting lasted just over three hours. And Jack had been spot on; Scarlett was worth having. At close to eleven O’clock Leo finally summarised. “So it’s not about the money, or the business. It’s not about theft. It’s about control and revenge, suffering. Not a quick kill but a drawn out mental and physical torture, brutal. We have two old school friends, Oscar Whittaker and Peter Sasse; they regularly met with another school friend James Horsham and they had remained in touch since school. A forty year friendship. More recently they met four times a year at their London club and had a ‘piss up’. We can find no common business interests, no family interaction. It was just those four or maybe five times a year at the club. Victoria Sharpe confirmed this. She knew all of Whittaker’s movements and they never met otherwise....... So it’s back to the aptly named ‘In and Out Club’ and a visit to the old school. We need to arrange to meet the school teachers who were teaching there at the time.... And Horsham. These are our three principal line of enquiry.”

  Leo took the James Horsham interview and decided that it would be useful to have Scarlett sit in. Mikey hadn’t needed to chase Horsham. He was due in at Heathrow at 7.00am the next morning. “Mandy the school, Jack said he’ll smooth things down with the local police so focus on tracking down all the teachers from their time and find out what they got up to. We’ll also need to question their class mates and former pupils. Devise your plan and email it to me, you’re going to need some extra people to get through that lot quickly. Mikey it’s back to the club; staff, management, guests registered at the same time they were there. Who did they upset? Who did they have a run in with?” The meeting adjourned.

  Scarlett moved over to Leo. “The locker’s more significant than I first thought, just like the trunk in the ‘ant murders’. The brother just wanted them to know how it felt to be locked up and waiting for the ordeal to begin again.” He scratched his scalp. “It’s a ‘you do it to me and I’ll do it to you’ kind of attitude. I think the locker has real significance.”

  12. Rufus.

  It was late. Leo sat and re-read the reports from Ziggy. The reports Zigs had produced 8 hours before his self imposed deadline of 10.00am. Scarlett was on to something; the locker was important. He’d make sure Mandy and Mikey included it in their line of questioning and he’d ask Horsham about its possible significance.

  Leo was expecting a visitor. A welcome break from the ‘locker murders’ as everyone seemed to be calling them. He sat up a little as he heard the slamming of a car door. There was something about the force of the closure that made Leo think it was his son, Rufus. A window shattering kind of door slam that could enrage the unsuspecting taxi driver; and sure enough a knock on his door followed.

  “Dad are you there? Left the bloody keys in Switzerland.” Leo smiled and waited a second; just long enough for doubt to be established.

  “Of course I’m here.” Leo announced as he appeared in the short entrance hall. “Where else would I be when I said I’d be waiting up for you?”

  “Relief man, had me worried for a second, thought I’d be off to mum’s and I don’t think she’d appreciate this pack.” A huge grin spread across Rufus’s face. “Get the kettle on will you Dad. I could murder a cuppa, oh and I’ve brought you an endless supply of Lindt.” The backpack hit the floor and sent a reverberation through the small terraced house. ‘Neighbours’ll think it’s an earth tremor’ Leo thought; ‘but oh no it’s worse..... It’s Rufus’.

  It was just over three months ago that Leo had finished his Swiss adventure, his much earned sabbatical. Together they had done something special; father and son. They’d climbed mountains and rebuilt a derelict chalet, ‘Chalet Rothorn’, high in the Alps; a chalet he’d know nothing about until the reading of his mother’s will. The memories flooded back. He thought he’d known all there was to know about his mother and then the next moment he’d inherited a chalet that had been in the family for centuries. But it wasn’t the building project that had created this inseparable bond. It was what had happened to them; the discovery of the bodies, the attacks and the near death experiences. That was what had forced them into the same skin and bound them together for life.

  “Got the drugs” Rufus said as he slapped fifteen 300 gram golden bars of Lindt onto the table.

  “And I’ve got the tea” Leo appeared with two steamers. “So you’re here for an adventure holidays exhibition?” Leo’s statement left it suitably open.

  Rufus slurped the top off his tea and sat back in a comfortable chair; the steaming contents of his mug slopping over the rim and onto his fleece. He ignored it. “Yes, I guess so. It’s only a small event; a few specialist travel agents.” Rufus pondered. “We’re offering a climbing package and an ‘extreme walking’ package.”

  “Extreme walking,” Leo chuckled.

  “That was my idea and Gustav seemed to like it. It offers some of the peaks to adventurous walkers; no climbing knowledge required. Essentially we rope them to a guide, that’s me, and crampon them up the nearest glacier; get them close to 4000m. We’ll jump a couple of crevasses, give them an ice axe, stay in a cabane and take a photo at the top. And I reckon it’ll be a bit of a winner.”

  “Great idea” Leo said. The enthusiasm in Rufus’s voice was overpowering. “And how’s the big one, how’s Gustav doing?”

  “We’ve scheduled an Eiger climb this August” and that was enough information for Leo to know that Gustav’s recovery was going fast.

  “And home? All our work holding together? Water supply still running?” Leo missed the chalet, the solitude and the fact that your mobile didn’t work.

  “Yep and yep, you made me dig that supply pipe so deep that the water actually runs warm; heated from the core of the planet man.”

  It was great to have him back even though it was only for 24 hours. “Fancy a snack?” Leo said, his stomach growled.

  “Yes, whatever you’re having.” In all the years Leo had never known Rufus to turn down a snack.

  “It’ll have to be cheddar, I’m out of Gruyere.”

  “No worries” was cast back from the comfortable chair. “So what’s the deal with Simone?” Rufus asked. “I can’t seem to get anything out of her. She just sits behind the ski school desk looking increasingly miserable.”

  ‘Shit I was going to call her’ Leo thought; ‘tomorrow’. “Don’t think it’s working for either of us” Leo began. “We’ll have to have a frank discussion this week I guess.”

  “That sounds ominous, go easy Dad. Got any pickle?” The gravitational effect of the cheese sandwich had shifted all thoughts away from personal relationships and on to stomachs. The sandwiches were stacked high as Rufus balanced the plate on his thigh. “So it’s over then?” Rufus was able to continue his line of questioning now that the cheese and pickle was in hand.

  “In a nutshell...... Yes, I guess it is....... It’s the distance thing. She lives there and I live and work here. It’s nigh impossible to continue a long distance relationship. I’ll call her tomorrow
.” The plate slipped off Rufus’s knee and a sandwich wedged itself between the cushion and arm of the chair. Rufus eased his fingers into the gap, pulled it out and brushed the fluff off: a smear of mayo and pickle the only evidence that it had ever rested there. “I can see you’ve gone native” Leo grinned and shook his head. “You know you’ll have to clean up your act if you’re eating in front of Mum.”

  “Ah, small technical problem, it’s just a flying visit and she doesn’t actually know I’m over.” Rufus looked apologetic for at least a second.

  “Well, she won’t hear it from me.”

  “Any interesting cases on the go?” Rufus quickly changed the subject whilst forcing the rest of the cheese and pickle into his already full mouth.

  ‘Good god, I hope he doesn’t cough now’ Leo thought. “Yes I’m working two related murders, both men locked and bolted into a metal...”

  “Locker” Rufus finished the sentence. “Jesus Dad you don’t half land them, it’s all over the press ‘the locker murders’, I was just reading about it in The Standard. Christ, that’s terrifying, what a case to get.”

  Rufus was always a good sounding board and never uttered a word to anyone about his father’s work. And despite the late hour Leo took Rufus through the case. It always helped to outline the case without notes, it made you think and not just read, make connections that perhaps you hadn’t seen before. Yes, thinking was good, it solved problems. After half an hour of listening, Rufus was hungry. He cracked half a dozen rows off the golden chocolate bar, neglecting to see the splinters of chocolate that fell between his legs and melted onto the fabrics beneath, and sat back in the arm chair.

  “Perhaps he took something off this Whittaker’s desk?” Rufus chipped in. “This Sasse bloke who was subsequently murdered may have been totally unknown to the murderer..... He might have hated this Whittaker so much that after killing him he starts murdering his mates, his friends, acquaintances.”