by L M Krier
'If I tell you, I'll have to kill you,' the DS smiled. 'And talking of being killed, my missus will kill me if I don't get back home pretty sharpish. I'm supposed to be taking my lad to a sports club tonight to get him signed up for some baseball training. That should at least spare me from any more bruises or cracked ribs. Do you have kids, Virgil?'
'No, Sarge,' Virgil shook his head, 'and the way things are going with me and my wife at the moment, it's not likely to happen. I'm on restricted privileges – very restricted, if you get my meaning – because we keep having big rows over my hours. I did try to warn her that being a copper was not a nine to five job. And she hates it when I'm out doing stuff like this.'
'My wife isn't wild about it either,' the DS said, 'although she's got used to it over the years.'
'We usually have a few drinks with the boss for Christmas, with partners invited,' Virgil told him. 'Maybe yours could have a word with mine, explain things a bit. Otherwise, if I get any interesting offers tonight, I might just be inclined to take them up!'
'I'll pretend I didn't hear that, Detective Constable,' the DS smiled. 'Right, take care out there, go and see what you can find out. What's that bit about the voodoo the boss said?'
Virgil laughed. 'If you want to get on the good side of the boss, learn a few quotes from Blazing Saddles, Sarge. It's his favourite film, he knows the sound track by heart.'
'I'll see you tomorrow,' Hallam said, as Virgil got out of the car. 'I'm going to take this car in to be fumigated so the next poor user doesn't choke to death on your aftershave fumes.'
As soon as Virgil got out of the car and into the gathering night, he slipped effortlessly into his new persona. He was hard to spot as a cop to anyone who didn't already know him. If he was careful how he approached the girls and pimps alike, he should turn up some leads, without putting himself at any risk.
Like the rest of the team from the boss on down, he was worried that their killer may be someone just randomly snatching his victims with no pre-planning, always the hardest to track down. He knew the girls on the streets did their best to keep an eye on one another and that the older ones in particular kept a motherly eye on the younger ones, especially those without pimps to protect them.
His gut instinct was that Maggie had been operating alone with no pimp to keep an eye on her, but he needed to find out if his instincts were correct.
Virgil had good contacts on his patch. He was liked and respected by most as a good, fair copper, doing his job without excessive zeal. It paid off when he needed information in exchange. What earned him most respect was that he investigated crimes against, as well as by, people of all races equally.
By the time he'd finished his shift, he had a lot of information about Maggie. He knew the precise location of the derelict house where she usually took shelter. He knew her method of working and knew with certainty that she would get into any car with anyone, the flashier the motor the better, because it smacked of more money. And he knew she definitely didn't have a pimp.
The trouble was, spending so much time on the streets on a cold winter's evening, delving into the murky side of the sex trade had left him largely feeling cold but also feeling extremely horny. There was one part of his body which was far from feeling the cold.
Hoping to bring warmth where it was needed and take the heat out of other parts, he peeled off his pimp's threads and bling as soon as he got home and slid quietly between the sheets next to his already sleeping wife. Eagerly he moved close up against her, pressing the most optimistic part of his anatomy against the soft curve of her buttocks.
At the contact, his wife shot bolt upright in bed and shrieked harshly, 'Jesus Christ, Dennis,' as she refused to use his work nickname. 'You're freezing and you stink like a whore's boudoir. For God's sake go and get a shower and make sure you scrub every bit of you before you come anywhere near me. I dread to think what you've been up to tonight.'
Virgil slunk obediently away to do as she said. By the time he returned, freshly showered and smelling of ginseng and cinnamon instead of like a Haitian pimp, his wife was sleeping the sleep of She Who Must Not Be Disturbed.
Chapter Twenty-two
Ted was in early, ahead of his team, but his DS was not far behind him, both eager to dissimulate the information from the previous night's work, to push the enquiry forward.
'Blimey, Mike, you look even worse today,' the DI commented as Hallam came slowly and stiffly in through the door, every movement clearly causing him a lot of pain.
The DS tried to laugh it off but gave up the attempt, which clearly hurt too much. 'This is you trying to be encouraging, is it, sir? I am actually getting better, slowly, I just stopped taking the painkillers. They were knocking me out and I can't really drive much when I take them.'
'Well, clearly you know your own body best but for goodness sake take some time off if you need to,' Ted told him. 'If you push yourself too hard now you're not going to hold out for the rest of the enquiry.'
Hallam nodded, with gritted teeth, and eased himself down into his seat.
The rest of the team were in on time as usual. Maurice Brown stunned everyone by producing a big bag of clementines instead of his usual sticky buns. He laughed at the DI's surprised look and patted his not inconsiderable girth.
'Early New Year's resolution, sir,' he said. 'Hopefully, we'll not be long before we're collaring this bastard. I want to be able to do something more useful for the team than just squashing him into submission.'
With the information feeding in, their white board was getting fleshed out. One thing it was showing was that there were almost no similarities between the two victims but plenty of differences, pointing more and more to random selection.
There had been hardly any response to the appeal for information on Maggie Fielding, the second victim, but Ted was not surprised at that. The only people who were likely to be able to identify her were those who paid for her services and those who sold her drugs, neither of which group was likely to contact the police willingly.
Then Rob O'Connell took a call, put his hand over the mouthpiece and called across to the DI. 'Sir, got someone on the line who says he has some information, but he'll only talk to you.'
Ted headed for his own office, calling, 'Put him through,' as he went. He hoped it wasn't going to be Honest John or Oliver Burdon, calling for a chat.
'Is that Detective Inspector Darling?' a voice asked, as soon as Ted picked up the phone and said, 'Hello.'
'Speaking,' Ted replied.
'I saw your appeal on the television. I have some information about the second victim. I'm willing to come to the station to talk, but only to you in person and only on the assurance that what I tell you is in confidence,' the voice continued.
'Sir, I am conducting a murder enquiry,' Ted said sharply. 'If you are in possession of any information, it is your duty to disclose it and there are no pre-conditions possible. Bearing in mind that my team can and will trace you, I strongly suggest you come in to the station of your own free will for me to interview you and hopefully, from your point of view, eliminate you from our enquiries.'
There was a long pause. 'Very well, Detective Inspector,' came the terse response. 'I will be at the station in approximately half an hour.'
'Thank you, Mr …?' but the caller had already rung off.
Ted went back out to his team. 'Interesting,' he told them. 'We have an as yet unidentified male coming in shortly, who says he has information on our Victim Number Two. He wants anonymity, so I think we can make an educated guess at what his relationship may have been with Maggie.'
He looked round the room at the expectant faces. 'Who wants in on this one with me? Sal, what about you? Do you fancy a break from the fraud case? Pass that over to someone else for a bit?'
Sal let out a huge audible sigh and punched the air. 'I thought you would never ask, sir,' he said. 'Now, what am I bid for a lovely fraud case? One careful owner? Still lots of mileage? Form an orderly queue, don't a
ll shout at once.'
When Ted and Sal got the call that the potential witness was in an interview room awaiting them, they went downstairs. As Ted went into the room, he was astonished to find that he knew the man, at least by sight. He was the assistant manager of a bank in town.
Ted introduced himself and Sal, for the tape. The man identified himself as Leslie Jones and immediately reached out to shake Ted's hand. As soon as Ted felt the thumb pressure on his forefinger, he dropped the hand and sat down.
'Mr Jones,' he said, 'let me begin by saying I do not belong, and never have belonged, to any secret society, certainly not the Freemasons. So any funny handshakes or supposedly secret distress signals are wasted on me. If you have any information for us, I would like you simply to state it, clearly and slowly for the purposes of the tape.'
The man looked shocked and uncomfortable. 'I am well known socially to a number of your superior officers,' he said snippily.
'Then I congratulate you, sir,' Ted said, still just on the right side of open discourtesy, 'but my only interest is in the brutal murder of two young women and your claim, in a telephone call, to have information on at least one of them.'
Jones looked increasingly ill at ease, positively squirming in his seat. 'I do have information, but it could be very compromising for me to disclose it,' he said.
'All I can say to that, Mr Jones, is it will be much more compromising for you, in all probability, if I have to find out such information for myself,' Ted told him.
Sal was watching the exchange between the two men with silent fascination. He knew the boss played various racquet games like badminton and tennis. He made that very definitely advantage DI Darling.
'Very well,' Jones sighed, after a pause for reflection. 'I, er, I paid the girl Maggie on a couple of occasions for her, er, for her services. My wife is very … she's a cold woman, not at all forthcoming …' He broke off, looking beseechingly at the two men for their comprehension.
'Go on, Mr Jones,' Ted said patiently. 'It is not my job to judge you.'
'The thing is … ' again the hesitation. 'The girl was in my car on Tuesday evening, and I think that is the day you were asking about.'
Ted and Sal exchanged loaded glances.
'Mr Jones, I think at this stage you should consider having a lawyer present, before you make any further statement and answer any further questions,' Ted told him.
'Am I under arrest?' Jones asked indignantly. 'The girl was alive when she left me. I just wanted to come in because she was in my car and we, well you know, we had a bit of business. I wanted to come in to clear it up, just in case anyone had seen us, though I am always very careful to avoid that.'
'Mr Jones,' Ted said patiently. 'This is a murder enquiry. Surely you must realise that I cannot simply take your word for anything, I need to check everything you tell me. What time were you with the girl?'
'I went out shortly after seven. I told my wife I was popping back to work to pick up a folder I needed. She always watches East Enders, so I knew she wouldn't take much notice of my absence.
'I picked the girl up quite quickly and we drove round the corner to a patch of waste ground which is badly lit. We, er, we did the business. We stayed in the car, less chance of being seen like that. It didn't take very long. I don't last long these days, it's such a rare treat,' he said with evident distaste. 'I drove her back to where I'd picked her up, paid her, dropped her off and went home. That's all. I was back shortly after eight, my wife can confirm that.'
'Where is your car now, Mr Jones?' Ted asked.
'It's parked at the bank. Why?' Jones asked.
'We will need to get it forensically examined,' Ted told him.
'Why? I told you the girl was in it with me, clearly there will be traces of her there …' Jones broke off as light dawned on his face. He suddenly went deathly pale. 'Oh, my God, you want to check to see if she was killed in my car, is that it? But I didn't kill her!'
'Mr Jones, it would be very helpful indeed if you gave me the keys to your car so I can arrange for an officer to collect it and have it examined,' Ted said. 'I will want to ask you more questions but I suggest we take a break for now to allow you to contact a lawyer, and I strongly advise you to do so.'
'Am I under arrest?' Jones asked again, blustering.
'Not at this stage, Mr Jones, you are merely voluntarily helping us with our enquiries,' Ted told him. 'But I have to inform you that I cannot rule out that becoming the case in the near future.'
Chapter Twenty-three
'Got a possible suspect, Jim,' Ted said, as he walked into the DCI's office. 'Came in of his own accord, which is strange, as he looks a strong contender. He admits having sex with Maggie in his car on the night she was killed.'
The DCI looked up, interested, hope sparking in his eyes. They badly needed a break on this one, and soon. 'Who is it?' he asked.
'Leslie Jones, deputy manager of a bank in town,' Ted told him. 'I know him by sight.'
'Good God!' the DCI looked shocked. 'I know him too, through the Lodge. Has he confessed?'
'Not yet,' Ted replied. 'I've put him on ice while he sorts out a solicitor. I'm having his car brought in now so we can see if having sex was all he did to her in there.'
'I really can't believe it,' the DCI said. 'My wife and I have had dinner with him and his wife on several occasions. And you tell me he goes with prostitutes?'
'Not all marriages are quite what they seem from the outside, Jim,' Ted said gently, hoping he hadn't crossed a line.
'What's the plan now?' the DCI asked.
'I'll question him, while they're working on the car. He's only just come in so we've got nearly all of our twenty-four hours left to hold him, until I see if we have enough to charge him,' Ted said. 'Meanwhile I've got the team working on looking for any connections at all between him and Vicki Carr.'
'Leslie Jones, though?' the DCI said in bewilderment. 'I just can't see him cutting off women's breasts and taking out their ovaries. I seem to remember he made a very poor show of carving the turkey when we had a Christmas meal with them one year. Keep me posted on this one, Ted, every step of the way.'
'Yes, of course,' Ted agreed as he made to leave. Then he turned back and added, awkwardly, 'Jim, I know you won't take this the wrong way but, in view of your social connections to a prime suspect, I just thought I ought to raise the question of keeping a lid on this.'
The Big Boss gave him a intensely long, hard look, which Ted held unwaveringly.
'You get away with a lot, Ted, because I know you're such a good copper,' he said eventually. 'And also because, in your position, I would have said exactly the same thing and would not have considered I had done my job properly if I hadn't.'
As Ted headed back towards his own office, DS Hallam called out to him. 'Sir, young Steve's got something.'
'Yes, Steve?' Ted asked.
'Sir,' the TDC said, and Ted was pleased to see he was looking more at ease in speaking out. 'DS Hallam told me to start looking for any links between Jones and Vicki Carr.'
'And?' Ted prompted gently.
'She had an account at the bank where he works, sir,' Steve told him.
'Did she indeed?' Ted responded. 'Right, good work, keep digging. I want to know every link, no matter how small. If they even sat next to one another on a bus one time, I need to know about it. Sal, you're with me again. With Jones's Masonic connections, I bet his brief will be there before we even get back downstairs.'
He wasn't quite, but the solicitor did arrive in a remarkably short time. Huw Edwards and Ted knew each other slightly and had a grudging mutual respect. As soon as the two officers were sitting down opposite Edwards and his client and the tape was running, Edwards made it clear that he was not happy.
'For the record, is my client under arrest?' he began by asking.
'No, sir, as I have already explained to Mr Jones, twice, he is not,' Ted told him formally. 'Your client is currently helping us with our enquiries and came in o
f his own free will to do so. I am strongly suggesting that he remains here until we are satisfied we have all the information necessary to decide whether or not charges will be forthcoming.'
Turning to the new suspect, Ted asked, 'Mr Jones, does the name Vicki Carr mean anything to you?'
Jones looked thoroughly bewildered. 'Nothing at all,' he replied. 'Should it?'
'Ms Carr has an account at the bank in which you work,' Ted told him.
The solicitor scoffed. 'Oh, please, Detective Inspector. Have you any idea how many people do? Is my client supposed to know every person who banks in his branch?'
Ted watched Jones's face carefully whilst he told him,'Vicki Carr was the first victim in our current murder enquiry. I'm presuming you saw either the press conference on the television, or the report of it in the newspapers, which is what led you to telephone me with information. I'm surprised, therefore, that you claim to be unfamiliar with the name.
'We are currently investigating any possible links between you and both of these two young women, Mr Jones.'
Jones's face went ashen. He looked totally shell-shocked. It was beginning to dawn on him that he had suddenly gone from being a respectable member of society, admitting to some dubious sexual activity, to being a prime suspect in a double murder enquiry.
Edwards also looked incredulous but was professional enough to cover it up quickly. 'In that case, Inspector, I insist on some time alone with my client, in order that I may advise him on how to respond to your questioning.'
'Of course, sir,' Ted said politely, as he and Sal stood up. 'DC Ahmed and I will leave you to it. I will arrange for some tea or coffee to be brought to you. Just inform the officer who will be outside the door when you are ready to resume questioning and we will come back. But please, take as much time as you and your client need.'
As he and Sal headed back upstairs again, Ted asked him, 'What are your thoughts, Sal? Do you think he's our man?'
