by L M Krier
'Well, sir, if he is, he's taken one hell of a gamble, coming in here and telling us he'd been …' he caught himself up short just in time before he said 'shagging', as he was not quite sure if the DI would approve. '...if he'd been going with prostitutes and had Maggie in his car the day she was killed. The likelihood of us finding that out for ourselves was very slim and he must surely have known that.'
'I'm struggling to see where he got his surgical skills,' Ted admitted. 'It does seem somewhat unlikely for an assistant bank manager. Although, of course, we can never tell what things people get up to in their own homes.
'We'll have to wait and see what forensics come up with on the car. He's admitted she was in it with him and that they were at it in the car, but I still don't see how we could make a murder charge stick on that alone. Especially if his wife confirms that he was home just after eight. I need to check the post-mortem report but I don't think that would tally with the time of death. Which reminds me …'
They were back in the CID office by now and Ted looked around to see who was available. 'Tina, I need you to go round and get a statement from Mrs Jones on her husband's movements on the night in question. Mike, are you up to going along on this?'
'Not really, sir, if that's all right,' the DS said. 'Still a bit painful getting in an out of a car at the moment, especially a Mini – no offence, Tina.'
'None taken, Sarge,' she smiled. 'You certainly do look pretty rough.'
'Steve, you go along,' Ted told him. 'You deserve to go out a bit, that was good work you did earlier on. Meanwhile we're just waiting for our Mr Jones to have a long talk with his solicitor to get his story straight before Sal and I go and talk to him again.
'I'm not convinced he is our man, at the moment,' he told the team. 'I can't for the life of me figure out why he would give himself up on a plate, yet without fully confessing, if he is the killer. Unless it's the most monumental bluff of all time.
'Keep digging, keep looking for links between Jones and both of the victims. Someone draw me up a time-line of Vicki Carr's last hours. I need to know exactly what times I need Jones to account for his movements, so he can talk himself in or out of the frame for both these killings.'
Chapter Twenty-four
Tina and Steve had driven round to Jones's house, Tina at the wheel of the Mini. Steve was impressed. He had a secret crush on the DC anyway and going anywhere alone with her was the stuff of his dreams. It took a lot of self control to stop it spilling over into fantasy, which would have had embarrassing consequences.
The Joneses lived in a modest semi, on the edge of Bramhall, which was probably an expensive piece of property, because of its postcode alone. The front garden was neat and trim but definitely boring. Its only striking feature was an impressive monkey puzzle tree in one corner.
Both officers had their warrant cards in their hands when Mrs Jones came to the door, and Tina was quick to reassure her that there was no cause for alarm, they were just there to make routine enquiries.
They were shown into a fussy front room with rather too much Lladró around for Steve to feel comfortable. He was terrified that one false move on his part would bring a few porcelain figurines crashing down around him.
'Mrs Jones,' Tina began in her most business-like manner, 'your husband is fine, please don't worry. He may have been a witness to an incident we are investigating. We just wanted to check his movements and wondered if you could tell us what he was doing on Tuesday evening, please.'
The woman looked bored rather than remotely worried. 'Tuesday?' she asked. 'Let me see. We ate not long after he got in from work, about half past six, I would think. Do you need to know what we ate? I think it was haddock, it usually is on a Tuesday.'
'That's not necessary, Mrs Jones,' Tina assured her, 'but thank you for the information.'
'Tuesday is one of my East Enders nights, I never miss it,' she continued. 'My husband doesn't like it, but I do. He said he had to go back to work to pick something up. I don't remember what he said it was, so he went out as soon as he'd finished eating, probably just before seven. Is this right? Is this what you need to know?'
'Perfect, Mrs Jones,' Tina reassured her. 'Please do go on.'
'Do you want a cup of tea or anything?' the woman asked. 'I really should offer you something.'
Tina had a sudden mental image of Steve trying to cope with a bone china tea cup and saucer, and had to suppress a smile. 'That's very kind, Mrs Jones, but no thank you, we don't really have the time. Please go on.'
'East Enders was actually a bit disappointing,' she said rather wistfully. 'A lot of shouting, but not a lot of action.'
Tina wondered if soap operas were the most exciting thing in the woman's life, as she gently prompted her again to continue.
'I decided to watch Holby City afterwards. I don't always, it's a bit too gory for me, but I was bored so I left it switched on. My husband came back in when that had just got going, they'd done that recap bit at the beginning they always do and just got started with the story,' she said. 'I suppose that would make it about quarter past eight or so? I watched it till the end – such a nice man, that Sacha Levy – then I went to bed with my library book.'
'Did your husband go out again at any point, Mrs Jones?' Tina asked.
'I don't think so,' she said, 'but I wouldn't necessarily know for sure. We have separate rooms. Leslie gets so … ' she paused, looking at Steve and trying to find the right word, 'restless at night, it stops me sleeping.'
'You've been very helpful, Mrs Jones, thank you so much for your time,' Tina said as she rose. Steve blundered to his feet and she hoped he would managed to make it to the door without knocking anything over.
As they got back into the Mini, Steve said, 'Erm …' because he was never quite sure how he was meant to address Tina. It was all very informal amongst the team but he still felt a bit uncomfortable addressing her by her first name. 'I've had an idea.'
Tina looked at him and grinned, 'You mucky little beggar,' she said teasingly, watching him go bright red as usual, then taking pity on him. 'Go on, Steve, you're on a winning streak with your ideas. What's this one?'
'If we make a quick detour through town, I think we could chase up another lead while we're at it,' then cringed in further embarrassment as she laughed at his choice of words.
'Okay,' she said, 'let's do it. Tell me where you want me to drive to.'
What a difference a short stay in a police station made. When Ted resumed his questioning of Jones, still with Sal sitting in, the man had lost all of his earlier bluster. He looked as if he had shrunk in size and was scared out of his wits.
His own clothes had now been taken for forensic testing so he was wearing an all-in-one white coverall. His solicitor was with him again and had clearly instructed him to say as little as possible for now.
Ted began with a formal caution. 'You do not have to say anything. But it may harm your defence if you do not mention when questioned something which you later rely on in court. Anything you do say may be given in evidence.
'Mr Jones, did you ever have occasion to meet Vicki Carr, who was a customer at your bank?'
'No,' Jones told him. 'But then there are hundreds of customers I have never met.'
His solicitor gave him a warning look and shook his head slightly. He was obviously keen that Jones should restrict himself to answering questions in the simplest way possible, without sounding defensive.
'So when her name was released in the course of the press conference on the two cases, the name meant nothing to you?' Ted asked.
'Nothing at all,' Jones said, and this time resumed a tight-lipped silence.
'Tell me again about your movements on Tuesday evening,' Ted told him.
'I've told you, there is nothing more I can add,' Jones said. 'I was in the mood for sex. My wife no longer obliges on demand. I made an excuse to leave the house and went looking for a girl, a prostitute. I saw the girl Maggie very quickly. I'd been with her before. She was
… satisfactory.
'We drove round the corner, had very quick but for me very satisfying sex, in my car. I drove her back, paid her, dropped her off and drove away. She was alive and well when I left her. When I got home, my wife was watching that ridiculous hospital drama so I suppose it was shortly after eight o'clock.'
He was interrupted by a light knock at the door and Tina's head appeared. 'Sir, can I have a quick word?'
Ted left the room and found Tina and a very awkward-looking Steve, waiting outside.
'The wife's alibi for him checks out, sir, she says he got back about eight-fifteen,' Tina told him. 'I honestly doubt if she would have noticed if he'd got home still with his kecks around his ankles. Then Steve had one of his brainwaves.'
'You did?' Ted asked him.
Now red in the face, Steve said, 'Yes, sir. I thought while we were in town, we could call at the bistro and see if they knew Jones and if he had been in recently.'
'Did you have a photo of him to ID him by?' Ted asked in surprise.
'No, sir,' Tina told him, 'but this was Steve's bit of genius.' She gave the young TDC a friendly shove which nearly knocked him over. 'You tell him.'
Looking acutely embarrassed now, Steve muttered, 'We called in at the bank, sir, and I picked up some of their brochures. There was a picture of Mr Jones in it, part of their image of trying to be friendly and approachable.'
Tina cut in, clearly too excited to wait for Steve to stumble his way through the rest of the story. 'We took it to the bistro where Vicki Carr worked and hit the jackpot. Jones is well known there, he's a regular for meals and for drinks. So he could possibly have known Vicki Carr, at least by sight.'
Ted looked from one to the other, 'Steve,' he said, 'I think I love you.' Then added hastily at the young man's evident discomfort, 'in the best possible professional way, of course.'
He went back into the room and sat down. 'Mr Jones, in light of new information which I have just received, I have to tell you that you are now under suspicion of the murders of Vicki Carr and Maggie Fielding and will be held for further questioning. I would like to remind you again that you do not have to say anything. But it may harm your defence if you do not mention when questioned something which you later rely on in court. Anything you do say may be given in evidence.
'Is there anything you wish to say, Mr Jones?'
'I'm going to be sick,' Jones said, and promptly was, narrowly missing the desk and the voice recorder but still managing to splatter his solicitor's expensive Italian shoes.
Chapter Twenty-five
Trev was talking on his mobile phone in the kitchen when Ted got home. He put a hand over the mouthpiece and mouthed 'Willow'.
Ted moved in close enough to plant a kiss on Trev's cheek and to say, 'Hi Willow,' into the phone as Trev moved his hand, then headed for the kettle and his green tea. Although they now had a suspect in custody, Ted was still far from convinced it was the right man. But it was a start, at least.
'We're both really looking forward to it,' Trev was saying into his phone. 'Come about twelve, time for drinky-poos before we eat. It's very informal, and no paper hats allowed.' He laughed. 'You too, sweetie, love you, bye.'
As he rang off, he moved over to Ted to return the kiss and to ask, 'Are you sure you don't mind about Willow coming on Christmas Day?'
'Of course not,' Ted assured him. 'It'll be nice and I promise not to feel like a gooseberry between you two new Best Friends Forever,' he added teasingly. Then he went on, 'We have a suspect in custody now. I'm not a hundred per cent convinced but it's a start. So do you fancy doing something at the weekend? Take the bike, take a picnic, go and blow a few cobwebs away?'
'Not Saddleworth,' Trev said emphatically. When difficult cases made him particularly maudlin, Ted would often go up to the moors and tramp about, acutely aware that one of the Moors Murders victims at least was still there and had never been brought home.
Little Keith Bennett's body had been up on that windswept and desolate landscape since 1964, possibly with other bodies of missing children. Ted would go from time to time to motivate himself to do his utmost to ensure that missing youngsters on his patch were returned safely to their homes.
'No, not Saddleworth,' Ted agreed, 'I was thinking more of Kinder Scout.'
Trev smiled and hugged him. 'Soppy thing,' he smiled.
Kinder Scout had been their first real date. The two had originally met when Trev was nineteen and joined the same judo club as Ted. He had his brown belt and was training hard for his black. As he wanted to work on technique and no one in the club had the edge on Ted for precision, Bernard teamed them up for training, week after week.
Trev was a diligent pupil, learning fast, a sponge for new knowledge, and Ted was a good teacher. From the first time he saw those incredible blue eyes, he was utterly smitten but remained detached and professional.
Every week after training, once they were showered and changed, Trev would pick Ted's brains on more and more detail, asking for further explanation of throws and holds, always eager to learn. Gaining his black belt should be a foregone conclusion but he also wanted to work his way up through the next levels to at least match Ted's black belt second dan. And always after their discussions, Ted would turn away and go home alone.
After a few weeks, as Ted was turning to go, Trev said, 'Well, if you're not going to ask me, I'll just have to ask you. Will you come for a drink with me?'
Ted was staggered. His gaydar was accurate enough as a rule, but he couldn't imagine why such an attractive younger man was showing any interest in him. Ted had had a long succession of brief and unsatisfactory relationships, but had never found anyone who intrigued him as much as Trev did.
The drink together was excruciatingly uncomfortable. Ted was on pins the whole time, totally unable to relax. He felt as if an exotic bird had landed on the table in his garden and if he made the slightest wrong move, it would fly away, never to be seen again.
Before they parted, though, Ted plucked up the courage to ask Trev if he liked hill walking and if he fancied joining him at the weekend for the circular walk from Edale up Jacob's Ladder to Kinder Scout, with a picnic by the Kinder Downfall waterfall.
It had been a bitterly cold winter's day, cold enough to ensure that no one else was foolish enough to be out picnicking in the wind. As they sat huddled together, partly sheltered by rocks, they finally relaxed enough to share their life stories.
Trev's parents had been ultra-religious and utterly appalled when their brilliant, academically gifted son had come out as gay at the age of fifteen. They reacted by throwing him out and refusing ever to see him again.
Luckily, Trev had a far more relaxed arty, hippy aunt who took him in, looked after him, supported him in everything he did and loved him unquestioningly and unreservedly, until she was killed in a road accident just as Trev turned eighteen.
The aunt was not wealthy, her house was rented, she had few savings, but what she had, she left to Trev. He used it to fund a gap year to the Far East, earning his keep by teaching English as a Foreign Language, and taking the opportunity to take up martial arts, flying effortlessly through gradings.
Trev had been accumulating A Levels since the age of twelve and had a frightening array of them in languages and sciences, all at the highest level. Both Oxford and Cambridge had already made overtures to him. He also told Ted that he had had an interesting visit from two men in suits, proposing a career which had not previously occurred to him.
By the time he returned home from his trip, at nineteen years old, Trev was still undecided in which direction his life and future career would take him. Then he met Ted.
If Trev had ever sat down to draw up a list of the least suitable future life partner he could imagine, he would have been hard put to outdo a short, older copper with no dress sense and a shed-load of angst and self-doubt.
He was under no illusion about how difficult such a relationship would be, not just because of the hours involved in Ted
's work, but also the considerable amount of homophobic prejudice which still existed in his profession.
But somehow here Trev was, sitting at the top of a thirty-metre waterfall, sharing green tea from a battered stainless steel flask, with this intensely complex man and somehow not wanting the moment to end.
They shared no more than one hesitant and tender kiss, on top of Kinder Scout, after which Ted pulled away as if terrified he had moved too fast.
They started to see a lot more of each other, not just at the dojo but going out for drinks or a meal, long walks in the Peak District, sometimes venturing further afield to Snowdonia, but never staying over.
Trev shared a flat with two students but Ted rented the ground floor of a small house in Offerton. He had the advantage of rights to the back garden, in which his green-fingered skills were confined entirely to growing fragrant oriental lilies in pots.
Ted was a competent if not particularly inspired cook. They ate a lot of chilli con carne. Trev was a brilliant cook but he was so afraid of shaking Ted's already precarious confidence, he never once offered to cook in the early days.
They spent a lot of time together, just getting to know one another. Ted learned to share Trev's enthusiasm for Queen and heard with surprise of his passion for cats. The aunt had owned a beloved Siamese cross and it was in fact the cat which had indirectly caused her death. She'd looked out of her front window to see a lifeless little chocolate point form lying in the road and rushed straight out, oblivious to her own safety and to the car coming towards her at slightly more than the speed limit.
Ted and Trev had several weeks of taking things so slowly it was driving Trev insane. After a slightly more adventurous meal of Thai green curry, Trev said, ' Before you show me your stamp collection or get your train set out, I just have one simple question to ask you. When are you going to take me to bed?'
So Ted did. And the rest, as they say, was history.
Chapter Twenty-six
