by L M Krier
He pushed the file across the desk to Ted, who glanced at the details on the cover. He did remember the case. A middle-aged man with learning difficulties, living on his own and managing, just about. The butt of a lot of teasing and name-calling locally, especially from children, for some of his eccentric habits. He'd had a huge collection of garden gnomes in front of his home, which had singled him out as something of a target.
One evening, as he was eating his supper in front of the television, someone put a lighted firework through his letterbox. By the time he'd reacted, it was too late to get out and he had died in his burning ground-floor flat.
Extensive enquiries had led them nowhere, only to the assumption that local children had been playing a particularly unkind trick on him which had gone tragically wrong.
Ted's desk phone rang just as Maurice was leaving. Bill, on the front desk.
'Does Rob O'Connell know you have a date with his fiancée? Only she's down here, waiting for you.'
Ted went down to meet Sally and get her signed in. She was clearly on duty, in the uniform of an RSPCA inspector. He showed her up to his office and invited her to take a seat. She had a briefcase with her, which she put down and opened, taking out several files which she placed on the desk in front of her.
'Tea? Coffee?'
Ted topped his own tea up while he had the kettle on and made the 'coffee, black, as strong as you like' which Sally asked for. That, too, filled him with a sense of foreboding.
'We've been keeping a tight lid on these cases,' Sally began, taking a sip of her coffee. 'We're investigating them, of course, but we don't want the information to get out for fear of it giving someone else the same sort of sick ideas.'
She started opening the files, pushing them towards Ted. He thought he was hardened to most things, handling the kind of murder cases he did. But these were a whole new level for him. What he was looking at appeared to be systematic animal torture, pure and simple.
'How long has this been going on?'
'About five years, and each one seems to get worse than the previous one. You can see from the photos. Not many cases, mercifully, but they are grotesque. Really sick. They're the worst I've seen yet in this job. Our own theory is that this is someone who's experimenting, almost testing themselves to see how far they can go, what they're capable of.
'Ted, I really hope that this is in no way connected with your current enquiries. Because if it is, you're dealing with a seriously disturbed individual, someone who appears to have absolutely no concept of the boundaries between right and wrong.'
Chapter Eleven
It was late afternoon before Ted got a call from Jo to say the potential suspect, Jake Dolan, had been brought into the station at South Manchester for questioning.
'Youth Justice Team?'
'Someone's on their way now, boss. We're waiting for someone to arrive before we start questioning him. He's been offered refreshment while he waits. All by the book and above board.'
'I know you can handle it standing on your head, Jo, but I think I'll come over myself. I'd like to work with DC Eccles a bit, see what we can do with him, or if he really is a lost cause. Tell him to be ready to sit in with me for the interview. If Leona is happy to carry on without you, why don't you and Sal come back here to wind things up while I come up there and see what we can get out of this young lad? What's he like?'
'Small, skinny and the dad in me would have said scared rather than aggressive, but you can never tell. We've not yet told him why he's been brought in.'
'Good, keep it that way until I get there, please. If the YJT representative is wanting answers, just say we think he might have been witness to an incident we're investigating. Although I'm sure they can both put two and two together if they've seen the press and TV coverage.'
Ted smiled to himself as he steered his own car back north of the Mersey. Small, skinny and scared about summed up a lot of his younger years, until his dad had paid for the martial arts lessons which put an end to all kinds of bullying and abuse. Now Ted wasn't scared of much. Except dogs. He was definitely scared of dogs and now, at least, he finally knew why.
He passed Jo and Sal on the way, exchanging a wave and a flash of headlights. Once Ted arrived, he went to find DC Eccles and led the way into what had been the old DI's office before the team was drastically reduced. He wanted a pre-interview briefing with him, so he could make it clear what his role was to be.
'I want you to sit quietly and observe, please. Say nothing. Just give me your thoughts afterwards. I also need you to pay attention to your own body language. No scowling at him, nothing aggressive. No folded arms. You can lean forward slightly, arms on the table, but I don't want anything which could be interpreted as threatening.'
Eccles didn't quite roll his eyes and sigh but Ted could tell that he would have liked to. He was clearly not used to the gentle approach in handling suspects. Ted found it often worked well for him. There was nothing intimidating about Ted, with his small height, slight stature, and quiet, level way of speaking. His appearance often encouraged both suspects and hostile witnesses to say more than they had intended to.
There was a young woman sitting next to their suspect when the two officers entered the room. Ted introduced the two of them to the suspect, Jake Dolan, and to the woman from the Youth Justice Team. He wanted this interview to be text book, for Eccles' benefit. So he began by cautioning the youth, mentioning only the lesser charge of theft, without going into specifics, and set the tapes running.
Jo was right in his description. Small, skinny and scared about summed up the youth sitting opposite them. But he certainly had some spark, as he sneered, 'Darlin'? What sort of a poncey name is that?'
Ted smiled at him. He found it was disarming, something unexpected, which often caught a suspect off balance.
'It's my name and I make the best of it, although it always takes some explaining. Now, Jake, you've been brought here because I want to ask you a few questions. Can you tell me where you were on Wednesday morning?'
'I didn't do it.'
'What didn't you do?'
'Whatever it is you lot are trying to fit me up for this time. I didn't do it last time but the filth still tried to fit me up. And whatever it is this time, I didn't do it neither.'
'If you could tell me where you were on Wednesday morning, that might just help with our enquiries. And it would mean that we could let you go much sooner.'
'Morning? I was in bed, innit. No point getting up when I got nothing to get up for.'
'Can anyone confirm that? Your mother, perhaps?'
'Fuck, no, she were off her face, as usual. There's no one else, just me and her.'
'Jake, I'm an old-fashioned sort. I'm not keen on swearing, especially in front of ladies. No offence,' he added to the woman opposite in case she took it as sexist or patronising. Instead, she smiled at him, pleasantly surprised by his attitude.
'So, Jake, you have no alibi for Wednesday morning?'
'Don't need none. I didn't do nothing. So now I suppose you lot will just knock me about until I confess to summat I never did, like you did last time.'
He was glaring directly at Eccles now. The officer shifted in his seat and opened his mouth to speak, but Ted held up a hand to silence him.
'Jake, let me get this straight. Are you accusing this officer of assaulting you on a previous occasion?'
The youth continued to stare hard at the DC opposite him, then he said, 'Nah, not him. It were another pig. A tall one. He slapped me about a bit, trying to get me to say I bottled someone. But I never.'
DC Coombs, Ted thought to himself. The ringleader when it had come to rough stuff in the old team. He wasn't surprised.
'Thank you, Jake, I appreciate your honesty. So, back to Wednesday morning. You may have heard that an old lady was robbed and killed.'
'That weren't me neither. I don't rob no old codgers. They ain't got enough money to be worth it.'
'How do you make a living,
Jake? Are you on benefits? Jobseekers?'
'You must be kidding, mate. Waste of time. There's naff all work round here for the likes of me. An' I ain't going down the Job Centre for some snotty piece to 'ave a go at me if I'm two minutes late for an interview.'
'So what is your source of income? You must have financial support of some sort?'
'This an' that,' he said evasively. 'I ain't tellin' you about most of it. I'm not saying it's all on the level. But I don't rob no old folk, and I never shoved an old granny in front of a bus, like they said on the telly someone did.'
'Do you like animals, Jake?'
Ted's sudden complete change of direction seemed to confuse the youth for a moment. He looked warily at Ted, trying to work out what hidden meaning there was behind the question. His face was pale and thin. He looked as if a few square meals would do him some good. He looked even smaller in his oversized hoody and baggy jeans. He shrugged, his expression wary.
'I like dogs, as it goes. I make a few quid sometimes, road walking some greyhounds for a trainer a mate of mine knows.'
'And you've no alibi at all for Wednesday morning?'
'Don't need one,' the youth repeated defiantly. 'I didn't do nothing, and I don't have to prove that. You have to prove that I did.'
Ted looked down at his notebook, where he'd made a few jottings, to hide a smile. He quite liked this cocky kid; he had something about him.
'In which case, thank you for coming in to talk to us, but you're free to go now. We may want to question you further at some point. And Jake, things have changed at this station now. I'm in charge, and no suspect ever gets slapped by a police officer under my command, I promise you.
'Here's my card.' He slid one across the table as he spoke. 'If you remember anything about Wednesday, or you hear anything that might help us, please feel free to call me at any time. And before you say it, I know you're not a grass. It's just that expect you don't think much to someone who would kill an elderly person in such a callous way. You don't strike me as the type.'
Dolan was studying Ted's card in detail. Given his lack of formal education, Ted wondered if he had literacy problems. He looked up at Ted's final words, surprise on his face and something like a smile flickering there for an instant. Ted noticed that his eyes were a vivid green, like a cat's. Another reason for him to be singled out as different.
He looked almost pleased at the words, but he hid the fact behind a sneer as he said, 'Darlin', though, eh? Bloody silly name.'
Ted stood up, shook hands with the woman from YJT, then led the way back upstairs, heading for the rest room.
'Right, Charlie, let's you and me have a debrief over a cuppa,' he said, surprising Eccles with the informality, then surprising him further by asking, 'I'm brewing up, so what's your poison?'
'Tea. NATO standard. Thanks.'
'Ex-forces?' Ted asked him conversationally as he made tea for them both.
'Army brat. My dad was in the Engineers. We moved about a lot.'
As he said it, the DC wondered why he was telling stuff about his personal life to the bloke he had been determined from the start not to like, and not just because of his sexuality, which was an open secret.
Ted put the mugs of tea on the table and the two men sat down facing one another.
'Tell me what you think of young Jake. Did he do it, do you think?'
'Definitely, I'd say. He's got the form, he's got no alibi.'
'Now I'd have to disagree with you there, for two reasons. The form isn't proven. As for the alibi. Well, Jake might not have had much schooling, but he's smart. Streetwise. If he really had killed Mrs Murray, and he knew from the telly that the police were looking for someone whose description matched him, don't you think he would have made sure he had an alibi? Even if he's a loner, he must know someone he could have persuaded to lie for him.
'And there's another thing. I think he's basically pretty honest.'
Eccles' eyes widened and he opened his mouth to protest.
'Hear me out,' Ted told him. 'He had the perfect opportunity, back there, to drop you right in it. He could have claimed you assaulted him. It would have been his word against yours, and I would have been obliged to pass the allegation on to Complaints. He strikes me as sharp enough to know that, too. You've already had an encounter with DSU Fletcher, so you know that being interviewed by him is not a pleasant prospect.'
The DC shifted uncomfortably in his chair at the memory of being questioned by the ex-Guardsman head of Complaints and Discipline.
'So why let you off the hook that easily? Why not lie, say you hit him, and take the pressure off himself for a time? Tell me what you see when you look at him.'
Again, Eccles looked surprised by Ted's methods.
'I see a typical little thug. Hard case. Cocky. Aggressive.'
'I see a scared little lad who's used to being bullied so hides it behind that attitude. D'you know how I spend my Wednesday evenings, Charlie?'
Now the DC's look was almost of horror. He had a bad feeling the DCI was suddenly going to share some intimate detail of his personal life, which Charlie definitely neither wanted nor needed to know.
'My partner and I teach self defence to young kids just like Jake. The ones who get bullied at school and wherever else they go. We teach them some martial arts basics, show them how to look after themselves. Give them some self-confidence which helps boost their self-esteem. I see the same fear in Jake that I see in those kids when they first start coming to the club.'
The DC gave a cynical grunt.
'I bet you a tenner he did it.'
'It wouldn't be appropriate to be gambling on a potential suspect in a case. But I'll tell you what. If you're right, I'll buy you a pint. If I'm right, you owe me a drink. You won't be surprised to hear that I drink ginger beer.'
Ted drained his tea and stood up to go.
'When did you last do any update training on interview techniques, Charlie? Cognitive interviewing, for example?'
This time there was a snort of derision.
'All that new-fangled stuff? It was never the boss's thing so none of us did it.'
Ted wanted to say that it showed, but didn't. He hadn't yet given up on DC Eccles.
'I want to talk to the driver again tomorrow. There are some techniques which might help him to remember more than he has done so far. More than he might realise that he knows. I'd like to explore those with him. I'd also like you to sit in on that interview. It might be helpful for you.
'Can you please contact him and set up an interview, here, if he doesn't mind, sometime tomorrow. Then give me a ring and let me know what time. See you tomorrow, Charlie.'
DC Eccles surprised himself still further by responding, 'See you, boss,' which had Ted smiling to himself as he went out to his car.
Having interviewed Jake Dolan, Ted didn't for a moment think he was guilty, but he couldn't go off his instinct alone. When he got back to his office, he went through all the phone calls from witnesses claiming to have recognised him or those saying it sounded like the sort of thing he would do, the transcripts of which he'd had emailed to himself. Some were anonymous, inevitably, some could well be rival small-time skunk dealers. Even small fry like Jake could pull trade away from other dealers and they might see the appeal for information as a golden opportunity to get him off their patch.
He also went carefully through every witness account and every description they had received about the person who had pushed the elderly woman off the pavement. It didn't amount to much. Short, slightly built, male, youthful, wearing a hoody with the hood up and, from varying accounts, either jeans or tracksuit bottoms. Significantly, all the witnesses mentioned the hood and there was not one who was able to state the skin colour of the assailant.
The bus driver, or one of the passengers, would have been the most likely by far to have got a glimpse of the face under the hood. Ted had a trick or two up his sleeve which he intended to try the following day on the driver, to see if he
could help him to jog his memory, without leading him in any way.
The rest of the team had gone home for the evening, so Ted took advantage of the quiet to go over the notes of any new developments in the Tyler Bradbury case. There were precious few of those, either. They desperately needed a break to advance their ongoing cases.
Ted only realised how late it had got when DC Eccles phoned him to say that he had arranged for the bus driver to be at the South Manchester station at ten o'clock the next day. Ted thanked him, noticing the time showing on his mobile phone, and knew he was in for yet another a hard time from the cats when he got home. He'd left them with plenty of food, as usual, but they were used to Trev's more regular hours and would be demanding attention. He knew he could ask his mother to go round to see to them at any time, but he didn't like to impose.
Queen, the senior cat, was sitting in the middle of the kitchen table, glaring reproachfully at him when he got in. The rest were milling around the floor, pointedly ignoring several bowls still full of the morning's offering of dry food.
Ted carefully side-stepped the headless body of what might have been a mouse, dumped in the middle of the kitchen floor, and went in search of clean bowls and pouches of tasty morsels in sauce.
'Sorry, everyone, but you really aren't starving. Far from it. Stop looking at me like that. I miss him, too, you know. And Brian, is that you leaving bodies about again? What have I told you?'
Only after all six cats had been stroked, fussed and fed did Ted start sorting out heating up his leftovers from the day before. The microwave had just pinged when his mobile phone went again. The call he was eagerly awaiting. Trev.
'Hey, you.' Trev's voice sounded happy, full of laughter, and something else besides. There was loud music and lots of noise in the background.
'Are you having a good time?'
'Blissful!'
Ted smiled indulgently. He knew his partner so well he could detect the slightest change in the timbre of his voice.
'And are you stoned?'
A great shout of laughter.
