by Graham Smith
She ducked under low branches as she wound her way between the trees. The soft carpeting of pine needles felt greasy beneath her feet, but she powered on.
The gap between them was less than ten yards when Beth’s foot slipped on a tree root. She didn’t fall, but it took her several paces to recover from the stumble.
Gracie wasn’t looking back at her; his entire focus was on getting away. Beth watched as he emerged from the trees and crossed one of the pathways. A family cycling along the path stopped to watch the man who’d dashed in front of them; their presence creating a ten-foot-wide barrier of bicycles and Lycra.
Beth cut behind them lest they set off to continue their journey. Her breaths might have been coming in pained gasps, but she could feel her stubbornness kicking in and knew that there was no way she could let Gracie escape. She pumped her legs and arms in a steady rhythm as she chased after him. Every time he altered course to skirt an obstacle she was able to gain a few inches on him by taking a straighter line.
He burst out of the treeline into an area where there were picnic tables. At this hour the tables were empty, but beyond the picnic tables, children were playing in a woodland adventure fort, while their parents sat on benches and watched over them.
Gracie rounded a picnic table and went to dash past the woodland fort. Beth was only two yards behind him now and closing.
Ahead of them was a cycle shack where the visiting families could hire bikes to carry them around the holiday park. Beth knew that if Gracie got on a cycle he’d get away. She was almost close enough to grab the back of his overalls when he glanced over his shoulder.
Beth saw the surprise in his eyes that she was so close. He put on an extra burst of speed which opened the gap.
As much as her lungs were burning from the sprint, Beth matched his burst and once again closed in. A slope led down to where rows of bikes were arranged ready for hire, and with Gracie almost in reach of them, Beth threw herself down the gradient after him.
Her legs couldn’t keep up with her upper body’s momentum so Beth allowed herself to topple forward. She wrapped her arms around Gracie’s waist and let the weight of her body slow his pace.
As he slowed, she let her grip loosen and slid down his body until her arms were at his knees. She tensed her muscles and squeezed his legs into her body. As rugby tackles go, it wasn’t the greatest ever performed, but it brought Gracie down, which was all that mattered.
He writhed and flailed at her as he squirmed round so he was facing her, his arms throwing punches towards her head as he kicked to be free. Her ear rang as he landed a blow on it and a punch split her eyebrow causing blood to trickle down her face. She hung tight until one of his blows hit her shoulder. She didn’t know whether it pinched a nerve or landed on a pressure point, but a bolt of fire seemed to explode down her arm.
With her grip on him loosened a little, Gracie’s writhing started to bear fruit and he was managing to wriggle free. She couldn’t allow this to happen, so she reared over him and then slumped her body forward as her good arm bent back so she could retrieve the collapsible baton from her pocket.
Beth could feel the gasps of air from Gracie’s mouth on her face, could smell his rank smoky breath and hear his curses. As she struggled to free the collapsible baton from her pocket, she felt his arms move between them. She butted her head forward and burst his nose, but Gracie didn’t react to the blow. Between them she could feel his hands press against her body as he tried to lift her away so he could get free.
Beth was in the throes of flicking the baton so it would extend when one hand grabbed at her breast. Gracie didn’t try and push her off, instead he dug his fingers into her and squeezed her flesh, twisting his hand as he fought her off.
‘You like that, don’t you, bitch?’
O’Dowd’s voice roared across the morning air. ‘Hoy, you flaming pervert.’
Beth reared back with Gracie’s hand still clutching her breast. The collapsible baton in her hand swung towards his forearm. A dull crack and her breast was released. A second swing, harder this time, landed on the inside of his right elbow. He yelped and released his grip of her entirely.
With her left arm now working better, Beth fished out her handcuffs and slipped them over Gracie’s wrists. She wasn’t sure if she’d broken his arm with her first blow and she wasn’t particularly bothered. So far as she was concerned, Gracie deserved everything he got.
O’Dowd arrived and bent over them, hands on knees as she fought to get her breath back and a sheen of sweat covering her forehead. When she spoke it was between huffed breaths.
‘You must be one of the stupidest men I’ve ever met. I have just witnessed you physically and sexually assaulting a police officer while resisting arrest. I suggest that you be a good boy from now on, otherwise I’m going to give in to the temptation to revisit the days when police brutality was an everyday occurrence.’
O’Dowd turned her gaze to Beth. ‘Read him his rights and make sure that you include every possible offence that you can think of, and if you can think of a way to do him for being a vile and smelly bastard who’s such a perverted loser that the only way he can get physical contact with a woman is to molest his arresting officer, well, do him for that an’ all.’
Beth did as she was told and named all the offences Gracie had committed along with the suspicion of four counts of rape and murder.
Her breast stung from where he’d grabbed it and as much as she wanted to pass his groping off as part of the job, she knew that she would have to report the assault in full. The thought of having the police doctor examine her, and if there was bruising, take pictures for evidence, chilled her, but not only was it part of the due process, there was no way her conscience would allow her to lie and say she was unhurt and didn’t need any attention. She’d been sexually assaulted and while it wasn’t anything like as bad as it could have been, she would be a fraud if she didn’t report a sexual assault against her while planning to front a rape charity that urged victims to report their own experiences.
There was also the question of how she’d discuss this all with O’Dowd. The DI had been adamant that they didn’t need Thompson and Unthank or some uniforms to help them arrest Gracie, yet because of O’Dowd’s insistence on grabbing the glory, the suspect had nearly got away and the whole mess of the assault had happened.
It was poor decision-making at best and incompetence at worst. This case was too important to mess around and try to score points with the top brass.
Forty-Five
O’Dowd went through the names of those present and the litany of charges against Gracie while the man in question sat mute. Beside him was a duty solicitor. Bob Lewis was an affable person but a poor solicitor. A capable man, he gave what advice he could and did no more. He was a realist, and if his client was playing silly beggars, he’d tell them as much and then do the bare minimum necessary to protect them.
If given the choice, every detective in the county would want him sitting beside their suspects as he rarely went out of his way to put up a strong defence. On the other hand, if he had a genuine belief that his client was innocent, or the victim of unfounded allegations, then he’d be tenacious and would argue every point, however minor.
‘First let me say, that my client denies the sexual assault on DC Young. He was merely resisting arrest at the time. This he will plead guilty to.’
The bored tone in the solicitor’s voice pleased Beth. It meant he wasn’t interested in this case and therefore wouldn’t put up too much of a fight.
‘Of course he’s pleading guilty to that, it’d be impossible for him to wriggle off that hook. For the record, DC Young has been examined by a police doctor and the injuries to her chest have been recorded. I’ve also given a written statement about what I witnessed. Mr Gracie will be in court for that assault one day soon. It’s a dab on and you know it. As we’re involved in that crime, we won’t be the ones to investigate it; that’ll be done by another team. Fortuna
tely, we have experts in such matters.’ O’Dowd licked her lips as she stared at Lewis. ‘I know you’re using today’s events as a stalling tactic, that you’re trying to deflect from the reason we had an arrest warrant for Gracie.’
‘Really, Inspector, do you think I consider you so foolish as to fall for such an obvious tactic?’
Beth cut in before O’Dowd and Lewis could develop the bickering into a spat. ‘It doesn’t matter what we think your opinion of us is. Mr Gracie was in the vicinity of an abduction which resulted in a violent rape and murder. He gave a statement to the police investigating the original abduction.’
‘There’s nothing wrong with that. He was being a good citizen.’
‘Indeed he was. His statement was that he didn’t see anything. However, he did chat about birdwatching with the officer who took his statement.’
‘So he shared a common interest with someone. I see no reason to accuse him of multiple rapes and murders.’
Beth wanted to massage the pain in her breast away but there was no way she was going to do so in front of Gracie. To prevent her subconscious from stepping in she laid her hands on the table.
‘Mr Gracie may or may not remember the conversation, but the officer he spoke to recorded it.’ Beth shifted her focus from Lewis to Gracie. ‘You recommended some good birdwatching sites to him. I still have his notes. The bodies of Christine Peterson, Joanne Armstrong and Harriet Quantrell were dumped at Barrow beach, Buttermere and Rockcliffe Marsh respectively. During Sunday night, Felicia Evans’s body was dumped at the side of Lake Ullswater. Every one of those locations was on the list of places you recommended.’
‘So I happen to know Cumbria, that’s not a crime. I have never killed or raped anyone. This is a coincidence and nothing more. Tell me, how many places were on that list?’
‘Nine.’ Beth didn’t like the conviction in Gracie’s voice. He didn’t sound defensive or afraid, to her he had the tone of someone who believed their innocence would be proven.
‘You mentioned four names. That’s slightly more than one third of the places my client suggested to one of your colleagues. I’d hardly call that conclusive, would you?’
‘Perhaps indicative would be a better word than conclusive.’ Beth folded her right arm over her chest and pressed inwards as she scratched an imaginary itch on her neck. The action relieving a spike of pain in her chest. ‘And your maths is off if you think four places out of nine is only slightly more than a third, because I make it almost a half.’
‘These places that were mentioned. Were they out of the way locations or had you heard of them yourself?’
Beth didn’t like the way that Lewis was perking up. He was paying more interest to the case and it was only a matter of time before he’d be giving his best efforts to protect Gracie. His question was a good one that needed to be answered with care.
‘I’d heard of most of them, although if I’m honest with you, I’ve only been to about half the locations mentioned.’
‘I see. Had you heard of the deposition sites before investigating this case?’
This question was even tougher to answer than the previous one. The lawyer would be proud of this question, because if Beth said no, it would make it seem as if she didn’t know the area she was paid to police, whereas if she said yes, Lewis would undoubtedly pounce and claim the deposition sites were well known to locals and that they would have to produce evidence tying Gracie to the crimes or release him.
‘Mr Lewis, I think you’re rather forgetting how this works.’ O’Dowd’s voice was soft, but there was no mistaking the steel in her tone. ‘We ask the questions, not you.’
‘Then ask a question, but you better have evidence to back up your claims because this is seeming more and more like a fishing trip than a proper interview.’
O’Dowd was right back, asking Gracie to account for his whereabouts on the dates the first three women were abducted.
Gracie’s tone was apologetic with a hint of condescension. ‘I’m sorry, but I can’t remember where I was on any of those dates. They were years ago.’
‘Fair enough. What about Sunday night? Can you remember where you were then?’
‘I was at home. Watched a bit of telly and then went to bed.’ A cocky grin. ‘Wanted to get a good night’s kip ready for work.’
‘Okay. Was there anyone with you to verify what you’re telling us?’
‘Nah. Just me.’
‘Perhaps you can tell us about the time you were beaten up. If my memory serves me right, the man who beat you up alleged that you were stalking his wife.’ Beth was trying to get the interview back on track, but the way it was going suggested that Lewis was digging in on Gracie’s side. ‘We also have to consider the occasions you were arrested for spying on ladies as they undressed and the warnings you received.’
‘I fail to see what relevance that bears to this investigation. Any previous offences my client may have committed should not be considered as they were dealt with at the times in question.’
Beth gave the solicitor a tight smile. ‘Nice try, Mr Lewis. We’re investigating four instances of a sexual crime that escalated to murder. Your client has a history of voyeurism. That’s one red flag. Your client was accused of stalking. That’s another red flag. The way he assaulted me when I arrested him is another red flag. Mr Gracie has shown a progression in his deviations, and because of this, any first-year psychology student would be worried about what he may do next. As a police officer, it’s my job to know about such things and, quite frankly, your client fits the profile of the person we’re looking for. Yes, he may pretend to use his binoculars to watch wagtails and terns, but I reckon it’s a different kind of bird altogether that he prefers to watch.’
‘You’re mistaken, but I can understand your thinking. I haven’t murdered anyone and I have never raped anyone. I’m innocent of those crimes and, as such, you’re wasting your time accusing me of them. I hope that you catch the person who’s really behind the rapes and murders, before he strikes again.’
O’Dowd leaned across the table and glared at Gracie. ‘Maybe we’ve already got him. Maybe I’m looking at him now.’
When O’Dowd reached for the switches that controlled the recording equipment, Beth stopped her before she could suspend the interview.
‘There’s something that’s puzzling me, Mr Gracie. Why did you run when you found out who we were? For all you knew, we could have been there to inform you of a family member’s death. Yet you ran away before you knew what we wanted to speak to you about. That speaks of guilt to me and now I’m wondering what you’ve done that made you run away. Would you care to tell us?’
‘No comment.’
Forty-Six
The terraced cottage where Gracie lived was even worse than Beth had anticipated it would be. Every room stunk of cigarette smoke and had a yellowed ceiling. While not massively untidy, there was a thick layer of dust on all of the unused surfaces and the kitchen sink was loaded with unwashed dishes. There were no books on the lounge’s bookshelf and most of the DVDs she found were X-rated. Unthank had braved the bathroom and bedroom, but had lasted only a few seconds in each before he ran through the cottage opening all the windows.
‘See anything, Paul?’
‘He’s got an industrial-quantity of wank mags by his bed, and when I leafed through one or two, I found that they were all proper hardcore images.’
‘Dirty old perv.’
‘You don’t know the half of it, Beth. There were a lot of images of anal sex.’
Beth couldn’t help but give a fist pump. The content of the magazines may well be nothing more than circumstantial, but it was still damning enough to help them build their case.
‘What do you call a man with a slow cooker?’
Beth knew the answer right away. ‘Stu.’
Unthank returned her smile. ‘What have you found?’
‘His basic household paperwork.’ Beth lifted a paper folder from a drawer. ‘His insuranc
e documents, driving licence and bank statements.’ She flicked through a few more envelopes. ‘Oh, and his passport.’
‘Have you looked at this?’ Unthank pointed to a laptop that was on the coffee table.
‘Not yet. It’ll probably be password protected. I was gonna bag it and let Digital Forensics have it.’
‘I think I’ll take a look first. Maybe let some of the smell out of the bedroom before I give it a proper search.’
‘Suit yourself.’
Beth left Unthank to deal with the laptop while she worked her way through Gracie’s paperwork. It was all standard and seemed to be in order. The fact Gracie drove a van piqued her interests as well as her suspicions. She’d thought all along that the Lakeland Ripper may well use a van to transport his victims around unseen and here was their prime suspect, a van owner.
It seemed too good to be true. It was as she was leafing through Gracie’s passport, that she found out it was.
‘Get in. Got you, you sick fucking bastard.’
Unthank wasn’t one to swear and the vehemence in the way he’d hissed the profanities told Beth that he’d unearthed something of significance.
‘What have you found?’
‘Rape porn. The sick bastard has viewed hundreds of videos. I looked at a couple and some of the women don’t look anything like they’re eighteen. The cocky sod never even passworded his computer or bothered to delete his browsing history. It goes back a couple of years. We’ve got him, Beth, we can nail his arse to the wall with what’s on here. We’ve got the killer.’
‘No, we haven’t.’
‘What? What do you mean, we haven’t got him?’
Beth held up Gracie’s passport and gave Unthank a look at the page she’d bookmarked with her finger.
‘Fuck.’
‘Agreed.’
Tom Gracie may have been guilty of lots of sex offences, but he wasn’t the Lakeland Ripper. His passport showed him as having been in Thailand during the time when Joanne Armstrong had been abducted and then found dead in the woods near Buttermere.
