by Jason De'Ath
“The important thing is, you did, and now you can help catch this man, before he hurts anyone else.” “Did you find the car?”
“Yes, that has been recovered. We’re trying to match fingerprints, but...”
“Don’t bother.”
“Why not?”
“He was wearing gloves all the time... Even when...You know.”
“You’re sure he never took them off?”
“Yes, I think so.”
The doctor re-entered the room: “If you have enough to be going on with, detective, I would like Miss Fable to get some sleep now. Perhaps you could come back tomorrow – late morning?”
“Yes, I think I have enough to make a start... Keep thinking, Vera: I know you desperately want to forget, but I need you to remember as much as possible.” Vera nodded. “I’ll be back tomorrow – about eleven, if that’s okay with you both?” Vera and the doctor accorded, “It’s been an honour to meet you Miss Fable.” said Ackroyd with sincerity as he left the room.
Chapter Eight
(2 August 1965)
Monday morning was a hectic affair for DSupt Ackroyd: he had been in the station since 6 AM preparing a press release giving more details of the case and, most importantly, a new description of the assailant to replace the slightly erroneous original given in the Sunday papers. He also had to prepare for an 8.30 AM briefing with his investigation team. DS Cambridge had arrived at 7 AM to assist him. Cambridge was a large man, 6 foot 2 inches and well-built; but despite his imposing image, he was archetypical nice guy – do anything for anyone. The men had nothing but respect for him, but looking the way he did and having the name of Edward meant that he was inevitably known as ‘Teddy’ by everyone, a title he had lived with all his life. He towered over the diminutive Ackroyd, making for an excellent body-guard for the Superintendent.
At 8.30 AM the men assembled in the briefing room: it was the usual rowdy affair, until DS Cambridge settled them all down ready for Ackroyd.
“Good morning, men.” started Ackroyd, “As you all know we’ve got ourselves a big case on our hands and there’s pressure from the top to get it solved quick. Remember: if I get flak from the Chief, you lot will get flak from me. For those of you who haven’t read the papers, I’ve prepared an overview of the case so far – it’s on the board over there. I suggest you all read it before you go out today. This is the new description of the perpetrator.” Ackroyd pointed to the blackboard. “You should all make a note of that.” Ackroyd gave them a minute to digest this. “Okay boys: what we have on our hands is a joker who kills in cold-blood, rapes an innocent girl and then chases her down in a wood like an animal, where he tries to shoot her dead – thankfully, he failed. I shall be returning to the hospital later to continue my interview with Miss Fable; I think she’s got a lot more for us, yet. But, right now, we need to get out there and round up any likely candidates. I’d like to sort out some identity parades as soon as possible – they’ll probably have to be done at the hospital. The car is being gone over with a fine tooth-comb, but this guy was shrewd enough to wear gloves, so we’re unlikely to get any prints. I believe we’ve already had some reports of sightings of the vehicle – we need to interview those witnesses, as soon as possible. From what Miss Fable has told me so far, they had quite a journey through parts of outer London before they headed out to Guildford; I’m guessing, but they must have stopped for petrol at some point. We can start making enquiries at garages along the likely route. Forensics have started their bit. From the spent cartridge cases and bullets recovered, they’ve ascertained that he used a .38 calibre hand gun, so that’s another line of enquiry. Teddy has organised the duty roster for today, so I’ll leave him to get you lot to work.” At which point he handed over to DS Cambridge: “Constable Alger, I want you to put together some mug-shots for Miss Fable to look through...” “Be in my office at eleven-thirty: you’ll be coming to the hospital with me.” added Ackroyd.
At about 10 AM, Ackroyd got some disturbing news: a man had rung the hospital in Guildford that morning and threatened to “finish off” Vera; though he was obviously unaware of her move to London, they decided to double the watch on her room at the Royal Northern. Following a meeting with Detective Chief Superintendent Allsop, Ackroyd’s immediate superior, he and DC Alger drove to the hospital to recommence interviewing Vera. Meanwhile, another important development had arisen in Camberwell (South London): a bus company worker had reported the discovery of a gun wrapped in a handkerchief, along with a stash of ammunition, behind the back seat of a 36A bus.
Vera’s condition was stable, although doctors were still concerned about the tiny bullet fragments still lodged in her thigh. But she was in good spirits, all things considered. She was expecting a visit from her parents that afternoon – who had been unable to visit earlier, as they lived in Portsmouth and had no transport of their own. The detectives arrived at her room a little later than planned, having had to make enquiries regarding any strange phone calls to the hospital or strange men hanging around; fortunately, there hadn’t been any reported. Ackroyd also instructed the medical staff to ensure that Vera did not get access to any newspapers.
“Good morning, Vera. This is Detective Constable Alger.” – the DC interjected with a salutary “Ma’am” – “The constable will be taking the notes, today. We’ve brought some mug-shots for you to look through.” continued Ackroyd taking the file from Alger and passing it over to Vera: “Take your time, Vera.” While she perused this array of likely lads, a nurse came in and gave Ackroyd a message – it related to the discovery of the gun on the bus, which had now been identified as a .38 calibre Enfield revolver. Ackroyd mulled over this for a moment, before returning to speak to Vera: “So, Vera, any of those faces familiar?” he asked.
“No. I don’t think so.” she said thoughtfully.
“Okay. Don’t worry, it’s still early days. We may have found the gun that was used: that could give us a big lead... I’d like to go over what happened Friday night, again; this time, I want to start at the beginning and go through every detail that you can recall. The more information we have, the better chance of identifying a suspect.” “That’s okay. I’m ready.” she proclaimed with an air of resolve.
“So, let’s go back to the beginning: you and Gregg were sitting in the entrance to a field... What happened next?”
“We heard this tapping on the window. We thought it might be the farmer; the windows were misted, so we couldn’t see who it was. It was getting quite dark by then, too... Gregg wound down the window and this gun was pushed into his face. We didn’t know what to think; we assumed it must be a robbery... Then he took the keys and got in the back of the car. He said he was ‘a desperate man’; that he’d escaped from prison and had been sleeping rough. But I don’t think that was true, because later he made us get out of the car – I could see he was smartly dressed...”
“Okay. So, he’s in the back of the car giving you some spiel, what then?”
“Gregg offered him money; we assumed that’s what he wanted. He seemed a bit surprised, like it was a bonus.”
“I see: you don’t think that his real motive was robbery?”
“I don’t know. He wouldn’t say what he wanted... Oh, he did take our watches.”
“That could be useful. Can you give us a description of the two watches?”
“Mine was an Omega with a plain round face.” She gestured to indicate the size, “It had a sort of braided bracelet – it was 9 carat gold.”
“Quite valuable, then?” “Well, it wasn’t cheap.”
“Any inscription?”
Vera hesitated: “It was a birthday gift, from a friend... On the back it said ‘To my beloved Vera’.”
“That’s great, Vera. We can put the word out; see if surfaces on the black market. What about Gregg’s watch?”
“I’m not sure. I don’t think it was anything special. Plain face; blue leather strap – that’s it, really.”
“Okay. So, he
took the watches – then what?”
“It was strange: he was quite threatening to start with, but then his tone changed; he started being chatty – friendlylike. It was weird; it was like he just wanted to have a chat.”
“Can you recall any details of what he said?”
“He said he felt like a cowboy with his gun; he had a hanky over his mouth and nose, like a cowboy... Started going on about films; he said he thought I looked like Debbie Reynolds in ‘How the west was won’ – that was after he’d called her a ‘tasty tart’. Oh, before that, he did ask some odd questions about me and Gregg.”
“Like what?”
“Were we married, and things like that... He said he’d ‘done the lot’; I don’t know what he meant by that. Something to with prison?”
“That’s an old lag’s expression; it means he’s been through all of the various prison phases – it’s unusual, actually: we can look into that.” informed Ackroyd.
“I can’t remember much about that bit. He made Gregg drive further into the field after a while. That was frightening. Then he started being chatty, again. He was talking about films, again... No wait, that didn’t start until we were in the field...”
“Take your time, Vera.”
“He was asking about the car... It was all a bit creepy. I felt very uncomfortable; he kept making these subtle sexual references... After a while he said he wanted to drive and that he needed to tie us up; then he made us get out of the car – in the middle of that field... Oh, just before that, I asked him his name – or it might have been a bit earlier? Anyway, he said to call him ‘Mr Brown’. It sounded made up...”
“What happened when you got out of the car?”
“He made Gregg open the boot. We had a tow rope in there: he said he could use that to tie me up. He wanted to put Gregg in the boot, but I managed to convince him that the exhaust was leaking and that it would kill him... He changed his mind and said Gregg could drive.”
When Ackroyd heard this, he gave DC Alger a puzzled look: it seemed that the gunman didn’t want to risk killing Gregg at that stage, so evidently could not have been contemplating murder.
“Okay, then what?” prompted Ackroyd.
“We asked where he wanted to go... He asked which way was Windsor and said to go that way. Oh, I remember now, he said he wanted to get something to eat. I don’t know if had anywhere in mind at that point.” “Do you think he was familiar with Windsor?” enquired Ackroyd.
“I don’t know, really? Gregg told him we needed petrol soon, so he told us to go to Staines and find the next garage. He told me to put the radio on; then he started chatting about music. He was singing a Rolling Stones song – but I don’t know it. He said it wasn’t out, yet? I didn’t get that... Anyway, we stopped at an Esso garage in Staines High Street...”
“That’s useful.” interjected Ackroyd, “Do you think the attendant would have seen the gunman?”
“I’m not sure.”
“What time was this?”
“I’m not sure, but I’d guess around 10.30, or so... After we left that garage, Gregg deliberately left an indicator on – to attract attention. It worked, too; but it didn’t help us.”
“What happened there?”
“A car flagged us down and this youngish guy got out, but he didn’t come right over – I think he was a bit scared.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know. But he drove off.”
“Can you describe the vehicle?”
“I think it was an old Ford; it might have been a green colour.”
“Did you get the registration?”
“No. It was old though.”
“Could you describe the driver?”
“Bit chubby; fair hair. I couldn’t really see him that well.”
“Okay – it’s something. Then what?”
“We went to a chip shop.”
“A chip shop?” exclaimed Ackroyd, slightly shocked.
“Yes, it’s called ‘Fred’s’; it’s right next to the M4 flyover. I know it was around 11 PM, because last fish orders were at
11 PM and the woman locked up after they left the shop.”
“Sorry: they?”
“Gregg and the gunman. He told me to stay in the car... I thought about running, but I was worried that he might shoot
Gregg and the woman in the shop.”
“He did take off the hanky, when they went in the shop, I presume?” asked Ackroyd quizzically. “Oh yes, I meant to say: Gregg must have got a reasonable look at him then.” “And so would the lady in the shop.” noted Ackroyd, a little excited.
“Yes, she must have... When they got back in the car, he just sat and ate his chips for a while. He kept changing his tune: one minute friendly, the next threatening... Then he told Gregg to head for Kew Gardens.”
“He seems to be at least vaguely familiar with the area.” commented Ackroyd abstractly, addressing DC Alger.
“Yes. He seemed to know the chip shop was there.” Vera added supportively.
“So, you drove to Kew Gardens?”
“Well, past it, yes... We followed the number 65 bus... Somewhere along that road he made us stop outside some shops – they were closed, but there was a cigarette machine.”
“A cigarette machine? Did he buy cigarettes?”
“He made me get them. I thought about making a run for it, but I didn’t want to leave Gregg on his own.” “No. I imagine it was difficult: you couldn’t have known what he was going to do.” comforted Ackroyd.
“I don’t think he knew what he was going to do.” she reasoned. “I still don’t know what it was really about... I think he was interested in me from the start, though.” she presumptively added.
“What did he do with these cigarettes? We didn’t find any stubs in the car or...”
“I don’t think he was a smoker, really.” Vera interrupted. “He started coughing almost immediately, then threw it out the window... A car bibbed us.”
“Where was this?”
“Heading towards Richmond. No wait, that was earlier: when he through the chips out.” “What was earlier?”
“The car that bibbed us... When we reached Richmond train station there were some road works – he told us they would be there.”
“That suggests recent knowledge of Richmond.” commented Ackroyd, thinking out loud.
“Then we headed towards Kingston... No wait – we stopped a bit before that. Before Richmond, he made us double back and park on the verge... I think it was a golf course.”
“Where was this?”
“Just after Kew, I think. We sat there for a bit; then he told us to carry on... No, hang on: I’m getting confused, now.”
“That’s okay, Vera. Just take your time.” Ackroyd, sensing Vera was tiring, told DC Alger to get them some tea. When the constable had left the room, Ackroyd engaged Vera in non-interrogative conversation: “I understand your parents are visiting later.”
“Yes.” said Vera cheerfully, “They live in Portsmouth; they don’t have a car, you see.”
“Ah... I take it you don’t see them much, then?”
“No, not much... Things like this make you appreciate the people in your life; especially your mum and dad... Do you have children, Superintendent?”
“Yes, and grandchildren.” he answered buoyantly, “We have them all ‘round the house once a month. It’s a bit of a mad-house, but I wouldn’t have it any other way.”
“No. Sounds lovely.” Vera said with sincerity. “I’d like to have a family – one day.”
“Well, I’m sure you will... I believe Gregg had children.” he postured in a slightly probing manner – it was instinct.
“Yes.” responded Vera; she appeared a little uncomfortable with this line of enquiry.
“Sorry – you probably never met them.” he delved further.
“No. No I didn’t meet his family.” was her noticeably dismissive reply.
“Oh, by the way,” remembered Ackroyd, “Mr
s Mason has asked if she can visit you.”
“Oh, really?” Vera didn’t seem completely shocked by this and yet seemed to be questioning her motives.
“Would you be happy for us to arrange that?”
“Yeah: if it makes her happy.” she agreed flatly. Ackroyd was definitely detecting some tension between these two women.
“Have you ever met before?”
“Once or twice.” she said rather deceitfully.
“You’ve both suffered a mutual loss.” he said in a conciliatory tone, while simultaneously intimating a relationship parallel. Vera chose not to react to Ackroyd’s provocation. He decided to steer away from this subject, not wanting to antagonize Vera, who after all, was an innocent victim – and he needed her cooperation.
“I believe you both worked at Alcott’s timber merchants?” asked Ackroyd changing tack.
“Yes. We didn’t work together, though.” she said defensively, “I’m the Commercial Director’s secretary.”
“Ah-hu. Gregg was the Sales Manager, I believe?” “Yes. We just had a mutual interest in rallying.”
“Really? I’ve never thought of that as lady’s thing.” Ackroyd commented, partly in condescension and partly in dubiety.
“It is the 1960’s.” Vera rebuked; “Women are even allowed to vote, nowadays.” she added sarcastically. Ackroyd smiled wryly – she was clearly a feisty young woman with a modern outlook.
“Indeed.” agreed Ackroyd eventually, “So, can you think of anyone at work that might want to harm you or Gregg?”
“No... I’d never seen him before.”
“No, no, of course not; we just have to explore all angles, you understand? No altercations with anyone in recent times?”
“No. Nothing.”
“You’re part of a motor club – is that right?”
“Yes: Maidenhead Auto Club.”
“Anyone there that might have an axe to grind?”
“No, everyone was friendly. It’s just for fun, anyway.”
“Mmm, sometimes people start taking things a bit too seriously – that can cause trouble.” he elaborated, and not without a hint of irony. Vera just stared at him, somewhat mystified.
