The Chess Player

by Andrew Parker

  ‘Any particular time you want?’

  Williams nodded with excitement ‘ Yes, could you forward to the evening from around six-thirty pm’.

  The picture whizzed through the day and halted at the time shown in the bottom right hand corner. Williams leaned forward to gain a better look ‘Can we forward slowly’ he asked not taking his eyes away from the screen. It jogged through slowly. Still no sign of the Judge. The bottom of the picture showed eight forty-eight. ‘Stop, stop’ Williams shouted ‘go back a minute’.

  On the screen leaving the apartments was a figure in black. ‘I never saw this person arrive did you?’ Williams asked.

  There was a shrug of the shoulders from the security guard ‘We might have missed him fast forwarding

  through the tapehe might even be a motor cyde

  courier’.

  ‘What at that time of night!… do you remember anyone like that arriving’

  ‘I wasn’t on shift. Our night team take over at

  ‘Keep playing the recording forward’.

  They patiently perused the recording, fast forwarding, slowing down, excitedly stopping but to no avail. It reached two forty am Thursday morning when Williams suddenly asked for the picture to be stopped again. Coming out of the pitch-blackness and into the glaring lights of the front door was a person in a black overcoat, bowler hat but a scarf covering the lower hal of his face. Those eyes.

  ‘That’s him that’s bloody him’ Williams

  smiled. ‘It had to be, it all fits in, leaving the apartment at eight forty-eight. The telephone call from the mobile and then returning early hours of the morning. ‘Who was on that night shift? Williams was thirsty to find out.

  ‘I don’t know I’ll have to check the schedule’.

  Williams was becoming impatient with questions running through his head ‘The people that live here do they leave their key or do they go straight to their apartment?

  ‘Everyone has a key to their own apartment, but they can leave it with us for safe keeping or we have a master key if they lose it’. The security guard explained.

  ‘So as they come through the front entrance they can walk straight to the stairs or lift’ Williams was thinking out loud ‘and would the night shift necessarily see them or acknowledge them?’

  ‘Not alwaysbut at that time in the morning

  I’m sure whoever was on shift would have been curious, I would have and Judge Francis always says hello. He is a real gent’.

  They left the monitoring room and Williams followed over to the reception area. ‘Ill check the night shift roster to see who was on that night’.

  Williams nodded and flicked through the leaflets on the wall showing sights and attractions of London while he waited.

  ‘Here we go’ the guard exclaimed ‘it was Jack….Jack Lyon’.

  ‘Great, do we have an address for him?’

  ‘Hold on, Ill lust have to go through the computer’. The guard punched in a password and accessed the personnel file of all employees. ‘Yes he lives at fifty six Kensington Mansions, South Kensington’.

  Chapter 18.

  Williams hooted his car horn annoyingly as he made pedestrian pace through Kensington market. His foot was constantly on the brake pedal as cars in front kept flashing their red lights by slamming on their brakes as people on both sides of the road suddenly leapt into their path as though deliberately trying to get themselves run over.

  As Williams neared the end of the high street he saw a tower block on his left-hand side. He indicated and turned into the litter-strewn car park. He raised his eyebrows in surprise ‘Kensington Mansions’ was not at all what he expected. As he walked over to the open arched entrance he noticed the vile graffiti sprayed in many colours over the walls which gave him a feeling of reactance on leaving his car parked where it was.

  Williams blinked his eyes and screwed his face up in disgust as the smell of urine burst out of the open doors of the elevator. Williams decided to take the stairwell and read the graffiti as he did so which crudely described what some women would do for him sexually. He made it to the third floor where flat fifty-six was located. He walked down the concrete aisle noting the door numbers as he did so. The first one started at thirty-two.

  Williams reached the pale blue door with its paint peeling and damp slowly eroding into the bottom of the door. He prayed Jack Lyon would be in. He pressed the doorbell, there was no sound but he waited for a few seconds to see if there was any response. Williams now tapped loudly on the knocker. Still no answer.

  Williams stood back from the door in an attempt to see if there was any movement from within. ‘Jack’ he shouted through the letterbox. There was no answer and Williams fell agitated, ‘fuck it’ he swore under his breath.

  He decided to check with the next door neighbours and banged on their door as hard as he could. A dishevelled individual opened the door, unshaven olive skinned man with his stained vest hanging out over his beer belly.

  ‘What do you want?’

  ‘I’m DS Williams’ he answered and then showed his badge, ‘I was wondering if you had seen Jack Lyon around recently?’.

  He stroked his stubble while shaking his head

  ‘noalthough I heard him come in from work about six

  thirty yesterday morning, noisy bugger. I sometimes have to bang on the walls’.

  Williams nodded ‘you haven’t seen or heard him since?’ he enquired.

  ‘ErmI did hear something yesterday

  afternoon, yes..I think someone visited him, I know no more after that’ he threw his arm down in a gesture of dismissal and shut the door.

  Williams just got out a ‘thanks’ before the door slammed in his face. Williams got that something isn’t right feeling and decided to call Howcroft on his mobile while walking back to his car.

  ‘Georgeit’s John, followed up on the judge

  and it was the fact he phoned from his mobile after using the landline that got me thinking. So I thought the apartments in Knightsbridge would have some sort of CCTV’.

  ‘And what did you find out?’ George anticipated.

  ‘I think I’ve bloody got him George, it’s not ckar but it’s definitely him. He arrived at his flat around nine and I would put money on it that he returned nearly six hours later, around three am. It all fits in George/ Williams said excitedly.

  ‘Brilliant’ Howcroft said vehemently. ‘Did anyone see him come or go?’

  ‘I’m following up on the security guard who was working that night, but there is no answer from his flat and no one has seen or heard from him since yesterday.

  ‘Okay, get onto his firm and find out if he tends to visit relatives on his days off and get his telephone number or mobile so we can track him down. Where are

  you? I’ll get Brewer and Barnes to meet you there

  as you are no longer on the case’ Howcroft smirked.

  Williams waited in his car for them to arrive, he also kept an eye out for Jack Lyon. After retrieving both numbers from his security firm he tried them both constantly every ten minutes. Jack Lyon’s mobile would divert straight into voice mail ‘apologising for not taking the call’ his home number just rang out. Williams informed Chief Inspector Howcroft he was getting no joy on the phones although he was told Jack Lyon was a bit of a loner and he might be found at his local pub ‘The Laughing Donkey’. Howcroft told Williams to wait for Brewer and Barnes and then to check out the public house in case Lyon was there. Howcroft explained there would be little point in arranging a search warrant, so he’d sent over a tool to do the job.

  Williams sped off after telling them what door number and floor to go to and made his way to the pub in just under four minutes. He pushed open the creaky door it was dimly lit, with only a handful of people sitting around the tabes and made his
way to the bar.

  ‘Excuse me’ Williams got the attention of the barman.

  The barman was small in stature, in his sixties with balding grey hair and had two front teeth missing. No doubt by a pub brawl. ‘What can I get you?’ he asked Williams in a croaky voice ready to respond in supplying an alcoholic beverage.

  ‘No thanks, I was wondering if you could tell me if Jack Lyon was in today’

  ‘No matehasn’t been in for quite a few days’

  the barman answered scratching his head as though he

  had fleas. ‘Might be at workdoes shift work for some

  security firm’.

  ‘Okay, thanks for your time’. Williams retreated quickly out of the pub, he got unnerving glances as he left. ‘Blimey what a dive’ he thought.

  Mike Brewer took the rubber-ended mallet and smacked it firmly against the wooden panel where the key lock was located. The door broke open with ease and he pushed it open wide.

  As they entered the hallway it was very gloomy, there was a dark dank smell of body odour and alcohol. A window at the bottom of the hallway sprayed out beams of light against the far end wall. There are four doors, two on either side of the wall, all were shut.

  ‘Okay Tina Ill take the left side you the right’ Brewer said with an air of caution.

  Barnes nodded and slowly moved into place to open the first door. She put her hand around the door handle and slowly turned. She fell her stomach muscCes tighten, and the hairs on the back of her neck stood to attention as she carefully pushed the door open.

  Her heart was beating faster and her body was filled with apprehension, as she suddenly flung the door wide open. A waft of stale food in her face was the first reaction she felt. She screwed her face up with disgust as her gaze focused on what was before her.

  It was the kitchen come dining room although all squeezed together. In the middle was a small kitchen table with two chairs. On the table were plates piled on top of each other with discarded food with Blue Bottle flies buzzing around. On the floor were empty crisp packets, cereal packets and numerous empty lager cans. The kitchen sink was piled high with more plates containing rotting food.

  ‘Shit, that’s disgusting’ Barnes shouted out loud. Imagining what sort of dob Jack Lyon was.

  Brewer slowly opened the door he was at. It was the bathroom with a toilet in the corner of the room. There were dirty dothes thrown across the floor and a thick tidemark around the bath. ‘I dare look at the toilet’ he shouted across to Barnes.

  Barnes had found an adjoining door in the kitchen and had walked through into the lounge. The carpet was grubby and had the remnants of many a TV dinner. There was a newspaper that had been thrown across the settee, Barnes went over and checked the date.

  It was a Sunday tabloid, with a scantily clad woman on the front page who would tell all about some high profile politician. ‘December fourteen’ she murmured.

  Mike Brewer cosed his fingers around the next door handle and pushed the door open quickly. It took a few seconds for his sight to adjust to the vision he saw before him, a safety mechanism for the repulsion his body fell. ‘Oh no!’ he shouted out and ran over to the bed. ‘Tina’ he called out and Barnes came running immediately.

  ‘Oh my god’ she exclaimed.

  Jack Lyon was lying in a pool of blood on top his double bed. A kitchen knife handle was protruding from his neck.

  ‘Call Howcroft straight away’ Brewer ordered.

  Barnes nodded in silence, feeling nauseous. She tried to punch in the number of Howcroft into her mobile. Suddenly she dashed outside the room and vomited green bile in the hallway, which hit the floor and splashed onto the yellow sunflower wall.

  Brewer moved outside and put his arm around Tina. ‘Are you okay’

  ‘Ill be alright’ she nodded as she coughed up dry air, her sickness had stopped. ‘Shock, that’s all’.

  Brewer patted her on the back gently, ‘go and get a glass of water, Ill phone Howcroft’.

  Brewer walked back into the bedroom shook his head in disbelief as he looked down at Jack Lyon. He was a very large man and the rolls of fat seem to spill over onto the bed. He was lying in a grey stringed vest that had seen better days and y-fronts that were tinged yellow.

  It didn’t take long for Howcroft and a team to arrive at the crime scene. Chief Inspector George Howcroft telephoned Williams as soon as he heard the news. He told Williams to keep away and that the one person who could have identified if it was the Judge leaving and arriving at his apartment had been murdered.

  Howcroft contemplated this unexpected turn of events and wondered if this was now the work of a random serial killer or was it the Judge or even Tarling?

  Surly Williams was onto something and if it was the Judge leaving his apartment, he was covering his tracks. Or was it someone trying to make out it was the Judge wanting to implicate him for both murders. His head was spinning.

  Howcroft checked with Barnes and Brewer at the front door before he proceeded. The only sign of any break in was what Mike Brewer had done to enter the premises. Barnes retrieved a statement from Mr Sipeo who reiterated what he had already told Williams, but after being pumped for more specific information came up with a time for Jack Lyon’s visitor.

  Just after four pm, as he was settling down to watch the football match. But he heard nothing after that, no struggle, no raised voices although he turned the sound up on his television.

  Howcroft walked into the bedroom where Doc was examining the body. Jason was busy dusting for fingerprints just in case.

  Doc looked up at Howcroft ‘a bit out of our jurisdiction aren’t we George?’.

  ‘Just tell me what you know’.

  ‘Heavy WOW with a kitchen knife, which you will probably find belongs to a set in the kitchen. It is an incised wound common with stabbing, usually penetrating deeper than wide. In this instance it has sliced the larynx causing a bubbling sensation where the oxygen and blood have mixed. As far as I can tell he was killed in this position.’

  Howcroft looked around his bedroom for inspiration, there was a television and video recorder in the corner, a wardrobe and set of drawers and a provocative picture of some model above his bed. ‘Anything Jason?’ Howcroft implored.

  ‘I think our friend liked his adult films’ Jason smiled and held up a selection of pornographic videos. ‘Otherwise nothing out of the ordinary, cothes shoes and oh yes found a contact magazine in his top drawer with his socks’.

  Howcroft nodded in amusement looking at Lyon in his underpants, do you think he was waiting for a prostitute to turn up?’

  Doc shrugged his shoulders, ‘MaybeI can tell

  you one thing though, he was scared to hell before he was stabbed’.

  Howcroft looked surprised ‘how do you know that for sure?’ he was curious to find out.

  ‘His underpants he pissed himself. Doc pointed to the yellow stain.

  Howcroft stared at Doc and scratched his head, though deep in thought mode. He frowned as he asked Doc ‘Time of death we can safely assume is from four until?’

  Doc straightened himself up after bending down examining the body for ten minutes. ‘Getting old George, but yes I would say from four until around nine, need to get him back to the lab’.

  Howcroft pulled his eyebrows together in disappointment after realising who they had in custody. ‘Counts one person out’.

  ‘Who’s that?’ Doc was keen to know.

  ‘Stephen Tarling, he was nicely tucked up in one of our cells’.

  Chief Inspector Howcroft breezed back out to the front of the flat, where Brewer and Barnes were still catching their breath from the scene they had discovered.

  Howcroft addressed them both when he said ‘I think Mr Lyon knew his killer. He let him or her in expecting them or not. But he k
new his bloody killer!’. Howcroft was sure of it. ‘Lets get back to Hothi. I want to get the Judge in for questioning and a search warrant for his flat’.

  Chapter 19.

  Chief Inspector Howcroft sat in the rear seat of the car as they drove back through the high street. He looked out of the car window, the sky was a dirty grey as daylight faded, and looked at all the different people going about their daily routine. He contemplated the murder of Jack Lyon and rubbed his eyes after picturing the man’s dead body with a knife sticking out of his throat.

  Howcroft knew what the hard nosed bitch was going to say ‘it’s outside of our jurisdiction’. He knew the murder was connected to Susan Kenyon-Lloyds death he also knew Williams was on the right track, but the last thing he wanted to was share information with another Murder Investigation Team but that’s what he would have to do.

  Howcroft adjusted his neck position on the upholstery and tilted his head backwards, turning his gaze once again to the mass of people Christmas shopping like herds of wildebeest all heading for the same water hoe. He would normally be pursuing petty theft this time of year or house robberies, which denied children the desired present they had waited for all year.

  Now he was under pressure to solve a high profile murder crime, and he found no satisfaction in realisation that maybe it wasn’t Stephen Tarling. In a macabre sort of way he looked forward after the investigation to tackling teenage drug pushers and domestic violence again.

  Chief Superintendent Hothi dealt with some paperwork on her desk, duly added a signature to two of the pages and put them into a tray to the right of her desk. She straightened her shoulders slightly as she looked Howcroft directly in the eyes.

  ‘George so bring me up to speed, you look like you have something on your mind?’. Hothi said noticing Howcroft’s unusual silence, which normally suggested he wanted to get something off his chest.

  ‘Sorry Ma’am, yes just to inform you of latest developments’

  ‘Something must have happened for you wanting to see me’. Hothi gave a wry smile.