Consequences

by R. C. Bridgestock

  ‘Well it could’ve been either,’ said John. ‘Both were definitely in the same predicament of needing cash, and money was missing.’

  ‘Do you think they knew each other? They both knew Malcolm Reynolds. If you were a gambling man who would you bet your money on being the murderer, and is that the same person that’s got the money?’ Dylan said to John.

  ‘That’s a bit like asking me to predict the winner of the Grand National.’

  ‘What you’re telling me, John is that you wouldn’t put your money on anyone yet, eh?’ said Dylan. ‘I don’t blame you, but my gut instinct tells me it’s Larry. Although I must admit saying that brings a bitter taste to my mouth. Frankie didn’t need to do the robbery did he, if he had the money? I can tell by your face you don’t agree.’

  ‘No it’s not that. I suppose anyone is capable of murder in difficult circumstances. Larry was always one for the ladies. A bit of a ‘jack the lad’. But he’s not a murderer, surely, is he?’

  ‘Who else would have had the law books; definitely not Frankie. Maybe they planned it together and Larry had intended to take Liz with him?’ contemplated Dylan.

  Back at the office, Dylan unpacked his briefcase and mulled over the meeting. He had finally got an agreement to circulate a description of Larry Banks to Interpol on suspicion of murder, so it got the attention it deserved, although he knew the evidence for murder was flimsy, to say the least. It had taken him ages to get the Command Team to consider and agree to it, and it had worn him down. Why did SIOs always have to fight with the hierarchy to get their approval for decisions they had ultimately made as the head of the enquiry? Because most of them were gutless, that’s why, he conceded. He opened an envelope that had been left on his desk, and Larry’s warrant card fell out. His mouth dropped open - As he picked up the ringing phone.

  ‘Sir, a Mrs Day is here to see you.’

  ‘What’s it about?’ Dylan said, as he picked up the card and stared at the picture of Larry.

  ‘She’s been notified that she may be called as a witness in a child murder case you dealt with that’s up shortly and is wanting to speak with you about her attendance in court, sir.’

  ‘She asked for me?’

  ‘By name, sir.’

  ‘Bring her through to my office will you please, but not through the incident room. I don’t want her to be able to see the white board with all the information that’s on it.’

  A uniformed officer held Dylan’s office door open for Mrs Day to enter. Dylan rose to greet her. Shaking her cold, bony hand, he noticed she was shaking.

  ‘Now then Mrs Day, please take a seat. What can I do for you?’ he said, with a smile.

  ‘I’m sorry to bother you Mr Dylan. I know you’re a very busy man,’ Mrs Day’s voice quivered.

  ‘Not a problem,’ he said. ‘I’m sure you wouldn’t have come if it wasn’t important. How can I help?’

  ‘This is going to sound really silly to a man in your position,’ she said, sniffling as she wiped her nose with a tissue. ’But I’m worried. You see I’ve been summonsed to give evidence in the Crown Court. I found the girl’s body on the moorland, if you remember. I...I want to let you into a little secret. I’ve never been in a courtroom before and the man who murdered the two children is on trial.’

  Dylan smiled at Mrs Day, sympathetically.

  ‘I understand perfectly. If it’ll help, I can arrange for you to go to the court beforehand and meet the ushers, even sit in on another trial. Now how does that sound?’

  ‘Oh, Mr Dylan, I would be ever so grateful. It’s causing me sleepless nights.’

  ‘Mrs Day, you don’t have to worry, my officers will be there to look after you and although you’ve been asked to attend, if the defence don’t call you then you won’t have to take the stand. They might accept what you saw, from your statement that you gave to us at the time. If you wish you could still come and see him sentenced though, even if your evidence isn’t required. If that’s something that you feel you would like to do?’

  ‘Oh, thank you Mr Dylan that makes me feel so much better. I can’t thank you enough.’ Mrs Day said, hesitantly. ‘I hate this sort of thing. I’m just happy minding my own business, you know.’

  ‘We are very grateful to you. Now that’s settled, can I get you a cup of tea or something to calm your nerves?’ Dylan smiled.

  ‘Oh, goodness no. I’ve wasted enough of your time,’ she pointed to the mountain of paperwork on his desk. ’Your wife isn’t going to see you tonight if I sit here nattering to you, now is she?’ She smiled gratefully.

  Dylan reached out to shake her hand as she stood up to leave.

  ‘Mr Dylan?’

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘I’m being nosey now, but I can’t help but notice that man’s photograph on your desk. Who is he if you don’t mind me asking?’ Mrs Day pointed to the warrant card.

  ‘It’s Detective Sergeant Larry Banks. Why?’

  ‘Oh, nothing. I just saw him filling up one of those large mobile homes at the garage the other day. His face seemed familiar at the time. I think he came to take the statement from me, but you all look different out of your suits.’

  ‘He was? He did? Sit down Mrs Day. Let me arrange that cup of tea for you, you might be able to help me.’ Mrs Day seemed puzzled, but did as she was asked. Dylan got up opened his office door and shouted into the incident room. ‘Tracy, could you get me a cup of tea for Mrs Day, please?’ He sat back down behind his desk and looked at Mrs Day intently.

  ‘Now where was I? This man.’ Dylan held up Larry’s warrant card. ’Did you speak to him? He didn’t say where he was going by any chance did he?’

  ‘No, but I did say a few words to him. Belle, my dog, wouldn’t stop barking at him. Why?’

  ‘We’re trying to find out his whereabouts.’

  ‘Is he in trouble?’

  ‘We don’t know that yet. Would you speak to one of my officers about the day you saw him at the garage? The information might be very helpful to us. I’ll get them to do it straight away.’

  ‘Well, if I can help in anyway… then I must get back to Belle. Do you have a dog?’ she said as he walked her to the office door.

  ‘Yes, a retriever called Max.’

  ‘Much more agreeable than some people, don’t you find, Mr Dylan?’ she chuckled.

  ‘I can’t disagree with you there,’ said Dylan, smiling. ‘Tracy, can you take a statement for me from Mrs Day please whilst she’s drinking her tea?’

  Mrs Day shook Dylan’s hand and Tracy led her down the corridor to an interview room.

  It seemed a reasonable ID by Mrs Day for Larry, but Dylan knew only too well how sometimes witnesses although extremely emphatic – could get it wrong. It was certainly a positive line of enquiry though. Had anyone heard Larry talking about a mobile home? He didn’t own one, Dylan was sure. He must have borrowed it from somewhere. Where was he heading? Dylan would hopefully know, by the time the statement was taken, what day Mrs Day saw him, at what time, and also at what garage. Was it before Liz’s death or after he wondered? There may be CCTV at the garage. Could he even dare wish that that would give him a registration number? There can’t be many mobile home hire companies locally. ‘What are the chances of Mrs Day being a witness in two murder enquiries? Unbelievable, thought Dylan - a real life, although reluctant, Miss Marple.

  Dylan had a spring in his step as he threw his suit jacket on to go home. Luck, he knew, was always important in solving a case, and maybe Mrs Day calling in to see him was just that.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Whistling, he opened the front door and Max bounded towards him.

  ‘Max, I’ve got my best suit on,’ he said chuckling, ‘I’m home,’ Dylan shouted, as he ran straight up the stairs to change. Max bounded after him. Jen heard the bedroom door slam and Max’s excited bark outside it.

  ‘It’s worse than having two flaming kids about the place,’ she said, raising her eyebrows, as Max hurtled back down the st
airs and along the hallway, skidding around the kitchen door, on the tiles.

  ‘Steady, you silly boy, you’ll hurt yourself,’ Jen scolded, as his legs splayed so he came to rest on his belly, panting furiously.

  Dylan walked in, carrying his shirt for the wash. His mobile vibrated in his tracksuit trousers pocket, just as he stood before her and held her face in his hands. ‘’What now?’ He groaned, as he reached for it with one hand and held her hand in the other.

  ‘DI Dylan?’ asked the caller.

  ‘Yes, speaking, whom am I speaking to?’ he replied, pulling a face and hunching his shoulders at Jen.

  ‘Boss, sorry it’s a bad line. It’s Gary Warner. Good news for you. Thought I’d ring you rather than wait till tomorrow.’

  ‘Information from Frankie Miller’s mobile,’ said Gary. ‘It appears he or somebody using his mobile called the Reynolds’ home before and on the day Liz was murdered. The tech guys, using geographic mapping, can site the phone in St Peter’s Park that morning, and on checking other incidents in the area it seems, there had been a slight accident on the main road above the park; him trying to get away quickly, perhaps?’ The phone crackled. Dylan straining to hear all Gary was saying, let go of Jen’s hand, and walking to the window put a finger in his ear.

  ‘The driver in the offending car failed to stop, I’m told the accident report says,’ Gary continued.

  ‘Bloody hell, Gary, that gives us the connection with the park and with her home. Do you want my job?’ Jen’s hope-filled eyes looked up from chopping the cabbage. Dylan grinned at her.

  ‘No thanks, sir, you can keep your job,’ he said. The phone bleeped.’…Car was a hire...car...’

  ‘Thanks Gary… you might be interested to know...’ Dylan looked at his mobile phone’s screen. The connection had been lost.

  ‘Damn...You, my lady, are not going to believe this,’ said Dylan.

  ‘I’m all ears. Don’t tell me …’ she closed her eyes, ‘you’re going to transfer to the Isle of Wight.’ she said, flinging her arms around his neck and planting a kiss on his lips.

  ‘Ah...it’s not that good,’ he said. ‘You’re going to be disappointed now no matter what I say,’ he said, cuddling her tight.

  ‘I’m not. I knew you weren’t...I was kidding,’ she said.

  ‘Good. Well that was Gary Warner from the Crime Squad; it looks like it was Frankie Miller in St Peter’s Park and who more than likely killed Liz. They think he used a hire car to get to the park. Could that have been the hire car that hit you?’

  ‘What? never. What does he look like, this Frankie? Because I’ll never forget the look on that man’s face when he stuck one finger up at me.’

  ‘Of course. You saw him didn’t you?’

  ‘Yeah, and I’ll have his face imprinted on my mind forever.’

  ‘What did he look like? Dylan said sitting down.

  ‘Ah, so you’re interested in my minor bump now are you?’ she said. ’I could have picked him out of an ID parade for you but...he’s dead?’ She frowned.

  ‘VIPER.’

  ‘Oh yes, of course, Video ID.’

  ‘I’ll arrange for you to visit the ID suite and see if we can get you to pick him out.’

  ‘Does that mean I’ll be able to make a claim on his insurance?’

  ‘Stolen car. Dead driver...you might struggle with that one love.’ Dylan said, with a wry smile.

  ‘I’ll make a detective yet, you’ll see.’ She grinned. ‘A major witness in a murder enquiry, eh?’ She whistled long and slow.

  ‘A very important one, but only if you identify our man for us.’

  She stopped what she was doing. ‘I will. Well, I’ll pick out the man that was driving the car that hit me.’

  ‘We’ll see, but the jigsaw puzzle is coming together. Who’s got the money though, and why kill Liz?’

  ‘That’s for you to sort Jack. I’ve done my bit …’ She stood thinking, holding a knife and half a peeled potato in her hand. ’Am I a corner piece of your jigsaw, or a straight edge?’

  ‘With those curves, definitely a corner piece, Miss Jones,’ Dylan said readily. Now come here,’ he said, grabbing her to him for a kiss. ‘I need to say sorry.’

  ‘What for?’ she pouted.

  ‘I pushed you aside when the accident happened, didn’t I? I treated your accident as a minor occurrence, but if it was Frankie Miller who took your wing mirror off, after he had just killed one woman, then that’s too close to my girl for comfort,’ he sighed, squeezing her tight.

  The next morning Dylan was in the office early, but John was there before him.

  ‘You wet the bed, me old son?’ Dylan said.

  ‘No sir, I had one of them four o’clock thoughts and it niggled me so much I had to get up.’

  ‘Oh God...look...tip...write your thoughts down on a piece of paper and throw them on the floor till morning. I can do it without putting the light on now and believe it or not my writing is almost legible the next day,’ he laughed. ‘You’ll learn...coffee?’ Dylan shouted, as he walked back out of the office to make a brew. John followed him.

  ‘Frankie didn’t know Liz, right?’ said John.

  ‘Well he knew of her through Malcolm,’ replied Dylan, as he spooned coffee into two cups.

  ‘It’s just Greater Manchester Police just rang. They’ve found a picture in Frankie’s flat, of her outside her home.’

  Dylan didn’t stop what he was doing.

  ‘And that’s not all, John. Gary Warner called me last night. They can place Frankie’s mobile in the park on the day of the murder. He’d also rung Liz’s home several times in the days leading up to the murder. And remember Jen’s accident the morning of the incident?’ Dylan said.

  John nodded.

  ‘It might just have been our Frankie in a rush to get away from the scene. I’m going to get a Video ID set up for her to see if she can identify the man driving the car that hit her.’

  ‘Bloody hell,’ John gasped.

  Dylan laughed. Handing him his coffee. ‘Perhaps that should be strong, tea John. You should see your bloody face, it’s a picture.’

  ‘What? Well nobody would believe that the boss’s missus, on his enquiry, bumped into the culprit leaving the scene, now would they?’

  ‘No, it’s so unbelievable, it could be true. And, wait for this she says she got a good look at the driver too.’

  ‘This morning couldn’t get any better could it?’ John grinned. ’Do you think she will ID him?’

  ‘She says so, but you and I know from experience, how sure people are that they will never forget a face, and then when it comes to swearing beyond doubt...we’ll see. We need to gather and secure all the evidence, in chronological order.’

  ‘Do you want me to do Jen’s Video ID?’

  ‘I think it may be better to let the Video Unit do it. They’ll be totally independent, and the last thing we want is for any suggestion from the defence of prompting, do we? We’ll also have to put the relevant schedule in disclosure to highlighting the issue as it has potential to undermine our case or even assist the defence.’

  John’s eyebrows knitted together into a frown.

  ‘Don’t look so worried, this happens with lots of pieces of evidence and just has to be disclosed properly.

  ‘I still can’t fathom out why Frankie would kill Liz. Like Malcolm said, he wouldn’t think twice about walking into banks and asking them to hand over the money. Yer know, like: Handover the money or I’ll blow your fucking head off. So why bother with Liz and blackmail? It’s not really his scene, is it?’ said John.

  ‘No, and I’m still not happy...Malcolm Reynolds and Larry Banks need a closer looking at. Nothing more come in on Larry and his mobile home, or who’s visited Malcolm Reynolds in prison, apart from his family?’

  John shook his head and picked up the ringing telephone.

  ‘It’s for you sir, Finchy.’

  John handed the phone over the desk into Dylan’s outstretche
d hand.

  ‘Yep.’

  ‘Sir, Jason Todd will be with us at lunchtime. You still okay for interview around two o’clock, if I sort out his solicitor?’

  ‘Yeah, count me in. I’d like to see what makes that bastard tick.’

  Dylan replaced the receiver and he felt his pulse start to quicken. He couldn’t wait to get stuck into Todd’s ribs with the questioning. ‘John, let’s chase up the telephone connections with Liz and Larry and get them mapped. We’ll plot all our player’s movements on an Anacapa chart and see what it gives us. Who knows that may show something up we’ve missed.’

  Dylan reached for the ringing phone this time. ‘Jackie Stanley, Crown Prosecution Service. I’m just calling to let you know your double child murderer is to appear at Harrowfield Crown Court, a week on Monday, on the murder charge. His defence say he’ll enter a guilty plea for Manslaughter …’

  ‘No, he won’t.’ Dylan interrupted. ‘We’ll run him for murder.’ Dylan said, fuming.

  ‘Good, I’m glad you’ve said that, they were my sentiments exactly. The defence are suggesting he was provoked.’

  ‘Yeah, he will be when he’s found guilty of two murders.’

  ‘So, we’ll go to trial, probably, in approximately nine months’ time then. We’ll have to wait for a date in the court calendar to be secured for it. I’ll keep you posted.’

  ‘Is the trial likely to be heard at a local Crown Court, or are the defence pushing for one out of the County just to make it awkward for witnesses or the fact that the public feelings are running high?’ said Dylan.

  ‘Not sure yet. The powers that be and the judge will decide that, but we’ll know more once we have a request for witnesses, experts etcetera, so the duration of the trial can be planned.’

  ‘Yeah, I know, but if it’s possible I’d like it to be held locally for the families and witnesses sake let alone our officers. It would be nice if they could at least go back to their own homes after a day in court, instead of a hotel room where there’s not enough room to swing a cat, in a strange city, miles away.’