“Then we’ve got a problem Houston. Tell him you can’t talk to him further about it and ring us. I guess a name is all we really need at this stage,” Vinnie finished. He glanced at Delany, as did Rob and he nodded his approval at them both.
Chapter Twenty-one
Johnson wasn’t sure what the future would hold now. Part of him was glad he told the DC Rob; part of him was not, but it was done now, and at least he was safe. He took five minutes to wander around his new home as soon as Rob had gone. It wasn’t a lot different to his place in terms of space; it had a small kitchen with a UPVC door leading to a small yard, a short hall leading to another UPVC front door, half-glazed. A small bathroom, but a decent sized bedroom and lounge. The furniture was tat, but that was to be expected. He grabbed a beer from the fridge and camped back down in the armchair.
If only he hadn’t been so greedy, if he’d just given Moxley what he’d wanted and left it at that, then no doubt he would have been long gone by now. But no, he had to turn the tables on him, turn the fact that Moxley was being shipped out into an advantage. Five grand’s worth of advantage, which in any event had all been in vain as the thieving swine had found it under the kitchen sink. All in vain. In truth, when he realised the money was gone he only gave his flat a cursory check over. He was glad now; he wouldn’t have liked to be the first one to find Tim’s head.
He should have known better, but it wasn’t all about extorting money from Moxley. It was as much about getting his own back. Payback for all the intimidation he’d suffered at his hands when, after all, he’d only been trying to do his job. All said and done, once Moxley got his cash back, any reasonable thinking person may have called it quits; but not that nutter. The sooner they caught him the better, and now he’d told the cops the truth, Moxley had no hold over him. Okay, he may get disciplined for not supervising Moxley properly when he attacked and killed that poor sod he was banged up with, but whatever else Moxley chose to say or allege when they did catch him, wouldn’t matter now. Not now Johnson had got it in first.
He finished off the last of the cans and headed for the bathroom before retiring. He must admit he felt calmer and safer than he had since the escape. At least now he might get a good night’s kip for a change.
*
“Vinnie, have you got a minute?” Delany asked.
Vinnie was contemplating a trip up to Preston to see if he could find out where George Piper was. He didn’t doubt for one second that the local DS had done all the neighbours’ addresses; but he knew what it was like to be a busy divisional DS when a request from elsewhere came in. Vinnie thought he’d inquire with any nearby corner shops, try to find the postman, that sort of thing, spend a bit more time than the local detective had to spare. It could wait a minute.
As he entered Delany’s commandeered office, he wondered where the displaced uniform chief inspector was holed out. He was brought back from his musings by the sight of a stranger sat opposite Delany, who was behind his desk.
A woman in her thirties, wearing a smart blue two-piece suit, with brown hair tied back and nominal make-up. His first thought was CPS?
“Vinnie, this is Doctor Anne Greymore,” Delany said, turning to her and adding. “This is DI Vinnie Palmer, my deputy SIO.”
Handshakes and introductions over, Vinnie pulled up a chair and closed the office door before he was asked. It looked like one of those type of conversations, and he was right.
As Delany quickly explained, Dr Greymore had been one of the two psychiatrists who had assessed Moxley’s mental health on behalf of the court. In fact, she had been the court appointed one as required by the Mental Health Act.
“I thought it would help speaking to the doctor in order to get a clearer view of Moxley’s profile as it’s now taking longer than we could have at first imagined, to get hold of him,” Delany said.
“Thanks, Harry, only too glad to help,” Dr Greymore said, adding, “Are you familiar with the court processes on such issues?”
“We are aware that it was the judge who wanted Moxley’s fitness to plead to be assessed,” Delany said.
“Yes, it was after a submission by defence counsel, which I later found out was in direct contravention to Moxley’s instructions.”
“How come?” Vinnie asked.
“When I interviewed Moxley, he told me that his counsel had expressed concerns over his fitness to plead, but Moxley had categorically instructed him not to make the submission.”
“Makes sense,” Vinnie said. “We know he didn’t want moving from Strangeways.”
“Exactly, but as counsel had concerns over his mental health, he made the submission anyway.”
“And the court ordered he be detained under the Mental Health Act on a twenty-eight day order,” Delany said.
“Worse than that as far as Moxley was concerned,” Dr Greymore said. “As one of the offences involved murder, or what would be murder if committed by a sane person, he retained the jury to deliberate on the actus rhea.”
“I’m aware of that, doctor, and if I’m briefed correctly, the jury concluded that Moxley had ‘acted’ and caused the death of the other inmate, and if mens rhea was ever proved, bingo; murder conviction.”
“That’s right,” the doctor answered.
“Meaning?” asked Vinnie.
“Meaning that the judge also signed a restriction order, which he is obliged to do in such circumstances as it would amount to murder if a guilty mind was ever proved, together with the knowledge that the evidence tested before the jury established that Moxley had committed the actual acts.”
“What’s the difference?”
“The difference, inspector, is instead of being detained in a secure mental hospital for a twenty-eight day assessment, he was to be detained indefinitely, or at least until deemed fit to plead. And could only be released on the authority of the Secretary of State,” she finished.
“Ah,” Vinnie said, “no wonder he was pissed off.”
“What about your assessment of his mental state?” Delany asked.
“I was just coming to that, Harry, but this may take a little longer, shall we grab a cup of tea first.”
*
Moxley drove around the Ribbleton area of Preston, familiarising himself with the locality. He used to like coming to Preston before he met that tease. It was because of that bastard he’d lost ten years of his life. Then he remembered the tease had actually lost his life, so he started to feel better again.
That one bad memory aside, he still liked the city; it was big enough to be anonymous in, yet small enough to remember his way around. Blackpool Road acted as an outer ring road around the city’s outskirts, and he recognised many of the landmarks from simply driving around. Quite a lot had changed in ten years. Although it still had plenty of architecture from its industrialised past there were plenty of new buildings everywhere. He guessed a lot of money had been invested in the place since it received its city status for the Queen’s 2002 silver jubilee.
He remembered New Hall Lane as one of the major roads into the city, and although it was mainly populated with shops and other retail outlets, he soon found the small block of terrace houses he was looking for. He was tempted to stop and try the address, here and now, but as he would only have one go at this he decided to recce the address for now and return at a more appropriate time. He’d waited this long, a bit longer wouldn’t matter.
Though he would allow himself one drive past, so he knew which door it was. He saw the number on the green painted door and was immediately glad he had resisted the urge to stop. A middle-aged fat bloke was banging on the door. He got no reply and moved on to next door. Probably trying to sell something, but it showed that no one was home.
He accelerated past the address without looking further. New Hall Lane was a busy road and no one would be paying him any attention, he thought, unless he brought it on himself. He was smarter than that. Junction thirty-one of the M6 was only ten minutes away, he’d soon be back in Manchester, time to go
and check on his beloved.
Chapter Twenty-two
Back in Delany’s office Vinnie and the other two took up their original positions. Dr Greymore opened her attaché case and pulled out a thick blue folder and started to read and refer from its contents.
“He has one of the worst combinations of personality disorders I have professionally come across. His antisocial, schizotypal, histrionic and narcissist disorders are the ones he scores most highly on.”
“What, you mean there is more where he’s not so bad?” said Vinnie, getting a scolding look from the doctor before she carried on.
“Focusing on what I’ve just said, schizotypal disorder traits include his inability to form close relationships. He views the world as odd. He has an attention addiction caused by his histrionic leanings where he overreacts to emotional situations. This is fuelled by his narcissism, which in turn fuels his grandiose view of himself.”
Delany jumped in before Vinnie could speak.
“So, he is an attention seeking, odd, loner who overreacts due to an elevated view of himself?”
“You could boil it down to that I guess,” the doctor said.
“What about the other one?” Vinnie asked.
“Sorry?” Greymore looked puzzled.
“The antisocial one. No offence, doctor, but that was the only heading I recognised.”
“I was coming to that. This is the area where he scored highest.”
“I’m guessing highest doesn’t mean best,” Vinnie said.
The doctor scowled again. “You may recognise the term, but I’m sure little else in this context.”
“Okay, doc, I don’t mean to sound facetious,” Vinnie lied.
“Well,” the doctor started, her demeanour easing, “he has an absolute need to have power over others, to control them for his own ends, and with no recognition whatsoever of the rights of others.”
“Context doctor?” Delany asked.
“If he decides he wants someone to die, and he decides they deserve to die – for whatever reason, which could be anything, anything at all, no matter how slight or odd – then I believe he will have no compunction in killing them. Feel no remorse, and may even forget he’s done it.”
Vinnie and Delany stared at the doctor. Neither spoke. Vinnie felt guilty at his earlier flippancy. He held his hands up in the air, “Sorry doctor, just a cop’s way of coping I guess. No offence meant.”
“None taken,” she replied.
Vinnie noticed Delany still hadn’t spoken, his hands were back supporting his head, and his complexion was reddening up again.
“Anything else, doc?” Vinnie asked.
“No, that’s about it, it’s what I told the court in my report. More than that would breach confidentiality.”
“Does that mean there is more?” Vinnie asked as Delany let out one of his groans.
“There are triggers and influences, but I don’t see anything that I think you haven’t really got already.”
Vinnie wasn’t sure if he believed her. “I guess we’ll have to take your word for that.” Then he got an idea. “I know all about privilege doctor, and trust me I respect that. However, if, for example, there is something in your notes that relate to a serious crime committed by Moxley, then a court may order disclosure as that could set privilege aside.”
Delany looked up, “Yes, under section eight of PACE.”
“That could involve an act not yet committed,” Vinnie said.
“How come?” the doctor asked.
“Well, if he was conspiring to murder someone, as soon as he enters that conspiracy, he commits a serious crime. Even though the actual murder has not yet taken place.”
“Okay inspector, so what are you saying?”
“Please, it’s Vinnie, and what I’m saying is, if you have material which on reflection you believe falls into that category, then you could let us know that you have something that would be worth our while in applying to a judge for a warrant to obtain.”
“So you want me to let you know whether there is anything to find before you apply for a warrant, but without telling you exactly what it is?”
Delany jumped in, “Nice one, Vinnie. Yes doctor, he’s right. That way you wouldn’t be breaching any professional ethics, supported by the fact that a judge would be the one to rule it not privileged, if he or she agreed and made the order.”
“Trust me; I want to see this man recaptured before anyone else gets hurt,” the doctor said, before appearing to wrestle with what was being suggested.
Filling the slight impasse, Vinnie added, “If you tell us you believe there is something in your notes worth finding, we can wrap this up in an intelligence report that only the judge would see.”
“There’s no point kicking in a thief’s door unless you know the stolen goods are there?”
“Exactly,” said Vinnie.
“And if a judge agrees it’s not privilege, then I’ve no issues. But what if, on seeing the material, he thinks it still should be treated as privilege?”
It was a good question, thought Vinnie; she was switched on all right. “Well, then we can’t use it in any proceedings. But if it leads to his capture and saves a life, that’s all that matters, really.”
“Okay fellas, like I say, I really do want to help. I’ll go away and check on the legality of what you’re saying – no offence.”
“None taken,” Delany said.
“Then I’ll go through all the notes, and trust me there are a lot of them, and view them accordingly. If I find anything, I’ll let you know.”
“That’s brilliant doctor, I could kiss you,” said Vinnie.
“Steady on,” she smiled.
Delany assured Doctor Greymore he would her keep abreast of developments, so as to assist her in her focus and justification. She thanked him, as any chain of events could change the context on her notes bringing more of them within the definition of what may not be privilege, adding to what could be accessed.
She said she was running late for her next appointment but would give it her earliest attention and speak to Delany as and when it was appropriate.
He and Vinnie thanked her and Vinnie escorted her to the lift, before returning to Delany’s office.
“I like it Vinnie,” Delany said, “but is it right what we’ve told her?”
“I once gained authority to bug a solicitor’s visit to his client in prison on the grounds that they were colluding to commit criminal acts –the brief was going to arrange for a junior to bring drugs into the prison on the next legal visit.”
“What happened?”
“The solicitor’s runner was nicked trying to bring the drugs in and we nicked the brief for conspiring to supply Class A, which rested on the taped conversations at the initial visit.”
“Did CPS go along with it?”
“Bless them they did, and after two days of legal argument with the jury out, the judge ruled the dirty bits were not privilege and could be used in evidence.”
“What happened?”
“The bent brief changed his plea and is doing a five stretch.”
Delany suggested they run past CPS what they had agreed with Greymore, but Vinnie managed to talk him out of it. He reasoned they might not be as bold as in the previous case, as with that one both parties were suspects.
“Why don’t we leave speaking to them until we have to, until we know for sure there is something to find. That might give them more confidence to run with it and, after all, once it’s before a judge, he’ll have the final say.”
Delany agreed and turned to write up his policy log while Vinnie checked his phone. Still no messages from Lesley. He sighed inwardly, and then shook it from his mind, no time for that now.
He considered going to see how Rob was getting on with Johnson, but resisted the temptation. He’d done better the day before without him; he’d text him instead and leave him to it. He typed, ‘I’ll not intrude Rob, just let me know when you have something, cheers DI’.<
br />
Today was Friday and the clock was ticking. He would grab a sandwich and then head off to Preston to see if he could find George Piper.
Chapter Twenty-three
Moxley parked the Rover in a quiet side street and walked the last part of the way. It was late afternoon and he knew he didn’t have much time to spare. So much to do, and it was Friday tomorrow. He walked along the grass verge after the footpath ended and ducked under the trees. Once at the gate, he took the key out and unlocked the shiny new padlock he’d bought from the petrol station, and locked the gate again after him. He climbed down the stairs and heard the chains move before he walked into the room. There wasn’t much natural light and he saw his beloved squint as he gathered himself up against the wall. “Jimmy’s your name, so I’m going to use it. It’s not like with the others. So, how are you Jimmy, have you missed me?”
Jimmy didn’t answer; he just stared at Moxley with those big blue eyes of his. “It’s okay, Jimmy. I’m going to release you from those chains. I’m sorry, it was an overreaction, and in any event, there is nowhere to go.”
His beloved Jimmy still didn’t answer but held his wrists out while Moxley unfastened him. “I do trust you. You proved that by giving the Traffic Warden a list of duff addresses. I realise you had to give him something.”
Jimmy still didn’t answer but, no matter, there would be plenty of time to chat later. He gave Jimmy a packaged sarnie and a bottle of water, which he’d also picked up from the petrol station, and watched him gratefully receive them.
“Take your wig off, silly; it’ll get in the way while you eat.”
Moxley had already eaten and all he really wanted to do was to hole down for the evening with Jimmy. But he knew tomorrow would be a busy day and there was still much to do. All these new tasks were coming at him; he’d have to leave Stench the Screw until later. He had to prioritise.
“I’ve got a little treat for you later, Jimmy,” Moxley said, enjoying the look of surprise on Jimmy’s face as he stopped chewing and gazed at him. “I know, I know; but you’ll have to wait. There are things I have to do first.” Moxley turned and headed for the stairs. He heard Jimmy sigh as he did; probably disappointed at having to wait.
The Badge & the Pen Thrillers Page 9
