Wrong Place: A gripping serial killer crime thriller.

by M A Comley

  “I believe so.”

  Sally contemplated his answer for a moment or two. “Okay, once you’ve chased that up, I want you and Stuart to revisit all the victims’ places of work and see if any of the staff or customers recognise the man in the sketch.”

  “Yes, boss. Umm… what about the media? Is it worth sharing the details with them now?” Jordan asked.

  “I’m still inclined to wait until the DNA result of the latest victim is back before we involve them.”

  “Fair enough,” Jordan replied.

  “I know it seems like we’re caught in a loop, re-examining all the information we’ve gathered already, but it’s out of necessity, folks. I have a feeling something isn’t quite adding up, and I’ll be buggered if I know what. Okay, let’s get to it. Jack, I’ll be sifting through the latest shit that has landed on my desk this morning. I also need to ring the council about my parents’ situation. Give me a shout the second the DNA results turn up, all right?”

  “Yes, boss. Have fun.”

  “If I had a cocktail in my hand whilst carrying out the chore, I might think differently about the task. Unfortunately, that’s not on the agenda.”

  Around eleven that morning, Jack disturbed Sally’s concentration. He stood in the doorway, triumphantly waving the piece of paper in his large hand.

  “DNA? Quick, give it to me.” She tore the sheet of paper from his hand and hungrily read the results. Glancing up at him, she bounced back in her chair. “I knew it! Dorling! How the fuck can that be? He was safely tucked away in a cell when the last murder was committed.”

  “I don’t have a clue, unless someone is trying to set him up.”

  “Hmm… that’s got to be a possibility. He did appear shocked when we arrested him. There’s always been a doubt in my mind. I suppose we should consider going to visit him, see if he can enlighten us about this new revelation.”

  “I’ll call the prison, let them know we’re on our way.”

  “You do that. I’ll be ten minutes, max, here.”

  Jack left the office and rushed back through the door a few minutes later. “You’re not going to like this.”

  “Go on. Surprise me.” Her eyes rolled up to the ceiling.

  “Dorling tried to kill himself with a bedsheet. The guard managed to prevent him from fulfilling his aim. He’s in the prison hospital now.”

  “Jesus. Do you think someone got to him in prison? Was he on someone’s payroll and has screwed up, maybe?”

  “I don’t know. The incident occurred after lights out, so he was alone in his cell.”

  “What? No cellmate?” Sally asked.

  “Apparently his cellmate had just been released. They hadn’t found a replacement to fill his bunk. Maybe that’s why Dorling took the opportunity to carry out his deed.”

  “So, when will we be able to question him? Did the prison staff give you any indication on that?”

  “I asked. Not until the end of the week. They reckon he’ll be in and out of consciousness until then. He was minutes away from death, apparently.”

  “Crap! Well, we’ve just got to keep doing what we’re doing until we can visit him. That’s the only option available to us right now.”

  She stood and threw him a pound coin. “Grab us both a coffee, and I’ll meet you at the board. We’ll have an in-depth look, see if anything comes to light.”

  “It’ll be a waste of time, but what other choice do we have until we speak to Dorling?” Jack grumbled.

  After finishing their drinks, they still hadn’t come up with anything they had managed to miss before. So they did it all again. This time, Sally took a red marker pen and drew lines on the board. “Oh my God! Are you seeing what I’m seeing, Jack?”

  “All I’m looking at is you making a mess.”

  “Look at the dates. More importantly, the days.” She turned sideways and studied the changing expressions on his face. “Come on. Now I’ve said that, it should be obvious.”

  “To you, maybe. But then, that’s nothing new. Who knows what goes on it that head of yours most of the time.”

  “Cut the sarcastic comments and concentrate.”

  Jack still couldn’t grasp what she was getting at, even with the clue she’d dropped. She exhaled a large breath. “You really need to work on those observational skills, partner. Everyone, gather around, please.”

  The team joined them, and she asked the group, “Look at the dates, team. What do you see?”

  Silence filled the room for a few moments, then Joanna called out, “They’re either Sundays or Mondays. Is that what you’re hinting at, boss?”

  “Spot on, Joanna. Go to the top of the class. And what does that tell us?”

  Sally’s gaze latched on to Jack again. He fidgeted on the spot until Joanna spoke, “Are you insinuating the killer only visits the area on a Sunday or Monday, boss?”

  “Either that, or the killer has some form of weird shift pattern. It’s something we’ve missed and should look into right away. Let’s start making a list of possible jobs and go from there.” Sally moved over to the clean whiteboard and wrote “lorry driver” at the top of the board.

  “How does a lorry driver work shifts?” Jack asked.

  “He doesn’t. I’m trying to think outside the box a little. What if a driver delivers regularly in the area on a Sunday, Monday, and Tuesday? I’m looking at the angle of someone being on the road rather than working a shift in a factory. Stick with me here.”

  “I think I get where you’re heading. How are we going to find out?”

  Sally tutted at her partner’s failure to think for himself. “By ringing the haulage firms in the area. That might be a good start, yes?”

  “But there’s a car, not a lorry, on our radar, isn’t there?” Jack queried.

  “You’re right. However, these drivers don’t tend to take the lorries they drive home with them, Jack. They would use their own vehicles to drive to and from base, wouldn’t they?”

  “Okay, it was only an observation. No need to snap my head off. I’ll check into it.” Jack’s shoulders slumped as he made his way back to his desk.

  Sally knew his outburst was born out of frustration and chose to ignore it. “Any other possibilities?”

  “Like you say, shift workers. People working in a factory. Are there any around the area?” Jordan asked.

  “Why don’t you find that out, Jordan? I know of at least two factories in the area. See if you can find any others, okay? I’m struggling to recall the names.”

  The detective rushed back to his seat and tapped the keys on his computer. “Boss, that’s a negative. Just the two you suggested, from what I can see.”

  “Get them on the phone, see what kind of shifts they work. Anything else?” Sally asked the rest of the team.

  Joanna shrugged. “Some kind of salesman, the travelling variety. Not sure how we’ll be able to track down that kind of information, boss.”

  “That’s a toughie. I like the idea, though. What if there’s a connection to the pubs? Do salesmen visit pubs?”

  “I could ring the pubs where the victims worked and ask,” Joanna offered.

  “Do that. How would that connect to our last victim, I wonder? She wasn’t a barmaid.”

  “What if the rep sells savoury snacks? Petrol stations stock them, don’t they?” Jordan proposed.

  “You’re right. Guys, I think we might finally be getting somewhere.”

  The team busied themselves making call after call, and Sally’s heart swelled with pride at their enthusiasm. When six o’clock arrived, she dismissed the team and entered her office with the intention of making several calls. The first call she made was to the vet to see how Dex was faring. He was still sedated, but Dr. Munroe had managed to strap up the ribs to ease his discomfort. Next, Sally rang her parents to share the news and see if everything at home was all right. “Hi, Mum. Has everything been quiet around there today?”

  “Yes, dear. I’ve stayed inside most of the d
ay. I did look out the window once or twice to see if the neighbours were up to any mischief, but with you locking that little bugger up, things seem to be a bit calmer.”

  “Well, I’ve got news on that front. I rang the council to lodge a complaint against the family. They informed me that they’d already issued the family with a final warning and will be following through on that warning and serving them an eviction order.”

  “Wow, really? How wonderful.”

  “Great news, except there’s every chance the family might kick off when they’re turfed out. If we can pin the council down to a definite day when that is going to take place, I could get uniformed police to patrol the area. It would put all our minds at ease, yes?”

  “It would indeed, love. Have you rung the vets?”

  “Yep, just got off the phone to him. Dex is still sedated, but recovering well. He’s young. I’m sure he’ll be fine once his bones knit together, Mum.”

  “You’re full of good news today. What time will you be home? I’ve made toad in the hole for dinner.”

  Sally groaned. “Bugger, I love that, but I’m going to pull an all-nighter, Mum. I have shitloads of paperwork and an interesting development has cropped up on the case that I want to focus on.”

  “You can’t do that. Come home and start afresh tomorrow, love.”

  “I’ll grab a few hours in the chair, Mum. I need to do it. I quite often do this. You just never hear about it.” Sally laughed when her mother gasped.

  “How dreadful! I had no idea. Your father won’t be happy to hear about that.”

  “I’m a grown woman. He’ll have to lump it. I’m going before the lecture goes OTT. See you both tomorrow.”

  “I know it’s pointless to argue with you. Take care, darling.”

  Sally hung up and immersed herself in the paperwork that had built up over the past few days. She finally gave into exhaustion and fell asleep at around one in the morning.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  A few days later, and with no other murders to contend with, Sally received the call from the prison to say that Dorling had regained consciousness and was now available to interview. She grabbed the sketch of the suspect and prodded Jack in the back as she walked through the incident room. “Time to go, partner.”

  “Where are we going?” He trotted to catch up with her on the stairs.

  “Prison. We’ve got the all-clear to speak to Dorling.”

  “Hey, there’s one thing that’s bugging me about this.”

  She stopped on the stairs and looked at him. “What’s that?”

  “If it turns out that Dorling is innocent, in spite of the DNA pointing him out to be the killer, then surely he should be released, shouldn’t he?”

  “One step at a time, Jack. Let’s see what he has to say first.”

  During the journey, Sally contemplated her partner’s words. If Dorling was innocent, someone must have set him up. But who? And for what reason? Maybe showing him the sketch would help him answer that himself.

  The prison warden, Ted Mountford, greeted them and showed Jack and Sally into the hospital wing. All the beds were empty, except one. They approached Dorling’s bed; he had his eyes closed.

  “Dorling, are you awake?” Mountford shook the man’s shoulder gently.

  Dorling’s left eye opened lazily and blinked shut again. “No. Go away,” he replied groggily.

  “Wake up. The police are here to see you.”

  “I’m tired. I’ve got nothing to say. They wouldn’t believe me anyway. That’s the bitch who banged me up.”

  “Less of the insults, man. Wake up!” Warden Mountford’s voice grew in volume.

  Sally tugged on the warden’s arm and moved closer to the bed. “Dorling, if you cooperate with us, I’ll do my very best to get you out of here. I promise.”

  “Ha! When the filth makes a promise, I know you’re lying.”

  “Not in my case, I assure you. Can you open your eyes and look at me?”

  “No. For one thing, I can’t keep them open for long because of the drugs they’re pumping into me, and for another, why would I want to look at an ugly bitch like you?”

  “That’s enough, Dorling. Show some respect,” the warden said.

  “To someone who banged up an innocent man? That’ll be me by the way. I told her I didn’t do it, but she wouldn’t listen.”

  “I’m sorry. At the time, we had DNA proof that put you at the scene. We call that incriminating evidence and find it hard to ignore.”

  “So what’s changed? You didn’t believe me then. Why now?”

  Sally sighed and pulled the sketch from her pocket. “Since then, another murder has been committed, while you were in here. Please, I have a picture of a possible suspect, if you’ll just open your eyes and look at the likeness our sketch artist drew.”

  “I told you I wouldn’t be able to focus. Another murder, you say?”

  “Yes, the thing is, the murderer left your DNA at the scene.”

  Dorling sat upright in bed, his eyes twitching furiously but refusing to open. “What? How is that possible? Unless one of your lot effing done it, that is. You guys are known for tampering with evidence, ain’t ya? Well, this time, it’s come back and taken a chunk out of your arse, lady.”

  “I really don’t think that’s the case. Please, look at the sketch.” Sally implored the prisoner.

  One eye eased open, then the other. Before long, they clamped shut again, the effort proving to be too much for Dorling. “Nope, no help. Sorry.”

  “Please try harder. Give me a break. It’s your skin I’m trying to save here.”

  He tried a second time, with the same agonising, lacklustre result. “I can’t. Come back in a few days.”

  Warden Mountford shook his head and escorted them from the room. “It’s no good. I don’t think he’s playing silly buggers, either. You’re aware of what injuries occur when someone tries to hang themselves, aren’t you?”

  “Yeah, I’m aware. Possible tearing of the eye muscles from the force.” He nodded. “Okay, we’ll leave it a few days and return on Monday. How’s that?”

  “Sounds good to me. Sorry you’ve had a wasted trip.”

  Once they were settled in the car, Sally struck the steering wheel with her hand. “Shit! You know what this means, don’t you?”

  “No, what?”

  She exhaled an impatient breath. “The weekend is fast approaching.”

  “Sunday and Monday are when the killer strikes. I understand. Have you got any plans for the weekend?”

  “I have to pick Dex up from the vet’s tonight, then I plan on making a fuss of him for the next few days—while mulling over the case, of course.”

  “Why am I not surprised about that? You working the case on your weekend off, I mean.”

  “What about you?” She started the car and drove out of the prison car park.

  “Same old thing: Confrontation City, dead ahead.”

  She glanced at him then looked back at the road. “I thought things had settled down at home?”

  “They have slightly. It’s still like walking on a frozen lake, though. One wrong step, and you end up in the drink, gasping for breath.”

  “Families! Don’t you just love them?”

  “Not particularly, no!”

  Back at the station, they found Detective Chief Inspector Mike Green standing at the whiteboard in the incident room.

  “Hello, sir. Can I help at all?” Sally asked.

  He continued to read the information, his arms folded and his brow furrowed. “I just thought I’d drop by so that you can bring me up to date on the case, Inspector, as you’ve neglected to do that particular task so far, in spite of my instructions.”

  “Not intentional, I assure you, sir. The facts have been very hard to come by on this one.”

  He unfurled one of his arms and tapped the top of the board with his outstretched finger. “DNA evidence is usually the key to any investigation, isn’t it, Inspector?”<
br />
  “Ordinarily it is, sir. However, at the moment, it’s all very confusing. We arrested and charged a man for three of the murders, but then another victim landed on our patch with the man’s DNA. The thing is, he was behind bars at the time of the murder, so there is no chance he carried out the crime.”

  “I see. What sort of DNA? Semen again?”

  “Yes, sir. That type of DNA is hard to discount, as you can imagine.”

  “So, what do you intend doing about it, Inspector?” his eyes remained on the board as he asked the question.

  Sally gulped. “Our hands are tied right now, sir. We do have an initial sketch of another suspect, but I don’t think it’s a good likeness, to be honest. We’ve shown it to all the possible witnesses and haven’t produced a single name as yet.”

  He slowly swivelled to face her, and his eyes widened once they landed on her face. “What the?”

  Self-consciously, she looked away from her superior. “It’s nothing, sir.”

  He marched past her. “In your office, now.”

  Sally raised her eyes to the ceiling and told Jack to hold the fort. “Make sure everyone is chasing up what they need to chase, Jack. Looks like I’m in for a bumpy ride. Let’s try not piss him off any more than we have to, eh?”

  The chief held open the door until she’d joined him. He slammed it shut after she’d sat in her chair behind the desk, which thankfully, she’d managed to clear a little. “In my defence, sir, one black eye was caused in the line of duty.”

  He lowered himself into the chair opposite her and shook his head. “Why didn’t you tell me about this? It’s hardly professional to perform one’s duties as a serving detective looking as though you’ve gone ten rounds with Manny Pacquiao. What sort of image of the Norfolk Constabulary does that portray?”

  “Accidents occur, sir. There was little I could do about dodging a suspect’s fist this time. I did try,” she stated, skirting the truth.

  “Nevertheless, you should have informed me. Wait a minute… one eye, you said—how did the other eye get blackened then?”

  Sally glanced out at the blue sky and sighed. “The other was a deliberate act by my ex-hubby.”