Deadly Focus

by R. C. Bridgestock

  ‘Oh, gosh, yes, but I never made the connection. How awful. Martin has put his details on the website. Just a minute,’ Liz said peering at the screen for confirmation. ‘He says he’s set up a tile shop in town,’ she said as she clicked onto the web page. ‘Trevor, if I recall correctly, had put a picture of himself with his wife and daughter. Oh, god, you don’t think it was someone in our class, do you?’ she said as she held her hand up to her mouth.

  ‘No, no, it’s just the family’s background that we’re looking at. We can’t leave anything to chance,’ Dawn reassured her, grabbing another mince pie.

  ‘You had me worried there for a minute. Look, some of these are photos from the night of the reunion. See her there, the one with the blonde hair? It used to be so long she could sit on it. She married a lottery millionaire.’

  ‘Interesting. Do you think I could have copies of the lists and the pictures, please, Liz?’

  ‘Sure. It might take a while to print them off. Help yourself to more tea and mince pies whilst I do it for you.’

  ‘Thank you. I’d like you to keep this to yourself at the moment, Liz. The last thing we want is for people to panic,’ Dawn said, with her mouth full.

  ‘No problem. I used to be a Girl Guide, you know, duty to God, serve the Queen and all that.’ She laughed with three fingers pointed in a salute to her brow.

  The printer made a constant burr as the head went from side to side, spewing paper onto the floor. Liz tried to retrieve it in page order.

  ‘This is so good of you, Liz. I’ll get you a replacement cartridge and some paper.’

  ‘No, no, I wouldn’t hear of it,’ she said. Liz Green presented Dawn with the printed information she had requested, plus photographs with names added, all neatly stacked and placed in a folder.

  ‘Thank you for your hospitality, Liz, I am really grateful to you. Merry Christmas.’

  ‘Oh, that’s no problem at all. I’m just glad to help and I hope those,’ she said pointing to the folder, ‘Are useful to you. Merry Christmas to you too.’

  ‘Oh, final thing. Do you remember anyone having any major arguments or grudges at school? You know, really bad fall outs?’

  ‘Kids row, don’t they? But there’s nothing that stands out in my mind as anything out of the ordinary, no,’ she said. ‘There were loud people, lads can be bossy, girls bitchy, but I was a bit of a geek at school, believe it or not,’ she laughed. ‘So I never really got involved.’

  ‘Thanks again, Liz. And please keep this to yourself for now. We don’t want people getting the wrong idea, do we? It’s just a routine enquiry, but some put two and two together and make five.’

  Chapter Twenty

  That evening Dylan was home on time, but still with his bulging briefcase in tow. Carol singers stood in the porch, and he smiled as he listened to them.

  ‘The dads know each other,’ he announced to Jen as he took his coat off and hung it up in the hallway.

  ‘Really?’ Tea’ll be ready in a minute if you want to come sit down, love. Want a glass of wine?’

  ‘A bottle.’ Dylan joined her in the kitchen, Max in his wake.

  ‘If they knew each other, why didn’t they tell you before?’ she asked, as she greeted him with a kiss.

  ‘They didn’t realise they did,’ he said cuddling her from behind as she stirred the contents of the pan on the stove. ‘Mm, something smells good,’ he said, pinching her spoon and tasting the gravy.

  She smiled. ‘But they do now?’

  ‘Yes. They were at school together and went to a reunion back in October.’

  Dylan relaxed over their meal. Jen didn’t say anything, but he was quieter than usual and she knew he would be mulling over the new information.

  Miraculously, he wasn’t called out on Christmas Day. The turkey he’d imagined he could smell for weeks was delicious and, as it was the season of goodwill to all men, he assumed that meant dogs too, and plated Max up a turkey dinner, although he knew they would suffer later from the rancid smell of the dog breaking wind. It was only after he sat down following their Christmas dinner that he noticed how lovely Jen’s decorations made the house and tree look. In fact, it was the first time he had been in the house long enough to sit in the lounge since the decorations had been put up. She had bought him a gold onyx signet ring along with a silk tie.

  ‘It’s a lucky tie,’ she said.

  He watched her every move and he caught her watching him, making sure he was taking it easy. She insisted he rest. Jen bossed him and he loved it that she cared so much. He felt lucky he had found her. She was nine years his junior and he didn’t know why she had chosen him to be with, but he was so glad she had. It was the best bit of detective work he had ever done, finding her; he was sure of that.

  The table was empty and the dishwasher full. ‘Let’s watch a DVD, eh? Mum and Dad sent me Sense and Sensibility for Christmas,’ Jen said, as she crouched down to switch on the DVD player. She jumped back on the settee and settled in the crook of Jack’s arm.

  ‘Mm, it should be like this every night. Thank you so much for my present, I love it,’ she said, holding her arm up in the air to show off the bracelet that Jack had bought for her.

  ‘You’re my best present,’ he told her, kissing the top of her head and cuddling her tight. ‘Have you missed going to the Isle of Wight this year and spending Christmas with your mum and dad? We could have a week there soon. What do you think?’

  ‘You, have a whole week off work?’ She turned to him in surprise. ‘Don’t make me laugh,’ she said prodding him playfully in the stomach.

  ‘No,’ he laughed. ‘I mean it, honest I do. Book it now if you like.’

  ‘Yeah, sure, whatever,’ she smiled snuggling up to him.

  Dylan had to prise himself from bed for work the next day. Jen’s body was so warm and inviting, and it was freezing cold when he tested the temperature outside the bedcovers with one arm and leg.

  ‘Morning. Happy Boxing Day.’ Dawn was already in the office when Dylan walked through the door.

  ‘Good Christmas?’ asked Dylan.

  ‘Well, let’s see, Ralph worked, drank too much, and slept most of the time we did have together, and I’m here today. So you could say it’s business as usual. You?’

  ‘Yeah, quiet, you know. Thought you two were trying for a family?’

  ‘Not much chance for that, is there, at the moment. We don’t see each other enough,’ Dawn laughed. ‘Press Office has been on the phone wanting to know if there’s anything that we can give them to renew the appeals.’

  ‘I was actually thinking we might do Crimewatch. We need to do whatever it takes to nail the bastard.’

  ‘Whatever what takes?’ asked Larry, as he entered the room, lobster red.

  ‘You been on the sun bed again?’ asked Dawn. ‘Don’t you listen to all the warnings about skin cancer?’

  Larry pulled a face behind her back.

  ‘I thought you were off today?’ Dylan said, studying the Chief Constable’s log to catch up on events that had taken place in the force over the last couple of days.

  ‘Couldn’t keep away. You know me, Mr. Conscientious himself.’ He slumped in a chair and proceeded to read Christmas Eve’s Harrowfield Times.

  ‘More like Mr. Saddo hasn’t got a life,’ commented Dawn.

  ‘Can you speak to the Press Office for me, Larry, and tell them we are thinking of doing the reconstruction?’ asked Dylan.

  ‘Yeah, yeah,’ Larry said nonchalantly, turning over the pages of the paper.

  ‘Now would be a good time.’ Dylan’s voice rose. Larry snapped the paper shut and reached for the phone.

  ‘How did you get on with Liz Green, Dawn? Anything?’ Dylan asked.

  ‘She printed me off a list of people in their school year, and also gave me pictures and a list of who attended the reunion.’ Dawn handed them to Dylan as she spoke.

  ‘Fantastic. Firstly, let’s get the names on those lists onto HOLMES,’ said Dylan.
<
br />   ‘She said the “do” was uneventful.’

  Dylan brooded over the list.

  ‘She remembered Martin, Trevor, and Barry as noisy, loud boys who knocked about together, but that was about it.

  ‘Well, it’s the only connection we’ve got, so let’s see who else’s on the list.’ He passed the printed sheet over to Larry. ‘Whilst you’re looking at that I’m off to Tandem Bridge to look at the feasibility of using a room or the attic there for exhibits.’

  Dylan intentionally took the route passing the locations where the bodies had been dumped.

  The car park was almost empty when he arrived. He strolled across the yard thinking what a lovely morning as he breathed the cold, crisp air deep into his lungs. The sun was shining, but it didn’t have any warmth. A perfect day for walking the dog and he was at work. Typical. The station was quiet. It being a Bank Holiday, only skeleton staff were working and he strolled around without seeing a soul. As he approached the attic, he saw two large rooms which spanned the entire area of the station. They were already racked, and although the ceilings sloped, there was plenty of standing room. Pleased with his find, he walked down the steps to his car. His mobile rang and echoed loudly in the empty reception area.

  ‘Boss, it’s Larry. The Spencers have just found what they believe to be part of Christopher’s brace in a card put into the post box at the bottom of their driveway.’

  ‘The bastard. Well, he’s linked them for us now, hasn’t he?’ Dylan said.

  ‘I’m going over there, so I’ll ensure everything is preserved for DNA. Luckily Clive and Fran were there when they found it. Sarah is hysterical.’

  ‘Who wouldn’t be? Look, I’m on my way back to Harrowfield. Is Dawn still with you, Larry?’

  ‘Yeah, she’s still going through the lists and photos.’

  ‘Tell her to get the kettle on. I won’t be long. I’ll see you there when you’ve been to the Spencers’ house.’ Dylan was only fifteen minutes away and Dawn was waiting for him with the warm drink and a mince pie.

  ‘Well, boss, what a get this one’s turning out to be. How evil can he get?’

  ‘It’s officially connected the two murders now, though. How you doing with the reunion stuff?’

  ‘It’s laborious, but I’ll get there. It’s got to be something to do with the dads now, hasn’t it?’

  ‘Got to be,’ agreed Dylan

  ‘This list has got thirty-two names on it and most of them we haven’t seen yet. I’ll make sure Barry Sanderson goes to the top of the pile. That’s him there.’ Dawn pointed him out in the photograph to Dylan; he was standing to the left of Martin. The snap was no different from Dylan’s own school group picture. The teachers were to the side with the tallest boys centre back. Girls in pretty school dresses sat elegantly in the front, legs to one side and skirts fanned out. Most displayed forced smiles and one or two had their eyes closed. The pictures of the reunion evening were so different. There were men and women with arms around each other. Everyone looked as if they were having a good time, a glass half-full raised in their hands.

  ‘Hey, isn’t that Harold?’

  ‘Who?’ said Dawn, screwing up her eyes to scrutinize the picture.’

  ‘You know, Harold Little, the property man. The fella that’s off sick with a twisted ankle. Here, have a closer look,’ Dylan said, handing Dawn a magnifying glass.

  ‘Yeah, I’m sure it’s our “Little Harold” in the background.’ Dawn laughed. ‘Fancy that. Look, Liz has written some names on the back of another one he is in, hold on, let’s have a look. She’s written “Little Wilky”.’

  ‘Sure it’s not “Little Willy”?’ Dylan laughed. ‘There’s an “H. Wilkinson” on the back of the school picture, but not an “H. Little”. How weird. He hasn’t changed much has he? She’s probably just mistaken.’

  Larry walked into the office as Dawn poured the drinks. ‘You must be able to smell coffee; I’ll get you a cup.’ Larry nodded as she passed him.

  ‘A white envelope, boss, with a Harrowfield postmark. It’s addressed to “Mr. & Mrs. Spencer”. It’s bagged and tagged and ready to go off to forensic on your say so. The card says “Happy Christmas”. Right.’ Larry scoffed.

  ‘Take it over personally, will you. There should be someone working. How’re Martin and Sarah, or don’t I need to ask?’

  ‘Absolutely distraught. Martin is angry and Sarah is beside herself. I’ve left Clive and Fran trying to console them. They simply can’t understand how anyone could be so brutally cruel.’

  ‘Me neither. Before you go, you know Harold Little, don’t you? Would you say that’s him?’ Dylan slid the reunion picture and the ‘Class of 75’ over the desk to Larry.

  ‘That’s him, yeah. Oh, god, he’s no kids, has he?’

  ‘Don’t know, but we better find out quick. If it is him, he needs seeing just like the rest of the class,’ Dylan said grumpily. ‘We’ve prioritised Barry Sanderson. We need to know if Barry has got kids too. What worries me is if they’d be next on the list if these groups of men are targets. Let’s get the team to rattle the cages of the “Class of 75” and see what drops out.’

  Chapter Twenty-One

  The hearses drew up at the church. Daisy’s coffin looked minute. Floral tributes spelled her name. The second car’s tributes replicated the first, spelling out MUM and GRAN. Dylan stood close to Wendy and Trevor and watched the cortege behind the hearses shining in the morning sun. The highly polished cars gleamed and the combination of the church setting and the fragrance of the flowers as the coffins were carried forward through the cascading sunlight made him feel like he was in another dimension. Music spilled from within the church as teachers, friends, and townspeople surrounded the outside.

  ‘Gosh, Mum, you and Daisy didn’t realise you’d so many friends, did you? Look after each other now won’t you?’ Wendy whispered to the coffins as were carried by.

  Dylan thought he saw Wendy’s heart lift for a second as a spasm of joy came over her face. As he walked into the building the scent of the magnificent flowers was intoxicating, the colours so varied, the blossoms so perfect. It was a quiet, loving service that moved people to tears. Trevor gave an emotional eulogy with Wendy standing by him for support. Victoria, one of Daisy’s school friends, read out a short poem on behalf of the school. They had all come to pay their respects. It was time for the coffins to be transported one last time, to the graveyard. As they were laid to rest side by side, Trevor had to hold Wendy upright. Dawn used her hankie, but not because she was hungry this time. Dylan tortured himself with the fact that he didn’t know why and by whom Daisy had been murdered; it was a thorn in his side. He needed to find this murderer, for the families. The jigsaw was missing some important pieces and until he found them he couldn’t complete the picture.

  Dylan suddenly had the urge to speak to Jen and he rang her as he lingered in the grounds of the church. ‘Hi love, funeral’s over,’ he said. ‘It was so sad.’ There was a pause, but he knew she was listening. ‘It made me realise something. This family had planned the funeral with so much love, but if I died no one would do that for me, except you. I wanted to tell you how much I love you.’ He fought to swallow a lump that rose in his throat.

  ‘Me too.’ Was all she could say. Dylan knew she was in an office full of people by the noise in the background. He hung up.

  As soon as he got back to the incident room, Dylan rang forensic and read and re read the statements he had been given. His earlier sadness had turned into frustration; Dylan was like a bear with a sore head.

  ‘What’s happening? Any breakthrough?’ he asked around the room. Blank faces met his. ‘You won’t find Daisy’s killer sitting at that bloody desk. You need to be out there,’ he yelled, pointing to the door. Not able to bring himself to say goodbye he picked up his coat and strode out into the night air.

  Jen was waiting for him. She wrapped her arms around him and held him tight. He closed his eyes and enjoyed the moment. Neither of the
m spoke; they didn’t need to.

  ‘You’re really quiet. Are you okay?’ she asked as she reached out to him on the sofa that evening.

  He nodded. ‘Going to the funeral today made me think. What do I want to do with the rest of my life and who do I want to spend it with?’

  ‘Gosh, that sounds ominous.’ She looked at him, trying to make light of how heavy the conversation was getting, but he just cuddled her to him.

  ‘I’m so glad I found you,’ he said into her hair as he breathed in deeply. ‘I just feel as if I am rolling from one murder to another and not getting on with my own life.’

  ‘It’ll be easier once you’ve got him, and you will.’

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  With the two investigations now merged, the uniform briefing room had to be used to get all the staff in. There was a packed audience as Dylan, Dawn, and Larry took their positions at the front for the debrief. As usual, Dylan went around the room and asked what each and every one of them had been doing. In turn, the officers updated the team about the particular line of enquiry they’d dealt with during the day. Some had traced and interviewed class members attending the reunion, but no one reported anything untoward on that night. One officer had been to see a psychic, Madame Romany. The officer told the assembled room that she’d been having visions, and she was sure it was of the murderer.

  ‘I asked her to describe this man,’ the officer said. ‘She said he was a man of great stature, a scar across his face, long blonde hair, and he had been a Viking in a former life.’ The officer mimicked the psychic, speaking dramatically, and throwing his arms about as he spoke. ‘I asked her if she would be able to identify him again. She replied with a surprised look that it shouldn’t be a problem as there weren’t many Vikings in Tandem Bridge.’

  The room was in uproar.

  ‘She also said he visited her in bed most nights. Then she offered me an open invitation to come back and see for myself.’ DC Sharpe had the whole room in stitches; a bit of light-heartedness, but a genuine enquiry nonetheless. It took the edge off the burden the room was carrying. ‘And before you ask, boss, I’m not returning even for the good of the job. I’m not that brave.’