by Nathan Sayer
Navigating the foliage with care, the distinct vibrations of bass from somebody’s stereo was getting stronger and louder. A few steps further and it was obvious that it was coming from number seven. Gulliver had his music playing at an ear piercing level despite knowing the officers were coming to see him. Perhaps he thought that he could keep them away with noise alone, and to be fair, by the sound of the techno dance music resonating in Reed’s ears it could work, but he refused to give up that easy so he thumped on the door with the heel of his fist.
“I’m really going to like this lad. I can tell.” Reed said, making Tyler smile.
With the music continuing and no sign of anybody at the door, Reed braced himself by putting a hand either side of the door, leaning his weight forward against the wall, then he kind of danced along to the beat before kicking his left foot against the base of door, making sure it was completely out of sync to the beat of the music.
“What the fuck is . . .” Gulliver was screaming as the door flew open.
“I was going to ask you the same thing.” Reed said, still leaning in, still holding on to the wall ready if the door was to shut again. Gulliver’s face was no more than a few inches away from his and he watched as the realization of who was on his doorstep crept over it. Gathering himself together, Gulliver motioned for the officers to follow him inside.
The flat was omitting a smell of stale marijuana even before they stepped in through the front door. Gulliver had darted to the left to what was probably the lounge; the kitchen was visible through a small arch at the end of the hall. There were two heavy fire doors on the right, a bathroom and bedroom Reed guessed. He thought it was funny that the most likely source of fire, the kitchen, was the only room without a fire door.
Tyler’s face was one of disapproval as they entered the dank, smelly lounge. Despite there being windows at either end of the room, the scum that had accumulated on them was filtering out most of the natural light. The only artificial light inside was coming from a tall lamp in the corner and that was struggling to do the job it was designed for under an old fashioned brown lampshade.
Gulliver had moved quickly to turn the music off and was already sat down in a chair; he was perched on the edge of the seat looking down, fiddling with one of his gold rings. Reed and Tyler were left to occupy the sofa. Reed sat first, and then Tyler followed. She sank deeper than Reed despite her being about four stone lighter. Her feet actually came off the floor and she let slip a small yelp. Both men stared at her as she shifted around trying to find a firm area where the springs might still have some life in them. In the end she organised herself onto the front edge of the seat, her face a bright crimson.
“Get on with your neighbours with all that noise do you?” Tyler asked harshly, angry that she had not been warned about the broken chair.
“What? They’re alright actually.” Gulliver replied, not realising it was their opinion of him that she was after. Stopping herself short of calling Gulliver names she could get in trouble for, she looked to Reed to take over.
“As you must be aware, Carmella Chapman’s body has been found which means our investigation has changed from a missing person to a murder enquiry,” Reed paused, giving the words time to settle into Gulliver’s brain, “Her body was found on Thetford Common and I wanted to check with you to see if on the night you gave her a lift home whether you stopped or passed there?”
“No, I’ve already told your lot the way we went.” Gulliver snapped.
“I know you have but I have new questions for you and in order to ask these I need to confirm a few things along the way.” Reed explained as though he was talking to a three year old, and mentally, who knew? “So my next question is: When you dropped Carmella off, did you notice anything suspicious?”
Gulliver made a mock of thinking, raising a finger to his chin and looking skywards, “Yes. There was a man with a sign saying ‘I’m a murderer!’ I just didn’t mention it before. No, I didn’t see anything, I’ve already told you.”
“Mr Gulliver, if our questions are worrying you, we can do this at the police station in a formal capacity. You’re free to request a solicitor no matter where you are. Our intention at the beginning of this interview was to gather information; however, your sarcasm and general demeanor are making me just a little suspicious.” Tyler said.
“It’s your call?” Reed chipped in.
Gulliver dropped his tough guy act straight away. His shoulders actually slumped. He seemed to disappear into his chair much the same as Tyler had earlier, just less dramatic. “I’m sorry,” he finally whispered, “I wish I could remember something. Having been the last one to see her alive, I know I’m a suspect; I’m not stupid. It’s frustrating that I can’t steer this away from me.”
“You’re just helping us with our enquiries at the moment, that’s all. Tell me what happened after you dropped her off. The route you took.” Reed asked.
“We took the A11 from Newmarket, turned off on the Thetford/Watton road and I dropped her off at the end of Bridgeham Road; I carried on, turned onto Diss Road and parked out there,” Gulliver nodded towards the car park Tyler had parked in. “Then I walked to my flat.”
“What time was it you arrived home?”
“It was about one in the morning.” `
“Can you be more specific?” Reed insisted.
“It was just before, 10 to 1.”
“Is there anyone who saw you get home, someone who could confirm the time? Just so we can really pinpoint the time you dropped Carmella off; it could make all the difference.”
“No. Not that I know of. It’s like I told the others, I hadn’t planned on getting mixed up in all of this.” Gulliver answered.
“What about Carmella, did she seem worried or upset?”
“No.”
Reed was surprised by the curt answer so he nodded his head and kept his eyes fixed on Gulliver. Silence can be a great weapon in interviews. Sometimes people could feel awkward and would just start to blabber on but Gulliver wasn’t playing the game. He looked awkward enough but he wasn’t going to start talking without being prompted.
Reed used the silence to process a couple things that might mean nothing or absolutely everything. Gulliver had stated that he was the last person to see Carmella alive and also indicated he was eager to steer the attention away from him. Were they the words of a nervous killer or the defensive words of an innocent person? The statement was true; he had been the last known person to see her alive and surely, any innocent person would want to clear their name as soon as possible.
“What exactly was your relationship with Carmella?” Tyler asked.
“I don’t know,” He said shyly. “We were kind of just getting to know each other.”
“How did you meet?”
“At Splitz, I know a couple of her mates and we got chatting.”
“Would you have considered yourselves a couple?”
“No. Not really.”
Tyler was jotting a few things down and Reed knew it wasn’t the words that were being spoken she was taking notes of, it would be her reaction to the words, whether she believed him or not, had he looked uncomfortable, those sorts of things.
Reed’s own feelings told him that he had a very real suspect.
Chapter 6
The fluid that had been poured over Carmella Chapman’s body had been confirmed as bleach. Reed had received a phone call from the Wymondham Forensic Department last night telling him so. Although the department was on the same site as the police station, it took a whole lot of red tape to get any information. There was a fence similar to that of a prison, complete with razor wire on top, which surrounded the building. This was to stop anybody breaking in and tampering with or removing any evidence. Reed thought that it should be enough of a deterrent being at the back of Norfolk’s biggest police station, but what did he know? If he wanted to enter the unit for any reason, he had to get a pass issued from Whitehead. Getting an out of hours phone call was a
bout as taboo as it got.
Reed was sat in his office trying to rub the sleepiness from his eyes. After he had taken the call from forensics last night he had called Tyler to let her know the news about the bleach. She had, in return, called him shortly after six this morning to tell him of something she had found. She had discovered a link between Carmella Chapman’s murder and that of another girl’s murder which had occurred in 2003. The body of Tina Westwood had been found less than 24 hours after she had gone missing in a small wooded area near a village called Ovington where the girl had lived with her parents.
Traces of bleach had been found on her chest and hands; it was a small amount, no more than you would have expected than if she had rested her hands on a freshly cleaned surface and shortly after touched her chest. At the time of the investigation the bleach had had no real significance; it wasn’t until now that it became potentially major. Something else that had piqued Reed’s interest was that Tina had only been wearing one earring when her body had been discovered and, from memory, Carmella hadn’t been wearing any despite her ears being pierced, which could mean nothing but most girls who had their ears pierced chose to decorate them for a night out. He would bear it in mind.
Tina Westwood was 17 years old at the time of her death. There was no obvious motive, no known enemies and as of yet there had been no conviction. Having told her parents she was going over to a friend’s house, she had left at around 6pm. She never arrived there and never came home again. Her friend hadn’t been expecting her and there had been very little hard evidence to work with. The police angled the investigation towards Tina meeting a boyfriend that nobody knew about, much to the disgust of her parents who insisted she wasn’t allowed one. The parent’s refusal to accept the possibility of a boyfriend enforced the police’s suspicion that she may have been keeping one a secret.
Her autopsy report showed that she had died from a single blow to the head with a blunt object, exactly the same way as Carmella was killed. The poor man who discovered her body was out on the Ovington fen walking his black Labrador when it disobeyed him for something more stimulating in one of the small forest areas just off the main track. When he went to investigate what it could be, he found Tina’s body.
Reed was trying to absorb as much information from the file that Tyler had compiled for him before driving to Tina Westwood’s parents’ house where he was meeting with Allison Mcleary, who had worked as the Family Liaison Officer at the time. He had asked her to attend because she was a familiar face and they needed to warn the family about the latest murder and the media attention it would bring. If the police had linked the two, the media wouldn’t be far behind, as per usual, and sometimes they were even ahead.
Reed parked on the brick-weave driveway behind a blue Ford Mondeo. The garden was neat and tidy with a huge willow tree as the main feature. The house was weathered like any other but no attempts had been made to rectify this. The paint on the windowsills had been left to flake and watermarks on the bricks revealed a broken drainpipe.
After greeting Reed, Mcleary led the way down the side of the house and rapped her knuckles on the door, despite there being a doorbell.
After a couple of seconds the door groaned open. Reed was surprised at the woman who poked her head out. Her greying hair was set into a lifeless bob and the fringe was cut in a straight horizontal line just above her eyebrows. When she felt safe enough to do so, she pulled the door open to reveal an old-fashioned floral dress, skin coloured tights and sensible black pumps. “Hello.” She offered a weak smile, “Please come in.”
“Thank you.” Mcleary replied before stepping in.
Mrs Susan Chapman stopped in the hallway and offered Reed a shy smile as a way of a hello before turning her attention back to Mcleary, “Please come through. Make yourselves comfortable and I’ll fetch some tea.”
As Reed was about to turn left into the lounge, he noticed a figure at the end of the hall moving from one side of a doorway to the other. The man, presumably Alan Westwood, glanced briefly in his direction but didn’t acknowledge that anybody was there, an empty expression set on his face. Reed guessed having your daughter murdered could do that.
Reed joined Mcleary in the lounge and Susan hurried down towards the kitchen. Faint whispering began instantly but the male’s raspy voice made no effort to hide itself, “I know that!” He said. Reed guessed the police presence in his house had finally been acknowledged.
With Mcleary settling into the comfort of an armchair, Reed took in his surroundings, the room felt small despite it running from the front to the back of the house. The light was on and the curtains were open but the room still felt dingy. It wasn’t dirt; in fact the room seemed well kept, somewhere near spotless. He wondered if it had more to do with the age of the decor. The wallpaper reminded him of an Indian restaurant he had dined at once. The TV was black and big, needing a separate cabinet of its own to sit on, not like the flat screen ones available now that could be hung on the wall to free up valuable space that was then left empty anyway.
Susan came in holding a tray, which Reed suspected had been prepared way in advance of their scheduled appointment. She sat it down on the coffee table and issued them with their cups.
“Sugar?” Susan asked looking at Reed.
“Two, please.”
“Still just the one for you, Allison?”
“Yes, although I’m not trying to keep my figure anymore, I’m trying to get it back!”
Susan laughed and waved the joke away to let her know she was being silly. Reed agreed with her. Mcleary was slim, attractive, and at 40 years old had an excellent figure. Reed, on the other hand, felt he was a little too tubby for a 38 year old. Mcleary had never been married or had children and never intended to either. She had informed Reed of this a few years ago whilst they had both been on the same training course. At lunchtimes they would take the short walk to the Whiffler pub and share a meal and a couple of drinks together. Socially their paths had never crossed again but they enjoyed working together.
Just as Susan finished pouring and stirring the drinks, Alan Westwood came in and sat down on a chair with the same demeanor as a young child who had been dragged to a particularly ugly aunt’s house where they would be showered with kisses. After another cup of tea had been poured and handed to him, Alan’s eyes settled on something towards the centre of the room on the floor. After trying to follow his line of his vision a full three times, Reed was still unsure what exactly he was looking at. The presence of the man brought an uneasy feeling to the room.
Susan looked to Allison to break the silence which she wasn’t about to do, so she looked to Reed, passing the responsibility to him.
“As I mentioned on the phone Mrs Westwood, we’re here to liaise with you regarding the murder of Carmella Chapman, just so you...”
“Did she kill Tina?” Alan cut in with enough volume to interrupt Reed but not enough so anyone could really hear the words.
“Sorry?” Reed looked to Alan, who stayed focused on the centre of the floor.
“DID. . . SHE. . . KILL. . . TINA?” Alan asked in a manner as though he were speaking to a foreign infant.
“We have absolutely no reason to suspect so sir.” Reed replied trying to keep his composure.
“Then I really don’t see what it’s got to do with us?”
“Alan!” Susan shrieked, letting him know in one word the embarrassment he was causing her.
Reed didn’t know the visit was of any good to the Westwoods either, the murder of another young girl reigniting the pain of ten years ago.
“Unfortunately there are similarities to Tina’s murder,” Mcleary took over, “No doubt the press will be linking them together and highlighting all the connections. I’m sure there will be some facts, but there will be some speculation thrown in for good measure. DI Reed and I wanted to warn you not to take too much notice as we understand that something like this could stir up a lot of old feelings for you both.”
“That is very considerate of you.” Susan said gratefully.
“Well, one thing I would like to point out,” Alan said calmly, finally looking up at Reed. “If it is a serial killer, which is what I’m guessing the press are going to suggest, it just highlights that you should have caught him in the first place.”
“Alan, please!” Susan shrieked again.
“It’s OK, Susan. We understand that this is upsetting. Alan, the investigation into your daughter’s death has never stopped. It never will.” Mcleary tried.
“No, I’m sure if the killer hands himself in, you’ll wrap it up a treat.”
“Excuse my husband, Detective.” Susan pleaded.
“No need. It’s fine. There’s no evidence of a serial killer, just some connections that could amount to nothing. That said, the press will link them together just to dramatise the story, things like the location and the fact they were both females around the same age. What we will do is give you any new information regarding your daughter’s murder so please try to ignore any speculation you might read or hear. If you have any doubts, any at all, give Allison a call or you can reach me on this number.” Reed stood and put his card on the table, making it clear it was time to leave. Alan stayed where he was, refocusing on the floor once again.
Susan saw them out and thanked them for their visit. She apologised again for her husband. Reed and Mcleary reassured her there was no need.
“What an asshole!” Reed said as soon as the door was shut.
“Don’t take it personally, he never thought too much of the police at the time.”
“His daughter was murdered and we never caught whoever was responsible, I get that. It left him with no-one to blame. As a parent, I think you must blame yourself a little no matter what the circumstances; maybe you feel that you should have taken more of an interest in her life so you knew what she was doing, just something you could have done differently. When you can’t take the guilt anymore, you take it out on the police because we’re there and within reach.”
