A Killer's Calling: Incite to Murder 1

by John Stuart Owen

  ‘This is something we carry for emergencies . . . now drink! There's no better muti.’

  Ten minutes later, the sombre mood had been replaced by a smiling boisterous party atmosphere. ‘I think you need to call up your Inspector Boyo’. He needs to see this.’

  Bryn Williams was surprised to get another call. ‘I’ll be with you in half an hour.’

  With the DVR set up to cover the last day’s activity, they waited for Bryn to arrive. ‘Do you think there’s enough there to point finger?’

  ‘Let’s find out Andy; your copper is here.’ As he spoke, Bryn walked into the hallway. He was eager to see what had been uncovered. They all watched, enthralled by the comings and goings. Kevin Crystal’s return, after checking out, held particular significance.

  ‘We need to speak to him; he was the last one to pass through before the postman discovered your Mom.’

  ‘Inspector, I know it’s not my place to make demands or anything but . . . I would like you to bring back those two detectives from up country to have a look at this new evidence. I mean we didn’t know we had a crime until they came on the scene!’

  ‘And we still don’t know if we have a crime . . . but yes, I take your point.

  They need to identify this person. See if it is the man that they are pursuing. Leave it with me Andrew.’

  Chapter 54

  It was Monday morning; Matt Black pulled into the car park at Leek Wooton Police Headquarters. The weekend had dragged and he wanted to renew his pursuit of Kevin Crystal.

  He looked around for Orla’s car. There was a rap at the window. ‘Are you coming?’

  ‘God . . . you gave me a fright!’

  ‘What do you think we are going to be faced with?’

  ‘I really don’t know Orla. I just hope Tom has been able to hide our collusion. We needed to speak with him; I hate going into something blind. By the way, how was your weekend?’

  ‘It was great; lovely to see everyone, but nothing really changes . . . I suppose that’s part of the charm. Well we’re here!’ Orla stopped short of Janet Warley’s door; she stood to one side. ‘After you.’

  The PA smiled as they approached. ‘Chief Inspector Cornish is expecting you.’ She led them to the open office door. ‘DI Black and DC Graham Sir.’

  Brian Cornish rose from his seat, ‘Come in.’ His greeting fell just short of a smile. ‘I’ve been bringing myself up to speed on the multiple homicide case you’ve been working on. A lot of commendable work you’ve put in there. You are probably wondering why I’m here and Chief Constable Warley isn’t. Well she has been moved over to Winson Green; it appears that a position came up and she opted for it.’ Matt shifted his gaze in Orla’s direction. She picked up the nuance. ‘So . . . back to you.’

  CI Cornish began sifting through some papers, eventually pulling one out. ‘Here we are. It would appear that you have suspicions concerning DI Crystal; that he was somehow involved with the death of the third victim. Seems to be quite a reckless claim . . . especially as you are viewing this Ana Banovic, as a possible suspect.’

  Matt began to collect himself. ‘There are some details about this case that we have had to conceal because of Chief Constable Warley’s close relationship with DI Crystal.’

  ‘Yes I am aware of those breaches of trust but before you go on, I have had a call from Superintendent Dundas from Oxford this morning. He has had a call from Dyfed Powys Police concerning this Kevin Crystal. It appears that he passed through a small town in Pembroke and a couple of incidents have been uncovered that might give your case against him some credence. They have found the body of a man that went missing and they’ve also found some CCTV coverage at a guest house that needs your scrutiny.’

  Matt went to speak; Cornish held up his hand. ‘I don’t know how they know of your involvement in this case but the local inspector has asked specifically for you and Detective Graham to visit the site and help them with the evidence. Superintendent Dundas has told me to accede to this request. We must always try to help other divisions where we can . . . So you can fill me in when you get back. You will have to make your own arrangements to get there, but here are all the details, names, addresses, postal codes and phone numbers. Good Luck!’

  Once outside, the two detectives stood and looked at each other; they struggled for words. Orla broke the silence. ‘What about that!’

  ‘I’m still trying to take it all in. Tom has pulled some strings all right. I can’t believe the progress they’ve made; I mean we only left there a couple of days ago.’

  ‘Well Bryn has certainly pulled his finger out. I wasn’t sure he was up to it but how wrong can you be.’ Matt had a new respect for his Welsh colleague . . . misplaced,

  but for now, a new respect. ‘And what about Janet Warley? She didn’t make that move out of choice, that’s for sure.’

  They walked back to the car park; Orla groaned as they neared the cars. ‘Oh God, we’ve got that drive to do all over again!’

  Matt hesitated. ‘Not if I can help it!’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘I’ll pick you up at home in an hour, but we will be travelling light. I don’t intend to stay over.’

  The hour came up and Orla was already pacing the floor. Two hoots had her at the window. At last! The dash down three flights of stairs had her arrive at the car somewhat breathless. She held up a small bag. ‘See! I can do light.’ Matt smiled, but said nothing. ‘I’m feeling quite excited,’ she gasped . . . but you do know we’re going in the wrong direction.’

  Matt had a smug look about him. ‘We’re going to Coventry. . . Baginton actually.’

  ‘What . . . the airport?’

  ‘Yes, I thought it was a good time to call up a favour. A while back, I caught some thieves on the airport warehouse section and struck up a friendship with the owner.’

  Orla finished the sentence. ‘And he happens to own a plane!’

  ‘He does indeed . . . and he should be waiting for us when we get there.’

  ‘What sort is it?’

  ‘No idea . . . but as long as it flies . . . You’re not scared are you?’

  ‘No Matt, you can breathe easy, I’m not scared.’

  The airport apron was littered with light aircraft and they slowly picked their way towards their targeted hanger. ‘There he is!’ Matt pointed ahead. A neat blue and white low winged plane stood before them. The pilot was busying himself removing the pitot tube cover.

  Having parked up, they approached from the rear of the plane. ‘Max!’. . .

  A ruddy faced man turned around. On seeing Matt, he yelled out, ‘Ready if you are!’

  ‘Thanks a lot Max . . . you’ve saved us one hell of a drive.’

  ‘Only a pleasure.’ They shook hands. Max’s eyes were focused on Orla. ‘And this is?’

  ‘Orla . . . Or to give her her full title, Detective Constable Graham.’

  He reached out a paw. ‘Honoured.’

  ‘Hello Max . . . Nice to meet you. This is a Beech Bonanza isn’t it?’

  ‘Yes . . . the tail is a bit of a giveaway. I’ve had it a couple of years now . . . luv it! Hey, Matt, Do you know where we are going yet?’

  ‘No I’m still waiting for a text with some GPS co-ordinates; a farm strip I think.’ He looked at his phone willing it to ring. ‘Hold on, I’ve got a message; didn’t hear it come in. Here we go, it’s from Bryn. He’s given us the position of a field on the edge of town. One grass strip running East to West, 1000 yards long and a bit bumpy. One windsock. That’s it!’

  ‘That’s plenty! I’ll have you there inside the hour. Orla will you climb in the back; the briefcase can go with you, there’s lots of room . . . here let me.’ Max reached over to help her in.

  The chocks were removed; they were ready to go. The engine whined as it churned over before bursting into life. The airframe shuddered with vibration as the revs climbed before settling back to a leisurely pace. The GPS co-ordinates were punched into the direction finde
r and they eased from their park onto the airport taxiway. Max was busy; absorbed with cockpit checks, switches and trim controls. The tower’s time and attention was being spent with other traffic as they advanced along the perimeter. At last . . . they were ready.

  ‘Request permission to proceed to holding zone.’ QNH figures were dialled into the altimeter. Wind speed and direction were all taken on board. They were third in line behind a King Air.

  ‘Didn’t they call this model, the V Tailed Doctor Killer?’ Orla’s voice had them turn their heads.

  ‘Yea; it was a time in The States, when young professionals had plenty of money but no savvy. They had lots of deaths; tried to blame the plane, but mostly it was pilot error. This is same plane that Buddy Holly died in at Clearwater in 59.’

  Orla smiled to herself. ‘They’ve made a lovely job of the restoration.’

  ‘Haven’t they just.’ Max laughed aloud.

  Orla had been involved with light aircraft since she was a teenager. She had spent hours with her brother during his early years as a private pilot frequently flying over Lough Erne and across Donegal, skimming the water just for the hell of it; this ride was a jaunt.

  The King Air had departed and they moved forward, stopping just short of the runway. Pulses were climbing as they waited for the clearance call.

  The radio crackled into life . . . ‘Charlie Whiskey Uniform, you are cleared for take off. Climb to two thousand feet before changing your course heading.’

  Max eased forward, turning into wind as he moved onto the runway. He pushed the throttle wide open; 285 horses leaped into action and the plane accelerated rapidly down the mile of tarmac that lay before them. The nose came up and the drumming from the wheels stopped immediately; they were airborne. Orla watched and checked on every action. Wheels up, flaps up, throttle eased as they neared their required height. They were on course for Llantywyn, cruising at 180 mph.

  Orla was relaxed . . . elated; This is better than driving . . . a lot better! Cloud cover was at four eighths but as they travelled further West, it began to improve.

  ‘Nice day down there!’ Max was chatty and at ease. The coast came into view.

  ‘Our field should be over there!’ He pointed just left of centre. ‘Keep a look out for the windsock Matt . . . it’s the only landmark we have. I’ll fly right over the location so we can see what we are in for; sheep can be a problem out here.’

  ‘There it is!’ Matt pointed down and they were past it in a second. Bryn Williams had been looking out for them and waved as they passed overhead. ‘At the very least, we’ve got a lift into town!’

  Max was too busy to chat. ‘Looks fine down there. . . wind is onshore. . . surface looks reasonable but it hasn’t seen a lot of use. OK I’m going round and coming straight in.’ Easing up on the downwind leg, he notched up the flaps. ‘Thirty degrees will be plenty; undercarriage down . . . Check!’ He opted for a steep descent, flaring out as they approached the ground. The first touch sent them back into the air but the landing was uneventful and they taxied to a halt, all smiles and chit chat as they emerged from the cockpit.

  A smiling Bryn walked over to greet them. ‘That didn’t take you long! Are you ready to go?’

  ‘I’ve got to tie the plane down. I see they have concreted some rings into the ground. That’s great! You can drop me in town; you don’t need to worry about me. I’ll find a pub and have a few.’ Max waited for comment.

  Orla jumped at the bait. ‘You’re going to do what?’

  ‘Only joking. . . Only joking.’

  ‘How long do you think we will be Bryn?’ Matt knew they were on a tight schedule. They needed to be back before nightfall.

  ‘I suppose three hours should do it; but it depends if you need to dig deeper into what we have found.’

  With Max gone, the talk moved quickly into what had transpired in the days since they had left. ‘Have forensics come up with anything yet on the body?’

  ‘They hadn’t this morning Matt, but they promised something by tonight.’

  ‘We need to see those CCTV shots. They should hold some answers. . . they have to; they might be the key to us solving this mess.’

  Chapter 55

  Before they had rolled to a halt, Andrew had appeared at the door. ‘Thanks for coming back detective.’ He shook hands with Matt. ‘And you too detective.’ Orla smiled graciously. ‘Come and meet my friends from South Africa. They arrived the day after you left, and if it hadn’t been for them, we wouldn’t have achieved anything.’ Piet, Kobus and Danie had all been lurking in the shadows but Andrew waved at them to come forward and introduced them in turn.

  Andrew described in detail all that had happened. How the body had been found and how the CCTV had been discovered. Bryn was quick to include his own involvement. He had organised the helicopter and the body of Sturgess and the dog had been whisked away by the coroner the following day.

  Matt turned to address them. ‘Without your input, we would still be nowhere near to understanding what has gone on here.’ A few nods and shrugs from the proud group, were a quiet acceptance that their efforts had been appreciated.

  ‘We need to see the CCTV footage.’

  ‘Follow me!’ Andrew walked briskly through the hallway into the back stockroom. ‘Here we are!’ They had set the recorder back to the day that Ruth Vaughan had last been seen.

  ‘This is Mr. Carter talking to my Mom.’ Andrew struggled to hold his composure.

  ‘Look Orla, that’s Mr. Carter.’ Matt moved aside to give her a better view.

  ‘Kevin Crystal . . . What a surprise!’

  Andrew drew back. ‘Is this the man you have been looking for?’

  ‘Yes Andrew, that’s him . . .Let’s see what happens next?’ They watched as Kevin left the foyer with his case.

  The next recording was indexed. Orla couldn’t hide her excitement. ‘It’s Kevin coming back inside; see the look on his face.’ He walked straight through the hallway past the stairs and disappeared out of shot.

  Andrew frowned. ‘He would only have had access to this room or my Mom’s living room . . . and he wouldn’t have come here; there’s nothing for him.’ The screen went blank.

  ‘Quick . . . the next shot.’ Matt was impatient. ‘Here he is coming back . . . it’s been six minutes! He is putting some money into his wallet. He must have taken back the money that he just paid her . . . Is that a smile?’

  ‘That dirty rotten bastard . . . he’s just murdered my Mom!’ Andrew was in despair. ‘He had ample time to set up his crime scene. He needs to hang for that!’

  ‘I’m sure we would all agree with you.’ Orla was trying to placate him.

  Matt’s thoughts were racing. ‘Can we wind back to when they first arrived? I want to see if he had opportunity to confront Sturgess on that cliff path.’

  They sat quietly at the comings and goings of all that passed through the target zone. Nothing seemed out of place. Matt watched Catherine with intensity; he hadn’t seen her for months and thought she looked too gaunt, even for her slender build.

  Occasionally she flashed a smile, but never at Kevin. What are you doing there Catherine?

  ‘Here . . . Look . . . That’s Crystal. What’s he up to?’ Kevin had appeared, dressed in Anorak and walking boots. He crossed the hallway and stopped as he reached the outside door where the selection of walking sticks had caught his eye; he pulled out a distinct hardwood piece.

  ‘That’s my Dad’s knobkerrie!’ Andrew strained for a better view. They all looked on in silence as Kevin took hold of the stick, holding it at the tapered end and swinging it like a club. Satisfied with the feel, he hurriedly left the building.

  ‘What time is showing on the screen?’

  ‘It’s almost a quarter past seven detective.’

  Orla whispered in Matt’s ear. ‘What do you think of that?’

  ‘Let’s wait and see what happens.’

  Andrew indexed the next track. ‘Look, it’s my Mom!’ Ruth Va
ughan walked over to the window. She stood for about five minutes, looking out in the general direction that Kevin had taken, eventually turning on her heel and returning to her living room.

  ‘She watched him go!’ Orla blurted out what they had just witnessed.

  ‘Yes, she saw where he went.’ Matt sensed they were watching a crime develop.

  The next track was selected. Kevin stumbled through the door; he replaced the knobkerrie back in the rack.

  ‘What time is it now?’

  ‘It’s five past eight!’

  ‘He’s been out there almost an hour . . . plenty long enough to confront Sturgess on the cliff path.’ Orla had stated the obvious.

  Matt’s mood was pensive. ‘I’m sure now that he was responsible for Sturgess’s death. Everything we have seen only reinforces that belief. But it is still only circumstantial! We have somehow got to put Crystal on that path with Sturgess and his dog.’

  ‘But Matt, without a witness, how are we going to achieve that?’ Orla looked at him, her frustration showing.

  ‘That walking stick! . . . maybe that can tell us something.’ Matt rushed past Bryn Williams, who almost fell over attempting to get out of his way.

  ‘Steady on boyo!’ They all trooped out in pursuit as he rushed to the umbrella stand.

  Matt scrutinised the polished hardwood piece. ‘Orla . . . Look!’ He thrust the stick towards her, pointing at marks that were clearly evident. ‘If those aren’t teeth marks then I’ll eat my hat. And look, they are new. . . He felt the indentations with his finger. The edges are still sharp! He must have poked at the dog and it has grabbed the stick. Do you know what . . . if we can match these bite marks with the dog’s teeth, it puts Kevin Crystal on that path in the company of Sturgess. We’ve got him! But we’ve got to match up the teeth marks.

  Bryn, we need to speak with the forensic people that have the bodies. Can you call them . . . see what they’ve come up with?’

  ‘Onto it already.’ Bryn disappeared to a quiet corner. Five minutes later he was back shaking his head as he approached. ‘Sturgess died from lack of blood. His body was too badly mutilated by the dog to obtain any proof of head trauma, so nothing there. The fingernails on his left hand were all broken; tried to stop himself going over the edge I guess.’