Grave Decisions

by Claire Highton-Stevenson

  “Shocking,” Whitton agreed, desperately trying to keep her excitement under the radar. “Anyway, I’ve taken up too much of your time already. I just wanted you to know that we probably won’t be going any further with Benson for now, but we all know the man’s guilty, right? It’s only a matter of time before we get him.”

  “Right, well thanks for the heads up. I’m sure he will be relieved.”

  Chapter Forty-One

  As Whitton drove back towards the station, the sun came out from behind the clouds. She reached into her pocket and pulled out her sunglasses, slipping them on over her eyes. Coming to a halt at the lights, she called Saint using the hands-free.

  It didn’t ring for long before his south London accent boomed into her ears.

  “Get on the computer and search through every case Jonas defended that involved a vicar,” she ordered.

  “Hello to you too,” he said sarcastically. “I suppose you have no time frame at all?”

  “Nope, just that he mentioned this case in particular. Find it; I want the details ASAP. Something about it could be the trigger.”

  “Okay, then I will start around ’93 then, seeing as that’s the first one that we know about.”

  “Great, I am heading back in now.”

  “Okay, get us a decent coffee, will ya?”

  She disconnected the call and swung the car into the left-hand lane. Something about it all still bothered her, but she couldn’t quite put her finger on it. Before she could contemplate it any further, the phone buzzed in its cradle. Whitton smiled as she noted the name and face that flashed up on the screen.

  “Hey,” she said, smiling still as the cars in front slowed.

  “Hello you, I was just wondering if you fancied doing something later?” Rachel’s voice was a welcome interruption to the day’s events so far.

  “Yes, I mean in principle I think that would be nice, unless…”

  “Yes, unless Woodington’s criminal element need you more than I do.” Rachel chuckled to herself, and Whitton thought that it might be the best sound she had heard all day. “Oh, and please do not forget that we have your mother coming over at the weekend, and as much as I like her, I really don’t want to spend the day without you there to help keep her entertained.

  This time it was Whitton who laughed. “She’s not that bad.”

  “No, she isn’t, but she isn’t you, and funnily enough, I like spending my days off with you.” The traffic lights changed, and Whitton slipped the car into gear, ready to move off again.

  “I will do my best to be there while you entertain my mother. You know she likes you more than me,” Whitton stated, only half joking.

  “Well, that’s probably because I don’t bugger off halfway through dinner to deal with a murder scene that Dale or Jeff are quite capable of dealing with.”

  “Ouch, you wound me!” Whitton laughed once more before becoming serious. “But I take your point onboard. I will make sure that someone else is on call Saturday.” She smiled. “So long as we don’t have a situation with…”

  “Hmm, let’s hope you wrap that up sooner rather than later,” Rachel said before adding, “Comedy or action?”

  “Huh?”

  “Cinema, tonight, I am booking tickets for the late showing.”

  “Ah, okay, well whatever you want to watch is fine by me.”

  With the call ended, something clicked into place within Whitton’s mind. She swung the car around the corner and pulled into the parking space outside of the coffee shop. She grabbed coffees and pastries and then headed back to the station to check out her theory.

  ~Grave~

  Dale had his hand out the moment he spotted her entering the room.

  “Oh, how I need you,” he said to the red paper cup that she held out to him. He took it, flicking the top off, and took a gulp of the now-drinkable coffee. “God, that’s like nectar.”

  “Glad to be of service. What did you find?”

  Dale sat back in his seat and grimaced. “Bugger all, really.” He picked up his pad and read out the details. “Vicar got away with it, that’s all true. But he is still alive and well up in Northampton. The court case took place in 1992. So, before the first grave murder – that we know of.”

  “Damn, I was hoping that would be the connection.” She perched on the edge of his desk and took a sip of her own drink. “I had another thought, but…”

  Intrigued, he sat forward. “Go on.”

  “Well it was just, he was raised by an aunt, not his mother, right?”

  “The mother’s sister took him in cos the father was at sea.”

  “Where are either of them?”

  He swiveled his chair around to face the desk and started typing. “Okay, here we go. Petty Officer James Robinson.” His eyes scanned the page further. “Shit.”

  “What?” She stood and leaned in over his shoulder.

  “Name: PO J ROBINSON

  Date of Death: 3rd February 1993

  Cause of Death: Accidental Drowning.

  Factors: On the night of 3rd Feb, PO Robinson and CPO Hansen were both intoxicated. They got into a fight and PO Robinson fell overboard. The alarm was raised and a search of the harbour took place, however, PO Robinson’s body was not found until the following day.

  It was recommended that CPO Hansen be demoted to PO for his part in the altercation. No further action was taken.”

  “Where is this Hansen?”

  Dale’s fingers moved swiftly over the keys as he typed in the information. When it appeared on the screen, he sat back and ran his hands over his face. “Dead, accidental drowning.”

  “Accidental?”

  “Just what I was thinking.” He sighed. “This could have been his trigger. If he took revenge, meted out his own form of justice…”

  “The graves aspect could have come later.”

  Chapter Forty-Two

  At eight a.m. there was barely a sign of life within Mutare. Jonas Robinson had been there on many an occasion, but never this early before. He’d found a certain calmness that came from his visits. The meditations and the easygoing way that Jewel and Galahad managed the different people and issues was, in his opinion, nothing short of magnificent. It was a shame really that it had to come to an end, but he knew that this was a gilt-edged opportunity that he couldn’t let pass.

  He pulled his car into the space right outside of the property and sat in his seat for a moment, composing himself. This would be different. Before he had always had right on his side, a sense of justice pushing him forward to complete the necessary actions in order to realign the universal righteousness.

  Not once had he ever delivered a blow that wasn’t justified and righteous. This would be a little different, but the end justified the means. They were too close. Whitton wasn’t an idiot, and she wouldn’t let this go, not unless the case was closed. He could close the case for her.

  Climbing from the car, he stretched his spine as he hit the lock button. The garden was in need of some attention, he noted as he strolled up the path and banged gently on the door. It didn’t take long to hear the sounds of life inside.

  When Jewel opened the door, he smiled pleasantly at her.

  “Jonas, what a surprise, come in.” She smiled and stepped aside for him. The remnants of incense burned hours ago still wafted through the house. He liked the smell.

  “I was just wondering if Galahad was around. I have a few loose ends to tie up with him,” he said, following her into the kitchen.

  She lifted the kettle. “Tea?”

  “Oh, no thanks. I just wanted a quick word, really.”

  She filled the kettle and put it back on the base that would boil the water. “I’m afraid I just don’t know what to do. He’s…” She ran her hand through her hair and sighed. “I think our marriage is falling apart and he’s…I think he has someone else.”

  “Ah, that’s…” He remembered his client’s admission and considered whether he should divulge anything to this
poor woman, but that wouldn’t help his own cause. “Is he here?”

  She shook her head, tears forming. “No, I think he is with her. I followed him yesterday. I know I shouldn’t have, but…”

  “Where did he go?”

  Pulling a piece of paper out from under the bread bin, she slid it across to him and let him read the address. It was not too far away, just on outskirts of Woodington.

  “What do you think I should do?”

  “I…well, I think that you should probably confront him. It isn’t going to be easy, but honesty is surely the best policy. Isn’t that what we learn at Mutare?”

  She smiled and pulled the paper away, pushing it back under the bread bin. “You’re right.”

  Reaching out a hand, he ran it sympathetically down her arm before turning towards the door. “Okay, well I will be off then. If you do see him, please ask him to call me.”

  She followed him out and waved when he turned back at the gate. The sun in her eyes, she squinted as he climbed into his car and felt for the phone in her pocket, only pulling it out once he had driven away and was out of sight.

  “Hello, yes…he knows.”

  Chapter Forty-Three

  He loosened his tie. Sitting inside the car without the engine running meant that it was stifling. The boiler suit only added to the heat. He considered letting the engine run for a while so that the air conditioning could cool everything down, but he didn’t wasn’t to draw any attention to himself. Instead, he wiped his face with a hankie and kept a close eye on the small cottage.

  The for-sale sign looked new. The grass was cut and the beds flowering, tall sunflowers enjoying the heat that poured upon them. They straightened and pushed their faces towards it.

  It was a quiet road, for which he was grateful, and so far, he had seen nobody pass him by. He pulled the cap down lower, just in case. He had seen only the woman; a tall blonde with ample bosom had come in laden with shopping bags an hour before. Galahad had opened the door and smiled, greeting her with a kiss and a furtive look up and down the road as she passed by him and into the cottage.

  That was the moment when Jonas finally justified in his own mind what it was he was about to do. Until now, he had seen Galahad as the innocent patsy, the man caught in the web who would be the key to Jonas’ own freedom. Now though, he saw him for what he was: a cheat. Jewel was nothing but a supportive and exceptional wife to him and a mentor to those who were victims in this world. She deserved better than this fool.

  Wiping his face for the umpteenth time, his attention was caught. There was movement at the door again. This time, the woman was leaving. She reached up and wrapped her hands around his neck, and they held each other as she whispered something to him. He smiled and pulled back to look at her before inching forward to kiss her lips quickly. She waved as she turned and walked back down the path, waving again at the gate before marching confidently off down the street, turning right at the corner. Galahad closed the door behind him, and Jonas stepped out of the car.

  Carrying his small bag, he looked like any plumber or handyman who might be working. He strolled up the path and knocked on the door, only glancing around once, finding the street empty. He smiled to himself. Luck was always on his side.

  The door swung open. “What did you forget?” Galahad laughed and then frowned as he took in the man standing before him. “Jonas?”

  “Galahad, can I come in?” He took one more furtive glance around. Still nobody on the street, but he would rather not hang around outside when he had so much to do.

  Stepping aside, Galahad said, “Of course,” his eyes narrowing a little as he tried to work out why his friend wasn’t wearing the customary suit. “How did you know where to find me?”

  Jonas smiled. “Oh you know how it is, us law enforcement types can usually find someone when we need to.” He lied with such ease that he almost believed it himself. “I am sorry to turn up unannounced, but it is important that I see you. Am I keeping you from anything?”

  Leading the way into the living room, Galahad shook his head. “No, June…she uh, she’s my friend, the one I told you about at the station. She’s just bought this place and…” He had the decency to blush at least, Jonas considered. The world of mistresses and deceit was a murky one after all, and didn’t it deserve a little embarrassment? “Anyway, she has gone into town for more cleaning products. Moving in officially tomorrow with all of her boxes of knickknacks.” His eyes followed Jonas as both men surveyed the nearly empty room. An old sofa and a table with four chairs were pretty much all that was there. “So, tea? I think there is a pint of milk now.”

  Smiling, Jonas nodded. “Why not?”

  The kitchen was just a small room off of the living room. Nowhere to go. Jonas watched as Galahad filled the kettle and flicked the switch to boil. Opening his bag, he pulled out the syringe and took the protective cap off as two cups chinked together when Galahad pulled them from the cupboard. “So, what was it that you wanted to tell me?”

  Thoughtfully, Jonas considered the question before deciding honesty was the best policy as always. He stepped up behind the big man. “I wanted to apologise,” he said as he plunged the needle into Galahad’s neck, pressing the plunger instantly. “Because, I have to kill you,” he continued, catching Galahad’s weight as he slumped. “Don’t worry, I’ll make yours as painless as I can.”

  Galahad clawed up at him with a meaty fist, but Jonas managed to dodge to the side, dropping him gently to the floor.

  “See, the thing is G, the police need an answer and right now, you’re their best bet. And I have far too much to do keeping the guilty off of the streets and the innocents out of jail. So, you see, it’s really just…” He grabbed Galahad under the arms and pulled him into the living area. Dragging him along the old carpet, he considered the fibers that would be collecting on the material. Any decent ME worth their salt would work out in an instant that he hadn’t got into the chair without help. Lifting a dead weight onto the sofa was hard work. Undressing him and leaving him in nothing but his underpants was even more difficult.

  Galahad’s eyes locked on him as he fought to focus. “Don’t worry, I’ve given you a good dose of ketamine. Not enough to kill you, just…well, I need you pliable, G. Got to make it look like it all became too much for you and well, what with the police about to arrest you any minute…who would blame you if you did take the easy way out, huh?”

  There was a grunt from the prone man, followed by a slurred, “Why?”

  “Are you asking why I play judge and executioner?” There was a small nod, and Jonas smiled sadly. “I suppose you do deserve an explanation.” He crossed the room again quickly and picked up his bag, bringing it over to where Galahad was now lying as though he were going to take a nap. “Well, I guess I was quite young when I first realised that justice didn’t mean the same to everyone. My mother died when I suppose I needed her most, and though my aunt did as best a job as she could, it wasn’t the same.” He pulled out another syringe and began to fill it with something clear from a small bottle. “And then, as though that wasn’t enough, my father was killed in an accident.” He flicked the syringe and pushed the air bubble out. “But really, I think it was the Grayson case that did it for me. I’d watched so many clients get off with technicalities and inept prosecution briefs that it was like a pressure cooker.”

  He noticed Galahad’s eyes begin to close. The ketamine working perfectly to knock the big man out long enough to finish the job. As he talked, however, he found it a little cathartic. This would be the end of it; in reality, he couldn’t continue after this. Pouring out his confession to the man who would take the blame felt only fair.

  “Grayson was a horrible little man. The kind of man that you took one look at and wanted so slap him because you already knew he was up to no good. Repeatedly, he would come before the courts, and every time there would be some reason why he wouldn’t be given a custodial sentence. And remember, these were only the crimes he had b
een caught for; there were many more where he hadn’t.”

  He perched himself on the edge of the sofa. “I know what you’re thinking,” he chuckled. “What grisly crime, who did he murder? It wasn’t that. He was a petty criminal really, but it all adds up, doesn’t it? Every little fraud, scam, theft. All of those people whose lives are affected because this horrible piece of shit could get away with it.” Gently he lifted Galahad’s right eyelid. “Hmm, Mabel Grimes saved all of her life to enjoy a small pension and live a modest, but comfortable last few years – funnily enough, in a cottage just like this…only he took it all away, in a driveway scam. Every last penny she had, he took it. He actually got sent down for it: six months, out in three. Mabel Grimes died two months after he was sentenced. Had a stroke, from the stress of it all I imagine.”

  He exhaled loudly and stood back up. “I was in a pub not that long after, and he was there with some of his cronies, and he had the audacity to thank Mabel as he handed over a £20 note to pay for his drinks. So I killed him, left him in the back alley by the bins, best place for him. But after that, I thought of poor Mabel and I wished I could have let her know that it was all okay now. That he had got what he deserved. That was when I came up with the idea to leave them with their victim. Just letting them know that justice had been served.” He wiped gently at the crease of the elbow of Galahad’s right arm. “Anyway, I’ll make this quick. And I’ll keep an eye on Jewel, make sure that she doesn’t find out about this…” He looked around the room. “…little arrangement…though, I can’t guarantee that the police won’t blab it.”

  A rush of noise came all at once: footsteps charging down the stairs, the front door crashing open, and voices screaming at him.

  “Police!”

  “Move away from the sofa.”

  “Back away now. On the floor.”

  It was all a cacophony of sound as Jonas tried to stand, the needle still in his hand. He looked up and saw the face of Whitton as she organised medical personnel to deal with Galahad. His patsy was coming around. It would be a while before he was completely compos mentis, but he would be okay.