Shadow of the Beast

by Michael Fowler

  Hunter’s head shot up. Alan Darbyshire! Nine months ago his name had been linked to a cold-case murder they had been investigating. They had uncovered irregularities in the interview of a convicted killer conducted by him in the early nineteen-eighties, and as a result, they had arrested him and charged him with perjury. Six months ago he had been convicted at crown court and was now serving an eighteen-month prison sentence. Well it’s a small world! The sound of Gordon clearing his throat brought Hunter’s thoughts back.

  ‘Braithwaite was taken out of the frame much to my disgust and for months, I have to say, I went on a bit of a crusade to get him. I used to lie in wait for him going to work and pull him up in his van. I did my best to rile him every time I stopped him, just so I could nick him, but he wouldn’t play.’ A smile lit up his face. ‘Good job they hadn’t got CCTV around then eh. I’d more than likely have been sacked.’

  ‘And so that’s when he went on to rape again?’ said Hunter.

  Gordon nodded. ‘It was almost a year later – autumn, nineteen-seventy-two. Raped an eighteen-year-old. Bit her breast just like the last woman. Braithwaite was immediately listed as a suspect but before they could bring him in for questioning he killed Glynis Young and that’s when his luck ran out.’

  ‘How did that come about then?’ enquired Grace.

  Gordon fixed her with his watery blue eyes. ‘It was actually down to a member of the public, certainly not CID. It was a real nasty job. Halloween again. Glynis had had a row with her boyfriend at the youth club and was making her way home on foot. She lived in Mexborough and had to go over the canal bridge on Chapel Lane to get there. It was a case of her being in the wrong place…’ He shook his head, fixing Hunter and Grace with a vacant stare and then continued. ‘We believe Terrence Braithwaite came across her whilst driving home after his shift at the pit. It was a rotten night and we think that he most probably offered her a lift. The sighting we had of them was just before ten o’clock in the car park at Barnwell Lake. One of the night fishermen was just packing up and was heading back to his car when he heard Glynis scream. The back doors of Terry’s van were open and he saw her fighting with Braithwaite. The fisherman went to her aid, and there was a bit of a struggle between them, but Terry got top side and gave him a couple of thumps and knocked him to the ground and managed to drive away with Glynis in the back. The man ran after them and banged on the roof as Terry drove out of the car park and, fortunately for us, he also got part of his reg number. It didn’t take us long to trace the van and we went straight round to his house. We found him cleaning his van, and you won’t believe this, but it show’s you just what kind of man Braithwaite was, he’d also changed the wheels of his van, so the tyre treads wouldn’t match those at the scene. He was arrested and his house searched but there was no sign of Glynis. But we did find this weird stuff in the cellar.’

  ‘Weird stuff?’ enquired Hunter, his eyebrows knitting together.

  ‘Gordon nodded. ‘Occult, Devil-worshipping stuff!’ The cellar door was padlocked, so the first thing we thought was that Glynis Young was down there so we busted the door down. She wasn’t but what we did find I’ve only seen the likes of in horror films before. The walls were covered in occult symbols – upside down crosses, pentagrams – that kind of stuff, as well as Devil drawings and paintings. He’d also painted severed women’s heads dripping with blood. We thought at first it was real blood but forensics said it was animal blood.’ He looked from Hunter to Grace. ‘See what I mean when I said weird?’ He shook his head. ‘Anyway Braithwaite was locked up and interviewed for hours but refused to talk. The next morning Glynis’s body was found in the woods just off Chapel Meadow. She’d been stabbed and strangled. Braithwaite denied everything. In the hour it had taken for us to trace his van and get around to his house, as well as changing the wheels, he’d also bleached the inside of the van, sandpapered and bleached the bottom of his shoes and his clothes were being washed in the machine. The thing that sealed his fate was that he’d not thought to clean the top of his van and the fisherman who’d tackled him’s handprint was found on the roof. The jury found him guilty of the murder of Glynis Young and also the rape of the woman who had recognised him. The jury couldn’t deliver a majority verdict for the other rapes and so they were left on file. The judge gave him life. That was in nineteen-seventy-three.’ Gordon’s mouth tightened. ‘It was a good job he was caught when he was because I, and many others like me, were convinced he would’ve gone on to kill again. Terry Braithwaite was an evil nasty piece of work and showed just what he was like during the judge’s summing up. While he’d been on remand he’d had this tattoo done on his chest by his cell-mate. He’d had THE BEAST done in capital letters and a face of the devil, and he ripped open his shirt while he was in the dock and started snarling like a demented dog.’ He shook his head again. ‘I was in court that day and I couldn’t believe it. I’ve never seen anything like it. Me and several others had to drag him out. It took four of us to restrain him. He’d totally gone.’ He shook his head again as his voice trailed off.

  Hunter rocked his neck, studying Gordon for a moment and mulling over what he had just told them. He said, ‘God, what a fascinating story Gordon, and as you say Braithwaite was no doubt a very dangerous man, but what you’ve just said is that this all happened in the early seventies. He was behind bars from nineteen-seventy-two until a couple of years ago. The girl we’ve found beneath the floor of the old chapel was killed and buried there early to mid-nineteen-eighties, so that puts Terrence Braithwaite out of the running. HM prison service is his alibi. You can’t get better than that’

  The retired PC shook his head, ‘Oh, but it doesn’t. In fact, the nineteen-eighties puts him right in it.’

  Taking on a puzzled expression Hunter said, ‘I’m not with you Gordon. Braithwaite would have been in jail. You said he got life.’

  ‘He did get sentenced to life, but he wasn’t actually in prison for long. He was transferred to a secure hospital for assessment. In his case I think he went to Rampton, which is where he was released from. The thing I haven’t told you is that in the early eighties his wife died and he was allowed out for her funeral. I can remember it because a telex came from headquarters about the arrangements. We thought the prison service had everything sorted so we didn’t do anything different – you know put extra officers out on patrol. Just after the burial he told the guards he needed to go to the toilet and they allowed him to go to the vestry, which they thought was secure. But he found a key to the outside door and did a runner. There was mayhem. We were chasing around all over the place to try and find him but he’d disappeared. If my memory serves me right, he was on the run for five days before they finally re-captured him. He was found in the grounds at Whitby Abbey. The papers had a field day with that – the place where Dracula had landed in the book – and the link to his nickname. You can just imagine it can’t you?’ Smiling he added, ‘He was interviewed, but he never told where he’d been all that time.’

  * * *

  DI Gerald Scaife again took briefing. He reported that they still hadn’t managed to identify their victim – the HOLMES team were still trawling through the National Missing Persons Index to see if any of the names cross-matched with females reported missing during the 1980s. He said they were especially prioritising those from West Yorkshire, given Hunter and Grace’s feedback from their interview with Gordon Jennings, adding that there were more records to check on the system than they had anticipated.

  Then he handed over to Hunter, who, using the notes he had scribed as prompts, slowly went back over what Gordon Jennings had told him and Grace that afternoon. Pausing after ten minutes, licking dry lips and moistening them, he roamed his eyes around the room. He could see from the reaction in his colleague’s faces that he had grabbed their attention. Then, pushing aside his annotations he added, ‘I also talked to him about the fire at the chapel. He could remember it, although not the date, except to confirm that it was early eightie
s sometime, and that it was the start of summer – around May – June time. He told us that the chapel had stopped being used in the early seventies and had been boarded up, supposedly to stop thieves getting in, but it had been the target of constant vandalism and he’d cleared away lots of kids over the years who’d got in to play. He can also remember that a local tramp, who’s now dead, used to doss in there from time to time. He said that there had been a couple of fires lit in there, but they were only small ones which had hardly caused any damage –kids making campfires, that kind of thing. However, there was one big fire that caused considerable damage. Apparently he was on duty that evening and was called to it following the attendance of the fire brigade. He said that whoever had started this fire had intended burning the place down. They’d piled rubbish and old prayer books on top of the altar and dragged together pews and started it. It caused a significant amount of damage inside, mainly to the floor and the pews, there was lots of smoke damage and, following that, the council did a proper job of securing it for safety reasons. He was given the names of a number of teenager’s who’d been using the place as a den, and he did interview them, but all of them denied having anything to do with it and he had no evidence so the job was written off as undetected. He’s kept all his pocket books and he’s going to go through them and give us the date of the fire and the names of the teenagers he interviewed at the time.’ He pushed himself back in his chair and skirted the room again. ‘Another thing I also got from him was an immediate reaction when I asked him if anyone had ever reported a cow being killed and its head severed. He wanted to know why I was asking that, but I told him I couldn’t tell him at the moment, and he told me that a local farmer had rung in the morning after the fire at the chapel. He remembered it because of the fire. He was making enquiries at the houses nearby and he was diverted away from them to take the report. The cow had been killed and beheaded and left in the field across from Chapel Lane. He said he’d never come across anything like it. He’s going to go through his pocket books today to get us the date.’

  DI Scaife checked that Hunter had finished and said, ‘Okay, good work there. As soon as Gordon Jennings rings in with those dates and the names of the children he interviewed for the fire I’ll prioritise it as a line of enquiry. Regarding Terrence Braithwaite, I want this picking up first thing tomorrow morning. Following everything we’ve just been told about him; I want to dig into every aspect of his life. District Admin have confirmed that the full case files relating to the Braithwaite investigation are still in the basement and those will be here first thing in the morning.’ He looked at Hunter. ‘I want you to go through the files and summarise them for us.’ Taking back his gaze he scoured the room. ‘I will also be allocating an enquiry to contact the probation service to get copies of what they hold about him on file, and I will also be tasking someone with liaising with the prison service to see what they have on record about him. I’m especially interested if he disclosed anything to hospital staff, or if he was involved in any treatment regime. What’s really important is getting those dates that he was on the run and see if there is a link with the chapel fire. Once we get the dates we can also check and see if any females on the Missing Person’s Index fit into the five-day time-frame.’ He paused before finishing with, ‘This just may be what we’ve been looking for everyone.’

  * * *

  Except for Hunter, no one hung around after evening briefing. He had stayed to formally document the notes he made of that afternoon’s interview with Gordon Jennings and then he intended visiting the hospital to see how his former boss was before heading home. He had thought about him on and off throughout the day, and although not religious had found himself on more than a few occasions saying a silent prayer for his speedy recovery. Closing down his computer, he picked up his mug and finished the last dregs of his now cold tea, staring across the room at the incident board. Next to the first crime scene photograph depicting the skull of their victim was a blown up section of an Ordnance Survey map of the Chapel estate. It had two Post-it notes indicating where their victim had been discovered, and where their suspect – Terrence Arthur Braithwaite – lived prior to his arrest. It was all they had at the moment despite all their enquiries.

  Hunter mentally rewound the day’s interview, picking out the key elements as he scrutinised the map. The distance between the two locations was less than thirty yards. Surely, this wasn’t just a coincidence?

  * * *

  In the Intensive Care Unit at Barnwell General Hospital a nurse told Hunter which bed Michael Robshaw was in. He made his way to the open door but stopped before he entered, taking a deep breath as he explored the ward. He immediately spotted Dawn slumped in a high-back chair next to his former boss’s bed. Head askew, resting on one shoulder, she appeared to be asleep. His gaze drifted to the bed where Michael Robshaw lay unconscious. He could hear the heart monitor next to him beeping away steadily. That was a good sign, wasn’t it? Edging closer and taking in his appearance he couldn’t believe this was the same man he had spent so much time with over the years. It wasn’t the tube keeping him breathing, or the wires and cables monitoring his vital signs that shocked him, but the state of his face. The image reminded him of a swollen bruised beetroot. Hunter had dealt with many bad assaults over the years, and many murders, but never had he seen someone whose face had taken such a battering. He swallowed hard.

  DS Leggate jolted awake. For a moment she looked startled

  ‘Sorry gaffer,’ he said, ‘I just wanted to pop in and see how he is.’

  Dawn pushed herself up the chair and tried to blink sleep from her eyes. ‘Sorry Hunter, I’d gone there. What time is it?’

  Hunter glanced at his watch, ‘Ten past eight.’

  ‘Gosh I’ve been asleep for almost an hour. That’s the first time I’ve managed to get some shut-eye since I got here late last night.’ Then, knuckle-rubbing her right eye and looking at Michael, she said, ‘There’s been no change in him since he was admitted.’

  ‘Has he not come round?’

  She shook her head. Stray strands of hair came away from her loose ponytail. ‘They’re keeping him sedated because of his head injury. The surgeon who operated on him said it was to release the pressure. They’re going to keep him like that until they think he’s ready or until he show’s signs of improvement.’ On a brittle note she ended, ‘They’ve said that the next twenty-four hours are critical.’

  Hunter stood by the end of the bed. He could see that Dawn looked shattered. Her face had none of its usual lustre – dark circles haunted her bloodshot hazel eyes and her face looked pale and drawn.

  ‘What have they said? How badly is he injured?’

  For a brief moment her eyes glassed over. She blinked and answered, ‘They’re mostly worried about the swelling to his brain caused by his skull fracture. Other than that he’s got a fractured pelvis, right femur and a broken right arm.’

  ‘Good God, it must have hit him with a hell of a whack. Was the car speeding? We’ve been told it’s a hit and run?’

  Dawn pursed her mouth, ‘Traffic are telling me they now believe it was deliberate.’

  ‘Deliberate?’

  ‘They’ve got a witness who heard it and saw some of it. She lives in one of the cottages up from curry house. She’d just got out of the bath and heard the bang. She looked out of her window and saw the car reversing over him before driving off.’

  ‘Reversing over him! Is she sure?’

  ‘I spoke with the Traffic Sergeant and she tells me that the witness is confident about what she saw, and they’ve disclosed it to the surgeon, and he says the site and severity of the injuries would be consistent with that.’

  ‘Christ! Deliberate?’ Hunter locked eyes with Dawn for a moment, then he said, ‘Any ideas who? Did the witness get a number?’

  Dawn shook her head. ‘She was so shocked that by the time she realised what was happening the car had driven away.’

  ‘Any cameras around?’ />
  She released a weak smile, ‘Thinking like a detective. Can’t help it can you? I’ve already asked the same questions.’ Straightening her face, she said, ‘There are none in the immediate vicinity, so they’re looking at the roads around the location to see if they can pick anything up. To be honest Hunter they haven’t got a lot to go on. The witness has no idea about the make of the car, other than it was a saloon, and because it was dark she can only say she thought the car was grey or silver.’