When a killer strikes, p.5
When a Killer Strikes, page 5
‘Nah, are you?’
‘Do I care? As long as it’s well cooked. I’ve seen enough blood for one day.’
Chapter Three
When Dylan arrived home the house was in darkness and Jen was in bed, sound asleep. He looked at the clock; it was one-thirty am. Alarm set, he felt his way in the darkness to the en suite. He shouldn’t have gone in for coffee at Vicky’s, but she’d insisted, and she could hardly stand. He felt responsible. He snuck into bed and snuggled up to Jen. She felt lovely and warm to his touch and he dared to put his cold feet tentatively next to hers. Both mumbled an acknowledgment before he felt himself falling into the bottomless pit of sleep.
The beeping of his alarm under his pillow woke him. He could see Jen in the semi-darkness as he stumbled out of bed and opened his sock drawer as quietly as he could.
‘What time is it?’ said Jen, sleepily.
‘Five-thirty. I was trying not to wake you. Go back to sleep,’ he said in a hushed tone.
‘I’ve seen a house,’ she said, in a muffled tone as she attempted to prop herself up on one elbow and dropped back onto the pillow.
‘Can we afford it?’ Dylan said, his voice sounding more wide-awake than he felt.
‘Yes.’ Jen rubbed her eyes.
‘Arrange a viewing then, if you like the look of it.’ Dylan was concentrating on tying the knot of his tie.
‘Really? When for?’
‘Whenever.’ Dylan put his arms in the sleeves of his jacket and pulled the cuffs of his shirt down to reveal his cufflinks.
‘And you’ll be there?’ She looked at him through narrowed eyes as he came towards her.
‘Promise! See you later,’ he said, planting a fleeting kiss upon her forehead.
‘Whatever,’ she said in a whisper, but she afforded herself a smile and snuggled under the duvet. She heard the sound of his feet running down the steps. ‘Dylan,’ she called hurriedly, in a soft voice, as loud as she dared.
He stopped. ‘What?’
‘Don’t slam the door.’
‘I won’t,’ he replied.
The front door slammed, Jen held her breath. A few minutes later Maisy shouted. Jen pulled the duvet over her head. ‘Grrr… Dylan!’
As early as it was Harrowfield Police Station was wide awake and buzzing with people. The briefing for the Patti Heinz murder was due to take place in a specially adapted area, near the allotted incident room. Vicky brought Dylan coffee. ‘Thanks for last night,’ she said softly. A few heads turned. Dylan shook his head at her and smiled.
David Funk, the crime scene manager, stood beside Dylan and Vicky helping to outline the discovery of Patti’s body. Photographs, a video and street map were the aids they used. A brief family history of the victim was given to those assembled, and a picture of Patti and what they had gleaned so far in the investigation was shared. Priority lines of enquiry, yesterday’s post-mortem results, and a forensic update was given in detail.
‘The press conference is arranged for ten-thirty,’ said Connie. ‘Are you ready Mr Dylan?’
Connie accompanied Dylan and Vicky down the corridor to the news teams waiting for him.
‘I’d considered doing the conference with Patti’s parents but I’ve had a word with Jaene and they’re not up to it,’ he said.
‘It’s a big ask, so soon,’ said Connie. ‘We’ll use them at a later date, if necessary, to try and keep the investigation headline news.’
‘That’s if it makes the headline news. It’s not a certainty these days,’ said Vicky.
‘Sadly, it’s not,’ said Connie.
The television cameras were in place and the desk at the front of the room where they would sit was covered from back to front in microphones – tall ones, wide ones, small ones, big ones, some snake-like, meandering across the great expanse. Dylan walked into the room before the others.
Vicky held a cupped hand over her mouth when she whispered to Connie. ‘I don’t know how he does it. He doesn’t even look nervous. My knees are bloody shaking.’
‘Just don’t fart,’ said Connie with a raising of her eyebrow.
‘You mean those microphones are that good? Jesus Christ!’
‘He can’t help you,’ said Connie, her face emotionless. ‘Take a seat.’ Connie pulled out her own chair at the end of the line and indicated for Dylan and Vicky to do likewise.
As soon as Dylan sat the talking stopped. All eyes were upon him.
‘Good morning, ladies and gents. For those of you who don’t know me, I am Detective Inspector Jack Dylan from Harrowfield Police Station, the senior investigating officer for this enquiry. On my left is Detective Sergeant Vicky Hardacre and to her left Connie Seabourne, press officer.’ Pens scurried across blank pages, in the journalists’ notebooks. ‘As usual, I’ll give you all the details and there will be a chance for questions or one-to-one interviews at the end of this press conference. It was my intention this morning to bring the parents with us, but they are too distraught at this time. In future, however, I am sure they will want to say a few words. In the meantime, I ask that you respect their privacy. I am able to release to you this morning the personal details of the victim, as her family have been informed of yesterday’s tragic events. Thank you for your attendance.’
Dylan paused, briefly looked up, and saw the eagerness in the sea of faces. ‘Moving onto these events. Yesterday afternoon the emergency services, by that I mean ambulance and police, responded to a three-nines call to a house situated in Burford Avenue. This was made by the stepfather of the deceased, who had returned home at approximately two-fifteen pm, and discovered the lifeless and almost naked body of the fourteen-year-old victim, on the first-floor landing of their home. Patti Heinz was a well-known and accomplished local gymnast. She had been attacked inside her own home and we also believe that she had been subjected to a serious and violent sexual assault. A post-mortem was carried out by the Home Office pathologist, Mary Morris, late last night. The cause of death has been identified as strangulation. We have a major investigation underway to find Patti’s killer. That’s all I can tell you at this time.
‘Sandra Mangan, Daily Express: Are you saying she was raped?’
‘I said she was subjected to a violent sexual assault. We have to wait for test results to confirm what took place.’
‘Pamela McNaulty, Daily Mail: Do we have a photograph of the young girl?’
‘Yes, we do. Copies of it will be handed to you by the press officer.’
‘Virginia Mason, Editor, Harrowfield Courier: I interviewed Patti recently for a feature in the paper. She was in no doubt a very talented young girl, and lovely with it. Can you tell us if there a break-in at the house? And, did she have a boyfriend?’
‘Good morning, Virginia. I read your article about her. There is no obvious evidence of a break-in. As for her having a boyfriend, that will be one of numerous lines of enquiry. We do have a dedicated team speaking with her family, friends and her teachers, et cetera.’
As one journalist sat, another stood and the questions flowed. Everyone had a deadline to make. After fifteen minutes Dylan lifted the palm of his hand to the crowd. ‘Ladies and gents, I’m going to have to bring this to a halt. As you’re aware this major investigation is in its infancy and there’s a lot of work to be done. So, once again, thank you for your attendance and assistance. You can be assured one of my team, or I will update you, as we make progress.’
Dylan stood. Vicky and Connie took his lead. Virginia caught his eye with the raising of her hand.
‘I’ll call you later with some background info that we obtained when we did the article.’
Dylan gave her a brief nod of his head. ‘Thank you.’
Dylan strode along the corridor back to the incident room at a pace. Vicky had to run to keep up. ‘Connie said them microphones pick up a fart,’ she said matter-of-factly. ‘And if you’re nervous… God, my head hurts when I run.’
Dylan spoke over his shoulder. ‘Only you, Vicky, only you…’ He walked on. ‘You shouldn’t drink so much and why would you be nervous? Apart from the killer, we are the only people who know what happened, so who’s going to challenge you? Have confidence.’
‘Easy to say…’ Her mouth held a grimace towards Dylan as he turned at the door. He stopped.
‘Never, ever, be afraid of talking to the media. They have a job to do, just like you and me. Support them, and they’ll support you. Look at it this way. They’re going to find answers to their questions somehow. And, those answers might as well come from you, as the SIO, because if the information they get isn’t accurate then it could lead to all sorts of problems and detract the public’s attention from what’s important – catching the killer.’
The incident room was a hive of industry as the pair walked through it to Dylan’s office within.
‘You didn’t get an ear-bending off Jen for being so late last night then?’
‘No, she was asleep.’ Dylan was distracted as he read notes that had been left for him on his desk.
‘Oh, good. The last thing I want to do is cause you hassle.’
Dylan turned his computer screen to face him. ‘You won’t.’ His telephone rang. ‘Jack Dylan.’
‘It’s Sam the photographer from the Courier. Virginia said to ring you.’
‘Go on, Sam.’ Dylan’s eyes rose to see Vicky looking questioningly at him.
‘I was wondering if you’ve had chance to look at Elliot Black?’
‘Why, should we?’ Dylan’s forehead held a frown.
‘It’s just something that made me a little uneasy when we were working on the feature about her.’
‘Go on.’
‘He said he had hundreds, thousands, of photos of her and was reluctant to let us take our own. Eventually he agreed, but he took some persuading and still insisted on showing me his vast collection. And it was just the way… Like I said, it’s probably nothing.’
‘I guess we’re all guilty of taking lots of photos of our children, but what are you trying to say, Sam? Spit it out.’
‘Yeah, being a photographer, I must be the biggest culprit. But, some were… let’s say, a little suggestive and it wasn’t just that. When we were there he was forever putting his arm around the lass and saying how attractive she was. It left me feeling a little uneasy, you know?’
‘Thanks for that. He will be going under the microscope, don’t worry.’
‘I knew he would be, but the boss thought I should mention it.’
‘Absolutely! If he made you feel uneasy when you were at the house with Patti then it’s good we know that.’ Dylan replaced the phone on its cradle. He was thoughtful.
Vicky’s expression was searching. Her fingers lay idle on the keyboard. ‘All’s not what it seems in the Heinz-Black household?’
‘I’ll type up the contents of the call and pass it into the incident room for recording. Time will tell. Does Elliot Black have any previous, do we know?’
‘I was just doing some research. Elliot Black came to our attention about three years ago. He got a Caution for theft.’
‘He’s no major criminal then?’
‘Maybe not, but you might be interested to know that it was for stealing knickers off washing lines?’
Dylan’s eyes were wide. ‘You’re winding me up?’ He gave a little laugh. His mobile rang.
‘I’m not. God’s honest truth, read it for yourself.’ She chuckled. As she spoke she turned the computer screen to face Dylan. Dylan shook his head and put his phone to his ear.
‘I’m sorry love, I can’t get away this afternoon.’ Dylan said to Jen. ‘I know you want to view the house as soon as… Look, you go, if you like it then I’ll go as soon as…’ There was silence. ‘Is that okay with you?’ Again silence. ‘Okay, see you later.’ He put the phone back in his pocket. Dylan’s face was set when he turned his attention back to the computer screen. ‘Okay, let’s see what they say about him at his place of work, and if he said anything to them about why he was nipping home?’
‘For his charger… Or other,’ she said raising an eyebrow.
‘Or other?’ He nodded his head. ‘The elimination of the person discovering a body with blood on their clothes is always going to be the starting point. But it will be interesting to see what he says in interview about his relationship with Patti.’
‘Has some grooming been going on, or is that just our suspicious minds?’
‘Investigative minds, Vicky.’
Chapter Four
Brelland railway station had served the village of Brelland in Yorkshire well for near on one hundred years. It was on the Harrowfield and Brelland Junction Railway and closed in 1976. Because of its location the powers that be had not thought it important enough to have a stone built station at the time, so it was constructed from timber. However, what was built at the same time, of Yorkshire stone, was the station house.
The property details in front of Jen did this property no favours. Jen looked up at the magnificently unique building, dilapidated in principle, and instantly fell in love. Natalie, the estate agent, waited with bated breath – the station house had been on their books for as long as she had been at the estate agents.
Jen turned to face her and her smile was wide. ‘You look like the cat that got the cream.’ Her eyes narrowed. ‘But, you haven’t seen inside yet,’ she said dangling a set of old keys that hung on a scorched paper fob in front of her. ‘Shall we?’ she said taking a step towards the door.
‘Do you mind if we take a look around the outside first?’ Jen said tentatively. ‘Oh look, there’s still coal soot on these walls,’ she said excitedly. ‘And wow…’ Her hands touched the graffiti, some of which dated back to Victorian times.
The timber station building remained, as did a platform with a set of waiting rooms. In the gap where the train tracks used to be someone had made a bizarre attempt to install a swimming pool but this had never been completed and what remained was a nasty black puddle. Natalie hurried her inside.
On the sitting room floor, the marks of a stationmasters’ hobnail boot remained, and there were grooves where he had pushed his chair around.
‘It’s perfect…’ said Jen. ‘Just perfect.’
Natalie was hesitant. ‘You sure?’ she said screwing up her nose.
‘I’ve never felt so sure about anything more in my life.’
‘Let’s wait to see what your husband has to say about it, shall we?’
‘Oh, I know he’ll just love it too,’ said Jen.
* * *
Today the family of Patti Heinz would be scrutinised. It was necessary to eliminate any involvement or knowledge of the murder before moving the enquiry forward and outside of the home.
The school, St Martins, would be another place that would be a hive of police activity, as well as enquiries at the gym Patti used, and there would be an in-depth interview with her trainer.
‘Make sure you check to see if she had a locker at either of these locations, and if so, search and seize any items therein,’ Dylan told officers going to the school and gym.
He also told Detective Sergeant Nev Duke to remind his team to seize any of Patti’s personal property that they may discover.
House to house was continuing around Burford Avenue.
‘I want to know who calls at Colonial House, and that includes the postman, the milkman, a regular marketing company… Ask around. Someone must know something. Has there been any cold calling lately? Jehovah’s Witnesses? I’m stating the obvious, I know, but I don’t want anyone to be overlooked if they’ve been to the house recently, for whatever reason.’
It was to be an industrious day on all fronts and Dylan’s first job was to prioritise exhibits that needed to go to Forensics. Emily stood beside him and touched her nose, a habit that happened when she was thinking, he was beginning to realise. She screwed up her nose and sighed at the pile of seized objects. ‘How the hell do we start to prioritise from that lot?’
‘Best guess?’ said Dylan.
Emily laughed. ‘Really?’
‘We send the exhibits that will hopefully yield evidence.’
‘Why not send them all?’
‘Like most things it comes down to money. I have a budget and boy do I know about it if I overspend. Which I usually do, but there you go. How do you put a cost on catching a murderer?’
Dylan pulled various exhibit bags out of the cupboard and put the items in piles. ‘The swabs obviously need to be in this first batch. If they come back with a DNA profile that’s going to give the enquiry a massive boost in these early stages, which will allow the team to quickly and positively eliminate any potential suspects.’
Emily looked overwhelmed. ‘It’s just… the amount of… I wonder if the partial bloodied footprint we found at the side of the body belongs to Elliot Black’s shoes?’ She pointed to a large brown paper exhibit bag with a see-through line down its centre to reveal its contents.
‘I’m beginning to feel this is not in your nature but we have to be patient. We’ll get the answers in due course to all the questions that will come into an investigation of this magnitude. But we have to wait for Forensics to do their best. And in the meantime, we pray.’
Dylan could almost see Emily’s brain ticking. ‘So, let me get this right. Exhibits are filtered before going to be examined. Prioritised by way of what you think might reveal best evidential results, and then drip-fed in a continuing stream to Forensics.’
* * *
Detective Sergeant Vicky Hardacre as Dylan’s deputy senior investigator on the enquiry, and Detective Ned Granger, had been given the task to interview Elliot Black. This wasn’t a formal interview but it was decided that they would do it away from Sandra Heinz, at Harrowfield Police Station, which also allowed Jaene Booth quality time to talk to her alone.
‘This way Dylan says we’ll be assured of independent responses, Ned,’ said Vicky as she stood with her hand on the handle outside the interview room door. ‘Assure him that the interview isn’t being recorded. He can leave any time he likes, he’s not under arrest. Ready?’
