Heart of the Demon (D.S.Hunter Kerr) (15 page)

DAY TWENTY-TWO: 28
th
July.

The intermittent trill from the alarm clock pounded Hunter’s ears. Grunting he rolled over and swung out an arm to smack it off, pulling back quickly as the pain registered in his ribs. It was a sharp and tender reminder of the fight with the Paynton's.

The strong coruscating light of early morning sunshine filtering through the curtains should have given him the vigour to leap out of bed and yet somehow he felt totally drained. Dropping his head back onto the pillow he shut his eyes. In that instance the images of the melee flashed inside his head. Especially that look in his father’s eyes. Not one of anger, but actually of pleasure. He s
napped open his eyelids again hoping to dismiss the mental pictures in his imagination, but they were still there, haunting him. He eased himself up into the sitting position, letting off a low moan. Seeing Beth’s face screw up as he disturbed her he kissed her gently on the forehead, rolled out of bed and made for the bathroom.

Stepping out of the shower he delicately dabbed the towel over his wet torso. He hurt like hell this morning. In the mirror he examined his well-defined stomach and ribcage. The bruising had already taken on an intense purple shade. Thank god he’d been able to cover his face.

It took an eternity to dress and he had to skip breakfast to get to work on time. As he pulled his Audi out of the drive Simple Minds, ‘Alive and kicking’ played out from the radio and he laughed to himself, and then winced as it caused him much discomfort.

Turning onto the bypass he wound down the driver’s window to let in the fresh morning air. It was already warm and not yet seven-thirty am. The road ahead was clear and ELO’s, ‘Mr Blue Sky’ had just started. He turned up the sound and forced down the accelerator.

Half a mile from the station the wail of two-tone horns approaching from the rear and at speed tore his attention away from the pounding music. Glancing in the rear view mirror he picked up the ambulance screaming towards him and he pulled in and hugged the kerb as it shot past. As he picked his speed back up he hoped to God it wasn’t going to be another call requiring his team to attend. They didn’t need another murder at this time - they were fast running out of detectives.

* * * * *

Following morning briefing and the de-camping of the teams from the MIT department to carry out their daily tasks the Detective Superintendent had called together Hunter, DS Mark Gamble, the two supervisors of the MIT teams, Detective Inspector Gerald Scaife, the office manager who coordinated all the actions, and Isobel Stevens, the supervisor of the HOLMES team, to review the investigation.

They had all been told to meet in the conference room and they were now seated around the large table. In front of them they all had several A4 size computer generated replications of the timelines relating to Carol Siddons and Rebecca Morris, and a summary of the important issues taken from key statements of witnesses, which had been supplied by Isobel’s team.

The Detective Superintendent had already mentioned that he wanted to discuss the status of the investigation and by the end of the meeting confirm the strategy for the next phase of the enquiry.

“Heard the latest?” said Detective Superintendent Robshaw, leaning forward, resting his chin on cupped hands and roaming his eyes around the table. “Seems somebody gave Steve Paynton’s two brothers, and one of his cousins a good hiding. One of the brothers has got two broken ribs and a punctured lung, another has a broken nose and cheekbone and several teeth missing, and the cousin has a broken jaw and a badly gashed eye. Rumour has it that a police officer was involved.”

Hunter saw the SIO land his gaze upon him. Defensively, he shrugged his shoulders and gave him a ‘why are you looking at me’ expression.

“Anyway it seems none of them want to make a complaint, and we’ve got too much on our plate to have to follow up on malicious gossip.”

As the Superintendent leaned back in his chair
, folding his arms, Hunter saw that his eyes were still fixed upon him. Seeing that look, he knew in his mind that Michael Robshaw was letting him know that he was fully aware of what had gone on, and more than likely realised what lay behind it, and that he wanted him to know that nothing ‘on the shop floor’ slipped past him despite his managerial position. Equally Hunter knew that the Superintendent was making it quite clear that given the circumstances he was prepared to not make a great fuss about it.’

A bright shaft of sunshine pierced the gap between the partly closed blinds covering the many large windows which spanned one side of the conference room and reflected off the surface of the well polished oak veneered table giving additional warmth to the already stuffy room. Michael Robshaw unfolded his arms and, using a hand held remote control switched on the air conditioner. A low hum came from the unit high up against the ceiling and an almost instant coolness drifted down.

Michael Robshaw said. “Okay, I’m going to open things up. Firstly, have we got anywhere yet with the playing card found with Rebecca Morris, or these markings carved into the bodies stomachs?”

Hunter looked up from his papers
and diverted his eyes towards the white melamine boards lined up at the front of the room. He particularly focussed on the blown-up photos of the killer’s signature on Rebecca’s and Carol Siddons’ abdomen. He couldn’t help but notice the contrast between the pale waxen flesh of Rebecca and the wrinkled parchment-like skin of Carol’s mummified body. It made the marks appear so different. He thought that Professor McCormack had done a magnificent job spotting them.

“I’ve been thinking,” said Isobel Stevens, an experienced detective with twenty-two years’ service behind her and who had joined the HOLMES team following the Home Office review arising from the mistakes of The Ripper Enquiry. She had been elevated to the role of Supervisor within a short space of time. She was generally the first to be called out whenever a new investigation required the HOLMES network to be set up.

She continued. “We know from all the enquiries that DC Sampson has made that they are not religious markings or anything to do with the occult. So could they be a code of some kind?”

Hunter tilted his head as he stared at the images, recalling what Isobel had just said. The puzzle the killer had left behind had been playing on his mind ever since the pathologist had highlighted it.

He swayed his head the other way to get a different view. Then it hit him. The flashback to earlier that morning when the ambulance appeared at his rear was the trigger. He recalled how that in his interior mirror he had been able to pick out the wording on the front of the vehicle because it was written in reverse.

“I’ve got it,” he couldn’t help but blurt out. Pushing
himself out of his seat he made his way to the feature boards. He tapped the shots taken of Caroline Siddons torso. The marks were clearer on these.

“It’s a word, don’t you see?”
He moved his finger right to left underlining the marks. The last digit is not a number three, it’s a letter E. It’s written facing backwards. And they’re not roman numerals they’re all letters. Look,” he continued tapping excitedly. “He’s carved the word EVIL backwards into these girls’ stomachs.”

Hunter saw that he had grabbed all their attentions.

“Bloody hell Hunter,” interjected Det Supt Robshaw, “I think you’re right.”

A silence ensued around the table.

It lasted a good ten seconds then Isobel piped up. “So is the killer saying he’s evil, or the girls are evil?”

Hunter tapped his chin; pondering. “I think he’s saying the girls are evil. That’s why he did to them what he did. Just think about it, Carol Siddons was taken into care and within a month or two had completely changed character. Her background statement describes her as a drunken, violent and promiscuous girl. She had become known as a girl with a bit of a reputation. And then Rebecca,” he
aimed a quick glance at the school photo of her. “We know from her best friend Kirsty Evans that Rebecca wasn’t the sweet innocent girl we have pictured here. She’d become a bit of a rebel the few weeks prior to her death. In particular she’d started flirting with older lads to an extent she’d get them worked up to expect sex and then she’d push them away and embarrass them. If we surmise that the killer got to know that side of their characters then maybe in his twisted little mind he saw them both as evil and needed to be punished.”

Hunter returned to his seat.

“Okay,” said the Detective Superintendent rubbing his hands together. “Well done Hunter, you’ve convinced me with that explanation, unless anyone has another interpretation.”

The detectives around the tables all looked at one another. A few shrugged.

The SIO looked along the sea of faces. “So what’s the significance of the playing card? The seven of hearts found on Rebecca Morris’s body, yet none found with Carol Siddons.”

Blank stares faced him back.

“We don’t actually know there was no card with Carol’s body,” returned Hunter. “Quite a lot of earth had been removed around her before the digger uncovered her remains. It could still be amongst the waste we’re sorting through.”

The team nodded in acceptance of Hunter’s response.

There was further silence for a good thirty seconds then Detective Superintendent Robshaw said, “Right, the playing card issue is one we need to think about for future briefings.” He leaned forward, clasping his hands together into a ball “And I don’t need to remind you all that what we discuss here doesn’t get to the press. The playing card and the markings on the body we keep to ourselves, okay?”

There was a nod of acknowledgment from the team.

The SIO unclasped his hands. “Right let’s move on. Isobel give us a rundown of what we have so far.”

Isobel dropped her paperwork onto the desk and lifted a pair of reading glasses, hanging from a cord around her neck, onto the bridge of her nose.

As Hunter listened and watched Isobel he couldn’t help but notice that over the years, at every new investigation, she seemed to have put on extra pounds, and he couldn’t help but think that her pudgy features made her appearance look older than her forty years. He guessed it was down to all the constant deskwork and long hours, only able to grab fast food and in-between snacks, to fuel her working day.

She cleared her throat and began to read slowly through the pages of summary, occasionally pausing to cross reference with the two timelines to confirm sightings and evidence. She began with Carol Siddons affirming that her mother Susan had last seen the fourteen-year-old schoolgirl, on the twelfth of October 1993, after making an unofficial visit from school to her mother’s house, instead of going back to the residential care home where she had been placed by the courts.

“Carol spilled tomato sauce on her school clothes and so her Mum loaned her a pair of jeans and a cardigan and saw her to the bus stop at half past nine. She left her at the bus stop and that is our last sighting until her body is discovered on the old Manvers Coking plant site ten days ago. Now this is where we have had a real breakthrough. A PC Paul Goodright, who used to work here in Barnwell CID back in nineteen-ninety-three, has come forward following the Crimewatch appeal. It appears that on that night he had his CID car nicked whilst he was out on enquiries and that was found by a passing dog walker on fire on the dirt track behind the Coking Plant. The Fire brigade put out the fire and PC Goodright recovered a cardigan from the back seat of the CID car.”

“I remember that.” interjected Hunter feigning amazement, as though this was all fresh news to him. “I was working that night. I went out with Paul after the Fire Brigade called in with the news. Scenes of Crime were called but the car was badly smoke damaged and they didn’t manage to lift prints or anything unfortunately. The car had also got some front-end damage and there had been a fatal hit and run that same night. We’re certain it hit a car being driven by the boyfriend of Paul Goodright’s sister. The boyfriend was killed and she was badly injured in that crash. In fact it confined her to a wheelchair. He was trapped inside when it burst into flames. The gaffer at that time, DI Jameson, encouraged the Traffic Officers, who were investigating the accident, not to make the link with the CID car. I think he was going for promotion at the time and he thought it might affect his chances. Back then having the embarrassment of one of his department’s cars being nicked and linked with a fatal was not a sign of good leadership.”

“Well,” continued Isobel, “It seems PC Goodright recovered a cardigan from the back of that car and booked it in as evidence. He’s taken the trouble to search through old property at Headquarters and found the cardigan. It’s still sealed in its original bag and labelled and it’s been identified by Susan Siddons as the same cardigan she loaned her daughter Carol on the night she went missing. That’s on its way to Forensics as we speak.”

“That is good news” said the Superintendent elatedly. “This could be the breakthrough we’ve been looking for.”

Hunter lowered his head and smiled. Paul and Barry Newstead had come good.

“Now to Rebecca Morris,” continued Isobel. “As we know she was last seen walking towards a bus stop five hundred yards from her home, in school uniform. That sighting was at five to eight on the morning of the sixth of July – three weeks ago. Her body was discovered the next day in the barn of a derelict farm near to Harlington, four miles from her home. There are no sightings during this time and we are as happy as we can be that the man who discovered Rebecca’s mutilated body was not involved in her murder. The man who found her states he thought he heard someone running from the back of the farm and then a van or car driving away. We have no description of a person or vehicle.”