Chapter 16
Chapter Sixteen
DI Henry Bishop was alone in the incident room.
He hadn’t been able to sleep and decided tossing and turning and kicking the bedsheets was not conducive to a good night.
At five o’clock, he got up, had a wash, dressed in yesterday’s suit, and headed for work.
Unfortunately, being alone in the office did nothing for his productivity.
He pulled out a chair at a random desk and lit up a fag, staring at the smiling face of Alice Patterson through the fog of cigarette smoke.
As one cigarette was dying, he lit up another, and continued until it started to get light outside and the sound of the police station waking up could be heard through the double doors.
He was hungry and could smell fried food coming from the canteen, but he couldn’t draw himself away from the incident room and that poor innocent girl glaring at him from the murder board.
The door opened. Stephen Osborne walked in and used his hands to waft away the thick cloud of smoke.
‘Jesus Christ, Henry, do you have to smoke so much? You know me and Carole are struggling to have kids. I had a test last week and the doctor found evidence of nicotine in my piss.’
‘Then keep your nob out of my ashtray.’
‘Very funny,’ Stephen said. He went over to the windows and pushed them open. A blast of freezing November air came in.
‘Fuck’s sake, Stephen. Shut those windows.’
‘Not until some of this smoke has gone and I can at least see the far side of the room.’
‘You worry too much.’
‘And you don’t worry enough. Have you been here all night?’
‘A couple of hours.’
‘Why?’
‘I couldn’t sleep. Although if I knew you were going to turn this office into a sodding chest freezer, I’d have stayed in bed. Close those bastard windows,’ Henry exclaimed, standing up and moving across the room.
Stephen rolled his eyes and went back to the windows. As he leaned out to grab the handle, he saw the cars of the journalists pull up in front of the building. ‘Jesus, they’re starting early today.’
‘Who?’
‘The press are here again.’
‘Of course, they are. They’re never away.’
‘I went into the paper shop on the way in. I didn’t buy one. Alice’s funeral is on all the front pages.’
‘I can’t understand why we don’t have anyone for her murder yet. It’s a small community. Surely someone knows if one of their friends or family members is a killer.’
Stephen sat down at his desk and wiped away the ash Henry had left behind. ‘Maybe he doesn’t have any friends and family. Maybe he’s a loner.’
‘He’s got to have someone. We’ve all got someone in our lives.’
‘Who have you got?’
‘Two ex-wives and three kids who won’t talk to me. A mother who thinks I’ve wasted every opportunity I’ve had, and a sister in Shetland.’ Bishop thought for a moment. ‘Fuck me, when you put it like that, even I don’t have anyone who’d notice if I killed someone.’
The doors to the incident room opened and WPC Freya Sloan entered wearing her uniform. Her hair was neatly combed and pulled back into a severe ponytail. She looked fresh and clean, and she brought with her a hint of fragrance that took the edge off the smell of cigarettes, though only slightly.
‘You wanted to see me, sir,’ she said.
‘I did?’ Henry asked, looking her up and down.
‘Yes, sir.’
‘Stephen?’ Henry looked to his DS. Stephen shrugged.
‘Sergeant Potts said you asked for me last night just as you were leaving, but I’d taken yesterday off as a rest day.’
‘Oh, yes, I remember now. Pull up a chair, love.’
Freya looked around her, found one chair that wasn’t covered in stains or cigarette burns and pulled it up to the desk Henry was sitting at.
‘Right then, you’ve spoken to Alice’s parents more than any of us have.
Now, I won’t lie to you, love, but we’re clueless on this one, and we’re going back to the beginning.
I want you to go back round to the parents and ask them about close friends and family members.
They’ll have come for the funeral, yesterday, I’m sure of it.
I want to know if any of them behaved differently… ’
‘Morning, boss,’ DC Chris Tyler interrupted as he arrived for work.
‘Chris,’ Henry acknowledged then went back to Freya. ‘People don’t just rape and murder and go back to their normal lives. That’s what I’m saying here. Has anyone stood out to the Pattersons since the murder?’
‘I don’t think Geoff and Judith will have taken any of that in, sir. They were both very distraught yesterday.’
‘But they’ll have mingled at the wake. They’ll have had people coming up to them saying how sorry they were. They’ll have known who was sincere.’
‘There wasn’t a wake, sir.’
‘Wasn’t there?’
‘No. Geoff said they didn’t want anyone back at the house. He and Judith wanted to be on their own.’
Henry frowned and sat back in his seat. A couple more DCs entered the room and said their good mornings, but he ignored them. ‘How do you know all this?’
Chatter among the plain-clothed detectives increased. Freya had to raise her voice. ‘I went round yesterday afternoon. I wanted to pay my condolences. I wanted to see how they were coping.’
‘Did you?’
‘Yes. sir.’
Freya could feel the eyes of everyone in the room burning into her.
‘Did anything strike you as odd about them?’
‘No. They’re a genuine grieving couple, sir. If you want, I can get a list of family and friends and go to see them.’
‘That might actually be a good idea,’ Stephen said. ‘If she went to see them in an unofficial capacity, they might tell her more than they’d ever tell someone from CID.’
Henry lit up another cigarette as his frown grew deeper.
‘Boss, I spoke to a few of the prozzies down near the front last night,’ DC Edward Ritter began.
‘I thought you had a smile on your face when you first came in,’ Osborne called out.
Laughter filled the room. Freya’s blood rose in her cheeks at the casual sexism.
‘Don’t be vulgar, Ste, there’s a lady present,’ Ritter said, eyeing up Freya.
‘What I was going to say, boss, is that I asked a few of them if they have any dodgy clients, you know, blokes who stand out as being a bit weird. A couple of them mentioned this young bloke. A big mountain of a man. He never does anything with them, but he likes to watch.’
‘Did you get a description?’
Ritter dug his notebook out of his coat pocket and flicked to the relevant page.
‘He’s not old, sort of in his mid to late twenties maybe.
He’s tall, well over six foot, and he’s fat.
A giant of a man. He’s not aggressive or anything.
He’s got dark hair, bit untidy, always wears an anorak and dark clothes. ’
‘There’s someone who works in Whitby Library who matches that description, sir,’ Freya said.
All eyes turned to her.
‘Who?’
‘I can’t recall his surname, but the manageress called him Anthony.’
‘You mean Whitby Community Library? The same library Alice went in?’ Henry asked.
‘Yes, sir. The manageress, Jane Wilkinson, she said he and Alice chatted all the time. He was always telling her jokes.’
‘Thank you…’
‘Freya, sir. WPC Freya Sloan.’
‘Thank you, Freya. You can get back to your duties now.’
‘Do you still want me to go and talk to Geoff and Judith?’
‘No. That won’t be necessary.’ Henry waited until Freya had left the incident room and the doors were closed behind her. ‘Who was doing the library? Didn’t one of you mention a weirdo?’
‘I did,’ Eddie said. He was scrambling through his messy notebook. ‘Anthony Winstanley.’
‘And?’
‘And what?’ Eddie asked, looking sheepish.
‘A weirdo in the library where Alice goes who matches the description the prozzies gave you last night, a bloke who likes to watch women have sex, probably repressed, inexperienced, horny. Is this not ringing any bells with you, Eddie?’
‘I… I didn’t really think about it, sir.’
‘Fuck me! Why do I bother with you lot?’ Bishop stubbed out his cigarette even though it had only been half-smoked.
He stood up and rubbed his hands together.
‘A weirdo who likes watching prostitutes having sex, and friendly with Alice. Maybe he tried it on with her. Maybe she rejected his advances and he snapped. Eddie, Chris, get down to the library and get his alibi for the night of the murder. If he doesn’t have one, bring him in.
I’ll go and tell the super we’ve got a person of interest in our sights.
That should keep the jackals of the press off our backs for a bit.
And Eddie,’ Bishop called out as Eddie and Chris reached the door.
They both stopped and looked back. ‘While you’re at the library, ask if they’ve got a book called Policing for Beginners. Something in big print with pictures.’