Chapter 8
Chapter Eight
Detective Inspector Henry Bishop waddled into the smoke-hued incident room.
He ignored the chatter and went over to the top desk where he set his files and his mug of coffee down and lit up a fresh cigarette from one that was almost down to the tip.
He took a lengthy drag from the new one and let out a satisfied exhalation.
‘Right then, can I have everyone’s attention?’ he said above the din.
Slowly, the noise died down and everyone took their seats.
The CID incident room at Graves Road Police Station was a busy one.
This was where all the major investigations covering Whitby and the surrounding areas were run from and DI Bishop had a team of more than thirty detectives beneath him.
He didn’t run his unit with an iron fist and approached work how he approached his life in general, on the fly.
He gave out the orders but, at the end of the day, as long as the perpetrators were caught, he didn’t care how his team went about it. The end result was what mattered.
‘Uniform have dropped a bollock and it’s down to us to sort it out.
’ He handed the top file to newish recruit DC Chris Tyler.
He’d been there long enough to know not to wear his best suits unless he wanted the smell from cigarette smoke to cling to the cotton, but not long enough to have seen all the underhand tactics Bishop and his team practised in order to achieve murder convictions.
Chris began sticking photos to the murder board with Blu-tack.
‘Alice Patterson, age eighteen. She was reported missing on Monday night during the storm and found dead the next morning in woods opposite Whitby Cemetery. Uniform thought she’d been crushed by a falling branch. Turns out she was raped and strangled.’
‘Not much difference,’ someone called out. ‘I didn’t know we had Stevie Wonder working in North East Police.’
‘Precisely. But we know what uniform are like. Now, this is where she was found.’ He turned to the board to find Chris hadn’t put all the photos up yet. ‘Come on lad, shake a leg.’
‘Sorry,’ Chris said. He selected a photo of the woods and stuck it up with the others.
‘This branch was placed over her to make it look like an accident. So, the bloke who killed her saw an opportunity and took it. What does that tell us?’ He looked out at the sea of blank faces.
‘It tells us that this Alice lass wasn’t targeted.
It tells us she was just in the wrong place at the wrong time. ’
‘Or maybe the killer used the opportunity of the storm to go out and kill someone knowing that there would be very few witnesses about,’ Chris added.
Bishop turned to him. ‘Which means that she wasn’t targeted,’ he said more slowly and clearly as if talking to a child. There was a ripple of laughter around the room and Chris reddened in embarrassment.
‘Now, Alice Patterson. There’s something wrong with her … what’s it called?’
‘Down’s syndrome,’ someone called out.
‘That’s it. Anyway, the press is circling and they’re picking up on the fact she’s got this thingy syndrome, so we need to act fast. Now, a WPC spent Monday night and the best part of yesterday with Alice’s parents.
She thinks they’re acting the normal grieving parents, but we need to get them in and find out where they were around the time Alice went missing.
Also, Alice was a student at Whitby Community College and Alice’s mother said she went there on Monday as usual.
Again, we need to speak to her teachers and pupils and find out who her friends were, who she hung around with.
I doubt very much she had a boyfriend, so it shouldn’t take up much time.
Now,’ he paused while he lit another cigarette.
‘Alice was eighteen, she’s classed as vulnerable, so we need a presence on the streets.
Uniform is increasing patrols but I want you all to put the feelers out.
I want every weirdo and pervert questioned.
The sooner the scum from the press leave the better.
Any questions? Didn’t think so. Go on, piss off. ’
There was a wave of noise as Bishop’s team began allocating themselves with jobs to do. Bishop turned to look at the board where DC Tyler had stuck photos of Alice and the scene where her body was found. He looked at her smiling face and frowned.
‘What is it she’s got again?’
‘Down’s syndrome,’ Chris replied.
‘And what is that?’ he asked, taking a drag on his cigarette.
‘It’s a genetic condition where a person has an extra chromosome.’
‘You’ve lost me already. If it’s genetic, doesn’t that mean one of the parents have it?’
‘No. It’s pure chance. Anyone can give birth to a Down’s syndrome child.’
‘So, again, what is it? I mean, you can tell there’s something wrong with her.’
Chris rolled his eyes behind Bishop’s back.
‘They have physical and mental disabilities. As they get older, they’ll have a low IQ, sometimes that of a child of about eight or nine.
They can also have stunted growth and low muscle tone.
They’re also at increased risk of a huge number of other illnesses too such as congenital heart defects and epilepsy. ’
‘Jesus, they don’t have much going for them, do they? How come you know so much about them?’
‘My sister’s Down’s syndrome.’
Bishop turned to look at him. ‘Is she? Oh. Sorry,’ he said with a lack of emotion. ‘In that case, you can interview the parents. You’ll be more understanding than me,’ he said, walking away.
‘That’s not difficult,’ Chris said under his breath. ‘Fucking dinosaur.’
‘He might be a dinosaur, but he gets results,’ DS Stephen Osborne said.
Chris jumped. He hadn’t realised there was anyone hovering nearby. ‘Sorry, sir. I didn’t mean anything by it.’
‘Maybe not. Just be careful what you say and have a look over your shoulder before you say it. You don’t want to upset the wrong people.’
‘No. I’m sorry.’ Chris went back to his desk and sat down.
‘You all right?’ DC Ritter said, leaning close.
‘Yes. Just put my foot in it with Osborne.’
‘You want to be careful what you say around him. He’s Bishop’s eyes and ears when Bishop locks himself away in his office.’
‘Why?’
‘Osborne married Bishop’s cousin. Whatever you just said will get straight back to Bishop.’
‘Shit.’
‘Don’t worry. Bishop doesn’t hold grudges.’
‘That’s good.’
‘He’ll just break your nose with his elbow.’
Chris looked at him, worry etched on his face.
Ritter laughed. ‘I’m joking.’
‘Thank God for that.’
‘He’d get Osborne to do it for him out of working hours.’
‘I’m beginning to wish I stayed in uniform.’
‘It’s another world up here, mate. Not everyone’s cut out for it.’
Chris turned his seat around, so he was facing Ritter. ‘Do you get on with Bishop?’
He thought for a moment before answering. ‘I don’t think anyone really gets on with Bishop, not even Osborne. We tolerate him. He’s good at his job, though. The top brass upstairs tends to ignore him as long as he keeps banging up the killers.’
‘Ritter, come on, you’re with me,’ someone called.
Ritter stood up, slapped Chris playfully on the arm and told him everything would be all right, before leaving the room.
Chris turned around in his seat and looked at the smiling face of Alice Patterson.
He couldn’t help but think of his younger sister.
She was only twelve years old; too young to be going out and about on her own, unlike Alice.
He couldn’t wait to go home at the end of the day and see her. He’d give her an extra hug tonight.