| |
Six o’clock the next morning Dylan snuck out of the bedroom onto the landing, and as he walked past Jen’s memory boxes, for the first time he felt a real longing for corroboration of his childhood. Carrying his footwear and with light-footed steps he made his way down the stairs. No one stirred, other than Max who greeted him at the bottom with a raisin of a sleepy eye and a slow wag of his tail. When Dylan passed the Golden Retriever and walked down the corridor the dog rose slowly and with a little moan stretched out his arthritic back leg, which gave away his ageing. However, once up on his feet he sprightly padded across the kitchen, towards the back door. Dylan let him outside into the garden whilst he hurriedly, collected his briefcase and top coat. He opened a cupboard, the shelves were bare apart from two mugs and Maisy’s cup, three dinner plates, bowls and side plates. He opened the drawer to find three knives, forks and spoons. He turned to the table and underneath he saw the sealed boxes – he afforded his morning face a smile. Jen was organised as always.
Dylan put his arm in the sleeve of his overcoat as the front door slammed behind him. He lifted his gloves to his lips, held one between his teeth and put his fingers one by one in the other, on his way to the car. He could see his breath before him. It was still dark. Winter was coming there was no doubt – he shivered, as he turned the fan of the heater on full.
***
In his office he stood at the window, under which folders were lined up on the floor, his hands on the radiator, thinking. The window shutters were open to the outside world, one that was awakening with speed as the clock struck seven-thirty. He suddenly felt very warm. He undid his coat. Vicky appeared at the door, two mugs in her hand. She smiled and yawned at the same time.
‘We need to check the sex offenders’ register and make sure all those registered have had their DNA checked against our profile,’ Dylan said briskly, as he slipped into his chair behind the desk.
‘It should have already been done,’ she replied.
‘I know that, but I want to be absolutely sure. We don’t want anyone slipping under, over, through the net.’ He picked up the mug she had placed on his desk and took a gulp of strong, hot, coffee. ‘Are there any recent, recorded incidents at the swimming baths that are a cause for concern?’
Vicky sat opposite him with her mug nestled in her lap. ‘Just one that’s been brought to our attention.
‘Tell me more.’
‘On more than one occasion there has been verbal complaints about a man making inappropriate suggestive comments to girls in the pool, which appears to have progressed to him touching others. He’s been spoken to by the management who have a record of this happening and action taken apparently. The fact that they felt the need to advise him about his behaviour concerns me.’
‘Why haven’t they banned him, or at the very least reported it to us?’
‘He denies it.’
‘Do we have a name?’
‘A Malcolm Roberts, he’s thirty years old.’
‘Any pre-cons?’
Vicky shook her head, ‘Nope.’
‘Do we know if he knows Patti?’
‘There’s a suggestion he may do, but that’s all it is, a suggestion.’
‘He’s a prime target for a DNA swab.’
‘Absolutely, I’ll get Andy and Ned on it today.’
Dylan drained his mug and handed it over to Vicky as she stood.
‘Swimming baths always seem to attract ’em don’t they?’
‘They do.’ Dylan sighed. ‘When I were a lad, I remember Brelland baths had changing rooms around the edge of the pool. The saloon doors were hardly private. Kids used to run around pushing the doors open and then diving back into the water.’ A chuckle escaped from Dylan’s lips.
Vicky cocked an eyebrow at Dylan. ‘Sounds like someone’s speaking from experience?’
‘You’re joking. I was too busy keeping away from the cockroaches that had fallen in the water.’
‘Really? There were cockroaches at the swimming baths?’
Dylan nodded his head. ‘There were.’
***
It was lunchtime and Dylan watched as his officers sat at their desks eating their meal. Detective Sergeant Nev Duke was no different, eating and working at the same time. He was a thinker, not a joker and never tried to be anything other than serious when he talked about the enquiry. In total contrast to Ned Granger sitting opposite him. To be fair to Ned he was totally committed to finding the killer, but he also made it known that he liked the overtime because it paid for next year’s holiday, a new car or some other treat. The job also allowed Ned to live the life of a single man in some respects – using the excuse of the enquiry to work late, or go to the pub. Whilst they all enjoyed the extra money, something that the rank of Inspector or above didn't get – the long hours, and snacks on the hoof instead of sitting down to a warm meal, wasn’t good for their health and well-being.
As a matter of routine Dylan had arranged for Sergeant Toft in the incident room to monitor the hours that officers worked along with their individual workloads. Any concerns he had highlighted and sent to Dylan so he could speak directly with the officer, and suggest to them that they take some time off. If they didn’t do it voluntarily Dylan would instruct them to do so.
Dylan saw a strand of hair fall across Vicky’s face, she tucked it behind her ear as she and Andy updated him later that afternoon, it softened her face. She looked tired.
‘Roberts hasn’t been to the swimming baths since Patti’s murder,’ said Andy. ‘We do have his address which was recorded at the baths on the application form for his annual subscription. Flat 4, The Elms.’
Vicky yawned.
‘Keeping you up are we?’
‘No,’ Vicky’s eyes snapped open. She smoothed her hair with the palm of her hand. ‘According to Si the house-to-house team have done enquiries at this address, but failed to get a response. However, one of the neighbours did appear because of the loudness of the knocking and she told them that she believed Roberts had gone away, and that he was expected back at the weekend. His council flat overlooks the entrance to Bartlett’s Academy for girls would you believe?’
Pen in hand Dylan doodled on the corner of his blotting pad – the face of another stick character. ‘You’ve obviously marked his card on the strength of the incidents at the swimming pool. He’s no convictions so there can be no objections about where he lives as far as the council are concerned.’
There was a brief pause in which time Dylan had given his stick character arms and legs. ‘You’re right, as usual. There’s no other intelligence on him.’
‘On the positive, by the weekend he should be back and then we’ll set about eliminating him,’ said Andy.
Dylan’s eyes were flat. ‘Thank god we have a DNA profile, otherwise we’d be struggling to eliminate some of these suspects quickly, and easily.’
‘Before I joined the police, I honestly didn’t realise there were so many weird and wonderful people out there.’
‘You don’t have to look far Vicky, there are a few that work here.’
‘Who are we to judge,’ said Andy.
Dylan slapped the palms of his hands on his desk. ‘Exactly!’
As if a bell was needed to end the meeting Dylan’s phone rang. He snapped it up.
‘Dylan.’
‘Force Control sir, Sergeant Paul from the Road Incident Investigation Team has asked me to inform you that one of your incident room vehicles have been in collision with another vehicle, a short time ago.’
‘Anyone hurt?’ Dylan interrupted, his eyes finding Vicky’s.
‘No, damage only. The driver of the offending vehicle, a Skoda, apparently pulled straight out of a junction and ran into the side of the police vehicle. It’s believed the driver was using his mobile phone at the time, and he’s also failed a breathalyser. He’s under arrest.’
‘And the officer driving the CID car?’
‘Detective Sergeant Toft who has also been subjected to a breath test and failed; he’s also been arrested. Both are en route to Harrowfield cells.’
‘Thank you for the call and tell Sergeant Paul from me I’m grateful for the heads up.’ Dylan sighed aloud. ‘Bloody hell! As if we haven’t enough to deal with.’ He sat back in his chair. ‘Toft was driving the CID car along a road apparently, doing nothing untoward. When a Skoda rams into the passenger side of the car. Fortunately no one was hurt.’
There was an audible sigh of relief.
‘Thank god,’ said Vicky.
Dylan shook his head. ‘The driver of the Skoda failed the breathalyser and so did Toft. They’re both on the way to the cells. Of all the people, I would never have said Toft would drink and drive.’
Vicky’s jaw dropped. ‘I thought he didn’t drink? He’s never once joined us for a quick one, after work.’
‘If he’s over the limit... ’ said Andy.
‘He’s off the enquiry – that’s Force policy. Nip down to the cells Vicky will you, see what you find out. It’ll look less obvious if you go instead of me.’
