Consequences Page 22

  ‘I totally agree, but you know and I know that we’ll have to go where they send us.’

  ‘Do yer best.’

  ‘Don’t worry DI Dylan; I’ll do what I can. You’ll be pleased to know, I’m hearing on the grapevine, that Judge Fryer-Black wants him in front of him. He’s still known as the ‘hanging judge’ because he gives out such harsh sentences and if hanging were an available option to him, let me tell you, he’d use it.’

  ‘Good. That would be a bonus. It’s a shame the bastard can’t be sent to the gallows...but as long as you can assure me there’s no chance his manslaughter plea is going to be accepted I’m a happy man, for now. I’ll make arrangements with the Family Liaison Officers to let the Hind and Spencer families know. Thanks for the phone call. I presume everyone else will be notified by you in due course?’

  ‘Yeah, normal procedure will now commence,’ the head of CPS said as she ended the call.

  ‘John, I’m going into interview with Patrick Finch this afternoon. Will you ensure that all the evidence that we have is gathered on the Reynolds’ enquiry? Then we’ll go and see Malcolm again.’

  Lisa, the young office admin clerk walked in with an envelope for Dylan’s personal attention.

  ‘Some crank?’ Dylan said opening it. Lisa shrugged her shoulders. The writing was spidery, spasmodically written and almost illegible. The paper was stained and so he strained to read it.

  ‘Jack

  I might be a lot of things but I’m no murderer.

  Larry.’

  ‘Got an exhibit bag in your drawer, John?’ said Dylan, as he picked up the letter carefully by a corner, and placed it in the clear plastic bag John handed him.

  ‘It’s from Larry,’ Dylan said. ‘He doesn’t say much. Take a look, then get it checked out for prints and identification marks to see if we can pick up any evidence from it or prove it is him that wrote it; post mark, DNA on the stamp etcetera.’

  ‘The writing’s...hardly...’ John said, studying it closely.

  ‘Yeah, but at least if it’s his hand writing, we know he’s alive somewhere. We just need to find him and soon.’

  Dylan stood up to leave. ‘Right, so if you’ll ring the video unit for me and make sure everything is set up for Jen’s visit? Let them know who she is seeing, will you? I get enough earache from police officers at work, without getting it from her at home about people’s attitudes and unacceptable comments.’

  ‘Yeah, will do, no problem. Let’s see how good a witness she is.’ John smiled.

  ‘If she doesn’t pick him out I’ll never let her live it down,’ Dylan joked.

  ‘So, no pressure there then?’ John laughed.

  ‘Did I ever tell you about the case I once dealt with, involving my only witness, who saw the attacker just before he assaulted a woman?’

  John looked inquisitive.

  ‘The defence at the trial – in the middle of his evidence mind - asked him if he was born blind...and he said ‘‘yes.’’ Nobody from the police or prosecution had any idea about his disability and he’d picked the fella out of a line-up. So you can imagine the panic, can’t you?’

  ‘So what happened?’ John said.

  ‘Our Queen’s Council looked at me as much as to say, Shit that’s blown it, but the defence continued questioning the witness about his sight and he confirmed that although he’d been born blind he’d had an operation as a kid which had enabled him to see, but not one hundred percent. You can imagine my heart was in my mouth by this time.’

  ‘Christ Almighty. And this was your star witness?’

  ‘Yeah, the one and only, and it was a really bad assault as well. The defence didn’t leave it there. They wanted to show the jury that if the witness’s sight was in question, then his evidence was too, so they decided to test him by asking him what he could see, in the courtroom. ‘Can you see the judge?’ The defence asked.

  ‘Yeah,’ he replied.

  ‘Can you see the jury?’

  ‘Yes, all twelve of them,’ he said.

  ‘The man in the dock?’

  ‘Oh yes, he’s definitely the man I saw.’

  That obviously rattled the defence. ‘Okay then, now can you see the clock at the very back of the courtroom?’’

  ‘Yes,’ he replied obviously agitated.

  ‘And that is about the distance you were away from the man you saw, would you say?’ The defence asked, trying to smugly prove his point that he could only see the outline and not detail.

  ‘Can you now tell the court what time it is, please? To which the man promptly lifted his arm, looked at his wrist watch and said ‘Eleven thirty-two, sir.’

  Dylan laughed out loud. John stood aghast.

  ‘The court was in absolute uproar. The red-faced defence barrister didn’t offer any further questions and quickly sat down, presumably because he was embarrassed. To my mind it showed the jury what an honest person the witness was and a credible one too. This of course wasn’t the only evidence but what a bolt out of the blue that line of questioning was. The jury went on to find the perpetrator guilty and he got life imprisonment.’

  ‘Don’t tell me, Jen’s got a problem with her eyesight?’ said John.

  ‘Well?’ said Dylan thoughtfully. ‘She’s living me with isn’t she?’ Dylan sniggered.

  ‘My point exactly,’ John said.

  ‘Careful John,’ Dylan said, as he left the room.

  The atmosphere in the incident room was more relaxed. They were making headway.

  Dylan walked from John’s office to his own, where he found a ‘Kiss Me Quick’ hat and a stick of rock on his desk.’

  Out of the corner of his eye he saw Dennis Dors lurking in the corner of the general office. Because of his initials and surname Dennis’s nickname was Diana Dors. In no way could a man with his stature be mistaken for a woman and he hated it with venom.

  ‘Diana, My office now.’ yelled Dylan.

  Dennis was grinning broadly as he stood leaning on the door jamb to Dylan’s office door. His left hand was heavily bandaged, and the size of a boxing glove; the only reminder of his altercation with Todd and the machete.

  ‘What you got to smile about Diana?’ said Dylan.

  ‘Nothing, sir. There’s only you could get away with calling me Diana …’ he chortled.

  ‘Come in mate. Well done. Officers like you make me very proud. Would you like to join us in the office since you’re going to be on restricted duties for a while?’ Dylan said as he shook Dennis’ good hand.

  ‘That would be great Boss, thanks.’

  ‘You can make coffee with one hand can’t you?’

  ‘Yeah, I’m sure I can.’ Dennis grinned.

  ‘Then you’ll do for me kid,’ Dylan said, winking at him.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  DI Jack Dylan walked into the interview room with DS Patrick Finch at his side. He was tempted to smile but resisted the urge as he saw Jason Todd sporting two very swollen black eyes. His nose was no longer central to his face, and had a large plaster across it.

  His solicitor, Mr Hopkinson, introduced himself, explaining that he was representing Mr Todd; not Perfect & Best, whom Todd had requested, due to the conflict of interest the other arrests would have presented. After the formalities were over, they talked about his relationship with Susan Sharpe and her son Charlie.

  Todd responded to the initial questions quite calmly and quickly, stating that he couldn’t be certain he was Charlie’s father.

  Patrick Finch said that there was no doubt that the father of the child in question according to the paternity test, was him. He didn’t flinch at the revelation.

  When they started talking about the assaults on Charlie, his responses were a lot slower and to Dylan they appeared thought through. Todd didn’t deny hitting him but he denied hurting him.

  Then they put Charlie’s injuries to him.

  ‘I bet she’s saying it’s all me. I never wanted a kid in the first place. Susan said she was on’t pill,
’ Todd said, raging.

  The questioning continued to focus on each of Charlie’s injuries.

  ‘Yeah, I admit I wasn’t the best dad in the world. I couldn’t get him toys and that coz we had no money, and that’s why I ad to go out robbing,’ he said, trying to explain away his inadequacies.

  ‘But Charlie didn’t benefit from your robbing did he?’ said Patrick.

  ‘Why did you keep him locked away Jason? My dogs better looked after …’ he continued.

  ‘That were her job, looking after the nipper, not mine,’ Todd said.

  The bleeping of the forty-minute tape brought the first interview to an end. Dylan was pleased that Jason Todd was talking to them. In the next interview he would get stuck into his ribs.

  Patrick Finch started the second interview, and once again it began in the same vein. Then Dylan, no longer showing restraint, went straight for the jugular. ‘Why did you hit Charlie with the pool cue?’

  Todd looked shocked at Dylan’s first question and stayed silent, glancing slyly across at his solicitor. There was something different about Todd that Dylan had noticed the moment he had sat down. He was short of breath, there were sweat beads on his forehead and he constantly wriggled in his seat.

  ‘Why did you use a lead on him, break his bones and fracture his skull?’ Dylan continued.

  Again Todd didn’t respond. His solicitor took notes but stayed silent.

  ‘Do you use drugs?’ Patrick asked.

  ‘Yeah,’ he answered.

  ‘Why did you want the others to try to make him cry? They tell us they were frightened of you, and that you were the only reason they hit Charlie.’

  ‘That’s fucking lies. I didn’t make them do anything. They’re just trying to save their own necks.’

  ‘Why don’t you tell us your side of the story then, Jason?’ said Patrick.

  ‘We just want the truth.’

  Todd glanced at Mr Hopkinson who nodded that he should proceed. Patrick looked at Dylan hopefully. Most solicitors would have asked for a break to advise their client.

  ‘I didn’t know the nipper was mine. She’s been about a bit, but the council gave her the house because of him, so . . .’

  ‘So you moved in for a free bed?’

  ‘All he ever did was whine, he never stopped. He always wanted something. She shouted at him and slapped him, but it didn’t make any difference, so I told her it was no use, she’d have to bray him. If she’d have just hit him once and it hurt, he wouldn’t have done it again would he? God she’s as thick as a fucking plank.’

  ‘So you just showed her how hard to hit him to make him cry.’ Dylan said, trying to egg him on.

  ‘Yeah, as he got tougher I had to use something other than me ’and to hurt him though. If I picked him up he bit me like an animal. He was crazy, like he was possessed or summat.’

  ‘So, because he bit you, you used things like a pool cue to hit him with. Why?’ Dylan probed.

  ‘So he’d stop whining and he couldn’t get near enough to bite me.’

  ‘Did you take any drugs the night before Charlie died?’

  ‘Don’t remember, if I had some I would have.’

  ‘Susan said you hit her.’

  ‘Yeah, I did. She drove me fucking nuts sometimes.’

  ‘Did Susan hit Charlie?’

  ‘Yeah. She hit him and screamed at him like a nutter.’

  ‘Alan Connor, Chubby told us you hit him and told him to hit Charlie.’

  ‘No, I fucking never. What would he remember, he was well out of it. I didn’t tell him to do ’owt. He’s fucking mental.’

  ‘Mental or not, Chubby Connor told us that Charlie wouldn’t eat. Why do you think that was?’

  ‘Because he was too bloody lazy.’

  ‘Not because you had broken his arms, then?’ Dylan said.

  Jason Todd was silent and had the grace to hang his head.

  ‘If you couldn’t cope, why didn’t you get help? You must have known you’d hurt Charlie, when you saw his cuts and bruises.’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Does your nose hurt Jason?’ said Dylan

  ‘Yeah, it fucking does. I’m gonna sue that copper.’

  ‘You’re a big lad,’ Dylan said. ‘So if that hurts you, how do you think Charlie felt? He must have been in horrendous pain, mustn’t he? When you broke his arms and threw him into the wall?’

  ‘He didn’t cry.’

  ‘Did you?’

  Todd looked stunned. ‘No.’

  ‘You went wild at Charlie the night he died, and then ran away to Blackpool didn’t you?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘You knew you’d killed him, didn’t you?’

  ‘No. He used to close his eyes when he didn’t want to do what he was told. I didn’t think he was dead.’

  ‘Can you explain why Charlie deserved such continuous, violent beatings from you, Connor and Sharpe?’

  Todd stayed silent, staring down at his hands on his lap.

  ‘Well?’ Dylan probed. ’Do you think you’re a hard man Jason?’

  He stayed still and quiet.

  ‘Or just a bully? You attacked a poor, defenceless child; beat him with a pool cue, burnt him, broke his limbs. What on earth had he done to make you so angry with him? What?’ Dylan shouted.

  ‘It’s what dads do.’ Todd shouted back. ‘Teach their kids to behave.’

  ‘No. You battered him so hard you killed him for God’s sake. You treat him like an animal...your own son, your own flesh and blood.’

  ‘It wasn’t just me,’ he shouted.

  ‘Where is the pool cue? Got rid of it because you knew it was the murder weapon?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Where is it then?’

  ‘I threw it.’

  ‘Where?’

  ‘Over a fence.’

  ‘Oh, over a fence eh?’

  ‘Yeah.’

  ‘You mean you tried to get rid of the evidence. You knew exactly what you’d done. You tortured the lad daily, then beat him to death didn’t you? Make you feel good did it?’ Dylan was digging at him.

  Todd got to his feet, fists clenched. ‘That’s bollocks it wasn’t just me.’

  ‘Sit down,’ Dylan instructed him. ‘Now.’

  Jason Todd did as he was told.

  Mr Hopkinson cleared his throat. ‘Perhaps we could have a break at this time?’

  Dylan nodded his head in agreement.

  There was a chill in the interview room and the hairs on the back of Dylan’s neck rose, as he stared long and hard across the table into the cold, dark eyes of a child killer, before he left the room.

  In the next interview they would tidy up the other matters: resisting arrest, having an offensive weapon, robbery, but ultimately the main charge would be murder.

  Dylan’s problem would be identifying who caused which particular injury, so he knew he’d have to go for the charge of ‘joint enterprise’ and he hoped the prosecuting barrister, judge and jury would accept his decision that all three of them were collectively responsible.

  ‘Patrick, will you charge him with murder, please,’ said Dylan after the third interview. ’Whilst I ring Dawn and let her know what happened and see how she is?’

  ‘I will, sir,’ Patrick said. In Dylan’s eyes, Patrick seemed to grow a foot taller as he watched him walk down the corridor to the detention cells. Patrick was pleased he’d called him by his name. Dylan was learning. ‘That’s job satisfaction for you,’ Dylan whispered to Lisa, as she passed, and they smiled together. Lisa followed Patrick through the security gateway to the cells.

  The Custody Sergeant brought Jason Todd to the charge desk. Patrick read out the charge of murder to him and the Custody Sergeant recorded the fact that he made no reply.

  ‘How’s my top DS and baby doing now?’ asked Dylan.

  ‘We’re both fine. I feel so stupid; fancy. I’ll never live it down will I?’

  ‘You’ll just have to remember to take more water with it
next time girl,’ Dylan said, laughing. ‘Now, are you sitting comfortably, because I don’t want to cause any more traumas?’

  ‘That sounds ominous,’ she said, chuckling. ‘But yes, I am.’

  ‘Connor, Todd and Sharpe are charged.’ Dylan said. A lump appeared in his throat as he heard her sob at the news.

  ‘Oh, God I wish I could have been there Jack,’ she cried. ‘Hormones...’

  ‘Well there’ll be plenty of paperwork on the file, for you to do when you get back, so don’t you think you’re getting away lightly, girl. And some more news, our child murderer is at court a week on Monday for the murder of Daisy Charlotte Hind and Christopher Spencer. He wants to plead to manslaughter but …’ he heard her gasp. ‘Don’t worry, I’ve told CPS there is no way we’re accepting the plea. His defence is provocation. So we’ll have a murder trial next year.’

  ‘Thank you for that; it’s got to be murder. It’s so kind of you to ring me straight away after the interviews Jack; I was wondering how things were going, thank you. Oh, and I’ll be at court with you a week on Monday. I’ve been for a check-up today and the doc says he’s pleased with my latest bloods.’

  ‘That’s good news, now just you get yourself rested for then. We all miss you. Did you hear about Dennis Dors breaking his hand on Jason Todd’s nose?’

  ‘He never? Good for him. Give him a kiss from me.’

  ‘I’d do a lot of things for you Dawn, but I draw a line at that,’ he said with a chuckle. ’Now rest, there is nothing spoiling here, so don’t rush back and that’s an order.’

  Before he put the phone down, he heard her sigh deeply, and he knew Dawn well enough to know tears would be running down her face, and she’d be wiping them with one of her pretty little hankies.

  ‘Where’s the prosecution’s main witness,’ Jack shouted as he went in the house.

  ‘You tease,’ Jen said, as she ran to meet him.

  ‘I’ve just had a panic. What if I don’t pick him out?’ she said, as she reached up for a kiss.

  ‘You can only do your best, love.’

  ‘John Benjamin rang me, it’s tomorrow; eek.’ she screeched.