To Catch a Killer
Chapter II
A Deadly Game Begins
Bexton Police Station 3:00 p.m.

 

                        CS Larkin bounded into the Incident Room with a determined walk; striding up to the office of DI Marsh.  He walked in abruptly and demanded to know what was going on.

                        "What's this about another body without eyes?  This is crap.  I want to know, what this guy is all about, what is he up to?"  Larkin glared angrily at Marsh, never once taking his eyes off him.

                        "He's playing a game with us.  He tells us that this guy saw too much, but now the game begins."

                        "How the hell are you going to solve it sat on your arse?!"

Marsh didn't answer; he just sat there looking at Larkin.  Neither man said anything for a few moments, and then Larkin sat down and sighed heavily.  Marsh offered him a cigarette.  Larkin took one.

                        "These things will bloody kill you Marsh, if I don't first."

The two men laughed heartily.  But murder is no laughing matter as they both knew.  Tomorrow or the next day, the killer could strike again.  Or he could leave it for months and torment them.  One this was for sure - they would hear from him ‘with a clue to his next kill'.

Bexton College of Music one week later

                        "See you on Monday Harry", shouted his mate Derek Bond after finishing the morning session.

                        "Yeah, see you soon.  Have a good weekend."

Harry Twist a music enthusiast and College professor, was a small man, but stocky.  Derek and Harry had been mates for years ever since they met at junior school in North Bexton.  Both men had a love of Chamber Music and loved to play at the College at the weekend after work.  It was part-time but the men loved it.  They both aspired to set up their own group and start a workshop in Chamber Music.  Derek lived on the East side of Bexton near the football ground and was twenty five years old.  Harry lived in

Briarcliff Road, South

Bexton near the hospital.  He was twenty six years old.

 

                        The two friends met regularly at a café for lunch three days out of five.  Monday was just not going to be an exception.  They never changed their routine; it was thought illogical.  Usually the topic of conversation was what was going on at work, but today, it was the two recent grisly murders.  Sunday passed without incident, then Monday lunchtime came and the two men were at the same table in the same café.

                        "Terrible isn't it these murders?  It's all over the newspapers.  They say he's a giant to be able to kill in this way."

                        "He must be strong", replied Harry.  "To cut the throat of that poor girl and almost sever her head in one go?  Gosh, I wouldn't like to meet him on a dark night."

Derek carried on eating his steak ciabatta, whilst discussing this issue further.  Neither of them noticed a man watching them from a short distance away.

One of them would not meet the other the following Monday.

 

 

Bexton Police station Incident Room 9:30 a.m. two days later

                        "How are we getting on ladies and gentlemen please; a little shush.  We need some answers, because CS Larkin is getting narkin'"

There was a ripple of laughter from the coppers present.  Helen Givens was not present which went noticed by Marsh.

                        "Where's DC Givens please, anyone know?"

                        "I think she went to SOCO1 to pick up some interesting evidence."

                        "Well, I can't wait for her.  Let's get on with it.  Somebody fill her in when she get's back"

One detective commented from the back "I'd like to fill er in!"

                        "I'm sure you would and so would her husband Max.  Just be careful how you jest."  Max looked sheepish.

                        "Right.  Still no word from the MOD Gates?"

                        "Just heard this morning, they sent a fax through with the names, rank and addresses of those on leave.  There's not many!"

                        "How many?"

                        "Six sir"

                        "Should be easy to track those six down for alibis then.  Do a DNA blood sample on them."  Gates stood looking at him.  "Well get a move on Gates, the quicker the better!"

Gates started to run out of the Incident Room and bumped into a very out of breath Helen Givens.

                        "Nice of you to join us Givens.  Got an excuse for being late I hope - it doesn't take you an hour to get to SOCO1 and back for evidence."

                        "Sir, I've more important things right now than SOCO1."

Marsh glared at her.  "Like what?"

Givens held up a brown envelope with red writing.  For the Eyes Of Inspektor Marsh.

                        "It arrived in the post today sir; at my HOME!"

There were murmurs around the room.  The suspense was electric.  Everyone was on edge.

                        "Okay, we need to read this.  This is it folks; game on."

The letter was opened quickly and line by line the clue was written on the white-board in red pen.

      THE GAME THAT WE'RE ABOUT TO PLAY

      WILL NOT END IN JUST ONE DAY

      IT IS QUITE ACADEMIC WHO I'LL SET FREE

      A ‘TWIST' IN THE TAIL FOR YOU WILL SEE

      TO SET ON FIRE ALL YOUR FEARS

      ‘TIS MUSIC TO MY EARS

                        "Now, what do we have here and what does the word ‘twist' mean in the clue?"  Tom looked at it hard.  "It is quite academic who I'll set free?"  "What are we looking at here; academic?  Somebody give me another name for academic please."

                       

                        "Scholarly sir" Sandy Denis remarked.

                        "University" another shouted.

Larkin chipped in.  "Intellectual"

Marsh rubbed his chin with his left hand.

                        "To set on fire all your fears; ‘tis music to my ears"

There was silence in the room as everyone thought of their own version of what was to be played out.  Who was in danger?  Who is next?  Which academic?  Did he want to get at students, or something else?

                        "Bexton Music College!  Get a team down there right away and get the names of all the students.  ‘Twist' has to be the name of a student he is going to kill next.  Drive Helen home Sam for a few things.  Locate her husband and bring them back here to my office.  Sandy, get down to the college; take Andy, Max and Ken with you!"

                        The college was bad enough through peak time traffic, but on this day the usual drag was hampered by road works, bad weather and a road traffic accident on

Beckinsfield Road

pushing the usual thirty minutes to a temper fraying fifty seven minutes.  Ice was also forming on some of the minor road in and out of Bexton.  This added extra time to the journey and with the local council out on strike for further pay, no roads were being gritted.

 

 

Bexton College of Music

                        The principal of the college, Michael Preston, telephoned Derek Bond.

                        "Hello Derek, how are things?  I enjoyed particularly the performance on Saturday.  How is Harry?"

                        "He was fine when I left him on Monday Mike.  He said he wouldn't see me until Friday lunch but I haven't seen him since Monday.  Why do you ask?"

There was a short uncomfortable pause:

                        "Erm... he hasn't turned up for two days and I was just wondering if he was okay, or if you had seen him?"

                        "No, can't say I have with me working at the music shop and him in the college, I don't see him till Monday, Wednesday and Friday lunch times then on Saturday morning for the recitals, but then he said he wouldn't see me Wednesday."

                        "Mm.  Well, I'll phone his home again.  I may try his mobile in case he's on his way in."

Michael Preston put the telephone back on the rest.  He paused a few seconds then picked it up to dial Harry's number.  He dialled the first two digits when his secretary walked in.

                        "Sorry to trouble you Mike, there are four police officers waiting for you to get all the student's names together.  I think it must be something to do with this mad man."

                        "Send them in."

Detective Sandy Denis, a tall well built man in his thirties led his men in to the office.

                        "Mr Preston, I'm Detective Sandy Denis, these are my colleagues Detectives Max Oren, Andy Glover and Ken Baker.  We have reason to believe that the killer you have read about and heard about is about to play a deadly game with us and one of your student's could be his next victim.  Sir, we desperately need to see a complete list of students who are in all music classes."

                        "Of course.  I see!  Well, erm if you just bear with me I'll get it organised." 

He got up and went to go out of the door.  He stopped suddenly and turned to face the detectives.

                        "I know most of my students - what name are you looking for?"

                        "Twist - a boy or girl named Twist."

He fell faint.    "Oh, God no!" he cried.

                        "Do you know someone?"

                        "Yeah, but he's not a student, he's a professor and he's missed two days lessons.  We've tried to telephone him, but he's not answering his mobile or his home phone."

                        "What's his name and address?"

                        "Professor Harry Twist. 

106 Briarcliff Road, South

Bexton."

 

                        "Thank you.  Come on lads let's go."

 

Briarcliff Road

was about ten minutes in normal traffic.  On the way, Denis called for back-up.  The four arrived there in twelve minutes.  Back-up cars were already at the scene.

 

                        All four men got out of the green Vauxhall Cavalier.  Andy Glover was last out.  He stood for a few seconds looking at the scene.  He never felt the slug in the back of his head.  Andy dropped like a stone to the cold pavement.  The three other men had started toward the house, not noticing their downed colleague.  Max Oren turned to see where he was.

                        "ANDY!!!  Shit.  Andy's down!"

All officers ran to Andy's assistance, but it was too late.  He was already dead.  Shot through the head by a sniper's bullet.  Unexpected and totally silent.  This was a real blow to the team.  They still had to go and find Harry Twist.

 

                        A few officers stayed with Andy's body, while the rest of them entered

106 Briarcliff Road

.  Led by Sandy Denis, the remaining officers searched each room.  Sandy and Max went straight upstairs to the master bedroom.  This is where the body of the Night-watchman was found - in the bedroom.  A logical place to look.

 

                        "Prepare yourself Max", said Sandy, his heart racing as he pulled open the door.  The room was empty.  Relieved, the pair searched the remaining upstairs rooms.  No luck.  Going downstairs, they entered the kitchen.  It had already been searched but had it?

Sandy looked around and saw a chest freezer with the lid slightly open.

                        "Gentlemen.  Kitchen!"

They all crammed into the kitchen to see what was in the chest freezer.  Sandy found a broom handle, and prised open the lid until it revealed a whole lamb.

                        "Did anyone check the attic?" asked one of the regular constables.

The men all ran upstairs again and proceeded to open the attic door.  That's when Harry Twist's body fell out.  His face was cut off him as if it were peeled back and thrown away like a hideous mask.

 

 

                        Tom Marsh arrived at the same time as Angela Skinner.  One officer was found puking by the side of the road.  Pretty soon the psychologist would be called in to help with the after effects of Andy Glover's murder.  Marsh went to look at Glover's body first.  He could see the entry wound in the back of the head - the exit wound took out his entire front features.

                        "Poor bastard never stood a chance Angela.  It would have been over before he knew it."

                        "At least it was instant and unexpected for him.  He would not have felt anything.  That is the only consolation."

                        "Get him down to the mortuary as soon as you can Angela, I really do not know what I am going say to his widow."

Marsh sighed, turned and walked into the house.  The police activity brought a new kind of fever from the press.  DOUBLE MURDER - IS BEXTON SAFE?  Detective Denis was standing in the kitchen when Marsh walked in the house.

                        "Where is he?"

                        "Upstairs sir.  He fell from the attic."

                        "What's in the freezer?"

                        "A whole lamb, still fleeced; totally weird.  Today has been total shit.  I hate this.  The bastard is one step ahead all the time."

                        "DAMN!" screamed Marsh.  "Damn him.  Don't you see?  We missed him by yards!" 

Denis was bewildered.  "How do you mean sir?"

                        "That first murder Sandy, of the girl.  He was there in the crowd all along.  Skinner said that the body was "Knifed and then thrown into the canal upstream.  Floated under the current until she surfaced here."

                        "Yeah?"

                        "So how come her shoes and handbag were found where the body rose from the canal?  That's why the Night-watchman had to be silenced - he had seen the killer place the shoes and handbag there."

                        "And that's how he knew who was involved in the case!"  Sandy replied.

                        "Yeah.  He's not so clever, as he is cold and calculating.  He knew the risks of being there but he knew what the obvious advantages were."

 

Marsh walked outside.  He looked at where Andy Glover's body lay, then further across the road to the fields.  In the distance, he saw an old deserted farmhouse.

                        "Sandy!  Come here."

Sandy ran to him.        "Sir?"

                        "What do you see?"

                        "Where?"

                        "Four degrees to the right of where Andy is lying.  In the distance!"

Sandy looked and suddenly saw it for himself.

                        "A farmhouse sir."

                        "Right!  Come on, let's go."

The pair got in Marsh's car and drove off to investigate.

                        Arriving a little over ten minutes from the scene of the crime, Marsh's blue Jaguar XJ-S pulled into the private driveway leading to the deserted and abandoned dairy farm.  There was plenty of cover from the main road, with a dense tree line up both ways of the track.  When the track turned a sharp right, a privet hedge concealed the entrance to the main house.  Protruding over the hedge about five feet away was a hay barn.  Marsh pulled up outside the ramshackle building.

                        The farmhouse was built in 1762 and serviced five generations of farmers before falling bankrupt.  It fell into disarray in the late 1970's.  Marsh tried the front door.  It opened; creaking as it went, disturbing the doves that were nesting there.  Squatters had intermittently used it and later drug users repeatedly went there to use stuff.

                        Marsh headed up the stairs.  His first port of call was one of the two bedrooms that overlooked the fields.

                        "What are we looking for sir?"

                        "Casings; bullet casings from a rifle."

This bedroom drew a blank.  Bedroom two was just down the hall.  Entering quietly, in case the killer was still there, although in his mind he knew it was probable that he had moved on long since.

                        Marsh walked over to the sash window.  It was open.  He looked down on the floor and there it was.  A 7.62 mm casing.  He used his handkerchief to pick it up and put it in an evidence bag.

                        "We need to get that over to ballistics quick."

                        "Is that what killed Andy?"

                        "Yeah, and bloody quickly too.  Don't you forget it Sandy, this guy is a professional.  You won't feel it.  If he has you in his sights, you have no chance."

Sandy went cold inside.

                        "How far would you say it was from here to the murder scene?"

                        "Erm ... about 700 metres."

                        "More like 600 metres.  It was an instant kill.  Anything up to 600 metres with this kind of weapon is an instant first kill."

                        "Do you know what weapon he used?"

                        "It could be a Russian Dragunov SVD"   he said, not too surely.  "I would like it not to be, but we'll see when it comes back from ballistics."

 

Back at the Police Station - Marsh's office

                        Detective Sam Fitch arrived back with Helen Givens and her husband Mike.  Helen and Mike sat down and Sam stood behind Marsh's desk.  Marsh was sat in his chair.

                        "It's the first time I've been in here sir.  Seems funny actually, being in here not actually worried what you're going to bark."  Helen laughed nervously.

                        "Yeah, erm... do either of you want tea or coffee?"

                        "Coffee would do nice thanks", replied Mike.

                        "Anything for you Helen?"  Marsh asked.

                        "Erm ... tea please."

Marsh nodded to Sam to go and get them organised.  Sam went to the solid oak door, opened it and closed it behind him.

                        "Nice office."

                        "It's comfy Helen.  Comfy."

There were crime books everywhere, a leather chair which Marsh sat on.  Two telephones, a red one and a black one.  The red one was a direct line to Larkin.  An antique lamp stood at one corner of the huge desk, and a computer system at the other corner.  The computer was linked to the National Crime Database, the National Fingerprint Database, and other databases that were relevant to the work of a Detective Inspector.

Mike spoke up.

                        "Are we in any danger Inspector, because if we are, what are you going to do about it?"

Marsh paused a few seconds.  Fitch walked in with a tray of coffee and tea.  He set them down on an empty part of the desk.

                        "It seems that this certain person who is playing a game with us has found out where you live, that is why you are here.  You need a new place to stay until this guy is put away.  We need your cooperation" Marsh explained.

                        "Do you expect Helen to complete the case with you Inspector?"

                        "That would depend on Helen.  If Helen feels okay then she would be encouraged to complete the case as far as necessary.  If not, she would be taken off the case and re-assigned."

Mike looked a little happier.

                        "There is one thing though Mike," continued Marsh, "Helen and you would have to have twenty four hour protection.  That means twenty four hour armed guard until this guy is caught."

                        "Okay, but where do we stay?"

Marsh paused a while whilst rummaging through papers.  He found the paper he wanted and looked up at Sam.

                        "Do you think this would do?"

                        "Oh yes.  Absolutely fine."

It was a safe house used by police for a number of years.  It was not known to a lot of people because of its remoteness, but it was perfect.

 

 

24 hours later (Morning Update) - Incident Room, Bexton Police Station

                        "Sam, anything on ballistics?"

                        "Yeah, you're not gonna believe it though."

                        "Try me."

                        "It was the new Parker-Hale M-85; calibre 7.62mm NATO (.308 Win), 10 shot detachable magazine, and has guaranteed first round hit capability up to 600 meters.  It's 7.62 mm NATO round is ultra-lethal at closer ranges capable of a small entry wound and an exit wound of up to 180.50 mm at 500 metres or less."
                        "Bloody hell."
The room fell silent.  An already sombre mood turned decidedly edgy.  Marsh turned his face away from the room and looked at the murder board.  His eyes scanned every piece of evidence.  What had he missed?
The Incident Room telephone rang.
                        "Detective Denis, MIT; how can I help?"
                        "I'd like to speak with DI Marsh please."
                        "Sir, someone local for you."
Marsh looked, then took hold of the receiver and put the call on speakers.
                        "Hello, Detective Inspector Marsh here."
                        "THE GAME THAT WE'RE ABOUT TO PLAY, WILL NOT END IN JUST ONE DAY; IT IS QUITE ACADEMIC WHO I'LL SET FREE,

A ‘TWIST' IN THE TAIL FOR YOU WILL SEE; TO SET ON FIRE ALL YOUR FEARS, ‘TIS MUSIC TO MY EARS!  (Manic laughter)  I see you got my clue okay Marsh.  Academic, Twist, Music.  Did you get the last clue in the rhyme?  Yes, my dears set on fire all your fears!  I have you in my sights (laughter).  Well, must go as you will be tracing this, and we can't end the game just yet.  Goodbye Marsh."

The line went dead.  Marsh stood stony-faced as he replaced the receiver.

The telephone rang again, almost instantly.

                        "Hello, Marsh here."

                        "Forgot to ask you old boy, did you find my next clue in the freezer?  Quite appropriate I would say for my next kill.  Are you finding a pattern?  No?  Never mind, you soon will.  You and your team are clever.  Oh, erm... sorry about Detective Constable Glover - a necessary piece of collateral damage.  Necessary to the rhyme."

The line went dead again.

 

                        Marsh slammed the phone down and hit his fist into the desk.  The room when quiet.  No one spoke.  Nobody moved and inch.

                        "He's just apologised for the death of Andy Glover.  The bastard called him ‘collateral damage'.  I'll give him collateral damage when I find him."

 

                        Marsh went to his office and shut the door.  Sitting behind his desk, he put his head in his hands and tears rolled down his cheeks.  Andy Glover was only a new copper in MIT, spending the previous three years in CID.  He left behind a young wife of 24, and a young baby daughter; Chloe aged 6 months.  His killer saw him as ‘collateral damage'.  Marsh was angry.

                        The telephone rang in the office.

                        "Marsh" he said abruptly.

                        "Well hello to you!"  It was Angela.

                        "Sorry Angela, just having a bad day.  Just had a phone call from our killer; taunting me saying that Andy Glover's death was collateral damage."

                        "Damn.  Wrong time of day huh?  Erm... do you want me to call back Tom?"

                        "No, its okay I need someone to talk to.  I just hope we can catch this guy quickly, he's getting dangerous.  We are all in danger Angela, until he is caught.  He has a M18 Sniper Rifle."

                        "Damn.  Less than 600 metres, the results are not worth looking at, and not a chance of finding where the bullet ended up.  My son used them while he was an army sniper in the Gulf."

                        "I didn't know Les was in the army, you never mentioned it before."

There was a silence.

                        "Did I not?  Oh!  It must have slipped my mind."