A Perfect Likeness (22 page)

‘It might not be, although it could be, but I hope it isn’t.’

‘Good grief, man, you’re talking riddles. What have you got?’

‘Guv, I’m real sorry to disturb you, but I’ve just been informed there is a man at the offices of
The Draycliffe Argus
confessing to the murder of both our girls. He’s speaking with the editor at this moment, giving her a full report, after which he says he wants to be arrested and charged.’

‘I don’t believe it, Colin, it cannot possibly be true. I’m going straight over, see you there.’ Deckman cleared the phone and looked at Jenny. ‘What’s next, I wonder? Now we have a man at
The Argus
claiming responsibility for the two murders.’

‘Is it not possible, darling?’

‘No, Jens. Well, only if Colin and I are leaning against the wrong lamp-post. And it better not be right, for Michael Campbell’s sake. Sorry, darling, lunch is over, it’s time to go home.’

*

‘And tell me, Mr Becketts,’ asked the editor of
The Argus
. ‘Why did you consider it necessary to kill these two women?’

‘I’m only doing the work of the police. They should be clearing our streets of this kind of filth. As they appear unable then someone else has to. I have taken on that responsibility and I now hope the true situation will be brought to the public of our town. The police must be forced to take appropriate action before it’s too late and Draycliffe becomes one large bawdy-house. And now will you hand me over to the police, please.’

Becketts was led away by DS Fraser while Deckman spoke to the editor.

‘Mary, a word of advice. It all sounds good, but be careful about what you print. I suggest your article is without name and, of course, photograph and just say that a man is being interviewed.

‘Do I take it that you are not impressed with this confession?’

‘I’m not. There is, of course, a chance he is telling the truth, but we are following leads that don’t include our friend, Becketts. Just be careful what you say and how you say it and don’t quote anything I have said, including the fact we are following leads.’

‘I get the message, Terry, you believe that he could be a hoaxer?’

‘I’m not saying that for sure, but I believe there is a pretty good chance. We’ll see within the next couple of days. Just take note of what I have said, Mary, and no mention of my thoughts. Okay?’

Deckman knew just about anyone could commit an assault or even murder given the right amount of provocation, but this man had not done what he had admitted to. Or had he? Deckman could not be sure anymore, he could not trust his own judgement.

Becketts stood five feet ten or eleven, with the correct weight for his height. Well spoken, educated and smartly dressed with a navy blue double breasted suit, white shirt and red silk tie. The red carnation in his button hole would have been a good finishing touch under different circumstances but the brown brogues were a mistake. Although he had chain smoked his way through six cigarettes during his confession, there was no sign of nicotine staining on his fingers to confirm it was habitual. He had inhaled each intake deeply and savoured it before throwing his head back and allowing the smoke to escape through his nostrils. Deckman was convinced he was acting. He had to be.

‘Right, Sergeant, let’s take him away.’

‘What about a charge. I demand to be charged, Inspector. After all I have confessed to both murders so why not charge me now?’

‘We’ll decide when and what to charge you with, Mr Becketts,’ said Fraser. ‘Now be a good chap and give me your wrists so I can complete your elegant dress with a couple of nice silver bracelets.’

‘Sergeant, this is not a joking matter,’ said Becketts. ‘You are not taking this seriously enough. I am admitting to two murders you know, not a parking ticket.’

‘Yes, Sir, I do understand, but why don’t we leave these people to get on with their work and we can have our cosy chat at the station.’

Becketts was handed over to the custody sergeant and instructed to empty all his pockets.

‘Can I keep my cigarettes, I’m lost without them?’

‘No, Sir, you can’t. No more smoking for quite a while I’m afraid. It’ll do you good, and much better for us as well.’ Becketts was led away to the cells.

‘Do we know anything about Becketts, Colin?’ asked Deckman.

‘Nothing as yet, Guv, except he’s local and married. Bob is on his way back with Mrs Becketts as we speak.’

‘Good, we’ll see what she has to say before we have a go at Mr Becketts. I very much doubt that there is anything, but best do a check to see whether he has committed a murder or two before.’

Deckman was surprised when Mrs Becketts was brought into his office, she looked older, a lot older, than her husband. He shook her hand and invited her to sit down.

‘Good afternoon, Mrs Becketts, I’m Detective Inspector Deckman and this is Detective Sergeant Fraser. We have your husband in custody because he has confessed, in an interview with the editor of
The Argus
, to the murder of two women. We have yet to interview him ourselves because we felt it better to talk with you first; to get some background on your husband. I appreciate this must have been a terrible shock for you, but please give us as much information as you can. Something that might help us understand why he should make such a confession.’

‘He’s always been such a good man, Sir, but for the past two and a half years he’s been under such pressure and internal torment. He worked as a senior architect for a large building group in London that was swallowed up in a merger. Kenneth was made redundant and, since then, he has changed so much. He has applied for so many jobs, but is always too old or over qualified. He has taken it so badly and drinks far too much. He goes out at night and does not come home until the early hours of the morning. I really can’t take any more. And now this. I can’t believe it of him. Surely he couldn’t have done it, Inspector?’

It was too much for Mrs Becketts. She had tried hard to remain calm, but could hold out no longer. She sobbed and covered her face with a handkerchief. Deckman nodded to the WPC sitting by the door who went over to Mrs Becketts and placed a caring arm around her shoulders. Mrs Becketts was a small woman, no more than five feet tall guessed Deckman. She wore a thin, flowery, summer dress despite the winter temperature and a knitted coat that had lost its shape and hung loosely over her skinny form. Her face ashen, almost bloodless, and her hair tousled.

‘Colin, get Bob to make Mrs Becketts a cup of tea, in a clean cup. Mrs Becketts, I’d like to continue if you don’t mind. In your husband’s confession he makes reference to prostitutes being the scum of the earth, and if the police don’t resolve the problem he would. Why would he make such a comment?’

‘Kenneth was… is a deeply religious man and has, for some reason, picked up this crusade against prostitutes. It’s all so embarrassing. He would point them out in the street and shout obscenities at them. I made excuses not to go out with him after a while. I am surprised he hasn’t been reported to the police.’

She sipped her tea. ‘Thank you, Inspector, I feel better now.’ She sniffed and wiped the tip of her nose with the tissue given her by the WPC. ‘I’m sorry, Inspector,’ continued Mrs Becketts, ‘it’s been very difficult for me as well, and of course, for the children. He’s broken the heart of the family. My daughter wants me to leave him. To move in with her, but what would happen to Kenneth if I did?’

‘Well, Mrs Becketts, if he has committed these murders, he’s not going to bother anyone for a good many years.’

‘No, Inspector, I’m sure he did not do it. Despite his confession, I am sure he did not. But why, Inspector, why did he confess?’

‘I will talk to you again after speaking to your husband, Mrs Becketts. You have been most helpful and I don’t wish to pressure you any further. You will not be able to see your husband for a while so may I suggest we take you home and we’ll call you when you can see him. Is there anyone who can stay with you?’

‘You are very kind, Sir. Thank you. My daughter will stay with me, I’m sure.’

*

‘Mr Becketts, you have been arrested following your confession that you murdered two women …’

‘Women, no. Prostitutes, yes. Scum of the earth,’ interrupted Becketts.

‘We are going to examine your confession,’ continued Deckman, ‘to see if we can find out the real truth.’

‘Don’t waste your time, Inspector, I’ve given you the truth. Just charge me and get it over with.’

‘Where were you on the night of the 21
st
September, Mr Becketts?’

‘That was the day I murdered the first prostitute. I went out about 11. 30pm with a view to ridding my town of at least one whore. I found one by the railway station, saw no one was about and stopped the car. I confirmed she was scum, got out of the car and stabbed her in the heart. I did not check her because I just knew she was dead. I got back in the car and drove off. It was as simple as that.’

‘What did you do with her handbag and jewellery?’

‘Er… I dumped the bag in a wheelie bin and she was not wearing any jewellery.’

‘And the murder weapon, Mr Becketts, describe it and tell me what you did with it?’

‘It was an ordinary kitchen knife with a plastic handle. I bought it the day before in a local hardware shop. It had a long thin blade and I used so much force it went in right up to the handle.’

‘Where is the knife, Mr Becketts?’

‘I threw it away two days later. I wrapped it in a plastic shopping bag and put it in a dustbin that had been placed out for emptying. Can’t remember where exactly but somewhere along Marine Parade.’

‘And the second murder, Mr Becketts?’

‘Very similar. Found her near the industrial park, walked with her to a suitable location and stabbed her. She believed I wanted her services. How could she think such a thing. Disgusting creature. She had no jewellery, just a watch that I removed and threw down a drain. As before, I put her handbag into a refuse bin.’

‘Mr Becketts, do you really expect us to believe you. Anyone who read the newspaper reports could have said what you have just said. And, probably with more conviction.’

‘That’s how it was, Inspector, and I threw away the knife with the watch.’

‘I’ve heard enough, Sergeant. Take him back to his cell. We’ll charge him in the morning for …’

‘About time, Inspector, you’ve seen sense at last.’

‘I was about to say, Mr Becketts, we’ll charge you in the morning with obstructing the police by falsely claiming to have committed two murders.’

‘What are you talking about, man? For Gods sake, I’ve admitted it. What more do you want?’

‘The truth, Mr Becketts. What we don’t need is someone like you coming along and wasting our valuable time. I will tell you one simple fact. We know the same knife was used in both murders. You have said you used…’

‘I could have made a mistake with that. I was in shock, hyped up at having to do the work of the police.’

‘Take him away, Sergeant, before I become more angry than I already am. And, Mr Becketts, you need to do some hard thinking during the night about what you are going to tell me in the morning. You have caused enough problems for your wife and children over the last two years. You are not the only person to have lost a responsible job at a difficult age. Get yourself together, man, before you lose everything that was dear to you.’

Kenneth Becketts opened his mouth to speak but thought better of it. All of a sudden the brashness of Becketts disappeared. He closed his eyes tightly, hoping to suppress the wetness forming in the corners. He kept them closed as he was escorted out of the room and back to the cells.

‘Shoe laces, belt and tie please, Sergeant, and get custody to keep an eye on him.’

‘Right, Sir, will do.’

Under different circumstances, Deckman could have felt sorry for Becketts; losing his highly paid job at fifty was never going to be easy. However, an architect should be able to start his own practice rather than lose his head altogether. He felt the man had lost an opportunity, albeit enforced.

*

Deckman arrived home in time to get the boys off to bed, which they enjoyed. Especially the pillow fight, which Jenny didn’t enjoy. Nevertheless she always smiled at the shrieks of laughter as it meant her husband was home. And the boys were happy.

‘Okay, you two, that’s enough for tonight otherwise your mother will be after us all. See you in the morning.’

Deckman relaxed in his favourite chair, in front of the imitation log fire. The central heating was on minimum but he enjoyed the flickering of the flames. Jenny had placed his drink on the side table.

‘Thanks, Jens,’ he shouted to his wife who was busying herself in the kitchen, ‘just what I need and I seem to be needing it more frequently at the moment.’ Purrington jumped on to his lap and curled up, purring continuously until he went off to sleep with Deckman’s hand cupped under his head.

Jenny expected her husband to be more tense after the lunchtime news. ‘You appear surprisingly at peace with the world, darling, dare I ask how things went this afternoon?’

‘Just fine, Jens. Kenneth Becketts did not murder those women, we’ll let him go in the morning with a dressing down. Unfortunately it is the likes of him who cause as much a problem as the real criminal.’