Authors: Barrie Turner
As they walked back to the car, Inspector Taylor asked the Sergeant to drive, together with a request to pull in at the pub just down the road, stating that he could murder a pint, and that no doubt his colleague was in the same frame of mind.
Jim West readily assented as he brought the car to a standstill in the pub car park. After locking the vehicle, he followed his boss into the almost empty bar. Comfortably seated, with glasses in hand, they began to compare notes.
“Well, Jim, give me your thoughts on today’s proceedings.”
Sergeant West took a copious draught of the amber liquid, put down his glass, and replied, “He’s done it. He’s done her in. Obviously, he’s hidden the body somewhere and now he’s challenging us to find it. As things stand and without a body, we can hardly charge him and my guess is, at this moment in time, he’s feeling very pleased with himself because he thinks he is very smart and that he’s put one over on us. In fact, I wouldn’t mind betting he is already thinking to himself that he’s got away with murder.”
“Jim, I have to say that I agree with you,” the Inspector replied, and, despite the fact that he seemed to be so concerned, I felt that he was far too composed and very sure of himself. I’ll tell you something else as well, did you see that terrible worried look on his mother’s face when I asked him point-blank if he had done it. Although she can’t bring herself to admit it, let alone think it, deep down she’s wondering whether or not he’s killed his girlfriend. Also, and before I forget, what about Mrs Thompson’s reaction when she pulled you up about him being adopted? It looks like she has her own suspicions about it as well. So Jim, where do we go from here? My suggestion is, and it’s only a suggestion at this stage, we just wait a couple of weeks for developments then, irrespective of what transpires, we put him on TV together with the girl’s parents.”
Jim West responded quickly by agreeing with the Inspector adding, “Yes, and like most killers, he won’t be able to get there quickly enough. He’ll see this as his big chance to shine on TV in front of millions of people.” By now they were on their way back to Bromborough police station where they planned to brief a number of people on the results of their enquiries to date and the next moves to be made in connection with the case. Above all else, they wanted all personnel to be fully aware that, even without a body, and with nothing solid to go on in their eyes, Harry Thompson was still their number one suspect. Before leaving, they also arranged for more local searches to be carried out with the added proviso that the operation would be scaled up very rapidly whenever the time came to take matters further.
For the first few days after the killing he could barely contain himself as he scanned all sources of news in an effort to see what progress, if any, was being made by the police. Two weeks had passed since the disappearance of Diane Wilson, and, as far as the general public were concerned, it had now become old news. Without a body, he reasoned, there could be no worthwhile developments, and this led to a gradual decline in the feeling of euphoria he had experienced at the time. He kept telling himself that the police, as well as the public at large, didn’t have a clue, and the reason was simply due to the fact that he had been far too clever. Once he faced up to this, he knew that, next time, he would have to give them something to go on, and if that meant a body, then, he would give them one. He also knew that he couldn’t go back to Chorley Wood, nor could he raise the body of his first victim, Diane Wilson. That was too dangerous, and far too difficult. This meant he would simply have to find somebody else, and this would be a far greater test of his skill and intelligence. Pitting his wits against the combined talents of the police, and all their resources, he knew he would have to adopt a different plan and, also a varied approach. He’d learned a number of lessons from the first killing. This time, the planning would have to be meticulous, the attack and the killing, would have to be both swift, and sure. He was well aware that he would have to choose his victim with great care, and although it would still be a person selected at random, this time he would determine the time and the place. He would make certain that the girl was on her own and, above all else, he would have to ensure that she did not have the opportunity to scream or shout for help. In addition, he didn’t wish to travel any great distance with the body, or even move it too far from the actual killing zone. Finally, when leaving the scene, he would have to ensure he left no traces behind, and whilst he did not wish the body to be discovered too easily, he would have to make sure that it was not too well hidden.
He decided that his first priority lay in the location of the disposal point. Then he would find the most practical route there. He made up his mind that it would be far more practical, and easier, to conduct this search during the hours of daylight. He told himself that he must act normally without drawing undue attention to himself, or arousing any suspicion. With a new sense of purpose, the adrenalin began to flow through his body and he was making himself become visible once again. He began by walking along the nature trails and pathways through the woods at Eastham Nature and Country Park. He was trying to find a path, or a place, on the extremities of the woods and the golf course. Every day, scores of people walked the same pathways, and he found it very easy to stray and wander away from the recognized pathways and routes. Surprisingly enough, it didn’t take long to find a spot. It was partly fenced off, just beyond a boundary path. Beyond the fence there was a small, tree-lined incline where the ground beyond fell away to a ditch. The spot was absolutely perfect. If you didn’t know the ditch was there you would walk straight past it, and yet, on the other side of the fence, there were four full sized football pitches together with all the changing room facilities provided by the local council. Each of the football pitches were used twice on Saturdays and Sundays which meant there would be over three hundred and fifty footballers plus reserves and other minions as well as spectators and dog walkers passing by. Throw in the odd golfer or two and it was difficult to imagine the body lying undiscovered for too long. Later, and after further investigation, he found the place was even better than he had first thought when he discovered he could drive his car quite close to the fence without taking any silly risks or chances.
Now the location had been established, all he required was the killing zone, and the next victim. He began by taking the train along a local branch line which ran between Liverpool and Chester. From his starting point at Hooton station to his exit location at Bebington this involved a total journey time of nine to ten minutes which covered the seven stations along the route... He always made sure he had a valid season ticket in order that he could get on and off the train at any station of his choice along the route. As a result of these journeys, he discovered that, periodically, the station at Spital was left unmanned at night. He knew if he could be on the station at a time when it was unmanned, he could simply lie in wait. His chosen victim would then be made to walk some twenty or thirty yards along the railway path towards Port Sunlight station where he would be almost opposite the spot where he had lain in wait for his first victim. Once again it was perfect. There were no houses for at least a quarter of a mile and, with no lights, it was absolutely pitch black at night, plus, it was no more than three minutes maximum to get the victim loaded into the car for a further four-minute journey in order to dispose of the body. Now, the adrenalin really began to pump through his body and he could see himself, waiting on the railway platform steps, hidden from the platforms, just waiting, waiting for someone alone. Perfect. He permitted himself a smile, whilst considering that he had thought of everything including his course of action if more than one person alighted from the train. Obviously, if the sole person alighting from the train was a man, he would simply abort the mission and try again later when the next train came along ten or fifteen minutes afterwards. Alternatively, he reasoned, he could always check out the station earlier and then ride the train back and forth between the stations, waiting for the ideal opportunity; a woman, on her own in an empty carriage. Then, as the train approached Spital station, he would make his move. As the train slowed down on its approach, he would simply show the woman the knife and walk her off the train. More risk, no doubt about it, but well worth it, considering the excitement, the thrill of the chase, followed by the discovery of the body, and the hunt by the police for the killer. Yes, he was ready for it now. There was no need for a dummy run. ‘Just do it and let’s do it tonight,’ he told himself.
Angela Clarkson was a prostitute. Working her pitch on Rodney Street, Liverpool, you could usually spot her, and her colleagues who worked the same patch a mile away. However, whenever she visited one of her regular clients on the Wirral, she looked totally different. On these occasions, she always looked a much changed person. This was something that she had to do because the person she visited in his hotel left nothing to chance, due to the fact that he had far too much to lose. On these assignations all the clothes that she wore had been carefully chosen by her mentor and, whenever they met, he always asked her to wear a particular outfit from the many clothes that he had bought for her. Business completed, she walked from the hotel to the station in order to wait for the next train to Liverpool. Angela was feeling a little sad this evening because she was going away to live in London and this meant that she would not be seeing her regular client again. She had to go to London as she needed to earn more money to feed an ever-increasing drug habit and, at one time, she had even considered asking her mentor for help, but she just couldn’t bring herself to ask him. Sighing to herself that’s what life was all about, she looked at the watch her client had given to her as a parting gift and she wondered, would she would ever see Timothy Harris again. At this time of night the station was usually deserted, and tonight, apart from one other person on the platform, was no exception. Angela could hear the train approaching and she began to walk towards the edge of the platform.
As the train drew slowly along the platform she could see that it was almost empty. She deliberately chose to enter the last carriage, which was next to the carriage occupied by the guard who doubled up as a ticket and fare collector. Almost unnoticed, the other person on the platform also moved towards the same carriage, only he chose to board at the opposite end of the compartment to Angela. The guard was halfway down the train carrying out his other duties, and, other than a most cursory glance in their direction, he paid them hardly any attention whatsoever.
With the guard engaged elsewhere, he entered the compartment, and although he didn’t show it, he was already considerably aroused, and becoming increasingly excited. He could see her at the other end of the carriage facing the same way as the train. This meant she had her back to him and this was so important to his plan. He moved just over halfway down the compartment and sat down. In next to no time the train was leaving Bromborough Rake station, and it was next stop Spital. With excitement mounting within him, it was almost time for him to make his move. No point in rushing things, he told himself. He had to wait until he felt the brakes slowing the train down, then it would be all systems go. He felt his body becoming tense, his rate of breathing increased, and his heart began to pound faster and faster, louder and louder, so loud in fact it was a wonder she couldn’t hear it. He stood up, and he made his way silently towards the door. Each step brought him closer to her, and to death. He felt the train braking, then he was abreast of her. Making it appear he had lost his balance as he stumbled against her, he had the knife at her throat in an instant. God, it felt so good to see her stiffen and freeze, that he almost ejaculated on the spot. Then, observing the fear on her face, and the look of abject terror in her eyes as she saw, then felt the knife at her throat Angela became aware that he was talking to her.
“Whatever you do don’t scream and you won’t get hurt. Just get off the train with me at the next stop and do exactly as you are told.” The train stopped and they both alighted. The guard was standing quite some distance away by the first carriage, and as he stepped back on board and signalled to the driver to start the train again he didn’t seem to notice anything untoward. As they stepped from the train, Angela noticed with considerable apprehension, that the platform was empty. She saw the train for Chester pulling away from the opposite platform and, as she mounted the footbridge steps, she knew full well that the station was totally deserted. Making their descent over the other side, she saw the rear lights of the Liverpool train swiftly disappearing in the distance.
Realising that her life was now in jeopardy, Angela decided that she had better take a chance with her own destiny. Rightly or wrongly she reasoned, if she gave him whatever he wanted she might have a chance of staying alive. All she had to do was to stay calm and keep him under control. She shuddered at the thought of him losing it especially with that knife, whilst telling herself this was one of the hazards of the trade. As they came to the edge of the platform, she tried to turn to him saying, “Look here friend, I’m on the game you know so, if it is a jump you’re after, it’s no big deal. I can promise you that I’ll give you a bloody good time and say no more about it. He didn’t speak to her in reply. Instead, he pushed her down the path at the side of the track where the inky blackness of the night swallowed them up. In the woods beyond a night owl hooted and Angela Clarkson began to hope and pray that she would get out of this alive. They reached the disused bridge, which they skirted and he guided her down a path to the right of it. It was here that he told her to stop. They were only thirty yards from the Old Chester Road, and almost opposite the place where he had lain in wait for his first victim. “Take your clothes off and turn around,” he ordered. Nervously, she began to comply. He saw her clothes falling to the ground, until she was naked, facing away from him. Her body stiffened as she sensed him getting closer to her and, when he placed one of his hands on her buttocks she flinched involuntarily. Whether or not it was because she touched him, she never knew but without any warning, her tights were around her neck and she was desperately fighting for breath and her life. Unable to breath, she sank slowly to her knees then she felt his knee in her back, forcing her head into the ground. Her face sank into the soft black soil causing her to vomit and retch violently as she took her last breath on earth. Angela died a horrible death and she didn’t die easily. In his highly emotional state, he found himself ejaculating. As he relaxed his grip he began to smile. All the tension was leaving his body and he started to regain control of himself. Just as he had done with his first victim, he began to fondle her breasts before telling himself that he had to stick to his plan. He adjusted his own dress and pulled the dead woman’s blouse over her head covering her breasts and the top half of her body. Leaving the macabre scene, he returned to his car, which he had parked nearby. Upon his return, he parked the vehicle as close to the opening as possible. Resuming his task, he moved the lifeless body to within a couple of feet of the car, then, he lifted the inert frame, and placed the body in the passenger seat. He reasoned that if by chance anyone saw them, they would automatically assume she was drunk or asleep. Again, leaving nothing to chance, he positioned the seat belt around her. Gathering up all her belongings which he placed in the boot, he seated himself behind the wheel, and, before moving off he satisfied himself that all was well. He turned to the body beside him saying, “alright love, let me take you home.” As the car moved forward her head rolled onto his shoulder. He thought this highly amusing, and he began to smile. It was a smile of sweet satisfaction at a job well done, well almost. In no time at all they were at the extreme edge of the car park.
During the short journey he hadn’t seen a soul and now, in the pitch black of the night, he had the place to himself and the lifeless body. He switched off the lights and waited a few minutes whilst his eyes grew accustomed to the dark. Then it was time to go. Time to finish off his grim night’s work. He manoeuvred her legs out of the car, and placed her cold hands upon his shoulders then, with a swift lift, and an imperceptible grunt, she was on his shoulder and he made his way to the ditch. Her body was getting colder and it actually felt heavier but it hardly mattered as he reached the designated spot. He let her body slide into the ditch, and in a final macabre gesture, he lifted her blouse to expose her breasts. Even in death he was not prepared to afford her any dignity at all. After collecting all of her clothes, he returned with them to the ditch where he threw them beside the stiffening corpse. He rifled through her handbag, pocketing all the money and two plastic sachets that he assumed would contain drugs. “Great,” he murmured as he stood up to go. “Absolutely great, sort this one out you clever bloody coppers.”