Snow Kills (16 page)

‘Go on,’ Dylan said, taking a sip.

‘I’ve met some weirdos in my time, but it wouldn’t surprise me if this one knows something about Kayleigh’s disappearance.’

‘He’s nowhere near as stupid as he makes out either,’ said Ned,

‘And he dresses up in women’s clothes and wears his mother’s leg irons, which by the way, he says excites him,’ Vicky said, lips pursed.

‘He’s what I believe they call a calliper devotee,’ Ned said.

Dylan bit on his lower lip, ‘Slow down, let’s start again. Vicky, set the scene, then you can add your two penn’orth Ned. Describe this character to me.’

‘I wouldn’t even wear my mum’s clothes,’ said Vicky. ‘never mind him! Get this, he even wears her bloody wig. He answered the door wearing the whole regalia and at first he told us he was her ... but the Adam’s apple gives it away for me every time.’ She leaned forward and half cupped her hand around her mouth. ‘Then the hairy arms and big feet; not sure he realised it though boss,’ she winked, jerking her thumb over her shoulder towards Ned. ‘Good job ‘Nelly’ wasn’t in a night club when you’d had a few Ned, eh?’

‘Clever sod. The lighting was poor and some women have Adam’s apples.’

‘Get away! None, I know of and not as big as his is,’ Vicky said.

‘Maybe you should have yours removed? They house the vocal cords, in case you didn’t know,’ he said. ‘Go on, tell him about the leg irons,’ Ned said.

‘Okay, so, we establish that N Regan is actually Norris Regan, who is the only occupant and owner of the property. His mum Nelly is dead and he wears her clothes and wig because...’

Ned couldn’t hold back, ‘Because they turn him on,’ he said.

Dylan sat in stunned silence. ‘Well, it’s not often I’m stuck for words...’

‘The leg irons are the old fashioned heavy kind with metal leg braces that come up to just above the knee. He’s a masochist. They must be so bloody painful to wear. He’s talking, but didn’t like Ned’s aggressive tact,’ Vicky scowled over at her partner.

‘He annoyed me.’

‘He frightens you.’

‘I shouted at him to get a reaction and he threw himself down on the floor and told Vicky that I’d thumped him.’

‘Tell me you didn’t?’ said Dylan, with a grimace.

‘It was very tempting. But no, I didn’t. The wall in his bedroom is covered with pictures of him and his mum and calliper clad Anothers and there’s a great pile of calliper devotee type literature at the side of his bed.’

‘Well that’s a new one on me. Makes a change from the plastic sheet brigade, or the shoe fetish lot,’ said Dylan, raising an eyebrow. ‘So let’s get down to the nitty gritty. Did he see Kayleigh? Was she there?’

‘At first he denied going out on White Wednesday, but when we pushed him he admits to shovelling away the snow on his path and having the intention of offering hot drinks to stranded drivers, but he tells us he saw two guys who he thought may have been drunk banging on a car and shouting not far from his house, which put him off,’ Vicky said.

‘And he didn’t report the incident to us?’

‘No, I asked him why and he said his phone wasn’t working.’

‘Do we believe him?’ Ned added, smacking his lips. ‘Nope!’

‘One thing is for sure is he’s agitated one minute and gives us the silent treatment the next. There’s more to him than meets the eye, I’m sure of that, and it’s not just his weird sexual habits,’ Vicky said.

‘He lived in that house for years, just him and his mum... His mother must have been almost bedridden before she died. She even had the bell on the bed headboard to call him, and it’s still there.’

‘A bell?’ Dylan said.

‘Yes, an old bike bell,’ Ned said.

‘We weren’t gonna get any more from him today. He told us he was fed up of talking to us, which became more apparent when we asked about White Wednesday and him seeing Kayleigh, so we decided to come away and seek your views as to where to go from here,’ said Vicky.

‘I think we should have him in, boss. I’m certain he knows more than he’s telling us,’ Ned said, licking his lips.

‘I appreciate your enthusiasm, but on what grounds, that he’s weird? What evidence have you got? Give him a solicitor and he won’t speak a word to us. Get Andy to seize the bell.’

‘The bell?’ said Vicky. ‘Why?’

‘Because it’s a simple request that might be all that is needed for him to agree to let us have it at this stage.’

‘But, there were no identifying marks on it as far as I could see,’ said Ned. ‘It is just an old bike bell.’

‘Just do it. Yes, I agree, we need to talk to him more. Will they finish the search today, do you think?’

‘You’re joking. They still have a jungle of a garden to search. I’d think it’d take them at least a couple of days to do it justice,’ said Vicky.

‘He’s consenting to the search then?’ said Dylan.

‘Yeah, he seems quite happy to have the search team there. Doesn’t seem bothered about them at all. But let’s face it, he’s had plenty of chance to get rid of ought if he wanted to, hasn’t he?’ Vicky said.

‘Right, so for now we continue to do everything with his consent. If that changes, we’ll need to get a warrant. I want more research done on him to try put him in or out of the frame once and for all. After all, his property is the nearest dwelling to where Kayleigh’s car was parked. We also need to identify the two drinkers who were seen banging on that car. If they exist, that is. I’ll give the press office a push to put a fresh appeal for witnesses out and in the meantime keep Andy up to speed with our decision regarding the search. Anything else?’

 ‘Nope, Ned wanted to hoist him, but like you say on what grounds? I guess there is always theft of his mother’s leg irons? Let’s face it, we’ve not got anything else on him.’

‘A spell in a cell might get some straight talking out of him. I have a feeling about the weird bastard. He’s been hiding behind the charade of being his own mother, so what else is he capable of lying about or covering up besides his weird fetish?’

‘Hey Ned, dial it back,’ said Vicky. Ned glared at her.

‘She’s right mate, patience. Find some evidence, or at least show me something that proves his story isn’t true. Then you might get your wish. Remember the old bull young bull...’ Dylan smiled.

Vicky and Ned looked at each other. ‘You’ve lost us,’ Vicky said.

‘Have you never heard that saying before about the old bull and the young bull looking at a field full of cows? The young bull says, ‘let’s run down there and shag one of those cows.’ The wise old bull winked at the young bull. ‘Let’s walk down and shag ’em all’’,’ Dylan heartily laughed at his own joke. Ned’s face softened and he smiled.

‘You’re so funny,’ Vicky said sliding off her chair. Ned stood a broad grin on his face. ‘I like that.’ He walked out of the office mumbling the words of the joke and laughing to himself.

‘If you didn’t laugh you’d cry Vicky, you should have learnt that by now,’ Dylan said. She sauntered back into the CID office. Dylan picked up the phone still chuckling and rang Jen to tell her he was on his way home. Just when he thought nothing could surprise him any more, he was proved wrong. ‘Never assume,’ he said quietly. Wasn’t this what he loved about his job, the unexpected, the unforeseen and the unknown? Jen would be amazed at this latest revelation, she’d had her eyes opened since she had met Dylan and he hoped she learned a thing or two and was a lot less trusting of people these days.

Norris Regan was certainly of interest to the enquiry, and to Dylan.

Dylan was in the station early next morning. DI Turner and his team were already busy working away. He raised his hand in acknowledgement, ‘Morning lads,’ he called. ‘Alright?’

‘Moving forward somewhen,’ said Shaun Turner. ‘Once we’ve got the swabbing done, we should be wrapped up.’

‘Somewhen?’ said Dylan. Somewhen? An Isle of Wight-ism if ever he heard one, a word Jen still used often. He turned into his office and switched on the fluorescent light to be faced again by the mountain of boxes he’d asked Trevor to fetch. He chortled to himself. What was he thinking when he had asked him to bring ALL the files and exhibits appertaining to the missing Tina Walker? Trevor stood behind him. ‘Ah, Just the man,’ he said.

‘Been told they want moving back.’ Trevor huffed and puffed.

‘Yes well, the files need to go to the HOLMES indexers,’ Dylan said sheepishly, taking off his jacket and putting it on the back of his chair. He helped Trevor to lift the boxes from his desk onto the trolley. Once clear, he unpacked his briefcase and set his fruit in his drawer before turning on his computer. He raised his head suddenly as Trevor banged his trolley blindly into the door frame. Dylan looked through the window to see if he could catch Lisa’s attention to guide him out but caught Shaun Turner, not for the first time, staring in at him very oddly. It gave him a prickling at the base of his neck. Shaun picked up the phone and swivelled his chair round, deliberately it seemed, so that his back was to Dylan.

Nonplussed, Dylan scanned the detailed information on the incidents that had occurred within the Force in the past twenty four hours, before starting on his in box.

Vicky breezed into his office with a brew in her hand, ‘Morning boss, little Maisy waking you up these days or are you just an early riser?’ she said with one of her cheeky grins.

‘Good job you brought me a drink lady, otherwise I’d have bollocked you for suggestive remarks,’ he said, not taking his eyes from the computer screen. He raised an eyebrow but showed no other sign of emotion.

‘Now you tell me. A severe reprimand from you sounds like a good start to the day to me,’ she purred at the menacing look being thrown her way. Vicky winked at Dylan and turned on her heels. Dylan couldn’t help but smile in her wake. ‘Tell whoever asked Trevor to remove the boxes back to store thanks, will you?’

‘It was me.’

‘Thanks,’ he said flatly. ‘Vicky?’ he called.

‘Yes.’

‘What do you think about Regan?’ he said.

She stopped and walked back to stand in the doorway. ‘I wouldn’t trust him as far as I could throw him.’

‘In your opinion, is he our man?’

She pondered.

‘Don’t sit on the fence. Has he seen Kayleigh off, do you think?’

Dylan knew the likelihood of finding the young hairdresser alive had diminished.

‘Honestly?’ she said. ‘I’ve no idea.’

‘Stop behaving like a bloody politician. It’s me you’re talking to. Answer the question, is he, or could he be, in your opinion, a murderer?’

‘He lives in his own little world.’ Vicky bit her lip. ‘Let’s just say years ago they’d have hung, drawn and quartered him on his appearance alone.’ She stopped, brought her hand to her chin and rubbed it thoughtfully. ‘I think he’s capable of something, but what I don’t know...’

‘So is that a Yes?’

‘A definite maybe.’

‘All we need now is a motive and evidence.’ Dylan groaned loudly, put his head in his hands and scratched his scalp with his fingertips.

‘What do you always tell us? If the evidence is there then we’ll find it. I’m going over to his house later. Andy is over there now with the search team and Ned’s on his way.’

Dylan turned to face her. ‘Good, let’s put him in or out of the frame once and for all today if we can. Do we know what happened to his mother? If they’ve lived there for a long time they’d have been about when Tina Walker went missing, wouldn’t they?’

‘And that bike bell? I’ve known people have all sorts of stuff on their bedposts, but, that’s a strange one.’

‘I think so too,’ Dylan said.

‘You’ll be telling me you wear cycle clips over your P J bottoms next.’

‘Pyjamas?’ he said with a cock of his head. ‘What’s them then?’

‘Way too much information,’ she said as she left his office.

Dylan looked at the carpet. From the door to his desk was a trail of mud. He looked down at his shoes, no doubt from taking Max out for his morning walk. He’d made an extra effort to get up earlier and take the dog out since the arrival of Maisy. Poor Max hadn’t been getting as many walks as he used to, but it seemed that he and Jen were now getting slowly but surely back into a routine and the dog wasn’t getting any younger so he didn’t need as much exercise as he used to. Dylan was wiping dirt from his shoes with a tissue when Vicky stuck her head around the door, she looked at him oddly.

‘I know we deal with some shit boss, but it hasn’t got that deep has it?’ she grimaced.

‘Just letting you know uniform have locked up Donny Longbottom this morning for an indecent assault on a sixteen year old girl, so I’m just going to find out what the score is.’

‘The would be Teddy boy who has the hots for Kayleigh?’ said Dylan.

‘That’s one and the same.’

‘Another that we need to put in or out of the frame. So what’re you waiting for?’ Dylan growled.

‘I’m gone,’ Vicky called, as she vanished into the bowels of the CID office.

There was no time to spare, this needed to go onto HOLMES immediately. The computerised major crime system would help him, as the SIO, direct and control the course of the enquiry. The information that was coming in needed cross-referencing and the last thing he wanted to do was miss or overlook anything of importance. The success of any major investigation requires an organised and methodical approach and the Major Incident Room (MIR) is central to any enquiry. It is where all the information is gathered from members of the public, enquiry officers and any other available source. This information is documented and managed, using a set of proven administrative procedures. Was it only twenty years since UK Police Forces starting using it? ‘How on earth did Razor Sharpe and the likes manage without it?’ he thought as he picked up his phone.

‘Custody Officer, please,’ he said, with authority.

‘Speaking.’

‘Jack Dylan. Can you ask the officers dealing with Longbottom to liaise with me about the circumstances of his arrest please?’

‘Of course, sir,’ said the Sergeant.

Dylan picked up his mobile and distractedly turned it around in his hand. He texted Jen.