The Mini Countryman by Harcourt Tendhall
11 December 2020 { Crime/Thriller }
I can’t believe it’s still here, after all this time, and one of the tyres is still up. I loved this old car, before it happened, but I couldn’t come back and drive it again.
This case stuck with me. It would, being my first murder case, and an horrific one at that. Back then, I was a DS; only been in CID for a few weeks and I was partnering DI Matt Johnson. He was treating me okay, but it still felt like I was hanging onto his shirt tails and was only useful as a gofer. I guess that’s all I was good for since I was still learning the ropes in CID.
I remember the first crime scene I ever attended; it was very similar to this one. We arrived one night, just coming up to midnight. It had been called in by a young couple who had driven down the track, looking for a quiet spot for a bit of nookie. It was a nasty one. The body was half in–half out of the car, blood everywhere. She’d been cut to shreds. Her face was a real mess; unrecognisable, but I guess that was the point, as her hands were missing as well. He’d made no attempt to clean up or hide anything, seemingly just walked away. Along with her hands, he’d taken the number plates off the car.
SOCO combed the scene, the car, the body, but found nothing. Not a shred of evidence about him or her, but the M. O. was all his, just like the last one. The car turned out to be hers, so no lead there, other than giving us her I/D. The number plates were found in a nearby brook. It was swollen from recent heavy rain, so the hands were carried four miles downstream. What was left of them was found by a dog walker, well, by the dog actually. Despite the effects of the river and the attentions of the dog, we managed to get her fingerprints, which matched the only ones we found in the car.
She had been the second victim, but I hadn’t seen the first one. After we confirmed who she was, we found the link with our first victim. They were on blind dates, having both placed ads in the lonely-hearts column of the local newspaper. On both occasions, the victims had left notes in their desk diaries about where and when they were meeting their date. Both had met in a public place. The first a busy restaurant, the second a popular pub. Even so, we found no witnesses who could describe the man either of our victims had met.
We started profiling him from that point. Matt was extremely careful to look at every detail we could find about the girls, so we could look for similarities that our killer might look for. Size, shape, style of dress, even hairstyles as well as interests and hobbies were all meticulously catalogued as we began to build a picture of what attracted our killer to these girls. Obviously, the first thing we checked out was the wording of the two ads, but there didn’t seem to be anything to go off there. Of course, he could have easily met with a dozen other girls, who he didn’t decide to kill, or who were too careful to be lured to a lonely spot.
That was another avenue Matt got me working on. As the only female on the team, he charged me with ringing all the girls in the lonely-hearts column of that newspaper over the two weeks previous to each of the killings. We were looking for a charmer, who had attempted to persuade the girls to go with him, or take him, somewhere private. This bore more fruit than we were expecting, as it appeared that most men at least alluded to taking things further on the first night. Once we’d eliminated those who had started a relationship and those men who had given their land line as a contact, all of which had good alibis, we were left with those who had only given a mobile number and first name. With the mobile networks being what they were back then, this proved to be insufficient information to trace them.
By ringing each of the numbers, we were able to eliminate most of them, but one number remained unavailable. He had given his first name as Johnny. He had dated two of the girls, both of whom had been cautious. They’d described him as a charmer, wanting to go somewhere ‘more private’ and very much at ease and seemingly open in his conversation and body language. Both girls had, however, felt that there was something not right about him. They both described him as five feet ten, dark hair, clean shaven and having a fair complexion. They both said he was articulate and had a neutral accent. We took this to mean he was a local but reasonably well educated, possibly having gone to a local grammar school. They both gave us artist’s impressions, but they were quite different.
He’d had sex with each of his victims but used a condom to avoid leaving any DNA. It was impossible to tell when the violence had started, but it had been extreme. Matt was keen to establish this, as it would tell us so much more about the killer, but the post-mortems couldn’t help in establishing this.
It was at this point he made a mistake. He took a third victim, same M. O. as before, but this time, his condom must have split, so we recovered his DNA.
We were building a picture of him but needed a suspect. That’s when Matt sat me down and asked for my help. Oh, God! I knew what he was going to ask before he said it. I had been mulling over the idea myself, so when he did, I had already made my mind up and said, ‘Yes’ without hesitation. The way I looked at it, he’d have to ask every WPC at the station if I said no, and I’d never forgive myself if anything happened to one of them. It was my case, my responsibility, not theirs.
* * *
We met in The Crown at 7.30 p.m. Johnny was on time and I recognised him as soon as he walked through the door. He matched the artist’s impression Sally gave fairly closely. I gave her a silent ‘thank you’. He was, as predicted, a charmer, showing great interest in everything I said, but giving vague answers about himself. Well-dressed, he was good; holding eye contact, smiling, laughing in the right places and seemed totally at ease. I now understood how he was able to lure his victims. I found myself thinking it was a good job I hadn’t just met him casually one evening, I could easily have fallen for his charm and smooth lines, but not tonight. There were four coppers in the bar and two more, including Matt, were in two cars outside, ready to follow us when we inevitably left the pub.
We did, at about 10.30 p.m. Two of our lads left immediately in front of me, heading for a third car. We took my car, and he suggested the wood on the nearby heath. I knew it well. We’d wired my car, so Matt knew where we were heading and shot off in front of us to find a spot to hide. I cursed the ‘mad driver’ who’d just overtaken me, and Johnny empathised, still seeming relaxed. I checked and the others were following, a safe distance behind. When I pulled off the road into the wood, they drove past, as planned. Johnny glanced back and saw them go by.
I bumped along the track towards the clearing.
Johnny said, ‘This looks a nice spot.’ He looked behind again and said, ‘We’re out of view of the road, so we’ll know if someone drives down here. We’ll see their headlights before they see us, why don’t you just pull to one side in the clearing?’
‘Okay,’ I replied and did so.
He was a good kisser but soon began groping me.
I pushed back from him and said, ‘No, Johnny. I’m having second thoughts now. I hardly know you and maybe it’s a bit too soon for this.’
‘Come on now,’ he replied. ‘You’ve already got me going, don’t be a prick-teaser.’
I pushed him off again and said, ‘No, stop. I don’t want this.’
He slapped me hard and said, ‘You’ll do what your told, bitch.’
The passenger door opened, and Matt dragged him out, rolled him over, cuffed him, and read him his rights.
‘Are you okay?’ he asked.
Rubbing my cheek, I said, ‘I am now. Not a moment too soon, Matt, thanks.’
* * *
The rest of the case came together smoothly. We matched the DNA sample from the third victim to his. I was the key witness, along with the tape of events in my car. He had no plausible alibi for any of the three previous occasions, so we had him. The court case was straightforward, and he was sent down for life, with a minimum of twenty years.
So why am I here, telling you all this now?
He gets out tomorrow.
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