Peter Turnbull: Aftermath

‘Four of them. . Dublin, across to Galway, then back via Cork and Waterford. . well, not those places but little towns just outside them.’

‘Never pulled that stunt in the UK.’

‘Didn’t, did we. . that’s because we hit on the idea of targeting alcoholics. . but. . Ireland. .’ Malpass smiled at the memory. ‘That was a pleasant little jaunt indeed. Most enjoyable. And that was a pleasant and enjoyable cup of coffee.’

‘Thank you.’

‘I’ll go and fill up the car. . check the oil.’

‘And I’ll wash up. . leave everything just so.’

‘Yes. .’ Ronald Malpass glanced at this watch. ‘Time is perhaps beginning to press a little. . we must not leave it too late to make good our departure.’

‘No. .’

‘So I’ll leave the front garden unwatered. Get straight off when I return.’

‘After sitting in silence for a minute or two?’

‘Yes.’ He held eye contact with her and nodded slowly. ‘Yes, we’ll do that. . we’ll do that.’

Wednesday 10.50 hours

Hennessey and Yellich sat in Hennessey’s office in silence. Yellich glanced casually out of the small window towards the city walls and at the extended group of tourists thereon, who were enjoying a brief respite from the rain and also a period of sunlight created by a gap in the unseasonal cloud cover. Yellich watched as the tourists walked, having stretched into a linear group, ambling, looking to their left and right, bedecked with cameras, unlike the locals, who walk the walls singly, often with an air of hurried determination, staring straight ahead. Beyond the walls, over the rooftops, Yellich saw the upper parts of the three square towers of the Minster gleaming in the unexpected sunlight, with the heads of the tourists clearly seen atop the southern tower, all safely hemmed in with suicide-proof wire netting, despite the fact that no one in the thousand year history of the Minster has ever deliberately flung themselves from its height to their death. But this, Yellich reflected, was the early twenty-first century, and health and safety issues rule, as does fear of litigation, and the two, he saw as being interlinked. Yellich often thought, when beset with cynicism, that the issue was not so much the safety of the individual, but the safety of the organization concerned from legal action being raised against it. He turned his gaze to George Hennessey. ‘You’re quiet, skipper,’ he said, smiling.

‘Yes, yes. .’ Hennessey replied, forcing a smile as he was pulled back to the here and now from deep and distant thoughts. ‘I was worried. . confess I still am. .’

‘Worried, boss? Why. .?’ Yellich leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees with his hands clasped together. ‘We’ll lift them. . there’s nowhere they can go. . even if they make a run for it they can’t hide anywhere.’

‘Yes, I know. . I know. . but it’s not that. . I don’t think they will even attempt to run. . it’s not that at all. . I am worried about the number of victims that they have taken. . the old tip of iceberg. . there’s always more than we know. .’

‘Yes. . for sure. .’

‘So, just as more people went into Cromwell Street in Gloucester than have been determined, just as the Yorkshire Ripper would likely have taken more victims that the thirteen he was prosecuted for, even if they were not all fatally injured, and just as Hindley and Brady were in all possibility linked to the disappearance of other children who went missing at the time, but outside the Greater Manchester area. . so they were not seen as relevant. .’

‘You think that’s a possibility, sir?’

‘Yes. Why not. . they had transport. . they could have got up to Newcastle or Glasgow very easily. . come to this neck of the woods or through to Hull. . down to Birmingham. . but children from those areas who disappeared were not linked to them because at the time Greater Manchester Police were not looking outside their administrative area. . but now we know serial killers roam far and wide.’

‘See what you mean, boss.’

‘It’s not the tip of the iceberg in that I am sure we know of the substantial number of the Malpass’s victims. . but there’s always one or two or three more. . and that’s one or two or three victims who won’t get justice. . or one or two or three families that won’t get closure.’

‘We still have to chat to them, boss. . they might confess to others.’

‘Yes. . yes.’ Hennessey nodded. ‘Good point. . they might tell us more than we already know. Might. I still feel that we have to hope that one turns on the other. . but if they both go N.G., as my son would say, then the CPS still has an uphill battle. Being photographed standing over the grave of a victim, Hindley-like, is not proof of murder — not in itself — and, yes, we have the other photographs, and, yes, we have witness statements, but a defence counsel with fire in his belly could make a jury reluctant to convict. In Scotland it could even invite a “not proven” verdict.’

‘Yes. . I see your concern, sir.’

‘When this case comes to court it will be the trial of the most prolific pair of serial killers ever known in the UK. . but, like I said yesterday, unless one rolls over on the other it’s going to be a similar case to Regina versus Allit. . a case wherein the accumulation of circumstantial evidence becomes sufficient to convict. . being the most difficult to prosecute and being the easiest to defend. But as you say. . we have still to chat with them.’

The phone on Hennessey’s desk warbled. He let it ring twice before picking it up. ‘Hennessey. .’ he said, then fell silent as he listened. ‘All right. Thank you. We’ll be there directly.’ He glanced at Yellich. ‘They’re ready now. . vans. . sergeant. . four constables, scene of crime officers. . just requires you and me to make up the arrest squad.’

George Hennessey strode determinedly up the drive of the Malpass’s home in Hutton Cranswick. Yellich strode equally determinedly behind him, and following Yellich was a uniformed sergeant and two male and two female constables. Hennessey struck the front door of the house thrice with his open palm and shouted, ‘Police! Open the door.’ He then rang the door bell continuously, insistently.

There was no reply. There was no sound, nor any form of response from within. Hennessey turned and noticed a youthful tee shirt wearing couple stop and stare at the activity from the other side of the street. Beyond the couple were neatly kept houses, and beyond that, flat fields leading to a flat skyline, all under a grey, short-lived, cloudy sky. He found a brief moment to concede that police activity of that nature was not an everyday occurrence in Hutton Cranswick. He turned to Yellich. ‘Take a constable and go round the back, please.’ He banged on the door again. There was still no response. Hennessey stepped back from the door and nodded to the constable holding the ram. ‘Put it in,’ he said quietly.

The police constable stepped forwards swinging the ram backwards as he did so, and when close to the door swung it forwards as close to the lock as he could manage, and succeeded in bursting the door open at the first attempt. He stepped back allowing Hennessey and the sergeant and the three remaining constables to enter the house. Hennessey leading the way shouted, ‘Police. . police!’

The interior of the house was still and quiet. The house was, he saw, neatly kept with just a gentle whiff of air freshener mingled with the soft odour of furniture polish.

‘Right,’ Hennessey turned to the constables, ‘search the house. . every cupboard. . every loft space. . everywhere a human body can be concealed. . you know the drill.’ Then he walked from the hallway to the kitchen and unlocked the back door using the key that had been conveniently allowed to remain in the lock.