Quietly Dangerous: The Life and Time of Detective Ian Stanton, #2

By Duncan Wherrett

The Life and Times continue with plenty of crash-bang.
Ian Stanton was given the nickname of "Deadly Dangerous" during police training, not as a compliment but as a sarcastic joke. In practice he does turn out to be deadly dangerous when he needs to be in his role as a police officer and detective.
Now as an Inspector, he can be just as dangerous but in a quieter way with a mystery stabbing, a black cube, powders that go bang, a hammer blow, a man lost at sea and poisons back in fashion. Then there is the saga of the rescued worm, French mothers making a statement and action from Beatrice The SuperBarbie.
The story continues with more crime, danger, bravery, deception, punishment, love, retribution, revenge, sex, humour, a little bit of fast car, some slightly stronger zen magic and a tight fluffy jumper.

75,700 words

• Language: English
• Publisher: Watchya Publishing
• Release date: Sep 26, 2021
• ISBN: 9780995779242

Book preview

In Which It’s Time For Flowers

Ian returns home from the police station and enters the house with an enormous bunch of flowers.

‘Hello petal,’ he says as he goes into the living room.

‘Hello dear,’ says Marie-Edith. She approaches him quickly then hesitates looking at the flowers.

‘I know it’s actually tomorrow and not today, but Happy Anniversary.’

‘It’s not our anniversary tomorrow. We got married last September, remember?’

Ian looks at the ceiling and makes an exaggerated sigh.

‘Think about it. What’s the month?’

‘June.’

‘And what’s the date today?’

Marie-Edith thinks for a moment. ‘The eleventh.’

‘So tomorrow is the twelfth.’

‘Oh, oh, yes, of course.’ She jumps up and down on the spot. ‘The first time we met, when you and Beatrice came to Paris for that killer. Thank you thank you,’ as she puts an arm round him and kisses him.

‘And tomorrow, Leo is taking us all out to dinner.’

‘Wonderful. I’ll put these in water for now; dinner is almost ready and you’re actually on time so it won’t get spoilt for a change – nag, nag.’

In the kitchen, she gives the flowers a temporary arrangement in a large vase.

‘Of course we will be having another anniversary in a week, so that will mean more flowers, won’t it?’

‘Another anniversary in a week? How come?’

‘The first time we had slept together and had sex. Perhaps you’ve forgotten. I remember how sore you left me.’

‘And I remember you shouting at me to push harder and harder.’

‘That is not a gallant thing to say to a lady.’

‘You are no lady, you are a demon of a sex-pot and red-hot juicy lover; definitely two of your most delightful attributes.’

‘Mmmm, all right. I think I’ll use that as the sub-heading for my website. Wouldn’t that be flabbergasterable?’

‘Be what? Where did you get that from?’

‘My creative imagination. Lay the table please,’ as she snaps her fingers at him.

Leo and Beatrice are keen on good restaurants and the following evening Leo is taking them all to a quality French restaurant with lots of warm rustic atmosphere for their anniversary dinner.

Marie-Edith comes downstairs elegantly dressed for the restaurant.

‘You look delicious,’ says Ian.

‘Oh yes, and who will be turning heads as we enter the restaurant? Beatrice as usual. She could steal the scene even dressed as an old tea-bag.’

‘Who wants on old tea-bag anyway?’ says Ian.

Meeting at the restaurant, Marie-Edith and Beatrice start by chatting away in French and are pleased to see that most of the waiters are French. Choosing the food and the wine turns into the usual craft to be expected in a French restaurant.

‘So it seems you have two anniversaries every year then, Marie-Edith?’ asks Beatrice.

‘Erm, erm, yes, two, that’s right, two.’

‘And presumably two anniversary presents?’

‘If I should be so lucky. I know what present I want for the next one. I want our prenuptial cancelled for a day.’

‘You have a prenuptial? What over your marriage?’

‘That’s right. Ian insisted.’

‘And what’s it consist of?’ asks Beatrice, drumming her fingers on the table, while looking at Ian – always an ominous sign.’

Marie-Edith narrows her eyes at Ian and says, ‘He demanded that I never never, ever, never ever never dip a slice of cake into my coffee.’

‘What!’ says Beatrice with eyes and mouth wide open in shock.

Leo laughs.

‘You are not laughing are you?’

‘No dear.’ He carries on laughing.

‘Ian, that is an attack on a French person’s cultural heritage, and an infringement of her human rights.’

‘Quite possibly,’ concedes Ian. ‘But it’s still a disgusting habit. She can do it in France, of course, if she must.’

‘Oh that’s very big of you.’ Turning back to Marie- Edith, Beatrice continues, ‘When he’s safely out at work or you’re in a café without him, then you can be sneaky.’

‘He does forensic checks. He’s caught me twice now, locked me in the cellar and I got no cuddles for a week.’

‘Domestic violence as well. Dump him and get a cat; it’s the only solution Marie-Edith. I hope you realise Ian, you can still be guillotined in France.’

‘No you can’t.’

‘I am talking about the lynch mob.’

Just then a waiter approaches the table with more food.

★  ★  ★

In Which There Are Eyes Of Blue

Next morning, Ian wanders downstairs around six o’clock and switches on his phone. There are two messages from Detective Sergeant Alfred Vockings. Alfred has been working with DI Stanton since he joined the station just over a year ago. When he left school, he started training in hotel management but after two years decided to change to police training. Alfred is 42 and is comfortable as a detective sergeant, feeling the position is just right for him.

Ian presses a button on his phone.

‘Morning sir. A killing late last night. Man hit on the head near Briar Grove; found by a passer-by. Soco did what they could but it was raining all evening and most of the night. There’s still a light drizzle here.’

‘Did they find anything useful then?’

‘No, but I’ve put out a search team early. PM later this morning. An officer has been in the wife’s house all night.

‘Right, I’ll just grab a slice of toast and a banana and come straight over. Give me the full address and I’ll meet you outside the house.’

As soon as Ian arrives, he and Sergeant Vockings walk the 200 metres to the scene of the crime, which is on a footpath connecting two roads. The footpath has street lights and high fences at the backs of gardens on one side, and on the other side of the path, shrubs, small trees and open grass. A number of police officers are searching the ground and poking into the bushes with sticks.

Sergeant Vockings explains. ‘The body was found just before 11 o’clock. David Wyatt would have been walking back from The Plough over there and approaching Briar Grove. The pathologist said there was a single blow to the head. Very hard; he would have died almost immediately. It was no robbery; he still had his wallet and expensive smart phone.’

‘Was the blow central or more to one side?’ Stanton asks.

‘More to the right.’

‘If someone came up behind him, then the attacker would be right handed, but the victim would have heard someone approaching and would be cautious in the dark and look round. It’s not like a busy street is it, where you would ignore other footsteps?’

‘Unless the attacker approached from the front and suddenly turned round as he went past.’

‘Could be.’

Just then, a constable walks up to them carrying an evidence bag with something in it. ‘It’s a regular ball hammer sir. It was in a puddle under one of the bushes.’

‘Good, although all it can do now is match up with the wound. Keep the search going until you reach that road.’ 

‘Yes sir.’

‘Right Alfred, let’s get ourselves over to the house. What’s the position there?’

‘Mrs Margaret Wyatt and a three year old son. She was informed about 11.20. WPC Anning stayed with her. Mrs Wyatt called her mother and she’s arriving this morning. And she’s going to call her best friend first thing.’

‘You spoke to her last night did you? What about his parents?’

‘They live in New Zealand. David Wyatt is from there. I’ve sent word.’

Once at the house and in the living room, Ian speaks to WPC Anning. ‘Hello, how long have you been here Anning?’

‘All night sir. I got the call just as my shift started.’

‘And Mrs Wyatt, still upstairs is she?

‘Yes, but I’ve heard her move about now.’

‘How did she react last night?’

‘No hysterics, just stunned silence.’

Mrs Wyatt is heard coming down the stairs slowly and she enters the living room, just as there’s a ring on the door bell. The Sergeant answers the door.

‘I’m Amanda Murphy, friend of Margaret’s.’ She rushes straight into the living room and there’s an emotional meeting with Mrs Wyatt.

Without being asked, WPC Anning goes into the kitchen to make tea and coffee.

‘Would you please give the Sergeant your name and address and then we’ll come back later,’ Ian says to her.

‘Mrs Wyatt, do you have some recent photographs of your husband?’ 

‘Yes, there are a couple in the album.’ She takes an photo album from the bookshelf and hands over two photographs.

‘Thank you. We’ll go now and come back later to speak to you.’

After telling WPC Anning that another officer will replace her shortly, Ian and the Sergeant leave the house.

‘Let’s get to the station and put all this together. And call DC Skelley. Get her to replace Anning. Seeing those two women together in there, something didn’t feel right. Skelley’s very sharp; tell her to get her psychotherapy cells working.’

Back at the station, DI Stanton is with the Sergeant and several detective constables going over the time-line and all the information they have so far.

‘Wouldn’t it be good to come in one morning and the only thing that happened yesterday was a little old lady just shoplifting a packet of clothes pegs from Poundland?’ says Ian.

‘Expect to win the Lottery do you sir?’

‘Perhaps not.’

Looking at the photographs of the body and surrounding area, Ian says, ‘Seeing how the body is lying does suggest he was walking towards Briar Grove. Would the killer have been able to attack from behind and not be suspected? It seems unlikely. We must try that out Sergeant and see if there’s much background noise that time of night. If the attacker approached from the front, was it just a random attack or a very carefully planned target?’

‘If he approached from the front, that suggests Wyatt didn’t recognise him,’ points out DC Clegg.

‘Yes, but that doesn’t mean the killer didn’t know Wyatt.’

‘Looking at the map, the shortest way back from The Plough pub is along that path and it seems to be considered a safe route.’

‘If it were planned, the attacker could sit in his car and watch the pub. As soon as Wyatt comes out, drive down here, park, walk a few yards along Briar Grove and meet Wyatt on the path.’

‘Paul, get a couple of dozen copies of these photographs then check out his phone records,’ says Ian. ‘Sergeant, get door-to-door organised along Briar Grove, at these houses backing on to the footpath and along here around the pub. Make sure the officers go twice to each house. There’s bound to be at least one member of each household out at work during the day. You and I will go to the pub shortly. Helena, get the spreadsheet for the house calls started and check what public CCTV there is around that area. Mark them on the map and get anything that might be vaguely useful.’

With everything in motion, Ian and the Sergeant return to the scene.

At The Plough, the publican is still a bit bleary-eyed and shocked to hear the news. Looking at a photograph of the victim he says, ‘Yes I know David; he’s a bit of a regular. Never has more than two pints. Last night he was with a couple of friends.’

‘Did you notice what time he left?’

‘No I didn’t see him go, but his two friends stayed longer. We don’t have cameras in the pub. We don’t need them; it never gets rowdy in this area.’

‘But you’ve got a camera outside.’

‘Yes, that’s normal. I’ll get you the recording.’

After leaving the pub, the two officers head for the path connecting the streets.

‘Walking at normal speed, at night along a lonely path, I can’t see anyone putting up with a stranger just a few yards behind them,’ says the Sergeant.

‘No, it’s unlikely. Or to catch up, the attacker would have to do a bit of power walking, and then you would certainly turn around to look. Unless maybe he was walking with someone he knew who suddenly turned out to be the attacker.’

‘Right sir. This is the spot, between these two lampposts, so it would be darkest here.’

‘Very convenient or well-planned. And the search team found nothing else?’

‘No, only the hammer.’

‘It would make sense to dump it in those conditions last night. It’s the best way to clean it without an extra risk of getting blood on his own clothes.’

After mulling things over for a few minutes Ian says, ‘Alfred, let’s return to the pub. I’ll walk back here at a reasonable pace. You jump in the car and drive round to Briar Grove, park and come to meet me on the path and we’ll see how it matches up.’

At the end of the reconstruction, Ian has almost got to the end of the path before the Sergeant meets him.’

‘How did it go?’ Ian asks.

‘You can’t drive fast down Darras Road. It’s not very wide and lots of parked cars. Then you’ve got to find a parking spot in Briar Grove.’

‘Then there’s more risk of someone noticing you and remembering what they saw. Maybe the door-to-doors will come up with something. Let’s go and see Mrs Wyatt.’

WDC Lucy Skelley opens the door as they’re walking up the front path.

‘Margaret Wyatt’s mother is here now sir. Her name is Mrs Rathbone.’

‘Right.’

In the living room, Mrs Wyatt is sitting on the sofa with her arm tightly around three year old Simon. Mrs Rathbone and Amanda Murphy are standing up. After introductions, Ian says, ‘We’ll need an identification soon Mrs Wyatt, probably tomorrow. We’ll do a DNA check as well.’

‘Why do you have to do that?’ says Amanda Murphy.

‘It’s routine. Does your husband have a hair brush just for himself?’

‘Yes, I’ll get it.’

‘Skelley,’ says Ian as he nods for her to follow, and Sergeant Vockings hands her an evidence bag.

When they return, he says, ‘We need to ask you a few questions Mrs Wyatt, about last night. Miss Murphy, this needs to be private if you wouldn’t mind.’

‘Oh right, okay, I should be getting to work anyway.’

After she’s left, Ian sits down. ‘Mrs Rathbone, it might be better if you could take Simon next door and keep him amused.’

‘But I want to be here with my daughter.’

‘The questions will only be basic, about last night’s routine.’

‘Oh all right then. Simon, come on love, let’s go into the kitchen and get a biscuit.’

Ian continues, ‘So what time did your husband get home?’

‘How was he killed? Was he stabbed?’

‘We have to wait for the post-mortem before we can release any details.’

‘Was he still alive when he was found?’

‘We think not. So what time did your husband get home from work?’

‘Usual time, soon after six.’

‘And how did you spend the evening?’

‘We had a cup of tea and Simon had a small drink.

David put him to bed and read a story for five, ten minutes or so. We had supper about half past seven. We cleared up then watched something for half an hour on the TV playback, The Sky at Night it was. Then he went off to the pub.’

‘What time?’

‘About a quarter to nine.’

‘Did he often go to the pub?’

‘Once a week, maybe twice, to meet someone for a chat or a game of darts. Sometimes quiz night and I might go with him.’

‘And whom did he meet last night?’

‘Whom? Gosh.’

Skelley tries to suppress a snigger.

‘Skelley, you’re fired. So his friends last night, who were they?’

‘He said Terry Patterson would be there, he lives in Park Lane, number 46, just down the road from the pub. He’s known him of years.’

‘He always walks to the pub does he?’

‘Yes, along that path. But he never drinks much. He’s never come home drunk.’

‘What time would you normally expect him back?’

‘Half ten. Even on darts or quiz night, he’s back by eleven.’

‘How has he been? Has he had any problems with someone or something. Any rows or conflicts that you know about, with friends or colleagues at work.’

‘No, not really. He’s usually quite easy going. Seems settled at work. I don’t think he’s a secret gambler with massive debts.’

‘All right, that’ll do for now. We’ll call you tomorrow about an identification and send a car.’

‘I have a car, or my mum can drive us over there.’

‘Doing an identification can be very traumatic. Best neither of you drive straight afterwards. We’ll send a plain car, not a marked police car. DC Skelley will be leaving with us and a Family Liaison Officer will be here soon. She’ll be the main contact between us. If you have any problems, here’s my card. Call me at this number or call 999, if anyone bothers you.’

Outside the house. ‘Skelley, you get back to the station. The Sergeant and I will try Terry Patterson’s house.’

After hearing the news, Mrs Patterson sits quietly and breathes heavily. ‘I’ll give my husband a call. You’ll want to speak to him as soon as possible.’ After making the call in the hall, she returns and says, ‘He’ll be here in about 40 minutes. The other man with them was Sam Liston; this is his address. He works from home, a self-employed designer.’

Interviews with both men don’t produce any useful information. The three men had chatted about nothing in particular and their conversation was calm. David Wyatt drank one and a half pints of a guest beer and left the pub around 10.30.

The next task is to go back to the station, speak to WDC Skelley and examine any CCTV.

‘Lucy, is there anything to report from your time at the Wyatt house? How were Mrs Wyatt and Amanda Murphy together?’

‘Obviously great friends. There was one moment, when they thought I wasn’t watching. It was just the smallest of looks between them. Like two women who know something which shouldn’t be mentioned.’

‘Yes, I felt the same thing at one point. What about the mother?’

‘Terribly distressed. Clearly devoted to her daughter and grandson. I didn’t detected anything out of place there.’

‘Okay, thank you.’

‘Paul, how’s that recording from the pub looking?’

‘Wyatt is here sir. Coming out of the door at 10.31, puts his hands in his coat pockets and walks across the car park in the direction of the footpath. A couple came out just before him and they went the other way. Nobody came out after him for three minutes and that was an older man with an umbrella.’

‘The initial PM report has just come through, sir,’ says Alfred Vockings. ‘A single blow mainly on the side of the head, just towards the rear right corner, in so far as heads have corners. The blow came almost horizontally and the hammer we found could easily have made the wound. A very severe blow; serious damage to the cerebrum; death almost instantaneous. No useful evidence from the hammer and it’s a basic DIY hammer in new condition. I’ll check who the stockists might be.’

‘Molly – CCTV. What have you got?

‘No cameras on any of the side streets of course. The nearest are three in the main road. I’ve marked them on the map. Any vehicle approaching from the west would have to pass at least one of them, but on the other side, a vehicle could have turned off before the camera.’

‘All right, we won’t work through them yet; we don’t know what we’re looking for.’

‘I’ve just finished collating the door-to-door reports so far, sir,’ says Helena.

‘Good, let’s have a look in my office.’

‘In fact there doesn’t seem to be a lot of any use yet, sir. No strange noises; no unusual sightings; quite a few no answers.’

‘I want all this repeated tonight, after 7 o’clock. All officers must speak to at least one adult in every house. Make sure the officers doing the interviews are scared of you, we all are here.’

‘Thank you sir.’

‘When I was a PC and DC, I had to do all these house calls. Being an old fuss-pot, I would look at all the results and find the gaps, then I’d go back. That way I helped solve a murder and two kidnappings, just by checking the parts other people had missed. So it does work.’

‘It’ll be Sergeant Forster on tonight. He’s thorough and he’ll walk around keeping an eye on things,’ says Molly.

‘Good.’

The following day, after Mrs Wyatt and her mother have completed the identification and left, Ian goes down to speak to the pathologist.

‘Will you illustrate exactly where he was hit and at what angle?’ Ian asks him.

The pathologist touches the side of his head. ‘He was hit just here, and the blow was horizontal, so it was a very strong sideways swing.’

‘A man’s blow or could a normal woman do it?’

‘Easily, a woman yes or even a weak man if angry and determined enough. You wouldn’t have to be Superman to cause such an injury. With a good swing, the hammer would have decent torque.’

‘Thank you.’

It’s mid-morning the next day before Helena has added all of the door-to-door reports from the previous night.

‘Not a lot new I’m afraid, sir. People out, watching television, saw nothing, heard nothing. But there is this. PC Bowness spoke to Mrs Jameson in Park Lane. She took her dog out for a short walk about a quarter to 10 and saw a man sitting in a car nearby. He was still there when she returned just before 10. He was white and the car dark. That’s all she could say. She’s retired so should be in during the day.

‘Well it’s something. We’ll get over there and I’ll speak to Bowness when he gets back on duty. Sergeant, come on.’

Sitting in Mrs Jameson’s living room, she explains how she normally takes her dog out for an extra short walk in the evening, regardless of the weather. Leaving her front gate and after a few yards she noticed a man sitting in the driver’s seat of his car. He was looking out of the window, down the street, she says. Mainly, he kept his face turned away and all she could say is that he was a white man. ‘Probably his hair was dark; if