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“Ok, what have we got?”
Thurstan hung up his coat and accepted a steaming mug of coffee. Standing on a cold Liverpool street in the early hours of the morning was beginning to lose its attraction. Though he’d returned home to shower and change, he looked tired.
“We’ve viewed the CCTV,” Lizzie replied. “I’ve got a copy here, and we’ve taken the victim’s and witnesses’ statements.
Thurstan squeezed himself between his seat and his desk and put the mug down on a coaster. His PC had already been turned on, so he entered his password and slid the disc into the machine. “Where’s Derek?” he enquired.
“He’s got his promotion board this morning, Boss, but he’s briefed me. I’ve seen the footage and read the statements.” Lizzie gave him her ‘don’t panic, I’m on top of it’ smile.
He rubbed his face and eyes. “Damn! I’d forgotten about that.”
Pretty sure he was being short-changed by his shower gel, which promised he’d feel ‘refreshed and invigorated’, he swivelled his monitor so Lizzie could view it with him. The screen flashed into life as the compilation of images from three different cameras showed the victim, her assailant, and the murder suspect’s approach to and into the alley.
“As you can see, Boss, it’s not great footage. Too distant for the most part, other than the building opposite and even that’s not what we’d hope for. It’s from their reception area, the angle and glass doors make it difficult to see clearly. You can make out the figures and some detail, like that distinctive pattern on his pants, but not the stuff that matters like the face.”
They sat in silence as they watched, Thurstan sipping his coffee.
Eventually, Lizzie said: “There’s a fair gap here where nothing happens. It’s around ten minutes before you see them coming out again.”
Thurstan nodded, picked up the statements and began to speed read them, bypassing the usual introductory personal information. Between sips of coffee, he occasionally glanced at the monitor. Lizzie got up. “Just getting myself a drink,” she explained and left.
As she walked back into the office with her cup of tea she glanced at her watch and said: “It’ll be coming up soon, Boss.”
Thurstan put the statements down, took another sip of coffee, and rested his elbows on the desk. He watched the victim and her ‘rescuer’ emerge from the depths of the alley. They walked to the steps of a building slightly further up the main street where he sat her down before calling and waving to someone, unseen, back towards where they had just come from. Seconds later, a couple, a man and woman, entered into shot. After a short conversation, the female sat next to the victim, putting her arm around her. The male took out his phone to make the call for assistance which the Police Control Room had recorded. The ‘rescuer’ appeared to say something to the male then walked back into the alley where he disappeared from view. From the statement he’d just read, Thurstan knew the ‘rescuer’ told the male he was going to find the victim’s handbag, which she was asking for, and he’d be back soon. On the CCTV footage looking into the alley, several small flashes of light could be periodically seen in the two minutes it took for the first Police patrol to arrive.
Thurstan didn’t need to see anymore. He knew, from the first Officers to search the alley, what they had and hadn’t found. They had found a man lying dead, a bloodstained knife, a woman’s handbag and four empty cartridge cases. They’d not found the ‘mystery rescuer and chief murder suspect’. It mattered not. Thurstan was fairly certain he knew who he was dealing with.