Mystery: Quest for Justice: (Mystery, Suspense, Thriller, Suspense Thriller Mystery) (6 page)

"Hello," she said, looking slightly confused about what was going on.

"Hello," I replied. "I am Detective Tammy Williams. Don't worry!"

"What's this about, then?" the woman said.

"Well, I know you might be a little bit taken back by this, but I am making an enquiry into the previous owners of this house."

The woman shrugged her shoulders. "I never met them," she said.

"Well, I don't know how to break this to you," I said to her, "but there is a chance that the previous owners of this house were serial killers!"

"What?!" the woman cried. "Did you hear that, Dave?"

"What was that, Sherry?" a man asked in the background.

"This is, well, weird!" she cried.

"I know, but there is one thing I need to ask you, and it's quite important."

"Come in if you want," the woman said.

"Thank you," I replied, allowing myself in.

"So, what was it you wanted to ask me?"

"Well, I might need both of you for this," I said, feeling rather tense with the fact that the house I was sitting in possibly once belonged to psychotic murderers.

"Come here a minute, Dave," said Sherry.

"Well, I wanted to know, have any strange people come to this house?"

It did not take Sherry long to reply.

"Well, it was a few years ago now..." she started.

"Go on," I said.

"But I remember it quite clearly because it was that odd!"

"O.k."

"Well, this one time I was in the kitchen, and I heard a knock on the door. I answered, and there was this man standing there. He looked rather shell-shocked when he saw me. It was like he did not expect me to answer. I asked him who he was, and he turned his head and looked at something in the garden. I don't know what. He then nodded his head slightly. It was like there was someone else there with him, hidden away."

"Right," I said, becoming very intrigued. "Can you describe this man for me?"

"Well, not really," Sherry said. "He was just a plain man, really. There was nothing distinctive about him at all. He had sort of black and grey hair, stood about average height. That's all I can give you. I'm sorry."

I fully understood what Sherry meant. When I looked at John, I could barely remember his face when I left him, because his face was so easy to forget.

"I need to ask you one more thing," I said.

"Go on then," said Dave.

"In what year did you move to this house?"

"It was 1998," Dave replied.

"Can you give me a month?"

"It was in October."

I was relieved to hear that. Maria Doe had died in September 1998, so it was impossible that someone could have moved in and moved out within a few weeks.

Before I left the house, Sherry told me something else.

"I almost forgot!" she cried.

"What?" I asked her.

"Well, this one time I saw an old woman running around in our front garden, quite sneakily."

"Really?" I asked, even more intrigued now.

"Yes! I only saw the back of her, but she had grey hair, and she was wearing a yellow cardigan."

"Was she really?"

"I could not believe my eyes!"

"Was this before or after the other event?"

"Well, I think it was before, but I cannot be completely certain."

I smiled. "Thank you, Sherry. You have helped me out a great deal!"

"Really?" said Sherry. "Oh, and you'll tell me if these people do turn out to be the killers, won't you?"

"You'll probably see it on the news," I said, leaving.

I was very pleased with the results. I now had much more to work on and to think about.

I went to work the following morning. So far this week, I was actually enjoying my work. I knew that as each day went by, I was getting closer to solving the murders. In addition, I had never come across something as challenging as this since before I joined the team. Originally, I thought I was going to enjoy my job here at the police force, but it was not the same when there were two rival gangs in the city, and we were the ones trying to take them down. I was fortunate to get away from all that, for a while, anyway.

I was about to start work when a fairly old woman stormed into the station and headed to my work desk. Although initially I thought I had never seen her before, I did sort of remember her, perhaps from when I was driving through the housing project.

"I saw you at the estates!" the woman cried.

"Who are you?" I asked, curious about what this woman had to say.

"My name is Helen Potters, and I live right across the street from John Doe."

"Okay," I said. "And why have you come here?" I asked, getting right into it.

"I know that you're investigating John Doe for some reason."

"I am," I replied. "But for now, I can't tell you why."

"I understand that. I don't care about that", she said, in a rather pushy manner.

"What do you want to say, then? Do you have some information on John Doe that we might not have?" I asked, becoming very impatient with her.

"Yes, I do!" she cried. "And it might help to solve your case!"

"Why don't you sit down and tell me the story, then?" I asked her, not knowing if I’d heard before what she was about to say, or whether it was something completely new that would make a great deal of difference in the case.

"Well, I was out in the front garden, planting some flowers I bought, and I was talking to Laura. I know that John always goes on and on about his dead mother. Well, I know she's dead! I seen her dead myself! Anyway, when Laura left, I was the only one on the street, so nobody else saw this. After a minute or two, this car pulled around the corner. I didn't see who was driving it at first. I looked again, and I saw John get out of the passenger seat. I thought nothing of it because someone could have been giving him a lift. Suddenly, though, this old woman just got out of the car! John then linked arms with her and helped her inside! He then shut the door!"

"Right," I said. "That's very interesting."

"Well, does that help?" the woman said, quite proud of herself.

"It helps a great deal," I said, "but I need to ask you a few more questions about this."

"Go on, then."

"When did this happen?"

"Oh, it was about two weeks ago, now."

"Right," I said, fascinated by what she had just said. "And can you describe this woman to me?"

"Well, I only saw the back of her, but she had grey hair, and a yellow cardigan."

"A yellow cardigan?" I said, feeling as though it were a
eureka
moment.

"Yes," Helen simply replied.

"Last question," I said. "Can you describe the car for me?"

"Well, I didn't get the license plate, or even the make of the car! I know it was dark red, and that's pretty much all."

"Thank you for your time," I said, letting her out.

I now had more notes to go over, as usual. I then thought to myself,
do I trust this woman?
I knew she could not be making the whole thing up because two people now have said that there was an old woman with a yellow cardigan around with John. This was amazing. I now knew that someone had been dressing up as an old woman, and it wasn't John! But the question was, why? Why would someone want to do this? I knew this person was likely to be the murderer, or had had a strong role in the killings.

However, my trail of thought was disrupted, as D.I. Mitchell told me I was needed for another case, because the gang situation in the city was getting out of control. I just wanted this gang thing wrapped up forever, but it seemed to continue nonstop. I also wanted to get on with the case. I knew it was only going to be for a day. It was a shame, because I now had to focus my thoughts on the gang killings, and not on the Minot Hacker case.

When the day ended, I received a phone call from someone who I never wanted to see or speak to again: my ex-fiancée, Danny. I had not spoken to him for three months, and I was glad he was out of my life. I genuinely thought I was going to have a wonderful life with him. I genuinely thought he was the one. He betrayed me. I don't know why, but I picked up the phone.

"What is it?" I asked him, eagerly waiting for a reply down the other end of the line.

"It's Danny," he said.

"I know it's you," I said, with a rather threatening voice.

"I just called to see how you are doing," he said, for whatever reason.

"I thought I was behind you forever!"

"Tammy, the last time I saw you was when you solved the Alexandra Cross case, and I told you there and then. You just left, without really discussing it."

"What is there to discuss?" I asked, convinced I was never going to get back with him. "You were hiding the fact that I was not the one!"

"Well, you are!"

"Well, why wait for three months and then call out of the blue, eh?"

"I couldn't find the courage to talk to you," he said, his tone of voice changing to be more sad and persuasive. I imagined the puppy dog look he would pull if we were talking face to face.

"And why do you think that is?" I said sarcastically, before almost putting the phone down.

"Wait!" he cried.

"What?" I said, growing frustrated with him.

"The reason I broke up with you is because we were spending too much time apart. Why don't we give it one last shot?"

"Even if we did, I would consider my work a top priority in my life. I don't know why, but my work is very important to me."

Danny did not reply, even though I could still hear him there breathing down the phone.

"Goodbye, Danny," I said, stopping the phone call and switching the phone off.

I came out of the toilets and saw that I was not allowed to leave work for another five minutes, so I decided to just forget that phone call and talk to my colleagues about things.

"So, how are you getting on with the Minot Hacker case, then?" asked Patricia.

"Well, it's very confusing," I said.

"Do you think it was this mysterious man?" asked Graham.

"I'm not entirely sure yet," I replied. "I have reason to believe there was someone else involved."

"Why do you think that?" said Miranda, trying not to show that she was jealous of me because I was involved in the case and she was not.

"Well, John's mother is dead, but I have witnesses who claim that they saw an old woman with John on several occasions. I think there is somebody dressing up as John's mother for whatever reason."

"Why would someone want to do that?" asked Patricia.

"It sounds a little fishy to me," said Graham.

Perhaps I was taking my eye off the ball a little, or perhaps not. I went to bed that evening unable to sleep because of my train of thought. I thought about what I was going to do the next day to progress even further in the case.

The only thing I could do at this point was research the great-aunt and great-uncle of John Doe. Nothing more could be done, because every other lead I investigated came to a dead end. I just hoped that everything would soon come together and explain all of this madness. One thing was certain: I was much closer to solving the murders than anyone was a week before. That was what motivated me to work – the fact that I was getting closer and closer to solving the case. I had to admit to myself that this was the most challenging case I had ever come across, because it was just so confusing and there were so many questions that I could not yet answer.

I did not know why, but something just came over me. I began to think that Joseph and Maria Doe had some sort of criminal history, so I decided to check them for any criminal records. Astonishingly, I was right, and I found out they were both convicted of attempting to kidnap a six-year old child! I was not prepared for that. I was not prepared for anything, really. I just did not know what to expect with these people. I just sensed that there was something wrong there, and I was actually right. I read the case file further and they both served four years in prison for it, between the years of 1979 and 1983, so John was actually a child himself. I read even further, and I read one of the statements from Joseph Doe.

"We only wanted to kidnap the child because we were desperate for money. We are not paedophiles, and we should only be lightly punished for this. We were in a desperate situation, and we were not going to cause any harm to the girl. We were actually going to make her stay with us very comforting."

There was something extremely fishy about all that. If they were desperate for money, how could they afford to pay for that big house? Of course, I knew in my mind what they were planning to do to that girl, and it was fortunate that she was found just in time. Then I thought, was John subject to this abuse as a child? If so, where was his mother? Throughout my thoughts, the same thing was running through my mind: what was the bad thing that John did in that house? Who did he do it with? I was certain that it had something to do with the murder. However, I only had Monica's word on that, so if she turned out to be the killer, that would have probably been made up to mislead me. I then thought about John again. If he was subject to any kind of abuse as a young child, it could have disturbed him for the rest of his life. I then thought to myself,
what if he is actually the murderer, and nobody else is involved, and all this investigating has been a waste of time?
Then, I thought to myself,
no, this is not a waste of time.
I had some faith in Monica and John and I will do whatever it takes to prove their innocence and get justice for the families of the victims once and for all!

My next step was to interview John, yet again. This time he was sitting in the room, in the chair, with a cup of coffee in his hands.

"Hello, again," he said to me, sighing. His tone of voice was still friendly, but I could tell that he was depressed.

"Are you okay today, John?" I asked him, taking a soft approach to this.

"I'm fine. I just want to know, why do you keep wanting to talk to me? I've confessed to the murders!"

"There are still things that need wrapping up," I replied in a soft tone of voice.