Chapter 12 Chapter Eleven

Although Mimi's emotional accusations against Aklan prove that Aklan's claims are true, the police are in no rush to release him.It was several hours before his clothes, boots and purse were returned.He spent much of that time in wordless silence, offering few details about his military service, refusing a lawyer for him and allowing police to search his home. His clothes were meticulously examined for blood, his apartment was turned upside down and ashes from the garden were retrieved and sifted through for traces other than paper and cardboard. "Mimi" (Sharon Carter) is questioned again, and she repeats her mean comment about Acklan, calling him a "freak."The old man next door also confirmed what she said at various points in time, and then published some of his own harsh words against Mimi.

When the Forensic Center called to say that Akland's jacket's right sleeve, the shirt's right cuff, and the knee area of ​​his trousers had been washed with blood, the members of the investigation team were really excited and excited. For a while, but Nick Beal, who had just had a five-minute chat with Jackson, quickly brought everyone back into the gloom. He puts a rough sketch of a man on the table, along with a written description of the man's clothes—brown leather jacket, gray cotton trousers, white cotton shirt, Caterpillar roll-top boots—Arrow Point to the jacket sleeves, shirt cuffs and pant knees where Rashid Mansour's blood samples lie nearby.

"We brought the lieutenant in with that description," Bill told Jones. "Dr. Jackson advised us not to waste our time in these marked areas." She had a nosebleed and both she and Ackland had blood splattered on them. She washed the lieutenant's jacket and trousers and sponged his coat, but these were where the stains were visible." "Damn it!" "Do you want the Forensic Center to extract blood to match Tadin's DNA?" "If it wasn't for his blood, it wouldn't mean anything," the sheriff said sullenly. "This investigation has already cost a fortune. I'm under a lot of pressure to do expensive DNA testing for no good reason. Especially ours." Still have to trawl through this man, Rashid Mansour, to rule him out."

"Unless, if Acklan did hit Walter, there might be blood splatter like last night." "That's sheer nonsense, Nick," Jones said suddenly impatiently. "The forensic center described the blood as 'washed off,' but there's no washer or dryer in Acland's apartment, and he couldn't have Time to wash hands. He has very basic things to live in." He let out a breath of despair. "This guy is a monk. He seems to lead a very simple and hard life." "Then why are we still holding on to him?" "He fits the profile of a suspect ... If the Tadin case wasn't part of this series of murders, Akland could still be involved in the first three cases."

Bill shook his head. "The timing doesn't match. According to Dr. Campbell, he has been out of London for several months. First in Iraq . . . and then in a hospital in Birmingham." Jones shook his head, "I've had a brief conversation with her. She said he had a fiancée who lived nearby and he used to visit her regularly... probably around the time Peel and Britton were killed Dr Campbell said Acland was with his fiancée when Kevin Atkins was found. She remembers discussing the murder with him." Meanwhile, Walter Tardin's small row house has turned into a major crime scene.Unlike previous murders, this attack took place in the foyer.After a preliminary analysis of the relevant evidence, the crime scene officer called Sheriff Jones to tell Sheriff Jones that there were indications at the scene that Walter had put up a valiant resistance as soon as the assailant entered.

"I know it's premature, Brian, but there's no indication that the bastard has been operating beyond the gates. Walter must have been frightened, because we think he picked up the A crutch for self-defense. We found the crutch on the carpet with a pool of blood nearby." "Walter's blood?" "Yes...probably from a wound on his head." "Is there blood on the stick?" "We didn't find out... I sent the cane in for analysis about three hours ago. If, with luck, Walter did hit the killer with the cane, we could get the killer's DNA from it. Preferably He hit hard enough to mark his assailant...it might be a detail worth releasing to the press. If someone already had doubts about their partner or co-worker, the unexplained scar might make them call us. "

"Are you sure this crutch was not the instrument used to attack Walter?" "I'm pretty sure. I've discussed it with his doctor at St Thomas' Hospital and she believes the defensive wounds on his arms and shoulders were hit by something heavier and solid...like a hammer or a baseball bat stuff like that." "And what about the notch in the wall?" "Certainly similar to the indentations we've found elsewhere - semi-circular, fairly deeply embedded in the wall stucco - but I'm guessing this was the result of a miss from the first attack, rather than rage damage after the fact ...that's why Walter had time to arm himself with a cane. It didn't have blood or skin marks on it like elsewhere...and, if it was a baseball bat, it must have been wrapped in cloth, because We found fibers."

Jones frowned into the microphone. "There are no fibers found in the stucco recesses in other houses." There was a brief silence, and the crime scene officer spoke to another man who was also at the scene before saying to Jones: "I've got to go, Brian. Look, I'll have more tomorrow. info, but right now, I can only speculate. Assuming it's the same guy who did it, then it's likely he kept the weapon in a bag and only took it out when he was ready to use it. In Walter's case, also Didn't wait for that. As soon as he realized that the old man was frightened, he started attacking - along with Bao."

"Is there enough fiber to tell us what kind of bag it is?" "I don't know, but you might be interested in what the doctor thinks. When I described the indentation to her, she suggested that it might be a glass paperweight in a sock." "is it possible?" "A paperweight is of course easier to carry around without being noticed, but judging from the injuries of the previous victims, I don't see how this thing can cause such serious injuries. The point you raised is worth thinking about, and we haven't done it in other places." Fibers have been found in a few cases...and, if taken out of a sock and without a handle, there would be no leverage of any kind. All the force would have to come from the speed of the assailant's arm."

"But it's possible." "I don't think so. Most of us, when we sweat, the glass slips off our hands...but if you're a strong lad with dry palms and steel-hard fists, I think it's possible... ..." This young man, he thought, as he introduced himself and shook Acland's hand, fit the description, with sweat-free hands and fingers like anchors. "I'm sorry for making you wait so long." He pulled out a chair and sat down. "Has anyone explained to you why?" "No." The sheriff clicked his tongue, expressing obvious condemnation to his subordinates, "My fault. I should have clearer instructions...or come here sooner. Would you like a cup of tea or something to eat?"

"No, thank you." Jones took off his coat and hung it on the arm of the chair. "What would you like me to call you? Charles or Lieutenant Ackland?" "Whatever you want. You're the police." The sheriff smiled, "You're angry, and I don't blame you, Charles. The detainees told me you've been in this room for more than five hours. By rights, you should have climbed the wall in a hurry, and you should have been eager to know What the hell happened." Akram watched him warily.Whatever the reason—perhaps because of the man's Rottweiler appearance—he questioned Jones's polite, "What good would that do me?" "It won't do any harm either. In the interrogation room, we are all quite used to facing anger... especially from innocent people..." He met the young man's eyes for a moment. "A man with infinite patience is very Rare. It makes me wonder if you know more than we've let you know. Would you say how much you know... or how much you've guessed?" Akram leaned forward and put a finger on Walter's photo, "This guy passed out on the street earlier today and was taken to the hospital. I guess whatever caused his fainting is not It would be natural, because your men stopped the traffic in order to search that way." He took a breath, "You have made up your mind that I have something to do with Tadin's fainting, whether it is because I was seen with him this morning. There was an argument, or because I got into a fight at Bell's last night, maybe both. With the help of Jackson, Daisy and Susan Campbell, you caught me when I returned to the bar and gave me Handcuffed and brought me here to answer questions." "continue." "That's all... what you have told me, plus what I have already guessed." "If you think we're investigating you, why don't you ask for a lawyer?" "That would make you feel even more suspicious." "It's not the way it should be, Charles." "No, it is. That's why I allow you to freely rummage through my house and belongings to prove that I have nothing to answer you." No wonder Susan Campbell declared that Ackland could answer questions, and Jones now understood that he fit the profile of a "counter-detection-minded" killer. "I admire your confidence." "To myself or to the police?" "Both." Ackland shook his head, "I have no confidence in the police. The inspector said I was here as a witness...but he was lying. I was arrested and brought here as a suspect, and I didn't even I don't know what crime I'm guilty of." Jones folded his hands on the table, "Do you want to complain?" "Unless you tell me you've found incriminating evidence in my purse or apartment. In that case, we'll each understand how it got there." "Are you implying that I or my men will frame you?" "Judging from the way you've treated me since I came in... yes." Jones smiled slightly. "For someone who just had a bad migraine the night before, and someone the doctor had to take special care of, you're acting very alert. Did the vertical push-ups clear your mind? Charles?" "Whether that's the case or not is my business... Also, I don't like being filmed. This is a free country, not a police state." "I'm sorry you have such prejudice against us. In our line of business, we always make more enemies than friends, but someone has to do it... It's like being a soldier, don't you think?" Ackland ignores his taunt. "I'm prejudiced against society as a whole. You're just one face in it." "Have you been arrested before?" "No." "You're also prejudiced against Muslims, I've heard... and older men." Akram didn't answer.Jones reached for a picture of Walter Tudin. "How did Mr. Tudin annoy you? He thought you were gay and teased you?" Aklan looked vaguely indignant, "This is ridiculous." "Why? What part of the perception offended you? Could an older man be gay, or could he think you were gay?" "Neither. I'm just not as obsessed with sex as you seem." The sheriff looked at the young man curiously, "You are completely a Puritan." Aklan frowned puzzled, and looked at him, "What does my opinion have to do with Mr. Tadin? He stabbed me in the back, it's as simple as that." "What interests me is, you seem antisocial, why? Have you ever been treated unfairly since you came back?" "nothing special." "So, what changed?" "Me. I feel as if I'm living in a world obsessed with trifles...and I don't see any significant point in any of them." He sounded uncomfortable, as if expressing his beliefs was something out of the ordinary . "Then what matters, Charles?" "I'm still trying to find out. I've been reading the Danish philosopher Søren Kierkegaard. He said: 'Life is not a problem to be solved, but a reality to be experienced.' This is what I have now comprehensible." "Reality can be very cruel sometimes." "It depends on how you use it." Jones nodded, "What about love?" no answer. "Have you ever loved your fiancée, Charles? I understand that she lives in the area and that you have been to her frequently in the last year. We need her name and address." A brief flash of excited anger flashed in the young man's eyes, "Who told you?" "Dr. Campbell." Jones frowned suspiciously. "Did she do something wrong? Should this information be kept secret?" Akram leaned forward and clapped his fists under the table. "Jen has nothing to do with it. I haven't seen her in months." "Nothing to do with what, Charles?" silence. "If she doesn't live close to Mr. Tardin, we won't bother her...but if she does," Jones slowed down on purpose, "we may need to see if you have any relationship with him before." What's the holiday?" "Yes or no, she won't know." "Will your parents give me her name and address? What about your regiment?" A gleam of disgust flashed in Aklan's eyes, "Her name is Jane Morley, and she lives in Apartment 1, Peabody Building, Harris Road... If this place happens to be near where Mr. It's a coincidence." He let go of his fist and pressed his palms on the table, as if about to stand up, "Why did you do this? Don't I have the right to decide who you are allowed or not to discuss my personal issues with?" The sheriff spread his hands and apologized, "If I need an independent witness to corroborate what you say, you have no right." He paused, "If you are worried that Miss Morley will say something against you, then consult A lawyer, might work in your favour." Akram tilted his head and stared at the ceiling, taking a few deep breaths through his nose. "We can take a break anytime, Charles. Perhaps you'd like to change your mind and have a cup of tea?" "It won't make any difference." That's true, Jones thought, "Mr. Tardin's poking at you, enough to annoy you enough to follow him home?" "Unless he lived in a tube station and was fast enough to sprint in front of me after I left the bank. The inspector said he passed out in the street. Another lie?" Jones did not answer the question, "The coroner found blood on your jacket, shirt and pants. Would you explain how you got the blood?" Ackram's disgust flared up again, but this time it was his anger, more articulate, that floated in the air between them. "I knew you'd plant it," he growled, "you're more corrupt than those Middle Easterners we're ordered to protect. If you gave 'em a knife, they'd stab anyone in the back, but at least they're open .” Jones rubbed his chin with the back of one hand and was silent for a moment. "Let me understand you exactly. You mean you can't have blood on your clothes unless the police put them on purpose?" "yes." "Then why did Dr. Jackson tell us that it was Rashid Mansour's nosebleed? She lied?" He saw the joints on Akram's fist turn pale. Doubt, Charles. I ask myself, what is the other man trying to hide?" "Nothing," Aclan gritted his teeth, "but at least you know what it's like to be wronged." "Do you have a baseball bat?" "No." "What about the glass paperweight?" "Everything I have is in my purse." "How much does that hold? Not a lot. For most men your age, the laptop and stereo alone would take up several kits. Where's the rest?" "If you mean things that I don't use any more, at my parents' house in Dorset. My stereo is broken, my computer is as old as a wind-up clock, I've been through age to play bingo or model airplanes." "Do you have a safe deposit box somewhere?" "No." "And friends? Is there someone to watch something for you?" "No." "I've seen your purse, Charles. Are you telling me that's all you have in the world?" "yes." "Nobody can travel this light." "I can." The young man shrugged indifferently, "One day you should try it too. When you don't carry a heavy material load, you can move forward more easily." "So, we're back in that trivia-obsessed world?" "If you like." "And, to be someone who needs to keep moving. Are you afraid that your past will catch up with you, Charles?" Aklan's lips twisted slightly, "I wouldn't want to stay in that mud ditch you're in, you look as content with your life as my father, who's been in debt on the farm for years, in the mud working in it." "Maybe he feels it's a responsibility to do it. Everyone can't ask for it. Some people need to create wealth." "That's the common perception." Jones' smile is mocking as he thinks about his debts, and his political views about personal responsibility. "But you don't agree?" Akram looked beyond him, staring into the distance, as if looking for a distant horizon, "I would not risk my life for this. It is no more moral to pursue wealth than to throw it away." "What does it make of you? A monk?" "Idiot," Ackland said slowly, turning his attention to the sheriff. "I went to war for a man like you, and it ended up like this." He touched the blindfold. "Stupid, Right?" When Inspector Bill and Detective Kahn rang Jane Morley's doorbell at 10:30 p.m., she was outraged.She sent a series of exclamations and curses over the intercom, claiming they woke her up and refusing to let them in. "How do I know you're the police?" she hissed softly. "You could be anyone." Bill said into the intercom next to the security door's glass panel, "I can see your front door from here, Miss Morley. If you open the door, I'll give you a phone number. You can ask them to describe Inspector Bill, check yes Not the man you see." "No, I have no clothes on." "I'm happy to wait for you to put something on." A man's voice came from behind, and Jen raised her voice and answered him, "No, it's just some idle bastards messing around. I'll be back in a minute." She lowered her voice again, "Listen, do me a favor and get out. she snapped. "I'm busy, all right. I'll talk to you tomorrow." Bill put one hand on the intercom and nodded to Kahn. "Check the windows," he whispered, motioning him to check a lighted glass window on the right, which was drawn and shaded.He moved his hand from the intercom. "We only need five minutes, Miss Morley. I know it's late, but it's really important. Do you have a dressing gown? We can go outside the apartment if you want." Talk." He put his hand over the walkie-talkie again as Kahn slipped back to him. "There was a half-naked Jap with her," Kahn said softly, "and he tapped his watch and clutched his wallet to remind her that he bought her time." "Five minutes, Miss Morley," Bill repeated, "that's all we need." "God!" she said angrily, "well, wait there!" The receiver on her end made a long trembling sound because it was thrown off excitedly. They watched her emerge at the door, carefully close the door behind her, and, wrapping her robes tightly around her waist, walked across the common hall.From twenty yards away, there was a hint of grace in her curvaceous figure, and the two men immediately thought of someone they knew, but as she got closer, the impression faded away.There’s nothing elegant about bloodshot eyes, smudged makeup or a swollen lower lip that suggests someone has just bitten it. She opened the door a tiny crack and tucked herself into it, preventing them from entering. "If you want to come in, you better have something better than that," she said coldly when Bill tried to introduce himself and produced his business card. Said, "At least one search warrant." Bill wondered, did she often get warrants?Bill secretly kept it in his heart, and wanted to check the file later, "We just want to ask you some questions, Miss Morley. We know that you were engaged to a man named Charles a few months ago, right?" "What if it is? What did he say about me?" She wiped the tip of her nose with the sleeve of her nightgown, "No matter what he said, it was a lie." This was not the answer Bill was expecting.As a delaying tactic, he pulls out his notebook and flips through it. "You remind me of someone," he said in a homely tone. "Where did we meet?" "Uma Thurman," she said impatiently, as if it should be obvious, "everyone thinks I'm Uma Thurman." Bill nodded, wondering if she'd realize how wild she looked, "I can see the resemblance now." "Anyway, come on, I'm freezing to death." She rubbed her arms to prove it. "Charlie always lied. I could have accused him of rape . . . and he knew it." Bill nodded again, as if he already knew about it, "When did it happen?" "The last time I saw him...before he went to Iraq. Also, when he came back, in the hospital, he tried to strangle me." Her hand wandered to the neck, "I bet he didn't tell you These." "No." "Did he tell you about the rape?" Bill shook his head. "Well then, look, you can't believe anything he says. If you want my opinion, I think his brain hurts more than his face. If you don't believe me, you can ask him Go to the psychiatrist. He knows what happened. He was there when Charlie tried to kill me." he? "What's the name of this psychiatrist?" Jane pondered the point of answering the question and changed her mind. "I don't remember. I left as fast as I could to avoid being attacked by Charlie again." She became agitated. "Look, this It's a matter of course. I haven't seen Charlie in months, and I think we should keep it that way. Now, is it over?" "Not yet, Miss Morley. What we're interested in is the amount of time you two spend together. How often does Charlie visit you?" "He comes whenever he can. He's obsessed with me." "Every weekend?" "Of course... when he's not running tanks on Salisbury Plain... or conducting military exercises in bloody Oman." "When was it? When did you get together?" She glanced over her shoulder, as if hearing something from the apartment, "Most of last year. We met at the beginning of the year, before he left for Iraq." Bill checked his notes, "Do you remember that he was in London on the two weekends of September 9th, 10th, 23rd and 24th?" "Is this a joke? I don't even remember what I was doing last week." Both cops could trust that. "Is there anything you can do to find out?" Bill asked. "No." She frowned at him. "What the hell is this? What did Charlie do?" Bill hesitated, and Kahn stepped in. "Would you mind telling us what caused you to break up?" he asked. "Is there any specific reason?" She looked at him contemptuously, "I don't like being raped very much." "I understand that, but you said that Charlie was obsessed with you...and rape suggests an unacceptable level of violence in your relationship." She began to close the door, "He is not good at controlling anger." Kahn put her hand on the glass panel of the security door, preventing her from closing it. "What did you do to make him angry?" "Nothing," she said coldly, "except denying him what he wanted." "What is it?" "Use your imagination. What do men usually want?" Kahn smiled slightly. "It depends. Most men expect to get it for free from their fiancee." Her eyes narrowed into slits. "Did he catch you with a client, Miss Morley? That made him angry?" "Get out!" She suddenly became furious, slammed the door heavily with both hands, glared at them angrily through the glass, and turned to leave. Bill watched her return to the apartment. "Brilliant!" he said sarcastically. "I flattered her and called her like a movie star and you called her a whore. How do you think she'd react?" "I don't know," Kahn said thoughtfully, "but she was very aggressive. What do you think she was on?"