Stalker

Chapter Twenty-Nine

‘But why would I want to harm Kevin Brown?’ Derek asked, perspiration glistening on his forehead. They’d been in the interview room for over an hour and seemed to be going round in circles. ‘It’s ridiculous. I wasn’t even there!’ He looked at the solicitor they’d provided, who’d advised him not to admit to anything at this stage.

‘You tell me why you wanted to harm Kevin and the others on this list,’ Beth persisted, tapping the crime sheet on the table between them. ‘The motorbike in your garage, registered to you, is the same model as the one seen leaving the area after the stabbing at U-Beat nightclub. And the man caught on CCTV running from the alleyway was wearing motorbike leathers and a helmet identical to the ones found in your wardrobe at home.’

‘Lots of bikers have them,’ Derek said.

‘Added to which,’ Beth continued, ‘the description given by the witness who saw Tom Murray run down by a motorbike matches you too.’

‘I’ve already told you I didn’t even know the guy, apart from fitting his CCTV.’

‘That’s probably sufficient,’ Matt put in, seated beside Beth; they’d decided that Beth would lead the questioning.

‘What motive did I have then?’ Derek asked. His solicitor cleared his throat as a warning not to be drawn in.

‘Revenge? Jealousy? Paranoia? I’m not sure yet,’ Beth said. ‘But I will find out. Just as I’ll find out why you kidnapped Mary Grey, held her hostage and terrorized her.’

‘I didn’t!’ Derek squealed, the tic on his eye flickering. ‘Why should I do that?’

‘The thrill of it? Power? Hatred of women?’ Beth said, holding Derek’s gaze. ‘I think you like to see women suffer. You don’t get on with your mother, do you, Derek?’

‘Who told you that?’ he demanded.

‘It’s obvious,’ Matt said, leaning forward and folding his arms on the table. ‘Your father left when you were a child and you blame her. That’s why you watch the girls at The Mermaid rather than going in person.’

‘Stuff you,’ Derek cried. ‘You’re not a bloody shrink.’

‘Charming,’ Matt said leaning back.

‘Can we move on, this isn’t really relevant,’ the solicitor put in.

‘The voodoo doll,’ Beth said, glancing at her notes. ‘You left it on Mr Khumalo’s son’s bed; I assume it was to get back at his father. What exactly had he done to you?’

‘Nothing. I didn’t. No comment.’

‘Was it intended for the child then?’ Beth asked repulsed.

‘No, of course not! It wasn’t me. I wasn’t there.’

‘The intruder knew the layout of the Khumalos’ house and grounds in detail. So well, in fact, that he knew which bedroom the child slept in. You are one of the very few people outside their family who would have had access to that information.’

‘Of course I knew the layout of their fucking house, I fitted their CCTV! Just as I did all the others on your list. It doesn’t prove I committed any of the crimes you’re accusing me of.’

‘Not by itself,’ Beth agreed. ‘But forensics lifted a lot of DNA from the doll and I’m expecting some of it to match yours.’

Derek stared at her aghast and it was some time before he said, ‘No comment.’

‘Why did you fit cameras that had in-built microphones but never told the clients they had them, apart from those at The Mermaid Massage Parlour?’

‘No comment.’

‘I’ll tell you why,’ Beth continued. ‘It was to allow you to spy on these people to gather the information you needed to commit the crimes. The circumstantial evidence is overwhelming. For example, Ron McKenzie only went out in the evening once a month and during that three-hour time slot his home was broken into and trashed. Far too much of a coincidence. A note was left that said “payback time”. What was the payback for, Derek? What had he done to you?’

‘Nothing. No comment.’

Beth took a breath but maintained eye contact. ‘Similarly, you knew when Mrs Hanks would be seeing her lover because you had been spying on them for months. You sent an email alerting Mr Hanks to his wife’s infidelity, for what reason?’

He paused, touched his eye before saying, ‘No comment.’

‘Then there is the matter of Mr and Mrs Williams’ babysitter who invited her boyfriend in when she was supposed to be babysitting. You were watching them and emailed Mr and Mrs Williams alerting them, didn’t you?’

‘Well, she was supposed to be looking after their children, for God’s sake!’ Derek cried. ‘Little Phoebe was only four.’

The silence in the room was deafening.

‘Go on,’ Beth encouraged.

‘My client is due for a break,’ his solicitor put in.

‘In ten minutes?’ Beth asked. He nodded.

‘You were saying?’ Beth prompted.

‘No comment.’

‘You’re a man with very high principles, aren’t you, Derek? And you didn’t like it that little Phoebe was neglected – perhaps it brought back unhappy memories of your childhood – so you took it upon yourself to teach their babysitter a lesson. Just like you taught Mrs Hanks, Ron McKenzie, Tom Murray, Mr Khumalo, Mary Grey and all the others on this list a lesson.’

‘Ridiculous! No comment.’

‘OK,’ Beth said, taking a different tack, ‘let’s go back seven years to the robbery at Meekers garage. You remember it?’

His solicitor nodded at Derek to answer.

‘Yes,’ he said.

‘The thief jumped the cashier at the exact moment she opened the safe to put in the day’s takings. During the police investigation, it was discovered that someone had hacked into their CCTV so they knew exactly when to strike. You were questioned at the time as your firm installed the CCTV but there wasn’t enough evidence to charge you. I think we can safely say that with what has come to light, there is now.’

‘They are two different crimes!’ Derek thundered, clenching his fists. ‘Don’t you know anything about the Internet? They were hacked. They were using the default password and someone hacked into their system. It happens all the time. I don’t hack, I know my clients’ passwords.’

‘Precisely,’ Beth said, pleased. Finally they were getting somewhere. ‘So you were able to log in and watch them when you wanted for as long as it took to gather the information you needed to commit the crime – whether it was burglary, kidnapping or GBH. Your computer is with forensics now and you know as well I do that it will prove what I’m saying is true, despite you trying to delete the files.’

Derek stared at them, the colour draining from his face, then held his head in his hands.

‘It’s time for that break now,’ his solicitor said.

Beth nodded and began gathering up the paperwork. ‘Is a quarter of an hour long enough?’

‘I would think so,’ his solicitor replied, glancing at his client.

‘I don’t want a break,’ Derek said, head still in his hands. ‘I want to go home.’ He looked up at his solicitor. ‘They’ve got my computer; it’s only a matter of time before they find out. I want to tell them what really happened so I can go home.’

‘I recommend we have a break and you discuss this with me first,’ his solicitor said, clearly worried.

‘I didn’t mean her any harm,’ Derek said, ignoring him and looking at Beth. ‘It was a mistake, and now I’m being blamed for all those things I didn’t do.’

‘You need to discuss this with me before you say anything further,’ his solicitor reminded him.

Derek shook his head.

Beth waited, senses alert and tingling. She saw Matt give her the thumbs-up sign out of sight below the table. Derek was about to confess. But whether he told the truth or not was another matter.

A few moments passed and then Derek straightened in his chair, took a breath and steeled himself for what he was about to say. ‘You’re right, I did watch and listen to my clients and I have been doing so for many years. I did it to protect them, to look after them and make sure they were all right. I looked upon it as part of my job, my role in life. They became my friends, my family although they didn’t know it. But I was only trying to protect them, I’d never harm them and you’re wrong about my mother. I don’t hate her, I love her, although she’s a difficult woman sometimes.’ His eyes glistened and he swallowed hard.

‘I understand,’ Beth said gently. His solicitor began making notes.

‘There were no automated messages,’ Derek continued after a moment, his voice unsteady. ‘I made them look as if they were automated. I sent them as and when necessary, either by email, text or voicemail. It made me feel important, in charge and needed.’

Beth nodded as the solicitor wrote and the camera above recorded the interview. ‘Going back, how did you choose your clients originally? One of your apprentices said that you didn’t give quotes to everyone who contacted you.’

‘The clients had to want cameras, not just alarms, and want their system online, otherwise there’d have been no point. I wouldn’t have been able to log in and join them. I had to like them too. I wanted them to be good people, like families should be, which is why I got upset when they behaved badly. But I never intended Mrs Hanks should come to any harm.’

‘So what did you expect to happen when you sent that email alerting Mr Hanks to his wife’s affair?’ Beth asked sceptically.

‘That he would go home, pack a bag and leave. He wanted to retrain as a nurse and I was giving him the chance to leave and start a new life.’

Beth looked at him incredulously. ‘And you didn’t for one moment think that Mr Hanks might be angry seeing his wife of twenty years with another man?’

‘No, he wasn’t like that, not at all aggressive. He was always so meek and mild and never stood up for himself.’

‘They’re often the worst,’ Matt put in.

‘I thought I was helping him; honestly I did,’ Derek said helplessly. ‘I helped Mr and Mrs Williams and lots of my other clients. None of them got hurt. I can’t believe what Mr Hanks did. I went to the hospital and apologized to Maggie – Mrs Hanks.’

‘You’ve visited Mrs Hanks in hospital?’ Beth asked, astounded. Matt and the solicitor were looking at Derek. The only person in the room who didn’t seem to think his behaviour was odd was Derek.

‘I took her some chocolates, her favourites,’ he said. ‘I hadn’t realized she was so ill. She was asleep or unconscious, I don’t know which, so I told her I was sorry and left the chocolates on her bedside cabinet. Do you know if she’s had some?’

Beth stared at him, amazed that he could be so naïve. ‘No, I don’t know.’

‘I passed Mr Hanks on the way out but he didn’t see me,’ Derek continued. ‘He looked very worried.’

‘Are you surprised?’ Matt asked.

‘It’s not a good idea to go to the hospital again,’ his solicitor said. Then to Beth and Matt, ‘I will advise my client accordingly.’

‘Thank you,’ Beth said, then looking at Derek, ‘How many of your clients do you think you have “helped”, as you put it, since you set up your business ten years ago. Approximately?’

‘I know exactly. It’s all on the spreadsheet. I’m a conscientious record keeper. Ninety-eight. It was ninety-nine but I crossed off Mr Hanks after what happened.’

‘Where is this spreadsheet?’ Beth asked.

‘On my computer.’

‘Did you cross off McKenzie, Brown, Murray, Khumalo and Mary Grey too? Or do you consider you helped them?’

There was a moment’s silence when Derek’s jaw tightened in anger before he suddenly exploded. ‘You’re not fucking listening to me!’ His fist crashed onto the table. ‘I keep fucking telling you I didn’t have anything to do with them! Kevin Brown was a nasty bit of work and needed to be taught a lesson, but I didn’t do it. I was at home watching him on CCTV, so how could I be there?’ His solicitor touched his arm to silence him.

‘Your mother told us that you often go out on your motorbike late at night without saying where you’re going,’ Beth continued.

‘I don’t have to tell her! I’m not a fucking child!’

‘We’ll have that break now,’ his solicitor said, and Derek nodded.

At home Elsie Flint had recovered from the shock of Derek’s arrest and was now giving her third interview of the day. What had started off as a local news story had developed into national news, and a camera crew was in her front garden. She was standing outside her front door, wearing her best dress and bright red lipstick. Neighbours, many of whom she’d never seen before had gathered on the pavement to watch. She’d never been so popular and had risen to the occasion.

‘So what sort of child was Derek?’ the reporter asked, holding the microphone just out of sight of the camera.

‘Quiet, shy, a bit of a loner,’ she replied, looking directly into the lens. ‘A nervy child. He didn’t make friends easily. I think his dad leaving left its mark. He never really got over it.’

‘And that isolation continued through to his teenage years and into adulthood?’

‘It got worse,’ she said. ‘He never really had mates to go out with. He sits in his bedroom all evening with his computers.’

‘Which the police think were used for spying on people and committing crimes. Ordinary people who’d done nothing wrong and were unaware your son was watching them – sometimes in quite intimate situations.’

‘I never knew what he was doing up in his bedroom until the police came. They’ve taken away all his computer stuff. I don’t know what he’ll find to do in the evenings now. He doesn’t like watching television.’

The reporter suppressed a smile.

‘But it wasn’t just watching people, was it, Mrs Flint? Bad enough he broke their trust by stalking them, but Derek is now being questioned in connection with a number of unsolved crimes in the area, including the stabbing of the doorman at U-Beat nightclub.’

‘I suppose they think he can help them with their enquiries.’

‘Or possibly the police suspect he was involved?’

‘Do you think so?’ she asked naïvely.

‘Mrs Flint, as Derek’s mother do you feel responsible for what he’s done?’

‘Good gracious no! The reporter from the Sun asked me that this morning. I told her I brought him up as best I could without a father. She wanted some old photographs of him so I found some. It seemed only right as she was paying.’

‘How much have you been paid for your story?’

‘Ten thousand pounds.’

A murmur rippled through the crowd of neighbours watching.

‘So although you brought up Derek alone you don’t feel any responsibility for his crimes?’

‘I’ve already said no.’ There were more mutterings from the crowd and some were now pointing at her accusingly.

‘Do you feel sorry for the victims?’ the reporter asked.

‘I suppose so, although I didn’t know them.’

‘But your main sympathy lies with your son, despite what he is accused of?’

‘Yes.’ A roar went up from the crowd.

‘Is there anything you would like to say to the victims of your son’s alleged crimes or to their families?’

‘No, thank you.’

The crowd booed and Mrs Flint looked surprised. ‘You’re as much to blame as he is!’ someone shouted.

‘I’m going in now,’ she said and immediately turned.

The camera panned so she could be seen running indoors as the reporter wound up with the crowd jeering in the background.

‘As you can see, although Derek’s mother doesn’t believe her son has done anything wrong, her friends and neighbours here clearly think differently. Sandy Smith reporting for Channel News.’