The Danger Within

Forty-Two

Vogel suspended the interview almost immediately. He asked Helen if she would remain in the interview room and left a uniform in charge of her.

He and Saslow were both stunned. But they had work to do.

He instructed Saslow to check out the cases of the three men Helen Harris claimed to have killed, in addition to Thomas Quinn and her husband Kurt St John.

The DS set to with gusto. It quickly became apparent that there were similarities between the three later murders. In each case the wife had been the prime suspect from the beginning, not least because of the history of abuse which became evident. But all three women seemed to have solid alibis, and no other definitive evidence revealed itself. In each instance the investigating officers had continued to believe that, in spite of the alibis, the wife was guilty, but had been unable to prove it. And in each instance the case had been held on file. Which presumably had been Helen Harris’ intention. Assuming she really had committed the crimes in question.

Saslow then studied the MO, the modus operandi, of the three murders, each of which were different, but similar in that they all occurred in the home of the victim when no one else was present in the house. Mark Conway was hit over the head from behind with a heavy object, probably, from the imprint left on his skull, a hammer. Marshall Morgan was stabbed in the heart with a heavy pointed implement which had entered at an angle suggesting that it might have been an ice pick. Jerome Finch’s throat had been cut, sliced from ear to ear with a large sharp knife, quite likely a kitchen knife not dissimilar to the one which had been used to kill Thomas Quinn. In each case, no murder weapon was ever found.

But clearly nobody in any of the police forces involved had looked outside their own investigation. The murder of Mark Conway would have been investigated by their own Devon and Cornwall Police, but had not attracted the attention of the current investigation, and neither she nor Vogel, both new to the D and C, had any previous knowledge of the Conway murder.

Saslow was disappointed that she and Vogel hadn’t picked up on it, but unsurprised that a broader view had not been taken on any of these murders. After all, they would all have been regarded as domestics. Albeit of the most serious kind. Nobody would have suspected any sort of serial killer.

Saslow then attempted to establish a specific link between the previous murders and Helen Harris. One such link was already known, and would be simple to check. Mark Conway’s wife had sought refuge at Helen’s House and had stayed there on at least one occasion.

Saslow called Sadie Pearson and asked her to check the House records on the other two. The DS had already learned that careful records were kept of all who turned to Helen’s House for help and were retained for years for future reference. Helen, in particular, liked to keep in touch, whenever she could safely do so, with any victims of domestic violence known to the House.

Sadie did not seem surprised to hear from her, leading Saslow to suspect that the other woman knew a lot more about her partner’s alleged activities than she was, at this stage anyway, letting on.

Sadie quickly confirmed that the wives of both Jerome Finch and Marshall Morgan had also sought refuge at the House, but had ultimately been coerced into returning to their abusive husbands.

Everything seemed to back up Helen’s story. And what possible motive could she have for lying, particularly in the case of the murders of Conway, Morgan, and Finch? Her account of the killing of her husband, and the way in which she had so meticulously planned it, surely also had to be true. Therefore, Helen had indeed revealed herself to be more than capable of premeditated murder. There was therefore little reason to doubt that she had done the same thing again, and in cold blood killed Thomas Quinn, knowing that she herself could give his abused wife an alibi. Which was something of a double whammy.

Saslow now had few doubts. Helen Harris was a serial killer. Of a very particular kind.

She was a victim turned vigilante.

Meanwhile Vogel, who still didn’t know quite what to make of it all, called both his deputy SIO, Janet Peters, and his immediate superior Detective Superintendent Nobby Clarke, to keep them abreast of the latest extraordinary development.

Then he called Gill Quinn.

‘Are you going to tell me that you have dropped the charge against my son and are coming to arrest me?’ she asked immediately.

Vogel wasn’t sure whether or not she was being serious. So he ignored the remark, instead asking Gill about her and Thomas’ early life. Some of the logistics Helen had chronicled, particularly concerning the start of the relationship between Thomas Quinn and the St Johns, didn’t seem to quite add up. But Gill was quickly able to confirm that Thomas had spent his summers working in North Devon from his mid-teens and was even willing to elaborate somewhat.

‘He had a mate in North Devon whose father ran a golf club and had a stake in a caravan park,’ Gill related. ‘Thomas always said that was where our future lay. As soon as I got pregnant he insisted that we got married, but he agreed that I should stay living with my parents in Plymouth until I’d finished my teacher training, because he knew how much it meant to me. He was like that in those days. Once I’d qualified he whisked me off to Bideford. I thought it was very romantic at the time. Little did I know...’

It all fitted.

Vogel was just finishing the call to Gill when Saslow arrived at his office ready to give a full report of her enquiries.

When she had done so Vogel immediately homed in on a factor that she had not even considered.

‘Did you notice how the murder of Thomas Quinn is the odd one out?’ he asked.

Saslow admitted that she hadn’t.

‘Well, the other murders were all quite clinical,’ Vogel explained. ‘Which suggests to me that they were indeed premeditated. Each involved in effect one blow, albeit with two different sorts of sharp instrument and one blunt instrument, in the case of Conway, Morgan and Finch, and one shot from a gun in the case of Helen’s own husband. But Thomas Quinn was killed in a wild frenzy. He was stabbed eleven times.’

‘I suppose so, boss,’ responded Saslow. ‘Maybe Helen was more personally involved with the Quinn case, though. And maybe she didn’t plan it in the same way, but just seized the opportunity on the spur of the moment when Gill turned up at the House yet again. I mean Helen couldn’t have known that was going to happen, could she?’

Vogel agreed that she couldn’t have done. He remained puzzled. It was time to give Helen Harris a serious grilling.

As soon as the two officers returned to the interview room, Vogel began what he hoped would prove to be an incisive line of questioning.

He pointed out that Helen had claimed, when giving Gill Quinn her alibi, that it would have been impossible for Gill to have left the House without being noticed.

‘In which case, how could you have left without being noticed?’ he asked.

‘Impossible for Gill, not me,’ countered Helen. ‘Have you heard of a flying freehold, Mr Vogel?’

Vogel, a Londoner, confessed that he had not. Helen explained that these had once been common in Devon, and it was partly because the property which became Helen’s House had a flying freehold that she’d been able to afford to buy it. She’d had cash. Such properties were usually unmortgageable.

‘We have a basement which runs beneath the house next door, with a door leading out onto an alleyway at the back,’ Helen explained. ‘Only Sadie and I have access to it. I have found it extremely useful over the years, I can assure you.’

‘How much does Sadie know of your activities?’

‘Absolutely nothing. Well, not until early this morning, anyway.’

‘But she is your partner, Helen,’ Vogel persisted.

‘Oh how fearfully modern of you, chief inspector, not to mention simplistic,’ Helen responded acerbically. ‘I am not in a relationship with Sadie. She is my business partner. She only moved into the House following the death of her husband — who was one of the good guys, by the way — thus releasing some funds which she invested in the House, about which she is every bit as passionate as I am. I’ve therefore already today arranged for Helen’s House to be transferred entirely to Sadie, in the hope that she can continue its work regardless of what happens to me. But you are quite wrong to assume that because I had been so badly abused by a man I would automatically change my sexual preference.’

Vogel found he was beginning to blink rapidly, but for once, and to his immense relief, he managed to control it.

‘However, I was more or less rendered incapable of having any sort of relationship ever again,’ Helen continued rather more softly. ‘And therefore denied the opportunity of the family life I had always desired.’

Vogel feared that they were drifting away from what he felt should be the main focus of this interview.

‘The frenzied stabbing of Thomas Quinn would have left his murderer covered in blood,’ he continued. ‘What did you do with your bloodstained clothing, and weren’t you afraid of it being noticed when you left the crime scene?’

‘I wore a long raincoat, overshoes, and gloves,’ Helen replied. ‘Just like on the other occasions. As I left the scene I removed them and put them in a bin liner I had brought along for the purpose, along with the knife I used to kill Thomas, which weighed it down nicely when I threw the lot into the river from the new bridge.’

Very neat, thought Vogel.

‘Helen, you have multiple sclerosis, very nearly end-stage, you told us. You are not a small woman, but how on earth did you manage to overpower a man like Thomas Quinn? Indeed any of these men.’

‘I did not attempt to overpower Thomas, nor indeed any of them. I used the element of surprise. Thomas was totally taken aback by my arrival. He made no attempt to stop me entering his house, and I struck the first blow before he even knew what was happening.’

‘Why did you stab him so many times?’

‘I lost my temper, chief inspector. I knew that, whatever happened, this would be the last one. I was not going to have the strength to do it again. So I vented all I could of my remaining rage on Thomas.’

Vogel continued to question Helen insistently. He queried the logistics of some of the murders. She said that she drove through the night. He asked how she knew when the wives of Conway, Morgan and Finch were going to be away from their homes, and able to supply a convenient alibi for themselves.

She explained that she kept in touch with these women, providing help and support from a distance whenever possible, and she made it her business to know when they were taking their children to school or nursery, visiting relatives, or working. At least two of them had part-time jobs.

‘Life goes on, Mr Vogel,’ she said. ‘Even within a framework of senseless abuse. It goes on, cloaked in pain and misery, until the abusers are stopped. And, sometimes, only death will stop them. That is why I have done what I have done.’

Vogel, Saslow and the team continued with extensive enquiries throughout the day and into the night, further exploring each of the murders Helen Harris had confessed to. And they interviewed her several times more.

Vogel also attended a series of meetings with the CPS, and with Nobby Clarke, head of MIT and the chief constable of Devon and Cornwall, both of whom drove over from Exeter.

Helen’s story never wavered. She had a quiet certainty about her. Eventually even Vogel had to be convinced that she was telling the truth.

Early on Wednesday morning it was decided to charge her with everything that she had confessed to: the murders of Kurt St John, Marshall Morgan, Jerome Finch, Mark Conway and Thomas Quinn.

Under the circumstances Gregory Quinn was released from custody at once, and all charges against him were dropped.

Vogel had never known anything like it. A press conference was called for later that day. The media went into a feeding frenzy. And who could blame them, thought Vogel.

Helen Harris remained cool and calm throughout. Vogel still thought she was a remarkable woman and maintained a sneaking admiration for her. She was, however, a serial killer. And he was a policeman. So he thought it best not to mention it.

Gregory’s Quinn’s van was returned to him upon his release. He drove along The Quay past the old bridge, turned off by the Kingsley Statue, and parked on the riverbank.

He wasn’t ready to go home yet. He needed to compose himself before he faced his mother.

He found a bench overlooking the Torridge and sat there taking in deep breaths of salty fresh air. The tide was high and the water glistened in the morning sun. Greg thought this might be the most beautiful day he had ever experienced.

He hadn’t expected to be free again for a very long time.

He reached into his pocket for the letter Helen Harris had written to him. She had dropped it off to Philip Stubbs the previous morning and asked him to pass it on to Greg. Philip had done so, unopened, even though Greg suspected he shouldn’t have.

Greg reread the letter. For the umpteenth time. He almost knew it by heart.

Greg could hardly believe what had happened. He had been living a nightmare since Saturday afternoon, when he had gone to the family home and found his father alone there, slightly drunk, and very belligerent.

They had rowed, as usual, mostly about the way Thomas treated Gill. Thomas called Greg ‘a mother’s boy’ and mocked him for being so close to Gill. Then, Thomas went further than ever before. Too far. He called Gill a whore, and suggested that Greg was in a sexual relationship with his mother. And he did so in such a foul and disgusting manner that Greg couldn’t bear to even think about the language Thomas had used.

It was then that he had taken a knife, from the kitchen knife rack, and stabbed his father over and over again. It had indeed been a frenzied attack. Once he’d started he had not been able to stop. And he would always remember the look of total surprise in Thomas Quinn’s eyes.

Very slowly, Greg stood up and walked to the river’s edge. He tore the letter into small pieces and threw them into the water.

‘Thank you, Helen,’ he whispered. ‘You will never be forgotten.’