You Are Dead

60

Tuesday 16 December

Following the 11 a.m. Gold group meeting, shortly before midday, Cassian Pewe strutted into the Lounge Assembly Room at Malling House, the Sussex Police Headquarters, wearing a starched white shirt with epaulettes and a black tie.

Roy Grace, in a navy suit, followed him up onto the podium and they stood side by side in front of the microphones facing the largest gathering of press and media Grace had ever seen, amid a dazzling storm of flashlights. He remembered what he had been told many years ago, to take several deep breaths both to calm his nerves and energize him before addressing a crowd.

There were at least fifty people in the room: journalists, television crews from Sky News, Latest TV, BBC South, and radio reporters he recognized from Radio Sussex and Juice FM, as well as half a dozen more he was unfamiliar with. Also on the podium, standing well to their left, was the Police and Crime Commissioner looking smart and elegant in a grey suit and white blouse, and the Chief Executive of Brighton and Hove City Council, Philippa Tomsett, also smartly dressed.

The room fell silent. Pewe began speaking, but no one could hear him.

‘Stand a bit closer to the microphone,’ Grace whispered to him.

There was a squawk, then a loud crackle, then Pewe’s voice rang out. ‘Thank you all for coming. I’m Assistant Chief Constable Cassian Pewe, with responsibility for the overall investigation of major crime in Sussex, and on my right is Detective Superintendent Roy Grace of Surrey and Sussex Major Crime Team, who is the Senior Investigating Officer on Operation Haywain. We also have with us on my left the Police and Crime Commissioner for Sussex and the Chief Executive of Brighton and Hove City Council. I’m asking Detective Superintendent Grace to brief you on the investigation thus far and then we will take questions.’

As soon as Grace had finished, a sea of hands rose. Siobhan Sheldrake from the Argus called out first. ‘Detective Superintendent Grace, is it true you believe the disappearances of two Brighton women in the past week, Ms Logan Somerville and Ms Ashleigh Stanford, are linked with the disappearance two weeks ago of Worthing resident Ms Emma Johnson?’

Grace took another deep breath and stepped up closer to his microphone. ‘Yes, and we also have reason to suspect that the offender behind their abductions may be responsible for two murders we believe occurred approximately thirty years ago. One is the unsolved murder of Catherine Jane Marie Westerham, a nineteen-year-old student at Sussex University, who failed to return to her residence in Elm Grove, Brighton, in December, 1984, and whose remains were found in Ashdown Forest in April 1985. The other is the remains of a young woman in her late teens or early twenties which were recovered from Hove Lagoon, who we believe was murdered around the same time.’

He pointed at the screen behind him, on which photographs of Emma Johnson, Logan Somerville and Ashleigh Stanford were being projected. ‘The main focus of the investigation at this time is finding these three young women, and we are appealing to the public for anyone who has seen them or may know their current whereabouts to come forward and contact the Incident Room or Crimestoppers, on the phone numbers behind me.’

‘Detective Superintendent,’ a slovenly-looking middle-aged reporter Grace did not recognize called out. ‘Are you saying there is a serial killer who has been dormant for thirty years now active in the city of Brighton and Hove?’

Grace could feel the sudden silence in the room, and the almost vulture-like air of anticipation. He chose his words, which he had rehearsed many times, carefully. ‘We are looking for a middle-aged man with local knowledge and a sadistic streak, who appears to be targeting young women of a specific appearance. He’s already made a number of mistakes, which I can’t go into now. There is evidence we have found so far where the victims appear to be branded with the same phrase. That phrase is, “You Are Dead”.’ Immediately the words ‘U R DEAD’ appeared on the screen behind him. ‘I know,’ he went on, ‘that you out there will want to give him a title, and for this reason we are calling him the Brighton Brander.’

Instantly a barrage of questions was fired at him, each of them desperate to get their questions heard.

‘Where were they branded?’

‘What was it done with?’

‘How big is it?’

‘What’s the significance?’

Roy raised his hands to try to calm the audience down. ‘We don’t know the significance of this phrase, but I can tell you it is approximately two inches wide and half an inch high.’

Another question came from the rear of the room. ‘How could there be such a long gap, Detective Superintendent?’

‘We only know that there was a long gap here in our city,’ Grace replied. ‘It’s possible he may have moved away for a period, offending elsewhere. But there are plenty of examples both here in our country and overseas of patterns of this kind.’

‘Are you certain the offender is male?’ a sharp-faced woman said from near the front.

‘Yes, we are, from forensic evidence.’

‘Can you tell us what kind of forensic evidence? Semen?’

‘We are not prepared to divulge that at this stage,’ Grace replied. ‘We would like to hear from anyone who saw an old grey or dark blue K-reg Volvo estate car in Kemp Town or Dyke Road area, in the vicinity of the Chesham Gate apartment building between five and six o’clock last Thursday evening.’ They were deliberately holding back the registration number at this stage.

A grey-haired man in a baseball cap, standing by the Latest TV cameraman, called out, ‘Do you have any suspects for the Brighton Brander, Detective Superintendent?’

Grace was pleased the man was using the name. ‘Not as yet, no. We are working with forensic psychiatrists and a psychologist.’ He took a deep breath again, then went on. ‘Although we are linking the disappearances of Emma, Logan and Ashleigh, this is a relatively rare occurrence and we don’t want to cause unnecessary concern. We will be providing guidance and advice to young women in the city, as well as increasing the police visibility on the streets.’

Pewe suddenly leaned forward and spoke again. ‘The important thing is that we don’t want to create a situation of panic. We are confident of an imminent arrest.’

Grace gave him a sideways glare, inwardly despairing of the man. He had just said the very word Grace had been so studiously trying to avoid. Panic. Pewe had also promised an imminent arrest, which at this moment, without a live suspect, they had no chance of delivering

‘Assistant Chief Constable Pewe, do you think the citizens of Brighton should be taking extra precautions to protect themselves from the Brighton Brander?’ said another journalist. It was followed by more questions from all over the room that came too fast for all to be answered.

‘Assistant Chief Constable, would you advise all women to stay at home until the Brighton Brander is caught?’

‘Detective Superintendent, what advice will you be giving to young women in the city?’

‘I’d like to ask the Police and Crime Commissioner if as a result of this she will be providing the budget to restore the number of police officers this city used to have?’

Nicola Roigard outlined the support she would be providing the police for the investigation and to address the community safety issues.

‘Detective Superintendent, can you tell us exactly what measures you are taking to find this man you are calling the Brighton Brander?’

‘Detective Superintendent, is there any message of reassurance you can give to the people of Sussex?’

Grace leaned towards the microphone and tried to speak, but his voice was lost in the storm of questions now erupting right across the room. Once the hubbub had died down he ran through the rest of the information he wanted to share, and outlined how the public could provide potential information to progress the investigation.

An hour after the conference ended, the Argus ran a banner headline on its online edition, POLICE CHIEF WARNS OF SERIAL KILLER PANIC IN CITY.

On the national news, both the BBC radio and television, and Sky, led with the story that Brighton was in a state of panic following the return of a serial killer after thirty years.

Grace sat, stony-faced, at the 6.30 p.m. briefing of Operation Haywain. On the notepad in front of him he had written the words: Cassian Pewe. Total wanker. He had underlined them several times.

But for now he had to keep those feelings to himself.