Page 47 of Watching You

‘DS Salter,’ Biddlecombe shouted down the phone line, ‘I’m transferring a call to you. It’s from a woman who claims she knows the man in the CCTV image.’

‘All right, put her through,’ Salter said, flexing her neck and wishing she was in bed.

Since the image of the suspect had been released in the morning papers, they’d been overrun with calls from people who claimed to know his identity, so much so that the briefing room had become one huge call centre.

They were already following up several calls with more detailed enquiries, but the sheer volume of possible names was proving unhelpful in the short term.

‘Hello, this is—’

‘Karl Smith,’ the woman on the other end of the line said. ‘The man in that photo is Karl Smith. I’m not just guessing, I know.’

‘Okay,’ Salter said, ‘and in what capacity—’

‘I was his father’s carer until just a few days ago.

I saw that man five days a week and I’ll tell you something for nothing, he is absolutely fucking terrifying.

I only did that job because I needed the hours, and caring is good money because no one wants to wipe old people’s bums for a living.

But that house? The agency couldn’t get anyone else to bloody go because the few people who had worked there before me hated it.

They had to pay me more than my usual rate to do it, and if I hadn’t been desperate, I’d never have gone there for so long.

When he terminated my contract last week, I swear my blood pressure halved immediately. ’

‘He terminated the contract this week just gone?’ Salter confirmed, waving another officer over and motioning at the notepad she was writing on.

‘Yes. Something about not being able to afford it, but he had some money from his mother’s death, plus a carer’s allowance, and I know he worked from home too. He was always on his laptop if we were there at the same time.’

‘And your name is?’

‘Mrs Sandra Bissett. The thing you should know is, sometimes I heard him talking to his mother. Like, arguing with her. I don’t think he even knew he was doing it.

He’d be on his own upstairs then suddenly he’d yell and I’d think, is he hurt?

Has someone broken in? Should I go up and check on him? But there was never anyone else there.’

‘Okay, I’m just taking some notes, Mrs Bissett. You said you found him terrifying. Was there anything specific he did to make you feel that way or was it something you sensed?’

‘Both!’ she blurted. ‘He would stare at me when he thought I couldn’t see him, not directly but using the hallway mirror so he could see into the lounge.

I don’t just mean for a few seconds. Sometimes he’d stand out there and watch me for fifteen minutes while I pretended not to notice.

A couple of times, he got so angry about stupid little things that he’d almost seemed to be baring his teeth at me, then a second later he’d give me this great big smile as if he’d remembered he was supposed to be acting human. ’

‘And was there anything unusual that happened in the last few months?’

Sandra paused to think about it. ‘Only the deliveries, really. We didn’t get many of them before, but recently they started coming.

Clothes mainly, for him. But there was something going on, because every now and then his father would have an accident in spite of the adult nappies he wore, and then I’d strip the bed and dump the soiled stuff in the laundry.

There were at least three sets of doctor’s or nurse’s clothes in there, the cotton trousers and top, you know?

Different colours, and had been worn, for sure.

But that man didn’t have a job at any hospital that I was aware of.

Gave me the creeps, like he’s got some sort of fetish. ’

Salter was on her feet in a heartbeat and banging on the desk.

‘Mrs Bissett, not that I don’t believe any of this, but are you absolutely sure, beyond a shadow of a doubt?’

‘Oh yes,’ she said. ‘I’d bet my life on it.’

‘Please don’t do that,’ Salter said. ‘But could you give me the address?’

Salter was leaving nothing to chance. At Karl Smith’s house, warrant obtained en route, there was a van of armed officers, a crew from MIT and Brodie Baarda.

‘We’re covering front and back?’ Baarda checked.

‘We are. Armed units are going in first to clear the place, then we can enter. There have been no signs of life from inside so far, but his father is supposed to be bedridden and not left alone.’

‘All right,’ Baarda said, motioning to the armed unit leader. ‘Let’s go.’

They knocked, announced themselves, then broke in through the front and back doors simultaneously. A few minutes of shouting followed as they went from room to room, then the unit leader reappeared.

‘Property is safe and unoccupied,’ he said. ‘Nothing suspicious to report and no evidence of a recent or hasty departure. You can go in now.’

Baarda went in first with Salter behind him. They headed directly into what should have been the dining room, only it was taken up with a bed, different types of medication and a tatty armchair.

‘I want to know where his father is,’ Baarda said. ‘He didn’t get up and walk out, so someone must have seen something.’

‘Uniformed officers are starting door-to-door enquiries already. If anyone’s seen anything in the last week, we’ll know about it. Look, family portrait. I’m guessing he was about ten or eleven at the time.’

On the wall to the side of the TV was a yellowing photograph of Karl Smith with his father on one side and his mother on the other.

Barbara Smith was looking into the camera as if she either wanted to eat it or kill it, it wasn’t clear which.

Karl’s father, on the other hand, was looking slightly away from the lens.

But it was Karl who they stared at, his face marked with a spattering of moles, lips slightly parted.

Baarda took a photo of it and sent it straight to Connie.

‘He looks like he’s about to scream,’ Salter said. ‘I can see why the carer didn’t like it here.’

‘Ma’am,’ an officer said from the front door, ‘the neighbours say an ambulance was here a couple of days ago. They were here quite a while and eventually a body was taken away covered up. No blue lights. They got the impression the father had passed.’

‘We need to see that body,’ Baarda said.

‘Any word on where Karl might be?’ Salter asked.

‘Apparently he was last here the same day, and he hasn’t been back since that anyone’s noticed.’

‘Thank you, constable,’ Salter said. ‘Well, that’s convenient. His father dies, he packs a bag, no one to look after any more. What do you think?’

Baarda walked up to get a closer look at Karl in the photo.

‘I think he killed his father because he had no intent of ever coming back here. And that means he’s either left the country because he doesn’t want to get caught for the things he’s already done, or he’s got something else in store and doesn’t want to be interrupted before he can do it. ’

‘I agree,’ Salter said. ‘I’ll have a scenes of crime unit go through everything. What’s your priority?’

‘Getting an up-to-date photo of his face. DVLA will have one or maybe the passport office if there’s nothing here.

See if we can find his mobile number and get a trace on it.

I want Nate Carlisle inspecting Mr Smith’s body for signs of foul play.

Also a number plate, see if we can figure out where his car is, and a ports alert throughout the UK. ’

‘On it,’ Salter said. ‘And the carer mentioned something about his mother, who’s deceased. The carer thought Karl used to talk to her, even argue with her sometimes. He sounds delusional.’

‘Let’s see what else we can find,’ Baarda said, heading for the staircase and taking care to touch as little as possible on the way.

The bathroom door was wide open.

‘No toothbrush or toothpaste there,’ he noted. ‘Karl is definitely taking a trip.’

Next was Karl’s room, bed unmade, drawers open.

Baarda moved on. Next door was a bedroom with no bed in it, and a single wardrobe with a few pairs of trousers and a couple of shirts.

At the far end of the upstairs hallway was one last bedroom.

Baarda pushed open the door and immediately covered his nose and mouth with his hand.

Everything was yellow, from the wallpaper to the sheets and curtains, to the stained mirror.

‘It’s like a pub taproom from the 1970s,’ Baarda said.

‘It must have been hard to move on when they were able to smell this room every day.’ He walked to a dusty pile of paperwork on the rickety bedside table, picked up a letter and opened it up, reading it from top to bottom before turning to Salter.

‘What is it?’ she asked.

‘It’s the end of a complaints process,’ Baarda said quietly.

‘The board at St Columba hospital concluded that there had been no negligence or mistreatment of Barbara Smith, and that everything possible had been done to attempt to save her life. They were notifying Karl that his complaint against the hospital would not be upheld and they suggested that if he felt the need to take it further, he should get independent legal advice. They’ve also asked that he stay away from the hospital unless he had a legitimate medical reason for being there, and that any further contact should be made only through lawyers.

Sounds like he was causing them something of a problem. ’

‘So maybe that’s what he was doing there,’ Salter said. ‘It was a vendetta, and he was collecting victims along the way.’

‘We should go straight to St Columba’s. I want to speak with whoever handled this complaint and I want immediate access to the files.

I’ll call Connie and Midnight from the car.

If Karl Smith isn’t there already, I’m sure whatever he has planned involves someone from the hospital. We just need to figure out who.’