The Flaming Girls Ch. 06

"Sure. Why not? Do you recognise this man?" Robin put the picture of Walter Middleton on table and the man picked it up and put on his glasses and stared at it myopically.

"That's the fucker that was staring at her all night," the man said stoically.

"Are you sure?" Robin asked sceptically.

"Of course I'm sure. I'm short-sighted not long-sighted. I quite fancied Sadie Smithers myself so when this geezer kept staring at her I was not a happy man, ya ken? There was something about him; he wasn't quite right. Smart suit, flash car, and he hadn't been here before as far as I know. A right tosser," the man said vehemently.

Robin took out his notebook and spent nearly an hour interviewing the man.

When they regrouped Ruffe had news.

"Walter Middleton went to live with his uncle and aunt in his teens before he became a boarder at university. Guess why?" Ruffe had a knowing grin on his face.

"Fuck Ruffe just tell us; this isn't show and tell," Robin was impatient.

"Because his mother died in a house fire on the very same estate we were at yesterday. The fire was put down to his mother, who was an alcoholic according to Walter, smoking in bed. Walter escaped unharmed," Ruffe had a self-satisfied grin on his face.

"Mary Middleton, late thirties, red hair and blue-green eyes," Ruffe slammed down a grainy black and white picture on the table.

"Walter rebuilt the house on the exact spot," Ruffe continued.

"Jesus! Could it be his mother was the first victim? Was she the unknown eighth woman?" Robin speculated.

"Eew! He raped his victims before he killed them. You don't think..." Charlie couldn't finish the sentence.

"Stranger things have happened. I'm no psychiatrist but I'm guessing Mary Middleton was the first flaming girl. Her description and the fact she died in a fire is too much of coincidence. Maybe has an Oedipus complex which he transfers onto his flaming girls?" Glenda speculated.

"Again... eew!" Charlie screwed up her face.

"I don't care what complex he has; he's a murdering bastard and he needs to be put away," Robin slammed his fist on the table.

"Do we have enough for CID to get a search warrant? Once they get inside the house and find everything in that workshop he's done for," Glenda speculated.

"I'm heading down to the Plough to see Mitch Tarry for a drink. He's on the Slasher Task Force and he's not averse to using dodgy evidence to get a conviction. In this case I think he will agree that the means justify the ends. Charlie, I want you to stay here with Glenda, I'll be back as soon as I'm done."

"Give me those pictures, the newspaper cuttings and the notes from my witness at the Trunk and Brick," Robin grabbed his coat and headed out.

Mitch Tarry sat a table in a corner of the pub away from the throng at the bar.

"Here he is, Robin Sparrow, tranny fucker," Mitch arose from the table and grinned at Robin.

Coming from anyone else the insult would have resulted in a punch in the mouth but Mitch Tarry had a sick sense of humour and was one of Robin's true friends in the service. He had been out socially with Robin and Charlie and had treated Charlie only with respect.

"And there he is, Mitch Tarry, fat fucker," Robin grinned back.

Mitch Tarry was quite rotund and his days of chasing down villains were long gone.

Robin wasted no time.

"Don't ask where the pictures came from because I'm not telling," Robin began and then laid out everything that the SCI had on Walter Middleton.

"You know my Guvnor fucking hates that bastard Edward Bard so he's going to love locking up his golfing buddy," Mitch grinned.

"So there is enough there without the photos to get a warrant?" Robin asked.

"We'll get the warrant. The only thing that is going to piss my Guvnor off is that Edward Bard will know about it before we crash into that mad fucker's house. The Chief Constable is informed of all warrants involving serious crimes," Mitch picked up the clippings, the record of interview and the other evidence that Robin had brought.

He pointed to the envelopes full of Polaroids.

"Robin. You're astute enough to know why I didn't ask where you got those photographs and they are a great help because we'll know exactly where to go when we enter the bastard's house but if I were you I'd burn the fuckers," Mitch finished his pint and stood.

"I'll see you get some credit for this. Rub that fucker's nose right in it," Mitch tapped Robin on the shoulder and strode away; a man with a mission.

Robin went back to Glenda's flat and appraised the SIC of the situation.

"Glenda, you need to stand by at the Chief Constable's office, he's going to hit the roof when that warrant is served. Ruffe, you probably want to write up the story ready to submit to your editor as soon as Walter Middleton is arrested, Glenda you call him as soon as it happens," Robin paced up and down the room.

"What about me?" Charlie asked?

"You're coming with me right now. See you all later," he kissed Glenda on the cheek and shook Ruffe's hand.

Robin hailed a minicab and had it take Charlie and he to Moulsham. Charlie protested as he half dragged her down a dingy alley used by streetwalkers and drunks, littered with used condoms and broken booze bottles. Robin knocked on a nondescript door and which was answered by a thin handsome man with long hair.

"Hello gorgeous," John Benstead looked Charlie up and down lasciviously.

"Knock it off John; you know what we we're here for," Robin led Charlie inside.

"Of course Detective Sargent Sparrow, I know exactly what you're here for," John Benstead held out his hand and Robin slapped a wad of cash in it.

"What are we here for?" Charlie was totally confused.

"Just take a seat here love; in front of the camera," John invited Charlie over to a wooden stool.

*****

Later that night Walter Middleton took a phone call from a good friend; he listened carefully and hung up the phone.

"Ah well; it's not like I wasn't expecting it eventually," he said to himself and took the key to his workshop out of his pocket.

Later that night Walter sat in the antique Lois XV chair waiting for Alice to return from her theatre group outing. He heard her Cortina pull into the garage and then the click-clack of her heels on the stairs.

"Oh Walter, you waited up for me," Alice had been drinking.

"Yes I did dear," he smiled back at her.

"Did you want something? Do you want me to put on my sex clothes; I quite fancy a good shagging," she giggled.

"Yes we'll do that after, definitely. But first there is something I need to tell you. It's a matter of life and death... your life and death actually," Walter produced his knife and spun it deftly in his fingers.

It glittered evilly in the lamplight.

*****

Several things happened the next day.

First thing in the morning Mitch Tarry and the Essex Slasher Task Force raided Walter Middleton's estate. Alice Middleton was taken into the kitchen for questioning whilst her husband was forced to hand over his keys and accompany the detectives to his workshop.

They found nothing. The place was spick and span, the drawers in the toolbox, the shelves in the cupboards and lockers were bare. The hidey-hole was empty and Walter denied that he even knew it was there.

"I've been meaning to buy some tools and get myself set up for some do-it—yourself, but who has the time?" Walter said smugly.

Despite being grilled by expert interrogators Alice Middleton was unwavering in her alibi for Walter for all of the dates and times of the Essex Slasher crimes. Her vagina was tender, but in nice way. She quite liked the way Walter had held her down fully-clothed and violated her on their marriage bed last night, she just wished he'd not left the knife on the bedside table while he did it, it was a little disconcerting.

Glenda was summoned into Chief Constable Edward Bard's office and summarily dismissed from her position as chief community support officer and advised that she would be starting the night shift, walking the beat on the streets of Chelmsford forthwith. Her application for CID and promotion recommendation had both been rejected.

She was also advised that the Chief Constable's office had received Detective Sargent Robin Sparrow's resignation that very morning.

Ruffe pulled the single sheet of A4 paper on which he had typed his story about helping to catch the Essex Slasher from the typewriter and balled it up and threw it in the bin. He took a bottle of scotch from the bottom drawer of his desk and took a long pull. He picked up the phone and dialled Maggie Reardon's number in LA.

In 1975 British passports were rather simple affairs, hand-written, with black and white photographs and an embossed stamp from the Foreign Office. Security was a lot more lax in these days and the Customs Offer paid more attention to Charlie's long legs and short skirt than he did to her passport when he stamped it.

"Here we are luv," Robin indicated the first class seat on the top deck of Boeing 747.

"I still can't believe this is happening," Charlie eased herself into the big seat while Robin put his carry-on bag in the overhead locker.

"Well it is. Just enjoy the flight and I'll explain it all to you once we get to Bangkok," Robin sat down beside her and ordered champagne from the attentive hostess whose name badge read Candace Pops.

"Funny name for a hostess," Charlie commented.

"She's got great tits though. Now let's continue the discussion we were having in the taxi about the size of the tits you're going to get," Robin grinned.

Charlie punched Robin in the arm playfully and he leaned in and kissed her.

*****

Two months later Walter Middleton was on holiday in Scotland with his wife and was walking the streets of Edinburgh by himself when a young woman with fiery red hair and emerald green eyes caught his attention. He stared at her and she began to flame.

His Bentley was parked not far away at the hotel where Alice was taking afternoon tea and looking forward to Walter returning later in the afternoon to give her a good shagging. Everything Walter needed to attend to the Flaming Girl was in a suitcase in the boot of the Bentley. He stealthfully followed the girl, his erection hidden by his long overcoat.

As he followed the girl he once again considered the events of the last few months. It was a shame that someone had stolen his hard earned cash from toolbox but he could hardly report the crime now could he? Never mind, he was well on his way to building another nest egg.

"Now. Back to the girl," Walter focussed on the prim young woman with the long legs and the flaming hair.

The End

Author's note: Well readers; did you like the story? Was the ending to your satisfaction? Please let me know by leaving a comment.

xxx

Michele Nylons