Read Online The Night Stalker by Robert Bryndza - Free Book Online
Authors: Robert Bryndza
Tags: Thrillers, Crime, Mystery, Mystery; Thriller & Suspense, Murder, Serial Killers, Thrillers & Suspense, Police Procedurals
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read out her own. Simone was a Libra. She then turned to the front page and read out the story about the doctor from South London who had been found strangled in his bed. When she’d finished, Simone put the newspaper down on her lap.
‘Mary, I’ve never been able to understand men. I never know what my husband, Stan, is thinking… Stan, it’s short for Stanley. He’s like a closed book. It makes me feel lonely. I’m glad I’ve got you… You understand me, don’t you?’
Mary carried on sleeping. She was far away, back in the sunny park, sitting on the blanket with George, the man who had broken her heart.
12
E rika , Moss and Peterson arrived back at Lewisham Row station just before 6 p.m., and they regrouped in the incident room.
‘So, Gregory Munro seems to elude us,’ said Erika, addressing her officers in front of the whiteboards. ‘His mother thinks he’s a saint; his wife paints him as sexually confused, and tightly wound. We visited his medical practice and ran into two of his patients, who have vastly different opinions of his bedside manner… I also spent half an hour on the phone with his practice manager who, after hearing her boss was dead, went off to Brighton for the day for some bar-hopping in the sun. She’s worked for him for fifteen years, and she had no knowledge of his impending divorce, or that his wife left him three months ago.’
‘He compartmentalises his life, then?’ said Crane.
‘That’s one way of putting it,’ said Erika. ‘We’ve requested details of any feedback or complaints made against him by patients. The practice manager wasn’t too keen, but I mentioned a warrant and she changed her tune. She should have it sent over by tomorrow morning at the latest.’
Erika turned and regarded a new addition to the whiteboard. A mugshot of Gary Wilmslow. In the photo he had a little more hair on his head, and stared into the camera with a glowering face and bags under his eyes.
‘So, the closest we’ve got to a suspect so far is the victim’s brother-in-law, Gary Wilmslow. There’s a motive: he hated Gregory and they’d had several run-ins. And his sister will inherit Gregory’s considerable estate. As a family, Gary, Penny and their mother seem as thick as thieves, if you excuse the pun. What have we got on Gary?’
The atmosphere in the incident room changed as Detective Chief Superintendent Marsh entered. Officers sat up straighter and looked more alert. Marsh perched on the long table of printers and indicated to Erika that she should keep going.
Crane stood up. ‘Okay, Gary Wilmslow, aged thirty-seven. Born in Shirley, South London. Currently works sixteen hours part-time as a bouncer at a nightclub in Peckham… Just enough hours for him to still claim benefits. He’s a charming individual, with a record as thick as a Miss Universe contestant,’ he said, dryly. He put his biro between his teeth and rooted around on his desk, locating a large file, which he opened. ‘Wilmslow was tried as a juvenile in 1993, for an attack on an old man at a bus stop on Neasden High Street. The old man was in a coma for three days but recovered to give evidence. Gary spent three years in Feltham Young Offender Institution for that one. Then in 1999 he was tried and found guilty of GBH and ABH, spent eighteen months inside. Did another two years from 2004 to 2006 for dealing drugs.’ Crane was flicking through pages in the thick file. ‘He got another eighteen months in 2006 for attacking a man in a snooker hall in Sydenham with a pool cue. He was charged with rape in 2008, but the charges were dropped due to insufficient evidence. He was then tried for manslaughter last year.’
‘That was whilst he was working as a bouncer?’ asked Erika.
‘Yeah, he works at the H20 nightclub in Peckham, or Haitch Twenty , as it’s known – and hated – by uniform division at the weekends. Gary Wilmslow’s barrister argued that he was acting in self-defence, and he was given
‘Mary, I’ve never been able to understand men. I never know what my husband, Stan, is thinking… Stan, it’s short for Stanley. He’s like a closed book. It makes me feel lonely. I’m glad I’ve got you… You understand me, don’t you?’
Mary carried on sleeping. She was far away, back in the sunny park, sitting on the blanket with George, the man who had broken her heart.
12
E rika , Moss and Peterson arrived back at Lewisham Row station just before 6 p.m., and they regrouped in the incident room.
‘So, Gregory Munro seems to elude us,’ said Erika, addressing her officers in front of the whiteboards. ‘His mother thinks he’s a saint; his wife paints him as sexually confused, and tightly wound. We visited his medical practice and ran into two of his patients, who have vastly different opinions of his bedside manner… I also spent half an hour on the phone with his practice manager who, after hearing her boss was dead, went off to Brighton for the day for some bar-hopping in the sun. She’s worked for him for fifteen years, and she had no knowledge of his impending divorce, or that his wife left him three months ago.’
‘He compartmentalises his life, then?’ said Crane.
‘That’s one way of putting it,’ said Erika. ‘We’ve requested details of any feedback or complaints made against him by patients. The practice manager wasn’t too keen, but I mentioned a warrant and she changed her tune. She should have it sent over by tomorrow morning at the latest.’
Erika turned and regarded a new addition to the whiteboard. A mugshot of Gary Wilmslow. In the photo he had a little more hair on his head, and stared into the camera with a glowering face and bags under his eyes.
‘So, the closest we’ve got to a suspect so far is the victim’s brother-in-law, Gary Wilmslow. There’s a motive: he hated Gregory and they’d had several run-ins. And his sister will inherit Gregory’s considerable estate. As a family, Gary, Penny and their mother seem as thick as thieves, if you excuse the pun. What have we got on Gary?’
The atmosphere in the incident room changed as Detective Chief Superintendent Marsh entered. Officers sat up straighter and looked more alert. Marsh perched on the long table of printers and indicated to Erika that she should keep going.
Crane stood up. ‘Okay, Gary Wilmslow, aged thirty-seven. Born in Shirley, South London. Currently works sixteen hours part-time as a bouncer at a nightclub in Peckham… Just enough hours for him to still claim benefits. He’s a charming individual, with a record as thick as a Miss Universe contestant,’ he said, dryly. He put his biro between his teeth and rooted around on his desk, locating a large file, which he opened. ‘Wilmslow was tried as a juvenile in 1993, for an attack on an old man at a bus stop on Neasden High Street. The old man was in a coma for three days but recovered to give evidence. Gary spent three years in Feltham Young Offender Institution for that one. Then in 1999 he was tried and found guilty of GBH and ABH, spent eighteen months inside. Did another two years from 2004 to 2006 for dealing drugs.’ Crane was flicking through pages in the thick file. ‘He got another eighteen months in 2006 for attacking a man in a snooker hall in Sydenham with a pool cue. He was charged with rape in 2008, but the charges were dropped due to insufficient evidence. He was then tried for manslaughter last year.’
‘That was whilst he was working as a bouncer?’ asked Erika.
‘Yeah, he works at the H20 nightclub in Peckham, or Haitch Twenty , as it’s known – and hated – by uniform division at the weekends. Gary Wilmslow’s barrister argued that he was acting in self-defence, and he was given
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