I took a taxi from the
‘Well look what the bloody cat dragged in.’
Sergeant Wilson was still on the desk, taking me back.
‘Samuel,’ I nodded.
‘How long’s it been?’ he whistled.
‘Not long enough.’
He was laughing, ‘You here for the press conference?’
‘Not for the bloody good of my health, am I?’
‘Jack Whitehead? Good health? Never.’ He pointed upstairs. ‘You know the way’
‘Unfortunately’
It was not as busy as I thought it would be and I didn’t recognise anyone.
I lit a cigarette and sat at the back.
There were a lot of chairs down at the front and a WPC was putting out about ten glasses of water and I wondered if she’d let me have one, but I knew she wouldn’t.
The room started to fill with men who looked like footballers and a couple of women and for a moment I thought one of them was Kathryn, but when she turned round she wasn’t.
I lit another cigarette.
A door opened down the front and out came the police, damp suits and ties, red necks and faces, no sleep.
The room was suddenly full, the air gone.
It was Monday 30 May 1977.
I was back.
George Oldman, in the middle of the table, began:
‘Thank you. As I’m sure you are aware,’ he was smiling, ‘the body of a woman was found on Soldier’s Field, Roundhay, early yesterday morning. The body has been identified as that of Mrs Marie Watts, formerly Marie Owens, aged thirty-two, of Francis Street, Leeds.
‘Mrs Watts was the victim of a particularly brutal attack, the details of which we are unable to reveal at this stage of our inquiry. However, a preliminary post-mortem by Professor Farley of the Department of Forensic Medicine at Leeds University, has determined that Mrs Watts was killed by a substantial blow to the head from a heavy blunt object.’
Oldman was saying, ‘Mrs Watts had been living in the city since October last year, after moving up from the London area where it is believed she worked in a number of hotels. We are particularly interested in talking to anyone who can give us more information about Mrs Watts and her life in London.
‘We would also appeal to any member of the public who was in the vicinity of Soldier’s Field on Saturday night, Sunday morning, to come forward for purposes of elimination only. We are particularly interested in speaking to the drivers of the following cars:
‘A white Ford Capri, a red or maroon Ford Corsair, and a dark-coloured Landrover.
‘Again, I would stress that we are trying to trace these vehicles and their drivers for elimination purposes only and that any information received will be treated in the strictest confidence.’
Oldman took a sip of water, before continuing:
‘Furthermore, we would like to appeal for a Mr Stephen Barton of Francis Street, Leeds, to come forward. It is believed that Mr Barton was a friend of the deceased and could have valuable information about the last few hours of Mrs Watts’ life.’
Oldman paused, then smiled: ‘Again, this is for elimination purposes only and we would like to emphasise that Mr Barton is not a suspect.’
There was another pause as Oldman went into a whispered huddle with the two men next to him. I tried to put names to the faces: Noble and Jobson I knew, the other four were familiar.
Oldman said, ‘As some of you are no doubt aware, there are some similarities between this murder and those of Theresa Campbell in June 1975 and Joan Richards in February 1976, both of whom were prostitutes working in the Chapeltown area of the city.’
The room erupted and I sat there shocked that Oldman had said this so openly, given all his previous form.
George moved his hands up and down, trying to calm everyone: ‘Gentlemen, if you’ll let me finish.’
But he couldn’t stop it, and neither could I:
It was worse than I thought it would be, more than I thought it would be:
Oldman had paused, his best Headmaster stare on show until the room went quiet. ‘As I say,’ he continued, ‘there are some similarities that cannot be ignored. At the same time, we cannot categorically say that all three murders are the work of the same individual. However, a possible link is one avenue of inquiry we are pursuing.
‘And, to that end, I’m announcing the formation of a task force under Detective Chief Superintendent Noble, here.’
That was it, chaos; the room couldn’t contain these men and their questions. All around me, men were on their feet, shouting and screaming at Oldman and his boys.
George Oldman was smiling, staring straight back at the pack. He pointed at one reporter, cupping his ear to the question, then feigning indignation and exasperation that he couldn’t hear the man. He put up his hands, as if to say,
The noise subsided, people sat back down on the edge of their seats, poised to pounce.
Oldman pointed at the man still standing.
‘Yes, Roger?’ he said.
‘Was this latest victim, Marie Watts, was she a prostitute then?’
Oldman turned to Noble, and Noble leant into Oldman’s microphone and said, ‘At this point in our investigation, we can neither confirm nor deny such reports. However, we have received information that Mrs Watts was known in the city as something of what we would describe as a good-time girl.’
The whole room thinking,
Oldman pointed to another man.
The man stood and asked, ‘What specific similarities have led you to investigate a possible connection?’
Oldman smiled, ‘As I say, there are some details of these crimes that we are unable to make public. However, there are some obvious similarities in the location of the murders, the age and lifestyles of the victims, and the way in which they were killed.’
I was drowning:
At the back, I raised a hand above the water.
Oldman looked over the heads at me, frowned for a moment, and then smiled. ‘Jack?’ he said.
I nodded.
A couple of people down the front turned round.
‘Yes, Jack?’ he said again.
I stood up slowly and asked, ‘Are these the only three murders under consideration at the moment?’
‘At the moment, yes.’
