NEVER RETURN
by
Stephen Barnes
Copyright © Stephen Barnes 2013
This book is set in an imaginary English city. The organisations, events and characters are also imaginary. Any similarity to any person either living or dead is purely coincidental.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, transmitted in any form or by any means without the prior permission of the copyright holder.
Cover Image:
Ilya Terentyev/Getty Images
By the same author:
Fallen Light (2011)
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
Chapter 47
Chapter 48
Chapter 49
Chapter 50
Chapter 51
Chapter 52
Chapter 53
Chapter 54
Chapter 55
Chapter 56
Chapter 57
Chapter 58
Chapter 59
Chapter 60
Chapter 61
Chapter 1
A glimmer of moonlight illuminated the campus as the students set off on their expedition. They crawled through a hole in the fence and began to navigate their way towards the house. It wasn’t the worst thing they could have done on a Friday evening after five pints of lager in the union bar.
James Court and Julian Malpas were former schoolmates who had both made Thorbury City University their first choice for the step-up to higher education. They were high achievers and their success in passing the rigorous selection process had come as no surprise to anyone who knew them. With the academic year in its early days, new college friendships were yet to separate them and a joint nickname had already been conferred by their peer group in first year history. Imaginations had hardly been stretched in coming up with ‘The Jays’.
Since Thorbury Hall had ceased to be the home of the University Business School, it had become a source of fascination for the younger students. Separated from the campus by wire fences and deemed unworthy of preservation by the heritage organisations, it’s future looked bleak.
When the first Earl of Thorbury travelled from the capital to take up residence on its completion in 1840, Thorbury Hall had dominated the landscape. Now, empty and neglected, overwhelmed by the glass and concrete of the university, it was bereft of any meaningful purpose.
The hall had been constructed on a symmetrical plan, the open staircase leading up from the wide entrance hall. A sequence of spacious reception rooms and concealed service rooms were provided along with morning room, dining room, drawing room and library. The upper floors had boasted a total of forty bedrooms with several dressing rooms and one bathroom. More up to date facilities had been added over time and the hall had remained in the family for longer than most Victorian country houses but by the early 1970s, rising maintenance costs and failed business ventures had forced the family to sell up. Since then, the new university had grown around the house making it the elegant centrepiece of an otherwise uninspiring campus.
It was not unusual for freshers to find a way through the fence after a few drinks on a dark autumn evening. They would scurry across the overgrown remnants of the once extensive grounds before realising there was no way into the house through the boarded ground floor windows. After a brief external inspection by torchlight they would creep back, their curiosity barely satisfied.
For this particular meaningless jaunt, Julian was the leader. He had the torch to guide them on their mission while James was the type who preferred to tag along. Despite the well worn path and pre-existing hole, one of many along the fences, James and Julian had convinced themselves that this was a unique act of daring.
It was James who spotted something unusual in the torchlight. “Hey Jules,” he shouted.
“What?” Julian turned to look at James, shining the light in his face.
James shielded his eyes from the glare. “What’s that over there?” he said, pointing at the shrubbery.
Julian redirected the beam but found nothing of interest. “What the fuck you talkin’ about?” he slurred.
“Further along,” James instructed.
Julian zapped the surrounding area with the light.
“Not so fast,” James said. “This way a bit.”
When Julian steadied the torch, the light rested on a white hand and the sleeve of a jacket just above it. He tugged at the bush with his free hand. The body rolled forward, no longer hidden by the foliage as it came to rest.
“My God,” James cried out. He turned in panic and fell onto the path.
Julian looked back at James. “It’s a fucking stiff,” he said coldly.
James struggled to his feet and ran back towards the fence as Julian, unfazed and without the slightest tremble, scanned the body with the torch beam, stopping when it picked out something of particular interest. Holding the torch under his arm, he reached forward and carefully removed the watch from the dead wrist. After a brief examination, he slipped it into his pocket. His father had a Breitling wristwatch and it was worth eleven grand.
Chapter 2
Colin Evans skipped past the police van and ducked under the yellow tape. The Scene of Crime Officers, dressed in white hooded scene suits, gave him dirty looks but remained silent as the Inspector passed them.
The Doctor was examining the body under the portable floodlighting. “Colin, you’re much too early,” he complained as Evans emerged into the light. He was on his knees, leaning over the body which was lying face up.
Although Evans never arrived before the murder scene paraphernalia, he was always too early for the doctor. “Looks fresh Phil,” he said, indicating the large gunshot wound in the chest.
“He’s been dead for no more than two hours. Single shot through the heart. White male, mid-twenties at a guess.”
“Exit wound?” Evans asked.
“Yes.”
“Is this where he was killed?”
“The body rolled onto the path when the shrubbery was disturbed by the students but yes, you’re definitely contaminating a murder scene. And before you ask, there’s no ID. There’ll be nothing else until we get him to the mortuary.”
“Okay Doc. I’ll see you later.”
Evans began to walk back towards the tape.
“There are a couple of things,” the Doctor said. “His shoes are missing and he’d been wearing a wristwatch. That’s missing as well.”
“He wasn’t wearing shoes?” Evans asked.
“They were removed post mortem.”
&nbs
p; “How did you work that out?”
The Doctor looked glum as he stared at the DI. “His socks are clean,” he said.
“I’ll give you that one Doc,” Evans conceded. “What about the watch?”
“A similar deduction. Dirt on the left palm and lower forearm but a strip of clean skin around the inside of the wrist, roughly the width of a watchstrap. Also a faint indentation of the skin likely to have been caused by the strap.”
“The watch was removed from the body?”
“I’d say so.”
“Looks like a tough one Boss.” The youthful voice came from the darkness beyond the tape.
Evans walked towards the source of the voice. “You managed to get out of bed then Marshy?” Evans asked as Stephen Marsh appeared at the edge of the light.
“Didn’t need to. Friday’s usually a late night for me. I sleep in on Saturday when I’m not on duty.”
“There’ll be no time for sleeping tomorrow Marshy. Have we called Chris Hinton?”
“He’s in transit. Will there be a DCI on this one?”
“I don’t think so. It’s likely to be me and the Superintendent.”
“Is that a good thing?”
“I can live with it. A lot of my best cases have been led by Chris Hinton. He does the management, I do the investigation.”
“Wonder what he was doing here?” Marsh said, pointing at the victim.
“So do I. Who are your friends?”
Two even younger men were standing in the gloom behind Marsh. Evans joined the gathering on the other side of the tape.
“These are the students who found the body. James Court and Julian Malpas,” Marsh said as the young men stepped forward.
“What were you doing in the grounds of the hall?” Evans asked. “I’m told they’re out of bounds.”
“We’d been in the bar. We just wanted to take a look,” one of the students explained.
“Which one are you?” Evans asked.
“Julian.”
“How did you get in?”
“Through a hole in the fence.”
“So you were going to break into the hall?”
“No. We only wanted a closer look. You wouldn’t know about it if we hadn’t found the body.”
“Can you identify the victim?”
“No.”
“Did you see anyone else or anything suspicious?”
“I don’t think so. We’ve had a couple of pints.”
“Same with you?” Evans asked the other student.
“Yes,” James said, nodding.
“How did you spot the body in the dark?”
Julian took the torch from his coat pocket and held it up for Evans to see.
“You both live on campus?” Evans asked Julian.
“Yes, we’re in Bryant House.”
“You got their room numbers Sergeant?”
“Yes Boss. Everything’s logged,” Marsh replied.
“Good. We’ll take formal statements in the morning. Set your alarm clocks for eight o’clock,” Evans told the students.
“Any word yet from the doc?” Marsh asked as Julian and James walked away.
“There isn’t much. The body wasn’t dumped which means he was either brought here alive by whoever shot him or he had his own reasons for being here.”
“I can’t see why anyone other than boozed up teenagers would want to come here. When I was at the Business School, we were based in the hall. The department moved to the new building four years ago and the hall was fenced off due to concerns about safety. By now, the remaining grounds are so overgrown you can hardly see the house from the campus. There are warning signs all along the fences. One of the caretakers opened the gate for us.”
“Are Julian and James telling the truth?” Evans asked.
“Yes. I don’t think they’re the first to stray into the grounds. They’re both studying history. Perhaps after a few pints their imaginations got the better of them.”
“We’ll see if we can get more from them in the morning when the shock and the beer have worn off. Our victim seems too old to be a student. And too well dressed judging by his suit.”
“City University takes a lot of older students but they’re less likely to go on pointless forays in the grounds of Thorbury Hall.”
“Time to knock the old place down isn’t it?”
“Yes. It’s not got much of a future. I doubt if the university could raise the money needed to save it.”
“No reason to spend good money on a pointless old relic in my opinion. I wonder what happened to his shoes.”
“His shoes?”
“Yeah, according to the Doc, they were removed after he was shot.”
“Blimey, bit of a puzzle this one. Do you think the students stole them?”
“That would be unlikely. The Doc reckons he’d been wearing a wristwatch. That’s missing as well.”
“They might have taken the watch if it was valuable.”
“I’ve only ever had one case where someone other than the killer stole from a body. A vagrant pinched a wallet and mobile phone. We traced him from the signal. He’d made himself our prime suspect.”
“I’m surprised that doesn’t happen more often.”
“Most people who find a body call us straight away. They tend not to incriminate themselves by stealing from the victim.”
“Are we waiting for Mr Hinton?” Marsh asked.
“No. We need to look for witnesses. Who do we have in situ apart from the SOCOs?”
“Two PCs securing the scene and another noting registration numbers in the car park and the vicinity.”
“What about the CCTV?”
“The caretaker says it’s quite an old system. The coverage isn’t good but I’m getting it checked.”
“Anyone else around apart from the caretaker?”
“Yes, the Student Union bar is still open.”
“In that case, ask control to send more uniform support. We’ll talk to everyone in the area. It would be nice to make progress before Chris Hinton rolls up.”
Chapter 3
The sticker on the DVD case read ‘Know the Signs’. Paul Cahill placed his coffee cup on the living room table and removed the disc. The urge to play it didn’t last. The former Detective Sergeant didn’t need any lessons in spotting the signs of drug abuse in students or any reminders of his former life. He threw the DVD onto the sofa and considered his options for breakfast.
Paul had just completed his second week as a history lecturer at City University. He was no longer a PhD student. He was Dr Cahill, a fully fledged academic and as a young man yet to celebrate his thirtieth birthday, he could see a long future ahead of him in academia.
The DVD was on loan from the new university chaplain who was attempting to make his mark by waging war against the evil of illicit drugs. Paul had chosen not to mention the similar campaign he had waged in the City Police before deciding to return to his alma mater.
Paul’s home was a flat less than half a mile from the campus. It was small but met his limited requirements. The decor was neglected but Paul had no interest in such trivialities. He barely noticed the fading paintwork or the previous tenant’s unusual taste in wallpaper.
Carol, Paul’s partner, was yet to persuade him to hire a decorator. She entered the room, her hair still wet after her shower and her damp bathrobe clinging to her slim figure. Paul was still wearing his night time T-shirt and pyjama bottoms.
“I had the radio on in the bathroom,” Carol said. “Someone was shot dead last night at the university. It happened in the grounds of Thorbury Hall.”
“In the grounds, are you sure?” Paul asked.
“Yes. The police are all over them.”
“Bloody marvellous. I thought I’d escaped from murder scenes.”
“Two students found the body not long after it happened according to the report.”
“Who was the victim?”
“They didn’t give a name. It was a man in his t
wenties not known to have any connection with the university.”
“That’s a relief. I’ll be keeping well clear of it. I worked on homicides during my time on the force. If I start to take an interest I might find myself pining for my old job.”
“Well in that case, we’ll say no more about it.”
“Good. I can do without distractions while I’m finding my feet. Everyone’s treating me like a rookie.”
“But you are a rookie,” Carol pointed out before picking up the DVD from the sofa. “What’s this?” she asked.
“It’s a bluey,” he told her with a smile.
“You never said you were into porn. Let’s have a look.”
Carol slid the disc into the player beneath the television. Paul didn’t try to stop her.
They both sat on the sofa as an anonymous face appeared on the screen. Carol looked at Paul. “What the fuck’s this?” she demanded.
“It was loaned to me last week by the university chaplain. He’s a fanatical anti-drugs campaigner who’s linked his obsession to the spiritual wellbeing of the students.”
“It’s not a difficult connection to make,” Carol remarked. She looked back at the TV as the face on the screen addressed the camera.
“The major hard drug is heroin which is derived from opium. It is often taken with cocaine which enhances the euphoric effects and can also counteract the sleeplessness induced by heroin.”
It didn’t take long for Carol’s attention to waver from the TV. Her hand was inside Paul’s shirt. She kissed his neck as the monotonous voice droned on.
“For addicts, heroin becomes their whole life. They can neither live nor consider life without it. Everything is devoted to the next fix and to obtaining supplies of the drug by whatever means possible.”
Carol was increasing her efforts as Paul began to respond. He found it difficult to block out the voice.
“Come on Paul,” Carol said into his ear. “Let’s turn this off.” She reached for the remote which rested on the arm of the sofa but only succeeded in knocking it to the floor. Paul put his arm around her. Her bathrobe fell open as the voice continued to invade the room.
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