On Eden Street

by Peter Grainger

  Freeman said, ‘Good point. We could look into that. Tom?’

  Greene said, ‘It depends on exactly what he’s doing. If he’s handling cash, he needs to be licensed. And also for things like close protection and door supervision, but not for everything. To be honest, the last time I had any dealings with it, the Security Industry Association wasn’t up to much, but we should give it a go. Maya, start online and see how far you can get. But as I said, everyone, he might not be in security at all. It was just a guess based on what he’s done so far, and the thought that if he’s gone to ground in the Hunston area he’ll be looking for something that keeps him out of sight. A security job could do that.’

  An unusual spell of quiet descended on the office. As he typed, Waters wondered whether Joe Ritz would be willing to give evidence. Wortley hadn’t made a confession as such but Joe was still a Catholic priest of some sort, and he might well consider how the shelter would be affected if the man in charge was seen to give evidence involving people who stayed there. It was turning out to be an odd case all round, and one he would not forget, for all sorts of reasons. He checked his phone and saw the text he had sent to Miriam, quite unnecessarily, reminding her about tomorrow night, had now been read – or, in her case listened to, almost an hour ago, but she hadn’t replied. Probably too busy removing the thorns from rose stems.

  Murray had been on the phone for several minutes, mostly waiting in silence. Then he was writing something down and checking back that he had the details correct – this had to be the bank. And it was to Waters that Murray looked and nodded before he said to the room, ‘The payments into Wortley’s account are made by the ADS Group. The reference number on each payment is Wortley’s employee number.’

  DI Greene looked around and said, ‘ADS Group, anyone?’

  Then it was back with John Murray who said, ‘I’ve come across them before. They’re based up in Lakenham.’

  And Greene said, in all innocence, ‘What is it they do?’

  ‘Security, sir.’

  The detective inspector made the call, and then Cara Freeman sat in while he briefed Denise Sterling and John Murray. Greene said, ‘I’ve spoken to a Mr Alan Davies, who’s a director – from the company name, I’m guessing he set it up. He’s hands-on and has an office at their headquarters in Lakenham. He’ll meet you there in about three quarters of an hour. I’ve stressed the importance of discretion, and said that whatever questions you need to ask, no action on his part will be required. By which I meant, obviously, that we don’t want anyone talking to Wortley as a result of this visit. You need to stress the importance of that while you’re there.’

  Denise Sterling said, ‘Have you mentioned Michael Wortley’s name yet, sir?’

  ‘No, for the same reason. All Mr Davies knows is that we’re seeking information about someone as part of a wider inquiry. It has nothing to do with the work of his company, no criminal charges are involved and no one poses any threat. We would like to see an employee’s file and that should be the end of the matter. We want Wortley’s address, any phone number he’s given them, any other contact details.’

  John Murray said, ‘It might be handy to know where he’s working and what he’s doing, ma’am.’

  The DCI said, ‘Agreed, John. And have a nose around. I’m sure they’re legit but this case already has some funny twists and turns. Let’s make sure Wortley isn’t riding shotgun on another dodgy wagon. Take the photo of Wortley with you, just in case he’s turned into Mr Yates again somewhere along the line, but be careful who you show it to. The priority is not to have him going on the run again. We’ve no idea how long Regional intend to keep him under observation. Or why, for that matter. I think I’d be telling Harry Alexander to bring him in. If he’s valuable, put him into witness protection.’

  Greene said, ‘Cost, ma’am. It’s around two thousand pounds a week, and great deal more if you have to give them permanent cover after a conviction. At least half a million pounds.’

  Freeman looked at Murray and Sterling with an expression that seemed to be saying, how would he even know that? Her mobile buzzed, as it had been doing throughout the day, and she glanced at the text message before closing it. Then she said, ‘OK guys, you know what you’re doing. It’s softly, softly all the way on this one. Call home as soon as you’re out of the ADS building.’

  An hour and a half later, as Waters and Serena were cross-checking their two accounts of the meeting with Joe Ritz, Tom Greene took a call on his mobile. Waters couldn’t hear what the detective inspector said to Freeman but moments later the phone was on speaker and they were all listening to the conversation.

  Denise Sterling was saying, ‘…we’re as certain as we can be that Michael Wortley is working here. We didn’t show the photo because Mr Davies hasn’t met him in person, and we didn’t want to involve anyone else, but Wortley is using his own surname. We think that’s because he’s on the official payroll, so he’s had to give them his National Insurance number. He started in July, been working for them for a couple of months.’

  Freeman indicated to Greene she was leaving it to him, and then she was writing notes for herself on one of the station-issue pads. Greene said, ‘OK. Anything else? Did you see his file?’

  ‘Yes, and we’ve got a copy. We thought you might ask that, sir…’

  Waters saw a couple of surreptitious smiles exchanged at that.

  Denise went on, ‘Mr Davies printed it himself. Wortley seems to have a new mobile number for us to chase. There isn’t a vehicle number in the file. Wortley’s been given one of the company vans for his present job.’

  ‘Which is what?’

  ‘He’s doing nights at the leisure park in Hunston. Not somewhere I’m familiar with but John says it’s the old funfair. Wortley is doing four twelve-hour shifts a week, four nights on, three nights off. As far as we can tell, he’s there on his own, with an occasional visit from a supervisor.’

  Waters could see the gap as clearly as Greene and Freeman – this was Michael Wortley, it had to be, but still they hadn’t actually set a pair of eyes on him. Freeman couldn’t say to Harry Alexander, we have plenty of evidence he’s working for the ADS Group in Hunston, sir; it had to be one hundred per cent certain and that meant seeing him for themselves.

  Denise Sterling was speaking again – ‘…but we have a problem, sir. The firm have an address in Hunston for Wortley, but it’s the wrong one. Mr Davies was being extra helpful. He typed the address Wortley gave them into his online maps to show us where it is and it doesn’t come up. Wortley wrote…’

  There was a pause while she checked, and everyone in the room was now watching and listening. Freeman leaned back in her swivel chair and folded her arms.

  ‘…he told them 12 Queens Close. There’s a Queens Gardens and a Queens Drive but no Queens Close, even though the post code is a correct one. Mr Davies was a bit annoyed. I think he thought it looked bad for a security company with us in his office and wrong info on his employees. We told him not to worry, it was probably just an error and we’d check it out ourselves.’

  Tom Greene said, ‘I’ll check again myself. Are you on the way back?’

  ‘Sir. We’re about half an hour away, just left Lakenham.’

  ‘All right. But if we don’t have Wortley’s address… We might need to ask when he’s next on shift and get sight of him there.’

  Waters heard voices then, John Murray saying something and Denise sounding as if she might be stifling a laugh. Then she said, ‘He’s not working tonight. He clocks on at the leisure park at six tomorrow evening.’

  Greene was busily writing that down but Freeman smiled and didn’t hide the fact when she caught Waters’ eye. This was a good team. They’d already worked out their DI, and the DCI wouldn’t be far behind unless she was at the top of her own game.

  The mobile phone number Wortley had given to ADS wasn’t on a contract. They might still be able to find it, but obtaining any information about it or to attempt trac
king it would involve an application through the proper official channels, and then they’d need to explain why Michael Wortley was the subject of such an application. This would have to go back to the Regional Serious Crime Unit who would then ask why Kings Lake were risking disclosing information about a highly sensitive investigation. Freeman concluded that the politics involved were not worthwhile.

  With Tom Greene, she studied the street map of Hunston. They found Queens Gardens and Queens Drive but as far as they could tell there never had been a Queens Close. She said, ‘We can work out something from this, though. We know he turned up in Hunston sometime in July. Assuming he wasn’t familiar with Hunston before that, these are street names he’s seen since he arrived there. The fake address is deliberate. Agreed?’

  Greene nodded and began making notes about what Freeman was suggesting. She watched and thought, this is necessary but not the best use of his time. Kings Lake had no history of providing senior investigation officers with a scribe, yet in some other forces it had become standard procedure. Major cases become complex ones rapidly now, and there ought to be a competent person combining the roles of secretary and personal assistant, recording every significant conversation and briefing. Freeman already had someone in mind for the next case – Priti Hussain, if she could be prised away from admin, would be perfect.

  Freeman said, ‘So, Wortley has been in that area. When he had to come up with an address, he used what he’d already seen. I wouldn’t mind betting he’s living somewhere close by, maybe even in Queens Gardens or Queens Drive. But he still doesn’t want to be easy to find, so he alters the address just enough.’

  Still scribbling, Tom Greene said, ‘It might be worth checking who’s living in number twelve at the two Queens locations. He’ll be renting. We could check rental accommodation in the area – the district council should have lists. Time-consuming, though. And it would mean alerting landlords who might then speak to him. If he has the van out of work, we could ride around and see if it’s parked in the area. If we find it, we could keep it under observation.’

  She considered that. Wortley was wary, and with good reason. He might spot a couple of people sitting in a car on a housing estate, and she didn’t want the job of explaining to Harry Alexander how she’d lost him. Watching the van, if they could find it, was plan B.

  ‘Tom, we know where he’s going to be tomorrow night and at what time. We’ll be less obvious in the town. Put a couple of people outside the leisure park so we can get a positive ID. A picture would be good.’

  Freeman stood up and was halfway back to her own desk before she turned and said, ‘And best not Denise or John. I know it’s a million to one but if he saw them anywhere near ADS today, he’ll take flight if he sees them again. Let’s not underestimate Mr Wortley.’

  Long ago, Waters had learned to switch his mobile to vibrate during meetings and briefings. Even then, Smith’s eye would often find the culprit, even if you sat very still and focused intently on whoever happened to be speaking, and when you finally looked in his direction, the single eyebrow would be raised a fraction of an inch. So when Waters finally checked this afternoon, he wasn’t entirely surprised to discover that Miriam had replied to his reminder about tomorrow night. She had written Looking forward to it. What about Ben, though?

  He left the investigations room and no one took any notice, which was a welcome change from Detective Inspector Simon Terek’s way of doing things – there you felt the need to put up a hand like a third-year pupil asking to go to the toilet. Both interview rooms were empty, and looked likely to remain so now, he reflected – their investigation had been brought to a halt by someone else’s, someone with a lot more clout even than the redoubtable Freeman. Don’t get into stick waving, Smith used to say, because there’s always someone with a bigger stick.

  He had to ring her, naturally – this could not be done with a text. Their first actual date and now he had to cancel. Postpone, not cancel, he told himself, and if she agrees to that, maybe it’s a good sign. There were four rings before he heard her voice saying, ‘Hello. You didn’t need to call. I’m sure you’re busy. A text would have done.’

  Then she said to hold on while she walked into the rear of the shop – he heard Patsy saying something in the background – before, ‘Is this about Ben? Is there a problem?’

  No, he said. He knew the club’s part-owners, and they wouldn’t have any sort of issue with a guide dog, never mind the fact the law was clear on the matter.

  She said then, ‘I know what the law says. I also know how awkward things can still be. It’s best to check. And I don’t have to bring him anyway, as long as I’m with someone who…’

  Miriam sounded softer and a little more open, and he could tell she was pleased he’d called, which made what he had to say more difficult. After he’d explained about tomorrow night, that he had to work and that he couldn’t be sure what time he would finish, she said, ‘Oh, it’s all right. Honestly, I understand. We can do it some other time.’

  He hadn’t wanted to disappoint her but was disappointed himself that she didn’t sound at least a little the same way. “Some other time” was too vague and elusive. Waters had the sense something important was about to slip away from him.

  He said, ‘Friday. I can take tomorrow night’s hours off the end of the week. I’ll finish early on Friday. There’s a good French restaurant in town. I’ll book a table and then, if you feel like it, we can go on to the club.’

  He wasn’t sure he could do this – he wasn’t even, if the truth be told, quite sure who had said all this. He wasn’t by nature someone who talked first and thought second. He wasn’t a gambler either, but he had just bet almost everything on a single number and the wheel was about to stop spinning.

  After a pause which was only natural but which seemed nonetheless designed to produce an exquisite pain, Miriam said, ‘Does this happen a lot? I don’t mind, but I’d like to know.’

  ‘I suppose it depends on what you mean by a lot. It does happen. It’s just the nature of the job.’

  ‘Not the nature of the people who do the job?’

  He didn’t think so. But hadn’t Smith warned him about this years ago? You’re looking for someone exceptional, Chris. I was lucky – most coppers aren’t, not in love… And it was true; the divorce rate for police officers is almost double the national average, and if you include broken relationships, it resembles an emotional war zone. It was why, at least in part, he had failed with Clare and with Janey Cole. Katherine didn’t count, obviously, Katherine was a law unto herself, but-

  Miriam said, ‘That restaurant – is it Sandrine’s?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘I’ve been there. All right, Friday. Let me know what time. And thank you for calling instead of texting. You wouldn’t have liked my reply if you’d done that. Ben says he’ll have the chicken in white wine sauce.’

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Waters thought, there cannot be many such places left in all of England. Over the seven-foot wire mesh perimeter fence, he could see the top of the helter-skelter, still painted red and white, and the upper half of the big wheel that wasn’t really very big at all. The roof he could see to the right of those belonged to the ghost train. Nothing had altered since his childhood except the scale – now it looked small and shabby and a little hopeless, as if the very idea of innocent fun belonged to a bygone era. As a child, he had been brought to Hunston a few times, before the family began to take holidays abroad, and he knew he’d been in that funfair. They never had let him ride on the ghost train.

  He was parked on Seagate Lane, which runs the length of the long side of the funfair, some sixty yards from the main entrance, and that should be more than enough. He had experience in surveillance himself and he knew Clive Betts had worked extensively in covert operations; they’d agreed the position and the angle when they arrived at a little after five o’clock on the Tuesday evening. Michael Wortley wasn’t due to start work until six but one
always prepares the ground thoroughly before a job like this one.

  Betts had gone off to do the walk-around, and he was coming back now, strolling along the pavement that runs adjacent to the fence, the wind flapping open his cheap nylon zipper jacket, hands in jeans pockets, an old pair of trainers on his feet and a straw trilby on his head. He looked for all the world like a seaside holiday-maker who had got his dates wrong. When he was level with the main gate, Waters lifted the Lumix bridge camera, pushed the digital zoom button and took a couple of pictures of him.

  Back in the passenger seat, Betts said, ‘There’s an emergency entrance or exit right down at the far end but it doesn’t look as if it’s been opened in years. He’s got to come in through the main gate.’

  Waters turned the camera so that Betts could see the screen, and said, ‘I think this is good enough. The light should still be all right at six o’clock.’

  Betts said, ‘Jesus! You could’ve warned me – I look like my grandad!’

  ‘It certainly looks like your grandad’s hat.’

  Betts took it off and examined the offending item, before he said, ‘No, this belongs to Jack. He’s into the whole amateur dramatics thing. We’ve got a roomful of costumes and props.’

  ‘Jack’s your partner?’

  Waters might not have asked the question if he hadn’t already known the answer – Serena had told him a week ago, before the squad was officially forty-eight hours old. Betts looked directly at him but there was no sign of resentment, and Waters sensed he’d made the right call.

  ‘Yeah. Civil partner, four years.’

  ‘What does he do, apart from amateur dramatics?’

  ‘He’s an architect. Has his own practice designing eco-friendly dwellings.’

  Waters was deleting the images he’d taken of Betts. He said then, ‘That sounds like a future-proof business – it’s the way things are going.’

  ‘It is, and he does pretty well. As long as you’re not an eco-nut, though… I get enough of that at home. I go along with it for a quiet life. Sir.’