Nothing To Lose

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Nothing To Lose Page 3

by Steven Suttie


  Rudovsky clapped her hands together. “Spot on! Nice one Bill, I think you’re on to something here. Have a ring around his family, his colleagues, see what his routine was around the running. Brilliant suggestion Bill, well done.”

  “Yeah, nice one Bill,” said Kenyon.

  Chapman headed back to his desk and picked the phone up from its cradle, looking pleased with himself. Rudovsky looked on, feeling glad that her little pep-talk had seemed to have worked like a charm in adjusting Chapman’s attitude towards her, and it would appear, to his work too.

  *****

  Inside Miller’s office, there wasn’t a lot of talking going on. Both of the SCIU’s senior detectives were reading through the case-notes from each of the betting shop attacks which had taken place over the past few weeks.

  Until today, each attack had been the responsibility of the local CID teams in their corresponding divisions. Bolton, Salford, Middleton and Stockport detectives had been dealing with each incident. Although “dealing with it” was a bit generous. Until now, it hadn’t been too high on their priority lists and in all cases, the attacks had been viewed as failed burglaries which had turned to vandalism. As no individuals had been hurt in any of the incidents, investigating these crimes had very quickly slid down their respective to-do lists. So far down in fact, that they weren’t on any to-do lists at all.

  Miller and Saunders were swapping files across the desk, as they finished each one, with very little conversation taking place. They both wanted to be one-hundred per cent clear on the facts that were known so far surrounding each of the five attacks.

  The silence was disturbed by the phone ringing. The DCI picked it up, whilst still reading a case-file.

  “Miller.”

  “Andy, it’s Dixon.” The Detective Chief Superintendent sounded flat.

  “Alright?”

  “No, it’s bad news I’m afraid. The little girl has just passed away. Thought you should know at the earliest opportunity.”

  Miller was silent. There had been hope all morning that the 6-year-old girl who had been rescued from the fire would make it, despite the burns and smoke inhalation. It also meant that the fire had now claimed three lives.

  “Shit…” said Miller, eventually. “The lass has died,” he said to Saunders. “Okay Sir, thanks for letting me know.”

  “How are things proceeding?”

  “Keith and I are just getting on top of the details. Once we feel that we have a good starting point, I’ll call a team briefing.”

  “And where does that leave the Hartley murder?”

  “Well, under the circumstances, I think we’re snookered. We’ll have to run them both.”

  “Okay, well, I’ve give you a few hours, and see what I can come up with in the meantime.”

  “Thanks Sir. Speak later.”

  Miller placed the phone down gently on the cradle. He was gutted. The little girl was a similar age to his own little girl, Molly. A sudden emptiness washed over him and he felt extremely moved by the devastating news, so moved in fact that he felt a stinging in his eyes.

  This update meant that a mother had lost her husband and her two kids today, in a fire which had been deliberately started in the shop beneath their beds. Her entire had been life ripped apart and left empty, but for an unimaginable hole of grief and despair. The fact that this fire had been started in order to damage a betting shop made it all the harder for DCI Andy Miller to comprehend.

  *****

  “Okay, I think I’ve got something,” said Chapman, turning around in his chair. The rest of the SCIU team stopped what they were doing and looked in the direction of their colleague.

  “According to his best mate Joe Carney, Graham followed a very regular routine. He’d finish work in Eccles town centre at six-thirty, get home about six forty-five, feed his cats and change into his running gear and then head out for an hour’s run. His usual route would set off from Monton, over Eccles Field, then he’d run up the East Lancs to Worsley, then back home along the canal to Monton. His mate says he was constantly trying to increase his time, and that’s why he stuck to that route.”

  “You were spot on Bill. Great work.” Rudovsky was very impressed.

  “His mate used to go with him a few nights a week, but he stopped about a month ago as Graham’s pace was getting too quick for him. He’s offered to take me along the route if I want.”

  “Did he say what days he ran?” Asked Worthington.

  “Every day after work. Then he’d shower and get his tea, usually about eight pm.”

  “Which means that we need to check all of the available CCTV for each of the nights leading up to the attack. All we need is the same person showing up and we will have the killer.”

  “And we’ll know that it wasn’t a random attack, too.”

  “Brilliant. This is the breakthrough we needed. We’ve already got the locations of every available CCTV camera around the crime scene. I think we need to get a hold of it all for the past few weeks, build up a picture of the whole route and see what other cameras he comes into view of. We know he’s well covered for the East Lancs Road, might be a big gap along the canal though…” Rudovsky was making notes as she spoke.

  “There are a few pubs along there, plus a few apartment blocks coming into Monton. There’s the Co-Op store at Worsley Road as well.” DC Helen Grant was familiar with the area.

  “Okay, I’m going to see the gaffer, see what he suggests is the best method of capturing this CCTV and reviewing it. Back in five minutes.”

  Rudovsky headed across to Miller’s office and knocked lightly. Miller looked up from the report he was reading and waved her in. The mood was flat, and the atmosphere was heavy.

  “Everything alright?” she asked.

  “No, not really Jo. We’ve been to a horrific job this morning. Young dad and his seven-year-old son were killed in an arson attack in the early hours.”

  “Aw fuck…”

  “And we’ve just learnt that the little girl rescued by fire officers has passed away in the last half an hour. The mum doesn’t know yet that her family are all gone.” Miller looked as though he was tearing up. Rudovsky looked down at the carpet tiles. She couldn’t think of anything to say. What could she possibly say to that?

  Saunders sensed that his colleague was speechless at that devastating announcement and decided to fill the dark silence. “So, these daft attacks against betting shops have now become a triple murder enquiry. And we’ve been given the case.”

  It was clear to Miller and Saunders that Rudovsky’s first thought was “how the hell are we going to manage that?”

  Miller decided to get straight to the point. “Keith and I are currently working out a strategy on how to deal with the logistics of this enquiry Jo. I want you and the team to get this Graham Hartley case boxed off, so please continue with that. I’m going to put forward a proposal to pool resources with the divisional CID departments from each crime scene and spread the workload evenly between each division. That will leave you and the team free to pursue the killer of Graham Hartley. Okay?”

  “Yeah, sure, that’s… well, that’s what I wanted to hear to be honest. Are you two okay though?” Rudovsky could see that both of her senior officers were upset.

  “Yes, we’ll be alright,” said Saunders. “Thanks for asking like.”

  “Yeah, thanks Jo. We’d been pretty confident the little girl was going to make it, so at least her mum would have had that…”

  “Fuck. Oh fucking hell boss, that’s just awful. Any idea what this is all about?”

  “Well… there’s a couple of theories we need to look into, but for now Jo, I don’t want to distract you from your case.”

  “Oh, yeah, sure. I can’t help myself can I?” Rudovsky smiled, attempting to lighten the mood. But it didn’t work.

  “So, did you want me for anything?”

  “Yes, God, I almost forgot. Chapman’s come up with an interesting line of inquiry.”

  �
��Go on.”

  “He’s discovered that Graham Hartley ran most nights of the week, setting off at a similar time, seven pm. He stuck to the exact same route. I’m just thinking that we could pull in all the CCTV from the past few weeks and check the footage and see if we can identify anybody who might have been sussing out Graham’s routine.”

  Suddenly, Miller seemed to come alive. “That’s brilliant. Even if it doesn’t present anything, that outcome will support the theory of it being a random attack, so we can’t lose. It’s perfect. Pull in the CCTV feeds from the street view cameras, local businesses and any domestic systems along the route. Work backwards from the day before Hartley was attacked.”

  “It’s going to be a big task, Sir.”

  “I know. But you’ve got Bill, Pete, Mike and Helen. That’s five of you… if you dedicate your day to this task alone you’ll make some progress. Tell them to log car registrations of any vehicles that seem to be loitering, screenshot all individuals riding bikes and everybody walking in the direction of Eccles Field in the thirty minutes leading up to Graham’s run.”

  “Sir.”

  “And all people leaving Eccles Field in the fifteen minute period after he’d entered, each day. This could be the case closed Jo.”

  “Great, okay. No point asking for additional support staff? Even if it’s just to retrieve the CCTV footage.”

  “I can ask Dixon if he can pull a few levers… give me ten minutes.”

  “Cheers Sir.”

  Chapter Seven

  “This is Sky News at lunch-time and our top story this hour. A father and his two children have been killed in an arson attack in Denton, Greater Manchester. As our footage shows, this was a devastating fire which has completely gutted the building where it took hold in the early hours of this morning. The names of the victims have not yet been released, but the police and the fire service are treating this incident as an arson attack which means that a triple-murder enquiry has been launched by Manchester City Police.”

  The footage on the Sky News screen was a very bleak and upsetting view of the burnt-out building, accompanied by the vibrating sound of the fire engines which were still in attendance. A crowd of shocked and distressed members of the public stood by the cordon line tape. Black soot covered the surviving wall at the end of the row of shops. The betting shop and the flat were unrecognisable now, there was nothing but a pile of burnt-out rubble in a heap with several fire officers still scrambling through the debris looking for evidence.

  “This scene of utter devastation and tragedy in Manchester is very hard to recognise as an end-terrace shop and living premises. But as you can see from the Google Street View on your screens now, until the early hours of this morning, this property was a very normal looking building which consisted of the Betadays bookmakers shop on the ground floor, with a neat and tidy looking flat above it.”

  The Street View picture really brought home the level of destruction, it looked as though a bomb had gone off at this address.

  “Our reporter Catherine Palmer is at the scene of this tragic incident. Catherine.”

  “Yes, I’m joined by Greater Manchester’s Chief Fire Officer, Nina Thompson. What can you tell us about the cause of this devastating fire?”

  The screen changed from the reporter to a shot of the very distressed looking fire chief.

  “Well, I’ve been a fire officer in Greater Manchester for almost thirty years and I can honestly say that this is one of the worst incidents that I have attended, and many of my officers are currently struggling to deal with the horrendous scenes which greeted them here in the early hours. As you can see behind me, there is nothing left of this property. Our investigations into the cause of this tragedy are ongoing, but I can confirm that this was a fire which had been started deliberately. Our initial examinations have revealed that a flammable substance which we believe to be petrol, was poured into the property through the shop’s letterbox and then ignited. From the way that the fire has spread throughout the lower floor instantaneously, we believe that a large amount of this substance was poured into the property, we’re thinking that something in the region of twenty litres was used, and then the vapours were allowed to build up for several minutes before the source of ignition was dropped through the letterbox. The sheer power and the resulting blast of the fire would have been similar to an explosion. This resulting explosion has quickly burnt through the suspended ceiling in the shop area and through the wooden floorboards into the flat above.”

  “And there was a family sleeping up there when this fire was started?”

  “Yes, that’s…” the Fire Chief’s voice faltered as she began to speak. The raw emotion was impossible to miss. “That’s very sadly the case, and as you are aware, lives were lost here this morning.”

  “What can you tell us about those people who were in the flat?”

  “Well, as you are probably aware, we can’t reveal too much information about that yet, as family and friends will obviously need to be informed. But there will be a press statement released with those details in due course.”

  “What role does the fire service now have at this scene, I see that several fire appliances are still here and dozens of officers are still working hard behind me in the rubble?”

  “Our priority here now is to check for any other people who may have been in the flat. This is a painstaking operation which involves moving the debris away from the scene in a very careful and meticulous way, whilst at the same time ensuring that structural integrity of the remaining sections of the building are not compromised. Once that section of the operation has been completed, our next task will be to organise the demolition of the gable end wall, so the road closures in place will continue for the foreseeable future until the scene of this tragic incident has been made safe.”

  “So, you anticipate that you will be here for a while yet?”

  “Yes, we’ll certainly be here for a couple of days at least.”

  “Chief Fire Officer Nina Thompson, thank you.”

  *****

  “Jo, have you got five minutes, please?” Miller was standing in his office doorway, summoning his DS over.

  Rudovsky stood and walked across the large office floor

  space and followed her boss in, closing the door behind herself.

  “Hi Jo,” said Saunders, without looking up from the file

  he was reading.

  “Sir.”

  “Right, Jo. I’ve had a chat with Frosty.” That was the

  forbidden nickname for DCS Dixon, in reference to his massive white eyebrows which made him look like he’d just been playing Santa at the local infant school and had forgotten to take them off.

  “Good news?”

  “Yes. I’m surprised to say. I think he realises that we’re over-stretched with having the two most serious cases in the region to manage with a skeleton crew. He’s instructed Salford’s duty Inspector to organise retrieving the CCTV data from all the addresses you want. So, I need you to come up with a list of all the cameras you want the footage from pretty sharpish.”

  “Already got it Sir. I can e-mail it across to you right away.”

  “Brilliant. Well, better still, send it straight to Dixon. How many addresses are we talking about?”

  “Over twenty in Monton, about seven in Swinton, four or five in Worsley.”

  “Okay. It’s a lot of footage to go through, though…”

  “It is, but you know that it only takes one decent lead and it’s not such a needle-in-a-haystack once you find summat and have a specific time-frame to work around.”

  “Good. Okay, well, without trying to put you under too much pressure…”

  “Oh, just a second… I don’t fucking like the sound of this!”

  Saunders laughed at Rudovsky’s tone.

  “…we really need a lead on the Hartley case. If you get something that looks tasty, I can flick it over to CID at Salford to do the donkey-work.”

  “What, han
d them all my glory?” Rudovsky looked a little disappointed.

  “Well, not that so much, it will just clear our desks so that I can incorporate all of the team into this.” Miller pointed down at the files on his desk, a photograph of the burnt out, collapsed building was sitting on the top.

  “What’s the plan, with this I mean?” Rudovsky nodded at the macabre photograph.

  “Keith and I are meeting with senior CID officers from each division that has had an incident involving a bookies. At this stage, temporarily I hope, we are going to be managing each CID department. This will be good for getting all the leg-work done, but I want to sack them off and use my own guys for stage two. So, now more than ever, I need something to materialise in the Hartley case. I’m relying on you Jo, all of my faith is being entrusted in you and your amazing detective skills. Me and Keith were just saying, only you can save us.”

  “Oh wind it in Sir! Or I’ll arrest you for gross insincerity!”

  All three of the unit’s senior officers laughed at Rudovsky’s plain-talking response to Miller’s over-the-top brown-nosing.

  “Right, go and do that e-mail for Dixon. Me and Keith are heading back to the crime scene to meet the other CID officers, not sure when we’ll be back.”

  “Why are you meeting them at the scene of the fire?”

  “The mobile incident room is there, plus a load of TV and press reporters are still on the scene so Dixon said it will show how involved we are while we stall the preliminary press conference.”

  “Okay, well, good luck with it. I’ll go and e-mail Frosty.”

  Chapter Eight

  The CID staff from the police stations affected by the betting shop attacks were waiting to meet Miller and Saunders at the agreed location, a few streets away from the scene of the previous night’s tragedy.

  Following some brief introductions, Miller led Bolton, Salford, Tameside, Stockport and Middleton division’s most senior detectives around the red-bricked terraced streets which led out to the cordoned-off road.

 

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