“We’ve got a little advantage there, haven’t we? We’re cops. Right then – home, James! Hogarth slipped his car fob into Simmons’ hand. “Take me to the station. Let’s see what comes back on Grant Dawn’s Capri.”
“The station? On my day off?”
“Blame your father. Blame yourself. Blame me. Blame whoever you like,” Hogarth tapped his glass. “But until these units have worked their way out of my system we’re going to be stuck together like glue.”
“But it’s the weekend, guv.”
“Yes… makes a change, eh?”
Simmons sighed and they walked out of the Old Naval, old George giving them a wave as they headed out into the sunshine. Simmons gazed at the sparkling waves across the street below and imagined the alternative weekend he could have had. A nice stroll in the sun… Kaplan’s laughter in his ears.
“Move it, Simmons,” said Hogarth. “Southend nick isn’t going to come to us.”
***
“That’s an interesting aftershave you’re wearing there, DI Hogarth,” said PC Matthews with a look of mischief on his leathery old face. The big man was sitting at his desk in Southend police station’s open plan office, writing up his paperwork with the thoroughness of a man approaching retirement. A few other uniforms were in, but only those who had to be. The station was pretty quiet. Most of those on shift were out and about keeping law and order on the town’s busiest drinking day.
Hogarth grinned. “It’s my new breath freshener, Matthews. Like it?” he said with a grin. “Whisky and a hint of chicken.”
“Think I’ll stick with Listerine, thanks,” said Matthews, with a chuckle. Hogarth walked on towards the CID Room, while Simmons caught a few looks from the PCSOs.
“He’s gone plain clothes,” Hogarth explained. “Simmons is our new undercover action man.”
“Leave it out, guv,” said Simmons under his breath. Hogarth grinned at him.
Inside the CID room, Hogarth sat down and started to make some calls. Simmons logged into his work laptop. He scanned for case updates pertaining to the Paglesham incident. He didn’t expect much. It was very early days, so he only found a couple of one liners – the police equivalent of a breaking news headline without the full story. Hogarth reclined in his chair and called his way around a few local police offices. Basildon were involved because of their road collision expertise, though thankfully none of their CID. It took Hogarth all of ten minutes to speak to those in the know. With lager and whisky still oiling his system, Hogarth put the receiver down and smiled.
“What?” said Simmons, blank and resentful.
“I think Dawn’s Capri could have been tampered with. Too early to say for sure, but the brakes aren’t in a good way. The car is in right old state. The forensic collisions investigator is going to pull it apart to examine the cause behind the loss of control, but the front end of the car, especially the area relating to the brakes, show a load of damage and, I’d wager, not all down to hammering down that concrete slipway at Paglesham.”
“So it’s one-nil to attempted murder. Who did you ask?”
“No one who’ll tell I was asking. The Basildon lot know what I’m like. Turns out a PC Heybridge has been appointed road scene manager, a roads constable.”
Hogarth frowned.
“But Heybridge is a constable… if this PC Heybridge is running the show, it means they haven’t picked an SIO yet. With a man missing and probably dead, that’s pretty slack.” Hogarth paused and considered the state of DCI Melford. “You know, we might get lumbered with this case yet.”
“Why?” said, Simmons.
“It’s on the edge of our patch, and it looks suspicious. This will end up coming our way.”
“But PC Heybridge?” said Simmons. “I don’t know him.”
“Heybridge is a Castle Point and Rochford officer. I’ve seen the name, but I don’t know him either. He’ll be on this because it probably looked like a road incident.”
“Any other word on the case?”
Hogarth shook his head. “Standard witness statements taken – and there are very few of those. Detailed incident notes have been taken but not from all the main players. It looks like we’re already further into this than Heybridge is. I’d say we’re safe to keep turning stones on this for a little while yet.”
The office door opened. Hogarth expected Matthews seeking some more weekend banter, instead he saw DS Palmer. Hogarth arched his eyebrows in surprise, and his mood brightened to see a fellow soldier.
“Well, well, well…” he said. Hogarth eyed Simmons once in passing, issuing a look of caution, before he turned to face Palmer who looked just as surprised to see him.
“Turning into quite the party, isn’t it?” said Hogarth.
Palmer laid her black handbag on the table in the middle of the room and looked at Hogarth and Simmons.
“So what are you two doing here?”
“Days off are for wimps, Sue, as well you know,” said Hogarth. Palmer watched and waited for a more honest explanation.
“Maybe I got bored.”
Palmer still didn’t look satisfied. She put her hands on her hips.
“If you tell me why you’re here maybe I’ll tell you why I’m here too.”
Palmer turned her head away and rubbed the back of her neck.
“Show me yours and I’ll show you mine?” said Hogarth.
“Ignore him. He’s been drinking,” said Simmons.
“That explains the whiff on the air,” said Palmer. “Okay,” she started with the air of a confessional. “I was going to check to see if anything had come in on Devirim Atacan’s whereabouts. He’s still out there, guv. Just because we assume the man has people after him, doesn’t mean he won’t make time for revenge.”
Hogarth studied Palmer for her meaning. The name Atacan sounded alarm bells in his head and brought tension to his chest. But there was something in the way Palmer said it. A tone in her voice. He had the feeling she had given him only part of the truth. But then Palmer usually had a reason for any subterfuge. Hogarth knew he could trust her. His eyes lingered on hers for one last gleaning of the truth. Palmer blushed and Hogarth didn’t push any further.
“Fine,” he said.
“You aren’t dressed for work,” she said, nodding at Simmons, changing the subject. “Don’t tell me he roped you into this.”
“What do you take me for? A slave driver?” said Hogarth. “Leave it out. It was Simmons here who roped me into this one. Didn’t you Simmons?”
“You want me to tell her then?”
“Palmer should know,” said Hogarth. “There’ll be no secrets on this team.”
Hogarth’s eyes flicked to Palmer. She kept her face even and nodded at him.
“And there can’t be any digging into the Atacans without my knowing about it first. What is it? Are you worried they might come after you?”
“Not me,” said Palmer. “You’re the one who put yourself in the firing line. Twice, as I recall.”
Hogarth nodded slowly, as realisation dawned. “Don’t spend your spare time looking out for me, Sue. It’s a waste of time.”
“Probably. But you take too many risks without looking at the consequences.”
“I’ve been trying to tell him the same for the last hour or so,” said Simmons.
“You? You’ve been trying to cry off and go home,” said Hogarth. “Now do I run this show or do you?” he continued, with a playful glint in his eye, but his voice was forceful enough to let them know it wasn’t all a joke.
“Come on then. What are you up to now, guv?” said Palmer. Her eyes were blank and serious. She pulled a chair from the mini-meeting table and sat down.
“Okay.” He said, taking a deep breath. “So, Simmons. Where do we begin?”
Simmons sighed and rubbed his chin as he got ready to start the tale. He was about to speak when the office door opened again. Hogarth looked up to see Melford hanging in the doorway, a look of grim frustration etched so deeply
into his face Hogarth wondered if the wind had changed.
“Sir,” said Hogarth. They all stiffened in their seats. “Fancy seeing you here.”
“Yes, fancy,” said Melford. “But why am I not so surprised to see you?”
Hogarth scratched a fingernail by the corner of his mouth and stood up.
“I’m afraid I don’t know, sir.”
Melford nodded his head towards the corridor. Hogarth got the message. Melford wanted another private word. The DCI waited in the doorway until Hogarth stood up and passed him by. Melford’s deep dark eyes fell on Palmer and Simmons, issuing an old testament look of warning before he turned away and closed the door.
With the door shut, Palmer folded her arms and gave Simmons a look.
“I think you’d better tell me what he’s got himself into this time, don’t you?” said Palmer.
Simmons squirmed before he started. “Ah, well. It’s not exactly his fault this time. It’s like this…”
And the interrogation had begun.
***
“Catching up on the backlog, are we, sir?” said Hogarth, trailing Melford to his office. “I thought you’d be playing a round of golf on a day like this. But a man in your position, you bear the brunt of the paperwork, of course.”
Melford didn’t say a word.
The DCI led the way and opened the door of his office and bade Hogarth to enter. The antique wall clocks ticked at Hogarth as Melford walked in and closed the door behind them. DCI Melford remained quiet as he slid behind his desk and sat down. Hogarth saw Melford was wearing a crumpled red-pinstriped shirt. His ill-matched, paisley-pattern tie had been taken off, discarded on the desk, knot still intact. Melford leaned his head to one side as he studied Hogarth, resting his temple on one hand. Hogarth began to feel deeply uncomfortable under the gaze of the man’s dark eyes. He stood where he was, buttoned his jacket and took a breath. Melford stared a moment longer. It was a game Hogarth refused to play. Instead of playing stare outs, he eyed Melford’s desk. There was the notepad and pen, the pad face down. He recalled the piece of folded paper stuck deep in his inside jacket pocket. He’d barely had time to do anything about it. The Baba Sen case had eaten up his time, and then Liv Burns had been a welcome distraction. But Hogarth knew he should have done something about it by now.
“You know why you’re in here, don’t you?” said Melford.
“I’m only here today to look at some bits and pieces I’ve had on my mind. The Atacans are a problem. You know how it is, sir. After a while, you live the job.”
“Yes, I suppose you do. But do you live by the rules of the job, Inspector? If we’re being honest, I think we can both agree you prefer to flout the rules whenever you can.”
“You’ve made your opinion clear on my style of work a good number of times, sir.”
“And yet you keep doing things your own way, flying by the seat of your bloody pants. What do you want me to do, Hogarth? You’ve only been here a couple of years. Do I move you on? Push for a disciplinary again?”
“I’d suggest not, sir. At least not now. Southend needs a fully functioning CID.”
Melford nodded. “That’s true. So circumstances may require you to be given yet another pardon. But it can’t last forever, can it, Inspector? All these ways you disregard the rules, then running roughshod over fellow officers’ territory. It’s not acceptable in the least. Not in any walk of life.”
“Sir? Permission to speak freely?”
“Permission granted, but be careful now,” said Melford.
“I am one hundred per cent committed to bringing villains to justice. That’s what I do, sir.” Hogarth paused, and sighed. “Sometimes I push too hard or I have to work around certain… obstacles. But I get the job done. You can’t deny that.”
Melford blinked as if he hadn’t heard a word. He steepled his fingers and blinked at Hogarth.
“What’s your interest in the Paglesham incident involving Grant Dawn?”
Hogarth winced. “Grant Dawn…?”
Melford said nothing.
“I heard Grant Dawn’s old Ford Capri plunged into the River Roach at Paglesham last night.”
“So it appears,” said Melford.
“And Dawn’s missing – presumed dead?”
“Coastguard are still looking for him. His body could have been washed out to sea or he could have been beached on one of hundreds of empty mud banks out there. We can’t say he’s dead at this point.”
“But in all probability, sir…”
“Hogarth, what do you think you’re playing at?”
“I heard PC Heybridge is road scene manager… I don’t know the man. Is he any good?”
“Hogarth,” said Melford with a sound of warning in his voice.
But Hogarth cut back in. “This thing is more complicated than a simple road collision. We’ve got coastguard involvement, I saw the fire brigade were called in—”
“Yes, it’s a serious incident and police will be the lead agency,” said Melford.
“Yes, but Heybridge is a PC, sir…”
“And a more than capable one too,” said Melford.
“I’m sure he is. But if this Grant Dawn character has been missing since late last night, I expect you’ll be looking to appoint an SIO any time soon.”
Melford’s face darkened. “Hogarth! Your tone is nothing short of insubordinate!”
“Sir, my interest in the case is purely professional. I’m a police officer preparing to take on another important case. There’s nothing wrong in sizing up a problem before it lands on your desk, is there?”
Melford furrowed his brow and closed his eyes.
“You’re getting above yourself, making presumptions, and putting yourself into things I’d far rather you left alone. At this stage the man is still missing. That’s all.”
Hogarth’s eyes narrowed but he worked to keep his tone light. It was a difficult act.
“Is there something in this I’ve not understood, sir?”
Melford looked up, the glint in his dark eyes matching Hogarth’s. The men regarded one another in silence.
“I’m not sure what you’re getting at, Inspector.” Melford’s voice had turned croaky and dry.
“I’m not getting at anything, sir. I wondered that’s all. A PC is running the case, that’s not usual practice, is it?”
“It’s entirely feasible and it’s happened before,” said Melford. “Heybridge was the first man to respond, and he’s a collisions specialist.”
“But even so—”
“An SIO will be assigned,” said Melford, with force.
“Then assign me, sir – if it’s within your powers. I’ve looked into this already because I assumed it was coming our way. I’ve got a head start on anyone else, and I already know about Heybridge’s progress.”
“How?”
“Ways and means, sir. Colleagues talk. I’m sure you know how it can be done.”
Melford’s face darkened again.
“I’m ahead of him, sir.”
“You meddled in a live investigation. Sabine Dawn, a grieving woman, all but widowed, called the station to ask who you were and what was going on. You alarmed the woman. Heaven’s sake, Hogarth, the woman is in shock!”
“Those questions needed to be asked by someone.”
Melford’s face flitted between supreme discomfort and glimpses of rage.
“Will you ever follow orders, Inspector?”
“Of course, sir. I was being proactive.”
“You’re far too proactive. It’s your day off, and yet, you’re pushing into some random case which looks like a tragic accident. Why? It’s not your kind of case. So why are you asking to take it on? What’s your motive, Inspector?”
Hogarth felt a flutter of nerves prickle at his abdomen. With the spotlight turned on him, he wasn’t in the mood to be backed into a corner. Or for any more dressing-down.
“Motive, sir? I was intrigued. A man dies in a car crash and then disapp
ears. Maybe it reminded me of something. We uncovered an old life insurance scam – quite by chance – during the Club Smart murders last year, remember? This one carries echoes…”
Melford seemed to contemplate this, before he finally nodded. “Those instincts of yours never stop, do they, Inspector?”
“Afraid not. In fact, they can be quite compulsive sometimes.”
“That has the ring of truth,” said Melford.
It was another barb. Hogarth’s face tautened and the temptation to vent his emotions was rising too close to the surface… too quickly, for easy control.
“Are you okay, sir?” said Hogarth, knowing he was going too far. “You seem a little overwrought lately.”
“Overwrought?!” said Melford, stiffening.
“Yes, sir. Stressed, shall we say?”
“In this damned job, with rogues like you running roughshod all over procedure, process, and working etiquette, is it any wonder I might seem a little stressed?”
Hogarth held his tongue a moment and watched the emotions course over Melford’s face. The man was mixed up, a legion of emotions seemed to be fighting for dominance of his face.
“Sir,” said Hogarth. “I think you know I’ve not changed since I transferred into this station. But something has changed.”
Melford sat rigid, his eyes widening as he took in Hogarth’s meaning.
“Any more of those email bulletins from the brass doing the rounds, sir? The ones from the Met comms team?”
Melford screwed up his face. He stayed silent.
“The ones which told you about the threats posed to local businesses?”
“No,” said Melford, quietly. “Not lately. But I’m sure the threat is still live. We all need to be vigilant.”
“I’m always vigilant, sir. But there’s not been any more such trouble with local businesses for a week or so?”
“I’m keeping a close eye on it myself, thank you, Hogarth. At present, it seems the trouble has blown over. But what does it matter to you anyway? You made it clear that you never wanted to be involved.”
“Sir…” Hogarth recalled the two words on the torn shred from Melford’s notepad. He decided to take a further risk. It was dangerous, but already caught in the heart of a row with his superior, now seemed as good a time as any.
The Secret Dawn Page 8