DI Giles BoxSet

by Anna-Marie Morgan

  Yvonne nodded. “Seeing his quarry in the flesh, so-to-speak.”

  “And this was his first crime scene. Again, a place where he'd be most likely to make an error,” Tasha added.

  “Was there anything else that stood out for you?” Yvonne asked the question of Dave.

  “Only the children's teddies. All neatly lined up on the shelves, along with their tiny blankets. I've got small children. They've got all sorts on their beds, and in them, when I tuck them up at night.”?

  Yvonne nodded. “Why did he take them away? That is the question. Why remove them from sleeping children, before killing them?”?

  He'd brought night-vision binoculars, as the night was dark and moonless. If anyone approached along the coastal path he'd see them long before they saw him.

  Thomas Childs was out again. Late-night business function. He wouldn't be back any time soon. Marion Childs was alone, downstairs. The children, Christian and Margot, were asleep in bed.

  He watched her potter around her kitchen, a half-finished glass of wine on the counter-top. That was her second. She was probably feeling quite relaxed and a little less aware of her surroundings. He felt safe, out here in the darkness, with enough distance between himself and the house for him to need binoculars.

  He heard a sound off to his left and scanned the horizon with his naked eyes. Seeing nothing, he took a look through his night-vision glasses –? heart thumping. A dog. He hoped it didn't come over. Seeing it head back off in the other direction, he turned his attention back to the house.

  Mrs Childs must be listening to music. She'd picked her wine glass up again and was swaying to and fro. This was more like it. He'd wait an hour or more sometimes just for moments like these. It was another tortuously humid night. Marion Childs had tied her hair back in a ponytail. He imagined the sweat beading on her upper lip, as he watched her brush her fringe back, as though to cool down her forehead. It was almost too much. He felt the stirring in his trousers but chose to do nothing about it. Sometimes it was good just to suffer the tease.

  He liked the dress she was wearing. Flowery and sleeveless. There was an innocence about her. He liked that. The second glass of wine was now almost gone. His heart skipped a beat as she turned fully to the window, still swaying. It seemed like she was looking straight at him, though he knew she was not.

  She made a rapid turn, moving swiftly to the island. Her mobile phone must be going off. She put it to her ear, sitting down on a bar stool –? her back to him.

  Distant voices shook him from his reverie and he put his night vision to his face once more. Youngsters. Students probably. He began his retreat in the other direction, sure that they could not see him. Even if they could, he knew they wouldn't be able to see him clearly. That was the trouble with a university town. Students got everywhere.

  17

  Yvonne had her wellies on. Dewi was still in his shoes. He pulled a face at her when they became covered in mud from an unexpected puddle, the other side of a stile they had just climbed over.

  The DI let out a giggle. “Oops. I did warn you.”

  “Yeah. Thanks.” Dewi's feigned impatience made her laugh again. She stopped laughing, however, as they approached the group in country tweeds, caps and waterproof jackets –? the expensive kind.

  Intermittent shots rang out and hurt her ears a little more, the closer they got. One of the group spotted them and tapped the others on the shoulder, one of them mid-aim. The shot rang out and the clay pigeon carried on spinning to the ground, intact.

  “You were expecting us?” Yvonne directed this at the shoot organiser, Evan Morris. She flashed her ID around the group, taking a perverse pleasure from the act.

  She'd spoken to Evan the day before, about attending one of his summer shoots. She just hadn't told him when. This was the shoot she knew Mark Grantham would be attending. What she hadn't known, and what took her aback right now, was that Ryan Smith would also be attending. Two prominent CEOs in the same field. Given what she knew of their history, she hadn't expected them to be sharing the same air.

  “Are you following me, Inspector?” Mark Grantham put the gun over his arm and walked forward, standing over her. It was times like this she wished she were a few inches taller.

  “I hadn't thought of it like that.” She cocked her head to one side. “But now you come to mention it.”

  He put one hand on the folded shotgun. “It can be dangerous walking onto a field when men are shooting.”?

  It felt like a threat. Yvonne opened her notebook and took a step forward, into his personal space. “Is that a masonic ring you're wearing?”?

  Grantham took a step back, handing his gun to a guy who was obviously an aide of some kind. “You want to speak to me?”? He said the words with a force which betrayed his anger, only just held in check.

  “Yes. My DS would like to speak with Mr Smith.” She turned to Ryan Smith, who reluctantly handed his gun over to the aide and walked towards Dewi.

  “Will this take long? Only, we've got lunch organised, and I've got a business meeting this afternoon.”? Ryan rubbed his gun shoulder.

  Yvonne turned to Smith. “Business? I thought this was leisure-time for you.”

  “I can combine both,” he stated, calmly.

  “Oh, come on. Let's do it. Then these plods can be on their merry way.” Grantham gave the DI a sneer which dared her to answer back. She bit her lip. He tipped his cap back on his head. “?Go on then, officer.” He said, as they separated off from the others. “What you investigating now? Any kittens been run over in the area, have they? Or has someone scratched the paint on someone's car? Sorry, not me. I wasn't there.”?

  “Most people have a helpful attitude towards the police, Mr Grantham.”

  “I'm not most people. And yes, the ring is masonic.”

  “Are you a member of a lodge?”

  “I am. What's that got to do with anything?”

  “Just showing interest, Mr Grantham.”

  “I've never known the police ask a question just because they were interested. Look, I'm a very busy man. If you've got something to ask me, or even a reason to be here, then give it to me straight. Don't pussy-foot around me. I can't stand time wasters.”?

  The DI bit her lip again. This man really was obnoxious. “Have you ever been to Maesbury?”

  “Maesbury?”

  “Maesbury March.”

  “No idea where that is.” He said the words as though they were bits of dirt, to be flicked off his jacket. “?Why do you ask?”

  “What about Montgomery? Or Welshpool?”

  “Montgomery? Yes, I've been there. I've been there on my own and I've taken my team there - on team-building weekends. Why?”?

  “A female from Montgomery was raped in Welshpool three weeks ago. She described a man who could have been you –? tweed cap, smartly dressed, waterproof jacket - who'd showed an interest in her in Montgomery.”

  “Half the other men in this field, and in many other fields around the country, are dressed just like that.”? He stated the last loudly, inviting laughter from the other men. Dewi looked over from where he was interviewing Ryan Smith, some hundred yards away.

  “The victim stated that the suspect announced he was into money.”

  “What on earth...”

  “You were in the area at the time.”

  “And that's it? What kind of evidence is that?”

  “I came to ask if you'd attend a line-up.”

  “You don't like me, do you?” He sneered at her. His face tense. Teeth clenched. “This is persecution. Harassment. My lawyers will be all over you like a rash. By the time they've finished with you, your career will be shredded.”? His eyes spat venom at her.

  “Fill your boots.” Yvonne gazed steadily back at him. “I'd still like you to attend a line-up.”?

  “Is that all?” He made as though to turn away from her.

  “You're still on friendly terms with Ryan Smith, then?”

  “Why woul
dn't I be?” His voice was filled with exasperation.

  “I understand he left your company under a cloud.”

  “I see you've done your research.”

  “It's what I'm paid to do.”

  “Well, you're chasing the wrong guy.”

  “I'll be the judge of that.”

  He turned on his heel and strode away. She didn't attempt to stop him. She'd finished with him. For now.

  Dewi joined her soon after.

  “How'd it go, ma'am?”

  “Not great. How about you?”

  “Smith was wearing a mason's ring, too.”

  “I think they all were.”

  “Could be significant?”

  “Maybe. I don't think we should get hung up on it, though. Masons do some good work. Charitable work.”?

  “They also help cover for each other.” Dewi shook his soggy feet.

  “Yes, perhaps.” It was just approaching lunchtime and Yvonne was already tired.

  As they crossed the field, back towards the stile, the shooting began again. The first shot made the DI jump. Heart pounding, she walked a little faster away from the men and their guns.

  It was only once they were back at their car that they exchanged thoughts about the two men they'd just interviewed.

  Ryan Smith had given Dewi a hard time, but he could see from her face that the DI had probably had the worst of it. He felt outrage at the open threat issued by Grantham. Smith had fallen short of such a gesture, but denied ever being in either Maesbury March or Montgomery. Both men had been wearing far too many clothes for either Dewi or Yvonne to know if they smelled of expensive soap.

  Back at base camp, DC Clayton greeted them at the door. “Morning, ma'am. The DCI has asked that you go see him in his office as soon as you can.”?

  Yvonne looked at Dewi with raised eyebrows before looking back at Clayton and thanking him for the info. She headed to Llewellyn's office immediately, breathing deeply before knocking hard.

  “Come in.” He sounded unusually stern. She rubbed her hands down her skirt, straightened her hair, and pushed open the door.

  “You wanted to see me, sir?”

  “I've had the superintendent on the phone, not ten minutes ago. He's not happy.”

  “Oh? Why's that?”

  “The Police and Crime Commissioner has been bending his ear about your harassment of a prominent CEO. Care to enlighten me?”?

  Yvonne sighed and rolled her eyes. “Oh god, I'm sorry. I can explain.”

  “I think you'd better.”

  “I've asked Mark Grantham, CEO of Boxhall Investments, to come in for a line-up. I'll be asking the sexual assault victims to pick out their attacker.”?

  “What makes you think it might be him?”

  “Appearance, opportunity, and the money connection. Plus he did an endorsement last year of a brand of soap containing sandalwood.”? Yvonne hoped the information she'd gotten from Tasha, the evening before, would clinch it. Tasha was still helping with social media research, and the sandalwood soap adverts had gotten her very excited.

  Llewellyn studied her face for a few moments. “Okay, I'll back you,” he said, finally. “But the PCC is not a happy woman, and if he passes the line-up, I want you to leave the man alone. At least until you have hard evidence to back up an intervention.”?

  “He's trying to influence my investigation. Don't you find that a little suspicious?”

  “He's also a very busy man, and busy men don't have a lot of patience. People like that hate delays or unexpected users of their time. Their impatience spills over into complaints. Especially against police officers.”?

  “He's pretty high on my list of suspects.”

  “Promise you'll leave him alone for a while, if he isn't picked out of the line-up.”

  “I will, sir.” Yvonne headed for the door, turning just before she reached it. “Just for a while.”?

  She headed in search of Dewi, and found him munching on a tuna sandwich.

  “So, what did you make of Ryan Smith?”

  “Cagey. Very cagey. He denies being in the area at the time of the sexual assault on Tina Pugh.”

  “Hmmm. Anything else?”

  “He kept looking over at Grantham. Or you. Or both.”

  “Nervous?”

  “Hard to say. The man's a closed book. Like he's well-practised at hiding things from people.”

  “Interesting. I think those two men are knee-deep in something. I have no idea what, yet. But definitely in cahoots.”?

  “Smith wears a masonic ring, too.”

  “I'm organising a line-up for Tina and the other women to take a look at our CEOs. I'm not going to be popular, but I want both Grantham and Smith in that line-up.”?

  “You afraid there might be red tape?”

  “I've already had the DCI on my back. Grantham is going to make this as difficult for us as he can. Perversely, that just makes me all the more determined to get to the bottom of their business dealings.”?

  “Want me to get onto fraud squad at the Met?”

  Please.”

  “Will do.”

  Tasha drove whilst Yvonne flicked through notes and jotted down her ideas. It was a hot, beautiful, sticky day with just enough cloud to cast intriguing shadows around the mid-morning landscape.

  The plan was to park the car in Montgomery main square and hike up to the castle. Tasha had a feeling a killer might have used the ruins as a place to watch the Balls' house. The idea was to follow in his footsteps again, looking for the most likely place from which he might have stalked them. He may have left something there.

  The walk was steep but engaging, filled with the sweet heady scents of summer. Jasmine and honeysuckle. However, halfway up the winding road, negotiating the craggy outcrop, they began to regret the decision to walk. The humidity sapped their energy and one bottle of water was already gone.

  The sight of the walkway to the castle, over the long wooden bridge, filled them with relief. They paused on the bridge to look down at what would have been the castle moat. It was now only a dry indentation, with large rocks and boulders here and there along its length.

  As they continued along the slatted bridge, Yvonne wondered if they really were walking in the footsteps of a killer-stalker, and a shiver ran down her back. This shiver returned, intensifying, as they reached what was left of the castle gates and she read the heritage board, put their by Cadw. The story was of the woman in red - Maud Vras –? who, on the first of January in twelve eighty-eight, was murdered in the gatehouse by a rock thrown down onto her head. Apparently, Maud had gone there to reclaim a saucepan she'd lent to William of St. Albans, the deputy constable to the Castle. The jury believed William when he claimed that his robe had dislodged the rock by accident. Yvonne tutted to herself.

  “Want to share? “ Tasha came over to look at the board and Yvonne gave her the gist of the story.

  Tasha put her hands in her pockets. “Didn't have you on the case, did they,” she laughed.

  Yvonne didn't answer, she was still visualising the crumpled body of the woman in red.

  Once in the castle's inner ward, the views from the castle became apparent and were breathtaking. There was enough left of the walls and towers to give a good idea of how the castle must once have been. The ruin walls were low enough that anyone standing at them had an astonishingly uninterrupted view of the valley and the picturesque Shropshire hills beyond. More importantly, their killer could have used this place as stalking point. A pair of binoculars would have given him an extremely good view of the Balls' house.

  “Here. I think he would have stood here.” Tasha leaned on the rocky wall and made as though to hold binoculars to her eyes. Yvonne took a small pair from her bag and they took it in turns to view the house.

  “You can clearly see into virtually every window at the back of the house.” Tasha handed the binoculars back to Yvonne.

  “That's right. All except Tony Ball's study, which is hidden by the tree
.”

  Yvonne was looking for something – anything – that the killer might have left up here, but saw nothing. “?Someone must come up here cleaning around,” she said ruefully.

  “I think the Cadw Trust would make sure the ruins remain pristine. If your killer did come up here, whatever he might have left would have long been taken away.”? Tasha stepped back from the wall. “You were saying that Mark Grantham reported you for harrassing him.”

  Yvonne sat down on the grass. “He did. I've really rattled him. We're doing a line-up in a couple of days. Both he and Ryan Smith are in the area and will be viewed by the rape victims.”?

  “Nervous?”

  “Yes, but hopeful. I get the impression Mark Grantham is as slippery as they come. He's also controlling. Well, he's not going to control the direction of my investigation.”?

  “Hmmm. What's he got to hide?”

  “Exactly.”

  They continued their walk down around the outside of the castle walls, following the route the moat would have taken. There was no-one else around, but it was clear that anyone up here would be able to hear and see the approach of the others and, if necessary, beat a hasty retreat. The perfect place for a watcher.

  “I doubt your killer will turn out to be Mark Grantham.” Tasha took another bottle of water from her bag and took a long swig, handing it to the DI.

  “I get that he's a busy CEO, Tasha, but he's regularly in the area, has his own aircraft, and is very chummy with the airport staff at Welshpool.”

  “I'm not saying he hasn't got something to hide, regarding the financial losses of the victims, but he's not local. Your stalker chap would be given confidence by knowing the area thoroughly. He'll be from these parts and, I suspect, live not too far from here. Whoever he is, he will have time on his hands. Time to kill...if you pardon the pun. More time than your Mark Grantham is likely to have.”

  “Unless he has a deputy he can entrust the business to, whenever he needs to.”

  “Well, that should be easy enough to check. If his company was investigated by the Met, they'll have that sort of info.”?