DI Giles BoxSet

by Anna-Marie Morgan

  “Well, they’d give up, eventually. Go back to their rooms and crawl into bed. She reckoned one or two of them had tried walking in on her when she was having a shower.”

  “Was she scared?”

  “Not really. They tended to give up without forcing it.”

  “Did any other females go through this?”

  “We only have a few girls in the regiment, and yeah, I think all of them have had the same thing, and not just from the officers. A few of the lads as well. When they’ve got a few beers inside them. Thankfully, most of the lads do their drinking in Chester and not on the base.”

  “No wonder she thought you were a breath of fresh air.” Yvonne handed Wayne his mug, which he accepted with a sad smile.

  “She and her family were afraid of something. Can you tell me what that was?”

  “No.” He said it a little too quickly.

  “Kate was investigating something, wasn’t she?” The DI held her breath.

  Wayne stiffened. “Was she?” he asked, eventually.

  “There have been other deaths in strange or suspicious circumstances. Deaths at the base. Kate was looking into them. Unofficially.”

  “I wouldn’t know about that.”

  “About the deaths? Or about Kate’s looking into them?”

  “About anything.” He downed his tea in one.

  “You mean you won’t talk to me about it.”

  He shook his head.

  Yvonne gave him her card. “Please call me if you change your mind.”

  “What will I do without her, miss?” He asked the question almost like a schoolboy might ask his teacher.

  “Stay safe. Until we catch Kate’s killer, I recommend you not go anywhere alone.”

  “Even on the base?”

  “Perhaps especially on the base. Stay with people you can trust. And if you change your mind, call me. Information you may have could help to catch Kate’s killer. The sooner the killer or killers are caught, the better for everyone. Yourself included.”

  Wayne nodded and walked with the DI to see her out.

  “When are your parents back?” she asked.

  “Anytime soon,” he answered, while holding the door open for her.

  “Remember to call me if you need to talk, Wayne.”

  “Yes, miss.”

  “Did you get anything?” Dewi asked, as she climbed back into the car.

  “I did, actually. Not everything I wanted, but he gave me something to work with. We’ll get clearance from the DCI and re-visit Dale.”

  “What about Dick and Harry?”

  Yvonne pulled a face. “You may have to keep them occupied while I do a bit of digging. Think you can manage it?”

  Dewi’s answer was a big grin.

  She turned to stare into the distance. “Before we go back to Dale, I’d like to talk to Kevin McEwan’s parents. His death was the first, in 2009. His mum and dad may give us more names. They may even have suspicions about who was involved.”

  “Okay.”

  “I don’t want anyone at the barracks to know we’re looking into other deaths in any serious way. Let them think we’re only interested in Kate’s death. That should make it a little less dangerous for the deceased’s friends.”

  “I’m with you.”

  “I’ve managed to find Mr and Mrs McEwan, from the inquest records. We’re going there to talk to them.”

  “Right.”

  “We don’t need to go too far. They live in Builth Wells. They’ve been trying to get their son’s case reopened.”

  “Let’s do it.”

  7

  Scotty's parents

  The drive to Builth took them on windy back-roads, through Dolfor, Llanbadarn Fynydd and Llandrindod Wells, going south. Builth lay on the Brecon road. A place of rolling hills on the edge of the Brecon Beacons. They followed the road over the stone bridge and round to the right. Dewi studied the street map while Yvonne followed the sat nav. The DI smiled at this old-fashioned quirk in her DS. She quite liked it.

  They found the black-and-white, semi-detached house with relative ease. They stood side-by-side, as the DI rang the door bell.

  Gordon McEwan opened the door, dressed casually and wearing slippers. He’d been expecting them, since Dewi had phoned earlier. He welcomed them in and called to his wife, Victoria. Rich smells of stew or casserole wafted through the house, teasing the two detectives’ stomachs.

  They removed their shoes, and Gordon showed them through to a medium-sized lounge. They sat on a floral-patterned sofa and saw photographs of Scotty in his uniform, on the sideboards and mantlepiece.

  Yvonne took out her notebook. “Thank you for seeing us, Mr and Mrs McEwan.”

  “Please call us Gordon and Vicky.” Gordon’s smile was stiff, though his eyes betrayed an intense interest. “We’re so glad you’re reopening the case into our son’s death. We’ve been waiting so long.”

  The DI and Dewi exchanged glances.

  Dewi cleared his throat. “Gordon, we have to tell you this is not an official reopening of Kevin’s case. We’re investigating the death of another soldier, killed just before Christmas. Private Kate Nilsson. Same regiment as Kevin.”

  “Then why?” The couple appeared confused, their excitement dissipating in sighs.

  “It’s possible there’s a connection. We would ask you to keep that to yourselves for the moment, lives may depend on it.”

  Gordon perched on the end of his chair, elbows on his knees, hands clasped.

  Dewi continued. “We believe Kate Nilsson was conducting an unofficial investigation into your son’s death, and the deaths of other young soldiers, when she was killed. Obviously, we don’t yet know if she was killed for that reason, but it’s a possibility.” Dewi stopped, looking towards the DI.

  Yvonne turned her gaze from Gordon to Vicky and back. “Tell us about Kevin. He was known as Scotty, wasn’t he? What was he like? Was he happy in the army?”

  “Scotty was an orphan. His real parents were killed, when he was only five, in a road traffic collision. He spent most of his formative years in and out of care homes. He’d had some brushes with the law and could be a bit wild. We adopted him when he was thirteen, after a year of being his foster carers.”

  “Where was he from, originally?”

  “Wrexham, his family were from. He was at a care home there between the ages of seven and eleven. Sunnymede, I think it was called.”

  “Sunnymede,” Yvonne repeated, getting everything down in her pocketbook. “When did he make the decision to join the army?”

  Vicky took over the telling. “He was fifteen when he first talked about the army. Several of his friends had either joined or were thinking of joining. There’d been a series of adverts on the telly which drew them in. For kids like Kevin, it was a way of belonging after spending so long feeling like an outsider.”

  Yvonne nodded. “I can see how that might be the case. But you’d given him a loving home. Did he not feel like he belonged with you?”

  “He did.” Gordon brushed his trouser legs with his hand. “But children who spend so long in care can become institutionalised, almost. They are used to more going on. I think he was bored a lot of the time. Always craving excitement. To us, the army represented a chance for him to straighten out and see the world. Have structure and discipline in his life. And, of course, he would then progress to have a career outside of the army, using the skills he’d acquired along the way.”

  Yvonne pursed her lips. “You certainly couldn’t have foreseen what happened to him.”

  “No. We didn’t see that coming. Not in a million years.”

  “The army investigation concluded that your son had taken his own life. Was he depressed?”

  Gordon shook his head, exasperation creeping into his voice. “Look, Scotty had his ups and downs like all teenagers. But he wasn’t suicidal. Hell, he’d told us about a lass he’d met only a couple of weeks before he died. He was excited. He’d been back to Wrexham for
a party with some of his old friends. He’d been on a high. We spoke to him three days before he died. He said he was happy and that things were really coming together. He liked the regiment. Took pride in its history. He was looking forward to serving in Afghanistan.” Gordon looked down at his shoes. “He never got the chance.”

  “They said he’d been drinking the night of his death,” Yvonne said, gently. “Do you think that might have impacted on his emotions?”

  Victoria levelled her gaze at the DI. “His friends said, when they found him, there were indications that others had been there.”

  “I read about that.” Yvonne nodded. “But if there were any traces, they were gone when investigators got there.”

  “Yes, because someone saturated the ground. Who was it that destroyed all the evidence?”

  “You don’t believe it was the rain?”

  “No. No, we don’t believe it was the bloody rain.” Gordon sent saliva projectiles out over the carpet. “A light drizzle does not do that. Someone turned the hoses on it. Someone wiped all traces.”

  “Who found your son, Gordon?” The DI’s voice remained calm and soft.

  “Tom. Tom Rendon and a chap called Stephen Whyte.”

  “Tom Rendon? The Tom Rendon who was also alleged to have committed suicide?”

  “That’s the one.” Gordon bought both palms down on his knees with an emphatic slap.

  “I see.” The DI, still scribbling madly, frowned. “What about this Stephen Whyte? Is he still with the regiment?”

  “Yes. I believe he’s a corporal, now.”

  “Corporal Stephen Whyte. I think we’ll be talking to him as soon as we can.”

  “Be careful.” Gordon’s eyes were earnest, as he flicked his gaze between Yvonne and Dewi. “There are powerful people at work. People who do not want the cases reopened. God knows, we’ve hit enough brick walls to know. And received anonymous letters warning us off.”

  “Do you still have the letters?”

  “No. I burned them.” Gordon stood, hands on hips. “Whoever these people are, they’ll do anything to prevent the truth coming out. Anything.”

  On the way back to Newtown, Yvonne was pensive.

  Dewi yawned. “You gonna find Stephen Whyte first?”

  “If I can. The difficulty is knowing where to start. I think we need Jones and Clayton to do a bit of digging. We need to be careful, Dewi.”

  “Ma’am?”

  “We’ve been narrowing our focus. That’s dangerous. Let’s widen it again. Find out if Kate had boyfriends, dates or liaisons. Find out what else she was into. Just because she was investigating suspicious deaths doesn’t mean that was why she was killed. We mustn’t miss anything.”

  “This is a good lead, though.”

  “It certainly is, Dewi. It certainly is.”

  Yvonne punched the numbers into her mobile and waited, holding her breath. If she didn’t get him now, he’d be back at the base, and setting things up would be that much more difficult.

  A gruff, older voice answered. “Ron Hedges.”

  “Oh, er, hello. I was looking for Wayne Hedges. Could I speak to him, please?”

  “Who’s calling?”

  “You can tell him it’s Yvonne. We spoke the other day. He’ll know who I am.”

  “I’ll go see if he’s available.”

  She could hear the TV in the background. The sound of voices, of feet pounding down the stairs.

  “Wayne Hedges.”

  “Hi, Wayne. It’s DI Giles. We spoke the other day.”

  “I know. What’s the matter?” he said, his tone clipped.

  “Nothing’s the matter, Wayne. I wanted to ask a favour. I need your help.”

  “Oh.” He sounded disappointed.

  “It could help me solve your friend’s murder,” she added.

  “What d’you want me to do?”

  Yvonne bit her lip. “Wayne, I think it’s important I speak to Stephen Whyte. Do you know him?”

  There was a pause, then, “I know of him. I don’t know him that well. I’ve seen him around. You mean Corporal Whyte?”

  “Yes. Corporal Whyte. Can you set it up? Can you ask him if he’ll meet me? Tell him he can choose the place and time. I’ll be there.”

  “What shall I say it’s about?”

  She sensed a reluctance, but pressed on. “Tell him it’s to talk about his friends Scotty McEwan and Tom Rendon.” There was silence on the other end of the line. “Wayne?”

  “What if he won’t speak to you?”

  “I’ll cross that line when I come to it. Please tell him it is very, very important. And, Wayne?”

  “Yes?”

  “Please don’t tell anyone else about the meeting. Ask Stephen to keep it to himself. Given what happened to Kate, I don’t want either of you put at risk. Is that clear?”

  “I’ll try.”

  “Good man. Wayne, do you still have my card?”

  “Yes, I have it.”

  ‘Call me when you’ve set it up, please.”

  “It’ll be when I get back to the base. You know I can’t contact him until then.”

  “I know. And, remember, keep it under your hat.”

  “Got it.” There was a click at the other end and he was gone.

  She took a couple of deep breaths and headed off to find Dewi. She found him flicking through the County Times, in the office.

  “There you are.” He put the paper down, his eyebrows raised.

  “Sorry, I was making a phone call.” She could see he wanted more. “I’m trying to set up a meeting with Stephen Whyte.”

  “I thought we were heading to Dale tomorrow?” Dewi frowned. “Get a look in those boxes.”

  “We are. I won’t know, until it’s arranged, when the meeting with Whyte will take place.”

  Dewi relaxed. “Ah, I see. Okay. Well, we’d better contact Dick and Harry. We’re under strict instruction to have them with us, whenever we’re at the barracks.”

  Yvonne pulled a face but giggled at the cheeky reference from her wicked sergeant.

  She caught sight of the main headline in the Times, ‘Heinous Murder of Kate Nilsson. Still no leads’, and sighed. “Right, Dewi, get Dick and Harry on the blower and let’s get to Chester.”

  “Right, you are, ma’am.”

  8

  Things are hotting up

  Dick and Harry’ met them as soon as they arrived at the base. Suited and booted, they made Yvonne feel dog-eared and jaded. She shook hands with them, as Dewi caught up after parking the car. She hadn’t wanted them there, but was determined to make the best of it.

  Harry was frowning.

  “Journey okay?” she asked, wincing at how lame that sounded.

  “It was.” Harry nodded. “Only one hold-up. A lot better than last time. You’ve been in Private Nilsson’s room before?” He asked the question but appeared to already know the answer. His gaze wandered.

  “Yes. Once before. Three days ago. Why?” She kept her gaze steady.

  “I just wondered why the need to go through it again?” His expression stayed neutral. He wasn’t giving anything away.

  “Kate’s storage boxes, under her bed. We didn’t get a chance to go through them last time.”

  “You think there’ll be a clue in there?”

  “You’re military police. What do you think?” she answered, tartly.

  He looked down at his shiny shoes and the DI relented.

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be rude.What I meant was, I don’t know, but I want no stone unturned.” She could have told him about the numerous photos Kate had taken of her room, but chose not to. She still had no idea who she could trust. Dick and Harry were still regarded with suspicion.

  At first glance, Kate’s room appeared untouched since their last visit. On further inspection, someone had shut the open window and there were one or two dead flies on the window ledge.

  It was a tight squeeze, fitting all four into Kate’s tiny room.
/>   Simmonds was standing a little too close. The DI tapped Dewi on the shoulder and, when Simmonds wasn’t looking, she traded places with her DS.

  They donned latex gloves and pulled out the two cargo boxes from under the bed.

  Old photographs, spare clothes and spare bits of kit, including a helmet and books. They examined each item, Dewi taking photographs with his mobile.

  Yvonne mused that the last person to touch these things may have been Kate. She wondered what the soldier would have been thinking, as she organised her things in these boxes. Surely, not that she would be dead before Christmas. The DI shuddered. Dewi placed a hand on her arm. Perhaps he’d been thinking along similar lines.

  The DI’s hands were gentle - reverent- as she handled those things. It pained her to think that when they’d finished, Kate’s room and belongings would smell of Dick Simmonds’ aftershave.

  It was then that she saw it. A yellow, manilla folder. She reached for it, only for Simmonds to beat her to it. He opened the flap and stood. The DI stood also, attempting to get a look. Simmonds moved it away from her.

  “Can I see?” The question was as forceful as she could make it, without seeming overly aggressive.

  Simmonds shook his head. “We’ll need clearance. There’s material in here with a classified stamp on it. We’ll have to take this.”

  “Wait, we’re investigating officers, we’ve a right to see it.” Yvonne’s eyes blazed, her hands firmly on her hips.

  “And you will.” Harry’s voice was gentle. “Just as soon as we’ve had the okay from the MOD and senior officers.”

  With that, the yellow manilla folder disappeared into Simmonds leather satchel.

  “How do we know it won’t be tampered with?” She couldn’t hide her frustration.

  “You’ll have to trust us,” Thornton answered. “We’re investigating officers, too.”

  The DI’s mobile began bleating in her pocket. She checked the screen. “It’s my sister, she apologised. “My mother is home from Australia.” She gave Dewi a look and ducked out of the room. She made her way to where she’d seen Dewi go to the toilet on their previous visit.