14
Interference from above
The DCI looked up from his paperwork, as Yvonne knocked and entered.
“How did it go yesterday?” he asked, his eyes wandering her face, his voice soft.
“Like wading through treacle.”
“Sit down, please.” Yvonne did as she was told.
“What do you mean, like treacle? Do you mean they aren’t cooperating?”
“No, I don’t mean that. They are cooperating, to a degree. It’s just…” She turned her gaze to the window. “There are things they are not saying.”
“Who’s not saying what?”
“Everyone in this investigation.” She stopped her thousand-yard stare and brought her eyes back to his. “I feel like everyone is holding something back. And that goes for both army and civilians.”
Llewellyn sat back in his chair, his gaze soft and steady.
“I’ve been asked to pull you off the base.” He sighed and ran a hand through his hair.
The DI noticed he had a little more grey at his temples. She sat forward, fixing him with a fierce stare. “What do you mean, pull me off the base? You mean stop me going to Dale?”
“Yes.”
“What? Why now? Have I touched a raw nerve? Who asked you to pull me off?”
Llewellyn sighed. “The Chief Super.”
Yvonne froze, her mouth half-open. “Why would he do that?”
“You were only supposed to be going there once or twice, remember?”
“But, I’ve just started getting somewhere.” She put a hand either side of her head, as though to shut out what he was telling her.
“I thought you said it was like wading through treacle, anyway? Concentrate on the crime scene and the weapon used. More villagers should be questioned, those around Llydiart.”
“Uniform can do that.” Yvonne gave him a defiant look.
“I’m sorry, I’ve had my orders.” Llewellyn’s face was flushed, his eyes downcast.
“They got to him, didn’t they? I’ll bet this is Forster’s doing, on the behest of his NCOs.”
Llewellyn shook his head. “I doubt it was Forster. He would have come to me, direct.”
“Then, who? Who would want my investigation to flounder?”
“Yvonne, that’s a bit dramatic, isn’t it? Like I said, you can continue with the crime scene. I’m not taking you off the case.”
“What about Stephen Whyte?”
“Who?”
“Corporal Whyte. What about his death? I’m convinced it’s linked. Someone is following my progress on this investigation.”
Llewellyn picked up his ball-point, clicking the top in and out. “Cheshire are investigating Whyte’s death. What else can you do at the base? What would you want to do?”
“I want to go through Kate’s things, again. Before her barrack room is cleared. She’d been gathering evidence of wrong-doing, I’m sure of it.”
“Okay. Okay. I’ll speak to Forster.”
“Thank you, sir. Can I ask another favour?” The DI rose from her chair.
“Go on.”
“Can you find out, from the chief super, who it was that requested I not go back to the base?”
He nodded. “I’ll try, but if it’s someone from the MOD, then-”
“I know, shadowy figures. But please try.”
Tasha was waiting with Dewi in the coffee area, when Yvonne returned. Tasha supressed a giggle at the size of the DI’s scowl.
“What’s up?” Dewi asked, blowing air through tight lips.
“We keep going. We’ve obviously got someone rattled.”
“You wanted to look at Kate’s photos again.” Tasha blew on her hot coffee, not quite sure how to react to Yvonne’s mood.
“Llewellyn is talking to Forster, trying to get permission for us to access her room one last time.” Yvonne looked at her friend. “Do you need to get back to the cottage?”
“I do, for now, but I can be back again tomorrow. If I can be of any use.”
“That would be great.” Yvonne’s scowl dissipated and she even managed a grin. “Dewi and I are hoping to go back to Dale tomorrow. Would be good if you could come with us.”
They cleared away their mugs and were about to get on when the DCI strode in, looking sheepish. “I’m sorry.” He drew alongside the DI and rubbed his chin, as though searching for the right words. “Kate’s barrack room has been cleared, Yvonne.”
“What?”
“The room has been cleaned, ready for a new occupant.”
“But we hadn’t finished.”
“I’m sorry. But you know the room itself wasn’t a crime scene. They couldn’t keep it like that forever.”
“But she hasn’t even been gone two weeks. I made it clear I hadn’t finished.”
“It’s not a shrine, Yvonne. Look, I know you’re disappointed. Forster said to give you his apologies.”
“Well, they’ll help solve the case, of course.”
The DCI sighed, frustration clouding his features. “I’d like your interim report by the end of the week,” was all he said, before turning on his heel and heading down the corridor.
“What now?” Dewi pouted, tucking his chair under the table.
“We go to Kate’s parents. Seek their permission to go through whatever the army returned to them.”
“Righty-oh. We’d better make a move then.”
“I’ll see you tomorrow.” Tasha gave the DI’s hand a squeeze. “I hope you find what you’re looking for.”
Someone had cleaned Lars and Hayley’s home to the point of obsession. All traces of Christmas were gone. The glass and metal shone and all wood surfaces smelled strongly of polish. Not a speck of dust could be seen anywhere.
Lars had let them in before he left the house. Yvonne and Dewi took off their shoes in the hall. Even so, the DI worried in case she caused a mess somehow.
Hayley came to see them, still wearing an apron and rubber gloves. Eyes puffy, looking in need of a good sleep, she pulled two chairs out for them in the kitchen.
“How are you doing?” Yvonne’s question was almost a whisper.
Hayley’s eyes searched her face, as though to check if the DI was truly looking for an answer, or merely asking to be polite. “I’m existing, Inspector. I’m getting through the days any way I can. I loved her from the moment she was an extra line on my pregnancy test.” Hayley looked away to the window. “I can still feel her little head on my shoulder and smell her sweet baby hair. I nursed her through sickness, injury and disappointments. I cheered with her through all her triumphs. My baby. My baby girl. I’m a mom. It’s who I am. It’s who I’ve been since I first held her in my arms. I feel lost. I am lost. But I can still feel her cuddled against my chest.” Hayley looked back at the DI.
Yvonne nodded. “Those memories are so precious. That’s a part of her you’ll always have.”
“Have you found her killer?” Hayley interjected. “I need that. That’s what’s keeping me sane: the thought that her killer will soon be found and punished.”
Yvonne exchanged glances with Dewi. “That’s what we’re here to talk about, Mrs Nilsson. We understand the army have returned some of her things.”
Hayley turned to fill a kettle. She put it on the stand, switched it on, and turned her attention back to the detectives. “We got a box back from them yesterday. I haven’t opened it, yet. I haven’t felt ready.”
Yvonne nodded her understanding. “May we look inside the box, Mrs Nilsson?”
Hayley leaned her head to one side. “Do you think there’s something in there that will help you?”
The DI rubbed her chin. “I think there could be, yes.”
“Then go ahead. Whatever helps.”
“Thank you.” Dewi held the cupboard door open for Hayley, as she removed cups from it. She hadn’t asked them if they wanted tea. She just needed to do something.
Yvonne understood this and accepted her cup in that spirit. Ten minutes later, she and
Dewi were climbing the stairs.
“Where did Lars go?” Dewi asked, in hushed tones, once they were inside Kate’s bedroom.
Yvonne didn’t answer, she was taking in the fact that Kate’s was the only room to have escaped the obsessive cleaning. Again, this was no surprise to her. She felt tears prick her eyelids. “Let’s not interfere with anything except the box,” she said to Dewi.
In the box were a few books, the wall photographs, trinkets, jewellery and perfume. Eclectic stuff from Kate’s barrack-room drawers and boxes.
Yvonne hunted for the photo she had looked at with Tasha - the one showing Kate, Wayne Hedges and Stephen Whyte at the James Bond Casino night. She found it almost at the bottom of the box.
Smiling faces. Smart, beautiful clothes. Happiness. Behind Kate, was a giant card, the ace of hearts. On the table, an open bottle of champagne. The three of them appeared merry. There was nothing else that stood out. And yet, Tasha had felt sure there may be significance to the photo, due to its positioning in the ones Kate had taken of her room.
She turned the frame over. The card in the back was held in with tape. She looked up at Dewi, a warning of what she was about to do, and began peeling back the tape.
Dewi shot a glance towards the door, before his eyes came back to what Yvonne was doing.
Although she felt guilt about the intrusion, the DI’s curiosity drove her on. The tape came off with relative ease and she gently teased the back out of the frame. Underneath, was a sheet of paper - one that would have been with the frame when it was purchased. She lifted it. A torn piece of notepaper floated to the floor. She rushed down to grab it, almost bumping heads with Dewi, who’d had the same urge.
Inside the frame, was a small photograph of three teenagers. They were roughly thirteen to fourteen years old. The picture reminded her of another she’d seen in Kate’s room. The one of Kate, Wayne and Stephen on a street somewhere, a large cafe-restaurant in the background. The photograph she was holding was perhaps older, judging by the cars parked along the street.
Dewi handed her the paper which he had beaten her to. “Helen Reynolds, Scotty McEwan and Tom Rendon, 2003.’
Yvonne looked at Dewi. “This is a photo of the three soldiers whose deaths Kate was investigating. The three suspicious deaths.”
“I know. I’d been wondering why Kate had chosen those particular deaths to investigate. She obviously felt there was a connection.”
“So, they were friends as children. Long before they joined the army.”
“Right. Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”
“That we ought to look into their childhood backgrounds?”
“Exactly.” Yvonne nodded vigorously.
“But not tell Llewellyn.” Dewi pulled a face.
“Not yet, no.”
“There’s something else.” Dewi pointed to an underlined name, on the other side of the torn paper. T.H. Davis. This was in the same writing as the names on the front. It looked like Kate’s hand, judging by the writings they had seen in her room.
The letters in the name appeared thick and uneven, as though someone, presumably Kate, had drawn and redrawn them - doodling. Perhaps, deep in thought.
“Who’s T.H. Davis?” Yvonne frowned. The new name confused things.
“Maybe another soldier who died?”
“Or another soldier she suspected.” She placed the small photo and paper on the bed. “Let’s fix this frame back together. We’ll keep the hidden inserts and take them with us.”
“Damn, I should have brought an evidence bag in from the car.’ Dewi tutted at his forgetfulness.
“It’s okay.” Yvonne pulled one out of her pocket. “I’m not sealing it up just yet. I need to think. We’ve got to go back to Dale. Speak to Forster.”
Dewi wrinkled his nose. “Llewellyn’s going to love that.”
“You’re right.” Yvonne paused at the door. “I’ll speak to Thornton. Ask if SIB know who T.H.Davis is. If he’s on the base, or an ex-soldier, they should be able to trace him.”
“And if he’s dead, which I hope he’s not,” Dewi added swiftly, “then that probably makes him even easier to trace.”
There was one more photo the DI wished to take with her, and that was the one of Kate, Wayne and Stephen. The one taken in what appeared to be the same street as the hidden photograph. She quickly found it amongst Kate’s things, and placed everything else back as she had located it. “Come on, Dewi. We’ve got work to do,” she said, before exiting down the stairs.
“You want me to what?” Thornton’s voice boomed down the phone.
“I’d like you to help us trace T. H. Davis. We think he might be a soldier on the base. Or maybe an ex-soldier. Can you help us?” Yvonne bit her lip, half-expecting Thornton to decline. There was an agonising few seconds silence.
“Okay, I’ll help you. How far do you want me to go back?”
“The late nineties should do it. Alive or dead, I need to know.’
“What are you up to?”
“It’s just one of the lines of our enquiry,” she said simply.
“This person a suspect in Kate Nilsson’s murder?”
“Possibly.” Yvonne cleared her throat. “Could I ask you to keep that thought to yourself for now?”
“Understood. Why?”
“The last person who helped me was murdered.” She said it for pure devilment. Thornton grunted on the other end but he didn’t question further.
Following the call, she turned to her DS. “Dewi, we should speak to Sam Walters again, about Helen Reynolds.”
“Find out about about her life as a teenager?”
“And her connection to Scotty and Tom, when she was young.”
“I’ll fetch our coats.”
Yvonne fumbled in her jacket pockets for her car keys. “I have an idea.”
“Oh, yeah?”
“It’s something Scotty’s father, Gordon McEwan, said to me when I interviewed him last time. He said Scotty had grown up in care homes and foster care.”
“So you’re wondering if that’s how they came to know each other?”
“Could be worth asking. Sam would most likely know if Helen had spent time in care.”
“Let’s go.” Dewi finished getting his coat on and they headed out the door.
There was a lot more happening on the site, as they entered the Newtown bypass works. Yvonne made her way to the office in search of Sam Walters while Dewi parked the car and then played catch-up. She was glad of her wellingtons.
He was taller than she remembered. He looked at her as though speaking to her was the last thing he needed at that moment.
She slowed her pace as she got closer, and saw his disappointment.
“I’m sorry.” She grimaced. “Is it all right to talk to you now?
“Well I…” He looked down at her muddy wellingtons and crumpled skirt. His face softened. “All right. Will it take long? Only, I’m expecting a delivery of slabs any time now and we’re on a deadline.”
Yvonne shook her head, just as Dewi got to them. “It won’t take long.”
Sam led them over to the pre-fab office. He climbed the steps and creaked the door open. “So, how can I help?”
Yvonne took out her notebook. “I wanted to ask a couple more questions abut Helen.” Her pen refused to work. She sucked the end and tried again, circling the tip round and round on the paper, desperate for it to respond, to no avail.
Sam took one off his desk and handed it to her. “Here,” he said, between clenched teeth.
She took it and thanked him, feeling awkward.
“What was it you wanted to know?”
Yvonne cleared her throat. “Sam, did Helen ever discuss her childhood with you?”
“Err, yes. I guess she did. Once or twice.”
“Can you remember what she said?”
He blew out a puff of air, while he thought about it. “You know, I can’t really remember that much. She grew up in North Wales. Was an only chil
d.”
“An only child?” Yvonne felt a knot of disappointment develop in her stomach. “She had a family, then?”
“She told me she remembered her mum but not really her dad. I think he left, not long after she was born. He didn’t return. She couldn’t remember anything about him.”
“I see. What about her mum? Were they close?”
“Very. But her mum passed away when Helen was six years old.”
Out of the corner of her eye, Yvonne saw Dewi move forward to the edge of his seat. “What happened to Helen? Did she go to relatives after her mum passed away?”
“Not that I remember, no. She went into care, I think.”
The DI paused in her note-taking. “Can you remember where she was, when she was in care, Sam?”
“No. No, I can’t remember. I know she was in a care home for a few years before going into foster care.”
“Did she ever talk to you about friends she made in care?”
“She did, yes. In fact, she’d stayed friends with a few of them. They made a pact to enlist together. They played war games together as kids.”
“So, they enlisted together?”
“They did, and they remained best buddies.”
“Do you remember who the friends were?” Yvonne exchanged glances with Dewi.
“I remember one of her best friends being Scotty. She was devastated when he killed himself.”
“You knew about that?”
“Well, yes. He hung himself after a few drinks.”
“Did you ever doubt that he killed himself?”
“Not really. Well, I had no reason to doubt it.”
“What about Helen? Did she doubt it?”
“She was gutted. I remember her being hurt, disappointed and angry. She didn’t want to believe it. She wanted to believe that he’d have talked to her, first. She’d been pretty vocal in her suspicion that he had been attacked.”
“Did she say who she thought might have attacked him?”
“Not that made any sense. I mean, she pointed the finger at a few people. She probably ought to have been disciplined, but everyone understood she ranting because she was in pain. His loss hit her hard. Actually, that was probably one of the only times when she wasn’t harshly disciplined for something.”
DI Giles BoxSet Page 68