“He asked me where his big jacket was. He said it’d be windy up there.”
“And he didn’t say where ‘up there’ was?”
“No.”
“Okay. Well, that’s something, anyway. Sounds like he was meeting someone out of town.”
“That’s the impression I got.”
“Did he say how long he’d be gone?”
“He said he’d be no more than a couple of hours.”
“So, couldn’t have been that far away.”
“No.”
“Okay, well, you’ve been very helpful.” Yvonne looked from Mary to Jim and back again.
“Promise us you’ll look into it?” Mary’s eyes pleaded.
“I will. I promise.”
As they left the Walters’ home, Yvonne turned to her sergeant. “Dewi, where’s the most likely place you might go to do a big drug deal, if you were going out of town and were expecting it to be windy?”
“Honestly?”
“Yes.”
“Well, probably a few places, but the Dolfor Moors comes to mind.”
“The Dolfor Moors?”
“There’s minor road with no markings that goes over the top of the hills between Dolfor and Llanbadarn Fynydd. It runs for about ten miles through the wilderness. Only the sheep up there. The odd motorist uses it as a shortcut, but it’s not a great road. Pretty secluded, though. A good place for a meeting if you want it well away from people.”
“And, well away from CCTV cameras.” Yvonne nodded. “Come on, we’re going up there.”
30
Meeting place
They Parked their car on a dry piece of ground, just off the narrow farmer’s road. As they got out, Yvonne could see modern windmills off to her right, and to her left and right, fields of highly-grazed grass. “I see what you mean about desolate,” she said to Dewi, as he joined her.
“Imagine it at dusk or after dark. You’re right about it being a pretty ideal spot to carry out a deal, if you didn’t want to be observed.” Dewi scanned the horizon.
“So, where would they have parked?”
“Well, that’s the problem. They could have agreed to meet up any where along this stretch, or even further along. But, after dark? You’re probably better off using a passing-point to park up. Otherwise, you risk getting your wheels stuck in the ditches.”
Yvonne nodded.
“There’s a passing point just down there.” Dewi pointed at the place where the road widened due to a tiny lay-by. “Could fit two cars parked up, there.”
“Let’s go check it out.”
They walked the few hundred yards to the passing-place.
Dewi pointed to the fresh tyre-tracks in the dirt. “Looks like someone’s been here, recently.”
Yvonne crouched. “There’s few different tracks. You got a decent camera on your phone?” She took out her mobile and took several shots from various angles.
“Want me to take some, too?” Dewi pulled out his mobile.
“If you can. Mine should be usable, but it’ll make sure that lab have something they can work with. We can compare these tracks with…” Yvonne scratched her head, frowning. “Kenny’s car.”
“Ma’am?”
“I don’t remember hearing anything about his car.”
“It’s probably at his parents’ house.”
“What does he drive?”
“Er, it’s a silver Suzuki, I think. Uniform could tell us. What are you thinking?”
“That, if he drove up here to do a drug deal and he was taken from here, then the perpetrator would have had to do something with Kenny’s car. Find the car, we find out what happened to Kenny.”
“I’ll get on it as soon as we get back.”
Yvonne attempted to skim a stone across the water. It hit with a ‘plump’ and sank. She shrugged her shoulders. “That says it all.” She gave a short, self-deprecating laugh.
Tasha’s stone skimmed the surface four times before sinking.
“You been practising?” The DI raised an eyebrow, an accusing smile softening her face.
“Just naturally talented.” Tasha giggled.
Yvonne turned her gaze back to the water. The sea was calmer than she’d seen it in a while. The main bay at Aberystwyth had been full of students and families enjoying the sea and promenade. The two women had chosen to make their way around the rock pools and stony beach at the bottom of Constitution Hill. A Saturday away from it all.
“Are you going to tell me what’s eating you? You’ve barely said a word for an hour.” Tasha walked up to her friend and, placing a hand under her chin, tilted her head up, to get eye contact with her. “I know that look. That’s the despondent look that comes over you when you’re at your wits’ end with a case. Is this the river murders? Is that case eating you up?”
“They’re not murders, Tasha. They’re most likely misadventures.” The DI sighed. “And, if they are murders, the killers are drink and drugs. Lethal combination.”
“Oh.” Tasha’s screwed-up face signalled her confusion. “What about all those doubts? All those things that didn’t add up?” Tasha grabbed another flat stone and skimmed it. This time it bounced only once, at an angle, before sinking.
“I think I was probably making more of things than was warranted.” Yvonne found a large, flat-ish rock and seated herself on it, staring down at her walking boots.
Tasha sat on the small shale, next to her. “So, the chalk numerals, the frightened voicemail, the lads wandering in places they didn’t need to be, and lack of injury of one victim who had supposedly fallen down onto large boulders, were nothing to be concerned over?”
Yvonne looked up at her friend, eyes flicking from side-to-side, studying her face. “You see? You saying it like that, gives me that feeling all over again. Like there’s more to this. But I’m the only one in my station who really thinks so.” She hesitated. “Well, I’ve got Dewi’s support, but I think I led him into believing there was more to it. You, too.”
“Listen.” Tasha shook her head. “You didn’t lead me into anything. You informed me of the facts you’d observed, some of which I was able to see for myself, and I drew the same conclusions.”
“You did? Really?”
“Hey, come on. I’m a grown woman and a psychologist. I think I am more than capable of making my own mind up, Yvonne.” Tasha frowned.
“I know.” The DI shook her head and put a hand on Tasha’s arm. “If only we had something more clear-cut. Something concrete. Something which shouted murder from the rooftops. Instead, it’s like I’ve been investigating shadows. One minute I see a killer, the next it’s a horrible accident.”
“Water makes everything more difficult, you know that. For example, there was a case a few years back, in the US. A young lad was thought to have accidentally drowned after a night out. It was nearly two years later that the accidental drowning was changed to murder. They found his own hair clutched in his hand, after someone had spotted it in evidence photographs. They figured that he must have been trying to grab at someone else’s hands, whilst that person was holding his head under the water. Instead, he grabbed his own hair. Like you said to me, deaths on land can be ring-fenced and properly studied, forensically. When a person dies in water, the body will likely have changed position; trace evidence will have been washed away and injuries created or disguised - blood from gashes washed away. It’s a forensic nightmare.”
“You’re right about that.” Yvonne sighed.
“But, I know you.” Tasha moved around to the front of Yvonne’s rock, looking up into her friend’s eyes. “I know your instincts are sound. I’ve also seen enough, myself, to think that if we don’t investigate these deaths, we may be doing a great disservice to the friends and relatives of the deceased. And we may seal the fate of future victims.”
“The DCI thinks there’s not enough to go on.”
“The DCI has one eye on his budget and the commissioner breathing down his neck.”
&nbs
p; Yvonne nodded.
“Let me profile him, this putative killer. Let me give him a shape. A form. Even if you can’t officially investigate, it’ll be something for you to look out for. And he won’t stop. Serial killers never stop. They have to be stopped. In fact, if he knows you’ve ceased looking for him, he may even up his game. The guy who left those Roman numerals wants notoriety, whether he’s aware of it or not.”
“Do it.” Yvonne nodded, her eyes earnest. “Put a profile together and I’ll share it with Dewi. If we have a suspect who fits, I’ll go again to the DCI.”
31
Killer takes an interest in the case
Man found in river thought to have taken his own life.’
He read the headline with disdain, cursing loudly as he continued down the column.
Kenny Walters, 26, died after overdosing on the illicit drug GHB and falling in the river near Newtown in Powys.
Ideas of The Pusher having come to Mid-Wales have once-and-for-all been dispelled by DCI Christopher Llewellyn. ‘It is only natural for people to be concerned when several bodies are found in the river in one year. However, I can reassure the community that this is not the work of some diabolical killer, but a combination of young men consuming too much alcohol and/or drugs and falling into a river, which has been higher than normal this summer and fast-flowing. A coming together of a disastrous mix of unfortunate circumstances.’
He skimmed several paragraphs.
The DCI finished by saying, ‘I would warn any would-be revellers to take care around our river paths. The water should be respected at all times.’
He kicked at the table leg, as he leaned back in his chair. On the one hand, they’d fallen for it hook, line and sinker. He should feel proud of setting everything up so well. But, where was the confusion? Where was the copper with some nouse, who would read the numbers he left on the trees and suspect there was more to it. Why wasn’t he in the middle of a mental chess game? Why was this all becoming too easy? And, why were the community so ready to give up on their fears that a serial killer was running amok amongst their young?
He pulled a large piece of chalk from his drawer. Time to leave the number five and then mix things up a bit.
32
Permission for leave
Yvonne climbed the stairs two-by-two, her brain still mulling over the river deaths, despite her having little time to devote to them. She was rubbing her forehead, as she entered CID and almost collided with Chris Halliwell, who appeared to be hovering near her office.
“Are you okay?” She frowned, wanting not to be irritated, but irritated nonetheless.
“Ma’am.” He cleared his throat. “Can I have a word?”
“Er…” She opened the door, signalling for him to go inside. “Yes, of course. Go ahead. What can I do?”
“I’m so sorry, I’ve come to request leave.”
“Leave?” She ran her eyes over his loosened tie, his hand-combed hair and the sweat on his upper lip. “It’s very short notice. Is everything alright? Has something happened?”
“It’s my daughter. She’s been taken into hospital with a severe asthma attack. I’d really like to be with her if at all possible.”
“Oh God, I’m so sorry.” She rushed over to him, placing a hand on each arm. “Of course, you can have as much leave as you need. Which hospital is she in?”
“She’s in the Royal Shrewsbury, ma’am. Her mother is with her, but I need to be there. We nearly lost her, previously.”
Yvonne nodded. “I’ll speak to the DCI and let PC Hadley know you’ll be away a while.”
“Thank you. I did speak to Jenny, to let her know the situation. We are in the middle of chasing up Nissan Micras and small four-by-fours, for the hit-and-run. I feel bad about leaving her to it.”
“Jenny’s a big girl. I’m sure she’ll be just fine. Anyway, I’m sure I can free up Callum or Dai, to help her out. You just concentrate on your girl and on getting her well again.” She gave him a warm smile. “Is there anything you need from us?”
He shook his head. I’ll be driving straight there, as soon as I’ve got a bag together from home. I’ll fill in a leave request form.”
“Don’t worry about it, Chris, fill it in when you get back. The only thing I would ask…” She handed him her card. “Is that you call me and let me know how your little girl is doing.”
He smiled, relaxing his features. “I will, ma’am.” He dashed out of her office and down the stairs.
PC Halliwell climbed into his Mini, in the station car park, unaware that he was being observed. He continued unaware, as the tailing vehicle made a left into Park Street and on, following him to the Elephant and Castle public house, where Chris had his temporary accommodation. The young PC parked his vehicle in a small car park, to the left-hand-side of the pub, and ran inside to get his stuff.
His stalker, dressed in black, hood up, followed the shadows, along the wall separating the car park from the river path below. He took a rag out of his pocket and stuffed it into the exhaust of the Mini, returning to his car, to wait.
He’d gleaned all he could from the conversation at the pub, two weeks before. Had been told all about Chris’s daughter and her fight with illnesses. He’d been concocting his plan ever since. The most difficult part had been tackling the inevitable phone call Chris would want to make to his child’s mother. Aping a consultant over the phone was easy, but persuading a father not to contact the mother of his sick child was a little more tricky. He’d achieved it by saying that she never left her daughter’s bedside on ICU, and that her mobile phone had to be switched off so that it didn’t interfere with the equipment. Hence the reason he, the doctor, was calling. The policeman had been surprisingly easy to convince.
He didn’t have to wait long: about the time it took for a shower. Chris Halliwell came running back to the car park and straight to his vehicle. He had a tiny bit of trouble starting it, but got it running fine. It would be a while down the road, when it was getting dark, before the engine trouble would really kick in. It would require some improvisation, but improvisation was something he was very good at.
“Hey, can I help you? You got engine trouble?” He walked over to where Chris was holding a torch under his bonnet.
Chris bumped his head, as he pulled back. “Ouch. Ooh, that hurt. Er, yes, I’ve got warning signs on the dash and the engine’s sounding a bit off. Thought I’d take a look. It’s not a good time. I’m trying to get to the hospital. Hey…” Chris shone his torch at the other man. “Don’t I know you?”
“Wow, you’re that young police officer on secondment at Newtown, aren’t you?”
“Yes.”
“We got talking the other week. Well, I didn’t think I’d be meeting you again, out here, like this.”
He tutted, shaking his head towards the engine. “Look, if you’ve got to get to the hospital, you should get going. I tell you what, why don’t I tow you to the nearest garage? You can drop your car off in their yard and phone them tomorrow to let them know it’s there and to ask them if they can take a look. In the meantime, I can drive you to the hospital. Er, that is, if it’s a local hospital?”
“Shrewsbury.”
“Wow, no way. I’m going to Shrewsbury. I go there regularly, to visit my mum. I can probably give you a lift back to the garage, in a few days, or whenever you need it.” He held his breath. How would he know that PC might be away a few days? He needn’t have worried, Chris Halliwell didn’t appear to notice.
“That is so kind of you. Listen, I can’t thank you enough. You’ll have to let me pay you something.”
“Hey, it’s the least I can do. Who you visiting in hospital?”
“My daughter. She’s had a severe asthma attack. She’s on a ventilator.”
“Right, let’s get your vehicle hooked up to mine and I’ll tow you to a garage.” He smiled to himself. This was too easy.
33
Tasha's profile
Tasha banged the knocke
r on Yvonne’s door as hard as she could. If the DI was in the kitchen, she often wouldn’t hear the front door.
Yvonne appeared in a large, checkered apron, with floury hands and face.
“What you been up to?” Tasha laughed at the mess her friend was in.
“I’m making stew. I just floured up the beef ready to fry and managed to split the bag of flour. And now, I’ve just trailed it all through the lounge.” Yvonne grimaced. “That wasn’t the plan.”
“Where’s the vacuum cleaner?” Tasha grinned.
Yvonne directed her to a cupboard in the hallway.
“Right. You go back to the kitchen and sort out your beef. I’ll get this lot cleaned up. It’ll be sorted in no time. Take this with you.” Tasha handed her a bottle of red.
Yvonne’s smile lit up her face. “Thank you, Tasha. This is why we’re mates.”
When Tasha had finished vacuuming up the flour, she washed her hands and joined Yvonne in the kitchen. “That smells fantastic,” she said of the beef, being fried with garlic and onions.
“Dinner’s going to be a couple of hours, I’m afraid.” Yvonne apologised.
“No problem.” Tasha shook her head. “I cam here early so that I could run my offender profile past you. See what you think and if you’ll find it helpful.”
Yvonne poured the seared meat into a large pot with the rest of the vegetables and stock, loaded it into the oven, and cleaned herself up. “Right, let’s have a look.”
Tasha poured two large glasses of the Cabernet Sauvignon and followed Yvonne through to the lounge, so that they could examine the profile.
The DI pulled over a coffee table and spread the paperwork onto it, along with an A4 notepad and pen. “Right, let’s have a look at your profile first.”
DI Giles BoxSet Page 83