by Tim Ellis
***
Lake appeared.
‘You took your time,’ he said.
‘The professor called to confirm that the body in his freezer is that of Toby Flagg.’
‘And what did Burrows say?’
‘She has someone who can create a canal map with the information Sheldon is sending her.’
‘I would expect so. That’s what they get paid for. What about Flagg’s bank, credit card and phone records?’
‘She’s sent them to you by email.’
‘A fat lot of good that is while we’re out here in the middle of nowhere.’
‘She also said that they’ve found another DNA match, beside Flagg’s, on the black jacket.’
His eyes narrowed. ‘Really?’
‘It belongs to a man called Joseph Corbyn. He has a long list of conditional and non-conditional cautions, and penalty notices for sleeping rough on private property; drug abuse; criminal damage; being drunk and disorderly; and shoplifting.’
‘Low-level crime?’
‘Yes.’
‘Hardly a murderer who would hammer a wooden stake into another man’s chest.’
‘He could have been affected by drugs – hallucinations, or a bad trip – that type of thing?’
‘I can’t see it. Where did he get the stake and hammer from? Someone came prepared to commit murder. It doesn’t make any sense.’
‘Well, it proves he was around at the time of the murder. If he didn’t kill Flagg, he might have seen who did.’
Dark shook his head. ‘Not necessarily. Remember, there was a thirty-six hour gap between Flagg’s murder and the body being found. The killers could have been long gone by the time Corbyn found the jacket and transferred his DNA onto it. Call the Duty Sergeant and ask him to bring Corbyn in for questioning.’
She nodded.
He went back into the IWA office.
Sheldon was talking to the old woman.
Dark held his hand out.
‘What?’
‘The card.’
‘I don’t . . .’
He withdrew a pair of gloves from his pocket. ‘Do you want me to strip search you?’
Sheldon took Lake’s business card out of his trouser pocket and handed it to him. ‘The photographs would have been tasteful.’
‘So you said.’
He went back outside just as Lake came off the phone.
‘They’ll try and find him.’
‘Good.’ He gave her the card.
‘What?’
‘You should be glad I went back in there and retrieved it for you. He’s just a pervert who likes to take photographs of naked women.’
‘I wasn’t planning . . .’
‘Of course you were. He’d have persuaded you that without naked photographs in your tasteful portfolio it wouldn’t be complete. The lack of them would prevent you from getting the best modelling contracts. Not only that, what do you think your father would say when it was brought to his attention that his daughter was posing naked in the local rag? And then, of course, there’s the Chief Constable of Greater Manchester, your pal Chief Superintendent Henn, me . . .’
‘You?’
‘Do you think anybody would take you seriously as a detective when they realise you take your clothes off at the drop of a hat? Your apprenticeship would come to an abrupt end again. This time though, Henn wouldn’t blame me.’
‘I don’t see why people wouldn’t take me seriously.’
‘That’s why you’re still an apprentice. And besides, I don’t want to see you tastefully posing in the Manchester Evening News.’
‘Why not?’
‘I’m not even going to answer that question, Lake. Right, let’s go to New Mills and check out Flagg’s apartment.’
The car wouldn’t start.
‘Have you got breakdown cover?’
‘No.’
He went back into the IWA offices and had the old woman call a local garage.
A mechanic with a crooked nose and wispy blond hair, who obviously worked out, arrived fifteen minutes later. He changed the spark plugs and distributor bushes, and the car started first time. ‘They don’t make cars like this anymore. When was the last time you had it serviced, love?’
‘Serviced! Not recently, but it’s been running fine.’
‘If you don’t have it serviced regularly, it’ll break down when you least expect it.’
‘Okay. How much is a service?’
‘Depends on what the mechanic finds – anywhere between a hundred and three hundred pounds is likely.’
‘That expensive, huh?’
He handed her a card. ‘We might be able to cut a deal. Call me anytime.’
‘Thanks. You’ve been very kind.’
Dark had to pay the hundred and ten pounds for the call out and the parts.
They watched the mechanic drive away in his van.
Dark held out his hand. ‘Let me take a look at the card.’
She passed it to him.
He tore it into four and threw it over his shoulder. ‘Let’s go.’
‘Why did you do that?’
‘Are you happy to pay for your car to be serviced by having sex with the mechanic?’
‘That’s not what he meant.’
‘It’s exactly what he meant. I don’t understand how you can possibly be a detective when you can’t read people.’
‘I can.’
‘I haven’t seen any evidence of it so far. I’m beginning to think that your father used his position and influence to shoehorn you into a job that you’re completely unsuitable for.’
‘My father had nothing to do with it.’
‘You’d better start convincing me otherwise. Right, we’ve wasted enough time here – let’s go.’
***
A next-door neighbour, called Mrs Polly Olyphant, possessed a spare key that Toby Flagg had given her for emergencies.
‘Dead, you say?’
‘Murdered.’
‘What a terrible thing. And you want to go into his apartment to look for clues about who could possibly have murdered him?’
‘Something along those lines.’
‘I don’t see why not. It’s not really an emergency, but then I don’t suppose Toby is going to be bothered too much about you snooping around in his possessions, is he?’
‘No, I shouldn’t think so.’ He held out his hand for the key.
‘I’ll come . . .’
‘It’s a crime scene, Mrs Olyphant . . .’
‘Call me Polly.’
‘Well Polly, I’ll have to ask you to remain out here while we take a look inside.’
‘Are you sure?’
‘Yes.’
‘I could . . .’
‘Sorry.’
‘I’ll wait out here, shall I? Just in case I can be of any further assistance to your investigation.’
‘You do that.’
They went inside Apartment 3C at 54 Hall Street in New Mills and shut the door.
‘I could read her,’ Lake said.
‘Some people are obvious. Others not so. It’s the people who hide behind masks that you need to be able to recognise for who they really are.’
‘Like Sheldon and the mechanic?’
‘In a way, but their masks were transparent. It’s the psychopaths hiding in plain sight who are the problem. They wear their masks like body armour, because what’s behind them is evil.’
They moved from room to room. There weren’t many personal possessions. It was clean, tidy, functional. There were no clothes strewn about. In the three months Toby Flagg had been living there, he hadn’t made it a home. He wasn’t planning on staying. He’d come back to the area for a reason, which had probably been to discover who had murdered his father and why.
‘What do you think, Lake?’
‘About what?’
‘The apartment.’
‘I don’t think anything.’
‘Not only are you useless at reading
people, but you can’t read apartments either. Remember what I said about detectives who hide under the collective responsibility of a serious crime squad. Maybe that’s where you should be – hiding, following orders, not thinking for yourself. I want someone who has a detective’s brain. Look around you. What does this apartment tell you about Toby Flagg?’
‘Oh! I see.’ She walked around the rooms again. ‘He’s tidier than most men I know.’
‘Keep going.’
‘He hasn’t got many clothes.’
‘Why do you think that might be?’
‘He wasn’t planning to stay?’
‘Carry on.’
‘There are no personal possessions. He hadn’t made this into a home, which supports the idea that he wasn’t going to stay.’
‘And?’
‘And . . . He came here to do something?’
‘Such as?’
‘Find out who murdered his father?’
‘And probably why. That’s what I expect from you every time we go into a place. If there’s no one there, you’re to provide a running commentary on what you see. If there is someone there, you’ll provide it afterwards. If you need to take notes – do so. The more practice you get, the more it’ll become second nature.’
‘I just remembered, you told Mister Sheldon I was your partner.’
‘Would you rather I called you my apprentice?’
‘No.’
‘To the outside world that’s what you appear to be – my partner, but you and I both know that’s not the case. I used the term so as not to embarrass you. I keep asking myself whether I could leave you to solve a murder on your own; or trust you to back me up under all circumstances; or if I could rely on you to carry your share of the workload. The answer in all cases is a resounding no. So, don’t get too excited just because I used a word. At the moment, it doesn’t mean anything. You have a long way to go before you reach the exalted position of partner. Right, I want you to look everywhere and in everything. Is there anything in here that might give us a clue? And do it properly. People hide things in the strangest places.’
They turned the place inside out and upside down, and found three things – a creased photograph of Toby Flagg’s parents, which had ‘Rhyl, North Wales” and the date October 13, 1990 scribbled in blue ink on the back; a short unsigned note addressed to Mrs Miranda Flagg, which was dated June 18, 2002 – four days after Albert Flagg had been mown down by a stolen black BMW. It read:
You know why he was killed.
Leave now.
If you stay, your boy will be next.
‘What do you think about that?’ he said.
‘It looks like the reason that Toby came back here.’
‘And?’
‘The reason why his mother left Marple fifteen years ago and took Toby with her?’
‘Why did Toby return three months ago?’
‘Ah! Probably because he found the note in his mother’s personal possessions after she died, and he decided to come back and find out why his father was murdered, by whom and why they were forced to move away afterwards?’
‘What’s he been doing for three months?’
‘Searching for answers?’
‘He probably got too close to those answers, and that’s what got him killed. And what about this?’ He held up the third thing they’d found – a long thin key with EB54M18GH engraved on the head of the key.
Lake shrugged. ‘Left luggage locker? Safe deposit box? Storage container?’
‘What about the alphanumeric sequence?’
‘The number of the locker, box or container?’
‘It’s a bit long.’
‘I don’t know then.’
‘Split the sequence up.’
Lake stared at the mixture of numbers and letters for a handful of seconds and then said, ‘No – it doesn’t mean anything to me.’
‘What if I told you that M1 is the postcode for Manchester city centre . . .’
‘Ah! Then 8GH must be the address?’
‘Yes.’
‘And EB54 is the number of the storage box?’
‘I expect so.’
‘I should have realised. Is that where we’re going next?’
‘No.’
‘Why not?’
‘If we turn up with the key, show them our Warrant Cards and explain the situation, they might let us open the box and take whatever’s inside.’
‘But they might not?’
‘So?’
‘We should obtain a Search Warrant?’
‘Call the Duty Sergeant. Give him the details and ask him to organise it. I doubt we’ll get to it today, so probably first thing tomorrow morning we’ll go and retrieve what’s in the box.’
‘Okay.’
Chapter Eleven
‘We make a good team, don’t we?’ Lake said as they left 54 Hall Street in New Mills and walked back to the car.
‘How did you arrive at that conclusion?’
‘Well, we worked out what that key was for.’
‘We!’ His face creased up. ‘Do you think you would have worked it out without me?’
‘I might have done.’
‘As I recall, you had no idea what the alphanumeric sequence meant until I told you that M1 was the postcode for Manchester city centre. Do you think I would have worked it out on my own?’
‘You might have done.’
‘I did, which makes you surplus to requirements. I don’t like repeating myself like a scratched vinyl record, but I don’t want or need a partner. We’re not a team, or a partnership. I’m teaching you how to be a proper detective, but you need a detective’s brain and aptitude. If I’m being honest, I haven’t seen any evidence of either so far. My advice to you is to ask Henn if he can find a place for you in the Serious Crime Division proper, instead of being out in the frozen wastes with me. I hear they get to solve the easy murders that come their way, and anything they find too difficult is passed to me, so you won’t be expected to work too hard. There’ll be lots of people to talk to, make coffee for and have sex with. I’m sure they’ll appreciate your obvious talents. I won’t think any worse of you than I already do, so you can leave with a clean conscience. I might even pop in and say hello from time to time when I’m up there annoying Henn. What do you say?’
‘You can do and say what you like, but I’m not going anywhere. I may be a bit rusty after a couple of weeks off . . .’
‘A bit rusty!’
‘Yes.’
‘A bit delusional, more like.’
‘Well, I still think we make a good team.’
They climbed into the car.
Lake turned the key in the ignition and said, ‘Where to?’
His phone vibrated – it was Henn. He thought about ignoring it, but decided to grab the bull by the horns.
‘Yes?’
‘Dark?’
‘Is that who you called?’
‘It is.’
‘Then it must be me.’
‘Did DC Lake not give you my message?’
‘I receive a lot of messages.’
‘You were to call me.’
‘Well, there’s no need to do that now, because you’ve called me.’
He heard Henn sigh. ‘We agreed that you were not going to mention vampires at the press briefing.’
‘And I didn’t. The reporter from the Marple Review already knew that a wooden stake had been used as the murder weapon.’
‘Who told her?’
‘It could have been any number of people. The crime scene had descended into chaos by the time I arrived, because the Crime Scene Manager was late due to traffic, roadworks and a series of accidents on the main routes between Manchester and Marple.’
‘Well, I suppose it can’t be helped.’
‘Of course, I’ll continue to deny the existence of vampires as long as I have breath in my body, but the press being the press . . . They like nothing better than a good sensational bloodsucking story that�
�ll sell their papers.’
‘We’re in agreement there.’
‘And while you’re on the phone, I should warn you that Lake and I are on our way to interview the Assistant Chief Constable of Derbyshire Police Force – Angela Vickers.’
‘Over my dead body, Dark.
‘I’d like nothing better. Unfortunately, she was a DC at Hazel Grove Police Station fifteen years ago, and she happened to be the investigating officer when Flagg’s father was killed – supposedly by a joyrider – in a hit-and-run accident, but I don’t believe that to be the case.’
‘You mean that you think it was murder?’
‘I do.’
‘Which obviously suggests that ACC Vickers was either corrupt or incompetent?’
‘You said that, not me.’
‘It always has to be you, doesn’t it, Dark?’
‘And Lake. Don’t forget Lake. She was the person who suggested that we should interview ACC Vickers.’
‘Was she? Oh well, if Lake thinks it’s a good idea.’
‘She does. And I support her suggestion wholeheartedly.’
‘As you should.’
‘Although, the ACC might be attending the knees-up in Brighton with you this weekend?’
‘No. I have the attendance list here in front of me – she’s not on it. And for future reference, it’s not a knees-up, Dark. We’ll be discussing the future of policing – a place where anachronisms won’t exist.’
‘I guess I’ll never see that future then, but I’m sure you’ll have a good time without me.’
‘You can be sure of that. And remember, if you upset Angela Vickers, you’ll be upsetting me.’
‘I’ll bear that in mind. Have a good knees-up, and I’ll be there prompt at eight-thirty on Monday to bring you up-to-date with the case.’
‘Give my regards to DC Lake.’
‘That goes without saying.’
He ended the call.
‘Thanks for telling him it was me who suggested interviewing ACC Vickers.’
‘Don’t be too thankful. I said that because I knew he wouldn’t object to us doing it if you’d suggested it.’