The Clifftop Murders (Dorset Crime Book 2)

by Rachel McLean

  “An affair, boss?” Tina said. “You think...?”

  Lesley stood up. “I imagine Harry Nevin was busy enough already. But a man with one mistress might have a second. I want to find out everything that links them. Start with professional connections, then look at the social aspects.”

  “Including the Leonard case?”

  “Yes,” Lesley replied. “Find out how closely Harry Nevin was involved in it. His claim was that he was the solicitor on that and not Ameena, that’s why he didn’t send us the files. But is that true, or were they both on it?”

  “Has the sarge talked to you about the Kelvin link?” Tina asked.

  “What Kelvin link?”

  “The Kelvin family. Leonard used to work for them.”

  Lesley shrugged. “Who are the Kelvin family?”

  Tina’s face darkened. “Only the dodgiest bunch in the whole of Dorset.”

  Lesley lowered herself into Mike’s chair. “Why wasn’t I told about this?”

  Tina looked back at her, blinking. “I’m sorry, boss. I talked to the sarge. I just assumed...”

  “It’s not your fault, Tina,” Lesley said.

  Why wasn’t Dennis telling her everything?

  “Tell me more,” she said to the PC. “Who is this Kelvin family?”

  “Organised crime,” Tina told her. “Small time compared to what you’re used to in Birmingham, I imagine. They run a bunch of businesses, money laundering, a little bit of drug smuggling, that kind of thing. They go in and out of the port at Poole.”

  Lesley leaned across the desk. “I want to know more about them. What have they been arrested for? Any prosecutions?”

  Tina shook her head. “A few prosecutions, but very few convictions. Not of the family, at least. They’re clever, they hire good lawyers.”

  Lesley sank into the chair. She knew a man like that, or she had done in Birmingham. Trevor Hamm, organised crime boss. It had taken years to get anything to stick to him. And in the end, he was convicted of profiting from prostitution, not for the murders he should have gone down for.

  “OK,” she said. “Tina, I want to know all about the Kelvin family. Who are their solicitors? Was Harry Nevin working for them, and if so, did something happen between him and them? Have they sacked him recently? Or hired him? Has he failed on a case? Anything you can get, I want to know about it, and I want to know yesterday.”

  Tina nodded. She looked scared. “I’m really sorry, boss.”

  “Stop apologising, Tina. It’s not your fault.”

  Lesley stood up and turned away from the bank of desks. She strode into her own office and slammed the door.

  Bloody Dennis, she thought. Where was he?

  Chapter Forty-One

  The soil behind the beach hut where Harry Nevin’s body had been found was dry and sandy. It was far from ideal for preserving footprints, but Gail had found one. She didn’t know if it belonged to the father of the toddler who’d found the body, or to Nevin himself.

  She doubted it belonged to his killer, seeing as he’d been pushed from the top of the cliff. But she was going to take a cast of it, just in case one of Nevin’s attackers had come down to check on him.

  It was surprising how many murderers did stupid things like that.

  Gav had already photographed it, along with the damage to the vegetation further up the cliff. He was now up at the top in an area they’d cordoned off right above this spot. He was examining the grass there, and the fence, trying to find scraps of clothing that might have caught as Nevin was pushed over the fence.

  She stood, stretching her back and wishing she’d been more sensible and crouched instead of bending. Her phone rang. She pulled it from her pocket and looked up the cliff, expecting it to be Gav. It was quicker for them to talk on the phone than to walk up and down the hill.

  It was Brett, who was back at the lab going through the samples they’d gathered.

  “Hey, Brett,” she said. “Tell me you’re having a better day than me.”

  “That bad?” he replied.

  She screwed up her face. “I’m trying to pick up a footprint that’s just dust.”

  “Yeah,” he replied. “Gav told me it’s sandy back there.”

  She nodded. “You’ve got news for me?”

  “I have,” he said. “Good news. Well, news anyway.”

  “Go on.”

  “We got the DNA analysis back from the skin cells we found under Ameena Khan’s fingernails.”

  Gail felt her stomach tighten. “And?”

  “We’ve got a match.”

  She took a step away from the footprint. She didn’t want to accidentally stumble into it in her excitement. “Go on then, put me out of my misery.”

  Brett chuckled. He liked doing this to her. Cheeky sod.

  “It was nobody on the crime database,” he said. “Nobody who’s been arrested. But it was somebody whose DNA we’ve taken very recently.”

  “Brett,” she said. “Stop it. Just tell me who it is.”

  “Sorry, Gail. It’s Nevin. The DNA under Ameena Khan’s fingernails belongs to Harry Nevin.”

  Chapter Forty-Two

  Lesley sat with her chair angled towards the window, anxious to see when Dennis and Johnny returned. When she spotted Dennis’s brown Astra, she left her office.

  Tina looked up as she passed, catching her tense expression. “Everything alright, boss?”

  “Fine.” She pushed through the doors and made for the stairs.

  Dennis and Johnny were approaching the building as she left it. She caught Dennis’s eye and raised an eyebrow.

  The two men stopped as they reached her.

  “Boss?” Dennis said.

  “Can we have a chat, please?” she asked, ignoring Johnny’s expression of confusion.

  Dennis turned to the DC. “You go on up, write up the interview notes.”

  Johnny nodded at Dennis, gave Lesley a wary glance then went inside.

  “Everything OK?” Dennis asked. He fingered the stem of his specs.

  “Come with me.”

  Lesley turned to survey the building. She didn’t want to do this inside. She led him to the side of the building, a paved area with a bench that looked like it was used by smokers.

  Dennis stood behind her, his posture stiff. He had hold of his tie.

  “Oh, do stop looking like a kid who’s been called to the headteacher’s office,” she snapped.

  He let go of his tie. “Is there a problem? I’m not sure why…” He looked towards the building.

  She leaned against the wall and folded her arms. “Tell me about the Kelvin family, Dennis.”

  A flash of recognition crossed his face. “Er…”

  “I’m told they go back decades, maybe centuries. Organised crime.”

  Dennis nodded. “That’s about right.”

  “And Steven Leonard worked for them.”

  He met her gaze. “He did.”

  ‘Why didn’t you tell me this case might be linked to a significant local crime family?”

  He pulled his shoulders back. “The link is tenuous, Ma’am. It might have been nothing. There was no need to…”

  “You know how I work. We share information, we come together to discuss progress on a regular basis. It helps us to form connections, to push through roadblocks. You’ve had plenty of opportunity to tell me about this. Why didn’t you?”

  He looked at her, his eyes roaming her face. She waited while he decided if he was going to lie to her, or at least omit the truth again.

  “All I can say is I’m sorry, Ma’am.”

  “Oh, don’t ma’am me. You do that when you’re nervous, you know.”

  “Sorry.” His hand went to his specs.

  She bit her bottom lip. “So have you uncovered anything more significant than that Leonard used to work for the Kelvins? Were they connected to his arrest?”

  “We can’t find any evidence of that, Ma’am. Boss. But to be frank, that’s their MO. They have
a string of low-level employees who do their dirty work. Then they set them adrift after they’ve been arrested.”

  “But Arthur Kelvin gave Leonard a reference. He vouched for his character.”

  “It projects an image, boss. Fine upstanding local businessman protecting his employees no matter what kind of trouble they get into. In a roundabout way, it makes him look less guilty.”

  She snorted. “From now on, you keep me abreast of any new lines of enquiry, yes?”

  He nodded. “Yes. Boss.”

  “Good. Now come on before the others start to think we’ve run away together.” She eyed him. “Or I’ve pushed you in front of a bus.”

  His eyes widened. She smiled. “It’s a joke, Dennis. Lighten up.”

  He nodded. She turned away from him, exasperated.

  Chapter Forty-Three

  Lesley walked back upstairs, aware of Dennis dawdling behind her. She didn’t like having to reprimand him, but she couldn’t have her DS hiding things from her. As she walked into the office, she noticed Johnny and Mike both looking at the DS. Had he talked to them about the Kelvins?

  Tina was focusing on her screen, but there was a stiffness to her body language. She glanced up at Dennis as he passed.

  “My office, folks,” Lesley snapped.

  She strode inside and grabbed the board, yanking it out into the centre of the space. The four team members filed in after her, Dennis at the back. Johnny was looking at him, but Dennis didn’t meet his eye.

  “Where are we, then?” Lesley asked. She poked the board with her fingertip. “The Steven Leonard case links to the Kelvin family. Was Ameena representing them as well?”

  “Not as far as we can tell,” said Tina. “I’ve looked into her cases. I can’t find any indication that Ameena was dealing with anyone other than Steven Leonard on that case.”

  “I made some calls too,” said Mike. “Bournemouth CID. I’ve been through all the cases in which they came across her in the last year, and none of them look like they’re linked to the Kelvins.”

  Lesley folded her arms. “So tell me about the Kelvin family, then. Do we need to be interested in them?”

  Dennis drew in a breath. “Arthur Kelvin is the grandson of Philip Kelvin, who started the modern incarnation of the family business in the sixties.”

  “Which is?” Lesley asked.

  “Drugs and money laundering, mainly.”

  “Anything more?” Lesley asked. “Prostitution, violent crime, gun smuggling?”

  Dennis shook his head. “Not as far as we’re aware. There’s speculation that they started out as smugglers. It goes back centuries.”

  “Family business,” Johnny added.

  Lesley eyed him. “I don’t care if it’s a family business. I want to know who they are, and if they’re connected to Ameena Khan’s death. If she was representing a man who worked for them, and Nevin, Cross and Short are hiding that fact from us, I want to know why.”

  She thought of Elsa. Would she know what was going on? Did Lesley need to question her girlfriend?

  This was getting too close to home.

  “Do some more digging,” she said. “You must all have contacts associated with the Kelvins. People like that, they’ll have fingers in every pie we can think of.”

  The team all nodded and grunted. Dennis muttered.

  “What is it, Dennis?” Lesley asked.

  “Nothing, boss.”

  She gave him a hard look. Dennis was old fashioned and could be a pain. But he was diligent and had shown signs of loyalty. She didn’t want to fall out with him.

  “OK,” she said, “I also want to know about connections between Harry Nevin and the Kelvin family. Who was their usual lawyer for criminal matters? Could they have killed Nevin?”

  “Have you got a reason for thinking the Kelvins killed Nevin, boss?” Dennis asked.

  “I’ve not got any reason for thinking anything right now. But I want to rule out any possibilities.”

  Her phone rang. “DCI Clarke.”

  “Lesley, it’s Gail, I’ve got an update.”

  “Wait,” Lesley said. “I’m putting you on speaker. I’ve got the rest of the team here.”

  Lesley put her phone on the desk and turned on the speakerphone.

  “Can you all hear me?” Gail asked.

  “Yes, we can,” said Tina.

  “Go on,” said Lesley.

  “Right,” Gail replied. “We’ve got the DNA back from underneath Ameena’s fingernails, the skin she managed to pull off her attacker.”

  “Whose is it?” Lesley said.

  “It’s Harry Nevin,” Gail replied.

  Johnny whistled. Lesley looked up, surveying the team.

  “So,” she said. “If Nevin killed Ameena, we need to know why. And if so, who killed Nevin?”

  Nobody spoke.

  “Where are we with CCTV? Eyewitnesses?”

  “Nothing yet,” said Johnny. “Uniform is still knocking on doors. It’s early though, people are still out at work. We might get a bit more joy when people come home.”

  “Keep on top of it,” she replied. “If we get somebody, one of you goes over there and interviews them. Even better, two of you, so we can cover as many people as possible.”

  The two DCs nodded.

  “What about the forensics?” she asked.

  Gail’s voice came from the phone. “There’s a footprint behind the beach hut. I’ve taken a photo of it, trying to get a cast, but not having much luck in this soil. And Gav’s found fabric on the fence up at the top of the cliff. Could be unrelated. But we’ll analyse it anyway, see if we can find out what it’s from and where it might have been bought.”

  “Good,” said Lesley. “Anything else?”

  “Gav’s looking at some tyre tracks in the soil up at the top of the fence. Next to the car park. Not sure how fresh they are but you never know.”

  “Excellent,” Lesley replied. “Glad to see you’re making progress.”

  “I’ll keep you posted,” Gail told her.

  “Good.” She looked up from the phone. “What about the post-mortem?”

  Dennis took a step forward. His body language was still twitchy. “It’s happening later today.”

  “Blimey,” she said. “Whittaker’s inhaled rocket fuel.”

  Dennis shrugged. “Another job got pushed back.”

  “Pleased to hear it,” she told him. “I want you to go along, find out exactly what killed Nevin. If it was that gash on the back of his head, find out what the weapon was.”

  She looked at her phone. “Gail, I don’t suppose there’s any sign of a weapon on the clifftop?”

  “Oh yeah,” Gail said. “Sorry, forgot to mention it. I’ve got it here in my bag.”

  “Haha,” Lesley replied.

  “Sorry, Lesley.” Gail laughed.

  Lesley hung up.

  She looked at the team. “Chop, chop then. You’ve got things to do.”

  Chapter Forty-Four

  Dennis strode out of the building. His whole body sang with irritation and outrage at his new boss. He hated the way she’d dragged him here, taking him to the side of the building as if they were schoolkids. Not stopping for one moment to find out why he might not have consulted her.

  But deep down, he knew he had been in the wrong. She was senior investigating officer, and she was his boss. He should tell her all his suspicions about a case, no matter how uneasy it made him.

  He yanked open the door to his car and threw himself inside. As he was about to start the ignition, his phone rang. “DS Frampton,” he grunted.

  “Sergeant, this is the pathology lab. Sorry to call you on such late notice.”

  Dennis’s shoulders slumped. “What is it?”

  “Dr Whittaker has been called away. The post-mortem on Harry Nevin will be tomorrow morning.”

  Dennis looked up at the roof of his car. The DCI was right, Henry Whittaker was slow and inefficient. “What time tomorrow?”

  “
First thing.”

  “What does first thing mean for you people?”

  “There’s no need for that.”

  Dennis clenched his fists. “Sorry,” he said, pushing calm into his voice. “What time do I need to be there?”

  “9:30am.”

  9:30am. Hardly first thing. The DCI would have been in the office for hours by then. The case would have progressed, she’d be expecting the report back. But he knew there was no point in trying to hustle Whittaker.

  “Very well,” he said. “See you then.”

  He put his hands on the steering wheel and leaned forward, stopping before his head reached the wheel. He peered up through the windscreen at the office. Nobody was expecting him back in there; it was four o’clock now and the post-mortem should have been his last task of the day.

  He wasn’t in the mood for going back up there. They’d all stared at him when he’d returned with the DCI. He didn’t know which was worse: Tina’s smugness, or Johnny’s concern.

  He started the ignition and drove out of the car park.

  Half an hour later, he stopped in front of a set of heavy gates. He opened his window to press a buzzer.

  “Who is it?” came a voice over the intercom.

  “My name is Detective Sergeant Frampton,” he said. “I’m from Dorset Police.”

  “Wait.”

  He sat back, surveying the gates. They were tall and wooden, stained a dark brown. He wondered what the house beyond them looked like.

  The intercom crackled. “Come in.”

  He caught his breath and watched as the gates opened, surprised he hadn’t been sent away.

  The gates revealed a wide driveway with a broad house beyond it. The upper floor was in the eaves, balconies to both sides with views over the harbour behind the house. The front door was open and a woman in a black dress and a white apron was waiting. She pointed to a spot where he should leave his car. He pulled up and got out, hurrying towards her. He had a feeling that if he dawdled, he’d be told to leave.