SHADOW CRIMES a gripping crime thriller full of twists

by MICHAEL HAMBLING

  ‘What’s happened to DI Pitman?’ Doug Jessop, the local DS, asked.

  ‘He’s at home. You may know that there was brief relationship between them, although Bruce says that it’s been over for a while. Procedure dictates that he stays away until we get this mess sorted. We’ll be seeing him again a bit later. That information remains in this room. Don’t any of you dare share it, even with your nearest and dearest. Everything is a bit tangled because of the parallel investigation into prison smuggling that Lydia Pillay is running. I’ll be in overall charge for the foreseeable future, reporting to DCS Silver. You, Doug, take a lead role, teamed up with Barry Marsh here, who’s from my unit. You know the local situation. He knows how I operate and what I want. Let’s get busy.’

  The first significant fact to emerge was that Saturday’s supposed raid on the drug gang was more low-key than Andrea had suggested to Lydia. In fact, the word “raid” was a bit of a misnomer. It had been the co-ordinated arrest of three teenage dimwits who’d been trying to sell soft drugs to youngsters outside the local football training ground, in full view of the volunteer helpers. One of these was a recently retired fire officer who took a dim view of the activity. Moreover, Andrea’s presence hadn’t actually been required, and the police officers involved had been surprised when she turned up. It seemed likely that Andrea had been looking for a way to avoid the planned meet-up with Lydia, and had jumped at the first opportunity that presented itself. She had returned to the station at two, then disappeared, not to be seen there again until Monday, and then only until early afternoon. She’d clearly been shaken by Lydia’s revelation about Tony Quigley’s death. Her colleagues remember her being uncharacteristically quiet, and she’d left after lunch before they even realised she was gone. Apparently, the only person to have had a lengthy chat with her was the unit’s boss, DI Bruce Pitman.

  Sophie looked across at Matt Silver. ‘Time for a visit, don’t you think, sir?’

  * * *

  It was late afternoon by the time the two senior detectives drew up outside Bruce Pitman’s house. He had a wife and two teenage children, though they were all out when Sophie and her boss were shown in. Matt Silver had asked Sophie, as the SIO for the case, to take the lead in the questioning. He would observe and make contributions only if necessary.

  They sat down around a low coffee table in the sitting room. ‘Where do you want me to start?’ Pitman asked.

  ‘Our priority is to find Andrea, so you need to focus on anything that might help,’ Matt replied. ‘The other stuff can wait until later. This isn’t a formal interview, not yet. You must have been turning things over in your head, looking for bits of information that might lead us to where she might be. Have you come up with anything?’

  Pitman shrugged. ‘Nothing substantial. She was a regular in the bars and restaurants around the town. She was a member of a local gym but was thinking of ending her subscription because she rarely had the inclination to go for a workout, or so she said. The trouble was, Andrea kept herself to herself. The rest of us didn’t get to know her all that well.’

  Sophie was exasperated. ‘Bruce, you had an affair with her, for God’s sake. Yet you talk as though she was just another detective in your squad. Who are you trying to kid? If we’ve got to push you for information, then we bloody well will. Tell us how your affair started.’

  Pitman was pale and looked ten years older than when Sophie had first called in on him early that morning. ‘It was after our Christmas party last year. Chrissie decided not to come. We’d been going through a bit of a rough patch, partly because she was stressed out at work. She’s a nurse at the local hospital, in A and E, and her job’s become a nightmare. I wasn’t much better. Anyway, she was on a late shift that week, so I went alone and offered Andrea a lift. We all know she likes a bit to drink, so we always make sure she doesn’t drive. But she didn’t want to be collected. She didn’t tell me why at the time, and I didn’t realise that she’d booked an overnight room in the hotel where we had the function. Well, I didn’t until she started coming on to me, near the end of the evening. She was making things pretty obvious, and that’s when she told me she had a room upstairs.’

  ‘And you, poor innocent soul that you are, didn’t think of trying it on with her, of course. You were entirely the wronged party, seduced against your will by this cunning temptress? Don’t make me laugh, Bruce.’

  Pitman looked at her bleakly. ‘Okay, have it your way. Whoever was at fault, that’s how it began. And once it started, I couldn’t give it up. It went on for about six months, until she got fed up with me. I got dumped in favour of a hedge fund manager she met in a local wine bar. That’s it.’

  ‘This is all so much crap. You had a six-month fling with one of your unit’s junior detectives. You did it, by your own admission, while your wife was stressed out and under pressure. You could have ended it after the first night, if it was what you claim, a simple case of two over-inebriated partygoers who couldn’t keep their hands off each other. But I know what you’re like, Bruce. I know perfectly well that you use your intimidating size and your alpha-male status to get what you want. No, I think there was more to it than you’ve said. But we don’t have time for it now. We have to find Andrea. So where was this wine bar? And who was this hedge fund manager?’

  He shook his head. ‘I honestly don’t know. She seemed to be familiar with every upmarket bar and restaurant in the area. She took me to a fair number of them, but I couldn’t tell you which ones she liked best. Anyway, there are only five wine bars in the town, so it’s got to be one of those, surely.’

  They heard the front door slam and footsteps in the hall. A teenage girl put her head around the door.

  ‘Hi, Dad. I saw the car in the drive and thought you must be home.’ She smiled nervously at the two detectives, and then disappeared. The stairs creaked, followed by the sound of an upstairs door closing.

  ‘Holly?’ Matt Silver asked.

  Pitman nodded. ‘She’s fifteen. Paul is a year younger. He’ll be at basketball practice.’

  Sophie sat thinking for a while. ‘This threat from Andrea, that she’d spill the beans to your wife, did she really mean it?’

  ‘I didn’t want to chance finding out. It was too risky.’

  ‘So you calmly accepted her request. What was it you said? To cut her some slack? It just doesn’t square with your character, Bruce. I can’t believe that a man like you would meekly go along with anyone’s demands, let alone a younger woman. What else was going on? Were there other threats?’ She watched his face, waiting for a response. None came. ‘There were, weren’t there? Against your family?’

  Pitman looked at the floor.

  ‘Who was pulling her strings? Didn’t you ever try to find out?’

  ‘I just wanted a quiet life,’ he replied. ‘For me and my family. That’s all I wanted.’

  He was beginning to look like a broken man. Time for the key question.

  ‘Yesterday. Your CID team said that Andrea seemed withdrawn and anxious after she’d seen Lydia Pillay. She was clearly shaken by Tony Quigley’s death and wouldn’t confide in anyone else. You were the only person she spoke to at length before she vanished, so what was said?’

  Pitman shook his head like a wounded bear. ‘I never knew about this guy, Quigley, not until yesterday. When Pillay told me about his death, I didn’t really understand what she was going on about, particularly since I hadn’t been told about this planned meet-up on Saturday, the one that didn’t happen. When I finally got to see Andrea, she was nearly in tears. I’d never seen her like that before. She’s been round the block a few times and is pretty hard-bitten. She seemed able to take all the knocks life could throw at her. But this had got to her.’ He paused as if to choose his next words carefully. ‘She was really scared, that’s the conclusion I’ve come to. But she wouldn’t tell me what she was afraid of, not directly. She just said that she’d been bloody stupid. I asked her what was wrong, I really did, but she wouldn�
��t say. She said she’d figure a way out of it all. I told her that if there was anything I could do to help, all she had to do was ask. She just gave me a withering look and left. That was it.’

  ‘And you’ve still no idea what was bothering her?’

  ‘No. Something linked to this Quigley guy, obviously. But beyond that . . .’ He held his hands up.

  Nothing else seemed to be forthcoming, so Sophie and Matt stood up to leave. At that point the front door opened again, and they heard footsteps coming towards the lounge door. It opened and a dark-haired woman in a nurse’s uniform walked in.

  She stopped short. ‘Oh.’

  ‘We’re just leaving,’ Matt said. ‘Matt Silver and Sophie Allen, from police headquarters. We’d like to stay and chat, Mrs Pitman, but we have a missing officer on our hands and time is ticking by.’

  They left Pitman to explain to his wife why he was at home, and why two senior officers from headquarters had come calling.

  * * *

  Sophie and Matt arrived back in the incident room at Weymouth police station to be met by Barry Marsh. ‘We may have found her car,’ he said. ‘It’s just been radioed in, so it’s not yet confirmed. It was in a disused quarry out near Kimmeridge, and pretty well incinerated, but the team that spotted it are fairly sure it’s the right model and colour. It’s still warm and smoking slightly, so they’re guessing it was dumped sometime earlier today. We’ll have to wait for confirmation from forensics though.’

  ‘What do you think?’ Matt asked Sophie.

  She grimaced. ‘It can’t be good, can it? Ransacking her flat and torching her car? It’s a gang at work, wiping any tracks that might lead their way. She knew something and they’re making sure it doesn’t get out.’

  ‘But Quigley’s house wasn’t ransacked and his car wasn’t torched,’ Matt said.

  ‘Maybe they didn’t see him as the main problem. Maybe Andrea was always the more serious threat and they were watching her to see how she reacted after Quigley’s death. They held off until they could see what she was going to do. I don’t know, Matt. This is all supposition, but I’m pessimistic about our chances of finding her alive. Somehow, she’s managed to irritate a group of nasties. I think it might be somehow linked to Lydia’s investigation, but beyond that, I’m in the dark. But whatever my suspicions about Andrea’s fate might be, we’ve got to concentrate on finding her while there’s a chance she’s still alive somewhere. I’ve been wrong before.’ She looked across at her number two who was standing gazing into space, frowning. ‘Out with it, Barry. You’ve thought of something.’

  ‘They might have made a slip up, ma’am. If that is Andrea’s car, and if it went out to Kimmeridge by the obvious route, they might have been caught on CCTV. There’s a petrol station on the corner, as you turn off the main road. One of its cameras angles out across the road and catches everything that’s turning off down the hill. I don’t just mean a glimpse, it’s really clear. I’ll get onto them right away. We might just be in luck.’

  Chapter 9: No Skinny Dipping

  Tuesday, Late Afternoon

  The old quarry near Kimmeridge was a gloomy, dank place. It had once been used to extract chalk, but this activity had ceased decades, maybe even centuries, earlier. It was now overgrown with brambles and other coarse shrubs, interspersed with discarded bits of metal, torn plastic fertiliser bags and a few items of dumped furniture. It was small and hardly had room for the police car that blocked its entrance, not with the smouldering shell of the burned-out convertible occupying the centre of the small enclosure. At least, most of it was burned out. But not quite all. The wreck was covered with a fine powder, and an empty fire extinguisher was lying on the ground nearby.

  ‘I think you did a good job there, George,’ Rose Simons said. ‘Maybe there’s something left that the forensic girls and boys can play with. Come and have some champagne.’

  George Warrander looked at her, his face streaked with sweat and particles of soot, puzzled. ‘What? Oh, I get it.’ He wiped his mouth with his sleeve, took the offered bottle of mineral water and drank greedily. He then sat down on a rock near the one his boss was perched on. ‘That was hot work.’

  She nodded sagely. ‘I know. It was quite tiring watching you, but I thought I’d better not interfere. Boys and bonfires go together so well. That’s what my mum and dad used to say. But you’ll need a shower, Georgie, and the sooner the better. Once the techs arrive we’ll hot-foot it to the beach and you can indulge in a bit of skinny dipping if you like.’

  He glared at her. ‘It’s January, boss.’

  She feigned surprise. ‘So it is. It’ll just have to be a hot shower back at the station, won’t it? So when am I likely to see that glorious young body of yours? Anytime soon?’

  ‘Are you allowed to say things like that? I mean, if our roles were swapped I’d be disciplined for saying such things to a young woman officer. The press would have a field day. How come you’re able to get away with it?’

  Rose tapped her nose. ‘Friends in high places. And talking about our elders and betters, that looks like the local field marshal coming along the road now.’

  She struggled to her feet as a convoy of cars approached at high speed, with Sophie Allen’s silver saloon in the lead. Soon, the small quarry was a hive of activity as forensic staff began the process of examining the wreck and searching the area. As soon as their presence was no longer required, Rose and George set off back to their base for a shower and some long overdue food.

  * * *

  Lydia Pillay was beginning to make progress in her attempts to identify the group of men who’d confronted her in the bar on Saturday. A somewhat grainy set of CCTV images, extracted from the Dorchester pub’s CCTV recording, had helped, along with some careful use of social media postings. One of her hunches had been right. They were all part of a loose-knit agglomeration of far-right extremist groups, set up to counter what they saw as the “pollution of our country” by non-European — that is, non-white — ethnic groups. Their social media posts were vile in the extreme but so far there was no evidence of any link to her investigation into prison smuggling. She was beginning to wonder if any such link existed. Was she letting her emotions get the better of her? It was all very well spending time probing a racist gang of thugs, but not at the expense of her allocated task. The problem was that something kept niggling away at her, she couldn’t help suspecting that a link did exist. Why had the gang been there, in that bar, at that time, just when she was due to meet the information source? It was the comment that the bar manager had made, that the ringleader seemed to be on the lookout for her, that kept bringing her back to this thought. Anyway, she had no other lead to follow at the moment.

  She looked up as her boss came into the room.

  ‘That Luke Boulden you’ve been looking into? His younger cousin was in gaol for GBH about ten years ago. Guys Marsh, up near Shaftesbury. Apparently Boulden was a regular visitor.’

  ‘Do you know the cousin’s name, boss?’ Lydia asked.

  ‘Shane Thomas. There was always speculation that Boulden was involved in the altercation that led to Thomas’s trial, but there was no proof. It might be worth looking into. By the way, why did we have Boulden’s photo on record? What had he been lifted for?’

  ‘Selling stolen goods. It was about seven years ago. He got a suspended sentence and seems to have kept his nose clean since then. Apparently, he’s ex-army.’

  Maybe things weren’t going quite as badly as she’d feared, now they had another name to work with. There was a chance it would generate something of interest. She realised the cause of her worry. Her only opening so far in the prison smuggling investigation had been Andrea Ford and her supposedly anonymous source. But now, with the source dead and Andrea missing, how was she to make any progress?

  Kevin must have seen the anxiety on her face. ‘Listen, Lydia, I know this job is a pig. These kinds of government initiatives always are. I asked you to take it on because you’re the
best I have at this kind of thing. But don’t think you have to carry it all yourself. Look me out for a chat if it’s necessary. It’s always good to get another perspective. How’s Jimmy, by the way?’

  ‘Fine. He’s a solid, reliable guy. He saved my bacon on Saturday, and I’m really grateful for that . . .’

  Kevin nodded gently. ‘But?’

  Lydia shrugged. ‘There aren’t any buts. I know I can depend on him. I’ve always known that. We worked together a few years ago, back when I was a DC in the VCU and he was in Swanage. We complement each other, boss.’

  ‘You mean you’re the brains and he’s the brawn. I’m fine with that, as long as it works, and I’ve no reason to think it isn’t. Just don’t beat yourself up if progress seems slow. You’ll get there, I know you will.’

  Kevin turned away and made for his office and, after a few moments’ thought, Lydia walked across to Jimmy Melsom to give him the latest snippet of information. Then she made herself a coffee and settled down at her computer terminal. So many investigations seemed to go this way these days. Rather than spending time out in the big wide world asking questions, there seemed to be endless hours in front of a computer screen typing search queries. It might be preferable when the weather was foul, but less appealing on a bright, fresh day like today. Jimmy was doing the background search on suspects using the routine criminal databases. Her task would be to attack from more unusual angles, looking for snippets that might open up an unexpected line of enquiry. If she was lucky.

  * * *

  Back in the old quarry at Kimmeridge, the initial news from the forensic unit was not encouraging.

  ‘Professionals,’ Dave Nash pronounced.