SHADOW CRIMES a gripping crime thriller full of twists

by MICHAEL HAMBLING

  Sophie frowned at him. ‘Come on, Dave. Apparently young George Warrander bust a gut trying to get the fire out before the car burned up completely. Are you saying that he wasted his time?’

  Dave grimaced. ‘Not entirely. He’s a bright lad, you know. He went for the most sensible part of the car, the passenger side glove box. There are a few bits and pieces that are charred but we may get something from them. But how relevant is it likely to be? Surely they’d have emptied it of anything incriminating? What are we looking for anyway?’

  She shrugged. ‘I don’t know. What I’d really like to know is whether Andrea was in it when it was brought here, but we’re more likely to find that out from the CCTV that Barry’s chasing up. Did they use petrol to start the fire?’

  ‘Yeah. The pattern of the fire suggests someone opened the rear door on the driver’s side and flung petrol around from a container.’

  ‘And the container itself?’

  ‘Not in the car, which is a bit strange. Usually it’ll be in a plastic bottle, and that gets burned out in the blaze. No evidence left behind apart from a few residues of charred plastic. Doesn’t look like that here, though.’

  Sophie looked pensive. ‘Well, at least we didn’t find her body in the car. That would have been the pits. I was imagining nightmare scenarios on the way here.’

  Suddenly they heard a shout from one of the search officers poking through the tangled undergrowth at the rear of the quarry. Most of the rubbish strewn around had obviously accumulated over a period of years. But at the rear of one of the bushes was a relatively clean-looking metal vacuum flask, slightly dented as if it had been hurled over the top of the bramble thicket. The forensic chief fought his way through the bushes, picked the flask up carefully in his gloved hand, loosened the top and sniffed cautiously.

  ‘That’s it,’ he said. ‘Petrol. What bloody idiot would torch a car and then chuck it down at the scene rather than taking it away?’

  ‘You answered your own question,’ Sophie said. ‘An idiot. Which gives me hope. What other mistakes might they make?’

  Barry Marsh’s car appeared around the corner and drew in at the side of the lane. ‘We’re in luck,’ he said, hurrying over. ‘That CCTV records twenty-four seven, and it’s angled across the road, just like I said. I’ve copied the recordings to a flash drive. But the car wasn’t dumped this morning, it was earlier this afternoon.’

  ‘That figures,’ Sophie said. ‘It ties in with what Rose Simons thinks. Hers was the first squad car here. George Warrander had a go at the blaze with a fire extinguisher and may have prevented a total burn out. I hope his efforts were worth it. He was covered in smuts and his eyebrows looked a bit scorched. He’s a good lad.’

  Chapter 10: The Watchers

  Tuesday Evening

  ‘It may take longer than we thought, ma’am. Just warning you. Even then, we may turn up nothing. Do you want me to continue?’ Rae was back in the Weymouth CID office having spent several hours with Ameera Khan at county HQ, sifting through the data taken from the station’s local server.

  ‘Have you found anything that suggests it’s worth continuing?’ Sophie asked.

  ‘I think so. Andrea Ford wasn’t the best at keeping records of what she was up to. Whoever described her work as off-piste was a bit wide of the mark. She was so far off that at times she was practically invisible. She wrote less than any other member of that CID team.’

  ‘So, there’s not much on the system from her, not for the last few weeks?’

  ‘On some investigations she kept things to the very minimum she could get away with. It was just a feeling, but it seemed to me that she might have been holding back on stuff in some of her case reports.’

  Sophie looked puzzled. ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘There was nothing on how she got hold of information, or anything that would allow someone else to follow it up. Nothing on her contacts. I know most of us don’t like the report writing and sometimes try to cut corners, but she had it down to a fine art. But as I said, it was only for some of her investigations. Most of them are fine. In fact, it wasn’t cutting corners at all, because it must have taken time to work out what to include and what to leave out, all without raising suspicion. She did it really well. Hats off to her.’

  ‘Something’s troubling you, Rae. Come on, out with it.’

  ‘I can’t put my finger on it, not yet. But if you give me another day or two I’ll get to the bottom of it, one way or the other.’

  Sophie needlessly tucked a few loose wisps of hair behind her ears, a sign that she was troubled. ‘No one here seems to know what she was up to last week. She seems to have always been a bit of a loner which, I suppose, ties in with her role. So do we assume that some part of it was somehow linked to Lydia’s inquiry into prison smuggling? And was this Tony Quigley character involved more deeply than we thought?’

  Weymouth DS, Doug Jessop, hurried into the room, out of breath.

  ‘Ma’am, we think she was in one of the local wine bars last night. The barman recognised the photo and said she was usually there two or three times a week. He said she left quite late, with a local guy.’

  ‘Do we know who he is?’ Sophie asked.

  ‘Simon Osman, a financial consultant.’

  ‘What’s he like?’

  ‘Never had a problem with him as far as I know. He’s always seemed above board. Sociable sort of guy.’

  ‘Okay, Rae,’ Sophie said. ‘Keep working at that data tomorrow, but keep me posted as to how worthwhile it is. As soon as you feel that you’re not getting anything useful out of it, hot-foot it back here, because I can use you. We could use you this evening anyway. No one down this end of the county knows you, and that’s a bonus.’

  * * *

  After dark, two cars pulled up outside a secluded detached house in a tree-lined residential street in Weymouth. Sophie followed Barry out of the lead vehicle, glancing around. There seemed to be no pedestrians about, even though it was still early in the evening. A fox scurried across the road only twenty yards away, stopping midway to sniff the chilly air. It turned its head to look at the detectives, trotted across to the other side of the road and disappeared into an overgrown front garden. They were joined by Doug Jessop from the second vehicle, and then Rae drove up. She parked further back along the street, and remained in her car, as did the local DC in the second one. Sophie didn’t want to cause alarm among the neighbours. Three detectives would be more than enough.

  ‘This is it,’ Jessop said. He unlatched a small wrought-iron gate and strode the short distance to the porch, which glowed orange in the light of a lamp above the door.

  Sophie and Barry stood back and waited while Jessop rang the doorbell. A few seconds later the door opened, and a middle-aged man with a round face and tousled hair peered out at them. He didn’t speak.

  ‘DS Jessop, CID. Are you Simon Osman? We’re here regarding a missing person, and we believe you may be able to help us. Can we come in and have a few words?’

  The man opened the door wider. ‘How can I help?’ he finally said. ‘Is it someone I know?’

  The detectives went inside and waited while he closed the door.

  ‘Is there somewhere we can sit down, Mr Osman?’ Sophie asked. ‘It’s been a long day.’

  They followed him into a spacious sitting room facing out to the road. Sophie and Doug Jessop sat down, while Barry remained standing close to the door.

  Sophie waited until Osman was seated. ‘One of our officers, Andrea Ford, has gone missing. We’re obviously concerned and are trying to trace her whereabouts.’

  There was a brief pause. ‘Why are you asking me?’ Osman said.

  Sophie looked at Jessop.

  ‘Because she left the New World wine bar with you last night,’ Jessop said. ‘Around ten? Is that right?’

  Osman frowned. ‘We only went as far as North Street together.’

  ‘What did you do then?’

  ‘I walked back here. I
t’s only five minutes or so, and I don’t drink and drive. Getting some fresh air at night clears my head.’

  Sophie noticed the moisture on his face. Was he nervous, or did he always perspire like this?

  ‘Go through the events in more detail, please,’ Jessop said, ‘and give us some times.’

  Osman shrugged. ‘I arrived at about nine. Andrea was already there but I didn’t spot her at first. She’s normally perched on a bar stool, chatting to whoever happens to be around, but last night she was sitting at a corner table by herself.’

  Sophie watched him, trying to weigh him up. He sounded very guarded. Did that just reflect a cautious nature, or did he know more than he was letting on? ‘How well do you know Andrea, Mr Osman?’ she asked.

  ‘We’re acquaintances rather than friends,’ he said. ‘I’ve known her a few years because we both like that wine bar. We bump into each other there occasionally, and have a chat. That’s what happened last night. It wasn’t planned or anything.’

  ‘So, you just happened to leave together, is that what you’re saying?’

  Again there was that slight pause before he replied. ‘Well, we did have a short conversation and I bought her a drink. I hope she’s okay. She’s a nice person, always happy to have a gossip whenever we run into each other.’

  ‘What was she wearing?’

  Osman frowned. ‘A deep red pair of trousers, sort of maroon I suppose, and a cream blouse. She put on a black leather jacket when we left.’

  ‘Boots or shoes?’

  ‘Short boots, black ones.’

  ‘What did you chat about? During this “short conversation?”’

  ‘Nothing much. Just catching up on how we both were. General chit-chat.’

  Sophie had noticed the absence of a ring when he’d first opened the door to them. ‘She’s an attractive, single woman, Mr Osman. Outgoing personality, too. Are you telling me that you haven’t tried to get to know her better?’

  ‘She’s not really my type, to be honest. We don’t have a lot in common. She’s into parties and that type of socialising. I like the theatre and the arts. But she was a nice person to chat to. Does that help?’

  Sophie looked impassively back at him. ‘I hope you’re not lying to us, Mr Osman. This is a missing police officer we’re talking about, and you might well be the last person to have seen her before she disappeared. You need to think about that. Trust me, we don’t take prisoners when it’s one of our own. If you know anything that might have a bearing on her disappearance, however unimportant it might seem, you should tell us. If you’re holding back on anything, we’ll find out. And I’ll have you. So, anything to add?’

  He shook his head.

  ‘Well, if you do think of anything, please get in touch immediately. We need to be off.’ She stood up and led the way to the door. ‘I’ll leave Sergeant Jessop here so you can make an official statement. It needs to be detailed. We’ll be going through it tomorrow, fact by fact and line by line. Don’t leave anything out that might prove to be important. Okay?’

  She dropped her contact card onto the table in front of him. ‘Tell the DS if you remember anything else. Please stay around and be in touch if you need to.’ She turned to Jessop. ‘Go through every detail with him. Barry and I need to check something out, but it shouldn’t take too long.’

  The door closed behind them, and they went out to the road. Sophie glanced along the street.

  ‘That car’s still there,’ she said. ‘Forty yards away, under those trees. Someone in the front.’ She took out her mobile phone and called Rae, still sitting in her car fifty yards away on the other side of the road.

  ‘Rae, turn around and head off back the way you came, but then go around the block. Pull in at the other end of the road so that you get a good view. There’s a car parked halfway along the street with someone in it. They might be watching us. I’m going to walk along there and try to have a word. If the car heads off, follow it, but keep well back. Let us know where you are. Don’t do anything rash, okay?’

  Rae turned and drove off, heading away from the suspicious vehicle. Less than two minutes later, Sophie spotted a set of vehicle lights appear at the far end of the avenue, only to be quickly extinguished. She crossed the road and walked briskly towards the suspicious vehicle, a heavy torch in her hand. It started up when she was ten yards away. She switched the torch on and shone it towards the driver, but the car accelerated quickly past her. It was a powerful BMW saloon, dark in colour, and she only saw one occupant, the driver, a middle-aged man. Sophie wasn’t sure that Rae, in her small hatchback, would be able to keep up with it if the driver decided to put his foot down. She hurried back to her own car, climbed in beside Barry, who was already in the driving seat, and they set off. As they drove away, she caught sight of Jessop and Osman just coming out of the house.

  ‘No need to push it, Barry,’ she said. ‘I don’t want him catching sight of us, and we have Rae in front. Let’s see how she does.’

  Rae’s voice came over the radio. ‘I don’t think he’s spotted me, ma’am. He’s sticking to the speed limit, heading west towards the town centre. I’ve let a couple of other vehicles get between us, so I think I’m safe.’

  There were a couple of minutes’ silence, then, ‘He’s approaching the main bridge over the river. Still going west.’

  ‘Okay, Rae. Stay back and out of trouble. We have the registration number, so this is just a bonus. We don’t know who he is, but he was definitely keeping a watch on Osman’s place. I want him to think he’s got away with it.’

  ‘Understood. He’s crossed the river but has turned off the main road. He’s heading uphill. The signs say Westham and Lanehouse. Does that help? It’s getting a bit trickier because the other cars didn’t turn off. It’s just him and me now.’

  ‘Okay,’ Sophie replied. ‘We’re catching up with you. I think I can see your lights in the distance. Barry says there’s a junction ahead of you. Slow down and try not to reach it until he’s already moved off.’

  ‘He’s just turned right. The sign says Lanehouse and Charlestown. We’re approaching a fish and chip shop. He’s taken a left. It’s tricky because he’s not indicating at all, not once, and he’s going faster. Wow. He’s gone. The driver put his foot down, ma’am, and he was off like a rocket. I’m not trying to keep up. I can just see his lights in the distance. He might be turning right. I’ll trundle along and have a look. I think I can see you in my mirror.’

  Barry stayed fifty yards behind Rae and followed as she turned right into a side road. Where was she? Sophie craned her neck, trying to spot the small hatchback. It was parked at the side of the road, its lights off. They drew in behind it. Rae’s voice came across the radio again.

  ‘I think he’s up in that cul-de-sac. Shall I take a walk, just to check?’

  ‘Wait for Barry. You can go together. It’ll be better camouflage. He’s just coming now.’

  While Sophie watched, Barry reached the small car. Rae was already on the street, waiting. She slipped her arm through her boss’s, moved in close and the two of them meandered slowly along the road, appearing to converse quietly. They were back within a few minutes.

  ‘The car’s in a parking area. I think it serves two or three rows of houses with a path to each. No one around. They must have got out pretty quick.’

  ‘We’ll sit tight for a while in case someone reappears.’

  The wait proved to be a waste of time. The night grew darker as clouds moved in from the west and obscured the moon. After half an hour, Sophie decided to abort the watch and return to the police station. But the question remained. Who had been watching Osman’s house, and why?

  Chapter 11: Convent Girl

  Wednesday Morning

  Martin Allen opened one eye and tried to focus on the bedside clock. Six thirty. Another fifteen minutes before he had to get up. Then he realised that there was no warm body beside him. Sophie must already be up and around, despite her late return the previous
night. He slid out of bed, put on his dressing gown and made his way downstairs to the kitchen. His wife was making sandwiches, and a flask was sitting on the kitchen table beside an empty backpack. She was wearing her favourite “action” clothes, as she called them — tan cord trousers, brown ankle boots and a thin wool jumper in a mottled pattern. Her brown leather jacket was on the back of a nearby chair. She looked up.

  ‘Sorry if I woke you. I was trying to creep around quietly, but I managed to knock the wastepaper bin over.’

  ‘It doesn’t matter,’ he said. ‘You know I like to have a couple of minutes with you before you head off on a case. Didn’t you sleep well?’

  ‘I was fine until six, and then those noisy birds woke me. I decided to get off early to beat the traffic. Sorry I was in so late last night, you know what it’s like.’

  He put his arms around her. ‘Of course. Don’t worry about it. What’s happened?’

  ‘One of our Weymouth detectives has gone missing. She’s closely linked to that death on Saturday.’ She shook her head. ‘Things don’t look good.’

  ‘There’s not much I can say, is there? Just look after yourself, Sophie. Please.’

  She returned the hug, then broke away and began to pack the food and drink into the bag. ‘Emergency rations, a life saver.’ She glanced at the clock. ‘I need to be off, honey-bun. Not sure when I’ll be back, but I’ll message you. Maybe a casserole again? See what Jade says.’

  ‘Leave it with the Senior Chef and his trusty assistant,’ he replied. ‘We’ll do our best to keep you fed and watered.’ He massaged her buttocks. ‘Now get yourself off, you’ve gotta show them who’s in charge.’

  ‘Sure thing, boss,’ she replied, smiling. ‘Anything you say.’

  He slapped her playfully and she gave him a quick kiss on the lips before grabbing her bag and making for the door. Sod. It was raining. Even so, she had the feeling that it might be a productive day. Since the weekend, Martin and Jade had stopped teasing her about being super, so things were undoubtedly looking up on the home front. At work, of course, things would only get worse.