“He was sentenced to eighteen years for his part in…” she held her breath, building the anticipation and watching Caslin’s interest grow, “the 1986 Manchester Airport raid.”
“Well, that’s relevant,” Caslin said smiling. “The ever-expanding circle.”
“He was one of the last to be picked up hence why he received a lesser sentence than many of the others. The case had dropped from the public consciousness and I guess the judge wasn’t looking to set such an example as a deterrent.”
“Was Neville linked to either MacEwan, Dade or Fuller in a professional capacity prior to the customs house job?” Holt asked.
Hunter shook her head, “There isn’t really enough information to make a judgement on that. Fuller and Dade were close in age and were moving in the same circles and so it would be reasonable to assume they knew each other but whether that stretched to criminal enterprise is a leap. Regarding MacEwan… the man’s still a bit of an enigma. We just don’t know enough about him.”
“Okay, changing tack,” Caslin said, returning his focus to the noticeboard. “Any lead on the mysterious redhead occupying Jody Wyer’s life?”
“None at all,” Hunter said. “We’ve been through his personal effects, the house, car… we’ve got nothing apart from a toothbrush, toiletries and some red hair in a brush.”
Caslin sucked air through his teeth, “I can’t help but think she ties in to all of this.”
“Why?” Hunter asked.
“Well, for one thing because he kept her a secret from everyone else and secondly, he was working from home and keeping that a secret too. If she was spending so much time there, she might know what he was working on. It doesn’t look like he was trying to hide it from her,” Caslin explained, “which at most makes her a part of it or at least, a confidant. Either way, I want to find her and let’s not forget, he’s been murdered and she hasn’t come forward. That tells me she knows something, or she’s scared of someone.”
“Could she also have played a part in killing him?” Holt asked.
“We certainly can’t rule it out.”
The sound of the doors opening behind them saw them turn. DCI Matheson entered purposefully. Caslin read the look of consternation on her face.
“Ma’am,” he said in greeting.
“You’ve been making enquiries around Clinton Dade’s operation,” she said.
Caslin nodded, “Yes, we have. Why, what’s up?”
“Uniform have just come across Dade,” she replied, “and you’re going to want to see it.”
Chapter Eighteen
The pitch of the engine increased noticeably as Hunter dropped a gear and pulled out from behind the slow-moving lorry. She was itching to reach the scene just as much as he was and Caslin could feel the anticipation growing inside him. The A166 towards Stamford Bridge was a busy road, east of York, the most direct route to the coast if not the fastest. They weren’t going that far. Hunter slowed as the sat nav indicated an approaching left turn. Seeing the sign for the village of Holtby she eased off and left the highway.
“Through the village, wasn’t it?” she asked, flicking her eyes at the screen set into the dashboard.
“Yes. Should be a right turn as we come up on Brockfield,” Caslin advised her. Hunter nodded, focusing on the road ahead. Holtby came and went in a flash. One of the many tiny villages peppering the rural Yorkshire landscape, Caslin couldn’t help but wonder how they came to be out here. Their route cut back to the west before turning north again, navigating the patchwork of farmland delineated by hedgerows and tree lines. Hunter turned on the indicators to signal they were turning onto Rudcarr Lane although Caslin didn’t know why she bothered. There was no one out here to inform of the manoeuvre. Here, the road narrowed to such an extent that should they meet a vehicle coming in the other direction there would be the distinct possibility one or the other would need to pull off the road to give way.
Winter crops were visible in fields to either side of them and the road was interspersed with barren oak trees, their leaves shed in late autumn.
“There,” Caslin said, pointing ahead to a liveried police car, its nose visible at the next turn in the road. Reaching the bend, Hunter pulled the car to the verge. They were alongside an opening to the field beyond with a small patch of flat ground between them and a gate. The gate itself was wooden and in a poor state of repair, hanging from one of the hinges. It had clearly been some time since it was opened with the hedgerow bordering the field now spreading across the posts. Alongside the gate was a stile, allowing access to the public path over the fields. This was in a far better condition. The landowner must have found a better access point for his machinery and abandoned this one years ago.
Caslin found his attention drawn to why they were there. A dark blue Mercedes was parked up, facing the highway, underneath a giant oak tree. Iain Robertson noted their arrival and beckoned them over.
“One of yours, I believe?” he said by way of greeting, approaching them and tilting his head in the direction of the car.
“Is it Dade?” Caslin asked, falling into step alongside the forensics officer.
“Identification in his wallet says so,” Robertson confirmed. “But you’re going to need a few tests to be sure.”
“That bad?” Hunter asked.
“Aye,” Robertson said under his breath, leading them down the passenger side of the car towards the rear.
The car doors were all closed. The rear passenger window was shattered with much of the glass falling inwards into the interior. The remainder was fractured in every direction but held precariously in place despite the driving wind rattling across the flat lands surrounding them. Caslin noted the drainage ditch running alongside the road, assisting to keep the farmland from flooding. Robertson noticed the glance. “We’ll be dredging the ditch just in case they dumped the weapon or anyone else for that matter, in there before leaving.”
“What do you think?” Caslin asked, returning his attention to the car and its passenger.
“Shotgun,” Robertson said with a frown. “Most likely a sawn-off. The nature of the tissue damage is indicative of a wide directional spray from both barrel and cartridge.”
Caslin peered through the window into the cabin, exhaling deeply as he registered the state of the interior. Immediately, he knew Alison Taylor would need a DNA sample to confirm the identity of the victim. Even a cursory inspection of the body slumped across the rear seat reinforced that view. In no way would a facial verification be suitable and he guessed a dental match would be equally unsuccessful. The rear window, roof, along with the upholstery were all coated in blood spatter, skin tissue and what Caslin assumed were skull and brain fragments.
“Point blank,” he muttered under his breath.
“And several shots, I should imagine,” Robertson stated. Caslin looked up at him. “We found two spent cartridges over there,” he said, pointing to a patch of ground a few feet away. “I think the killer, or killers, put in two blasts before reloading and doing the same again. That’s why you see what you see. They wanted to make absolutely certain.”
Caslin shook his head, “No. That’s not it.”
“Then what?” Robertson asked.
“This was personal.”
“Or they wanted it to appear so. Either way, I think the victim was almost certainly known to his killer,” Robertson said. Caslin was intrigued.
“How do you know?”
“The window,” Robertson said, pointing to the glass. Caslin looked but didn’t see what he was supposed to. He raised an eyebrow in a query. “It’s on its way down… or up. The victim had lowered it. The top of the glass is down four inches. If he was a smoker, then I can imagine he might want it open in this weather but there’s no butt dropped either inside or out. I’d wager it’s more likely he was conversing with someone, probably the killer. Liver temperature sets the time of death at around midnight.”
“Who could have got Clinton Dade to come all the w
ay out here at that time of night?” Hunter asked.
“Someone he knew,” Caslin said quietly, following Robertson’s hypothesis. “The end result suggests someone who held a grudge. That might be a reason why they came out here – to be on neutral ground.”
“But for such a lethal threat to get this close unchallenged…” Hunter left the thought unfinished, looking to Robertson to answer the unasked question.
“No, there are no other victims as far as we can tell,” Robertson confirmed. “We’ll carry out a full fingertip search of the surrounding area but there are no blood trails or evidence anyone else was attacked.”
“What about up front?” Caslin asked, stepping to his left and peering through the front passenger window, assessing where the driver would have been sitting. Despite a significant amount of blood in the interior, he saw nothing leading him to believe the driver was also hit.
“The spray and subsequent spatter passing from the rear to the front of the cabin is consistent with a high-velocity impact,” Robertson said, bending over and following Caslin’s sightlines. “Judging from where it struck,” he indicated the front windscreen as well as the inside of the driver’s window, “I reckon there was no one sitting there when the gun went off.”
“Which gives us a further couple of questions,” Caslin said, “presuming you’re correct about no other victims being present. Either the driver got out of the car to speak with, challenge, or greet the gunman and then made a run for it when everything hit the fan or…” he left the thought hanging as he looked around the immediate vicinity, playing the various scenarios out in his head. “He was complicit in some way.”
“He could have been the gunman?” Hunter said, clarifying the thought.
“I’m not convinced of that but it would explain how he managed to get so close,” Caslin said. “And one thing’s for certain, if this is Clinton Dade, he didn’t drive himself out here. We need to find the person who did. If the driver’s running, we’ll have to find him before the killer does. Likewise, if it was the same person, Dade’s crew will also be looking for him and if they get there first, he won’t be telling us anything. Knowing the names of those in this circle, we’re on the clock. I reckon if he survives twenty-four hours, then he’ll be doing well.”
“I know it’s an obvious thought but you’ve got to put the Fullers in the frame,” Hunter said. “This kind of thing is right up Carl’s street, wouldn’t you say?”
Caslin had to admit the thought had already occurred to him. There was every chance one or the other faction sought a meeting in order to calm the situation down, particularly as Dade was so insistent that he wasn’t to blame for the bombing. A neutral location away from prying eyes was logical. Caslin looked around for the nearest sign of habitation. There were two farmhouses, each surrounded by agricultural buildings, and both were at least three hundred metres away in opposite directions across the fields. This location was nigh on perfect for carrying out such a hit. No witnesses. No cameras. No one to see either party arrive or depart. Minimal chances of being seen let alone caught. Something didn’t sit right with him though. An instinctive feeling that had almost always served him well in the past.
“I can’t see Ashton going for it though. Can you?” he replied to Hunter.
“Ashton got the brains of the family but Carl runs the muscle. Perhaps he didn’t know,” she countered. Caslin inclined his head at the suggestion.
“Any sign of other vehicles?” Caslin asked, turning his attention back to Robertson.
“The ground is frozen solid, I’m afraid,” he replied. “Very little chance of pulling tyre impressions but we’ll do our best.”
“I’ll arrange to have the local properties canvassed,” Hunter said, seeking Caslin’s permission with an inquiring glance. He nodded. “We might get lucky.”
The sound of an approaching vehicle came to ear and Caslin turned, looking down the road in the direction of Brockfield. The car was moving at pace and it seemed to be out of the ordinary somehow. The driver eased off as he came upon the police cordon, coming to a stop in the middle of the road. Caslin watched as two men got out. Recognising the driver, he indicated for Robertson to carry on with his work and made his way towards the new arrivals. A uniformed constable was already stepping across to block their advance. A movement that was not well received. The driver of the car chose to disregard the officer’s instructions and attempted to bypass him. The officer placed a firm hand on the man’s shoulder and issued a direct instruction to stop but was ignored.
“It’s okay,” Caslin called as he approached. The uniformed officer had a firm grasp on the man’s clothing and he was about to make an arrest before Caslin intervened. The second man stood a few steps behind and held his ground, watching to see what was about to happen. “Alli, isn’t it?” Caslin asked. The man glared first at the constable, despite being released, and then at Caslin.
“Is it him?” Alli asked, almost spitting venom as the words passed his lips and looked beyond Caslin towards the blue Mercedes.
“We think so,” Caslin confirmed. At confirmation of Dade’s apparent demise, Alli visibly appeared to shrink in stature before him. He looked to the ground at his feet, drawing deep breaths and Caslin realised he was trying not to break down. “How did you know he was out here?” he asked. The bitter anger in Alli’s eyes dissipated to be replaced by a somewhat lost expression. Tears welled and Caslin saw at that moment the true nature of their relationship.
“Word travels,” Alli said as if that answered the question.
“Was Clinton out here to meet someone last night?” Caslin asked. All of a sudden, Alli’s expression changed from grief stricken to guarded. He shrugged.
“How would I know?”
“Word travels,” Caslin replied with no hint of sarcasm. “Of all people, you should know what his plans were.”
“He didn’t say,” Alli stated. “I want to see him.”
“I’m afraid that’s not possible at the moment,” Caslin said before adding, “and inadvisable.” Alli looked past him, once again, in the direction of the car and the forensic team crawling all over it.
“They’ll pay for this.”
“Who will, Alli?”
“Mark my words,” he reiterated.
“Remember you’re talking to a police officer,” Caslin warned him. “I’m not your priest.” Alli met his eye. He said nothing further but the fire of revenge flared in his eyes. “Any idea who he was out here with? Who was driving?” Caslin asked, glancing first to Alli and then his associate off to his right. Again, Alli declined to answer, his gaze drifting across the scene. The second man shook his head almost imperceptibly when Caslin lifted a casual finger in his direction.
“You’re going to be a busy man, Inspector Caslin,” Alli stated, turning his gaze back to him.
“Leave this to us,” Caslin said, as sternly as he could. For his part, Alli smiled but it was tight-lipped and cold. “The best thing you can do is tell me what Clinton was doing out here before anybody else gets killed.”
The smile faded and Alli took a deep breath, drawing himself upright. In doing so he more than matched Caslin for height and his stature returned to the imposing figure of their first meeting.
“Don’t worry, Inspector,” he said with menacing undertones. “It’ll be over soon enough.”
“You’ll be starting a war,” Caslin warned.
“They came at us,” Alli hissed.
“This is one you might not be able to win.”
“We’ll see about that,” he said, taking a couple of steps back before turning on his heel. He snapped his fingers towards the other man who fell into step alongside him. They strode back to their car. Caslin watched and as they reached it, Alli glanced back at him while opening the driver’s door. He stopped, his gaze lingering for a few moments on Caslin and then back to the crime scene beyond. Caslin remained impassive as Hunter came to stand with him. Alli got into the car, slamming the door shut. He
started the engine and crunched the gears as he set the car into reverse, moving off at speed. Alli manoeuvred the vehicle into a passing area and swiftly turned the car around. With one last angry look in Caslin’s direction, he accelerated away, the tyres squealing momentarily as they sought traction.
“That didn’t appear to go well,” Hunter said.
“No. You’re quite right about that,” Caslin replied. “This is going to escalate quickly.”
“What do you want to do?”
“Get us a search warrant for the Fullers,” he said, turning to her. “It might be best if we can take them off the streets for a while.”
“Is that wise?” she asked, looking concerned. “I mean, I know they’ll be targets but we don’t have a lot to go on that will hold them for a second longer than it takes for their brief to turn up.”
“Let’s see where the warrant gets us.”
“Okay, where will we search?”
“Everywhere,” Caslin said. “I want every business and residential premises tied to them turned over. Oh… and I want it done today.”
“That’ll take some doing,” Hunter stated.
“You sort out the paperwork and I’ll have a word with DCI Matheson about drawing the bodies. She offered to help and this,” he said, indicating over his shoulder with a flick of the hand, “should be motivation enough. If we don’t put a lid on it, then Dade will just be the beginning.”
Chapter Nineteen
Pulling into the forecourt of the disused petrol station they found it deserted. The handful of men operating the car wash were nowhere to be seen. The cabin they operated out of was securely closed and there was no sign of recent activity. Hunter pulled their car to the side and parked up. Four liveried police vehicles pulled in behind them, fanning out and blocking both entrance and exit from the site. Getting out of the car, Caslin looked around. There were no sounds carrying from the building site to the rear either. He looked at his watch to check the time. It was a quarter after two and except for New Year’s Eve, he couldn’t imagine a construction site shutting down this early. Indicating to the waiting officers, they headed over to the site entrance. This too, was closed off by a length of Herras fencing. Looking beyond it and into the compound, Caslin could clearly see several vehicles parked outside the portacabin.
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