Suspect

by Nicholas Rhea

  ‘Some would say he did.’

  ‘I agree, Mark, plenty have suggested he did, but there’s never been any proof.’

  ‘Do you accept Hadley’s version of events?’

  ‘I don’t accept anything, Mark. I’m just thinking aloud, trying to sort out the vital elements.’

  ‘Look at it from another angle,’ Pemberton suggested. ‘Does it matter whether or not Newton was part of the raiding gang? Does it matter whether or not he was a crook?’

  ‘Are you saying it’s acceptable to kill a crook who’s in the act of committing a crime?’

  ‘No, I’m not saying that. What I’d like to establish is whether Hadley killed an innocent man. What I want to know is whether Newton was involved in the raid on that security van, and whether he was armed at the time.’

  ‘The official enquiry—’ she began.

  ‘I’m not concerned with what the official enquiry concluded, Lorraine. I want to know for myself. I want to know because there seem to be some grave doubts about the whole affair. There’s a deep feeling, even among our own officers, that Hadley did kill an innocent man and somehow managed to cover up his crime. When that belief persists among our own people, Lorraine, we can’t ignore it. I can’t ignore it.’

  ‘Newton was known to the police, Mark — that could be a factor.’

  ‘He was never convicted,’ he reminded her. ‘He had no criminal record, but the file does record that he came to the notice of the local CID from time to time. He had no job, yet he had a comfortable life-style. He was getting an income from somewhere, the theory being that he lived off the proceeds of crime. But nothing was ever proved, no identifiable proceeds of crime were ever found in his possession or at his home.’

  ‘That’s rather odd,’ she mused. ‘In some ways, it’s rather like that man Pearle. He was never convicted and now he’s dead. But we know he was murdered.’

  ‘A vigilante revenge, eh?’ He smiled.

  ‘It’s the sort of thing vigilantes might do if they got out of hand,’ Lorraine said. ‘An eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth…’

  ‘Hand for hand, foot for foot, burning for burning, wound for wound, stripe for stripe,’ Mark completed the biblical quote. ‘So should we investigate the background of Joseph Newton, otherwise known as Joss, the so-called innocent father of two?’

  ‘You can’t, Mark! That would have been done at the time. It’s all over, enquiries into Newton’s death have been completed, there’s nothing you can do, nothing you should do. You know that.’

  ‘Lorraine, I want to get to the bottom of this — I need to know the truth about Hadley’s action that day. I would hate to have a cold-blooded murderer working in my office!’ and Mark Pemberton shuddered at the thought. ‘You know, looking back at Millgate, I do wonder about Hadley’s mental state that day. We know he’s been ill since that time, but maybe he was ill both before and during the incident. Has that been considered? I’m asking whether he was in total control of his actions that day, as indeed a firearms trained police officer should be. Was he controlled enough to kill if necessary, yet brave enough not to pull the trigger when there was doubt?’

  ‘If he was sick at the time, it might explain some of the confusion and doubt,’ she said.

  ‘He could have been ill without anyone knowing,’ Mark mused. ‘He might not even have realised himself. I must admit he could have shot Newton in cold blood. And that thought worries me. It worries me a lot. For that reason, and because the chap is working in my department, I might just do a little investigating of my own, in my own time, just to satisfy my curiosity.’

  ‘You’d be stirring up a lot of mud, Mark, especially if you start asking questions all over again,’ she cautioned him. ‘There’d be real trouble if the press, or Newton’s family, got wind of your activities, more so if they knew Hadley was back at work in the CID! It’s over, Mark, it’s finished, you’d better forget it.’

  But she knew Mark Pemberton would not rest until he had thoroughly investigated the events which occurred outside Millgate supermarket two years ago.

  In spite of Lorraine’s reservations, Pemberton decided that a visit to the forecourt of the supermarket was a good start. In the investigation of any crime, a visit to the scene was vital.

  He decided to undertake the trip next Saturday because some groceries were required. He and Lorraine were off duty that weekend, so they could combine their domestic routine with a spot of quiet and unofficial police work in Fawneswick.

  As Mark said, ‘You can shop, and I can snoop. We can shop and snoop at Millgate. How’s that for a slogan?’

  ‘Terrible!’ She cringed.

  On the Saturday morning, they arrived at the supermarket just as the doors were opening at 8.30am. The raid had occurred around that time, albeit in midweek, and on this occasion Mark and Lorraine managed to park their white Vauxhall Astra in the street outside. That street was called Millgate, a steep, cobbled road. There was a two-hour limit at this point, adequate for their purpose, and Mark was pleased that he had been able to park in the precise place occupied two years ago by Detective Sergeant Swanson and Detective Constable Watson. From the same spot, they had kept observations on the premises and Mark realised they had had a clear view of the forecourt.

  In large bold letters across the entrance, and in line with the pavement which ended at each end of the supermarket forecourt, was the legend ‘No Parking’ and Pemberton’s front wheels were almost touching the demarcation line of that restricted area. The tiny forecourt was not the main car-park, however. A far larger public car-park lay behind the supermarket and it led into the rear entrance of the shopping complex. Most of the shoppers used that park, rather than the one now being scrutinised by Mark and Lorraine.

  When full, the entire forecourt could accommodate only eight cars, four at each side. Four spaces were for disabled drivers with a two-hour limit, the other four being for shoppers with a one-hour limit. Each of these parking areas was at an outer edge of the forecourt — as you looked at it from Millgate towards the supermarket, the disabled park was on the right with the other four spaces on the left. Parking was not allowed upon the oblong area between the two series of parking spaces, this being used for delivery vehicles and, of course, to allow the incoming and outgoing cars to manoeuvre.

  The front wall of the supermarket, which overlooked the forecourt, comprised two storeys, the upper one being used for storage and offices and the lower one being the shop floor. The upper storey had several small windows high in the brick wall while two large doors provided the supermarket entrances — one, the goods entrance, opened almost on to the disabled parking spaces, and adjoining this was a small door for use by the staff. The goods delivery entrance was a large metal sliding door, most unattractive and in need of a coat of paint. It was identified by a sign on the wall, announcing, ‘Goods Entrance. No Smoking. No Parking. Authorised Personnel Only.’ For the customers, there was a revolving door of sturdy glass and this was situated close to the four public parking spaces. The length of wall in between the entrances was of ornamental brick and bore the logo of the supermarket, a millwheel superimposed upon a five-bar gate. A gaudy clock adorned the high centre of the wall, also with the logo upon its face. The entire forecourt was cobbled in keeping with both the neighbouring street and the town’s ancient image. The only other furniture was a metal litter bin standing against the wall behind the invalid parking places, and a bench alongside. It would accommodate three or perhaps four persons.

  Prior to their visit, both Mark and Lorraine had examined photographs and plans of this forecourt, and they now sought to familiarise themselves by matching the actuality with the official photographs and plans. In silence, each examined the layout of the entrance, the disposition of the disabled and general parking lots and the relative position of the adjoining houses, shops and offices. They also measured the distances to where each of the discarded cartridge shells had been found and where the loaded shotgun had been located.r />
  Some of the windows of the adjoining premises overlooked the parking area, Pemberton knew, and some of those premises had been utilised by the police as they had established their ambush on the day. Although Pemberton’s memory was clear and his powers of recollection very good, he had brought a selection of the documents with him, plus some notes of his own. He carried these in his pocket, not wishing to leave sensitive material in his car. One factor was that the abortive and tragic raid had occurred two years ago which meant that the forecourt might have been altered in some material way. Each bore that possibility in mind.

  From the anonymity of the car, Mark pointed immediately to his right. ‘Four disabled parking spaces,’ he said partly to himself and partly to Lorraine. ‘At the time of the raid, there was a van parked there. It used the space closest to the goods entrance. It was a small van, a Ford Escort according to one witness, and in the rear, seen through a window at the back, was a wheelchair. It had been stolen and bore false number plates. It was used by two of the raiders, Pollard and Sykes, to hide in as they awaited the arrival of the Cerberus security vehicle. It was to be left behind when they made their escape in the waiting getaway car.’

  ‘Did anyone see it arrive, Mark?’ Lorraine asked. ‘Just to our right there are two shops — a shoe shop and a wool shop immediately across the pavement from us. Maybe the staff noticed something?’

  ‘No, they were questioned about that. No one saw it arrive, which implies it came very early, before the shop workers reported in, before the supermarket staff arrived,’ he reminded her. ‘There’s a house next to the shoe shop and its windows overlook the goods entrance and the far end of the disabled car-park. No one in the house or shops noticed the arrival of that van, even though the shop windows overlook the parking spaces. The shop assistants in both places were too busy preparing for their day to worry about things happening on the supermarket forecourt. Similarly, the lady in the cottage, who lives alone and is a pensioner, did see the van in position about 8.15am, but didn’t notice its actual arrival. She suspected nothing sinister because disabled people often arrive early so that they can tour the supermarket without the hassle of crowded aisles and over-loaded trolleys. No one in any of the premises overlooking the forecourt witnessed the actual raid.’

  Lorraine was studying the other side of the parking area. ‘Four spaces there,’ she commented. ‘Were any of them used as the raid was under way?’

  ‘No,’ he said. ‘The getaway car was parked on the street, Millgate that is, facing the same direction that we are now, with a man at the wheel, engine running. That was Gill, unarmed. He parked at the far side of that “No Parking” area, engine running and ready for off. All four parking spaces were empty. The getaway car was stolen, and it bore false plates. Gill was arrested at the same time as the others and the car was impounded before it could be driven away.’

  ‘And overlooking that side of the parking area is a solicitors’ office and a restaurant.’ Lorraine was peering at the respective premises.

  ‘Yes, the solicitors’ office has two floors. One of its upper windows overlooks the whole area. There was a police marksman in that window, which was open. It is normally open to allow a circulation of fresh air when the office is being used. That marksman had a first-rate view of all the front doors of the supermarket and of the rear of the security van as it reversed into position ready to deliver the cash. The other place is a restaurant which is on the first floor — access is by a flight of steps which led from this street, they ascend with the car-park spaces on your right. As you climb, there is a window which overlooks the parking spaces, and there is a further window on the landing, looking in the same direction. Inspector Hadley was on that staircase because it commands a broad view of the forecourt, with ready access through the door which is on the corner formed by the forecourt and the pavement. The downstairs accommodation of the restaurant is used as a holiday cottage; it’s fully equipped but it was empty at the time. The police did not see fit to make use of it — they had enough vantage points.’

  ‘And I can see an alley in the far corner, Mark. Where’s it lead?’

  ‘The wall of the supermarket extends along that alley, Lorraine, and you can see that it reaches along the hidden side of the solicitors’ office. Further along there is a flight of steps which turns a corner, and the alley then leads to a narrow street. Cholmley Street, it’s called. The alley’s called Acorn Alley.’

  ‘And that’s where Newton appeared from, if I remember correctly?’

  ‘Yes, according to Hadley. Now, the reports from waiting police officers state that the two raiders, Pollard and Sykes, emerged from their van which was parked on the disabled area. They made their move as the security guards were emerging from their vehicle, having reversed it into position near the tradesmen’s entrance. The raiders’ first job was to deal with the guards as they prepared to deliver the cash. As they were carrying out this raid, armed with guns, the waiting policemen went into action. It was at that precise moment that Newton came out of that alley. It was unexpected, a total surprise. Hadley, who had, at that instant, also just emerged from his hiding place, was the only person to see him. In statements taken from the police and the Cerberus guards, none of them noticed Newton’s arrival — their minds were on other more urgent things! Not even the raiders saw him turn up. But Hadley did. Hadley saw him and reacted, all within a split second because he swore Newton was bearing a gun which was pointing at a detective. Hadley’s official firearm was at the ready for instant use in case he had to assist in the arrest of the perpetrators and halt the raid. According to Hadley, DS Swanson was crossing the forecourt over to Hadley’s right to assist with the arrest of the raiders, which meant that Newton’s gun was pointing at him. Swanson, according to both Hadley and Swanson himself, was totally unaware of the danger and Hadley, acting with the speed of light to prevent his death, thought he had no alternative but to shoot Newton. Other shots were discharged — we know they came from Sykes. In the chaos that followed, no one seems quite sure what happened in the next few seconds, or how many shots were actually fired or in what sequence the shots were fired, but the raiders were disarmed and arrested. Some moments, minutes even, passed before Newton’s body was approached by armed police but no weapon was found on the body or lying nearby. However, there was a shotgun lying some five yards away; it was loaded but broken. One theory is that Hadley’s shots propelled it from Newton’s grasp when it fell to the ground and broke open without discharging any shots. Another gun, empty, was recovered from Sykes. Out of all this, Lorraine, a gun seems to be missing. So what in the name of God happened to it? Swanson maintains that Pollard was armed and that the fallen, broken gun belonged to him. Pollard also said that, albeit some time later when interviewed by Newton’s brother. Sadly, no one else can confirm that. Other officers were concentrating on Sykes and Gill; the security van’s guards were out of the sight of Hadley, the security vehicle stood between them. Pollard was at the rear of the van beyond the vision of all the officers at the critical moment; he was there to prevent the guards escaping via that route. Out of all those people, only Hadley saw Newton come on to the forecourt which means that no one except Hadley can say whether or not he was armed. There are holes in this, Lorraine, and we are left with a mighty mystery.’

  ‘The gun?’

  ‘Yes, the loaded gun. Is there any way of finding out who had it in his hands at the time of the raid?’

  ‘There were other policemen hidden around the forecourt, in the buildings?’ Lorraine said. ‘Surely one of those saw Newton’s arrival? Surely someone noticed Pollard with a gun?’

  ‘No.’ He was emphatic. ‘That’s the problem. The raid was under way, they all had their orders and were concentrating on other things, a very tense time for all. It’s interesting to speculate that if Newton had turned tail and run, no one would have noticed him, but he didn’t. He came forward and died as a consequence.’

  ‘If Hadley is telling the truth,
’ observed Lorraine, ‘he reacted with remarkable speed and confidence and undoubtedly saved the life of one of his officers.’

  ‘Perhaps. Or he shot Newton in cold blood and managed to cover up his crime,’ said Pemberton. ‘Whatever he did that day, Lorraine, I must know the answer. That’s why we are here.’

  Chapter Five

  ‘Look,’ said Lorraine eventually, ‘you mooch about while I do the shopping. You might even get around to asking if any of the locals saw anything on the day. They’ll still remember it.’

  ‘If they did see anything, the police should have interviewed them at the time. But yes, I would like to savour the atmosphere.’

  He drove on to the forecourt, none of the four spaces having yet been taken, and reversed into the marked area nearest the entrance. This was outside the solicitors’ office, he noted.

  ‘I’ll meet you back here in half an hour?’ Lorraine suggested.

  ‘Fine,’ he agreed.

  His main point of interest was the route by which Newton had gained access to the forecourt. Hadley had been quite clear in his statement that Newton had emerged from the narrow confines of Acorn Alley at the point where it led on to the forecourt; that was at the north-west corner. The alley was almost concealed; a stranger might be unaware of it and people might think it was the entrance to private premises rather than a public thoroughfare. As the tall, elegant and slender figure of Lorraine, armed with her shopping bags, made for the revolving entrance, Mark locked his car to inspect Acorn Alley.

  It emerged only some ten or twelve feet to the nearside of his car and, even in the morning light, was dark and rather sombre.