The George Elms Trilogy Box Set

by Charlie Gallagher

  ‘I know the feeling. Please tell me you have something for me? Right now there are a number of people who don’t like me and I have to add a bored tactical team to the list. I’ve just got off the phone. They don’t seem to understand that sometimes they might need to wait for nothing to happen.’

  ‘I thought that would be something they were well used to.’

  ‘They’re on overtime, too. I can honestly say that this is the first time I have heard a team complain about being offered overtime to effectively sit on their arses.’

  ‘I have something.’

  ‘Go on.’

  ‘Land registry shows the Wingmores have owned a lot of land, but it’s largely what you’ve seen — the farm estate. It stretches over roads and parks. It has a lot of complicated paths, bridleways and right-of-ways attached to it. But, when you get down to the detail, it’s relatively simple.’

  ‘Have owned?’

  ‘Yeah. They sold off a lot of it around a decade ago. Now it’s just eight acres of land with the house sat in the middle.’

  ‘Just eight acres!’

  ‘I know! But compared to what they had before — three times that or more — it’s not much.’

  ‘So they would have come into a lot of money.’

  ‘I’m sure they would have been comfortable after the sale, yes. But it’s commercial land. Specifically it can only be used for farming. So it wouldn’t be as valuable as, say, housing land.’

  ‘Okay. And you said largely what I’ve seen? I’m always interested in what I haven’t seen.’

  ‘What you haven’t seen is a much smaller plot that is separate from the main house. It’s still registered in the name of Janice Wingmore and it was purchased just over five years ago. Since then they have built outhouses on it, which are registered as stables.’

  ‘Excellent! That ties in.’

  ‘I thought that. There’s a little more to it. The plot is jointly owned. A Miss A. Jeffries is listed on the agreement as part owning. I did a little open source research — basically seeing what was available online. There’s the trace of a Miss Andrea Jeffries at Companies House. She registered a business around five years ago, with her company address as being this stable block. It’s Whitsun Avenue, the address shows as Canterbury but it’s the outskirts of Elham really.’

  ‘So not far from Wingmore Farm.’

  ‘Not far at all.’

  ‘I also found an old social media profile for her and some online advertising. It’s pretty clear that she was running stables there. She was advertising for people to house and exercise their horses. There was also a manège facility — that’s walking your horse about, according to Google.’

  ‘“I like walking the horse about!” Shame she didn’t ask you to help her with her advertising.’

  Emily pushed the folder onto his desk. ‘It’s all in there. She has an old phone number listed. That’s in there too, for when you want to call her with your questions.’

  ‘How did you know?’

  ‘When have you ever not had follow-up questions?’

  ‘Fair point. Do you have an address for her? I prefer the turn-up-and-knock method.’

  ‘I knew you’d ask that too. I found a listing on the electoral register. She’s a bit closer to Canterbury, but not too far out.’

  George stood up. He scooped up the paperwork as he did. ‘Do you fancy a trip out?’

  ‘You’re going now?’

  ‘Right now. I mean, I know you probably have a date with all your mates . . .’

  ‘What do you need me for?’

  ‘Maybe I don’t need you for anything. Maybe I just thought you might like a trip out, you know? Get you out the office.’

  ‘You know I’m off-duty, right? That I’m already three hours past finishing?’

  ‘I was aware of that, yes.’

  ‘So again, what do you need me for?’

  ‘Fine. I need you to make a call. Get an out-of-hours technical request done.’

  ‘An out of hours? What for?’

  ‘I need a lump — a tracker stuck on the bottom of a horsebox. And I need it geo-fenced. The tactical team will have the monitoring equipment. Then I need an intelligence officer to brief them to stop it if it moves.’

  ‘You need . . . that makes no sense. What horsebox? I just told you . . . even if this plot exists, how would you know there’s a horsebox there.’

  George smiled. ‘I tell you what . . . if there isn’t, then we all get to go home.’

  Emily rolled her eyes. ‘I won’t hold my breath.’

  * * *

  Andrea Jeffries pulled the door open roughly. Her face wore an expression that suggested that a knock on her door at eight in the evening was not something she desired. Over jeans, she wore a tight-fitting Aran jumper that finished high on the neck. Her house smacked of country cottage to George. It was small, whitewashed and pretty. Perfectly formed. George stood at the front door that was dead centre.

  ‘I’m sorry to bother you, Miss Jeffries.’ George paused for a reaction. He got none and knew he was talking to the right person. ‘I’m Detective Inspector George Elms. I’m working out of Langthorne Police Station. There’s nothing to worry about, but I was hoping to have a few minutes of your time.’ George held up his badge.

  The woman’s expression changed all at once. Where she had looked ready for an argument, she now looked unsure. She stepped back into her property. ‘Did you want to come in?’

  The inside of the property was immaculate, everything in its place. George was led through to the kitchen where a slab of expensive-looking work surface jutted out towards the centre with high stools around it. She gestured for George to sit.

  ‘Can I get you a drink, Inspector?’

  ‘No, thank you. I don’t expect to be here long and, please, call me George.’

  ‘Thank you, but I prefer to keep these sorts of things formal. What did you say your surname was again, please?’

  ‘Elms.’

  ‘Like the tree?’

  ‘Well, like a couple of them, I suppose.’ He smiled, trying to lighten the mood. She made a show of writing down his details. ‘Did you need my force number too?’

  ‘No, thank you. That won’t be necessary. My partner plays golf at Etchinghill with a few of your bosses. Sometimes I tag along with the other wives. I just wanted to be sure I know who I’m talking about.’

  ‘Oh, well, I’m sure they’ll all know who I am.’

  ‘Quite. So how can I help you, Inspector? Can I assume this is about this awful business up at the farm?’

  ‘Which farm is that, Miss Jeffries?’

  She pursed her lips. ‘Is this a formal conversation? I can’t say I’ve ever had a formal conversation with a police officer.’

  ‘I can imagine. Good people rarely do, until something terrible happens.’

  ‘So you are here about Wingmore Farm? This is a small village, Inspector. I’m sure you understand how word gets around.’

  ‘I do. So tell me, what have you heard?’

  ‘Poor Mrs Wingmore, I heard she was murdered up there. A robbery gone wrong. I mean, my partner could probably find out all the details but I told him not to. We need to let the police do their thing. We need to trust them to keep us safe.’

  George bit his tongue. The next time she implied or mentioned links to senior officers he might not be able to. He came across it all the time, people thinking they needed to put you in your place from the start. Playing golf with a senior police officer might have meant something once. It certainly didn’t anymore.

  ‘You’re right, of course. But sometimes we need help to keep you safe. I understand you were close — to the Wingmores, I mean.’

  ‘Then you are misinformed, Inspector.’

  ‘Close enough to be business partners? To buy land together?’

  ‘An investment, a business proposition that they reneged upon is a more accurate description. I spoke with my solicitor just today in fact to establish wheth
er the events at the farm impact on our situation.’

  ‘What situation is that?’

  ‘Once again, is this a formal conversation?’

  ‘Depends what you mean by a formal conversation, Miss Jeffries. I am trying to find out a little more about the use of the plot you co-own with my victim. If you tell me there is a dispute over that land, then of course I am interested in that too.’

  ‘A legal dispute you understand, nothing more. I am extremely frustrated, Inspector, but I don’t hold any personal grudges. I happened to be very fond of Janice. I think we all were.’

  ‘We?’

  ‘The Women’s Society. Janice and I were both active members. She hasn’t been coming quite so often recently. I think she became aware of the tension over some of her husband’s recent decisions.’

  ‘What decisions were they?’

  Andrea Jeffries sighed. ‘I met Janice through the Women’s Society. We had a mutual love of horses and we built a friendship around it. It escalated to the point where we agreed to acquire a plot of land where we would rent stables and I would be able to offer a few other services. We built an exercise yard — one of those all-weather affairs — and we had some agility equipment and a few other bits and pieces. I was even getting involved in the selling of some tack up there. I had a supplier who offered me a reasonable cut. It was worth my while.’

  ‘So what happened?’

  ‘To this day I still don’t know, Inspector. We were making money. I was and Janice certainly was. Janice was very much a silent partner — it suited us both. This was my business and my passion and I have youth and ability on my side. Janice was happy for her cut on the stable rent and a smaller cut on the other elements and for my rent on the land. It was regular and it was on the up. Then she suddenly announced that the land couldn’t be used anymore for the business. She held all the cards you see. I was more than a little naïve in the creation of the contract between us. She purchased the land and I paid for the facilities. So of course she had the ability to determine its use. Or at least to determine what it was not to be used for. Out of the blue, I received a letter from a solicitor informing me that the land could no longer be used for any equestrian activity. I was effectively out of business overnight.’

  ‘Why would she do that?’

  Andrea shrugged. ‘A fair question, Inspector, and one I still haven’t had a reasonable answer to. Around eighteen months ago they suddenly didn’t want any equestrian activity on that land. Reading between the lines, I don’t think they wanted anyone on the land at all. Initially they tried to chuck me off but they realised that we had registered a business together and thankfully that gave me some protection. Then I received an offer to buy me out, which was worth more than the money I had put into the plot, but my argument remained that they should buy me out of the business I had built up, not the land. I suspected they were trying to force me out so they could start up the same thing again and claim the profits for themselves. All the hard work was done after all. Had they bought the business, the figure would have been much higher.’

  ‘So you turned them down.’

  ‘Of course I did. I worked bloody hard to get that business up and running. The stables were full with a two-year waiting list no less and the sales and services I was offering were increasing month by month. I had a staff of four. We were all suddenly out of a job. All my money was sunk into that plot so it wasn’t like I could just go somewhere else and set up again. I’m afraid they put me in a terrible situation and for the last eighteen months I have hardly moved away from it.’

  ‘I imagine that made you very angry.’

  ‘Frustrated, Inspector. Like I said, I want answers, really. But if they would have just let me start back up again I would have done it. My partner has a job in the city. He works long hours and stays up there most of the week. That business was our key to an easier life and a retirement plan. And I should be well on the way to it by now.’

  ‘Have you been there since?’

  ‘For the first few months I went up there a lot. I was trying to get something going and I just kept ending up there. I think I was in shock. I just couldn’t understand why they would just suddenly stop something so good. They wouldn’t even talk to me, save a few letters of correspondence from their solicitor. I had another silly offer for the land, then I had warning of a compulsory clearance order — they can’t do anything with the land while the business is in dispute, you see. I knew that was a bluff, as any court process would find that I had done nothing wrong. Eventually I stopped going up there and I stopped trying to talk to them. I have a solicitor — who fortunately is a friend of ours — otherwise I wouldn’t be able to afford her. She is trying to get some movement. I’m not sure what this all means for us now.’

  ‘Were you here Sunday evening?’

  ‘Yes. You’re not suggesting I would drive up there and shoot the woman, are you? I’m very upset with it all — damned frustrated — but I do draw the line at murder, Inspector! My partner and I were both here. We were alone. I think we ordered takeout, though, so there might be some sort of record of someone else having seen me here.’

  ‘I have to ask!’

  ‘I’m sure you do.’

  ‘Was the land still being used? After you closed down and while the dispute was going on? Any suggestion of the Wingmores using it for something else?’

  ‘Well, at first I was trying to make a point. There were vehicle tracks so I knew it was being used. Some things were moving about. I saw one of the horse transporters being towed there one day and I ran over with my phone and started taking pictures. They had made a fuss about how the land couldn’t be used for anything equestrian and of course I was hoping to trip them up. But the box was empty. The driver was some rough-looking lad. My solicitor said it wasn’t proof enough. I went up there a few times after that, and then I had this single moment of realisation. It came on a beautiful summer’s evening when the sun was just setting — so it would have been around 9 p.m. and I was sitting in my car, tucked behind a bush close to the entrance to the site. The transporter wasn’t there and I was waiting for it to come back with a horse in it. I suddenly thought what am I doing? I had wasted a beautiful summer’s evening. It wouldn’t have solved anything either. I realised at that very moment that I’d become obsessed and it wasn’t helping. I don’t think I’ve been back since.’

  ‘Are you aware of anyone else who has a dispute or a grievance with any of the family up there?’

  ‘I’m afraid not. I don’t really know who else would have anything to do with them, Inspector. I hope that doesn’t make me suspect number one!’

  ‘I don’t think so, Miss Jeffries. Just don’t leave the country! Thank you so much for taking the time this evening. I know where you are if I need to come and ask any more questions.’

  ‘So it seems. Do you think that land has anything to do with what happened? Is there anything I need to be aware of?’

  ‘We can’t rule anything out right now, Miss Jeffries. I’m sure you’ll hear all about it over a game of golf.’

  George waited until he got back into his car to make a phone call to Emily. She sounded even grumpier than she’d been before. She did confirm that the technical team had been able to install the tracker as he had requested. They had found a horsebox on the plot. The tracker was concealed under a wheel arch. The tracker linked with a computer programme via a mapping application. The map had defined points that formed a virtual ring around the horsebox — a ‘geo-fence.’ If the tracker was moved outside of that fence it would immediately send a text message to three defined phones and could then be tracked via a laptop. The tactical team sergeant had the laptop and one of the phones, Emily had the second and George pulled out the third from the armrest pocket in his car and switched it on. He sent Emily home. The tactical team were to remain at a police office within reasonable distance of the stables. George himself was heading home too. There was nothing more he could do now. And he had no
idea how long things might take.

  Chapter 31

  3 a.m. One phone ringing, the other making a shrill alarm sound. The geo-fence had been breached. The ringing was Emily Ryker.

  ‘I got it, the box is moving.’ George shifted across his living room. ‘How long for?’ He was still groggy; he had drifted off on his sofa. He was still fully clothed, including his shoes. His car keys were still in his pocket. He was out of the flat in less than thirty seconds. The cool air of the early hours of morning hit him all at once.

  ‘It’s stopped just outside the perimeter from what we can see,’ Ryker said. ‘I’m on the air with the tactical team. Are you monitoring the radio? We’re running on a talk-through.’

  ‘I will. Standby.’ George turned the handset on. It took a few seconds to connect to the network. He had left it monitoring the right channel. It was dedicated to his operation and no one else should be monitoring so they could talk to one another easily. The screen lit up immediately, and he heard the distinctive tones of the tactical team’s sergeant, Harry Robson.

  ‘Did you get my last, Emily?’

  ‘Sorry, I was updating the guvnor. He should be monitoring. Can you repeat, please?’

  ‘Yes, yes, the asset is on the move. We are making ground. Inspector Elms, confirm you are monitoring?’

  ‘It’s George. Let’s keep this informal. I am monitoring.’

  ‘What do you want from us, sir? Sorry, George.’

  George was in his car. His headlights raked across the beach as he turned round and accelerated.

  ‘What I want is to put a stop on the asset. I’ll leave the tactics up to you, Harry. If you’re not happy to stop it then I just need to know where it ends up and we will get a perimeter on it until I can get you more resources. Assume they are armed and assume they will use extreme violence.’

  ‘Received that. We are in two unmarked vehicles. I will make ground and try and get a visual. Yankee Two, stay close, but out of sight. We’ll have to play this one by ear.’

  George heard a confirmation from the other call sign. He could hear the excitement in their voices — this was what they lived for. He had concerns though: four officers and two cars was a lot less than would usually be sent to do an armed stop on a moving vehicle. He didn’t think Harry and his men would attempt it. He couldn’t blame them really.