The George Elms Trilogy Box Set

by Charlie Gallagher

  An hour and a half later he was in the queue for an overpriced services coffee and Ryker still hadn’t replied. He considered sending another but changed his mind quickly. He was pretty certain he hadn’t done anything to upset her. She was probably just busy.

  He walked his coffee over to a table against a window and opened the email from HMP again, this time pressing on the attachment. It took a while for his phone to work. He took the opportunity to look around, checking there was no one close. Most people appeared to be passing through and the few sitting anywhere near him were taking no notice. The attachment finally downloaded and he opened up the prisoner log. It was small on his phone, so he zoomed in as best he could. It was a scanned handwritten document: the dates and times were down the left-hand column; the wider column captured Roberts’s movements. Every aspect of his life was recorded. It made for pretty bland reading. Henry Roberts was given three meals a day. Mostly he had these in his cell and, from the small cross-section George scrolled through, it seemed they often came back untouched. He didn’t interact with staff at all. His demeanour was recorded as withdrawn or sullen, but no concern was written after each entry. He continued scrolling through the same daily routine: breakfast at 07:30 hours, nurse visits at 08:30, 12:00, 16:00 hours, and a supervised visit to the prison chapel at 18:00 hours that usually lasted around an hour. Some nights were punctuated with a medical visit, too. He noted from the signatures that there were just two different nurses. The names were largely illegible but he could make out a few CBs. It looked like Roberts was reading a lot of books, but he did very little else. He closed the file; there was nothing of any interest to him there. He checked his watch. It was nearly 10 a.m. He needed to get back on the road.

  Emma Rowe met George personally this time. He was back at the front counter of Hereford Police Station. She looked a little more relaxed than the last time he had seen her. She was back in a smart trouser suit. It seemed to suit her better than the jeans and hiking boots.

  ‘How are you, George?’

  ‘Long time no see!’ he quipped.

  ‘I know. Lucky you. You get the joys of Hereford twice in a week. You could have just picked up the phone, though, George. I’ll be honest, I was expecting just a call.’

  ‘I know. I’ve never been a big fan of the phone. Not when something’s important.’

  ‘Sounds ominous. I know what you mean, though. We’d better get a coffee on the way then.’

  George took a tea. There were more biscuits too, a good selection. He declined. Anyone who knew him would have seen that as a sure sign of bad news. Emma didn’t know him well but she was still watching him expectantly. Like she knew he wouldn’t drive two hundred miles just because he didn’t like phones.

  ‘We met with Roberts. Straight after our last visit here. I’ll be honest, it probably wasn’t the best time. It was hard.’

  ‘I can imagine. Don’t beat yourself up about that, I wouldn’t have been able to do it, I know that much.’

  ‘Someone had to. The Major came with me.’

  ‘The Major?’

  ‘Sorry, Whittaker — the chief inspector.’

  ‘Ah. That would make sense. I assume he’s army. If ever a man carried himself like a major . . .’

  ‘Exactly so. It’s like there’s a steel rod from his heels up to the back of his head.’

  ‘They all have the same.’

  George was stalling. Emma wore an expression he recalled seeing on his mum’s face whenever he was building up to telling her he’d misbehaved. It somehow said that it was okay to tell her, to get it off his chest. ‘Henry Roberts didn’t give up another site.’

  Her expression changed instantly. From benign interest to anger. ‘That was the agreement though, right?’ She was clearly battling to stay calm.

  ‘The agreement was that he gave us the location of the two missing girls. He’s done that Emma. They were both there.’

  ‘Both there? At that site? Did we miss something? The forensic team are still there, do I need to—’

  ‘We didn’t miss anything, Emma. He left both the girls together. They are still in that contraption.’

  ‘The Brazen Bull.’

  ‘Yes. They’re in there together.’

  ‘At the same time? Is that even possible? I’m not even sure they could fit.’

  George shrugged. ‘He didn’t give too many details. I’m not sure how they ended up like that but he said we will find remains in there and they will be a combination of our two missing girls. It doesn’t change anything for the forensics team, does it? They will recover everything as they see it. It’ll all be bagged and tagged and then identified back at the lab.’

  ‘No. It doesn’t change anything from a forensic point of view. They’ll need to know, obviously. But, for me standing in front of those families, for me telling them what happened to their little girls, it changes everything. He didn’t put them in there together, George, did he? He couldn’t have.’

  ‘No,’ George conceded.

  ‘So, one of them was second.’

  George hung his head. He had made a conscious decision not to tell her about Roberts’s comment. The thought of one of the girls waiting for her turn turned his stomach over. He didn’t feel the need to inflict that on Emma. But she was too sharp for her own good.

  ‘I guess so.’

  ‘He made one of them watch, didn’t he, George?’

  ‘He . . .’ George floundered.

  ‘He told you that, didn’t he? And he enjoyed telling you. That was why he insisted on speaking to you. You know that, right?’

  ‘Yeah, I know that. I don’t know why he’s got such a hard-on for me but, yeah, he wanted me to hear his news personally.’

  ‘That’s who he is, George. He took great delight in watching my team fall apart around him. The more we found out about him, the more we struggled to stay together and the more he fed off that. You know what you are to him, George? You’re an opportunity. An opportunity to watch someone brand-new break in front of him all over again. Because of what he did. It’s all about his power over his environment, over the people around him — over the people who try to control him.’

  George sighed. He took a few seconds, it was unusual for him not to have a reply ready on his lips. ‘I take it you read psychology?’

  ‘I did, as a matter of fact. A long time ago, though. And we were never warned about people like Henry Roberts. I’d never have believed that people like him could ever exist.’

  ‘I know what you mean. He’s a new one on me too. I thought I had pretty much seen it all.’

  ‘And for his crimes? We gave him his sea view.’ Emma stood up from the table. She paced to the window where he’d seen her a couple of days before. George reckoned that was her thinking spot.

  ‘I’m not sure I know what justice looks like for someone like Roberts.’

  ‘The fires of hell, George. That’s all there is.’

  ‘Let’s hope it won’t be long until he gets there.’

  ‘Indeed.’

  ‘What happened with your missing person case, Emma? Has she turned up yet?’

  Emma suddenly stiffened. ‘No, not yet, George.’

  ‘You’re worried about her.’

  ‘Missing people are always an element of concern, right?’

  ‘Most of them don’t worry me in the slightest, Emma. But when you get someone missing and you know in your gut that it isn’t right, that they aren’t a teenager sneaking out to see a boyfriend or a kid in foster care trekking back to their natural parents. Then you get worried.’

  ‘Well, she is neither of those things, it’s true.’

  ‘Where are you with it?’

  ‘There’s a whole team working on it,’ she was quick to reply.

  George held his hands up. ‘I don’t doubt it. And very capable they all are too, I’m sure.’

  ‘I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to snap. I need to protect my team. It’s a strange atmosphere, that’s all. There a
re different pressures to normal circumstances. Nothing about this has been normal. There’s a huge elephant in the room whenever we get together. The last time we investigated missing women like Annie Lowe they were in the clutches of Henry Roberts.’

  ‘But this time she can’t be.’

  ‘No, she can’t be.’

  ‘But his accomplice? That’s a possibility?’

  Emma walked over to the opposite window, where blinds fell from the ceiling down to the floor. She turned them in. ‘There has never been a shred of physical evidence of an accomplice, George. It was a throwaway comment from a witness who was terrified and confused.’

  ‘That scene yesterday, Emma. It wasn’t created by one man. No way. You must have thought that too?’

  ‘I don’t know, George. I don’t know what to think. You didn’t see Henry Roberts before the illness got hold of him. His reputation as “The Bull” was quite apt. He was a man-mountain. Strong as . . . well, as a bull.’

  ‘But that isn’t why you named him that, is it? And I assume it was you? Did someone slip up and it got out to the media? That was a nice save, saying it was due to his size.’

  ‘What does a nickname matter? The point stands — he’s as strong as a bull.’

  ‘Strong enough to carry an industrial-sized copper water tank the distance we walked? And then two struggling women?’

  ‘It’s doable, right? If he made three trips. It would be doable.’

  ‘It’s unlikely.’

  ‘We can’t deal with unlikely, George!’ Emma snapped again. She moved back to her thinking place.

  ‘Of course you can’t. You have to deal with the facts you have, especially when you’re under the sort of pressure you must have been under. I’ve been there. The press, the management — they just want a result. And when they get it they don’t want to hear that it might not be a complete result. After all the effort it took to get Roberts through that custody door, the last thing you needed was the thought that there might be someone else involved too.’

  Emma sighed. ‘I shouldn’t have mentioned it, George. I haven’t mentioned it to anyone else. I would appreciate it if you did the same. This girl will turn up, I’m sure. We’re just hypersensitive up here.’

  ‘And if she doesn’t?’

  ‘Then it’s still none of your concern.’ Emma’s tone had an edge again. This time there was no apology. George had outstayed his welcome.

  ‘Well, I should leave you to your investigation. I got news back from the prison. He didn’t write or receive any letters and no one visited him. He’s been living a pretty miserable and solitary life. Nothing more than he deserves, of course.’

  ‘I don’t think we can talk about what he deserves really, George, do you? He’s too wealthy to get what he deserves.’

  ‘You’re right. I’ll stay in touch. Let me know if you need any help.’

  ‘I will.’

  Her office door closing behind him the second he stepped out told him that he probably wouldn’t be the first person she called if she needed a chat.

  He walked back out into the fresh air and leant on his car. He didn’t feel right driving back to Langthorne, when there was a live investigation going on. But it wasn’t his investigation and the SIO had just made it very clear that he wasn’t required.

  He suddenly realised how hungry he was. He would need to eat before he headed back. He remembered passing a pub that looked like it did a good lunch. It was nearby, in a small village called Symonds Yat, near some grand estate. He started the car and headed towards it.

  Chapter 18

  The Roberts estate was not difficult to find, despite the only visible part being a big, farm-style gate. It was pulled shut and closer inspection showed it to be padlocked, too. The gate itself was the giveaway — or rather it was the six-foot long, white sheet draped over it with the word SCUM written in blood red. George could just about fit his car off the road to park in front of it. He could see the new-looking CCTV camera bolted to the side of a stout tree. The branches around it had been cleared so it would have a direct view of the gate. He wondered who was left to monitor it.

  He would get his answer just a minute or so later. He vaulted the gate, leaving the car nudged up against it and walked up the drive. The view opened up as he rounded the corner. The leafy trees gave way to flat lawns and a row of what looked like shop fronts in a converted stable block on the left side. From this distance they all looked shut up. One of them was boarded up, giving locals yet another canvas on which to spray their profanities. He heard a car engine behind him and turned towards it. A small, white van pulled up close to him. George had to step back to read the name and tag line: ABLE SECURITY: Able to keep your property secure.

  ‘Hello, can I help you maybe?’ The driver’s window was lowered to reveal an overweight man bunched up in the cabin. His face was red and clammy, and he looked harassed in general.

  George reached for his warrant card. ‘I’m a police officer. I’m based out in Hereford. We’re running an investigation into some tagging.’

  The man’s piggy eyes flicked from the warrant card back to George. ‘Tagging?’

  ‘Yeah. Graffiti, you know? The kids, they all have their own tags. Up in the city there’s hundreds of thousands of pounds of damage from one offender in particular. He uses a specific tag. We’ve got some intelligence that he might be from this area.’

  ‘They send CID in suits out for tagging these days, then?’

  George shrugged. ‘Budget cuts. And we’re talking high value.’

  ‘Well, there ain’t no one living here now.’

  ‘I know that. I know whose place this is. You can’t work at Hereford and not know, right? I saw the graffiti on the gate, there’s some more over there. I spoke to a couple of local officers and they reckon there might be some more up at the main house. If I can find the same tag out here, that just firms up my intel is all.’

  The man licked his lips. He looked out over the steering wheel. ‘There is more, yeah. You want me to take you up there?’

  ‘That would be great. Thanks.’ George walked to the passenger side. When he opened the door the male was leaning over to push a dozen sweet wrappers, an energy drink and an empty tube of Pringles from the seat. They all fell into the foot well. George thanked him again and sat down, being careful where he put his feet.

  ‘Graffiti, eh?’ the man said.

  George made a listening grunt.

  ‘I nearly joined your lot, you know.’

  ‘Oh right.’

  ‘Yeah. I got through all the tests an’ that. But I got a high blood pressure score. They wouldn’t let me in for that. They said it wouldn’t be good for me.’

  ‘Yeah, they can be strict like that.’

  ‘I don’t get it, but it didn’t matter. I got this job pretty much the next day. It’s practically the same thing, right?’

  George couldn’t be bothered to disagree. ‘I suppose it’s similar, yeah. Do you get much trouble on the estate?’

  ‘Nah. At the start like, when he was first put away, it was quite busy. I was up here most of the time. It made the old lady feel better to have me up here, I think. You know, for protection.’

  ‘The old lady?’ George played dumb.

  ‘Yeah, the Roberts lady. His mum. Of the one what done the murders.’

  ‘Ah, I see. Was it just her up here?’

  ‘Yeah. She used to moan about it. She said it used to be a busy place ’cause they had all the shops up and running. There was a team of people just doing the grounds and I think some staff in the house. In the end she had a cleaner and one gardener. Some old fella. She died out of the blue, really. I seen her a couple of days before. She looked fine to me.’

  The house approached. The drive twisted and trailed around but the scenery suddenly changed. Neat hedges and formal gardens gave way to a solid, redbrick building. George was taken with just how big it was. He hadn’t known what to expect, but this was larger — far larger.


  ‘Blimey! These people knew how to live, right?’ George cooed.

  ‘Yeah. Who knows what you would use all those bedrooms for?’

  The van pulled right up by the front entrance. This was a significant structure in its own right. It jutted out of the front. It was square and solid with a huge redwood door with a central brass knob and pillars either side. A huge white lintel had something engraved on it: A.D. 1707. The house was over four storeys. The first three had rows of perfectly identical square windows, the fourth layer was in the slant of the roof and its windows had pointed tops to complement the sloping roof behind. He walked back far enough to see six chimney stacks. The west side of the building looked like it had been extended. It was another solid-looking square with larger windows and newer, redder bricks.

  ‘Luckily they’ve extended over there. Otherwise they would have been falling over one another,’ George quipped. He was talking out loud to himself but the security guard was closer than he realised.

  ‘Yeah. That’s just storage now. The old man used it as a workshop type place at one point. He was into his metalwork according to his missus. Some of it is still in there. Sculptures an’ that. I never really got art.’

  ‘Metalwork?’

  ‘Yeah. Odd stuff it is. Weird. You can see it through the windows.’

  ‘Have you got a key?’

  ‘I do, yeah. Only for that bit though. I think they’ve forgotten. The lady, like, just before she died, she put me a kettle and a fridge out there for when I was here a lot. I still use it as a tea stop, but I’m not out here much. Lucky for you I was here today!’

  ‘Lucky for me.’ George smiled.

  ‘But I thought you was here for the graffiti? I can show you that. There’s some on the other side.’

  ‘That would be great. But I’m fascinated. You wouldn’t mind showing me around a bit, right? I mean, the bits you can see? I’ve never been anywhere near a place like this and on our wages we probably never will again!’

  ‘Sure!’ The man smiled broadly. He seemed delighted with the comparison. They walked to the west wing. It was well established, probably a hundred years old or more, but next to the rest of the house it still looked a little out of place, as if it felt awkward posing next to its older sibling. It had its own entrance around the side. The guard led the away. His body language suddenly changed.