Back in his office, he unpacked a sandwich from his lunch box and chewed. He could confront the guy, but if he was making drugs, he might be unstable and that could prove dangerous. Best to tell Dan and let the police handle it. He swallowed and took another huge bite. Solomon was a pain in the neck sometimes, but Neil would never have suspected him of this. He was a poor excuse for a scientist – which was why they had ended up taking him on as a technician – but he was weak, not greedy. He just didn’t fit the junkie profile. As far as Neil could tell, Solomon was a lonely fat guy who looked after his disabled mother. Neil stopped chewing and sat up straight. Maybe someone was blackmailing him? That would make more sense if he could work out what on earth Solomon would know that could be worth blackmail. Swilling down the remains of his sandwich with a mug of tea, he got on the phone to Dan and was frustrated to have to leave a message.
* * *
Nathan Solomon shook. His hands shook, his body shuddered and he had to sit in the lab prep room with the door locked until he felt calm enough to go outside. This was getting too hard. He was so frightened. He hated doing it. Someone would notice. And then what would he do?
But you didn’t argue with Moss, not if you wanted to keep all your fingers and toes. He stared at the hand curled into a fist in his lap. Moss had broken his little finger when they were still at school because Nathan had refused to hand over his dinner money. The middle finger was next, when he hadn’t wanted to do Moss’s homework. He held the hand up. It was always his left hand, and so far the only finger Moss hadn’t broken was the index finger. The others had healed oddly, and looked bent and out of shape. He’d never dared tell anyone. But those little humiliations were nothing compared to the night times. He made a sound between a squeal and a sob, his anguish subdued by fear of being overheard. Moss was gay, but he would never, ever admit it to anyone. So he came to Nathan, again and again, because he knew Nathan would never tell. He rubbed tears from his eyes with his sleeve. Weak, I am. Weak, just like he always tells me.
But a kid had died last week. Died. Surely that changed everything? He was going to have to say something to Moss, and that terrified him. He was frightened of the pain, and frightened that one day Moss wouldn’t know when to stop.
Shaking his head to clear it, Nathan picked up the knapsack and hid it in his locker. He spent ten minutes finding what he needed to set up an experiment for Laura Denning’s graduate class that afternoon, then crept from the lab to have his lunch.
22
The accident and emergency ward was quiet at lunchtime on a Wednesday, so Dan could hear the cursing from the door. Sam Knowles stood outside a cubicle halfway down the corridor. Dan showed his badge to the nurse on duty and beckoned Sam towards him. ‘Sergeant Ellis in with Ridout?’
‘Yes, sir. He’s making a real racket in there.’ He scratched his ear. ‘Mind you, there’s a doctor and a nurse re-setting his fingers with only a local anaesthetic, so I guess he has a point.’
‘What’s he said so far?’
‘That he was walking home via the cemetery in Exwick about ten pm last night when he was jumped by two blokes, who beat him up, broke his fingers and ran away.’
‘Can he give us a description of these two blokes?’
‘Well, of course he could, sir. He’s just a bit too scared to tell us anything at the moment, although I think most of his jitters are through drug withdrawal. That’s why they wouldn’t give him a general before they sorted his hand; too risky.’
Sally stuck her head through the curtain. ‘They’ve finished.’
The doctor came out and pulled the curtain behind her. ‘His hand has been stamped on. Could have been an accident, I suppose.’ She pushed red hair back out of her eyes and looked up at Dan. ‘Are you arresting him?’
‘No, just asking for a bit of help with an on-going investigation.’
‘Right. The Ryan Carr case? I was on shift when he was brought in, poor kid. Well, I hope that nasty piece of work can help you.’ She set off down the corridor and spoke over her shoulder. ‘Apparently, he’s going to sue me and the hospital for not giving him a general anaesthetic. Pillock.’ She waved and entered another cubicle.
‘She’s nice,’ said Sam.
‘She is indeed, young Samuel,’ said Dan. ‘I wonder if she’s had lunch yet? Have you had lunch yet? It’s almost time…’ He grinned and entered the cubicle.
Sally stood wedged in the corner between a cupboard and the bed, arms folded and mouth pulled into a tight line. The nurse was clearing away bandages quietly, avoiding eye contact with anybody. Wayne Ridout lay back on the bed with his arm in a sling, fingers taped tightly to each other.
He looked up at Dan under black eyebrows drawn together in mutiny. ‘What is this?’ he snarled. ‘Another fucking copper with nothing better to do.’ He swung his legs off the bed. ‘I’m going. I’m not under arrest and you can’t keep me here.’
Sally swooped forward and grabbed Wayne’s canvas bag from the chair by the bed. ‘But we’ll help you get home Wayne,’ she said. ‘Can’t have you trying to catch the bus with your poor hand all busted up, can we?’
Dan signalled to the nurse and ushered her out through the curtain. He leaned against the end of the metal bed and folded his arms. ‘Wayne Ridout, as of now you are formally helping the police with their inquiries into the death of Ryan Carr. We can do it here, in the nice hospital, or we can take you to the station, where I will caution you, and nasty Sergeant White will have you thrown into a cell if you use bad language against him. Won’t he Sergeant Ellis?’
Sally opened the canvas bag and looked inside. It was empty, but there would be residue all over it, she was sure. ‘Yes, I think we may find enough evidence of drugs in this bag to hold you for a few days, pending results of analysis. What d’you say, Wayne?’
‘I’m telling you nothing.’ His legs spasmed.
‘You can’t let them get away with breaking your hand! They deserve to be punished, Wayne. Please, just tell us who did it.’ Sally perched on the edge of the hard chair next to the bed and smiled at him.
Dan watched the effort Wayne put into staying still. His eyes darted around the room, unable to rest on anything. ‘You’re in withdrawal, Wayne,’ he said. ‘You know, the sooner you help us, the sooner you can get back to slowly killing yourself.’ He waited a few beats. ‘Look at you, man, you’re shivering.’
‘Wayne,’ said Sally. ‘Can you at least describe the two men who assaulted you last night? Did you know them?’
Wayne looked from one to the other. His face crumpled. ‘I can’t. I can’t tell you. I have to get away.’ He made another half-hearted attempt to climb off the bed.
Dan stepped forward and swung Wayne’s legs back up onto the covers. ‘Two men, one young, one older…’
Wayne stared. ‘You already know who they are, don’t you?’ He bit down hard on his good hand. ‘I’m dead, I’m fucking dead. They’ll think I told you…’ Tears rolled down his sallow face. He lay back on the pillow and covered his face with his sleeve.
Dan took Sally outside. ‘He’s really scared. I’m not sure how much we’ll get out of him here.’
‘Yeah, he’s just a small-time dealer. But he would know who all the others are. I reckon Bateson and Carr knew that, and went for him because he’s weak.’ She stared off down the corridor. ‘Where’s Sam?’
‘I told him to get some lunch,’ said Dan, wondering if the lad had plucked up courage to ask the doctor out. Knowing Sam, he doubted it.
As if hearing his name, Sam ambled round the corner bearing three coffees and a paper bag tucked under his arm. He put the drinks on the plastic chair in the corridor and offered them a doughnut.
‘Sam,’ said Sally, ‘you are a very well-trained DC, and that is because you have been trained by moi. Thanks.’ She took a huge bite of doughnut and washed it down with too sweet coffee. ‘Wonderful,’ she said. ‘I think I’ve been having withdrawal symptoms, too.’
‘But yours is from s
ugar, I reckon,’ said Dan, picking up the coffee. ‘I think our little friend in there could do with this more than me, but thanks, Sam. Just give me a minute.’
He took the doughnut and coffee into the cubicle. ‘Have this,’ he said. ‘Might help with the jitters.’
Wayne sat up, swiped his face with his sleeve, took the paper cup and sipped. Dan watched colour appear as two pink spots on the young man’s cheeks. ‘Ta,’ he mumbled. He demolished the doughnut in two bites, hardly taking time to chew.
Dan sat on the chair beside the bed. ‘I know how scared you are, Wayne. But we really need your help. A kid has died from taking MCat, another one has been in a coma. I need to get this stuff off the street before it happens again. If you don’t want to name the men that assaulted you, can you give me the name they broke your hand to get?’
Wayne shook so badly he had to place the paper cup of coffee on the side table. He stared, wide-eyed, at Dan.
‘We’ll protect you, Wayne. Find you a safe house; get you out of the city. You have to tell us before any more kids die.’
‘You’ll protect me? You promise?’
‘Yes. Is there anywhere you can go, out of Exeter, until the investigation is over?’
Wayne pursed up his lips, eyes flicking around the cubicle. ‘I could go and stay with my mum and dad, I suppose. They’re in Wales.’
‘Perfect.’ Dan rose and called Sally back in. ‘We’re offering Wayne help to get him to Wales to stay with his parents while we finish the investigation. Would you see to that, please?’
‘Of course,’ she said. ‘We’ll get you a train or bus ticket, and get in touch with your parents to make sure it’s safe. I’ll have to contact Welsh police, to let them know what we’re doing. You understand, that, Wayne?’
Wayne lost his brief pinkness of cheek. ‘Yeah. Dad’s the vicar in a little village. Hah, he’s gonna love this, me crawling home, tail between my legs.’ He shrugged. ‘Me mum will be alright, though. Yeah,’ he nodded. ‘It’s the best thing. No-one here knows where I come from.’ His eyes filled up again as he lifted his broken hand up. ‘How did it come to this?’ He glanced at Sally. ‘I’ve made a right mess of my life, haven’t I?’
‘Yes, Wayne, you really have,’ she replied. ‘But maybe this was the kick up the backside you needed to help you start again. Kick the drugs, get a job, choose life…’
‘Anyway, we’ll sort it out for you,’ said Dan. ‘Now it’s your turn. Who were the men who broke your hand?’
‘I didn’t recognise them.’ Wayne cradled the hand close to his chest. ‘The big bloke called the other one Daz.’
‘Right, that’s great. Now what about the name you had to give them, who was that?’
‘You know I’m dead if he finds out, don’t you?’ said Wayne, fear setting off the shakes once again.
‘I know you’ve got little future anyway, Wayne. This way you get a chance to live. I’d take it if I were you.’
‘Yeah, I know that’s what you say, but I’ll be on my own up there.’
Sally put her face in her hands. ‘Please, Wayne, for pity’s sake put us out of our misery before I start breaking things. Who was it?’
‘Alright, keep your wig on.’ He bit his lip, then spilled out the name; ‘It was Moss Garrett. Lives over Topsham way. That’s his turf, I stay clear.’
‘Thank you,’ said Dan staring at Sally. ‘Is he a big player?’
Wayne snorted. ‘Big? He’s been legal high central since the pigs, sorry, police, closed down the head shops. Been at it for a year or so.’ He clammed up, both hands over his mouth to prevent himself from saying anything else.
‘Sergeant, you and DC Knowles take Wayne back to his flat and gather what he needs. We’ll get a formal statement at the station and he can be on his way as soon as you’ve sorted out the paperwork.’
He helped Wayne down off the bed, eager to get out of the hospital. ‘I’ll see you later, Wayne. You’ve done the right thing, you know.’
Dan opened the door and raised an eyebrow at Sam Knowles who was chatting to a nurse. ‘Keeping busy, DC Knowles?’ he asked, and strode off towards the main entrance.
* * *
Buoyed up by having a name at last, Dan bounced into the station and headed straight upstairs to see DCS Oliver. He stopped in front of Stella’s desk. ‘Is she in, Stella?’
Stella looked up at him over the rims of her spectacles. ‘You’re looking a bit happier, Daniel. Good news is it?’ she asked, as she flicked up the intercom switch and asked Oliver if she had time to see him.
‘I am, thanks, Stella. Finally feel like we’re getting somewhere on both cases.’ He crossed his fingers as Oliver’s disembodied voice told him to go in.
Julie Oliver was standing by her window, looking out onto the Victorian facade of the university building on the other side of the road. She turned round and indicated that he should sit.
Dan didn’t like the expression on her face, she was worried again. ‘Something wrong, ma’am?’
She stared at him for a second, shook her head, then and sat down opposite him. ‘What can I do for you, Dan?’
‘I have a name for the dealer who sold the drugs to the boys, and I know where the Bog Bodies came from.’ He couldn’t hold back the grin that split his face.
‘You have? That’s fantastic news. Well done. I thought we were totally stuck on Bog Bodies, and having the dealer’s name is great so soon into the investigation. Very good work.’ She gave her brilliant smile and Dan smiled back at her. That seemed to have cheered her up a bit.
‘So, I need permission to offer transport and protective custody to a material witness, another drug dealer. Basically, we need to get him out of town while we arrest the other guy, who sounds like a nasty piece of work. The witness, Wayne Ridout, can go back to his parents in Wales for now. I’m hoping that he may make a change in lifestyle while he’s there.’
Oliver still looked troubled to Dan. ‘That’s fine, do what you have to do to keep him safe,’ she said. ‘We may need him later for the court case. Who’s the dealer?’
‘A Moss Garrett, apparently. Recognise the name?’
‘Bloody hell.’ She nodded slowly. ‘The Garretts raise their ugly heads once more.’ She put her face in her hands and rubbed her eyes. ‘Yes, I do recognise the name. If I’m right, he’ll be the son of Barry Garrett, a nasty character who spent large portions of his adult life in prison before going bankrupt and disappearing about ten years ago before his imminent arrest for money laundering. We have no idea where he is now.’
‘Really? Can’t say that connection is a total surprise.’ He made a note of the name. ‘I’ve only just got back from the hospital, ma’am, looking after Ridout, so I’ll work up a profile this afternoon. If I can find out where Garrett sells from, we’ll stake him out on Friday night, and arrest him when we have enough evidence.’
She pursed her lips. ‘No going off grid, no heroics.’ She didn’t add, not after last time, for which he was grateful. ‘Okay, great so far. And what about the Bog Bodies?’ she said, rattling the report at him.
‘I know, who’d have guessed they were Kiwis?’
‘No wonder nobody reported them missing.’ Oliver shook her head. ‘I wonder what on earth they got mixed up in that made someone murder them?’
‘Leave it with me, ma’am; I’ve got Bill and Ben on it. And I’ll update you as soon as we have a plan for Friday night.’ He jumped up from his seat. ‘I’d better get back; lots to do.’
In the quiet of his office, Dan typed up the latest developments and sent his report to Oliver. He hadn’t realised how hopeless he’d been feeling until he’d got a lead. He took a minute to think about Oliver, about her mood recently. What if it was about the new DCI interviews? What if there wasn’t anyone who she saw as right for the job? Was she under pressure from above to appoint and stop doing the DCI job? It must make her workload ridiculous, although he knew she loved it.
Sally knocked and entered. ‘Wayne is
giving his formal statement to the duty sergeant now, but he absolutely refuses to give evidence against Carr and Bateson. Useless, really. Do we have the go-ahead to help him out?’
‘Yeah, we do. At least we’ll know where he is.’
‘I’ll find out about their local drugs helpline, too. You never know, this might be the saving of him.’
‘Hmm, ever the optimist, Sal. Can you bring back Lizzie Singh from the Carrs, and get a uniform to take Wayne to the station and make sure he gets on board the right train? Oh, briefing at eight tomorrow?’
Sally made a quick note.
‘Have you got a minute?’ he asked.
Sally nodded and sat down. ‘What’s up?’
‘Have you noticed that Oliver is a bit, well–’
‘Snappy, picky and a pain? I may have noticed, yeah.’
‘Right. Well, I’m wondering if she’s struggling to get enough good applicants for the DCI job, and that’s what’s worrying her.’
‘I know it sounds daft, Dan, but it’s hard to recruit good people down here. You’d never have come back from the Met if things hadn’t gone badly for you up there, would you?’
‘True. For me it was my last chance before being busted back down to uniform. I love it now, though. No lack of excitement these last three months.’
‘So the applications might be a bit skewed towards, perhaps, older people who are looking for somewhere to retire, last job move sort of thing, or mavericks who haven’t found favour in the city and need to get out.’
‘Yeah, exactly. Or middle-of-the-roadsters with not much to offer and an application out to every force in the country that needs a DCI.’
‘You could apply,’ she said.
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