Silent Crimes

by MICHAEL HAMBLING

  ‘Um, what do you mean exactly?’ he asked, embarrassed to be caught staring at her feet.

  ‘He gave the impression of being a dozy tourist, but he was definitely after something. He asked some questions about facilities for tramps and travellers in the area, but the way he said it made me a bit suspicious, so I watched him after he left. He spoke to several other people outside and kept looking around as if he was expecting to see someone. He was kind of furtive. Does that make sense?’

  ‘Of course. And thanks for bringing it to our attention.’ He noted her name and said that they might have to contact her again. ‘And I really like your toenail colours,’ he added. ‘I might mention it to my fiancée. They look great.’

  She frowned. ‘Why? Is she gay too?’

  He made a hurried retreat from the shop and ran into Sophie leaving a café further down the road. He repeated the shopkeeper’s observations, adding the story of the toenails.

  She roared with laughter. ‘Barry, you really are priceless sometimes. The rainbow flag? No? You really need to brush up on your LGBT culture, you know. Let’s find Rae and get some lunch. I’ll take you to my favourite local café. I have to be sure to avoid the ones used by Jade and her friends, though I expect they’ll all be nursing hangovers this morning. And, luckily, it’s also one that Mrs Denhay and her gang tend to avoid. The owners come from Turkey.’

  ‘Closet racists, are they?’ Barry asked.

  ‘Not all of them, just a few of the worst and most malicious. Jade had a go at them a few months ago because of it. I expect there was blood all over the floor — metaphorically speaking, of course. The old biddies have kept quiet since then, but they still don’t visit that café. Good thing really. It means I can get a peaceful snack or coffee when I need one, without them pestering me about local crime and what am I doing about it.’

  *

  Rae was conducting interviews with the rangers at the Arne nature reserve, but so far nothing of note had come up. She was standing in the small outdoor centre, looking at the large-scale map on the wall and listening to the senior ranger point out the boundaries of the reserve.

  ‘You can see the three main zones,’ Petra Smith said. ‘Two south of the road, and this single one to the north-west. Your crime scene is way over here to the north-east, a good mile beyond our boundary. I know you have to interview all of our staff members, but we’ve discussed it among ourselves and no one remembers meeting a tramp. We were vaguely aware of someone sleeping rough in the woods, but it wasn’t happening on our land, so we didn’t go poking our noses in. And I don’t think he was there during the daytime. Wasn’t he usually around Wareham town centre, begging?’

  ‘Yes, we think so,’ Rae said. ‘But I have to check with everyone who lives or works in the area, to help build up a picture. What about on the road? Did you ever pass anyone of his description when you were travelling to and from work?’

  Petra shook her head. ‘No. But he’d have been using the footpaths, wouldn’t he? I tell you what. Lynette, one of our volunteers, comes in on her bike. She sometimes uses the paths. Maybe she might be able to help a bit more than the rest of us. She’s not in today but I can give you her phone number. Oh, and don’t forget the café staff, though I think they all drive in and out. The café is open at the moment, so you can see them right now if you want.’

  None of the other centre staff could help, so Rae crossed the narrow lane to the café. Three staff were in the building, either preparing food or serving, and none had known about Paul Prentice’s life in the woods until news of his death had filtered into the local community. None could remember seeing a man of his description on the road. Rae ordered a sandwich for her lunch, then sat down and phoned the number the senior ranger had supplied for the volunteer, Lynette. She had more to offer than the full-time staff, so Rae arranged to see her after lunch, at her home in Stoborough, a small hamlet a mile south of Wareham on the other side of the river.

  Lynette Brown was a trained telecommunications engineer in her early twenties with a passion for wildlife photography. She invited Rae into the tiny house she shared with her partner, where she told her that living so close to one of the country’s top bird and nature reserves was like a dream come true. Her freckled face lit up as she spoke about the wildlife, while Rae looked at the shelves in the small downstairs room filled with books on animal life. Photoprints of birds covered the walls.

  Lynette introduced her partner. ‘This is Eddie. He’s pretty keen too.’

  Rae wasn’t surprised. The young dark-haired man was dressed like Lynette in combat trousers and outdoor boots.

  ‘We’ve been discussing it since you phoned. We both think we’ve seen the man you’re asking about, but only a couple of times. Eddie is more observant than me when it comes to people, so he can tell you more. If you wanted to know about a bird, then it’d probably be me who’d have noticed more.’

  Eddie rolled his eyes at his girlfriend, then smiled at Rae. ‘She’s always on the lookout for birds or lizards, all that kind of thing. If she was more interested in people, she’d remember them. I like wildlife too, but I find people even more fascinating. Don’t you?’

  Rae laughed. ‘I have to. It’s my job. I have to interview all kinds of people, from innocent onlookers like yourselves, who might have witnessed something, to the worst kinds of human lowlife. And I have to be observant. So, what can you remember, Eddie?’

  ‘I think I’ve seen him about four times. Twice on the riverside path, heading in or out of Wareham, and maybe twice in the town centre, sitting in a doorway. I think it was probably his dog that got my attention. Beggars often have aggressive, snarling dogs, or that’s what I imagine, but his little terrier was very inquisitive and friendly. It used to trot across to me and wag its tail like mad. It looked well cared-for.’

  ‘Did you ever speak to the man?’ Rae asked.

  ‘Only to say what a nice dog he had. He just nodded at me and smiled. But he seemed wary, as if he didn’t trust people in general.’

  ‘What did he look like? The man I mean, not the dog.’

  ‘Sort of middle-aged? Maybe in his late forties or fifties.’ Eddie frowned. ‘It’s so hard to be sure with a tramp, isn’t it? They have such hard lives, and they always look weather-beaten and a bit grubby. Maybe he’d have looked younger after a good wash, a shave and a change of clothes.’

  ‘Is there anything else you remember about him?’ Rae asked.

  ‘Not really. But there was someone else asking about him last week. I was in town at the time, just coming out of the supermarket, and a guy stopped me and asked if I’d seen a tramp around.’

  Rae looked up from her notes. ‘Could you describe him for me?’

  Eddie shrugged. ‘Pretty nondescript really. Fairly tall and thin, I guess. He was wearing jeans and trainers, and a thick lumberjack-type shirt. I can remember thinking that I could do with a shirt in that style.’

  ‘So did the conversation last long?’

  ‘No. As soon as I said I hadn’t seen anyone of that description, he was gone, just like that.’

  Rae was puzzled. ‘But you had seen the tramp — hadn’t you?’

  ‘Yeah, but I wasn’t going to tell him that. Even though I hadn’t talked to the tramp much, I felt he was a decent bloke. This one made me wary. I don’t quite know why, maybe it was something about his eyes.’

  ‘Can you remember when this was?’ Rae asked.

  ‘On the Saturday? Must have been. It would have been about eleven in the morning. I sometimes do the food shopping then, after Lynette’s left for the reserve.’

  ‘Did you see the tramp in the town centre that same day? Please try hard to remember.’

  Eddie frowned. ‘I didn’t see him in the shopping area, but it’s possible he passed me down by the bridge when I was on my way home. I was on my bike at the time. Can’t be sure, though.’

  Chapter 4: Going Nowhere

  Monday Morning

  ‘We’re in a very
different situation here compared to most of our previous cases,’ Sophie said. The three detectives were gathered around a table in the incident room at Wareham police station, attempting to formulate a plan for the murder investigation. ‘Usually by this time we’ve garnered a fair bit of background about the victim, but not in this case. For reasons known only to himself, Paul Prentice deliberately dropped out of the public eye years ago. He doesn’t seem to have sought help from the state. There are no local medical records for him. He wasn’t registered for state benefits of any kind. He never shared information that would identify him with any organisation, even the hostels he might have used in Poole during the winter months. There’s always the possibility that he went further afield than that, so we have to keep checking, but my gut feeling is that he was deliberately secretive about his background. But why? Ideas, anyone?’

  Barry tugged at the ends of his ginger hair, a sure sign of unease with him. ‘Could he have been on the run from someone or something? Nothing has shown up on the database yet, so Paul Prentice might not have been his real name. What I’m saying is, he might have been involved in something criminal in the past, and he’s been down here in hiding. If so, he’d take on a false identity, wouldn’t he? After all, the way he was living, who would ever know? Or he was on the run for some other reason. Doesn’t that tie in with what we found over the weekend? That someone was in Wareham last week asking around after a tramp? The two events must be connected, surely? He’s lived here quietly for a couple of years, suddenly someone appears asking around, and then he’s murdered. So what was he running from? A financial scandal? Could he have cheated someone? Or maybe it was something more personal than that. Maybe he hurt someone who’s come looking for revenge?’

  ‘Jade doesn’t seem to think he was the kind of person who would have been involved in serious criminal activity,’ Rae said. ‘According to her, he had a clear sense of right and wrong.’

  Sophie frowned. ‘Yes, but she knew the current Paul Prentice, not the one from years ago. He’s had years of a solitary existence. People choose that for a reason, and it’s often to escape something from their past that’s troubling them. Day after day alone with their thoughts can give someone a different slant on things. What I’m saying is, people can change. I’ve seen it happen. Given time and the right environment, problematic, antisocial people can alter their perceptions of life. There are enough reformed criminals touring the youth clubs and welfare groups in this country to show that. As far as his past is concerned, we can’t rule anything out.’

  ‘This kind of speculation isn’t going to get us anywhere,’ Barry said. ‘Maybe we ought to change tack and go back to the facts. I’m wondering why the dog’s collar and identity tag were removed. We got the area checked again and nothing’s been found. So whoever took the collar may have kept it. Could that mean that it contains some important information? A contact phone number or an address?’

  ‘It’s always possible,’ Sophie replied. ‘It confirms that there was more to this than an act of random violence, but it’s of limited use beyond that. We don’t have the thing so we can’t make use of it. And if Prentice’s murderer targeted him specifically, either in revenge or to silence him, then there won’t be other victims, so we can’t go looking for patterns.’

  Rae looked pensive. ‘But what if there are others? I don’t mean other tramps, because I’ve searched the records and no similar cases have shown up. But shouldn’t we consider the possibility that there are other victims? I don’t know how we’d tell, though. Not without more evidence. And how do we get that?’

  ‘We have to keep looking,’ Sophie replied. ‘Paul Prentice is the only name we have to work with, so we keep digging into anyone with that name, anywhere. I hate this situation as much as you do. It’s like stumbling about blindfolded at midnight in a coal-cellar. But we have to do what we can until we’re convinced there’s nothing to find. We just have to hope that something turns up. If it doesn’t, this’ll become an unsolved case, and I bloody hate those. We all do.’

  ‘Have you had many, ma’am?’ Rae asked.

  ‘Not here in Dorset, no. But I’ve been involved in a few, both in London and in the West Midlands.’ Sophie looked down at the tabletop.

  There was a sudden charged silence. Rae glanced across at Barry, who was looking at her and shaking his head slightly. She realised that she’d unintentionally stumbled into forbidden territory.

  ‘Maybe we should just get back to work?’ Barry suggested. ‘We might be in a better position in a couple of days if something turns up.’

  Sophie came out of her reverie. ‘Of course. No sense in prolonging this meeting if there’s nothing to say. It’s nearly coffee time, anyway.’

  *

  Rae caught up with Barry as they made their way back to their desks. ‘What happened just then?’ she asked. ‘I obviously triggered something. What was it, boss?’

  ‘Her father’s murder was an unsolved case for forty years,’ Barry said. ‘It was a strange one because no one even knew he was dead until his body turned up. I’ve avoided giving you the full details and just warned you not to mention certain names, but maybe you need to know the full story. Now might not be the best time, though. I’m still wondering about that dog’s collar. If it was taken off just to get at the message capsule, then wouldn’t whoever took it discard the collar itself?’

  Rae shrugged. ‘It’ll have been dumped in a bin somewhere, surely? Nothing’s been picked up at the scene, so how likely is it that we’ll ever find it? But if we find the container, that would be a real bonus for us. It’s a small, stainless steel one according to Jade. Maybe the killer took it away with them.’

  ‘Yes, but what you say about the collar is also true for the container. Once they unscrewed it and took the contents out, they’ll have gotten rid of it. It’ll be the bit of paper we want, and whatever was written on it. That’s probably also been destroyed by now. Let’s contact the local A & E units to see if they’ve treated anyone for injuries that might have been caused by a dog struggling to escape. Hands, arms and faces.’

  After a fruitless hour on the telephone, the two detectives sat in silence. No hospital casualty department in the county had any record of such injuries to a recent patient, nor had there been any in the nearby major units at Southampton and Salisbury.

  The day finished with the team even more despondent than before. They’d found nothing of any consequence. All they could do was hope that something would crop up soon, though they weren’t holding their breath.

  Chapter 5: Hurry!

  Tuesday Morning

  Jade had another restless night, disturbed by a sequence of particularly vivid dreams. That evening she’d been out clubbing in Poole with friends but had felt slightly distant from the swirl of chatter, music and flashing lights that formed the backdrop to their favourite dance venue. The uneasy feeling had remained with her on the journey back to Wareham in the early hours, and she’d tossed and turned for a long time before eventually drifting into a light slumber. Then the dreams started, with colours, sounds and words coalescing and then fragmenting again, repeatedly. Was she being followed somewhere? Why did she feel the need to hurry? The disco lights faded to be replaced by darkness. An image of the small clearing in the woods appeared, dimly lit by the flickering of a fire, but no one could be seen. The sound of a dog whining and barking carried through the dark foliage of the trees. She still felt a driving need to hurry.

  The scene shifted and it was now early afternoon, the sun bright in the sky. She was with Paul and they were walking along a narrow track away from his small camp and towards the riverbank. They were passing one of the oldest trees in the wood, a huge gnarled oak that was set back a few yards from the faint track. The pressure to hurry towards something unknown was still growing.

  Jade woke and sat up with a start, her eyes wide open. She’d forgotten. The memory of that walk and Paul’s brief mention of the tree had somehow gone from her memory. An
d no wonder. She’d been totally preoccupied with revision for her forthcoming exams and had only half listened to his words.

  She felt too alert to return to sleep now, so she slid out of bed, put some clothes on and tiptoed downstairs to the kitchen. It was four thirty, the only sound the quiet ticking of a clock. She made some tea and toast, trying to get her thoughts in order. What had Paul said? Something about the old tree and the fissures in its trunk making an ideal hiding place. That was it! A great hiding place for bits and pieces. What should she do? Surely there wasn’t much chance of actually finding anything in that tree trunk? Wouldn’t it already have been examined during the forensic team’s search of the area? She slurped down the last few mouthfuls of tea, gathered a few things together and headed out into the early morning light. She still felt a driving need to hurry.

  Half an hour later, Jade was hauling her bicycle over the fence and hiding it in a thicket, as she had done the previous week. She looked around her. The sun was starting to climb, and the air was alive with the sound of birdsong. Maybe now was the time to stop hurrying. She needed to be cautious. She took a circuitous route towards the clearing, moving as quietly as she could. And was glad she did. As she approached, she could hear faint sounds of someone moving about ahead. Who or what would be here this early in the day? Surely not a police officer? According to her mother, the search had been completed days before and night-time security was no longer required. Jade edged closer to the old hut and watched from behind a clump of bushes. A man was poking around the ramshackle structure with a stick, probing into the gaps between the half-rotten planking, clearly looking for something. And he wasn’t a police or forensic officer. That much was obvious from his manner. He kept casting nervous glances around him. What should she do? If she took the time to return home and report the man’s presence, he might have found the tree and recovered anything Paul had hidden there long before the police arrived.