by Paul Gitsham
Day 6
Wednesday
It was six days since the murder of Kyle Hicks and the team were still running flat out. For the time being at least, overtime pay wasn’t an issue; those in charge of the ever-dwindling budget understood that pouring resources into an investigation in its early stages reduced the chance of it dragging on for longer and costing more.
Team briefing was held at its customary time of 8 a.m., but most of the team had been in for a couple of hours already. Which begged the question – just how early was Moray Ruskin getting up to go to the gym and do his morning run?
First item on the agenda was the search report from Cameron Bird’s house.
‘Forensics found small quantities of both heroin and cocaine, plus a few spliffs. Probably enough for him to claim they were for personal use,’ read Hutchinson.
‘Or for paying his rent,’ suggested Martinez.
‘There were also some still-packaged, small electrical goods. No receipts, naturally, probably shoplifted. We’ll check with local electrical stores and see if we can trace where they came from.’
‘Well, that’s enough to charge him with something, at least,’ said Warren. ‘What about items directly related to Kyle Hicks’ murder?’
‘Nothing yet. Forensics are testing his clothes for traces of blood, but it’s not looking promising. It’s clear that most of his clothes haven’t been washed recently, but there’s nothing obvious on them.’
He scrolled down the report.
‘As far as we can tell, he doesn’t have access to a car, and we haven’t found any keys that suggest he might have access to a lock-up or a garage. There is a shed at the rear of the property, but it’s so fragile they had to lay down a temporary floor before it was safe enough to go in. It seems to be pretty empty, just some rusted barbecue equipment and ancient gardening tools. They’ve swabbed for drugs, but nothing so far. They’ll get the flagstones up in the back garden later on today, but again it doesn’t look hopeful.’
‘So, if he did steal Kyle Hicks’ stash, where did he store it?’ asked Martinez.
‘Are we even sure he was involved?’ asked Grimshaw. ‘He’s clearly a dodgy little scrote, but what have we actually got on him apart from a few eyewitness reports that he knew Brad Wiseman and fingerprints placing him at Wiseman’s house? He lied about knowing him, but then don’t they always? He isn’t going to want to admit to knowing the number one suspect in his mate’s murder.’
‘It’s a fair point,’ said Warren, ‘Mags, how is his alibi looking?’
‘We’ve picked him up on CCTV outside Cineworld, just as he claims,’ said Richardson. ‘He went in about twenty minutes before the film was due to start, entering at twenty-five to eight. The film lasts two hours and they were showing twenty-eight minutes of adverts and trailers, so that means the film ran until about twenty past ten.’
‘Hicks was killed at about nine-forty,’ said Grimshaw.
‘We’ve still got plenty more footage to trawl through,’ cautioned Richardson, ‘including the exodus after the film ended.’
‘Anything from his housemates?’ asked Grimshaw.
‘No. Most of them are so strung out they don’t know what they were doing this time yesterday, let alone what Bird was doing was doing five nights ago,’ said Hutchinson.
‘Let’s move onto the mysterious Madman,’ said Warren. ‘Who is he and what was he doing Friday night? If Cameron Bird is to be believed, he should have been out with Kyle Hicks that night dealing. It would really help if we had a better description though.’
‘Sorry, boss, I can’t help you there,’ said Pymm, ‘I’ve put everything we’ve got into HOLMES and I just can’t narrow it down. Tracksuit and hoodie are all these guys ever wear; slim build doesn’t help much either – drug addicts aren’t usually overfed. I’m not getting anyone matching that description with a headscarf – red or otherwise – either.’
‘That at least explains why the third set of fingerprints on the beer cans were unknown,’ said Ruskin. ‘He could be new to us.’
‘Which makes our job a lot harder,’ finished Grimshaw.
‘Thank you very much for agreeing to help us with our inquiries, Mr Seacole.’
Warren sat next to Shaun Grimshaw, who had just finished explaining that Seacole wasn’t under arrest, but that he had the right to legal representation if he wanted it.
Seacole shrugged. ‘No big deal, my sister was coming over to do Elsie’s hair and nails anyway.’
‘Why don’t you take me through what happened on Friday night again?’ started Grimshaw. Warren leaned back slightly, again letting the junior officer take the lead.
Seacole’s account was almost identical to what he’d told Warren that evening and in his follow-up interview.
‘What is it you actually do for a living, Mr Seacole? I’ve got down here that you are a youth worker,’ said Warren.
‘Volunteer youth worker,’ corrected Seacole. ‘Strictly speaking, I’m the full-time carer for my wife. I gave up my plumbing business a few years ago when Elsie got sick. Fortunately, I have family close by who are always happy to come and sit with her for a few hours, so I can get some fresh air with Sinbad or go down to the youth centre.’
‘How did you get involved with the youth centre, Mr Seacole?’ asked Grimshaw.
‘Lenny, please.’ A slight smile played on his lips. ‘Let’s not beat around the bush, we all know my history. I served six months back in 1984 for possession with intent to supply.’
‘So how did you get involved in youth work, Lenny?’ repeated Grimshaw.
Seacole settled back in his seat. ‘Getting sent to prison was the best thing that happened to me. Obviously at the time it was shit. I’m not ashamed to admit that I cried myself to sleep most nights, as did blokes far harder than me, which is something they never show you on TV. The conditions were bad enough in the Eighties. Since then the prison population had doubled. I wouldn’t survive it now. The violence, the suicides…’
For the first time since the interview started, he took a sip of water. ‘The morning I was sentenced, I received a letter in the post from the local college, telling me that my carpentry apprenticeship had been cancelled. When they led me down from the dock, my mum and sister came and saw me off. My then girlfriend walked out the back door of the court and I never clapped eyes on her again. I was only nineteen.’
He took another sip. ‘I felt like I had lost everything. The job I loved. The girl I thought I was going to marry. My chance of a future. And why? My own greed and stupidity. I didn’t even have much drugs on me; I was only doing a favour for a mate, I didn’t use them myself.’ He smiled bitterly. ‘I used to say I needed the money. But I didn’t, really. I just wanted extra cash to take my girlfriend out and impress her – yeah, that worked out well.’
‘OK, so what happened next?’ asked Grimshaw. It was a story that Warren and Grimshaw had heard plenty of times before and the sergeant struggled to hide his impatience.
‘I thought about killing myself. I could see no future and figured I’d rather do it on my own terms than get shanked by another prisoner. But then I got talking to the prison chaplain.’
‘So, you found God?’ said Grimshaw. He kept his face and voice neutral, but Seacole saw through his mask.
‘Funnily enough, no. I’d never been much of a believer, and nothing that had happened in the past few months was going to convince me that God was on my side. I toyed with the idea of faking it – pretending I’d found Jesus to try and convince the parole board I was a reformed character like everyone else does, but I was only in for a few months for possession. You only need to do that bullshit if you’re in on a life sentence and eligible for release. But what he did do was give me the tools to turn my life around. To make a new plan. You don’t need an invisible man upstairs to help you do that, and the chaplain recognised that.’
‘So, what was that plan?’ asked Warren.
‘Move away from where I grew up and make
a new start. I moved to north Norfolk, for no reason other than the fact that I wanted to be near the sea. Clean break. I sent my mum and sister postcards to let them know I was safe and well, but I didn’t keep in touch with any of my old friends. I figured that the way they were going, I’d got off lightly with six months. Two of my old mates are dead now and one is serving eighteen years for armed robbery. I really don’t know if I would have had the strength to keep out of trouble if I’d stayed here.’
‘But you’re back now,’ stated Grimshaw.
Seacole gave a small smile. ‘It’s funny how life conspires to take you full circle. I had to take two jobs just to keep a roof over my head. I was knackered and beginning to wonder if I shouldn’t just go back to Middlesbury and hook up with some old mates. Then a bloke I knew said his brother-in-law was setting up a building firm and needed a few strong lads to help out. I jumped at the chance. Twelve months later, Barry, our plumber, said he was looking for a mate. I figured “why not?” Twelve months after that, I did an evening college course and got fully qualified.
‘We worked together until 2002, when Barry retired. He offered me the chance to buy him out, the same week my mum had her first heart attack. I figured it had been fifteen years since I’d last set foot in Middlesbury and that the old lifestyle no longer appealed, so I took Barry up on his suggestion. A week later I had my name on the side of his van and I was living with my mum and sister again.
‘I met Elsie down the pub a week after I came back. She remembered me from school but said her old man would have killed her if she’d started dating someone like me. Can’t say I’d blame him. Anyhow, one thing led to another and we’ve been married more than ten years.’
He drained his water and poured himself some more.
‘Elsie was a full-time youth counsellor and she persuaded me to come in and speak to the kids. It’s weird, because I never really saw myself as a success story, but I suppose I was. A lot of the kids I speak to are just like I was back then. Just starting to hang around with the wrong crowd and get themselves into trouble; nothing too serious yet, but if they don’t put a halt to it now, they’ll get sucked in deeper and deeper until they get caught doing something really stupid and end up in prison like I did. I always say to them that I’m the exception. According to the Prison Reform Trust, nearly 70 per cent of kids who get banged up don’t sort their shit out and are reconvicted within twelve months.
‘Anyway, I now mentor kids and run workshops. Since Elsie got sick and stopped going herself, I actually spend more time there. I can’t work enough hours to make the cut in benefits worthwhile, so I’ve knocked the plumbing on the head for now and I’m her full-time carer.’
‘Did you ever mentor Kyle Hicks?’ asked Grimshaw.
Seacole shook his head. ‘No. From what I knew about him, he lived on the other side of town. Besides which, he was well beyond what I deal with.’
‘So, you never had any contact with him?’
Seacole paused. ‘Not officially, no.’
‘And unofficially?’
He sighed. ‘A few weeks ago, I decided to go tap on his window and see if I could have a word.’
‘And his response?’
‘Go fuck yourself, or I’ll kill your dog.’
‘I see. How did that make you feel, Lenny?’ asked Warren.
Seacole snorted. ‘How do you think? I thought about calling the police, but even if anyone arrived, he’d be long gone and it’s my word against his. The guy was too much of a coward to do anything then, and I reckon Sinbad would have had his leg off if he’d tried it on. But my wife is sick, and I can’t be with her twenty-four hours a day. I doubted he’d do anything, but still…’
‘What about his dealers?’
Seacole shook his head. ‘No. I don’t think they ever went to the centre. Maybe if they had… the best I can do is try and stop others going down that route. But it’s hard you know? Middlesbury’s a prosperous town, but that masks some real poverty. A lot of the kids I work with can’t see any real future, so they live entirely in the present. They just want cash now to buy what they want at this moment. They look at the likes of Kyle Hicks swanning around in his BMW and they think, I want some of that. Maybe some of them will see what happened to Hicks and think twice about what their own future is likely to be.’
‘Every cloud has a silver lining, eh?’ said Grimshaw.
Seacole scowled. ‘The bloke’s dead. I don’t think I’d have put it like that.’
Grimshaw said nothing. Warren cleared his throat. ‘What can you tell me about Bradley Wiseman?’
Seacole turned his attention to Warren. ‘Not huge amounts. He never came to the centre, so I didn’t really know him. I knew his mum more.’
‘Sally Wiseman?’
‘Yeah,’ Seacole chuckled. ‘She was a feisty one that, right to the very end.’ He paused. ‘She had a run-in with Kyle Hicks too.’
‘How do you mean?’ asked Warren
‘A few months back, just before she died, she went outside and had a go at Hicks. He was sitting there, revving his engine and playing some god-awful music, full of swearing and the N-word, and generally being an arsehole.’
‘Do you know what she said?’
‘No, I wasn’t there. I heard it from Maisy up the street, who saw it out the window. She reckons Sally marched up to him in his car and hammered on the window. She said something to him but eventually Brad pulled her away and they left. Hicks just revved his engine louder and turned up the volume.’
Warren looked over at Grimshaw.
According to Professor Jordan, Hicks had been killed by two people. If what Lenny Seacole had said was true, then Hicks was close to crossing over the line and threatening his family. If he had done the same to Bradley Wiseman, then could the two men have conspired together to remove the threat to their loved ones?
After a short toilet break, Warren and Grimshaw resumed their questioning of Lenny Seacole.
‘You say that you were walking Sinbad in the park between eight thirty-five and nine fifty-five?’ said Grimshaw.
‘About that.’ Seacole’s tone was patient.
‘And you do that every night?’
‘Yes. I watch EastEnders with Elsie and my sister, then take Sinbad out for his evening walk.’
‘And you always go down to the park?’
‘Yeah, a dog as big as Sinbad needs more than an evening stroll. I chuck a ball until he’s had a good run.’
Warren took over. ‘The thing is, Lenny, a couple of witnesses came forward who were in the park that night. A woman exercising her own dog, and a man training for a half marathon. Both were in the park during the time that you said you were there, and remember seeing each other, so they were reasonably observant. Neither of them recalls seeing you, or for that matter, Sinbad. The park isn’t very big, and there aren’t any trees to obscure people’s view. Where were you really that evening, Lenny?’
For the first time since they had started the interview, Seacole seemed lost for words.
‘They must have been mistaken. Maybe they were at the other side of the park, or they got the time wrong,’ he said eventually.
‘The runner was tracking his time with GPS. He was definitely running around the park at the time you said you were there. There’s no way he could have missed you.’
‘I think I would like to stop now and speak to a lawyer.’
‘I think that’s a very good idea, Mr Seacole,’ said Grimshaw. ‘I am arresting you on suspicion of the murder of Kyle Hicks…’
‘I always knew it would happen.’
Carol Hicks appeared far older than her forty-six years. Despite the warm, early summer weather, she wore a shapeless cardigan, her hands tightly clasped around a cup of coffee that she’d barely touched.
Her next-door neighbour and best friend, Janine, gave her thin shoulders a squeeze. In the background, Warren could hear the family liaison officer busying himself in the kitchen, although Warren knew that he wou
ld be listening intently to every word.
Kyle Hicks’ mother had been released from hospital the evening before. Given that she’d just suffered a minor heart attack, Warren imagined she was under strict orders to cut back on her smoking. He couldn’t blame her for not doing so just yet.
Warren kept quiet, letting her speak at her own pace. With Lenny Seacole awaiting his solicitor, Warren had decided to get out of the station and visit Hicks’ mother. As the senior investigating officer on the case, he felt it only right that he met the grieving family. Besides which, he wanted to see if he could glean any insights from her.
‘He was never out of trouble, that boy. If you told him not to do something, he immediately did it. If you told him not to hang around with someone, he’d go out all night with them.’
She sniffed loudly. ‘I want to see him.’ Hicks turned to Warren. ‘Can you do that? Can I go and see my baby?’
‘Don’t, Carol. Remember him how he was, not how he is,’ said Janine.
Warren remembered that Janine had been the one to positively identify Hicks’ remains.
Carol Hicks ignored her friend. ‘Please, DCI Jones. I can’t believe he’s gone. Unless I see him, unless I say goodbye…’ She dissolved again into floods of tears.
Warren glanced over at Janine, who gave a tiny shrug.
‘Of course, Miss Hicks. If that’s what you want, then I’ll arrange it for you.’
Unlike many murder victims, the body of Kyle Hicks was presentable enough for family to view. The mortuary staff would have skilfully disguised the scars left by the post-mortem, and a carefully chosen shirt and collar would hide his ruined throat.
After a suitable pause, Warren cleared his throat. ‘Why don’t you tell me a bit about Kyle?’
Unfortunately, his mother had little to add to what they already knew. A broken home, with a father that came and went from his life at infrequent intervals, but who little Kyle idolised, even when he was in prison.
‘His dad died when he was fifteen. Stabbed whilst on remand for drugs offences again,’ said Carol. ‘You’d think that would make you rethink your life, but Kyle just got worse. He wasn’t a stupid boy. He still passed his GCSEs in maths and English, even though he barely showed up in Year 11, but he didn’t care anymore. He just wanted to be out in the world earning money and doing up old cars.’