Down Down Down

by L M Krier

  ‘Not the same owner as the old warehouse. He’s equally upset. He’d also been trying to sell it and he’d finally had some interest in it when it went up in flames. And it’s the same for him with his insurers. They’re still investigating but they’re already saying it won’t be a full pay-out because the premises weren’t fully secure. Sir,’ he added, looking at Ted, anxious to please, as ever.

  ‘Thanks, Steve. So, any ideas of motives for these arsons, for a start?’

  ‘Do arsonists always need a motive, boss?’ Martha asked him. ‘Don’t some of them do it just because they can? And because they get off on it? Which won’t make our task any easier.’

  ‘I’ve already told you what I think, boss. Someone’s targeting you personally, because they’ve seen stuff about you in the media, they know you’re in Stockport, and that you’ve worked successfully on old cases, with good results. You need to go and talk to Warren in the nick, soon as.’

  Ted’s tone was dry when he replied. ‘Thank you, DC Vine, for your suggestion.’

  ‘She does have a point, though, boss,’ Jo said. ‘Someone who met Warren inside, believes he’s innocent and is trying to shake things up to get the case reopened, perhaps.’

  ‘I’m on it. I’m hoping to see Warren tomorrow, and to talk to someone about my idea of a way to find out more about him and what he gets up to inside.

  ‘So, moving on to people who might have a motive to want Mr Byrne dead, and not in a nice way.’

  Eric Morgan had been sitting quietly up to now. ‘If it suits, Jo, I thought Amelie and I might make a start on trying to track down this young girl, Lucy, from the photo. If that picture’s anything to go by, and if he was a bit free with his hands, she might have grown up to be someone who held a serious grudge against him. Assuming she’s still living round here somewhere, of course.’

  Ted followed Jo into his office once the briefing was over and the team members were starting on their tasks for the day.

  ‘I’m meeting with Jim and Debs on Friday afternoon for a progress report, Jo. So I’m hoping for some scrap of something, anything, which I can throw at them, on both these cases.’

  ‘It’s annoying about that nail polish. It might not have helped, but it was still a week’s delay we could well have done without. Are you going to follow it up with Amelie?’

  ‘Oh, I have a feeling I can happily leave that in Eric’s capable hands. If I hear nothing via that channel then I will, yes. And I just wanted to remind you that I’m taking the weekend off. As in off, away, not to be contacted, not even in dire need. Or you might be retrieving bits of my body from wherever Trev decides to dump them if I let him down again.’

  Jo laughed. ‘Going somewhere nice?’

  ‘It’s more Trev’s thing than mine, but we’re going to watch his sister do horsey stuff. Then he’s taking her off to Paris next week for half term. I say no contact but, of course, if there’s anything urgent you can call me ...’

  ‘We’ll manage. Go off and have some fun. Hopefully our arsonist friend won’t decide to burn the nick down while you’re away.’

  Instead of starting the area car once Amelie had sat herself in the passenger seat and fastened her seatbelt, Sergeant Eric Morgan hitched himself round so that he was facing her, his right arm leaning against the steering wheel.

  ‘Right, young Amelie. There’s a few ground rules we need to go over, before you go anywhere with me today.’

  She opened her mouth to speak but he cut across her.

  ‘I’m talking, you’re listening. At least unless you really want me to go to the gaffer and tell him that I don’t want to carry on working with you, and why.

  ‘The problem is, you broke Rule Number One. And that is, whatever happens, you don’t drop your team mates in the shit. That’s what you did yesterday, isn’t it? Let Virgil carry the can for your mistake. And because he’s a nice bloke and probably felt sorry for you, being new to the job, he took it on the chin. But it’s not on. Especially when you have a good boss like Ted Darling. If you made a mistake and owned up to it, he’d probably have sat down with you and gone over what you did wrong to make sure it doesn’t happen again.

  ‘Now you’re going to have to go to him and tell him you not only made a balls-up but you also lied to let Virgil carry the can. And he’s not going to like that. Not one bit. He expects his officers to act like adults and tell the truth.’

  ‘But I can’t do that!’ She sounded horrified at the suggestion. ‘He’ll throw me off the team.’

  ‘He might well do that and I wouldn’t blame him if he did. But I’ve known him a long time and you won’t find anyone more fair. So if I was you, I’d try very hard today to make some sort of a breakthrough on this case, no matter how small. Then, when we go back, I’d go and talk to him, tell him the truth and hope he gives you another chance.’

  He turned back in his seat and started the engine.

  ‘How did you know?’

  He gave her a smile and said, not unkindly, ‘Because I’ve been a copper for years, love, and I’ve trained more probationers than you’ve had hot dinners. And I’m a dad and a granddad. So I know when someone’s telling porky pies. Remember what I said. The DCI is a good boss. He’s not going to be thrilled, but he will treat you fairly. And if you’re worried about talking to him, I’ll come with you, if you like. As long as you promise me it was a one-off and you’re not going to make the same mistake again. Ever.’

  It was lunchtime in the factory. Jezza was sitting down with the production line workers, almost all women, as they ate. Mike was talking to the management. They’d agreed to Jezza talking to their workers as long as it didn’t disrupt the production run. One of them made Jezza a cup of strong tea. Others offered her a sandwich out of their lunch boxes, which she declined. Not all of them appeared to speak much English, so she was concentrating on those who did.

  ‘So, what can you tell me about Mr Byrne? Bernie. Did you all know him?’

  One of the older women spoke. ‘Oh, we all knew Bernie. He were on quality control so he had to keep an eye on us lot.’

  ‘He liked to have a nibble now and again to make sure standards was kept up,’ another said, which brought a round of raucous cackling.

  ‘Are you saying he was a bit free with his hands?’ Jezza asked them, trying to make notes. This was clearly going to be hard work.

  ‘He was a bloke, love. Aren’t they all?’

  ‘Unless they bat for the other team, like young Winston in packing. More’s the shame, cos I definitely would. Have you seen the bum on him?’

  More laughter, from all of them. Jezza could see she was going to have her work cut out. She needed to try to get one of them to act as spokesperson. She focused her attention on the woman who’d spoken first. ‘Which team was Bernie on, then? Could you tell? Did he like the ladies? Or did he prefer men?’

  ‘Take no notice of this bunch of mucky Marys, love. They don’t get much excitement. Bernie was all right. Proper gentleman. This lot loved to tease him but he behaved himself. He had to come and talk to us and check up on standards. It was his job. But I never saw or heard him step out of line, in all the time I knew him, which was six or seven years, for sure. Ever since I started here.

  ‘I heard he’d gone missing. We all did. So why are you asking all these questions now? Has he turned up? Is he dead?’ She was nothing if not blunt.

  ‘We’re just looking a bit more into his background in connection with his disappearance,’ Jezza told her, dodging the question.

  ‘He is dead, then. Poor sod. God rest his soul.’ The woman was no fool. She heard the true meaning behind Jezza’s words.

  ‘Can you tell me anything at all about him outside work?’ Jezza was concentrating on the one woman now, leaving the others to chat and eat their food. ‘Did he talk about himself at all?’

  She shook her head. ‘Private man, really. All I knew was that he was on his own. And a regular churchgoer, like me. Catholic. I never heard anything
bad about him. He seemed a bit sad, like. As if he’d lost someone he cared about. Although he never said owt about it. Not to me, anyway.’

  Having said his piece, Eric Morgan was back to exactly how he’d been the day before. While he drove, he told Amelie what phone calls to make and who to speak to in order to get the information they needed for the next part of the enquiries.

  First she got hold of the full details on the death of Lucy’s mother. Carly Robson had indeed died of a drugs overdose, leaving her daughter Lucy, then nearly thirteen, to be taken into local authority care, as no relatives had been traced.

  Thanks to more information from Stefan at Gorton, Eric and Amelie were now on their way to the Manchester Children’s Services department, on the southern edge of the city. He’d supplied them with the name of someone to speak to. Amelie relayed the information to Eric as he drove.

  ‘Lorraine, eh? I wonder how he knows her. Although I can make an educated guess. He’s a bit of a lad on the quiet, is Stefan. But keep that to yourself.’

  Stefan had clearly phoned ahead as the woman was expecting them and, no doubt having been primed, she had the kettle on ready and a packet of digestive biscuits open on a plate. She invited them to help themselves and made tea to their order. Then she sat back down at her computer.

  ‘So, Lucy Robson. A sad case. The mother died of a drugs overdose, as you probably know. There was only her and Lucy. No father on the scene, and no family traceable, so Lucy was taken into care just before her thirteenth birthday.

  ‘She was being looked after by a neighbour, it says here. A man called – good gracious, what a mouthful – Bartholomew Ignatius Byrne. The notes say they did seem very attached to one another. The girl cried when she was taken away from him. But as he wasn’t a relative he clearly couldn’t keep her with him.

  ‘Lucy was placed in a home and she stayed there until she was sixteen. Again, because he wasn’t a relative, Mr Byrne wasn’t given details of where she was, so as far as I can tell from the notes here, the contact between them ended.’

  ‘Do you have any record there of anything which Lucy might have said about him?’ Amelie asked her. ‘About the relationship between them or anything? Or would we need to go to the home and try to find someone who’d known her in her time there?’

  Lorraine was scanning the screen rapidly, speed-reading through the notes which appeared there.

  ‘Everything I’m reading here says Lucy was a very quiet, rather withdrawn girl who was never any trouble, but showed no inclination to open up to anyone about herself or her feelings.

  ‘Most children in care stay in the system and get support until they reach the age of eighteen. Lucy was very clear, from early on, that she intended to leave as soon as she was legally allowed to do so, at the age of sixteen. And that’s exactly what she seems to have done. She didn’t give any indication of where she was going and refused to give a forwarding address.

  ‘Staff tried hard to get her to stay, to accept the continuing help and support available to her but she was adamant. She had somewhere else she’d rather be, and so she left. Apart from a few cards to the home saying she was fine, doing part-time work and continuing her studies, that’s the last record we have of her, I’m afraid. We have no idea where she is now.’

  Chapter Sixteen

  ‘Are you eating the magic mushrooms or something, Ted? Only that sounds a bit far-fetched to me. Been watching too many bad cop shows on TV?’

  Ted was on the phone to his contact, Jono, at the Metropolitan Police.

  ‘It was something Josie Balewa and I were discussing yesterday when we were having a debrief about Spain. That it was strange for a copper with Shawcross’s experience not to have covered his tracks better than he did. Almost as if he was expecting someone else to cover his back for him.’

  ‘Yes, but realistically, it was a hell of a long shot that some copper from Greater Manchester would drop into Shawcross’s local when he was having a cosy chat with one of Britain’s most wanted. Like you say, he was a copper, so he’d have planned things to make sure the two of you didn’t meet. He’d have done his homework on you. Found out you’re not a drinker. So he wouldn’t have expected you to nip into a bar on your way to interview him at his home as planned.’

  ‘That’s possible,’ Ted conceded. ‘But then we suddenly get this bloke in Gibraltar trying to smear me and Josie with the videos ...’

  ‘Yeah, we saw those. Lovely mover, your husband.’

  ‘Is there any bugger on the planet who’s not seen that video?’

  Jono laughed. ‘Maybe some hermit living in retreat on an island which doesn’t have internet. Seriously, though, Ted, you and Josie are both right about this whole mess going a lot higher than we’ve gone so far. So it is possible this so-called journalist is in someone’s pocket and being paid to do a hatchet job.

  ‘We’re pretty flat out on this case, as you can imagine. It’s like a bloody octopus, with the number of tentacles there are and where they take us. And as fast as we chop one off, another appears to take its place. But I’ll put someone onto looking into the bloke in Gib. What’s he called again, Meccano? He might just lead us to some bigger fish.’

  ‘Mercado. David Mercado. His company’s Mercado International Life and Finance.’

  Jono laughed again. ‘He didn’t think that acronym out properly, did he? Unless he’s taking the piss, of course. Anyway, I’ll let you know if we find anything out about him. And seriously, Ted, thanks again. You bumping into Maxwell like that and finding his house was a big boost. I doubt we’d have got to him for ages without that chance encounter. Especially if there is someone much higher up taking care of this, which is what we’ve suspected for a long time.’

  When Ted ended his call, there was a knock on his office door and Virgil came in. There was no hint of an atmosphere between them. They were both too professional for that. The earlier incident was done with as far as they were concerned.

  ‘Boss, can I just run something past you, because Jo’s out?’

  ‘Of course. Take a pew. What have you got?’

  ‘I’ve been looking into contractors who might use chainsaws and the like. I decided to look at all of them, not just those who’ve worked for the council. I’ve also run all of them through the system to see what that throws up.’

  ‘Good. That makes sense. Anything interesting?’

  ‘Possibly. One of the outfits, a small one, by all accounts, reported the theft of a load of equipment off their truck when they were doing some contracting work for Highways, a few months back. Only the kit stolen included a chainsaw, some tree loppers and a heavy-duty shredder. And I was wondering if such a shredder might possibly cope with things like amputated fingers and, erm, well, the other thing. I don’t even like to think about that.’

  ‘Does the time-line fit? With the length of time our body parts were frozen?’

  ‘It does, boss. I’ve checked against the Professor’s report and the theft was within the length of time she says is the maximum for the body parts having been frozen. And it’s likely it was cut up before being frozen, so it would fit better in a domestic freezer. Easier to cut, too, unfrozen, I imagine.’

  ‘What’s the company?’

  ‘They’re called Tam Lee, from up beyond Offerton Green way. Small company, just two employees registered, one of whom is the company director. At the moment I can’t find anything more about them at all. I haven’t tried contacting them yet. I wanted to run it past Jo first, but he’s out so I thought I’d ask you before I go any further.’

  ‘You did right. This potentially complicates things. If someone stole those items, it could be anyone. Which means it’s not going to be as simple as checking the equipment of all the firms in the area for any traces of human blood or flesh. Or even for a match to the same type of trees that were found in the wounds on the body parts. And of course, like Eric Morgan said, there’s nothing to stop anyone owning a chainsaw or loppers. You can buy them at any big
DIY or gardening shop.

  ‘For now, can you pull out the file on the report of the theft and go through that. Just in case there’s anything in it that we need to look into. Good work, Virgil, thanks.’

  ‘Well, that potentially throws a bit of a spanner in the works regarding finding people with motives,’ Jo commented, after Virgil had laid out his latest findings, once everyone was back in at the end of the day. ‘If by any chance the tools which were stolen were the ones used in this crime, we’re back to square one regarding who might have used them.’

  ‘I’ve said all along that was a bit of a tentative idea. Like I said to the boss before, I’ve got a chainsaw in my garden shed. I’ve been tempted to use it on a few folks in my time, but I’ve resisted the urge. So far,’ Eric Morgan put in.

  ‘Have we checked if anyone has form for crimes involving a chainsaw?’ Ted asked.

  ‘No one on our patch, boss,’ Jo told him. ‘It’s a big job to widen the search and track down anyone else with that kind of previous. It’s already stretching us a bit looking into our friendly local arsonists who are out and about. Steve’s been checking on those, whenever he gets a moment.’

  ‘Sir, the MO in our two latest cases is very distinctive. I’m not finding any matches in any other cases. Not with exactly the same precise measurements, and the compass points. Not anywhere.’

  ‘Jezza, you’ll be pleased to hear my visit to Mr Warren tomorrow has been confirmed. It’s just possible he might at least tell me what the significance of the yard-wide circle and the four compass points is.

  ‘Steve, you’re the online gamer expert. Is that symbol relevant to anything like that? Or to any film, or TV series? Anyone? It clearly means something very specific to our arsonist, but where does it come from?’

  ‘I can ask Tommy,’ Jezza said. ‘Maybe it’s something from Tolkien. The precise dimension of a hobbit’s front door or something. If Tom doesn’t know, he’ll spend hours trying to find out and he’ll love doing it. Plus his time won’t come off your budget, boss.’