by L M Krier
‘Nice one, sarge, good work,’ Ted told him.
The sergeant laughed. ‘Oh, you’ve seen nothing yet. Me and my young oppo have been on a roll today. It’s not all cups of tea and meal breaks, you know. Amelie, love, you tell him. It was your idea, so you should get the credit.’
‘The sarge and I thought we’d take a run out to the tip which Steve highlighted. Just on the off chance. We didn’t for a moment expect to find anything, but it was worth a shot. I couldn’t see why anyone would take the risk of dumping the stuff there in case they were seen. But then, we thought if it was dropped off early morning, it could well be quickly covered over by other things being added. So by the time anyone was sorting through, the person who’d dumped it would be long gone. There are cameras there but they don’t always work, we were told. So we gave it a go. And it paid off.
‘We talked to a couple of the people who work there. They said no one was allowed to help themselves to stuff they saw there. Anything decent was pulled out, done up and sold.
‘The sarge is very good at knowing when someone’s lying and making sure they know he knows.’ Amelie’s look towards her partner was admiring. ‘He could tell straight away that one of the men knew immediately what we were asking about. Eventually he told us he’d seen the chainsaw straight away. It had been dumped early on, wrapped in a big sheet of polythene, so he’d pulled it out and put it straight in the boot of his car, before anyone saw him. He clearly realised it was worth a lot of money.
‘The best news of all for us is that he stashed it in his garage and didn’t immediately do anything with it in case it was too hot to handle. He thought he’d keep it for a while then sell it on, so we were able to recover it. We checked the serial number, and it’s the same one Tam Lee reported missing.
‘It’s now on its way to Forensics in the hope that, if it’s not been used since, there might be traces of Betula nigra tree fibres, and maybe even of Byrne himself. It was still wrapped in the polythene sheeting, so that’s gone for testing as well.’
‘So with evidence of an insurance fraud at the least, does that get you enough for your search warrant of Tam Lee’s place, boss?’ Jo asked him.
‘You know the final decision isn’t mine, but I’ll talk to the Super and to the Big Boss and see what they say. Favourite for me would be to have Cyane in here talking to Martha and Maurice, and at the same time bring Tam Lee in but keep them separate. Rob, you and Virgil talk to her again, as you’ve already made initial contact.
‘Then if we get that warrant, we could get Forensics on site and the search started while they’re both here, safely out of harm’s way.
‘Finally, things are starting to go the way we need them to.’
Ted was feeling upbeat and optimistic as he drove up to Manchester. The Ice Queen was sorting out their warrant to search Tam Lee’s premises. Ted had had a long phone discussion with Doug, from the CSI team, over what they hoped to get out of the search, and what they could legitimately look for, based on a suspected case of insurance fraud.
Above all, Ted wanted them to get into the big garage and workshop he’d seen on his visit, round the back of the small house. If Byrne had ended his days at the property, that was where Ted suspected it might have happened. Mention of the chainsaw being found wrapped in a sheet of polythene made him think that it might have been spread on the floor in there to catch all traces of what must have been a bloody and gruesome killing.
Because the chainsaw was the only one of the allegedly stolen tools which had come to light, it gave scope for a thorough search of the premises in an attempt to find the missing loppers and shredder. He was also anxious for Doug’s team to get a look inside the large freezer he’d spotted in the corner of the building. He suspected that was where Byrne’s dismembered body had been stored before it was scattered and dumped. He imagined it would have been thoroughly cleaned out of all traces visible to the naked eye. With someone as skilled as Doug on the case, if there was the smallest hint of any lingering sign of the presence of a body, he and his team would find it.
‘You look pleased with yourself,’ Martin greeted him when Ted was shown into the same private room they’d used before. One of those reserved for legal visits, which were not subject to the same amount of scrutiny as regular ones.
Ted put his briefcase, which had been searched on entry, down on the floor next to the desk and sat down opposite Martin. They were alone in the room, with an officer on duty outside.
‘Things are slowly turning in the right direction on another case, I hope. So, you wanted to see me. Have you managed to find anything out for me?’
‘I did as you asked. I got god. I saw Warren a few times on the Listener scheme and he put me in touch with the chaplain. And that’s the key word, right there. Touch. Father Archer’s a nice chap. Obviously caring and considerate. But he is a bit touchy-feely. I can imagine that his actions, even though they’re innocent enough, could be open to misinterpretation in a place like this.
‘Archer’s so well-meaning it’s almost painful. He wants to be friends with everyone and to make everything right. Make the bad go away. Funnily enough, we used to see people like him in the hotel trade. They’d bring all their so-called friends in for meals and drinks. Treat them all to whatever they wanted, then often not even have enough money left to get themselves home again.
‘Afterwards, Warren was very interested in anything physical – anything at all – which happened between me and the chaplain. Archer does have an unfortunate habit of patting you on the thigh when he’s trying to give comfort. Like I said before, I’ve been with plenty of blokes and I know the signs. It’s not him making a pass or coming on to you. It’s an incredibly naive man, trying to offer support.
‘Warren really gets off on being told stuff like that, though. It’s clear that’s what he wants to hear. He wasn’t interested in anything else I told him. Just, did the padre touch me? Where did he touch me? How did it make me feel? All that sort of stuff.
‘Does that help you, Ted, or do you need more from me? Only time’s running out for me, a bit. I’m getting near the end of my sentence. Time to call in that favour.
‘It’s been nice having contact with you again but that’s not going to be able to happen for quite a while now. So goodbye, and thank you. For being my friend.’
Ted stood up and put his briefcase on the table between them, making a show of opening it and looking inside. He didn’t want to see what happened next. His reactions were too fast. He needed a distraction.
The thump to the side of his face rocked him on his feet. He let himself go down like a ton of bricks, knocking over the chair, which wasn’t fixed down, unlike the table, in the process. Martin was standing over him shouting loudly, a wide grin on his face, a mischievous wink towards Ted’s prone form.
‘You always were a stuck-up bastard, Ted. Lording it over me ...’
He didn’t get much further before the door burst open and the alarm went off, all available officers in the vicinity immediately being summoned to assist.
‘Back against the wall, Wellman, and don’t move!’ the officer from outside shouted as he rushed over to Ted, glancing down at him while keeping a careful eye on Martin. ‘You all right, sir? What was all that about?’
Ted was feeling his jaw, getting carefully to his feet.
‘I’ve no idea. I thought we were friends, but he just lost it and went for me.’
Other officers had appeared by now and Martin was being hustled out of the room, heading for the Segregation Unit.
‘I’m afraid there’s a ton of paperwork you’ll need to fill out before you can leave, sir. Sorry about that. I’ll show you where, and we’ll get you checked out and photographed. Are you sure you’re all right?’
Chapter Thirty-one
‘Cyane Lee?’ Martha held out her ID card and put on her most reassuring smile. ‘DS McGuire, DC Brown, from Stockport Police. As you know, we’re investigating the theft of items of equipment b
elonging to your partner, Tam Lee. I wondered if you’d mind coming with us to the station so we can ask you a few questions about it?’
Cyane Lee’s thin face peered at them around the front door. They’d had to knock several times before she opened it. The pallor of her face made her brown eyes look darker, almost black.
‘I don’t go out,’ she told them. ‘Only sometimes. With Tam.’
‘We’ll take you there and bring you back. We hopefully shouldn’t need to keep you for long. We’ve got the car outside. If you want to confirm we are who we say we are, you’re welcome to phone the police station to check.’
Cyane looked past them at the black car which Maurice had backed into the driveway to avoid obstructing the narrow lane.
‘That’s not a police car.’
It was Maurice’s turn to smile at her now. To dial up the Geordie charm which made him so good at speaking to people. He could see straight away that the reports were true. Her responses had nothing adult about them. Without appearing to patronise, he told her, ‘It’s a special CID car we use for important undercover work. But it has blue lights and a siren. I can show you, if you like?’
Her face lit up at that, showing the child-like quality they’d heard about.
‘I’ll get my coat,’ she told them, disappearing inside.
Martha stepped over the threshold to keep an eye on her. It would interfere with how they’d planned things to go if Cyane phoned Tam to tell her what was happening.
Cyane appeared so eager to see the car and its flashing lights that Martha had to remind her to shut and lock the front door before they left. Maurice gave a short flash of the blue lights and a quick blast from the siren before they set off. If they were to earn her trust enough to get her to talk, it was important to be honest in what they told her, right from the start.
She climbed happily enough into the back seat, as instructed. As Martha slid into the front passenger seat and Maurice started up the car, they exchanged a look which spoke volumes. This clearly wasn’t someone functioning on full adult level.
They went with what they’d discussed with the boss about the interview – to talk to her in a witness room to start with, whilst recording the conversation, with her agreement.
Martha began by showing her the photo Jezza had taken of the painting from the school.
‘Is it all right if I call you Cyane, or is there something else you prefer to be called? And do you mind if we record our conversation?’
‘Cy is fine. I like Cy. That’s how I sign the paintings. Cy. In black ink. Like that one. I did that one.’
‘Are you sure this is one of yours, Cy?’ Martha held her phone closer to her. Cyane took it from her with both hands and looked closely.
‘Yes, that’s mine. Look. You can see where I signed it. C.Y. Cy.’
She handed the phone back. Martha took it carefully, holding it by the opposite end to that which Cyane had touched. She put it on the arm of the chair she was sitting in.
‘Have you always been called Cyane?’
‘Cy,’ she corrected. ‘I’ve been Cy for ages.’
‘Were you ever known by another name?’
The young woman’s face took on a look of cunning as she said, ‘No.’
‘Because you see, Cy, the person who showed us this picture, the one you said you painted, told us that it was painted by a pupil at the school where she works. Someone called Lucy Robson. Are you Lucy Robson, Cy?’
No response.
Martha changed tactics, all the time trying to be as patient and non-threatening in her questions as she could. Maurice sat quietly for the time being, although Cyane didn’t seem in the least troubled by his presence.
‘Do you know a man called Bartholomew Byrne, Cy? You might know him as Bernie.’
Her face lit up immediately at the mention of his name. She turned her attention to Maurice and smiled at him as she said, ‘I know Bernie. We’re going to be married.’
Martha shot a look at Maurice, its meaning clear. Cyane clearly related well to him. He should carry on with the questioning while he had her attention.
‘I thought you were married to Tam, pet?’
She smiled at him as if he’d made a silly suggestion.
‘Oh, that was just a pretend wedding. Like I did with Bernie, the first time. Tam’s always known I was going to marry Bernie. She even helped me to look for him.’
‘And did you find him? When did you last see him?’
‘Yes we did! A few months ago. We were driving along, coming back from a trip out and there was Bernie. Just walking along the pavement. He must have been looking for me, just like I’ve been trying to find him ever since I lost touch with him. And Tam’s always helped me. She’s been wonderful about it.’
‘Did you stop and talk to him?’ Maurice asked her.
‘Yes! It was fantastic. We picked him up and took him back to the cottage with us. For tea. I was so thrilled to see him again. I’d nearly given up hope of ever finding him.’
‘And when was this exactly?’
She frowned, trying to remember. ‘A few months ago, I think. I can’t remember exactly. Maybe about four months. I’m not sure.’
Martha put in a question. Cyane barely glanced at her, her eyes fixed on Maurice.
‘How did you know Bernie?’
‘He was my neighbour. Before my mam died.’
‘When you were Lucy Robson?’ Martha asked gently.
Still looking at Maurice, she nodded in response.
‘And didn’t Tam mind? About you and Bernie? You’d been living with her, as her wife, for some time, hadn’t you?’
‘Oh, she always knew I was just waiting for Bernie to come back. She didn’t mind at all. That’s what’s so good about Tam. She takes care of me and helps me.’
‘So after you had tea, what happened then, Cy? Did Bernie go home? Did you see him again?’
‘I got very tired. With all the excitement. I do get tired quickly. Tam said I should go to bed and she’d run Bernie home. I gave him a big hug and told him I’d see him again soon. He said he had things to sort out but he’d definitely come back as soon as he could. He’s not been yet, though, so I expect things just took a bit longer to sort than he thought they would.’
Martha caught Maurice’s eye again. She didn’t yet know him well. She hoped he would be sharp enough to catch on. Then she spoke. ‘I’m going to need to take a short break, to go and make some phone calls.’
She picked her phone up carefully again, still looking at Maurice. He gave an imperceptible nod. Message received. Her mobile could be their only source of confirming Lucy Robson’s new identity by fingerprints, if she didn’t give consent to have her prints taken.
‘I’ll arrange a drink for you, Cy. Would you like some tea? Or coffee?’
‘Just water, please.’
‘I’ll get a woman officer to bring them in,’ she told Maurice, again hoping he would understand her meaning. She was potentially leaving him in a vulnerable position with someone immature and clearly obsessed with older men. For that reason, she left the door of the room wide open when she went out.
She carefully picked up her phone and slid it into her pocket. Cy wasn’t even looking at her as she did so. The significance of her own actions was clearly lost on her.
Drinks and a chaperone arranged, Martha sprinted up the stairs and went in search of Jo.
‘Is the boss back yet? I need guidance, so perhaps you or he can help me,’ Martha asked him.
‘He’s still up at the prison. He phoned to say he was delayed. I’ll help, if I can.’
Martha gave him a run-down of what she’d learned so far and ended, ‘She seems to have latched onto Maurice for now, so I’ve made sure there’s a female officer with them. But I’m worried about continuing the interview, even low-key and as a potential witness, not a suspect. I know it doesn’t say so anywhere on paper, but I really don’t think she’s operating at a sufficient intellectual level to be i
nterviewed on her own. I think she should have a solicitor present, at the very least. But I don’t want to let her go if the search of the property is under way, clearly. We can’t take her back there while it’s ongoing.’
Jo put his phone on speaker as he called Rob O’Connell, so they could both hear. Rob answered, asked them to wait a moment, then they heard the sound of a car door opening and closing.
‘We’ve just arrived back at the nick with Tam Lee in the rear seat. She went totally apeshit when we showed her the warrant. In the end we had to cuff her for our own safety. We’re just about to bring her in and start interviewing her. The search team’s on their way to the property now. We’ve liaised with them to let them know Tam and Cyane are out of the way.’
‘Lucy,’ Martha told him. ‘Cy’s confirmed that she is Lucy Robson. I’ve had to suspend questioning her for now because I’m not happy she’s competent to make informed judgements.’
‘Right, Rob, you and Virgil bring Tam Lee inside and start questioning her. Keep her well away from Lucy, obviously. Does she know we’ve got her here?’
‘In the end we had to tell her that she wasn’t at the property. She was going hysterical, thinking of the search teams turning up there with Cy home alone. We said we’d moved her to a safe place, but she’s not stupid. She’ll guess she’s here.’
‘Rob, Lucy’s told us that Bernie was at their house, a few months ago. Lucy got tired and went to bed. Tam told her she was going to drive him home and Lucy’s not heard from him since.’
‘Now that’s interesting. Jo, d’you want us to make it an interview under caution now? Put it to her that we believe she’s the last person to have seen Byrne alive and see what she has to say to that?’
‘Yes, that’s the safest bet. I’ll come down and observe in a minute. Martha, what do you want to do about Lucy for now? Is she all right where she is? And do you see her as a suspect for killing Byrne, or being present at the time?’
‘She certainly seems to be all right. She’s really made a connection with Daddy Hen. And no, I honestly can’t see her having the physical strength for one thing, unless she’s dropped weight dramatically since then. She’s skin and bone. She’s asked for water to drink. She looks as if that’s what she lives on. But I’m not at all sure about her mental capacity.’