Slowly, Dixon turned towards Frank Maddock, who nodded in agreement.
‘The first thing you need to know is that Raglan is a drug addict. He’s a regular user of cocaine, which he snorts. It gives him the tremors, but he won’t stop. He let us live in the house for free, as long as he got his sherbert.’ Dixon gave a little nod. He stopped. Waited, it seemed for a reaction, but when he got none from the two detectives, he continued.
‘Anyways, Thomas, the money man, says he wants a meet with us with regard to moving us on. He told Raggy to tell us that he would make it worth our while. Raggy arranged it, a meet at Crownest, to do a deal. That night, we’re sat having a chat, doing a bit of haggling on a figure we’d accept to see us out of the house without any bother. Raggy was fucking spaced out. He was sat with this stupid grin on his face that I really wanted to wipe off, when suddenly this Asian guy crashed through the front door. At first I thought Raglan or Thomas had set us up; I thought the guy was one of your lot coming for us, but soon I realised that wasn’t the case. The next minute this guy has me grabbed in a headlock, and he has a gun pointing up my fucking nostril.’
‘What happened then?’ asked Mike.
‘He’s threatening to kill me; it’s summat about his uncle dying because me and Britt robbed his shop…’ Dixon shrugged his shoulders. ‘I couldn’t deny it, we might have done. But, what I did know was that we hadn’t killed anybody. Then, out of the corner of my eye, I see Raggy reach down the side of the chair he was sitting in and put his hand into my backpack. He pulled out my gun, the one you have, and then, bang, the gun goes off, and I realise I’m still standing, he hasn’t hit me, but he has hit the other guy, who drops like a stone at my feet.’
‘Are you suggesting that it was an accident?’ asked Annie.
Dixon sniggered. ‘Put it this way, it was obvious that Raggy had never held a fucking gun ’afore, love. But he probably saved my life.’
Annie’s head was to the side and she showed Dixon a blank expression.
‘Do you expect us to believe that?’
Dixon shrugged his shoulders. ‘That’s up to you. I don’t really care, but that’s what happened.’
‘What happened next?’ asked Mike.
‘Thomas started screaming, and shouting at Raggy, telling him he’s killed him and that he didn’t want anything to do with it.’
‘What then? I presume that you checked to see if the man was alive?’
‘I didn’t need to. He had a bloody great hole in his head. Britt took over. She slapped Raggy round the face to bring him out of his stupor. Amazing how quick he recovered. But it took us into the early hours to get his body into the hole behind that fucking great fireplace that Raggy knew about. Britt drove his car to his office, and I stood and watched Raggy clear out his safe. We agreed to take the dead man’s gun. Then me and Britt, we left, taking the dead man’s car with us. The least Raggy could do was pay us for our silence.’ Dixon’s eyes flashed wide. ‘Then would you believe it. We found out that the fucking gun that the guy had on him was an imitation!’
‘Where is the vehicle now?’ asked Mike.
‘Sold it to some car ringers who I know, but I won’t name ’em. Got a few quid, and with Raggy’s payout, we bought the motorhome and fucked off out of the country till we’d spent up.’
‘How much did Raglan pay you?’ Annie asked.
‘Not enough.’
‘Where’s Faisal’s gun?’ Mike probed.
‘At the bottom of the deep blue sea,’ Dixon replied, in a smug way.
‘How’s that?’ said Mike.
Dixon grinned. ‘It sort of fell off over the side of the ferry.’
‘Why did you do that when you could have sold it?’
‘I told you, it was imitation, and we didn’t want someone finding it and linking it to us.’
‘Really? I don’t believe you. Faisal Hussain is known for carrying a real firearm, and let’s face it, he’s not going to come after an armed robber with an imitation weapon, is he?’ pushed Mike.
Dixon’s stare was threatening. ‘Prove otherwise,’ he said.
‘Have you spoken to either Raglan or Thomas since you’ve been back in the country?’ Mike continued, in the hope he would carry on talking.
Dixon shook his head. ‘No, why would I?’
‘Tell me, I’d be interested to know why you didn’t dump the gun we found under the bonnet of the motorhome in the sea, too?’
Brad looked puzzled. ‘Because it’s mine,’ he said.
‘Just one last question,’ Mike said. ‘Why now? Why tell us now after all the denials?’
‘Me and Brit were better off on our own. We should have known not to get involved with anyone else. Your boss reminds me of her. She were fucking bossy, too. You were right, when you said before that Brittany would have wanted me to sort it, she would have, and I have now.’
* * *
‘What he’s told us is plausible,’ said Mike, over his shoulder to Annie who was following him down the corridor to the Incident Room, where Charley was waiting for them.
Charley was smiling. ‘Well done,’ she said. ‘It’ll be interesting to hear what Raglan and Thomas say now,’ she said. ‘Seems to me that Thomas’s drug dealing, and Raglan’s drug habit involved them in a pointless murder, and it has now secured their downfall. Dixon was right about one thing, the Dixons were better when they worked alone.’
‘I think Raglan’s ancestors will be turning in their graves if they could see what happened to their business in the hands of their successor. If you think about it, an estate agency is not a bad guise for a money-laundering operation though, is it?’ said Annie. ‘With the price of houses, who’d question large amounts of money going in and out of the accounts?’
‘So, now let’s focus on James Thomas and Jonathon Raglan’s arrest strategy…’
Chapter 38
The confirmation that Brad Dixon’s DNA was the only DNA on the Baikal gun didn’t help the credibility of the story he had told in the final interview. Charley felt a little disappointed, she had been hoping for a connection to Raglan, but after all, it didn’t mean conclusively that Raglan hadn’t touched it.
She scratched her head, her frustrations were palpable to the team. ‘We have evidence to arrest Raglan, but we don’t have any evidence to charge him.’
‘No, I guess the word of a convicted criminal who is trying to get out of a murder charge doesn’t quite—’ said Annie.
Charley threw her hands in the air, ‘It doesn’t make sense that Dixon has practically rolled over for everything we put to him, and yet not the murder itself. Don’t you think if he’d have done it, he would have confessed? What has he got to lose?’
‘Raglan’s drug addiction has got him involved with the wrong kind, no doubt about it, and they’ve used and abused him by getting him to launder the money perhaps; maybe it’s payback for something else that we don’t know about?’ said Annie.
‘What?’ said Mike. ‘Having interviewed Dixon, we both know he’s going away for a long time, but he’s not that fucked up that he doesn’t know if he fired a gun and killed Hussain or not. He doesn’t say he was injecting or had been snorting drugs, so we presume he was quite normal, whatever normal is.’
‘He’s admitted being involved in the murder of Faisal Hussain, and our objective is to put those responsible for Hussain’s murder before the courts to be dealt with. I want Dixon charged with murder,’ said Charley. ‘Even if his story is true, he still assisted an offender by concealment of the body, and the disposal of evidence, and he can still be tried and indicted as a principal. Crown Prosecution might go for a joint enterprise charge, if we’re lucky. Whether he co-operates with the National Crime Agency about the drugs, or not, is up to him, and not of any concern to our investigation.’
There was no mistaking Brad Dixon’s screams and struggles as he was dragged out of his cell to face the charge. Charley leaned her head back on the cold stone wall of the stairwell to the lo
wer floor, where the cells were. ‘I told you who did it. Why don’t you morons listen? I’m not fucking guilty!’ he shouted at the Custody Sergeant Percy Shaw. Charley watched as he was taken back to his cell.
* * *
The old building had now been flattened to the ground, and as she approached Crownest, Charley was shocked to see how much the landscape had opened up to show views of the town and surrounding countryside. An old four-wheeled-drive red pick-up truck with a broken number plate filled with stone was at the old gateway to the house. The police officer in her stopped to watch an old man, with some young children helping him, throw more stones in the van. She drove slowly forwards. Finn, the young Irish worker she’d met previously, came into view, kicking the hard ground around a small fire that was burning the last of the debris. She stopped the car alongside him and got out.
The old man looked at the smartly dressed lady who wore an official badge on her lapel, with fear and suspicion etched on his face. He called the children over to him. ‘It’s the copper I told you about, Da,’ Finn shouted. ‘She’s cool!’
Nevertheless, the old man ushered the kids into the van. ‘I haven’t done anything wrong, missus, honest I haven’t,’ he said in his strong Irish accent ‘You ask our Finn. He’s asked his gaffer if I could ’ave this stone. He’s a good lad, our Finn, he looks after his da,’ and without so much as a by-your-leave, he climbed into the driving seat and Charley watched him drive off as fast as the vehicle would allow him. Billowing smoke poured out of the exhaust. The van coughed and spluttered as it disappeared over the hill to the valley below.
‘Shit scared of you lot, is mi’ Da,’ Finn laughed. ‘He’s had his collar felt so many times for wrongdoing, when in fact he was just in the wrong place at the wrong time. Swears he’s framed.’
Charley laughed. ‘A little bit of fear never harmed anyone, my dad used to say.’
‘Exactly, but he never seems to learn! I can’t count how many times a copper has brought him home drunk rather than put him in a cell, much to mi Ma’s horror.’
‘I’ll bet she probably refuses to open the door, told ’em to take him back, and bring him back sober? Am I right?’
Finn chuckled. ‘That sounds about right.’
Charley glanced down at the fire. ‘Tell me there aren’t bones in there, are there?’
‘No,’ he laughed. ‘The demolition team have gone, and we’re moving on to a new site on Monday. I’m just cleaning up the last bits of rubbish,’ Finn looked around him. ‘I can’t say I’m sorry to see the back of this job,’ he said.
Charley scanned the site. ‘Is the boss around?’
Finn nodded in the direction of a portacabin, just in time to see Joe Greenwood coming out of his office. Joe raised his hand in Charley’s direction and headed briskly towards her, and had started a conversation with her long before he reached her. ‘The foundations will be in and the outer shells up before you know it, once the builders start. Any news on the identity of the bodies?’
‘We’re getting there slowly; it’s surprising what you can get from fragments of bone. Thank you for calling it in,’ she said sincerely. ‘I know it caused you a lot of sleepless nights, and aggro, but you did the right thing. You’ll be pleased to know we have one person charged with murder, and a couple of others yet to speak to, so keep watching the news.’
Joe sighed deeply. ‘Yes, well, in the end they are each somebody’s relative, and whoever they are, they deserve a proper burial.’ All of a sudden his eyes lit up. ‘While you’re here, give me a minute, I’ve got something for you.’
‘Really? Did one of team leave something behind?’
When Joe returned from inside the cabin, he was carrying something wrapped in a dirty old piece of hessian cloth. He was out of breath from rushing. ‘A present,’ he said unwrapping it. A dark oak wood sign, the size of a letterbox, had the words ‘Crownest’ carved into it. Charley was touched. ‘Young Finn ’ere saved it from the fire,’ he said. ‘We thought maybe you’d like it.’
‘Thank you,’ she said taking hold of the sign. ‘I’ll keep it in the Incident Room. Have you seen any more of James Thomas? Happier these days now the buildings down, I’m sure?’
‘No, I haven’t. Rumour has it that he’s sold the land to another builder. That’s how he makes his money apparently, buying and selling.’ Joe raised an eyebrow. ‘I understand he has his fingers in a lot of pies.’
* * *
On arrival back at the station, Charley immediately headed for the movable boards in the Incident Room, which held the pictures of those involved in the case, important facts and dates. These boards acted as a visual aid of vital information which was readily available for all the team members.
‘I want to discuss the arrest of Jonathan Raglan, for murder and money laundering,’ she said to Mike. She was thoughtful for a moment. ‘Whilst we’re at it, let’s get James Thomas locked up at the same time, then there’s no chance of their contacting each other, if they have something to hide.
‘I wonder whose arse will drop out first?’ said Wilkie.
Mike didn’t take long to consider the question. ‘If what Dixon told us is true, I think Thomas will sing like a canary.’
‘No doubt they’ll have already heard through the media about Brittany’s death, what with the headlines, and also about Brad’s arrest,’ said Ricky-Lee.
‘Yes, and who knows, that might make them feel safer,’ asked Charley.
‘Both their addresses have already been assessed for the lock-up and the searching thereafter, boss,’ Wilkie told her. ‘Jonathan Raglan’s home is a bungalow, run down, no kerbside appeal, easily accessible. He isn’t married, nor does he have a live-in partner that we are aware of, so I don’t expect to find anyone else at the address. In contrast, James Thomas lives in a very large, new, detached house in the corner of a small cul-de-sac of four houses. It has a private driveway accessed by electric gates. The distance between their houses is approximately twenty-five miles.’
‘We need to make sure we have the ability to open those gates. I don’t want us stuck outside – that would be embarrassing,’ she added.
‘It’s already sorted, boss.’
‘Of course it is, what else would I expect from a cop with so many commendations?’ she said with a wink, as she walked away. ‘You are one dark horse, DC Wilkie Connor.’
Wilkie sounded puzzled. ‘Who’s been talking about me?’ he called. Swivelling around on his office chair, he looked for a guilty face or two, but there were none.
Tattie scurried into her office the minute Charley sat down at her desk, with a pile of letters that she had typed for the SIO to sign. ‘I hope you don’t mind, but I gave Tim your statement about the shooting, that was on your desk. He came to pick it up this morning while you were out.’ Charley smiled, and with her head down, she scribbled her signature on one letter, after another. ‘What did he think of the cookies?’
‘He ate them all, and he promised he’d be back to see me for more,’ she said, gliding out of the office, as if on a cloud, with a smile on her face.
‘I’ll bet,’ Charley muttered as Annie walked in.
‘Say it again,’ said the young DC, as she stood at the side of Charley’s desk, two cups in her hand.
Charley slowly shook her head. ‘Oh, nothing,’ she said. ‘Are we ready for the briefing tonight?’
Annie nodded her head enthusiastically, passed Charley her mug of coffee, and sat down. ‘Can I just go over a few points in the operational arrest strategy with you?’ She lowered her voice. ‘Wilkie has tasked me with it and I don’t want to disappoint.’
It was Charley’s turn to nod her head. Sitting back in her chair, she sipped the hot drink. ‘Go ahead, I was just about to make notes.’
Annie sat on the edge of her chair. ‘Each team will include officers from the financial investigation unit. They are already aware over at FIU.’ She looked up at Charley for a nod of approval. ‘Their expertise will be useful for adv
ice in the money-laundering aspect.’
‘Good point,’ said Charley.
‘Two POLSA search teams are arranged, one for each address. Sniffer dogs for drugs, money and firearms will be joining us.’
‘Great. The dogs will be sure to find anything much quicker than we could.’ Charley looked thoughtful. ‘For the interview with James Thomas, I want to be firm, but fair. Being arrested will be devastating for him hopefully. He has no previous convictions at all, as far as we know.’
Annie busily noted Charley’s requests, to add them to the document to be circulated to the teams involved.
‘Or maybe he’s never been caught,’ suggested Annie.
‘True. We will need a back-up team of officers searching Raglan’s address to get the keys for the estate agency premises at the same time. This will save their having to force the door.’
Charley spoke her suggestions out loud, and Annie was finding it hard to keep up with her. How she wished, at that moment, that she had listened to the nuns, who had insisted that shorthand would be useful to her one day.
‘I also want both Raglan and Thomas to be brought to our custody suite, where they can be booked in, and placed in a cell until the interview teams are ready to speak to them,’ Charley concluded, much to Annie’s relief.
* * *
Charley opened the briefing. An air of anticipation filled each corner of the room which was packed with officers, all eager to hear what the head of CID had to say.
‘These briefings are always an anxious time for everyone, as we all want the operation to go to plan in order to achieve the best results. However, I am hoping when you leave this meeting you will be confident of your role, so much so that you will get a good night’s sleep, and we can move off swiftly tomorrow morning at six-fifteen, without the need for any further discussions, unless they are urgent.’
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