Driving Dead

by Stephen G Collier

  ‘How long has he worked out of the estate office?’

  ‘I don’t know. Got to be twenty/thirty years at least, probably more.’

  ‘He started early on then, like Avril?’

  ‘Yes. They may even have started about the same time.’

  ‘The Fulboroughs tended to keep their staff then?’ Randall moved his position slightly to regain eyes contact with Marjorie. She’d moved to look through the kitchen window into the middle distance.

  ‘Only those who they wanted to keep. The old Lord was ruthless about getting rid of those he didn’t want around.’

  ‘Like Avril?’

  ‘That was different.’

  ‘In what way?’

  ‘He liked having her around him.’

  ‘Even after she’d had his child?’

  ‘Yes, but like Barry, he didn’t have much to do with her.’

  ‘A girl?’

  ‘Yes. Didn’t you know?’

  ‘We thought it would be one or the other.’ Randall smiled at his own joke. ‘Where is she?’

  ‘She disappeared with her mother.’

  ‘Really? What sort of time scales are we looking at here?’

  ‘Well, Vanessa was born around eighty three, eighty four time, when Avril was quite young, seventeen I think.’

  ‘So, when her mother disappeared, she went as well?’

  Marjorie nodded again and took another sip of tea. She’d kept it cupped in her hands throughout the interview.

  ‘Did you ever see them again?’

  ‘No,’ Marjorie paused for a moment, ‘you don’t think that those two bodies you found are them, do you?’

  ‘We can’t say at the moment.’ Randall wouldn’t give any more away.

  ‘You’ve got this DNA thing that you use now? Surely you’d be able to find out?’

  ‘We have no DNA to compare it with, unfortunately.’

  Randall watched, as he saw Jake writing furiously in the back of his notebook. Jake showed it to him. Randall looked at him and read the note, then looked back at Marjorie.

  ‘Thank you, Marjorie, you’ve been very helpful. We may need to ask you some more questions later. Would that be OK?’

  ‘Yes, Inspector, that’s fine. Anything I can do to help.’

  Randall and Jake left Marjorie.

  By the time he got back to the car, Jake was already on the phone to Kirsty Kingsfield.

  ‘Kirsty, did we ever do a DNA comparison for the remains found in Fulborough Wood?’

  ‘Yes, both of them,’ Kirsty replied.

  ‘Did we get a match?’

  ‘No, we haven’t compared the two though.’

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘Haven’t been asked.’

  Randall looked again at Jake’s hand written notes in capital letters. “HER NAME WAS TYLER. WE HAVE BINGHAM TYLER’S DNA!!”

  ‘Did we run a DNA comparison between both remains and Tyler?’

  ‘No, we didn’t have a reason to.’

  ‘You have now. Can you arrange it?’

  ‘Yes, we can do that.’

  Jake terminated the call. He looked around at Randall and smiled. ‘I’m glad I brought you along, first decent break we’ve had in this case. Good job!’ he said, smiling while starting the car.

  55

  Randall sat with Martin across the table from Frank Philpott in an interview room at the Criminal Justice Centre. Philpott appeared relaxed and unconcerned, possibly under the misapprehension that his boss was going to bail him out. Randall had a file in front of him, with some damming evidence against Philpott – or that’s what he’d make Philpott think anyway. The interview room was hot and stuffy and the silence between them hung in the air like a muggy evening before a storm. The background noise of the CJC was the only intrusion. After reminding Philpott that he was still under caution, Randall started by relaying Lord Fulborough’s comments about Philpott.

  ‘I went to see your boss this morning.’

  Philpott sat in silence, stony-faced.

  ‘He asked me to give you a message.’

  Still no reaction.

  ‘He said to tell you that – you’re fired.’

  Philpott shifted a little in his chair as a look of thunder crossed his face. ‘He can’t do that!’ he roared.

  ‘I think he can. And he has. And he has every right to do so after what you’ve done to him. What did you expect to happen? That he’d take you back as if nothing had happened?’

  ‘But I’ve worked there all my life!’ replied Philpott ignoring the question.

  ‘So he tells me.’

  ‘He’s not heard the last of this. He doesn’t realise how much I know.’

  ‘Oh, I think he does, that’s why you’ve been sacked. Other than knocking him unconscious and leaving him to die.’

  Philpott folded his arms in front of him and said nothing.

  ‘So, let’s do the easy bit first, shall we?’

  ‘If you want.’

  ‘Tell me why you assaulted Fulborough.’

  ‘The man’s a wimp, not like his father,’ Philpott sneered.

  ‘Is that a reason?’

  ‘Under the circumstances it was the right thing to do and – satisfying.’ He smiled.

  ‘You think so, do you? Do you always resort to violence when you don’t get your own way?’

  ‘Not always.’

  ‘So why that night?’

  ‘I was angry.’

  ‘At what?’

  ‘Him. For not having enough balls to leave things alone.’

  ‘About the remains, you mean?’

  Philpott nodded.

  ‘For the recording, please?’

  ‘Yes, about the remains.’

  ‘You don’t think that finding skeletal remains in the wood necessitated calling the police?’

  ‘No comment.’

  ‘Did you not think we’d find out anyway?’

  ‘If they’d done the job and kept their mouth shut, nobody would be any the wiser.’

  ‘You mean the workers you paid off?’

  ‘Right.’

  ‘But you can’t trust them can you? Because one came to us full of remorse.’

  ‘More fool him. I knew he was the weak link in the chain, but I didn’t think he’d drop his mates in it as well.’ Philpott sat forward. Randall thought that he might be getting somewhere with him.

  ‘He recognised that it was wrong and obviously has higher moral standards than you.’

  ‘If you say so.’

  ‘I do say so, because it’s not the first time, is it?’ Randall looked down at his folder and looked back up at Philpott.

  ‘I told you I know where all the secrets are on that estate.’

  ‘Did you know about this particular secret, when you started excavating?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘But you said nothing – you didn’t let on?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘You had it all worked out though, didn’t you? In case they came across the remains? The bribe to keep them quiet about putting it back?’

  ‘No comment.’

  ‘You fought with Fulborough, because his morals are higher than yours.’

  ‘He didn’t want me to conceal the remains.’

  ‘So you hit him – hard.’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘And left him to die.’

  ‘No – I didn’t know he’d be there all night. I thought he’d come round and go home with a headache.’

  ‘You gave him quite a wallop.’

  ‘Sometimes I don’t know my own strength.’ A smile flickered across Philpott’s face.

  ‘Who do those remains belong to in Fulborough Wood?’

  ‘No comment.’


  ‘But you know who both of them are, don’t you? The one we found recently and the one we found twelve months ago?’

  ‘No comment.’

  ‘I’m not playing games here, Frank. You will need to talk to me at some stage. Is this how it’s going to be?’

  ‘Seems that way.’

  ‘What can I say to you that would allow you to give me the information that I need?’

  Philpott thought for a moment, but said nothing.

  ‘Look, Frank, we need to clear up a fifteen-year-old riddle. If my information is right, these two people.’ Randall removed three photographs, two of the skeletal remains and one of Ian Morton, placing them on the table in front of Philpott. ‘These people need to be laid to rest, properly and not left in an unmarked grave in some churchyard in Northampton.’ He paused, before asking, ‘Who’s Ian Morton?’ Pointing to his picture.

  ‘The contractor working on the wood.’

  ‘Did you pay him off?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘How much?’

  ‘Two grand.’

  ‘To keep him quiet?’

  ‘He obviously didn’t keep quiet though, did he?’

  Randall leaned back in his chair. The silence hung for a moment, Randall hoping that Philpott would fill it. Tap, tap with his pen, as if going to write.

  ‘There’s nothing I can tell you without compromising myself.’

  Randall smiled.

  ‘If you help us, I’ll put in a good word for you with the CPS. Tell them that you’ve co-operated fully and, after all this time, to show some leniency. I can’t promise it, of course, but I’ll tell them.’

  Philpott remained silent for a moment, seemingly studying his hands.

  ‘Well?’ Randall asked, a little frustrated.

  ‘OK, OK, I’ll tell you what I know, but I want a solicitor now.’

  ‘Thank you, Frank, that’s all I want. And I’ll get the duty solicitor in here as well. Is that OK?’

  Philpott nodded. ‘But you have to understand that I was working under orders from the old Lord, for fear of losing my job, work that I’ve loved all my life.’

  ‘I understand that, Frank, but it doesn’t make you immune from the law.’ Randall studied Philpott. He seemed to have relaxed a little, as if the heavy burden he had been carrying around with him for years was about to be lifted.

  Randall called a temporary halt to the interview, to wait for the solicitor.

  56

  Randall thought about how the next interview with Philpott and his lawyer would be best served. How to get the information he wanted in the shortest amount of time. Randall knew that Philpott would try to shift the blame for the deaths onto the old Lord, because neither could contest it. And in any case, the passage of time either at the house or the burial site was too long to reveal any new forensic evidence. Of that he was certain. There had to be someone other than Marjorie who remembered something about it. And he wasn’t sure that Philpott would actually bump off his contractor, Morton? When Marland told him that the case was puzzling he wasn’t joking and with the death of Morton added into the mix, had to mean that they are connected in some way. But how, that was the question.

  He decided to go and talk to Kirsty Kingsfield about the remains of both women. A possibility that there was a connection between the two. He made a phone call and arranged to meet her later that afternoon. He glanced at his watch – lunchtime. But he couldn’t take another HQ lunch again, so he decided to take a break and perhaps pay a visit to the town. He’d never spent a lot of time in Northampton, so he decided to have a wander around the town centre to clear his head ready for Philpott’s next encounter.

  Leaving HQ, he went and parked in the Grosvenor Centre car park, next to the eye-sore that used to be the bus station, but was now a piece of unused wasteland.

  The mall was typical of most town centres. All the big names were there, pedestrianised areas, but it was interspersed with smaller closed and boarded-up shops. Those doors were adorned with adverts for a forthcoming circus coming to the town, some party on the racecourse, and some graffiti of which he had no comprehension.

  He walked into a baker’s and bought a sausage roll, an apple turnover and a coffee. The baker’s had chairs and tables in the mall, so he sat down to eat his lunch and watched the world go by. He checked his emails on his smartphone, which revealed nothing of importance, so he pocketed it and concentrated on people-watching.

  A couple of old men walked by, with small shopping bags, one leather, one canvas. A gaggle of young women, all with phones in their hands, chatting happily, an idiot on roller blades, and a girl in a black hoody and black trousers. So different from his time in the military and what he saw of society in the Middle and Far East.

  He sighed as he thought about his wife. Managing only to block memories while he was working, the minute he relaxed, they came flooding back. He could only imagine that Kirsty Kingsfield had to be going through the same trauma. He knew it would never go away, but hoped, over time, that it would get a little easier.

  Brushing some crumbs from his jacket, before he moved away from the table, he walked back towards his car. He’d managed to park his pool car near to the entrance, but, while making his way towards it, something felt wrong as he emerged onto the car park landing. A prickle at the back of his neck, the sort he used to get on patrol, where his instincts came alive.

  Something was wrong. He slowed his pace, all the nerves in his body preparing him for fight or flight. That primordial response to survival. He clenched his fists as he got closer to his car. Before he got to it, he was swiftly approached by the female in a black hoody he’d seen in the centre. Randall was ready and deflected her with his arm. The force pushed her back towards his car. She raised her hands in surrender. With his fists raised, Randall asked what she wanted.

  ‘I don’t want to hurt you!’ the woman said.

  ‘You won’t get the chance. Why approach me, as if you were going to?’

  ‘I didn’t know what else to do.’

  ‘You could have been more pleasant.’

  ‘I’m not a pleasant person.’

  ‘I wouldn’t know that, would I? And I’ll ask you again, what do you want?’

  ‘You’re Randall, aren’t you?’

  ‘Depends who wants to know.’

  ‘Your lot have arrested Simone Nicholls?’

  ‘I haven’t arrested anyone.’

  Jake, Randall thought, been going off half-cocked again. ‘What’s she been arrested for? And how did you know I’d be here?’ Even I didn’t know I’d be here, mused Randall.

  ‘I happened to be in town.’

  ‘But we’ve never met.’

  ‘I have my methods,’ she grinned.

  ‘And?’

  ‘And what?’

  ‘What do you want me to do about it?’

  ‘Release her.’

  ‘I don’t even know where she is being held,’ he lied.

  ‘You’d better find out.’

  ‘Or what?’

  ‘Somebody may get hurt.’ And with that, she removed a syringe from her pocket.

  Randall looked at it. ‘What’s that?’

  ‘I’ll show you!’ The woman lunged at Randall and stuck the syringe with full force into his chest. Randall grabbed hold of her and pushed her away, before she could get all the contents of the syringe into him. With the woman’s back against the car, Randall hit her hard around the face with a punch. The woman and the syringe fell to the ground, but she was up and away, running fast.

  Randall tried to run after her, but some of the drug was beginning to have an effect. He took a couple of steps and dropped to the floor. His legs wouldn’t move. It was as if they had become lead weights. He managed to sit up against the front wheel of the car. Taking the police radio out of his inner pocket,
he pushed the red assistance button, before he passed out.

  He awoke with Freeman standing over him. The lights of the Accident & Emergency Department at Northampton General Hospital were extremely bright and hurt his eyes. His senses were flooded with the coming and goings of the department, as he lay there and wondered whether it was an effect of the drug he’d been given. He looked down towards his legs to see if they were still there. They were, but somebody had stripped him down to his underpants.

  ‘I hope they haven’t destroyed my suit. It’s the only one I’ve got,’ he said, smiling weakly at Freeman.

  ‘What happened to you?’

  ‘I should ask you that. I’ve no idea.’

  ‘What do you remember?’

  ‘Black hoody, black trousers, female. Asked me why we’d arrested Simone Nicholls, then stuck a needle in my chest, if I didn’t arrange her release.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘How should I know? I don’t even know who Simone Nicholls is.’

  ‘Jake and Stevens arrested her late evening for those road deaths he’s investigating.’

  ‘No wonder I couldn’t find Stevens when I wanted him.’

  ‘He’s doing the paperwork with Jake.’

  ‘Has he released her?’

  ‘No, she’s in court in the morning.’

  ‘But now we’ve got something else to put to her.’ Randall started to get up. ‘Get my clothes, would you, sir?’

  Freeman pushed him lightly back down on the trolley. ‘You’re not going anywhere for the moment. Take a day or two to recover.’

  ‘Can’t do that, boss, too close to solving a real crime.’

  ‘Oh, and what one would that be?’

  ‘Fulborough.’

  ‘I see. Come and see me tomorrow, but take the rest of the day.’

  ‘That’s great, sir, as it’s gone 18:00!’

  Freeman smiled and went to leave. ‘Tomorrow, 09:00, my office,’ he said, as he breezed through the curtains.

  Randall rested his head back on the starchy white pillow. A little sleep would be good, and he closed his eyes while putting together the day’s events.

  57

  Kirsty’s mortuary assistant, Anton, knocked on her office door in the pathology department of the hospital. She beckoned him in and told him to take a seat. He declined. He had in his hand an A4 envelope that he had opened and had come directly to her office once he knew the contents.