Cherry Picking

by Tim Heath

  Mary Ingham sat at a table in the attached refreshment area of the police station on the far side of the room, a warm semi-tasty cup of coffee in her hands. She thought of how Simon wouldn’t have approved of the coffee, refusing to even touch it if it came out of a machine like the one sitting there on the side. She was deeply saddened at the loss of Simon, who’d been a good friend over the years, the shock of his death only now just starting to sink in. Even more shocking was the fact that he was murdered and that Terry, the quiet lad from Simon’s department, was now sitting in custody. DCI Jack Derry walked into the room, catching her attention and she put the coffee down on the table. “If you would please come with me, Mrs Ingham, I’d like to ask you some questions,” he said.

  She stood up and followed him out and up a corridor to a much more comfortable room, with new looking soft leather sofas against the wall. They went over and sat down.

  “How well did you know Mr Allen?”

  “Simon and I go a long way back. We spent many years working together at the Department.”

  “And how well did you know Terry?”

  “I saw him around but never worked closely with him. He was in Simon’s department, working quite closely with him. He’s been there two or three years I think. I’m not sure where he came from before that but I think he did have some experience. He fitted right in, kept his head down and quickly worked alongside Simon. Did he really do this?” DCI Jack Derry could see the pain in her face as she asked him.

  “That is what we are trying to confirm but don’t concern yourself with those thoughts, Mrs Ingham.” He paused for a moment before asking another question. “Had there been any changes in the behaviour of Simon or Terry that you had noticed in the last few days?” Mary thought for a moment.

  “No, nothing that I could tell. Simon stayed at home yesterday, working and now today…,” Mary paused, taking a breath to stop herself from crying.

  “And yesterday where was Terry?”

  “In the office, I believe. You’d need to confirm that with those that sit near him as like I said, I work in a different area of the building but do oversee the whole department.”

  “Thank you, Mrs Ingham. We’ll do that just to make sure and to see what anyone else may have picked up in the relationship between the two of them. We’ll also need to have a look at his office computer. Would that be OK?”

  “Of course, whatever you need.”

  DCI Jack Derry thanked her and turned to walk out of the room, Mary following behind him, nearly bumping into PC Chambers, who’d been waiting in the doorway, never too far from their conversations.

  “I’ll get someone to drop you back, if that’s all right. They can then pick up his computer and see if anyone else knows anything that might be helpful. Wait here one minute, please.”

  He walked away and five minutes later came back with a young female police officer who would drive her back and collect Terry’s office computer.

  At about that same time a call originating from the police station itself was made, going to another one of Brendan Charles’ special voice mail facilities:

  “Ingham leaving now, nothing said that would be a problem and she’s being taken back to the office. Goldman’s computer is being brought here. Will keep all ears out on him and drop him the moment he breaks, as instructed.”

  DCI Jack Derry walked back into the investigation room.

  “Anything from the house yet?” he said.

  “Just got this in, sir,” said a young officer, putting down the handset and walking over to Jack.

  “They’ve found lots of draft letters on his home computer written apparently to Simon Allen in a very threatening and aggressive manner, all left unsigned. Two of them threatened to kill him if he didn’t pay up.”

  “So, we have the evidence,” Jack said, smiling.

  “OK, let me know if anything further comes in, I’m going to question Goldman now. PC Chambers, please come with me.”

  **********

  Brendan Charles had just got off the phone with Ted Hague and he was not a happy man. He paced up and down thinking things through. Hoping that they had some progress to report on the search for this Robert character who had been snooping around, all they’d been able to say was that the trail was cold.

  Brendan had kicked his metal waste paper bin halfway across the room making a rather loud crash as it hit the wooden floor, it was heard across the entire office. They all knew not to come in and see what was wrong, regular fits of anger were now commonplace where Mr Charles was concerned.

  Ted Hague had insisted they’d continue searching but had reminded Brendan how they’d also been cleaning up elsewhere, on his behalf, referring to Terry Goldman. That hadn’t gone down well and though Ted hadn’t said the name, Brendan didn’t want any association with that whole situation — which Ted knew only too well. He’d become frustrated that he was always at the dirty end of things. The money was good, but he feared that one day it would end and he’d be left high and dry and totally at risk of exposure. What Ted wasn’t aware of in Brendan’s anger was that Brendan too was now under increasing pressure from Nigel Gamble to find out who this was. And not having anything to report back to Nigel would be far harder on him than he had been with Ted.

  Brendan partly thought that Nigel Gamble was losing his mind, with his desperation to know who Robert was, paranoid maybe about his wealth and no longer able to enjoy it, assuming that everyone was after it. Brendan’s thinking was influenced by the excessive charade he knew Nigel went through whenever he ventured out, which wasn’t often, changing his physical appearance to make himself look like an old man. But in all the years that Brendan had known Nigel, having been taken under his wing, Nigel Gamble had always talked about looking out for anyone that would be after him. Brendan therefore needed to take on much of the public face of the company. Nigel had trusted in him and paid well for it, which meant Brendan had been able to give his family everything they needed and wanted, which was his only motivation in the early days and which remained very strong even now. Originally Brendan too had been taken in by the image of an old wealthy business man who now wanted to train up a younger man who’d one day take over things. That had been his entry into Nigel’s world and now he was in too deeply to get out, even though he knew he’d never get to run things himself.

  Brendan had instructed Jessica to get back to work at the Department of Information where she’d first seen Robert and to report anything immediately if he showed up, which he realised, would be highly unlikely.

  Brendan was not in any rush to speak to Nigel at that moment though, so he would put it off until much later. Being informed instead that he had a voice mail message he stopped pacing around and went over to his phone, dialled the voice mail number and listened to the message that had been left for him from earlier that day.

  **********

  DCI Jack Derry had just interviewed Terry Goldman for the first time since his arrest and he came out, with PC Chambers, to get a drink, collect his thoughts and prepare to talk to him again.

  He couldn’t figure the man out. He’d seemed shocked, a little distant and almost surprised by the situation he was now in. He’d figured too that Terry must have needed a rest so taking a short break would do them all good. While they drank some tea a young police constable came to them from the investigation room.

  “We have further results back from both his computers,” he said, Jack looking up to hear what they were.

  “He was into some sick stuff, sir, mostly on the home computer but even at work it wasn’t good.” He passed him a folder that was full of the print outs, some of which showed children, some rape victims and gang attacks, all indecent and the vast majority illegal.

  “Thank you,” Jack said to the young PC who turned and walked back to the room. Shaking his head at what he was looking at, he turned to PC Chambers and said, “Looks like there’s another side to this young man that we need to press.”

  “Indee
d, sir. The sick bastard!”

  “Come on, let’s go back,” Jack said, ushering with his head.

  They walked back into the room with some force and instantly Terry knew the atmosphere had changed. Gone were the smiles, the gentle approach that they had had before. Now they seemed angry and Terry was afraid. Throwing down the folder of photos in front of Terry, pictures spreading out across the table, DCI Jack Derry bent down over Terry and spoke into his ear calmly.

  “You’ve been a sick boy, haven’t you?”

  Terry flinched a bit as he glanced at some of the photos and looked away again.

  “Look,” he said, finally breaking, “I don’t know what’s going on here but someone has planted those photos. OK, I saw Simon this morning, I took him to a meeting.”

  “Oh, so now you did see him this morning and yet at your office you told me that you hadn’t? Why was that, Terry? Why?”

  “Look, don’t I get to have my lawyer present? I don’t know what’s going on here but I didn’t kill Simon, you have to believe me. I just took him to a meeting.” Panic was starting to set in and PC Chambers glanced up at DCI Derry and they both realised that his lawyer was needed, therefore they’d better stop and let him calm down. They’d got him now anyway, the evidence was there, there would be no escape, even with the best lawyer in the world. They both went to the door and signalled for someone to come and take him to the cell.

  Just the two of them again, PC Chambers whispered to Jack:

  “We certainly got a reaction there then! I thought he was going to pass out in fear once you’d revealed his little dirty secret.”

  DCI Jack Derry grunted and went to his office. His head was starting to hurt a little so he reached for a tablet and swallowed some water.

  ‘Why kill Simon Allen?’ he thought to himself. ‘Maybe he’d discovered what we’ve just found? But then he’d surely have just reported him?’ He shook his head, deciding that he’d let events unfold before drawing any conclusions.

  He picked up a packet of biscuits that he had in his top drawer and started eating them while signing some letters that his PA had left on his desk. Ten minutes later, there was a frantic knock at the door, a young female clerk rushing on in. “I think you’d better come, sir. The doctor’s been called — it’s Terry Goldman. They think he’s had a heart attack!”

  Chapter 10

  PC Chambers, a slim man of medium height with regulation cut short black hair, had worked at that particular police station for about two years and enjoyed his job immensely. He had quickly built up a great understanding with his then new DCI, which made him in time usually the preferred choice of back-up for DCI Jack Derry and so they now worked together frequently.

  Having already been alerted earlier that morning by a telephone call while still at home, he had been told that a Terry Goldman would be arrested later. Brief details were given about the man, painting quite a picture as PC Chambers got ready for what would turn out to be quite a day. Before leaving his modest semi-detached house that he lived in by himself, he went into his garage from the kitchen. Hidden behind a large toolbox he housed his safe and inside it, for when extreme action was required, he had been given ten syringes filled with the very latest drug, which was not available yet on the open market. In many aspects a real medical breakthrough, it was actually currently not used by anyone else at this time. The drug was to be administered to the victim through a short stab of a needle, the point of entry of which, if done correctly, would be impossible to find. Once the drug entered the blood stream, which it would do in under ten-seconds, it would induce a very rapid heart attack that would kill its victim instantly yet leave all the obvious signs that could only point to the cause of death as being just that — a heart attack.

  PC Chambers closed the safe quickly and with the needle taped securely to his left ankle, which was then covered over by his sock and trouser leg, he’d left the house and driven the short three miles to the police station with some renewed vigour, even by his standards.

  The day had indeed lived up to his earlier expectations with the events unfolding as they had and having accompanied DCI Jack Derry around for most of it, PC Chambers had seen at first hand the man he’d been told about — Mr Terry Goldman.

  So when later in that day Terry Goldman had started to speak under interrogation and they’d had to stop in order to get his lawyer as well as to give themselves a break, PC Chambers knew that the time to act had come. Having watched his DCI walk back down the hall towards his office, he’d listened for a moment for the familiar click that the door made when it was closing shut. Happy that the coast was clear, PC Chambers made his way around the corner to where the cells were located, checking all the time to see who was around. A lot quieter than it sometimes was there, there were only two or maybe three other guys around at the best of times and now they were no doubt busy as usual, away from the main desk in one of the adjoining rooms. Because the Custody Desk was not open to the public, it was not uncommon for it to be left empty for long periods of time. The paperwork required by the new laws meant sitting down to do it in the attached offices was far more comfortable than trying to do it standing at the desk.

  Bending down to appear to be doing his shoe lace, PC Chambers unstrapped the needle and carefully put it inside his right coat pocket. Standing up and having yet another glance around, he leaned over the desk and picked up the clip-board that had the inmates listed against the detention cell in which they were now located.

  With everything remaining quiet around the desk, PC Chambers slipped further down the corridor, turning the corner to where the cells were located. He stopped briefly outside the cell of Terry Goldman, where he listened with his ear pressed against the cold metal door to make sure that no one else was in with him already. Satisfied that Goldman was alone, PC Chambers proceeded to undo the locks, the door coming free, and pulling it open he walked into the cell, pulling the door shut behind him. Terry Goldman was sitting on the wooden bench at the back and looked up a little surprised. PC Chambers stood there quietly for a moment, frozen in time for a second, as he thought about what he was about to do. He’d never actually done this before on a real person, having always been ready, but now it was real and he was standing in front of his target, alone in the cell together, Terry Goldman just gazing up at him, a sorrowful mess.

  Starting to look a little concerned, Terry said; “What are you here for?”

  Shaking PC Chambers out of his momentary idleness, he calmly went to pick Terry up by his chubby arm, as if escorting him out of the cell. Once standing he twisted his arm around behind his back, pinning Goldman against the wall and revealed the flabby folds of skin that sat there on his large arms. Terry went silent, shocked at what was happening and in pain as his arm was really starting to hurt now.

  “Terry Goldman,” PC Chambers said, having reached and pulled the needle from his right hand pocket, “You are a sick, perverted man and your time has now come. You wouldn’t have lasted a week inside anyway!” Pressing the needle into one of the folds on his arm, he injected him with the colourless liquid and released his grip. Terry turned around looking back at him briefly in the face, an expression that would never leave PC Chambers from that moment on, and then starting to fall, his heart now failing, he crashed silently to the concrete floor already dead.

  PC Chambers, putting the cap on the needle and slipping it back down his sock, went back over to the door, listening carefully for the sound of any movement outside and not hearing anything, opened it carefully, checking all the time, before walking out again. Closing the door he walked away as quickly as he could back down the corridor and into the main station again.

  The Duty Sergeant, thinking that he’d heard footsteps, returned to his desk but saw no one around. Listening for a moment he decided he’d go and check on the cells. Terry Goldman’s cell was first on the left and noticing straight away that the top lock stood open, he pulled down the metal window to see Terry lying on the floor. He
quickly turned the key, opened the door and then went to raise the alarm.

  A doctor was there within minutes and he quickly confirmed that the prisoner was dead.

  DCI Jack Derry also turned up, having been made aware of the situation when the doctor had been called, and he arrived to hear the confirmation of the death. Pulling the Duty Sergeant to one side, he asked; “What happened here, Adam?”

  “Doc says it has all the hallmarks of a heart attack.”

  DCI Jack Derry shook his head in disbelief.

  “There was one thing that was odd though, sir, if we could have a word in private.”

  DCI Jack Derry had known Adam Woodall for too many years and Adam was a straight-down-the-line type of guy. They walked over to a separate room as Terry’s body was being covered over and prepared to be removed for the autopsy. DCI Jack Derry closed the door behind them and gave Adam his full attention.

  “I thought that I’d heard someone at the desk so had come back from the filing room to the desk but no one was there. That’s what prompted me to check the cells. And, you know how it is here, I spotted straight away that the top lock on Goldman’s cell had been left open. Now I drum home the importance of following procedure with all my staff and I’ve fired people for making that mistake in the past. But I put Goldman in that cell myself and I’m positive that I wouldn’t have left that lock open.”

  DCI Jack Derry respected Adam Woodall a lot and always greatly valued what he had to say. Not wanting to rule out the possibility that Adam had just made a mistake, he decided to play things very carefully, not sure what to think about it at this stage. ‘But what if there had been someone around?’ he thought to himself. Knowing he could trust Adam he said:

  “OK, let’s keep this between us. Officially this goes down as a probable heart attack and no one knows anything more, OK? I’ll need you to put it in writing, confidentially of course, what you’ve just told me. No one will know about this apart from us until we’re sure about things. If you remember anything more, then you come only to me, is that clear Adam?”