A Price to Pay

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A Price to Pay Page 4

by Paul Gitsham


  Forcing the self-recriminations to one side for the time being, Warren moved on to the previous night’s interviews with the two young masseuses.

  ‘The timing of events seems to be a little muddled,’ he said. ‘Biljana claims that she heard Cullen scream and that was why she rushed back in; however, she then says that she saw the killer plunge the knife into his chest as she re-entered the room. If her account is correct, that suggests that he screamed before he was stabbed.’

  ‘Maybe the killer startled him? A hooded man standing over you with a knife would do that, especially if he was half-asleep,’ suggested Martinez.

  Warren acknowledged the theory, before moving to his next point.

  ‘Her sister, Malina, says that she was in the reception, when she heard her sister scream; she then rushed in also and claims to have seen the killer stabbing Cullen. There was only a single stab wound. Biljana claims to have screamed when she saw him being stabbed, so I don’t see how her sister could have been in the room when he was stabbed if she only ran in when her sister screamed.’

  The room was silent for a moment, before Martinez spoke up again.

  ‘I still think it could work.’ He leant forward. ‘In her interview, Malina doesn’t mention hearing Cullen scream, yet Biljana heard him from upstairs. Maybe Malina actually heard Cullen scream, not Biljana and so entered the room only just after her sister? That way they could both have seen him being stabbed. You know how unreliable witnesses are in stressful situations, especially when it comes to how long things take.’

  The room was silent again, before Grimshaw spoke up.

  ‘I hate to admit it, but Jorge might be right. We should also get someone else to review the translation. Maybe Serbian is one of those funny languages where past and present tenses are all muddled up?’

  ‘A good suggestion – I’ll see about sending the videos for a second opinion,’ said Warren. It would cost money, but it was essential that the women’s accounts were as accurate as possible. The last thing Warren wanted was for a canny defence team to pounce on a misinterpreted verb ending.

  Grimshaw was on a roll now. ‘If you ask me, those girls have something to hide. They were far too defensive when the boss asked if either of them had slept with Stevie Cullen.’

  Opposite him, Warren could see DS Rachel Pymm rolling her eyes.

  ‘Well wouldn’t you be, Shaun? It had to be asked, but it was tantamount to accusing them of being sex workers.’

  ‘I’m with Rachel,’ said Martinez. ‘Workers in legitimate massage parlours must put up with those insinuations all the time. The Sexual Exploitation Unit said that as far as they are aware, the parlour is a legit, professional business.’

  ‘I’m just saying it as I see it,’ said Grimshaw defensively. ‘Even if the shop is a perfectly lawful business, the girls are on their own all day. They could easily be offering clients a “happy ending” for a few quid bonus, with the owner none the wiser. Maybe that’s why Cullen always requested Biljana?’

  Warren raised a hand to stop the argument getting out of hand.

  ‘Shaun has a fair point.’ He ignored the man’s smirk towards Martinez. ‘It’s something we should look into. Given the discrepancies, I think we have enough to request the phone records of Biljana and Malina. I’d like to know if either of them has contacted Cullen on their personal phones. Let’s not forget that so far, we only have their word that Cullen was killed by an intruder.’

  ‘We should also request the records for their aunt and the business line,’ said Pymm.

  ‘Good idea. Rachel, can you do a RIPA request?’ asked Warren. ‘Get DSI Grayson to sign off on it. Moray, work with her. I don’t think you’ve done one of them yourself.’

  Moray Ruskin nodded; the young detective constable eager as always to get stuck in.

  Warren moved on. ‘Next up, where are we with the searches and the CCTV? Jorge?’

  ‘The fingerprint searches restarted at first light. No sign of the weapon or discarded clothing yet,’ replied Martinez.

  ‘Mags, what about CCTV?’

  ‘There is CCTV footage of the front half of the reception area, although the angle of the camera doesn’t look too helpful.’

  ‘What about out the back?’ asked Martinez.

  ‘Nothing, the camera is broken.’

  ‘That’s convenient,’ said Ruskin. ‘When was it broken?’

  ‘They reckon ages ago,’ said Richardson. ‘If it was deliberate, it shows some serious premeditation. The digital video recorder has been seized as evidence; IT are retrieving the data as we speak.’

  ‘Good. See if they can get some footage of when the camera was broken, so we can see if it’s linked to the killing,’ instructed Warren. ‘What about ANPR?’

  ‘It’s going to take some time, and it’ll cover a huge area. The junctions in the immediate area around the massage parlour aren’t covered by cameras, so we’ll have to cast the net pretty wide. The main roads that are covered are very busy, especially that time of day. I’ve got a team down in Welwyn tracking all the cars in the vicinity. They’ve identified the car that Stevie Cullen was driving, and they’re reconstructing his route that day as best they can.’

  ‘Good. Extend that over the past few days. Clearly, he’s upset somebody enough for them to kill him. I’d like to know where he’s been recently – perhaps we can find a motive?’

  ‘We’ve had our eye on the Cullens for some years,’ said DCI Ian Bergen, an investigator in the force’s Serious Organized Crime Unit. A balding man, with an impressive moustache, Bergen had travelled up to Middlesbury from headquarters in Welwyn that morning to brief the team on the Cullen family.

  ‘I’m sure that many of you have come across them in one way or another over the years, although as a rule of thumb if it’s anything more serious than public disorder, petty vandalism or driving offences, the case is handed over to us as part of our ongoing investigation. Unfortunately, in terms of the serious crime pecking order, they are quite far down the food chain, and so we’ve struggled to justify putting the resources in. They also tend to steer clear of drugs, so we’re cut off from that funding source.

  ‘In a way it was very helpful of Stevie Cullen to get himself killed yesterday; it means we can get you folks to do some of the legwork for us. I’ve been itching to get a warrant to have a wander around their farm for years.’

  The room remained silent. Realizing his humour wasn’t appreciated by the team who would be dealing with the bloody aftermath of the previous day’s killing, as well as liaising with a grieving family, Bergen moved on quickly. ‘It’s good to see a few familiar faces here that I recognize from days gone by in SOC. Your familiarity with the family will doubtless be invaluable.’

  Shaun Grimshaw touched two fingers to his temple in a mock salute and Jorge Martinez nodded in acknowledgement.

  Bergen gestured towards a family tree projected on the board behind him. ‘As you can see, the immediate family is quite large; Mr and Mrs Cullen have five kids. Stevie was the youngest at twenty-three. Expand the family out to include cousins, in-laws and partners and it gets large and complicated very quickly. Not all the people listed here fully partake in the family’s extra-legal activities, but generally speaking most are involved to some extent. Given that one of the sons, Patrick, was convicted of shoplifting nappies a few months ago for his sister, you could even argue that the youngest member of the family – eighteen-month-old Tyler – is probably involved in the handling of stolen property.’

  Warren recognized the man that Bergen was pointing to from his visit the previous night.

  ‘The head of the family is the father, Seamus Cullen. He’s sixty-two years old and has done a handful of short stretches in prison for handling stolen property, and his supposedly peripheral involvement in an armed robbery on a Post Office some twenty years ago. He was convicted of helping the actual robbers store the stolen money, but his defence solicitor successfully convinced the jury that he was only involve
d after the fact and that he had no idea what he agreed to look after, so he only got a couple of months. Total bollocks, but the evidence was lacking. He tries to cultivate an image as a hardworking simple farmer struggling to eke out a living, but make no mistake, he’s a clever and slippery bugger, with a nasty temper to boot. He always seems to be one step ahead of us.’

  He moved over to the next slide. Mrs Cullen.

  ‘Which brings us to the next person of interest, Rosie Cullen. She is also sixty-two, and mother of Seamus’s five children. Unlike her husband, she’s never seen the inside of a prison, although she’s found herself occupying a custody suite a few times over the years, mostly for affray, antisocial behaviour and some petty shoplifting.

  ‘The two of them have been married for forty-odd years, although it’s questionable whether we could describe it as a “happy marriage”. On a couple of occasions, when officers visited the property, Rosie answered the door with fresh bruising to her face. She refuses to admit to being hit and reacts angrily to any suggestion that she may need help. As you know, there is very little we can do in those circumstances.’

  Warren had seen no evidence of any abuse when he’d visited the night before, but he knew that they would need to be vigilant in future. A shock such as this could have devastating effects on a family’s dynamics; he made a note to ensure that the family liaison team were fully informed.

  ‘As to the kids, on paper Stevie was a farmhand, but he spent an awful lot of time driving around Middlesbury and the surrounding villages, visiting other local farms. He’s clearly got other money-making ventures on the side. We have our suspicions about what he’s up to, but we can’t be sure exactly what he’s doing.

  ‘The other four kids range from their eldest Lavender, who is forty, to their next youngest, also a daughter, Saffron, who is thirty-two. I’ll let you draw your own conclusions about what four kids in eight years, then a nine-year gap before Stevie came along suggests about his place in the pecking order. Between them are two more sons, including Patrick, usually known as Paddy, aged thirty-four and Frankie, his twin brother.’

  Warren reviewed his notes from the previous night. Lavender had not been present; however, he had briefly met Saffron and her husband, and both of the twins.

  Bergen was still speaking. ‘Paddy lives and works at the farm when he’s not inside for stealing; the bugger will nick anything. He also has two convictions for violent offences, both drink-related. He was convicted of affray six years ago and got away with a suspended sentence. A month after the suspension expired, he was involved in yet another pub fight. Witnesses claimed he had a knife, but he didn’t have one on him when he was arrested, and the CCTV angle was wrong. Unfortunately, Stevie Cullen, who was also present, managed to leave the scene without being searched; we suspect he took the knife with him.

  ‘Given that he didn’t use the knife and that nobody was seriously injured in the fisticuffs, the CPS dropped the more serious charges and again, he got a suspended sentence.’

  Warren made a note of the man’s details. Stevie Cullen had been killed by a stab wound. Could his brother be the killer?

  ‘What about Frankie?’ he asked. He remembered the man from his visit to the farm the previous night – it was hard to believe they were even brothers, let alone twins.

  ‘Frankie isn’t known to us officially. The family don’t like to speak about it, but my understanding is that he has some learning difficulties. He works on the farm, and apart from the odd trip with his brothers to the pub, isn’t really on our radar.’

  That certainly matched Warren’s impression of the man. Unlike the rest of the family, Frankie was huge. The man had remained seated and stared into space during the time that Warren was with the family, but it was clear to see from the length of his legs, the width of his shoulders and the size of his hands, that he dwarfed even Moray Ruskin.

  Warren made a note to find out more about this second brother. Learning difficulties could mean anything, and he’d need to know more before ruling him out as a suspect, although surely the masseuses would have mentioned the attacker’s exceptional size if Frankie was the killer?

  ‘What about the sisters?’ asked Hutchinson.

  It was a good question. Although the attacker was described as male, neither of the two masseuses had given a detailed description. A baggy hoodie could easily conceal a person’s figure. They could also be the driving force behind the attack, even if they weren’t the person wielding the knife.

  ‘Lavender, the eldest, lives a few miles away in Bishop’s Stortford. She’s married with two young children. She has a fairly close relationship with the rest of the family, but as far as we know runs a perfectly legitimate small business. Her husband also isn’t known to police, other than through his association with the Cullens.’

  It was still an avenue worth exploring, decided Warren.

  ‘The youngest daughter, Saffron, lives in a cottage on site with her husband and three toddlers. They are both farmhands, and Saffron also takes the family’s produce to market. She has no convictions, although the Food Standards Agency have taken an interest lately, after a wedding party she supplied came down with the shits.’

  Warren remembered meeting her: a slim woman, in loose clothing, she could probably be mistaken for a man, especially in such a stressful situation. For that matter, her husband was of average build also.

  ‘We know that the family employ a number of itinerant workers on their farm, particularly during the harvest season. We did a joint visit to the farm a couple of years ago with HMRC who are interested in the family’s tax affairs, but only found a couple of workers, all with valid National Insurance numbers. It’s bloody obvious that there are other, unregistered workers, probably working cash in hand, but there was no evidence and HMRC have bigger fish to fry.

  ‘All joking aside, we’ll be grateful for anything your team find out and we’ll support your investigation in any way that we can. We’ve been after the Cullens for years.’

  After a few more questions, Warren thanked Bergen for his time. In his experience, SOC tended to play their cards close to their chest, allowing CID to do all the hard work, before claiming all the credit. He’d said as much to Grayson before the briefing. Time would tell if Bergen’s words were more than just platitudes.

  ‘The killing of Stevie Cullen wasn’t some random act,’ said Warren. ‘It could well have been business-related, or the result of a family feud. I want to know where all of the family members were at the time of the killing and who he’s been doing business with. Jorge, I want you and Moray to start turning his life upside down. Work with DCI Bergen and his team in Welwyn.

  ‘Shaun, liaise with the Social Media Intelligence Unit. See if you can find us some more suspects to interview. I’d also like you and Rachel to keep on top of the mobile phone companies; they’ve been served with warrants and I want the call logs and GPS from everybody’s mobiles.’

  ‘I’ve arranged for the family to come to the station to give formal interviews starting at midday. If any of them were involved, I don’t want to give them too long to get their stories straight, so we’ll be interviewing them separately and simultaneously. But let’s be sensitive, people; regardless of our suspicions they’ve just suffered a bereavement and they are probably still in shock. Rachel, Mags and Hutch, I’ll split the interviewees between us, with a view to feeding back at evening briefing. Reconvene here at eleven to go over interview strategies.

  ‘DSI Grayson has arranged for uniform and non-uniform bodies from Welwyn to support us, so put them to work.’ He glanced at his watch. ‘The killing happened less than twenty-four hours ago. Let’s start rattling cages before the killer has time to cover his tracks. Feed everything back to Rachel so she can keep HOLMES up to date.’

  Dismissing the team, Warren headed back to his office. A moment later, there came a knock on the door: Shaun Grimshaw.

  ‘Can I have a quick word, Boss?’

  ‘Of course, Sha
un.’ Warren settled down in his chair.

  ‘I know all the social media stuff is important, but I wondered if I could join Jorge’s team investigating the Cullens? Jorge and me worked for months with Ian Bergen and his team when we were down in Welwyn. I’m familiar with a lot of the players and I can help bring the rest of the team up to speed.’

  Warren contemplated his request. Grimshaw and Martinez had transferred to Middlesbury earlier in the year. Both detective sergeants, the two men had worked together extensively before joining Warren’s team. By all accounts, their partnership had been forged from their earliest days in training college, when they’d bonded over a shared love of Manchester City Football Club. The two men had worked alongside each other as constables, before transferring to CID together. They’d taken their sergeant exams at the same time and were now both in the early stages of their inspector training.

  Their partnership had been effective over the years, and they were both ambitious and hardworking. Nevertheless, their close relationship had caused some disquiet. Dubbed the ‘Brown-nose Brothers’ by some, their ambition to get noticed was a source of some amusement, and occasional exasperation. The two had gained a reputation for hanging around in the lobby at headquarters so that they could catch the same elevator as more senior officers, ensuring that even as constables their names were known by those who mattered, and they were always the first to volunteer for high-profile roles in investigations.

  They had been assigned to Middlesbury to gain experience and fill a vacancy. With DI Tony Sutton on long-term sick leave, Grayson had agreed to take them on and allow them to start ‘acting up’, taking the lead in investigations and preparing for their next move. The close-knit structure of Middlesbury CID was an excellent place for them to stretch their wings.

 

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