by Alan Fisher
The second picture showed Robertson fishing in a river. Three men were nearby, all also fishing and focused on the river rather than on the judge. Again it looked like an official gathering, perhaps even a competition of some kind. Oliver didn’t know the place in the photograph and wondered why he had felt the need to select the picture. It was possible the judge didn’t even know the others in the photo.
The third photograph was more interesting. There were five men and a woman in the photo. Justice Robertson was in the forefront and partially obscuring the face of the man nearest to him. Two other men had their backs to the photographer, either deliberately or otherwise; and a fifth man could be seen in the corner, but his face was obscured by the arm of the judge. The woman was pouring a drink from what looked like a bottle of red wine into a large glass situated on a table in the centre of the room. Oliver could only make out the corner of the table because the rest of the table was obscured by one of the men with his back to the camera. This photograph looked like it had been taken in a private room. Perhaps someone’s home, or a function room in a hotel. It was fairly dimly lit, unlike the photographs of the man in bow ties.
This was the one that felt right, the one that had something in it. But he’d admitted when he’d drank the last of his coffee, that he couldn’t see it, not yet anyway. Reluctantly he tidied away his dishes, grabbed his coat and the three photographs and headed into work.
He was relieved when he walked into the main office at headquarters to see that Jason Glover was not at his desk.
“He’s out” said Debbie without being asked, “gone off to Durham somewhere and taken Alan with him. You wouldn’t believe it would you. Alan’s been back less than a bloody day and he’s been hauled off on some hunt for something down in Durham. You’d have thought the DS would at least give us a chance to say hello to him before he dragged him off”.
“Hi Debbie, what’s got up your nose this morning? As if I need to ask”.
“Bloody DS Glover” she exclaimed rather too loudly, “that’s what”.
“All right, keep your voice down” said Oliver quietly, “the DCI’s door is open”.
“I know, but he’s out as well. Alan and I were due to continue digging into Justice Robertson’s financial affairs this morning. We’ve only just scratched the surface and Alan tells me last night that he’s being dragged off to Durham today to help Glover out with something and I’m left to get through this lot” she said pointing to a pile of papers.
“I’m sure he didn’t say dragged” smiled Oliver.
“That’s not the point. The point is he was brought in to help with the workload and he’s not here. I don’t suppose you’ve any idea what they’re up to”.
“I think they might be off chasing a wild goose”.
“Really? I don’t know whether to be pleased or annoyed”.
“I thought we’d established how you’re feeling already” he laughed as he wondered across to his desk and put the three photographs down before slipping off his coat.
But Debbie was two steps behind him, clearly not letting go of her annoyance, just yet.
“So they’re wasting their time then?”
Oliver thought about the observation for a few seconds.
“No, maybe I was a little unjust in that statement. DS Glover is chasing a decent lead with, admittedly, strong possibilities. Of course it’s the right move for him to make and it is supported by the DCI”.
“But you think it’ll come to nothing” she declared, as if reading his thoughts.
“I didn’t say that. It may well come to something”.
“But not the killer?”
“I don’t know. I understand why it needs to be looked into, but let’s just say I have some doubts”
“It doesn’t feel right does it?” she asked feeling much calmer.
“Nope. I can’t explain why, so don’t ask. It’s just that I don’t think it fits in very easily with the rest of what we know”.
“Do you want to spend some more time doing that thing that you do”.
Oliver looked at her, totally confused as to what she was on about.
“Don’t look at me like that” she said.
“Sorry Debbie, I have no idea what you’re on about”.
Debbie looked at him, then, without taking her eyes away, shouted across the room to Paul Moore who was drinking coffee at his desk.
“Paul? What’s that thing that Oliver does?”
“You mean the one where he has no idea what’s going on and stands for hours staring at the information on the incident board and cracks the whole case wide open?”
“Yeah, that’s the one”.
“It’s not like that, you make it sound like I’m some sort of freak, or genius. Neither is even close to the truth” said Oliver sheepishly.
“I agree, it’s neither. It just means you have an extremely analytical mind that is able to sort out the irrelevant stuff from the critical stuff. Then you piece it together and point us all in the right direction. Just like you did with me the other day when looking at those text messages. Others can do it too, just nowhere near as quickly as you do. So I suggest, DC Cole, if you think DS Glover is heading in the wrong direction on this case, go and stare at the board until you find the right one”.
“I can’t, not yet anyway. I brought these photographs back from Justice Robertson’s house to look at. I think there’s something important in there, but I can’t see what it is, and the DCI is expecting something. Where is he anyway?”
“He’s with Superintendent Fox, has been for a while now. Look, why don’t I help you with the photographs, maybe we can find something between us”.
“What about Robertson’s financials?”
“They’ll keep, go grab some coffee and we’ll crack on. The sooner you clear this and we get you to the incident boards the better”.
Although Oliver felt like he was being ordered what to do, he appreciated the offer of help. He hadn’t managed anything so far working on his own, maybe Debbie would see something he hadn’t. He wandered off in the direction of the canteen thinking that perhaps there was something to this teamwork thing that Jack had insisted on after all.
Chapter 34
When Jason Glover arrived at Durham Council Offices on Friday morning he was pleased to see that Alan Cuthbert was already standing on the doorstep waiting for him. The rain that had started during the night was still fairly heavy and Jason noticed that Alan had positioned himself in one of the few places outside the main doors where the overhang kept him at least a little dry. He locked his car and took the steps two at a time to meet with Alan.
“Morning Cuthbert, I hope I haven’t kept you waiting too long” said Jason as he reached the top of the steps.
“Morning sir, I’ve only been here a couple of minutes” lied Alan, not wishing to let Jason know he’d been waiting for almost half an hour.
“Right then, we’ve a lot to get through today. I really want to try to see if there’s any merit in the information I’ve been given by the end of the day. I don’t want this dragging over into next week unless there’s something material to warrant it” said Jason as he opened the door and entered the reception area inside.
He crossed the reception area to the long desk situated along the back wall where at least five receptionists appeared to be on duty, A couple of the receptionists were already in conversation with an elderly man and what looked like a young female student as Jason approached the desk. A third was on the phone, but the fourth receptionist, a young well-dressed girl in a dark blue jacket with her name, Ruby, emblazoned across a large gold-coloured badge on her lapel moved along the counter to greet them.
“Good morning” she said politely, “how can I help?”
Jason took out his warrant card and moved forward to the counter, keeping his voice as quiet as was possible.
“DS Glover and DC Cuthbert, Northumbria Police. I’ve an appointment with John Latimer, the Chief Planning Offic
er. Would you let him know I’m here please?”
The lack of any reaction on Ruby’s face or in her demeaner made Jason wonder briefly if a visit from the police was an everyday occurrence at the Council Offices. However, Ruby simply picked up the phone and waited a few seconds for someone to answer.
“Mr Latimer, I have a DS Glover and a DC Cuthbert here to see you, they say they have an appointment with you?”
The message was clearly understood as she put the phone down within a few seconds.
“He’ll be right down, please take a seat” she said pointing to three rows of seats off to the left.
“Thank you” said Jason, and he wandered off in the direction of the seats.
Alan followed him and took the first empty seat, but Jason remained standing.
Five minutes later a tall grey-haired man in his late forties wearing a dark blue suit and a red striped tie came out of a door opposite, heading straight for Jason.
“DS Glover?” he asked with hand outstretched. “John Latimer, Chief Planning Officer, please follow me”.
Jason shook his hand out of politeness and followed him across the reception. He led them back to the door that he’d come from and swiped the pass-key around his neck on the locking device and opened the door for them. They wandered up the next staircase and along a short corridor to a small well lit room half filled with a selection of tables, chairs, overhead projector screens and wipe boards, clearly a spare room usually used as a small conference or meeting room.
“Please” said John, pointing to the seats under the large rain soaked windows.
He pulled out a chair himself as Jason and Alan took off their coats, placed them on a nearby table and sat opposite him on the other side of the large rectangular table.
“I’ll arrange some refreshments for you in a moment” said John, having decided that the officers were clearly intent on staying for a while. “What brings you to Durham DS Glover, and how can I help you?”
“We’re investigating two murders Mr Latimer, I’m sure you’ll have seen reports about them in the press and on the television. As a result of one of our lines of enquiries we need to look at some historical information which may, or may not, be connected to the case” said Jason, trying to choose his words very carefully.
“I see. And you believe we may have some information that might be of value?”
“Yes, and I cannot emphasis how important it is that our enquiries remain discreet. I would appreciate it if we could be given access to certain historical documents and that the number of people assisting us with our requests is kept as small as possible”.
“That might be possible if you give me some indication as to which records you wish to examine. I assume, because you’ve asked to see me, that it must have something to do with planning consent but depending on what you mean by historic, we could be talking manual records rather than computer access”.
“Of course. The records we wish to examine cover a five year period from April 1990 to March 1995. We need to go through every application for planning permission on vacant or derelict land within your County boundaries”.
“That’s potentially a rather large number of applications, a lot of building work went on in the early 90’s. Before my time of course, but it’s well known that a fair few housing estates and out of town shopping facilities started around that time. The records will be manual of course. I’ll need to get someone to access them for you and bring them here for you to examine. Discretion can be maintained, I have just the man for the job. Now,” said John as he got up out of his seat. “I’ll arrange some refreshments for you and get started. My telephone extension is 2722, just use the phone in the corner if you need me, toilets are at the end of the corridor to the left. It’ll take Tony about twenty minutes or so to bring the first years’ records up to you. Tony is the sole of discretion; you can trust him DS Glover. In the meantime, make yourself as comfortable as you can, and I’ll book this room out for the rest of the day. I think you’ll need at least that”.
Fifteen minutes later an elderly lady dressed in a deep pink canteen coat, wheeled in a trolley with a tray of cups and saucers, pots of coffee, and two plates of biscuits on it. She said little more than a good morning before she emptied her trolley onto one of the nearby tables and headed back, presumably in the direction of the canteen.
Another fifteen minutes after that, “Tony” came into the room pushing a slightly larger and more robust trolley, stacked high with lever-arch files and assorted folders.
“I thought Mr Latimer said you’d only be able to bring the first years records” said Jason.
“This is the first year” said Tony, “April 1990 to March 1991 Applications for Planning Permission. I’ll bring the second year in a while, probably about half an hour or so”.
Jason looked at Alan Cuthbert as Tony deposited the files onto the desk in front of them and wheeled his trolley out of the room.
“Right then, I suppose I’d better explain to you what exactly we’re looking for. Grab the first of those files and we’ll make a start”.
Chapter 35
Friday lunchtime arrived and Jack’s office door was still wide open with no sign of the DCI’s return. Oliver and Debbie had spent the rest of the morning looking in vane at the three photographs that were causing Oliver so much concern, but without any plausible results.
They decided to take a break and head off for lunch. Even though they’d found nothing, the conversation continued whilst they were enjoying a welcome break with a sandwich and a hot cup of coffee.
“I think we can definitely rule out two of the photographs” said Debbie when she finished the last bite of her bacon and salad baguette. “The photo of the judge fishing looks like he’s taking part in a competition, I doubt he even knew the others in the shot and it’s extremely unlikely that they would all be interested in fishing and be involved in some consortium or other. The one of the group all wearing bow ties is some sort of legal event, I recognize Judge Rowntree from a case I was involved in four years ago. He looks a little younger in the photo but it’s definitely him”.
“Which leaves one, and it’s the one that kept me awake last night. And just because DS Glover is looking at a consortium doesn’t mean I am. I have no idea what I’m looking for” Oliver admitted.
“What made you pick it out in the first place then, from what must have been quite a few I would guess?”
“I know it sounds stupid, but I really don’t have a clue. I was just walking along the hall looking at all the pictures and something just said to me there’s something there. Something I need to see”.
“Probably your subconscious”.
“Come again”.
“Apparently our eyes recognise something and can sometimes send a message to our subconscious. Later we have no idea why we did something, or why something feels as if it’s stuck in the memory, but the message was already imbedded”.
“And what does all that mean exactly?” he said, opening his pot of strawberry yoghurt.
“It means that you may well have spotted something but what it was didn’t register at the time. Maybe you were so focused on something else, you missed the message, or at least your conscious mind did”.
“So how do I get this message then, the one I supposedly missed?”
“I’ve no idea”.
“Thanks Debbie, that’s really helpful” he said with a touch of exasperation.
“Sorry” she laughed. “It’s just something I read somewhere. An article I think, it said that whatever it is can be triggered by something or just pop back in when you least expect it. Apparently, the worst thing you can do is think too much about it”.
“Seriously? So why have we spent the best part of the morning going over and over it again then?”
“I wasn’t thinking about the subconscious then. Look, here’s Robbie and he looks a bit flustered”.
Robbie Wainwright had entered the canteen and was scanning around the r
oom, clearly looking for something, or someone. Debbie waved and he immediately weaved through the tables to join them.
“Hey Robbie” said Debbie as he arrived at the table, “How’s it going?”
“Great thanks. Have either of you seen the DCI this morning?”
“Not since first thing” said Debbie, “why, something happened?”
“Just a bit, we’ve found it”.
“Found what?” asked Oliver.
“The hotel where Robertson was murdered. Me and Kevin, the new guy, have been ringing round taxi companies to see if we could find out which one Robertson used; and hotel after hotel to see if any of them is missing a rug from one of their rooms. We got a hit on a hotel with a missing rug, Lumley Castle Hotel near Chester-Le-Street. It looks very promising and I thought the DCI would want to know sharpish like”.
“Brilliant, well done mate” said Oliver, genuinely pleased for his colleague.
“Yeah, well done Robbie. The last I heard about the DCI he was going to brief Superintendent Fox on something. As far as I know, he’s still there. But it’s been a while”.
“I think he’ll want to know; do you think I should interrupt them if he’s still in there?”
“If he’s still in there after this length of time, I imagine he’ll be more than happy to be interrupted mate. I would get straight along if I were you” said Oliver.
“Right, will do. See you later”.
And Robbie was gone before either of them could speak.
“Is he……?” asked Oliver.
“Of course he is, he trusts your judgement. If Oliver says it’ll be fine, it usually is. Now, let’s get back to the office. I need to finish those financials and I still have work to do on tracing all those people who are called Donna Yates. Maybe you should take your mind off the photo and have a look at the board. See if anything else jumps out at you”.