‘Rumour has it that the entire flats complex is earmarked for demolition in the next couple of years. The council are gradually rehousing tenants and not filling the empty flats. Not before time if you ask me. It was the brainchild of some warped fifties architect, but for the people who have had to live here, this place has always been a dump.’
Danny looked around him. The sense of deprivation in the inner-city estate was everywhere. Litter blew along the stark, damp walkways. The stench of mould and rotting rubbish was everywhere. There wasn’t a wall that hadn’t been daubed with graffiti of some kind or another.
He shook his head slowly and said, ‘Let’s get this done. This place is the pits.’
‘This is Valley Walk. We want number twelve.’
Tina Prowse led the way onto the narrow walkway and began scanning the doors for number twelve.
Finding a red door with the number twelve painted on it in white emulsion, she said, ‘I think this is us.’
Danny stepped forward and saw that the base of the red door had been on fire at some stage and was charred and blackened.
He muttered, ‘Jesus Christ,’ and, using his clenched fist, hammered on the already damaged door.
There was no reply.
After continually banging for five minutes, Danny heard the next door along the walkway open. An elderly West Indian woman leaned around the door frame.
‘Who dat banging the place down at this time of day?’
Tina replied, ‘Sorry to disturb you. We’re looking for Tania. Is this the right flat?’
‘Who wanting to know?’
Tina took out her warrant card and said, ‘We’re police officers. We need to talk to Tania about her boy.’
‘I thought you looked like Babylon. That’s her flat alright, but you gonna need to bang harder to wake that girl. She been out all night working. If you know what I mean, Officer.’
‘Thanks.’
Danny began to knock on the door even louder, then lifted the letterbox and shouted, ‘Tania! It’s the police! Open the door; we need to speak to you about Evan! It’s important!’
A faint response came from within the decrepit flat: ‘Just a minute, I’m coming.’
Very slowly several bolts were drawn back, and the door was opened one inch.
‘Show me your warrant, or I ain’t letting you in.’
Danny wedged his foot in the small opening of the door to prevent it being slammed shut and said quietly, ‘Tania, open the door, please. I’m afraid I’ve got some bad news about Evan.’
Slowly the door was opened.
The three detectives walked into the flat and followed Tania Jenkins down the hallway into the small lounge. She was dressed in old pyjamas; her hair was dark and lank, her face greasy and her complexion the colour of uncooked pastry. A half-smoked, roll-up cigarette dangled from her mouth.
The flat was barely furnished. A heavily stained, dark-brown three-piece suite, a battered coffee table and a television in the corner made up the entire furniture in the front room. There was a large poster of Bob Marley on the wall above a two-bar gas fire. On the floor was a threadbare carpet covered in discarded, unwashed clothes and half-empty food cartons from the local takeaways. Stuffed in the corner, next to the stained settee, was an overflowing ashtray. Sitting to one side of the ashtray were a couple of used syringes. The room reeked of stale rotting food, and a pall of blue cigarette smoke hung in the air.
The flat was disgusting.
Danny looked at the woman and asked, ‘Tania Jenkins?’
‘Yes, I’m Tania. You said it wasn’t good news about my boy. What’s the little shit been up to now?’
‘I’m really sorry to have to tell you this, Tania … Evan is dead.’
‘What are you talking about, copper? He’s not dead, he’s just legged it from that poxy kids home again.’
Ignoring the overt aggression, Danny said quietly, ‘Tania, my name’s Danny Flint. I’m the chief inspector in charge of the Major Crime Investigation Unit. I’m sorry, but Evan was found dead yesterday in woods near Mansfield. He’d been murdered.’
The enormity of what she was being told slowly began to register.
Suddenly, Tania let out a long low moan that turned into a high-pitched scream of a single word, ‘Nooooo!’
Rachel stepped forward and put her arms around the distraught woman and eased her down until she was sitting on the settee.
After a couple of minutes, the sobbing stopped, and Tania looked up at Danny, ‘Who would do that to my lovely little boy?’
‘We don’t know yet, but we’ll find whoever did it. I promise you that.’
‘Can I see my beautiful boy?’
‘These two detectives will arrange that with you today. I wanted you to hear this directly from me, Tania. I want you to know you can call me, or any of the detectives trying to find the people who did this, at any time, night or day, okay?’
She nodded. ‘Did you say your name’s Flint?’
‘Yes, I did. Danny Flint. I’ll leave you with Sergeant Prowse and Detective Moore now. It might take us a long time, but I promise you we’ll find them.’
‘If you find them … it won’t bring my boy back, though, will it?’
‘No, it won’t, and I’m sorry I can’t do that.’
‘My boy was supposed to be in care, Mr Flint. They said I couldn’t look after him, and they took him away from me, and now he’s dead. It’s fucked up, that’s what it is.’
‘I know, Tania, and I’m sorry.’
Danny walked out of the small flat, followed by Tina. Rachel remained in the living room, trying to comfort the distraught mother.
Once outside, Danny said, ‘Take it slowly with her. Take as long as you need. It’s vitally important that we find out if she’s aware of any drug abuse involving Evan. I want you to ignore the evidence of drug abuse in the flat, the old syringes on the floor and anything else. We need to glean what we can from her without turning her against us. If you haven’t got time to see Evan’s social worker today, so be it. That enquiry will keep until tomorrow. You’d better get back in there with Rachel. I’ll find my own way back to the car.’
‘Okay, sir. We’ll contact you as soon as we leave here and let you know what Tania’s got to say.’
‘Thanks.’
Danny put both hands in his trouser pockets and walked off along the graffiti-stained walkway.
The words from Tania Jenkins were still ringing in his ears: He was supposed to be in care, and now he’s dead!
19
24 June 1986
Rampton Hospital, North Nottinghamshire
Jack Williams was puzzled.
It was nine thirty in the morning, and he’d just started his shift at Rampton Hospital. He had worked at the high-security hospital for three years now, and throughout that time had always worked with Fred Barnes.
Fred was quite a bit older than he was, but he was ex-military and a good laugh. More importantly, he took no shit from the nutters they had to look after. Fred was always quick to put them in their place and give them a slap. He called it a ‘corrector’. It was a part of the job Jack had come to enjoy, and he now regularly joined in with Fred when a prisoner needed putting in their place.
The prisoners never complained, and it was good fun sometimes letting them know who was in charge. The odd smack around the back of the heads of the lunatics they had to deal with every day wouldn’t hurt.
It never did them any harm.
Jack was puzzled because the ex-Guardsman had not turned up for his day shift. In all the years they had worked together, Fred Barnes had never missed a shift, and he’d seemed fine when he left work yesterday.
The last thing he’d said to Jack was that he was nipping to his local for a couple of beers to help him sleep.
It was what Fred always said. He was a creature of habit.
Jack decided that if he didn’t show up for work tomorrow morning, he would nip round after work to Fred’s house
in Retford and make sure he was okay.
He knew Fred had no family, so a quick visit to make sure he was okay was exactly what a good mate should do.
20
24 June 1986
Mansfield Police Station, Nottinghamshire
Detective Sergeant Andy Wills walked into the canteen situated at the rear of the police station. The smell of recently fried bacon and sausage was drifting along the corridor and had enticed a very hungry Andy into the canteen.
Because of the early start, he’d missed getting breakfast at home. He only had fifteen minutes in which he could get something to eat before he started his enquiries at the kids’ home in Bilsthorpe.
He smiled at the woman behind the counter and said, ‘I’d like one of your delicious bacon cobs and a large coffee, please, Gina.’
‘Do you want tomatoes on your bacon cob?’
‘Go on then, you’ve twisted my arm. I’d better grab a couple of napkins; I can’t walk round all day with tomato juice down my tie, now can I?’
‘God forbid. The smartest detective on the CID, with tomato juice on his tie, that would never do, Andy.’ Gina laughed.
She continued, ‘Grab a seat. I’ll bring your cob over in a minute.’
Andy smiled and said, ‘Thanks, Gina.’
As soon as he sat down, he saw a uniform officer walk in for his refreshment break. Andy recognised the officer; PC Dave Bracewell worked the rural mobile patrol that covered Bilsthorpe.
The constable ordered his breakfast and then sat down at the same table as Andy.
‘Morning, Sarge, are you working on the murder of that kid who absconded from Tall Trees?’
Andy nodded and said, ‘Yeah. You work that area, don’t you, Dave?’
‘It was me who took the missing persons report for Jenkins when he ran off this time.’
‘Has anyone from our office spoken to you yet?’
‘No, not yet. Today’s my first shift back. I’ve been away on holiday. I only found out the kid was dead when I came on duty this morning.’
Gina arrived at the side of the table, carrying Andy’s bacon and tomato cob and a mug of coffee.
She put the plate and the mug in front of Andy and said, ‘There you go, Detective. Enjoy. Your breakfast will be ready in a couple of minutes, Dave.’
Andy said, ‘Thanks, Gina.’
Dave nodded in acknowledgement and then said, ‘I won’t disturb your breakfast, Sarge.’
Andy picked up his cob, but before he took a bite, he said, ‘Dave, come and see me in our office when you’ve had your breakfast. We’ll have a quick chat, okay.’
‘Okay, Sarge, will do.’
Andy devoured his cob and stood up. He shouted to Gina, ‘Okay if I take the mug with me, Gina?’
‘No problem. Can you bring it back when you get a minute, please?’
Andy looked at Dave, who was wading his way through a huge full English.
‘Don’t forget to come and see me when you’ve finished that.’
With a mouth half full of sausage, Dave nodded and said, ‘I’ll only be ten minutes, Sarge.’
About fifteen minutes later, Dave Bracewell walked into the Major Crime Investigation Unit offices.
He looked around the office, seeking out Andy Wills. He saw the sergeant sitting at a desk near the windows.
‘Right, Sarge, what do you want to know?’
‘Grab a seat.’
Dave sat down opposite.
‘How long have you worked out at Bilsthorpe?’
‘For the last three years, off and on.’
‘So you must get up to Tall Trees quite a bit, then?’
‘Way too much for my liking. The kids there are always bloody running off.’
‘Has it got better or worse recently?’
‘We do seem to have to go up there more and more.’
‘What reasons do the kids give for running off when you take them back?’
‘It’s a job to get anything out of the little bleeders. They don’t want to know, do they? Every time I go up there, they make pig noises at me. They never say much to me when I take them back.’
‘What about Evan Jenkins?’
‘This was the first time I’d taken a misper report about him. Caroline said he was always running off; she was surprised I didn’t know his name.’
‘Caroline?’
‘Caroline Short, the matron at the home. I took the report of Evan Jenkins absconding from her.’
‘Is that usual?’
‘I wouldn’t say it was usual, especially on nights. It’s usually a member of staff, but sometimes it’s Caroline who sees you and makes out the report.’
‘That’s twice you’ve called her Caroline and not “the matron” or Mrs Short. Do you get on well with her?’
‘Yeah, Caroline’s great. Not like some of the staff up there, who can be a real pain in the arse. She’s made a big difference since she started there.’
‘How long’s she been in charge?’
‘I’m not sure. A couple of years, maybe.’
‘Getting back to when you took the misper report for Evan Jenkins that night, was there anything out of the ordinary with the report?’
‘Not with the report; that was standard stuff. I do remember something strange that happened as I was coming out of the home though. It came to me this morning when I found out that Jenkins had been killed. It didn’t seem to matter at the time.’
‘What was that?’
‘One of the kids was on the landing as I walked out. He whispered something that I just dismissed at the time, but like I say, it now seems very relevant.’
‘What did the kid say?’
‘He just whispered that Jenkins wouldn’t be back.’
‘What do you think he meant?’
‘I don’t know, but bearing in mind what’s happened to the kid, you’ve got to agree it’s pretty weird.’
‘Do you know which kid it was who made the comment?’
‘Yeah, it’s another one who’s always legging it. A lad called Tommy Quinn.’
‘Are you doing much this morning?’
‘Only routine patrol, why?’
‘Who’s your sergeant?’
‘Sergeant Davies.’
‘I’ll talk to her and see if I can take you off patrol. I want you to come with me and talk to Tommy Quinn.’
‘Well, if you can swing it with the sarge, that’s fine by me.’
Andy looked up from his desk and saw Brian Hopkirk across the other side of the office. He knew the detective inspector was co-ordinating the interviews with residents and staff at Tall Trees Children’s Home that morning.
He walked over and said, ‘Boss, who’s down to interview Tommy Quinn at Tall Trees this morning?’
The inspector glanced down at a sheet of paper on the desk. ‘Lyn Harris and Simon Paine. They’re down to interview him and another lad, Freddie Williams, why?’
‘I’m going over to Tall Trees in a minute with PC Bracewell. We need to talk to Tommy Quinn about something he said to Dave on the night Evan Jenkins went missing.’
‘No problem. Lyn and Simon are due to talk to Williams first, so I doubt they will have got to Quinn yet. With my compliments, tell them that after they’ve finished with Freddie Williams, they’re to interview Mrs Hilda Smith, one of the staff. I’ll change the list so you can speak to Quinn instead of Hilda Smith.’
‘Thanks, boss.’
‘What was said by Quinn that’s got you so fired up, Andy?’
‘He told PC Bracewell that Jenkins wouldn’t be back.’
21
24 June 1986
South Lodge, Retford
Jimmy Wade stood by the door of the stone outbuilding and giggled quietly.
At his side, as always, was Melissa Braithwaite. She was shivering, even though the temperature was rising steadily. She felt sore and bruised after her night of rough sex with Wade. On the way back from abducting the male nurse at Retford, he’d made her st
op the van. He’d then pushed her out of the driver’s seat and forced her to have sex pressed against the side of the van. As Wade raped her, she could hear the moans of the bound nurse secured in the back of the vehicle.
When they finally arrived back at the lodge, Wade had carried the now unconscious, male nurse from the back of the van and into the outbuilding. He had then stripped him and manacled him to the wall, leaving him naked and chained.
Braithwaite had watched in silence, fearing what was going to happen next. Her worst fears had then materialised. Aroused by the capture of his tormentor, Wade had then dragged her into the bedroom and raped her several times overnight. She had developed her own coping strategy and pretended to enjoy the rough sex. She knew if she tried to resist or complain, it would only get worse.
She hadn’t seen Wade this aroused for a long time, and she dreaded what today was going to bring.
Wade smiled at her and said, ‘We’re going to have some real fun today. I’ve been thinking about it all night. I don’t want Barnes to know it’s me who’s got him yet. I want you to go inside and just listen to what he’s got to say. Don’t speak to him. Don’t say a word; just stare at him and let him ramble on. I’m going to watch through the little window.’
‘Okay.’ Melissa started to walk towards the door.
‘Wait a minute. Come here.’
She stopped and walked the couple of steps back towards Wade.
He ripped her white cotton blouse, leaving her breasts exposed.
He laughed and said, ‘That’s better. Let’s see what Barnes makes of that.’
Almost trancelike, she turned once again and walked towards the heavy wooden door. Using the key Wade had given her, she unlocked the big padlock that secured the door, leaving the key in the lock.
She opened the door and stepped inside, leaving it slightly ajar to allow a little light into the small space.
Instantly she recoiled at the smell. Barnes had soiled himself overnight, and the stench of human faeces was almost overpowering. Fearing what Wade would do if she stepped back out of the room, she steeled herself and stepped inside fully.
A Cold Grave: A DCI Danny Flint Book Page 8