A Cold Grave: A DCI Danny Flint Book

by Negus, Trevor

  He picked it up. ‘DCI Flint.’

  ‘Sir, it’s Sergeant Leigh on the front desk. You’ve got a visitor.’

  ‘Don’t tell me: Bethany Jones.’

  Leigh chuckled and said, ‘Correct. Your psychic powers are definitely improving, sir.’

  ‘I’ll come down. Take her into one of the interview rooms, please.’

  ‘Will do.’

  Danny put his suit jacket back on, grabbed his blue case book and left the office.

  Rob Buxton was just walking into the briefing room. He saw Danny and said, ‘Going somewhere, boss?’

  ‘Evan Jenkins’s social worker, Bethany Jones, is here to see me. Keep your jacket on; you can come downstairs and hear what she’s got to say as well.’

  ‘A social worker out and about at six o’ clock in the morning? That’s never been heard of.’

  Danny grinned at the feeble attempt at humour. ‘It gets better. She was phoning me at ten o’clock last night, telling me she had information about Evan Jenkins. She even asked me to confirm whether he was the dead child referred to in the news bulletin.’

  ‘Like that kind of information is ever going to be confirmed over the phone.’

  ‘Exactly. I told her, if it was that urgent, she could come in and see me at six o’clock today.’

  ‘And here she is, boss, right on time.’

  The two detectives found Sergeant Leigh, and he showed them into the interview room where the social worker was waiting.

  Bethany Jones was an Afro-Caribbean woman, in her mid- to late thirties. She was quite plump and had an open, friendly face. Her hair was fixed in neat cornrows, and she wore a very smart, navy-blue two-piece business suit.

  As the two men walked into the interview room, she stood up.

  Danny extended a hand, smiled and said, ‘Good morning, Ms Jones, I’m Detective Chief Inspector Flint. I hope you understand why I couldn’t tell you anything last night, and that I wasn’t being deliberately obstructive.’

  She smiled and said, ‘It’s Bethany. My mother’s Ms Jones. I understand, Detective, and I know I shouldn’t have phoned you. I was just shaken up when I realised that the dead child could be Evan.’

  Danny gestured for her to sit back down and said, ‘Bethany, it’s bad news, I’m afraid. Your instincts were correct; the dead child I was referring to is Evan Jenkins. As I said on the news last night, we’re treating his death as suspicious and have launched a murder enquiry.’

  She looked down at the floor and then back up at Danny. He could see tears welling in her large brown eyes.

  Danny said nothing more and waited for her to compose herself.

  Bethany Jones brushed a tear from her cheek and said, ‘I’m sorry. Can you give me a minute, please?’

  Danny said quietly, ‘Take as long as you need.’

  Finally, she took a deep breath and said, ‘I’d arranged to meet Evan on the sixth of June to talk over a few things, but he never showed up. When I contacted Tall Trees and spoke to that woman, she told me Evan had absconded again. She promised to let me know when he came back. I take it she knows he’s dead?’

  ‘Sorry, Bethany. When you say “that woman”, who exactly are you referring to?’

  ‘Caroline Short, the matron at Tall Trees.’

  ‘Caroline Short was informed two days ago.’

  ‘You see what I mean? That bloody woman. Why didn’t she tell me straight away?’

  Rob Buxton said, ‘I’m sorry, Bethany; I’m not sure of all your protocols. Is she obliged to tell you, or should she leave that to us?’

  ‘I guess you’re right, Inspector. I suppose it is down to the police to inform me. You’ve got to realise that this has been a major shock for me, and I’m bloody angry.’

  Danny said gently, ‘It’s obviously come as a huge shock, Bethany. Can we get you a drink of tea or coffee? You’ve obviously got something you need to tell us; it might help us all if we have a minute and then discuss whatever that may be.’

  ‘Thank you, Chief Inspector. I would really love a coffee, please.’

  ‘Please, call me Danny. Rob, would you do the honours and make us all a coffee, please? How do you take it, Bethany?’

  ‘White, two sugars. Thanks.’

  Rob stood and left the room, returning five minutes later with a tray containing three mugs of coffee. He set them down on the table, handed Bethany her mug and sat down.

  Danny said, ‘Okay, Bethany. What’s this information you want to share with us?’

  She took a sip of the hot coffee and said, ‘The meeting I was due to have with Evan was about getting him placed in a different care home.’

  ‘Why did you think that was necessary?’

  ‘Ever since he was placed in Tall Trees, at every opportunity, Evan would abscond and return to Nottingham. At first, I thought he was just homesick and that he would settle down. That never happened. Every other week, he would run off again and be found hanging around the streets of Hyson Green.’

  ‘Most of the kids in residential care homes abscond at some time.’

  ‘That’s true, but this was constant. I formed the opinion that he wasn’t running to get back to something, but rather running away from something.’

  ‘Did you talk to him about it?’

  ‘Of course I did. Evan was a very shy, timid kid who was always reluctant to talk.’

  Rob said, ‘That’s a hugely different picture of Evan than the one we’re currently being provided with.’

  ‘What do you mean, Detective?’

  ‘The information we’re getting about Evan is that he was on the cusp of being a full-time rent boy who was quite willing to sell his body to men so that he could pay for his class A drug addiction.’

  With an incredulous look on her face, Bethany Jones exclaimed, ‘What!’

  Rob continued, ‘I can see by your reaction that doesn’t sit right with you, Bethany. Is our information wrong?’

  ‘I’m sorry. Your so-called information couldn’t be any more wrong, Detective!’

  Danny interjected, ‘Why don’t you tell me about Evan?’

  ‘I will. First, I want to know where you heard that crock of shit. Cos I’ve already got a good idea!’

  Danny recognised the social worker’s rising temper and said calmly, ‘At the moment we’ve only spoken to Evan’s mum, the staff and residents at Tall Trees.’

  ‘I knew it. That bullshit’s come from Caroline Short, hasn’t it?’

  Danny ignored the question. ‘Tell me about Evan. Why was he taken into care in the first place?’

  ‘Rather ironically, in view of what’s happened, it was for his own protection.’

  ‘I’ve been to Valley Walk, and I’ve met Tania,’ said Danny quickly.

  ‘Well, in that case, you’ll understand some of the reasons. His mother, Tania, is a good woman, but she has serious self-esteem problems. Unfortunately, these problems manifest themselves in addiction. Tania’s a heroin abuser and constantly has class A drugs at her home, which she injects. As a result of her habit, the house is generally littered with used needles. She has no income other than benefits. So to fund her habit, she works the streets around Forest Road as a prostitute. Quite regularly, she will take punters back to the family home. So, you see, from an incredibly young age, Evan has been exposed to all sorts of risks. He has constantly faced the danger of controlled drugs and strangers in the family home.’

  ‘Who made the decision for a care order?’

  ‘I submitted the care order and placed it before the court. It was upheld, and Evan was subsequently taken into care. I’ve worked bloody hard ever since to try to help Tania through her issues. Unfortunately, I don’t see her changing her lifestyle anytime soon.’

  ‘When you spoke to Evan the last time, what did he tell you that made you consider switching his care home?’

  ‘Evan never said anything to me directly. Like most kids, he constantly dropped hints. There was never anything concrete to take further.’<
br />
  Rob said, ‘Well, what did he hint at?’

  ‘He made insinuations that everything was not as it should be at Tall Trees.’

  Rob leaned forward and made eye contact with the social worker. ‘Come on, Bethany, stop beating around the bush. What insinuations?’

  ‘He made suggestions that Bill Short sometimes acted inappropriately towards him and the other boys.’

  ‘What exactly do you mean? You’ve got to give us some specifics.’

  ‘This is the problem, Detective. There never were any specifics. Evan told me he felt uncomfortable around Bill Short and hated being left alone with him. He told me all the other kids felt that way, too.’

  Danny said, ‘What did you do about it?’

  ‘Without a specific allegation, there was nothing I could do. I spoke to my bosses, and they fobbed me off, saying Evan was a fantasist. I do blame myself though; I shouldn’t have let them deter me. I knew Evan, and he was a good kid. When I said earlier that you couldn’t have been further off the mark with your description of him, I genuinely meant it. He was a lovely, quiet boy. In any other home environment, he would have shone. He was an intelligent, articulate boy who never got into any trouble.’

  ‘Why would he be described to us as the polar opposite?’

  ‘Come on, Danny, you’re the detective. I would suggest it was done in some ill-conceived, feeble attempt to deflect you from where you should be looking.’

  ‘Tall Trees Children’s Home?’

  ‘Exactly. One other thing you should know. When I began having genuine concerns about the regime at Tall Trees, I started doing a bit of digging into Caroline and Bill Short. They came to Nottinghamshire from Cornwall almost two years ago. I contacted the local authority down there, and it appears that they both left under a bit of a cloud from their last employment.’

  ‘What were they doing in Cornwall?’

  ‘The same as here. Running a local authority care home.’

  ‘Did you find out why they had left that employment?’

  ‘They wouldn’t disclose anything to me. They’re not obliged to, so they didn’t. The woman I spoke to would only say that the Shorts would never again be employed in a similar position in their region.’

  Rob said, ‘That’s ludicrous. Why can’t they disclose that information?’

  ‘I didn’t say couldn’t, I said wouldn’t. They’re not obliged to, so they don’t.’

  ‘Bethany, before you leave today, I’d like you to sit down with Rob and provide him with all the details of the people you’ve spoken to in Cornwall. We’ll look deeper into that and all their previous employment history. Is there anything else Evan disclosed to you that we should know about?’

  ‘Like I said, it was never anything he said. Behaviourally, though, there was a massive change in him. He went from being the likeable, intelligent kid I spoke about earlier to being a sullen, withdrawn, sulky brat who couldn’t be bothered to utter a word to you in conversation. Something or someone at Tall Trees changed that little boy.’

  ‘Thanks for coming in so early, Bethany. Are you okay for time this morning? I’d like you to sit and talk this all through with Rob.’

  ‘I’ve got all the time in the world, Danny, and thanks for listening.’

  32

  25 June 1986

  Marsh Lane, Dunham, Nottinghamshire

  Wally Hastings walked slowly up the path to the cottage.

  He was feeling every day of his sixty-three years today. He was tired, his feet hurt, and his back ached under the weight of all the mail in his sack.

  One more bloody year and he could retire.

  Wally couldn’t wait for retirement. It couldn’t come fast enough, as far as he was concerned. He was sick of the early mornings. The only thing about working for the post office he would miss would be the conversations he had with people on his round. Ever since his wife died, he had lived alone, so there was never any possibility of a conversation at home. The brief chats he had with his customers were like getting small glimpses into other people’s lives. Wally relished talking to people.

  As he approached the cottage, the elderly postman noticed that the front door was wide open, and the hall light was still on. It was all very strange. It had been daylight for some time now.

  He looked down at the name on the envelope, Jack Williams.

  As soon as he saw the name on any envelope, he could instantly put a face to the name.

  Jack Williams. Young, dark haired, good-looking chap. Always friendly, and mad keen on football.

  He knocked on the front door, ready for a chat.

  There was no reply, so he shouted, ‘Post, Mr Williams!’

  Still no reply.

  Feeling slightly disappointed that he’d missed out on the chance to talk to someone, he threw the bundle of letters onto the floor of the hallway. He got the next bundle out from the mail sack that was biting into his right shoulder. He saw the next delivery was for the detached house further along Marsh Lane. A two-hundred-yard walk.

  Marsh Lane was a dead end. He groaned inwardly when he realised that he would have to walk two hundred yards there and then another two hundred back, carrying the hefty sack. Four hundred yards, just to post two letters.

  ‘Fuck that!’ he said aloud.

  Wally put the heavy bag down on the ground, just inside the gate of the cottage. He started to walk off down Marsh Lane, carrying just the two letters. If he got caught leaving the mail unattended, he would be for the high jump.

  He didn’t care; it would be fine. It would only take him five minutes. It was far better than carrying the heavy sack all the way down the bloody lane and back.

  Having delivered the two letters, he made his way back to the cottage where Jack Williams lived.

  As he retrieved his mail sack, he was surprised to see the front door was still wide open.

  He walked up the path and shouted inside: ‘Is everything okay in there, Mr Williams?’

  The letters he’d delivered were still lying untouched on the floor.

  A growing sense of unease came over the elderly postman.

  He took the decision to step inside the house and see for himself. He just wanted to make sure everything was okay.

  He found the living room light still on as well, and the television blaring away to itself. He could see the remains of a cigarette that had been allowed to burn completely out. It had left a four-inch line of ash in the ashtray.

  Something was definitely wrong; he could feel it.

  Tentatively, he made his way through the house, checking every room.

  It was like the Mary Celeste.

  There wasn’t a trace of anyone. The house had been abandoned.

  Nobody in their right mind would go out and leave the front door wide open, as well as leaving the lights and television on.

  He went back downstairs to the hallway and picked up the telephone.

  He dialled three nines and said, ‘Police, please.’

  The operator put him through, and when a police officer came on the line, he said, ‘My name’s Wally Hastings. I’m a postman making deliveries on Marsh Lane at Dunham, not far from the bridge. I’m at a house that’s been left with the front door wide open. It looks like it’s been abandoned; something’s not right. Could you send someone out, please?’

  There was a pause, and then Wally said, ‘Yeah, that’s fine. I’ll wait here until they get here. Thanks.’

  Wally walked back down the path and retrieved his mail bag.

  He returned to the cottage. He was relieved to have an excuse to sit down for a moment. With a loud sigh, he sat down on the stairs in the hallway of the cottage.

  He settled down, made himself comfortable, and waited for the police to arrive.

  33

  25 June 1986

  Mansfield Police Station, Nottinghamshire

  From his office, Danny saw Tina Prowse and Rachel Moore arrive for work. Not wasting any time, he opened the door and said, ‘Rach
el, Tina, I need a quick word.’

  The two women walked into the office.

  Danny said, ‘Close the door and take a seat.’

  When they had sat down, Danny continued, ‘I’m taking you two off the Evan Jenkins enquiry. I want you to start looking into the escape of Jimmy Wade again. I’m conscious that enquiries into the escape have been put on hold since the murder of Evan Jenkins. I need two of my best people to kick-start the enquiries up at Rampton.’

  Tina said, ‘What about the social worker, Bethany Jones? We’re due to see her today as a priority enquiry.’

  ‘Bethany Jones came into the police station first thing this morning. DI Buxton is still talking to her, downstairs in an interview room.’

  ‘Okay, sir. When do you want us to start on the Wade enquiries?’

  ‘There’s no time like the present. I’ve just taken an interesting phone call from the uniform inspector who covers the area around Dunham Bridge. He’s informed me that one of his officers has just been to a house in Dunham that’s occupied by a man called Jack Williams. The front door of his house was left wide open, and there’s no sign of him.’

  Tina asked, ‘What’s the significance of that, in relation to the Rampton enquiry?’

  Danny continued, ‘The significance is that Jack Williams is a male nurse at Rampton Hospital. It could be a coincidence, with a perfectly innocent explanation. Me, I don’t really go for coincidences. I want you to go and see Inspector Eastwood at Newark Police Station, then travel to Dunham and find out what’s happened to Jack Williams.’

  They both stood up and made to leave the office. Rachel paused at the door and said, ‘Is there any reason why you’re putting me and Tina on these enquiries, boss?’

  ‘Like I said, you’re two of my best people. I know I can rely on you to work unsupervised and to get the enquiries done. Get yourselves up to Newark and keep me in the loop, please.’

  ‘Will do, boss.’

  34