They knew they would be out of the surveillance as soon as the Range Rover was driven off, but it was important they remained where they were. That way, they could provide the rest of the team with updates about what was happening. Most important of all, they would be able to give the surveillance team notice when the target vehicle was leaving.
Their colleagues could then be ready to resume and maintain the surveillance on the Range Rover.
Bill Short and the fat man were inside the cottage for the best part of an hour.
When they finally emerged, Short walked over to the Range Rover and put the unused cleaning products back into the boot. The fat man followed him outside and immediately lit up a cigarette.
He replaced the padlock on the front door and slipped the key into his jacket pocket. Bill Short walked back over to the cottage, and the fat man offered him a cigarette and a light.
The two detectives in the woodland couldn’t quite make out what was being said by the two men as they smoked their cigarettes. They could see that the two men were both laughing and joking.
Pete Burgin used the Nikon to capture their jovial mood.
They finished smoking their cigarettes, flipped the butts onto the ground, walked towards the vehicle and climbed in.
The unknown fat man was driving again.
As soon as the engine started, Pete Burgin picked up his radio and spoke to the rest of the surveillance team: ‘Stand by, stand by. Target vehicle is leaving the plot. Target two, plus unidentified driver on board. Vehicle is leaving now, heading back towards the main road. Out.’
His message was acknowledged by a series of clicks.
In their covert earpieces, the detectives heard the clicks and then a voice saying, ‘Maintain your position until after target vehicle has left the plot. You’ll be picked up at the main road in fifteen minutes. Out.’
The Range Rover engine was revved loudly. It belched out a cloud of black diesel smoke from the twin exhausts. Seconds later it was on the move, being driven back along the single-track lane towards the main road.
After five minutes, the two crime squad detectives broke cover and walked over to the cottage.
Tony Armstrong made a note of the make of the padlock securing the front door while Pete Burgin took photographs of the cottage and the padlock.
He looked at Pete and said, ‘What the fuck was all that about? What the hell have they been cleaning up in there?’
‘I don’t know, mate, but we need to let the guv’nor know about this right away. I think DCI Flint is going to be well interested in this place.’
As they walked back along the track towards the main road, Tony Armstrong used his radio to inform DCI Carlisle of what they had seen and the make of the padlock being used to secure the cottage.
57
29 June 1986
Mansfield Police Station, Nottinghamshire
Danny Flint opened the door of his office and scanned the briefing room for Brian Hopkirk and Rob Buxton. He spotted the two men in conversation at the far end of the room.
‘Rob, Brian, I need you in here straight away.’
Danny turned, walked back into his office and sat down. Almost immediately, the two detective inspectors walked into the office.
Danny said, ‘Close the door and sit down.’
As soon as the door was closed, Danny said, ‘I’ve just had a very interesting conversation with Mattie Carlisle. The crime squad surveillance operation on Caroline and Bill Short has finally turned something up. Bill Short was picked up from the flat on Edale Close earlier today by an unknown male driving a Range Rover. The Range Rover was then driven to a secluded, derelict cottage just outside the village of Bleasby. Both men were then observed taking a load of cleaning items into this cottage. They spent an hour inside the cottage before coming back out. The unknown male then drove Bill Short back to the flat at Edale Close. Meanwhile, during the two hours Bill was out of the way, Caroline was busy entertaining Grenville Slater again.’
Rob said, ‘Who’s the unknown male driving the Range Rover?’
‘The surveillance team carried out a PNC owner enquiry as standard. It turns out the vehicle’s registered to none other than Leonard Mellor.’
An incredulous Rob said, ‘Councillor Leonard Mellor?’
‘The very same.’
‘Bloody hell.’
Danny continued, ‘Apparently, the good councillor was in possession of a key that opened the padlock being used to secure the cottage.’
Brian was thoughtful, then said, ‘There’s a padlock key on the bunch of keys used by Caroline Short for her Ford Transit. If you remember, that key couldn’t be attributed to any of the locks at Tall Trees.’
‘That’s right. Get hold of those keys out of the property store. The three of us are going to drive over to Bleasby and have a look at this cottage for ourselves. Rob, give Tim Donnelly at Scenes of Crime a quick call. If it’s at all possible, I’d like him to join us.’
58
29 June 1986
South Lodge, Retford
The sun was high in the sky. It was scorching hot, and Jimmy Wade was sweating profusely.
His hands and forearms were covered in grime that clung to his sweaty skin.
One last time, he pushed the shovel into the heap of freshly dug soil and piled the dirt onto the top of the shallow grave.
It had taken him over an hour of hard toil to dig the two graves.
They were only three feet deep and four feet long, but tree roots from the surrounding woodland had been a real pain to chop through. He’d picked a spot between the stream at the back of the lodge and the woods.
It was an area where the soil was quite soft. He thought it would be easy digging. He hadn’t factored in the myriad of roots.
After digging the graves, he’d moved the men from the outbuilding across the small bridge over the stream. He had then unceremoniously dropped them into their final resting places.
He’d moved Fred Barnes first.
The older man was the heavier. It had been a real effort to drag him out of the outbuilding. Once outside, he’d used a wheelbarrow to take him over the wooden bridge to the graves.
Wade had then tipped the male nurse from the wheelbarrow into the grave. Barnes had landed in an unusual way. He finished up face down with his backside in the air, his arms and legs tucked beneath him.
Wade grinned, picked the shovel up and began to hurl the freshly dug soil over the body. He placed the grass sods, which he’d removed when he first started digging, back onto the top of the fresh soil and stamped it down.
Apart from a small, almost imperceptible rise in the ground, the grave was virtually invisible.
He had then repeated the process, dragging Jack Williams from the outbuilding, wheelbarrowing him over to the grave site and burying him.
As he replaced the last of the grass sods onto the top of Williams’s grave, he suddenly craved an ice-cold beer. He shouted up to the lodge: ‘Mel!’
Immediately, Braithwaite emerged from the lodge and shouted back, ‘Did you call me?’
‘I’ve almost done here. Get me a cold beer ready. It’s nearly time for you to make that phone call.’
‘Okay.’
Wade stamped down the last grass sod, then placed the shovel into the wheelbarrow and pushed it back over the bridge. He stopped halfway across the bridge and looked back. Unless you knew exactly where the graves were located, you couldn’t see them.
Satisfied with his work, he smiled and made his way up to the lodge.
Sitting in the kitchen, he could feel beads of sweat trickling down his face.
He stared at the ice-cold beer in front of him, mesmerised by the small bubbles rising slowly through the amber liquid and the condensation forming on the outside of the glass.
He lifted the pint glass and gulped the lager down greedily.
The ice-cold fluid burned the back of his throat as he swallowed. He drank the pint in one go, slammed the glass dow
n onto the table and let out a loud belch.
‘Get me another. That one didn’t touch the sides!’
Instantly, she placed another beer in front of him. This time, he sipped it slowly.
‘Right, sweetheart, it’s time for you to make the call. Are you sure you know what you’re going to say?’
‘I’m sure.’
They walked from the kitchen to the hallway, where the telephone sat on a small table near the front door. The number for Rampton Hospital was in the address book that sat on the table next to the telephone.
She flicked through the book until she found it.
Lifting the receiver, she dialled the number.
When the hospital switchboard answered, she said, ‘I’d like to speak to Mr Stewart Ainsworth, please. He’s one of your social workers.’
The woman on the switchboard confirmed that she was putting the call through to his office.
Melissa replied, ‘Thank you.’
There was a pause before his voice came on the line. ‘Hello, this is Stewart Ainsworth. Can I help you?’
In a soft, almost seductive voice, Melissa said, ‘Hi, Stewart, it’s Melissa Braithwaite. I don’t know if you remember me. You came to see me at my house some time ago.’
‘Hello, Melissa. Of course I remember you. I came to see you about your visits to see Jimmy Wade, didn’t I?’
‘That’s right, and Wade’s the reason I’m calling today. I’m terrified that he hasn’t been caught, and he could still be out there somewhere. Would it be possible to see you later today? I need to have a chat about what I should do. I’m so worried, and you were the only person I could think of who might be able to help me.’
Ainsworth had remembered Melissa Braithwaite straight away. How could he forget her? She was gorgeous. The poor woman sounded terrified. If he played this right, he might be able to use her fear to his own advantage.
A sly grin formed across his mouth, and he said, ‘Of course. I’d be more than happy to come and see you. The problem is I don’t finish work until later.’
‘Please, Stewart, I’m desperate. I need to talk to someone as soon as possible. I’ve got an idea; why don’t I cook for you? You could come over after work, I’d make us a nice meal, and we can have a chat over a bottle of wine.’
Stewart Ainsworth’s sly grin turned into a full-blown lecherous smile; this was going to be easier than he’d first thought.
‘That sounds perfect, Melissa. Are you still at the same house?’
‘Yes, I’m still at South Lodge.’
‘The place in the woods?’
She giggled coyly and said, ‘That’s right. Don’t worry about having a drink this evening. If you have one glass too many, there’s a spare room. You could always stay over.’
‘I finish work at six o’clock. I can be at yours for six thirty if that’s okay?’
Melissa purred, ‘Thank you so much, Stewart, that’s wonderful. I look forward to seeing you later.’
Stewart Ainsworth put the telephone down, let out a whoop and said aloud, ‘Result!’
As Melissa replaced the receiver, Jimmy Wade looked at her and said, ‘That was fucking brilliant! Come here, sweetheart!’
He grabbed her and pulled her roughly towards him. As he pulled her in close, he said, ‘I’m filthy. I need a hot shower. Get up those stairs. You’re coming in with me to help wash all this grime off.’
She said nothing as she followed Wade up the stairs.
She knew in her heart that she had just sealed the fate of Stewart Ainsworth.
59
29 June 1986
Bleasby, Nottinghamshire
The small derelict cottage hadn’t been easy to find.
The three detectives and the scenes of crime officer were all crammed into the small CID car. They had followed the detailed directions given by the crime squad surveillance team, and they had still struggled to locate it.
It really was off the beaten track.
As Rob Buxton turned off the country lane and onto the single track that led into dense woodland, he said, ‘Are you sure this is right?’
Danny said, ‘According to the directions, the cottage is about a hundred yards down this lane.’
Rob continued to drive slowly, trying to avoid the potholes on the unmade track. He was using his own car in case they were challenged, and he was desperate not to damage the vehicle.
After negotiating a bend in the track, they got their first glimpse of the cottage.
The property had originally been built for use by farm workers employed at the nearby Beech Tree Farm, but it hadn’t been occupied for years.
Beech Tree Farm no longer functioned as a working farm. Most of the land associated with the business had been sold to the Forestry Commission.
The majority of the sold-off land was now planted with ten-year-old conifers. The conifer growth made the surrounding area seem dark and uninviting. That, coupled with its remote location, made the cottage a forgotten building.
The occupants of the car got out and stared at the grey stone cottage.
It was a small property that had two boarded-up windows downstairs, either side of the heavy front door. The two windows on the first floor were also boarded. A weed-covered garden path led from the front gate to the front door.
On the rusting gate was a small sign that read ‘Mayflower Cottage’.
The gate itself had, at one time, been decorative and ornate. Now it was hanging by one hinge and was in keeping with the rest of the decaying building.
The gardens were overgrown and unkempt.
The detectives walked around the perimeter of the cottage. They found an outside privy and a couple of other stone outbuildings at the rear of the property.
The only sign of any recent human involvement with the cottage was the shiny new padlock that had been used to secure the front door. Even the wooden boards that now protected the windows were covered in dark green mould, caused by years of untreated rain damage.
Danny turned to Brian and said, ‘Have you got the keys?’
Brian produced the bunch of keys that had been seized from the home address of Caroline Short.
He stepped forward and tried the unaccounted-for key in the new padlock.
The well-greased arm of the padlock sprang open with a turn of the key. Brian removed the lock from the hasp and opened the heavy door.
‘I think we’re going to need some torches. It’s pretty dark inside.’
Tim Donnelly said, ‘I’ve put a couple of Dragon lights in the boot. I’ll fetch them.’
He turned and walked back to the car.
As they waited for the Scenes of Crime officer, Danny said, ‘Is it possible for a building to feel evil?’
Rob whispered, ‘I don’t know, Danny, but this place gives me the creeps.’
Tim returned carrying two of the heavy-duty Dragon lamps that, when switched on, provided a light as bright as day. He was also carrying a large rucksack over his shoulder.
Putting the bag on the floor, he said, ‘I’ve brought suits, gloves, overshoes and exhibit bags. I suggest we all get suited and booted before we have a look inside.’
Without saying a word, the men put the protective clothing on.
Danny then picked up a Dragon light and led the way into the cottage.
He stepped from the bright sunlight into the dark cottage. He paused to allow his eyes time to adjust. Still unable to see clearly, he flicked on the light.
The inside space was instantly flooded with a bright white light.
Danny could now see that he was standing in the entrance hallway of the cottage. Directly ahead was an uncarpeted wooden staircase. To the right was a doorway that led to what had once been the lounge. The door was no longer there, and the lounge itself was uncarpeted and unfurnished. There was a strong smell of damp and decay emanating from the room.
Danny turned to the left and saw another open doorway, minus the door. This room had once been the sitting room an
d was also bare and damp.
To the immediate left of the staircase was a passageway that led to the rear of the property.
Stepping forward slowly, being careful where he placed his feet, Danny walked along the passageway.
He saw a small utility cupboard beneath the stairs. The door of the cupboard looked as though it had been recently opened. The cobwebs around the door had been brushed to one side. Opening the door, he could see a dust-covered electricity meter. There were a few old tools strewn on the floor. The space inside was thick with cobwebs and reeked of mould.
Danny closed the cupboard door and moved forward again.
He stepped through another open doorway and into what had once been the kitchen.
There was no smell of damp or mould in this room. There was just an overpowering smell of bleach. Looking around the room, he could see a sink unit and four cupboards. There was a space where the cooker had once stood. It was a space that would have been filled by a huge oil-powered Aga. There was no gas connected to the cottage.
The kitchen was completely devoid of cups, pots or pans of any description. There was a ramshackle wooden table and four chairs in the centre of the room.
Rob wrinkled his nose and said, ‘Bloody hell! Can you smell that?’
Danny replied, ‘It’s bleach. This room’s been thoroughly cleaned, but I don’t think anyone’s been in the two rooms at the front of the building in years. Tim, you and Brian have a good look down here. Rob, come with me. We’ll go and have a look upstairs.’
Tim Donnelly switched on the light he was carrying and, together with Brian, began an examination of the downstairs rooms. Danny and Rob retraced their steps along the hallway, then began to climb the wooden staircase.
Pausing at the top of the stairs, Danny was confronted by three doorways. The doors to the rooms upstairs were all still in place. Once again there was the overpowering, searing stench of bleach.
Danny pushed open the first door.
A Cold Grave: A DCI Danny Flint Book Page 21