Barking Mad

by Ted Tayler

  Chief Constable Sandra Plunkett tidied her office and drove home to a cottage in the country a few miles from Lichfield. There, she joined her partner, Naomi Hall. Gus could only speculate over the conversations that followed. He learned the outcome on Monday morning when the ACC called him to the London Road HQ.

  Sandra Plunkett had helped conceal a hit-and-run death that occurred in September 2012. Naomi Hall was an innocent party. She wasn’t with Sandra at that senior officers’ reunion weekend. The prospect of Sandra’s career coming to an inglorious end proved too much for both partners to take. The two women committed suicide, and the emergency services personnel discovered them side by side, holding hands, in their garage.

  Assistant Chief Constable, Dominic Culverhouse, worked on until the end of the day. He left the Avon and Somerset HQ in Portishead to spend the weekend at home near Hereford. Culverhouse exercised his right to transfer to another force until the IOPC investigation concluded. Whereas Sandra Plunkett spoke with nobody at Devizes before she left, Culverhouse was at great pains to point out to his colleagues that he had nothing to hide. Culverhouse stressed this allegation was a figment of someone’s bitter imagination.

  The ACC called Gus at home yesterday evening to inform him that Culverhouse would attend a meeting on Friday. The preliminary meeting at Portishead would hear evidence and decide whether it required a misconduct hearing.

  Gus drove into the car park below the CRT office and parked. As he got out of his old Focus, he spotted Luke Sherman arriving.

  “Good morning, Luke,” he said.

  “It is, guv,” said Luke, “and long may it continue.”

  They rode in the lift together and found Lydia Logan Barre had beaten them to it.

  “You just missed DS Mercer, guv,” she said.

  “Here, or on the phone?” asked Gus.

  “On the phone, guv. You need to turn straight around and drive back to Devizes. There were developments overnight.”

  Gus sighed and headed for the lift.

  “We’ll crack on with arranging those interviews, guv,” said Luke.

  “I’ll chase the Hub for the outstanding research they’re handling for us,” added Lydia.

  Gus waved a hand in acknowledgement.

  He’d known it was too good to last. The trip into town had gone too smoothly, and now every known hot-spot teemed with traffic for the return journey. It took fifty minutes before he escaped the stifling heat of the interior of his Focus and climbed the steps to the door of the HQ building.

  A glance showed the ACC expected him at least fifteen minutes earlier. He glowered at him from his first-floor office window. Gus imagined it was a glower. Difficult to tell with the glare of the sun in his eyes.

  Geoff Mercer wasn’t at the top of the stairs waiting for him this morning. He stood right inside the main door and immediately grabbed his arm.

  “Don’t bother signing in,” he said, dragging Gus towards the stairs, “I’ve filled in your details. You can initial them on your way out. The ACC didn’t want you getting waylaid by the admin staff.”

  The opportunity to chat with Vera Butler and Kassie Trotter was the highlight of many of Gus’s visits to London Road. The ACC must have something important to impart. Gus hoped it was news that Ricky Gardiner was under lock and key.

  Geoff and Gus made it through the ACC’s office door with no one stopping them. Kenneth Truelove turned away from the window and sat in his chair.

  “A Metropolitan Police surgeon is examining a body recovered from a flat fire in Honor Oak Park this morning,” he said. “DI Mike Farrell suspects it’s Ricky Gardiner.”

  “How will they tell?” asked Gus.

  “Dental records,” said Geoff Mercer, “the body got badly burned.”

  “London Fire Brigade will confirm later today whether it was arson,” said the ACC. “DI Farrell said a sub-officer at the scene told him there was large-blister charring which showed that the fire developed rapidly and generated high temperatures. There were signs of a liquid accelerant. The irregular burn patterns suggested that someone had poured a flammable liquid on the kitchen floor and worktops.”

  “Perhaps Gardiner killed the owner of the flat and disappeared?” asked Gus.

  “The lady who was renting the flat spent the night with her daughter. Since they’ve been in London, Farrell and his team learned that Gardiner had several properties in which to lie low. It appears he sublet most of those for a reasonable sum with one proviso. If Gardiner ever needed a bed for the night, they had to accommodate him. Mrs Gardjy, the lady who rented the two-bedroomed flat in Honor Oak, told Mike her guest was staying a maximum of two nights. She knew him as James Harlow but was uneasy sleeping under the same roof, so she went to her daughter’s as soon as Ricky left for the pub. Mike Farrell also unearthed the name, Tony Fernandez, as another identity Gardiner assumed from time to time.”

  “If it was Gardiner in that fire, it means someone killed him and tried to destroy any evidence that might lead back to them,” said Geoff Mercer.

  “Who do we know that wanted Gardiner dead?” asked Gus.

  “You’re not seriously suggesting Culverhouse had anything to do with it, are you?”

  “Why not, Geoff?” said Gus, “Sandra Plunkett’s dead.”

  “It makes perfect sense,” agreed the ACC. “We sent evidence to the IOPC showing that he and Plunkett were in a car which hit Jason Whitworth and failed to stop. Gardiner murdered Terry Davis to prevent that secret from getting uncovered. We are relying on the IOPC to find the money trail which proved Culverhouse and Plunkett paid Gardiner to get rid of Davis.”

  “That was the only potential flaw in the package we sent to the IOPC,” said Geoff. “As far as our two colleagues were concerned, the truth about what occurred on that road back in 2012 was enough to ruin their careers. That degree of serious misconduct would get them dismissed from service. Criminal charges relating to the hit-and-run would follow. The icing on the cake was proving beyond doubt that they hired Gardiner to kill Terry Davis.”

  “Culverhouse and Plunkett might have covered the money trail so well that the IOPC could never link them to the murder,” said the ACC.

  “We caught Gardiner in half a dozen spots in Devizes on the night in question,” said Gus. “He was a mercenary, based on testimony from his former colleagues at the Met. We know he left for London from Chippenham station after walking from Devizes and the timing fits for the murder. What we can’t do is put Gardiner at the top of that fire escape pushing Terry to his death.”

  “What you’re saying is,” said the ACC, “a good brief might well get him off the murder charge.”

  “We had one other thing to add,” said Gus, “Terry’s phone. Neil collected it from Chippenham station. Gardiner handed it in with a story he’d found it in the car park. Forensics didn’t find any fingerprints to prove Gardiner handled it, as we suspected would be the case, and there was nothing concerning the case on the phone. Again, there was no doubt it was Gardiner. A member of the station staff identified him from a photograph, but anyone could have found the phone in Devizes and dropped it at the station. It might look suspicious, but a good brief could say it was only circumstantial.”

  “There was so much that only added up once you accepted our explanation of how things went. Despite that, everything hinged on the money trail to close the loop,” agreed Geoff. “We can’t do every job. We handed what we’d gathered on the murder to Warwickshire Police to treat it as a prelude to Suzie Ferris’s kidnapping. Gardiner was going to prison for that anyway if they’d caught and arrested him.”

  “Let’s analyse this for a minute and forget the triumvirate for now,” said Gus. “We gave the IOPC enough evidence to nail Culverhouse and Plunkett on the hit-and-run. Agreed?”

  Geoff Mercer and Kenneth Truelove nodded their agreement.

  “DCI Oliver Pinnock at Leek Wootton had the evidence to charge Gardiner with kidnapping Suzie once they made an arrest. Do you see any fl
aws there?”

  “None,” said Geoff. The ACC shook his head.

  “Except that they can’t charge a dead man,” he said. “If the body in the flat was Ricky Gardiner.”

  “True, but someone at the IOPC and Leek Wootton should ask the obvious questions,” said Gus. “Why was Terry Davis murdered? Why did Gardiner kidnap Suzie? Even the dimmest detective would realise there was more to it.”

  “Without proof that Gardiner committed both crimes and a money trail leading to Culverhouse and Plunkett, it will be impossible to implicate them in any other crime than the hit-and-run,” said the ACC.

  “Could you console yourself with the prospect of Culverhouse serving a minimum of eight years in prison, Gus?” asked Geoff.

  “I suppose so, Geoff,” Gus replied. “Where is Culverhouse?”

  “He applied to transfer out of Avon and Somerset for the duration of the investigation,” said the ACC. “I’ll make enquiries.”

  “Do you want me for anything else?” asked Gus, “I need to rally the troops on this Mark Malone case.”

  The ACC was already on the phone. Geoff followed Gus to the door.

  “What a strange week,” said Geoff, “I never liked our Chief Constable, but I wouldn’t have wished her dead. As for Ricky Gardiner, he was a nasty piece of work, and there won’t be many tears shed if it turns out it was him in that fire. Yet I can’t help wishing he was still alive. Gardiner’s death could destroy several loose ends we needed to tie up to clinch the case against Culverhouse. Nothing is ever straightforward, is it?”

  “Morning, Mr Freeman,” called Kassie, “are you dashing off without a word?”

  “Mr Freeman’s busy, Kassie,” said Geoff Mercer, “as you ought to be. The ACC hasn’t had his mid-morning coffee yet. Nor have I come to think of it.”

  “Vera’s delivered your refreshments to your office, Mr Mercer,” said Kassie. “Suzie Ferris is waiting for you. She’s supposed to be doing afternoons only this week, but she wondered if there was any news on that Gardiner bloke. I’ll sort out the ACC now you’re both out of the way. He might enjoy getting his teeth into one of my bonbons.”

  Geoff and Gus shared a glance. That sounded far worse than it was in reality.

  “I’d better update Suzie,” said Geoff, as Kassie went to see to Kenneth Truelove. “You get back to your CRT people, Gus. No doubt, there will be further updates from Mike Farrell before the day’s out.”

  Geoff disappeared into the gloomy passageway leading to his office. Gus wanted to follow him to see Suzie. Vera was bringing empty cups from the opposite side of the admin area and stopped for a chat.

  “What is it this time?” she asked, “whenever you turn up at London Road, there’s always unpleasant news.”

  “An unconfirmed report that Ricky Gardiner died in a fire in London overnight. It looks like murder.”

  “What a mess,” said Vera, “that only leaves Dominic Culverhouse.”

  “Convenient, don’t you think?” said Gus. “Sorry, I can’t stop, Vera, I need to get back to work.”

  “Another time?” she asked.

  “Definitely,” said Gus, “this business will be over one day.”

  Vera watched Gus descend the stairs and sign out. Then she walked back to the kitchen. Kassie joined her thirty seconds later with more dirty cups and saucers.

  “You wash, and I’ll wipe,” said Kassie. “How was Mr Freeman, did you snatch a word with him?”

  “Half a dozen, at most.”

  “Are you okay?” asked Kassie.

  “Oh, I’ll get over it,” said Vera, “I’m taking my first steps tomorrow night. A few of us are meeting for a drink in the Bear.”

  “Back in the ranks of the FEW, Vera, who’d have thought, eh?” said Kassie. “If I don’t find someone soon I’ll forge the necessary documents and join you.”

  “Perhaps we could arrange an honorary membership,” said Vera. “because you don’t qualify as an ex-wife.”

  When Gus reached the Old Police Station office, he updated Lydia and Luke with the news from London. There was nothing they could do to influence matters. Mike Farrell was running the operation, and that would end once he knew the autopsy result.

  Gus wondered how Suzie took the news that there could be nobody to charge for her kidnapping. It was an unsatisfactory ending and no mistake. Gus imagined that John and Jackie Ferris would feel the same way.

  “How many identities did Gardiner have, guv?” asked Lydia.

  “I’m not sure anyone knows,” said Gus, “once Mike Farrell and his crew return to Warwickshire, I guess they’ll lose interest in chasing any more information. I’d hope the Met would try to unravel the mystery. If Kenneth Truelove were on the ball, he’d be badgering them to continue chasing the money.”

  “Alex’s background check on Gardiner’s family threw up several properties his late mother owned, didn’t it?” asked Luke.

  “Gardiner was selling everything off, Luke,” said Gus, “I expect he planned to make a new life abroad, as many do, living in the lap of luxury. That didn’t work out well for him if he died in that fire last night.”

  “Are you ready to hear the list of interviewees, guv?” asked Luke.

  “Are we talking to the Bath-based people first?”

  “Yes, guv, we can tackle the Newbury list tomorrow or Friday.”

  “We could drop by the JET garage on the way back to work out what might have gone on there. Was that the spark that lit the flame, or was it a slow burn from Newbury?”

  “We will need to spread the net wider, guv,” said Lydia, “I’ve traced the names of gang members who could have attacked Mark Allison. One of those men could have inherited the weapon used to kill Mark Malone.”

  “Or it could have made its way to someone with no connection to any of the above,” said Gus, “but it’s a start. OK, read them and weep.”

  “Jenny Malone was Mark’s mother. She’s fifty-four years of age, divorced. She runs an employment agency in Bath. The family home is in Combe Down.”

  “Mark wasn’t living at home, was he?” asked Gus.

  “No, guv,” said Luke, “he lived alone in a swish flat off Marlborough Lane, near the Royal Crescent.”

  “Swish, Luke?” asked Gus, “have you been there?”

  Luke looked flustered for a second but composed himself.

  “I didn’t know Mark, guv. I was already with Nicky in 2015. However, I’ve visited the area often. We have friends who live in the Royal Crescent. It has high exclusivity and properties in nearby Marlborough Lane, both old and new, have gained a certain cachet through their proximity.”

  “Very nice, I’m sure,” said Gus, “does Combe Down possess the same cachet?”

  “Not quite, guv,” said Luke, “but Jenny Malone owns a detached three-bedroomed house with a double garage that would fetch three-quarters of a million if it came on the market.”

  “We should talk to Jenny Malone first,” said Gus, “we need far more background on our victim than we’ve got in the murder file.”

  “I’ve just got the detailed phone records back from the Hub we wanted, guv,” said Lydia. “I can show you Mark Malone’s complete contact list and who he got in touch with in the forty-eight hours before he died.”

  “I’ll study the detail later, Lydia, when it’s available in the Freeman Files. Can you give me the highlights? I want to get a feel for the guy.”

  “Malone had around two hundred contacts on his phone. A rough estimate would be that forty percent of those related to his pet shop business. His family and friends comprised around the same number. Mark was a gregarious young man with a wide circle of friends and a great love of dogs. I don’t recall it featuring in the murder file, but Mark Malone bred specialist breeds and showed them at Crufts. He was successful without ever taking home the ultimate prize. Up to forty names on his phone were people and organisations from the Kennel Club world.”

  “That’s interesting,” said Gus, “but it doesn’t exp
lain how he could afford such an expensive car. Nor why Mark got shot with a murder weapon once owned by a London gang member. I’m not au fait with the doggie world, but it doesn’t strike me as the community where I’d expect to rub shoulders with someone from organised crime.”

  “Can’t agree there, guv,” said Luke. “These show dogs can be expensive enough to attract criminals. I read a report last month of three puppies stolen from a house in Leicester. One was a Best in Breed at last year’s Crufts and valued at over twenty thousand pounds. The other two were worth around three thousand pounds each.”

  “What would the thieves do with them?” asked Gus. “Is there a market, because surely animals such as these get micro-chipped, don’t they? There would be no chance of the thieves showing the dogs in any competitions themselves.”

  “Perhaps they believed that champions bred champions, guv,” said Lydia, “like racehorses. If they couldn’t sell them on, then it might mean they would destroy them. How horrible.”

  “Even if the police found the three dogs, the owners thought their competition days were at an end,” said Luke. “These animals are temperamental, and a traumatic disruption to their routine could prove devastating.”

  “Not as devastating as for the owners,” said Lydia, “I bet they are desperate to get them home. Owners of common dog breeds can treat their pets as members of the family. Heaven knows how important those dogs were to that Leicester family.”

  “Was there any further information in the article you read, Luke, concerning the puppy trade?” asked Gus. He was ready to admit a total lack of knowledge of what went on in this business.

  “The European Union was getting involved in the booming puppy trade scandal even before Mark Malone’s death, guv. This trade isn’t exclusive to Britain; the illegal trade is rife across Europe. They require eight million puppies each year to supply the demand. That makes online trade worth over one billion euros.”