by Ted Tayler
Culverhouse didn’t shrug on this occasion.
Guy Templeman spotted the tension in his colleague’s jaw. The IOPC team were closing in for the kill.
“Your car is distinctive,” said Steve Nobbs, “we know from the Oakley incident that you prefer to drive a prestige vehicle. We soon spotted your Lexus travelling on the M5 and the M42 on the evening of Thursday, the seventeenth of May. We confirmed the registration on ANPR. You drove from Hereford to Leek Wootton to deliver the cash in person, didn’t you? Sandra risked leaving a trail by using Royal Mail and divided her contribution into two amounts. You handed Ricky Gardiner five thousand pounds in notes. He was careful not to leave incriminating evidence behind at 186 Woodman Lane when he cleared out on the following Tuesday.”
“You wouldn’t disclose the details of the conference call that Tuesday afternoon,” said Madeleine. “Events that followed suggest the three of you argued as I suggested. I imagine Gardiner told you he would drop you both in it if he got caught. He was an expert in self-preservation. An undercover cop who can stay in control with a loaded gun in his mouth knows how to save his skin. Can you remember how you concealed the cash, so nobody knew what you were carrying? Of course, it was in a white jiffy bag you found lying around at home. It was the perfect size for that amount of cash. You took the precaution of ripping off the label with your name and address, but Ricky never handled the bag, did he? What did he do, ask you to leave it on the kitchen table? Your fingerprints were all over it.”
“Ricky must have worn gloves when he removed the cash,” said Steve Nobbs, “he placed the empty bag on the Welsh dresser in full view. Almost as if he wanted the police to find it.”
Guy Templeman knew the game was up. Dominic was as guilty as sin. He could see it written across his face in big, bold letters.
“There’s more,” said Madeleine Lefevre.
Guy Templeman could tell she was enjoying this. He couldn’t blame her. Dominic would be one of the biggest fish the IOPC had landed since they took over from the old Independent Police Complaints Commission.
“I believe the object you used to disable Gardiner was a fibreglass-handled club hammer, and the accelerants used were bottles of paint thinner and white spirit. A man answering your description paid cash for these three items on Monday lunchtime at the B&Q Extra store in Millennium Leisure Park. The checkout operator remembered the uniform.”
“What have you got to say, Dominic?” asked Guy Templeman.
“Lawyer.”
CHAPTER 10
Friday, 8th June 2018 - the Crime Review Team office
“That didn’t take long,” said Luke as Gus and Lydia exited the lift.
“You need to ask the right questions, Luke,” said Gus.
“I asked most of them,” said Lydia, “From the list that you handed me just before we entered the gallery.”
“I rest my case,” said Gus. “Lydia can update her section of the Freeman Files while you take me through the backgrounds you’ve dug out for our London gang members. How far is Islington from Barking, does anybody know?”
“A little over ten miles, guv,” said Luke, “thirty minutes tops. Why do you ask?”
“One name that appeared in Mark Malone’s burner phone was Mehmet Barking. Can you see a Mehmet on your list of potential gang members?”
“I’ve got a Mehmet Demir, forty-four. He’s spent more time in prison than out since arriving in 1994. There’s no mention of him ever living in Essex, though. He’s either in Stratford or Belmarsh. Mark Allison was a casualty in the October 2013 turf war in Islington when our murder weapon first surfaced. It’s probable Mehmet Demir fired the gun on that occasion.”
“We need to double-check Mehmet was on the streets for both murders,” said Gus, “who else do we have?”
“I had three names left after I’d eliminated gang members in prison or dead at the time of Mark Malone’s murder, guv,” said Luke. “Besides Demir, I found Hakan Turgut, thirty-five, arrested for his involvement in the Islington turf war, but never charged. Turgut hasn’t changed his ways, he’s still a soldier, and this shooting wouldn’t be out of character for him. Violence is his stock-in-trade, and although he’s not known to have killed anyone, the level of violence has been increasing, based on his court appearances.”
“They sound a pleasant group of lads,” said Gus, “when did Hakan arrive on these shores?”
“Hakan was born in the UK, guv, and he’s well worth a look. Finally, we have Emir Polat, thirty-six, who arrived in 2008. It makes you wonder what checks get carried out. Polat had a record as long as your arm before leaving Turkey. As soon as he arrived, Emir got involved with one of the Stratford crews. Emir Polat is more brain than brawn. He could have recruited Mark Malone; if, Mark got involved in criminal activity.”
“You’re right to rein me in, Luke,” said Gus. “By focussing on the customised BMW and wondering how Mark could have afforded it without being a crook, we’re not looking to see if Mark became a victim for another reason. I reckon the weekend has come at the right time. We’ll pick up the trail first thing on Monday when Neil will be back to help. I need to get my thinking cap on while I’m working on my allotment. It might pay to go through everything we’ve learned this week to check that one of our interviewees wasn’t hiding something.”
“Everything points to Mark Malone being guilty of something, guv,” said Lydia looking up from her computer monitor.
“That’s what worries me,” said Gus, “there’s one piece of that Saturday night jigsaw that doesn’t fit at the moment.”
“The JET garage?” asked Luke.
“That’s right. We know Trefor Davies is methodical. In that initial investigation, the detectives learned of the altercation between the two BMW drivers. That row got passed off as a spat between two motorists. Patrick Boddington told us Mark said he didn’t know the man banging on his window.”
“That means it couldn’t have been Emir or Mehmet,” said Luke.
“Unless Mark had never had a face-to-face meeting with them,” said Gus.
“Hang on, let’s recheck the original murder file,” said Luke. “I remember reading that there was no further CCTV coverage after the JET garage on the A4. Which was why nobody could confirm whether the grey 7-Series BMW or the black SUV followed Mark along the Beckhampton straight.”
“What was stopping both vehicles following him?” asked Gus.
“It’s possible,” said Luke. He kept flicking through the paperwork in the murder file. “Here we go. The camera position wasn’t great.”
“When is it ever?” asked Gus, “in fairness, they’re more concerned with a boy racer filling up and driving off without paying than two drivers having a shouting match.”
“There’s no question this was Mark’s car,” said Luke. “Even though the tinted windows prevent us from seeing his face. The grey BMW must have stopped behind him, and the driver jumped out. This image shows the unknown male banging on Mark’s window.”
“Note his physical description, Luke. How tall do you reckon? Between six foot and six foot three?”
“Looking at how he’s leaning over the car, guv, yes, he’s at least six foot tall. Stocky, well-muscled and with short black hair. He could weigh fifteen stones, give or take. There’s no way we can make out his features though.”
“Do you have a photograph of Mehmet Demir handy?” asked Gus.
“That’s not Demir, guv,” said Luke. “he’s short, overweight, hairy and has a dark complexion.”
“This guy could hardly be any different,” said Gus, “so who is he? Could that be Hakan Turgut?”
Luke searched for a recent photograph of Turgut from police records.
“We can’t be one hundred per cent sure with only a back view, guv, but it’s a possibility.”
“I agree,” said Gus, “it’s close enough. The garage CCTV never caught sight of anyone else in the grey BMW, did it?”
Luke shook his head.
“A
lso, the black SUV was never on the forecourt according to the evidence Patrick Boddington gave us,” said Gus. “Patrick said that Mark told him the black SUV appeared behind him after he’d left the garage. In that last conversation after midnight, as Mark headed towards the Devizes exit off the roundabout, there was no hint that two cars were chasing Mark into town.”
“No, guv,” said Luke, “and there’s nobody to ask.”
“Well, we can ask the drivers of the BMW and the SUV. Unless there’s another gang member we haven’t identified yet, then Turgut and Polat were driving.”
“Which means our suspected killer, Mehmet Demir, was a passenger in one car,” said Luke.
“What was it you said earlier about a face-to-face meeting?” asked Gus. “How could we find that out?”
“Did Patrick make a note of the burner phone number, guv?” asked Luke.
“That wasn’t on my list of questions, Luke. You can’t blame Lydia for that. Patrick gave us a fair amount of detail, though. We can ask him later about the number. Emir first rang Mark on the burner phone in February 2014, which suggests they had already met for Emir to hand over the phone.”
“Why was Emir identified as Pompey in the burner phone, guv? He’s a Stratford lad.”
“Emir wouldn’t be the first criminal to leave the big city and move to a port such as Portsmouth,” said Gus. “If we stick with our smuggling theory as the reason behind Mark working with them, then Portsmouth is as good a port to bring the dogs through as any.”
“Fair comment. If Neil were here, he’d suggest a football connection. Emir lived in London but might have supported Portsmouth.”
“Based on my limited knowledge of the area and football, Luke, West Ham would get Neil’s vote. No, I’d discount football and concentrate on the deep water cargo terminal.”
“How would Emir even learn about Mark, guv? I can’t see them mixing in the same circles.”
“Let’s chew this over for a while,” said Gus. “If the gang decided it was profitable to bring valuable animals into the country, then what did they need? An access point with less security than an airport or one of the major Southern ports, Southampton, London, or Felixstowe. Right, they selected Portsmouth, and they’ve got their dogs in the UK, now what?”
“They needed customers, guv,” said Luke.
“Would you buy a dog from Mehmet Demir?” asked Gus.
“I get you,” said Luke, “the gang needed a middle man, someone that people trusted. Mark fitted the bill. He loved animals and had a well-established pet shop in a city with a sizeable population.”
“So we can assume Emir did the talking. He’s the brains of the operation. I doubt we’ll be able to find any trace of Emir in Bath after this length of time. It’s a task you can give to the Hub. Give it a low priority. I don’t want any of us trawling through reams of paperwork. He could have driven to Bath, or let the train take the strain. Either way, he would be in and out in daylight hours.”
“You’re thinking a brief visit to discuss, or dictate terms, and another trip to drop off the burner phone. Why not at the dog shows?”
“Excellent idea,” said Gus. “that gave the gang access to numerous pet shop owners under the same roof. Maybe the initial contacts happened there, and then those that agreed to co-operate received their phone in a face-to-face meeting. Maybe Mehmet or Hakan delivered the phones.”
“That makes sense,” said Luke, “Emir sweet-talked the owners, told them there was money in it for them, and several go ahead. When the hard men arrive with the phones, the owners get the message that there’s no turning back.”
“Can you tell me where Mehmet was in February 2014 when Emir made that first call to Mark Malone?”
“Belmarsh, guv. He got out at the end of June.”
“That fits, his first call to Mark came in August. Something doesn’t add up.”
“Ah, Hakan Turgut,” said Luke.
“If Mehmet was in Belmarsh, then who delivered Mark’s phone? It couldn’t have been Hakan. Mark didn’t recognise him at the garage.”
“We’ve only got Patrick’s word for that, guv,” said Luke.
“I stand corrected, Luke,” said Gus, “but why would Patrick lie?”
“I can’t see he had anything to gain, no, I agree,” said Luke.
“Perhaps, Emir had someone else on the books while his enforcer, Mehmet, was in prison, or he travelled to Bath himself. The Hub might investigate that for us. Emir could have relatives in the city.”
“Patrick might shed light on that,” said Luke. “We can ask when we call regarding the burner phone.”
“So, after chewing it over for a few minutes, where have we go to?” asked Gus. “We still have holes, but we’ve got a framework for the gang’s master plan now. They set up a network of pet shops across the south of the country that took dogs smuggled through Portsmouth. The gang used the burner phones a month to six weeks apart. That must have coincided with the frequency of arrivals at the port. On Friday, before Mark died, there were three conversations between Emir and Mark. That was unusual and pointed to a problem that Emir wanted to fix. On Saturday afternoon, there was just one call. Thanks to Patrick again, we believe Mark felt threatened by the BMW and the SUV. That suggests that the talking ended. Mark hadn’t done what they asked, and when they got hold of him, it wouldn’t end well. They caught up with him at the JET garage, but things had to wait until they were somewhere quieter. Fifteen minutes later, after a high-speed chase into Devizes, one car overtook Mark and slowed him enough for Mehmet Demir to get off six shots.”
“A lot of fuss for a few posh puppies,” said Lydia, who had finished updating the files.
“Thank you, Lydia,” said Gus, “that’s another question to add to the list for my time at the allotment. You’re right. We’re still missing something. At the moment, I can’t see it. Let’s forget work for today, get off home, enjoy the weekend and we’ll come back refreshed on Monday.”
Luke and Lydia didn’t need telling twice. They tidied their desks and headed for the lift together within five minutes. Gus got his thoughts on the day’s interview into the files. Anything that produced a niggle while he was keying it in was something else to ponder once he got home.
As Gus saved his work ten minutes later, nothing had struck him as out of synch with his overall impression of the Malone case. He wondered if that fact alone suggested they’d missed something. Maybe he was overthinking things, or he was tired and should just get off home.
The phone rang. Gus groaned. Why hadn’t he left with the others?
“Freeman,” he answered.
“Truelove, here. Can you drop into London Road as soon as possible?”
“I’ll leave straight away, Sir,” said Gus, “can you tell me what it’s about?”
Obviously not, Gus thought, as the line was dead.
Ah well, late on a Friday afternoon he only had forty-five minutes to wait to find out. Gus cleared his desk and made his way to the car park. Just as he feared, the traffic was horrendous in both directions on the road out of town. Why didn’t anyone work on a Friday afternoon anymore? Had someone announced a four-and-a-half day week was compulsory, and he’d missed it?
It was approaching five o’clock when he pulled into the London Road car park. There was plenty of space for visitors. Nobody was daft enough to make an appointment when the weekend had already started.
Gus reached the steps to the front entrance. As he placed his foot on the first step, the door opened, and the rush for home began. It was apparent none of the office staff planned to work any overtime.
Vera Butler and Kassie Trotter descended the steps together. Vera’s new home was only a few minutes’ walk away. Kassie would catch a bus out to Worton after she’d visited a supermarket to stock up on supplies. Gus hadn’t been here since Wednesday and missed their conversations. Times were changing.
“How are my two favourite admin staff?” Gus asked, hoping that didn’t sound insincere.
“We’re fine, Mr Freeman,” said Kassie, “although we can’t say the same for others we could mention.”
“The Acting Chief Constable will give you the gory details, Gus,” said Vera. “Things don’t stay settled for long in this place these days. Kassie blames you, of course, but I know you can’t control how other people react. However, there’s a correlation between your return to work and this constant upheaval.”
Vera smiled at Gus and kissed him on the cheek before she and Kassie walked out of the car park onto London Road.
The numbers of civilians leaving the building thinned enough for Gus to get inside. He signed in at reception and took the stairs two at a time to the first floor. A familiar face met him outside the ACC’s office.
“You received the call too?” asked Geoff Mercer, “I was ready to make my way home. I promised Christine I would be early on a Friday evening for a change. That’s gone out of the window now. Let’s get in to see him and get this over.”
“You’ve no idea what it’s about either then, Geoff?” asked Gus.
“I know what happened first thing today. I told you Kenneth postponed our regular morning meeting, didn’t I?”
“You said you could put your feet up for an hour, was that it?” said Gus.
Geoff ignored him, knocked, and opened the door. Kenneth Truelove sat at his desk, looking pleased as punch. Gus wasn’t sure how to take this unusual state of affairs. The ACC either stared out of his window, or he appeared to have a dark cloud overhead when he sat at his desk. The beaming grin he wore this afternoon was disturbing.
“Come in, sit yourselves down, Freeman,” said the ACC. “Mercer, lock the door if you please. I don’t imagine many people are out there to barge in on proceedings, but we don’t get many opportunities to celebrate.”
The ACC walked over to a filing cabinet that Gus had never seen opened. He knew the ACC did more than attend meetings and have his photo taken at various functions. Still, the idea Truelove generated enough paperwork to fill a filing cabinet was an alien notion.