It took evisceration to discover which wound had killed her. One of the slashes had severed her inferior vena cava. She also had a ruptured spleen, pancreatic haemorrhaging and a damaged liver. She could have perhaps held on for the emergency services with a severed vein, but together with all her other injuries, unconsciousness and death, though not as speedy as Ella’s, were inevitable in under five minutes without medical help. He’d read in her notes that she was probably found ten or so minutes after the attack. His conclusion was the same: exsanguination.
He felt dog tired, though he’d never let on to Kelly. It was a rarity that he had to perform two autopsies in one day, even in one week normally. That said, there was no way he would reconsider entertaining everyone tomorrow night. The opportunity didn’t come around that often. He knew that June and Amber had great affection for Kelly. He hadn’t detected a sniff of resentment from either one; in fact they had a lot in common: they were all strong women with definitive opinions they weren’t afraid to vocalise, and they were all childless, for a start.
He was looking forward to seeing Josie too. Now it was time for him to prepare.
Chapter 15
Kelly and Will studied the CCTV footage when they got back to the office. There were two cameras situated not far from Wordsworth Towers and the data controller for Penrith Council had readily handed over the files. As expected, most of the male figures around the estate wore hoodies and bandannas covering their faces, but Will seemed to know a thing or two about the more prominent characters hanging about.
‘When I worked patrol, I was partnered with my old schoolmate,’ he explained to Kelly.
‘You still keep in touch?’
‘Of course. He ribs me about being out of uniform now and I wind him up about being still in it.’
‘What does he do?’
‘He heads up patrol for that area; he’s Sergeant Liam Brook now.’
‘Impressive. He must be good at his job.’
‘The best. He’s got plenty of informants, but not surprisingly, he’s not that keen to hand them over.’
‘I understand. It’s tricky, but we could come to some sort of mutually beneficial arrangement.’
‘That’s what I said to him.’
‘You discussed it already?’
‘Kind of. These two look like the main players: the Cotton brothers. They haven’t been round here long – they’re from Lancashire originally – but they dominated pretty quickly, and they’re fairly brutal.’
‘How do you know all this?’
‘Liam and I talk. He’s my best mate. I’d die for him and him for me. We went through some stuff, you know?’
Kelly was taken aback by Will’s candour, as well as impressed with his emotional disclosure. Not many men would readily admit this kind of respect and love for another man. She didn’t ask what the ‘stuff’ was they’d been through together.
‘So he gives you the low-down on the local thugs? Why are you so interested?’
Will didn’t answer straight away, and she thought she’d leave it, not wanting to pry, but he’d stoked her curiosity.
‘Can I meet him?’
‘Of course. He’s a top bloke. I know he’s on duty today because he asked me to ring him when I’d looked at the footage. Can he see it?’
‘Why don’t you give him a buzz and see if he’s free now?’
Will nodded and walked away from her desk with his mobile phone. Kelly went to check on the rest of her team, who were working tirelessly on leads for both murders. It had been a shock for everyone coming into work this morning to face a second murder. She’d briefed them about the coroner’s findings when she and Will got back from Potton Pond. It was a double-edged sword of a meeting: on the upside, they had two knives from the pond that were being examined in the lab; on the downside, they had two sets of perps, judging by the coroner’s initial assessment that the MOs were too different to be connected.
Rob had come up trumps with his mapping of the area and was busy adding information to it. He showed her how it could be used with the whiteboard in the incident room. Emma was on site at Keira Bradley’s flat, chatting to the forensic team, who’d finished at the Watson home earlier. Initial reports indicated that Ella Watson had been an average housewife who stuck to her routines and had no skeletons in her closet. In fact, she came across as too perfect. Two worlds had collided and Kelly could find no explanation for it.
Kate threw herself into the mammoth task of reading every single witness statement pouring in from the estate and the park, and deciding which nuggets of information to prioritise. She had at least three sightings of the Cotton brothers, and a statement had come in about a shop owner who’d been beaten up this morning, shortly after Keira’s death. The wife of the man, who was still in a coma, had pointed the finger at the brothers.
Will came back into the office and told her that Liam was on his way. He was based with the drug squad on the other side of town. Drug crime was as extensive, if not more so, than all serious crime put together and tended to be investigated by an army of specially trained uniforms, with the support of patrol squads. Liam Brook had been heading up a unit over there for the past three years; Kelly had looked him up.
‘Time for a coffee, then,’ she said. They walked back to her office.
When Sergeant Brook arrived, Kelly was taken by his size. He was of similar build to Rob, but more than that, he seemed to fill the room with a sense of purpose to get things done. Will introduced them.
‘I’ve heard a lot about you, ma’am.’
Kelly glanced at Will, who looked a little star-struck: he obviously worshipped this guy, and again she wondered what had brought them together and soldered the bond. She caught Emma gazing at the new arrival and smiled to herself.
Sergeant Brook had an open face and very large hands. She thought he’d rip her arm off when they shook hands, but in fact he was gentle.
‘Nothing too bad, I hope,’ she said.
‘The opposite.’
‘We’ve made coffee.’ She left her office door open and they each took a seat. Kelly poured a cup of coffee for Brook.
‘So, Sergeant, can you share with me what you know about the Beacon Estate?’
‘Straight to the point. I’ve heard that about you.’
She saw Will watching them; he seemed amused.
‘Call me Liam, ma’am, if that’s all right with you.’
‘And you’re from a different unit, so you can call me Kelly.’
Will spread his hands, as if to register the injustice. Kelly ignored it.
‘Where do I start with these lads?’ Brook said. ‘They’ve been at it for years. Our game is to clean up as much as possible without causing more damage, if you like. Sometimes it’s easier to leave someone in a position of power and influence for the good of the entirety. It’s a bit like communist Russia. Once it starts to crack, total collapse isn’t far away. Our view is that if we keep a lid on the trouble, we can work with informants to catch the big fish and not waste time charging every Tom, Dick and Harry for stealing their mam’s shopping.’
‘I get the picture,’ said Kelly.
‘The estate has been run by the Cotton brothers for three years. Before that it was scumbags of a similar ilk, and we worked with them too.’
‘You work with the Cotton brothers?’
‘Not exactly. We gather information on them, and every now and again we find out what they know. For example, the busting of the Rawlinsons in Barrow came down to evidence supplied by informants.’
‘Are they reliable? The Rawlinsons were rivals, weren’t they, so of course they were going to testify against them.’
‘But we had physical evidence too. With respect, it’s a long-term project, and they have their uses.’
‘What about the two murders?’
‘I told Will, we’ve heard nothing that would have given the heads-up on either of those.’
‘Can you bring them in and question them? They
’re implicated in a serious assault on a shopkeeper too: that’s a legitimate start.’
‘You need some leverage. If you concentrate on the physical evidence, I can work with my informants to give a fuller picture.’
‘So you won’t share your sources?’
‘I can’t do that.’
‘What if it was the Cotton brothers who did it? Your empire stands to implode; who have you got lined up to fill the gap?’
‘You’re making it sound as though we run the estate.’
‘That’s how you’re making it sound, I’m just curious about your relationship with these criminals. Is there an ongoing inquiry I don’t know about?’
‘There are several.’
‘But you won’t share that either?’
‘Like you, we report to Superintendent Ormond. He runs the show. Only he can make that decision.’
‘That’s an interesting point. Did Will tell you that Ormond is pals with the first victim’s husband?’
Liam shifted uncomfortably in his chair. He nodded. ‘He’s pals with everyone.’
‘What’s that supposed to mean?’
‘Should we look at the footage?’ Will interrupted them, but Kelly couldn’t let it go.
‘So how closely do you work with the super?’ she asked.
‘Too close.’
Kelly flinched a little. There was more than simply employee discontent in Brook’s voice. There was real malice. Clearly she wasn’t the only one Superintendent Ormond rubbed up the wrong way.
They watched the footage together. A man on a bike cycled into view. Liam rewound, stopped the film, scrunched his face, tilted his head and sighed.
‘I reckon that’s Jackson Akers.’
The clock in the corner of the screen gave the time as 6.28 a.m.
‘Estimated time of death was between five thirty and six eighteen, when the 999 call was made. What’s he doing out and about so early? He looks as though he’s on his way somewhere.’
‘He’s got no record. Keeps himself to himself. He fixes bikes and the drug squad monitor him as a runner. It’s part of a two-year inquiry. They leave him alone because they want to be led to the big boys. Possession and supply carry such small sentences now; it’s the long sentences they want.’
‘He looks relaxed,’ Will said. ‘Not as if he’s fleeing a murder scene. He’s more intent on that guy, coming into view.’
‘That’s Tyrone Fenton.’
‘Tyrone? Is his nickname something like Ding Dong?’
‘One of many. Apparently his old man was a ship’s cook in the navy, in charge of the bell. Either that or Tyrone set fire alarms off at school. No previous, either.’
Kelly noted a change in Brook’s tone but moved on.
‘They look as though they’re having a serious conversation. Tyrone seems nervous. Rewind it. Let’s watch the whole thing again,’ Kelly said.
They watched as Akers rode up to Fenton on his bike and they talked. Then a package was handed over.
‘I thought drug deals were quick. They’re obviously discussing something. Time?’
‘Six thirty-three.’
‘Wait a minute, who are these late arrivals?’
‘Looks to me like the Cotton brothers. That one is Jason, the elder. The other is Adam. The rest are hangers-on.’
‘Why do they always hide their hands?’ Kelly asked, exasperated.
‘They’re copying American gangs: they cover anything that could potentially identify them – face, hands, hair…’
‘So we have all your main players here in one piece of footage, potentially less than half an hour after Keira was killed, exchanging a package. That bag is large enough to contain clothes. Can you give me their addresses?’
‘They have several,’ Liam said. ‘But of course I’ll give you what we’ve got. I’ll obviously have to clear it with Superintendent Ormond.’
‘Really? I’m the SIO and this is a criminal investigation,’ Kelly said. She was beginning to feel as though Ormond was guilty of being a bully.
Liam put his hands up. ‘Look, you ask him. I have a hierarchy I have to go through for my own information, and it doesn’t involve Serious Crime. Covert Ops and Drugs don’t have the same rules as you.’
‘What about the old boys’ network?’ She smiled.
Will patted Liam on the back as if to say I told you so.
‘He said you weren’t likely to take no for an answer. I’ll have a few conversations this afternoon and see what we can do. Since I’m here, why don’t you show me what you’ve got and I’ll do anything I can to flesh things out?’
‘Of course. Have you heard of the Bradleys? Keira was the second victim.’
‘Yes. The family is known to us. I saw Sharon on the news, parading about. It was pretty effective, I have to say.’
‘She could prove to be a valuable asset. I’ll get DC Hide to show you around.’
Emma was more than happy to talk the sergeant through what they knew so far. After that, Kelly agreed that Will would accompany Liam back to his unit to ask a few questions. Maybe their friendship bond would work better than her charm.
Chapter 16
Superintendent Neil Ormond stared out of the window towards the menacing black rock of the peaks beyond the Penrith skyline. Yesterday the view had been marred by drizzle, but then that was what the Lake District was famous for: its unpredictability. He would have laughed at the irony had he not been so fucking outraged. The fact that the murder of a close friend’s wife could happen on his watch, on his turf, and in broad daylight was beyond infuriating; it was embarrassing, and somebody somewhere was going to pay. It had been a gargantuan mistake to cut the patrolling of the Beacon Estate: the den of iniquity and dross that it had become. Work-shy lowlifes, benefit scroungers and drug addicts filled the lifeless grey concrete towers. None of them deserved the law to fall gracefully in support of those willing to defy it so brazenly.
His heart wasn’t breaking; it had exploded. His anger was written all over his face, and people at HQ had avoided him all day. And well they might. Somebody’s head was about to roll. But first he had to seek permission to shake things up a little on the estate. It only took a visit to the chief constable’s office. She was the first woman to be cast in the role, and it galled Ormond. However, she believed in delegation and didn’t micro-manage, so his division – Serious Crime – was left alone. The only time she’d stepped on his toes was when the press was breathing heavily on them to find a serial killer. It was only to be expected. She liked the camera and enjoyed giving press releases. She’d handled a school shooting back in 2013 and done a fine job of it, naturally commanding in front of the camera.
He argued that inaction might send a strong message to the population of the Beacon Estate that murder was not just acceptable, it was positively encouraged. She gave her blessing for him to go ahead with a series of raids on addresses across the estate, as a joint exercise with the drug squad.
He spent the best part of two hours designing the outline of a manoeuvre with the intention of smoking out the rats. It was time the network of coppers’ narks got a shake-up. He spoke to the transport section leader in Penrith and there were enough vehicles to put together a sufficient number of personnel to go and teach the estate a lesson. Porter might be unhappy about the fact that two women had been killed by thugs intent on owning a part of Britain that had given up, but she would soon realise that her nose for investigating wasn’t required in this situation. What was needed was somebody to make a statement; set an example. It never crossed his mind to inform her of his intentions.
He owed something to Thomas, and he owed it to Ella. The second killing had played right into his hands, proving that nothing would change unless they made some arrests and sent a message of zero tolerance to those responsible. The reprehensible monsters who’d murdered Ella had to pay, and somebody knew who and where they were. He’d had to stand in Thomas’s house and admit that he hadn’t been able to protect his w
ife because the Beacon Estate was lawless. It was shameful, and he wasn’t about to sit here any longer and let it happen again.
The drug squad had its own way of dealing with issues: they sat and watched and did nothing, and it wasn’t the first time he’d blamed them for a cock-up. He believed that if they did their job properly, all criminals would be facing charges, not just the ones they saw fit. The so-called sexy ones who grabbed headlines.
He put the last-minute touches to his plan and then beckoned the two officers into his office. Anyone listening along the corridors, or even outside, could be forgiven for thinking that someone was being beaten senseless. Ormond had learned to shout on the streets of Glasgow. He hadn’t had reason to call on that particular skill for many years, but his bullish reserve sat just under the surface and he had no problem making his intentions clear.
By the time the two officers left, they were under no illusions about their objectives for the afternoon. Being old buddies, they knew exactly what the gaffer wanted. They were used to working directly under him, but they also harboured a deep distaste for the man asking them to head up what was essentially a hostile takeover.
‘He’s lost his shit this time,’ Liam said.
‘Did you notice that he made it all about Ella Watson and didn’t even mention Keira Bradley?’ replied Will.
‘He doesn’t give a fuck about people on the estate, just his own kind.’
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