Riddled on the Sands (The Lakeland Murders)

by Salkeld, J J

  ‘Nobby knows nowt. Bloody kids are up ‘til all hours round here. They don’t go to school, see, some of them.’

  ‘So you think it was kids?’

  ‘Maybe. Fireman’s top man said he thought it might have been electrical. But I don’t now, do I? I was spark out, like. Clear conscience, that’s why.’

  ‘Why might you have been targeted?’

  ‘How do you mean, targeted?’

  ‘Well, there are plenty of other garages, aren’t there? Plus sheds and what-not. So why would they choose yours to torch? Have you fallen out with anyone lately?’

  ‘Me? No way. Bloody heart of the community, me.’

  Jane looked doubtful, and Gary noticed.

  ‘What, don’t believe me? Sheila, get in here, love.’

  When she came in Sheila looked as if she’d had no sleep, and Jane found herself regretting knocking.

  ‘You tell her. Have we got any enemies?’

  ‘Enemies?’

  ‘Aye, enemies. Anyone who’d want to set our garage on fire, like.’

  ‘Don’t be daft. Electrical fault it was, wasn’t it?’

  ‘Aye, that’s what I said. No-one would do that to us.’

  When one of the kids appeared at the door, grabbed her mum’s leg and half hid behind it, Jane started to feel really guilty. And she very nearly didn’t ask her final question.

  ‘So, Gary, have you been up to any of your old tricks lately?’

  He didn’t answer, but gestured to his wife, who picked up the child and left the room.

  ‘What’s that got to do with anything?’

  ‘Have you? We all know you, Gary. A bit of bottom-feeder, pushing to kids I’ll bet.’

  ‘Bollocks. I’ve never supplied kids with anything, not even a bit of dope. Ask anyone, they’ll tell you. And I’ve not been in trouble for ages. I’m a family man.’

  ‘Your last conviction was only nine months ago, Gary.’

  ‘Like I said, ages. Now if you don’t mind I’d like to get a bit of shut eye.’

  ‘Of course. But you don’t mind if I have a look at your garage, or what’s left of it?’

  ‘Why would you want to do that? There’s nowt out there but mess. It’ll probably be ages before the Housing Association comes round and takes it away. Bloody useless, they are. Always late cutting the grass round here, they are. I don’t know how many times I’ve phoned up about it.’

  ‘Have you thought about doing it yourself?’

  ‘You what? With what, like? Bloody mower was in the garage, weren’t it? And anyway, it was bust.’

  Jane smiled. ‘I’m just going to have a look round, then I’ll be on my way, all right?’

  ‘And if it’s not all right?’

  Jane looked back at him and said nothing. It wasn’t like Gary to make a fuss. He knew how the game was played, she’d say that for him. For the first time since she’d knocked on the door Jane felt that her time might not have been entirely wasted.

  ‘Aye, all right then’ he said eventually. ‘But don’t touch anything, mind. And the fire boys said it’s not safe to go inside. It might collapse at any minute.’ He paused. ‘So on second thoughts, you be my guest DC Francis. Do go where you like, love.’

  Jane took her time when she was outside. If nothing else it would annoy Gary O’Brian, who she was certain was watching her from the upstairs bathroom. But he was right, the garage did look like it might collapse at any moment. The roof timbers looked heavy, and the whole thing seemed to be leaning to one side. It wasn’t worth taking any risks.

  So from the outside Jane tried to make out what the contents of the garage were, but the firemen had given everything a thorough soaking. She could see a big old bench down one side of the garage, pretty charred but recognisable, but no sign of the kids’ bikes.

  She walked round the side of the garage and looked at the door. It seemed solid and old, but there was a big, hefty padlock on it. Jane walked up to it, and gave it a tug. It looked very new, and a bit over-the-top to protect a couple of kids’ bikes. As Jane turned to leave she was almost certain that she saw the bathroom curtain move.

  Three hours later Ian Mann was sitting in Superintendent Val Gorham’s office with Andy Hall. It wasn’t turning out to be as bad as he expected.

  ‘So you’re saying that someone shot Jack Bell’s tractor, and presumably him as well, with a military assault weapon of some kind?’ asked Gorham.

  ‘Possibly assault weapons plural ma’am’ replied Mann. ‘Sandy Smith and her crew are still sifting through mountains of sand, but we’ve got ten slugs now, and given where they were found on the tractor they were either fired in two bursts and either the shooter or the tractor moved between the bursts, or we’re looking at two simultaneous bursts from different weapons. We won’t know for sure until ballistics have done their work.’

  ‘No chance that the bullets had been there for ages I suppose?’

  ‘No, Sandy is quite sure about that. She says she can’t say for absolute certain that it was Friday, but she can say it wasn’t more than a few days ago. No signs of corrosion at all, she says. But she can confirm that the bullets hit before the tide washed over the tractor for the first time.’

  ‘No sign of the body?’

  ‘No ma’am. Coastguard says they’re surprised.’

  ‘I’m not’ said Hall. ‘We have to assume that Bell was killed out on the Bay, and we have to assume that he died of a bullet wound, and more likely multiple wounds. If I was the killer and I had a vehicle, whether a 4x4, boat, hovercraft, helicopter or whatever it was, I’d uplift the body, weigh it down, and get rid of it further out in the Bay. The killer or killers probably couldn’t get rid of the tractor that night, and anyway they probably wouldn’t want to.’

  ‘Why not, Andy?” asked Gorham.

  ‘Because they knew we’d find the tractor, and that it would support accidental death as the cause of Bell’s disappearance.’

  ‘Yes, but what about all the bullet holes?’

  ‘They’d have known that the tractor would be under water long before we even started looking for it’ said Hall. ‘If it hadn’t been for Ian’s outstanding Police work we’d never even have recovered the tractor, let alone subjected it to forensic examination. There’s no other evidence on or around the tractor, Ian?’

  ‘Not so far.’

  Hall nodded. ‘I wonder if it might be worth having the area around where we found the tractor examined, maybe with metal detectors.’

  ‘Maybe’ said Mann. ‘The Coastguard has the exact GPS co-ordinates of where the tractor was found, so we could make a guess as to where any shooters would have been standing. But as to finding any physical evidence, like shell cases, I’d have thought there’s sod all chance.’

  ‘Did you take any pictures of the tractor before it was moved?’

  ‘I did, aye.’

  ‘Excellent.’

  Gorham interrupted. ‘So we’re upgrading this to a murder enquiry then, are we, Andy? That’s your recommendation?’

  ‘Absolutely. I’d like to begin a level two enquiry ma’am, because of the level of violence deployed in this instance. I know we don’t have a body, and like I say my guess is that we’ll never get one, but we do know that someone has been firing an automatic assault weapon on our patch. I called firearms before I came down here, ma’am, and they’ve no record of that kind of weapon being discharged in the county in recent times, nor have we recovered any.’

  ‘Level two? You’re talking about a big team, Andy.’

  ‘I think the seriousness of the case demands it.’

  ‘Agreed, but I’m wondering if you could manage with a smaller team? We could log it as a level three, for costing purposes, but I’d let the Chief know that we’re treating it as a level two.’

  ‘Perhaps it might be worth talking through our resource needs and investigative plan at this point then, ma’am. This is obviously an unusual case. That might help you form a settled view.’

&nbs
p; ‘Yes, but I do expect you to write it up in the normal way, and today please.’

  Hall inclined his head. There was no point discussing which came first, the investigation or the form-filling, because he already knew the answer.

  ‘I’d like to mobilise whatever forces we can lay our hands on - our coppers, Lancashire’s, Coastguard, rescue services, maybe even the military - to sweep the coast from Fleetwood to St Bees at low tide today, with eyeball inspections of the same locations at each low tide thereafter for a number of days. I’ve already asked Jane, DC Francis, to make contact with an academic at Lancaster University who seems to know all about the tidal patterns.’

  ‘Agreed’ said Gorham. ‘What else?’

  ‘I’ll come back to the victim and possible suspects and witnesses in a second, but I’d also like every slipway and access point, for a boat or a vehicle, to be checked out. I’m thinking north Lancashire coast and the whole Bay area.’

  Gorham nodded. ‘How many additional bodies do you need for the usual enquiries?’

  ‘I’ll need half a dozen uniforms for the door-to-door in Flookburgh, for two days, with Ian supervising and following up on the ground. I’d like DC Francis to do all the background on Jack Bell and his family, and Ray Dixon to look at this Pete Capstick character, plus anyone else who might look like a suspect.’

  Gorham nodded. ‘Very well, but we will classify as a level three for now. I will take care of the inter-force and agency co-ordination personally. So, what do your instincts tell you, gentlemen?’

  Hall looked across at Ian Mann, and gestured for him to reply first.

  ‘Well, I don’t see Jack Bell being mixed up in anything that involves heavy artillery, ma’am. His only previous is for a bit of poaching, and he’s always been a bit of an activist, but only trying to keep the fishing industry going, and looking after the local environment. So I’m guessing that he’ll come up clean, suggesting that he was probably just in the wrong place at the wrong time.’

  Gorham looked at Hall. He made a non-committal gesture. ‘That’s certainly possible, but it’s a bit early to say. I certainly wouldn’t want to close off any lines of enquiry at this stage. What about this Capstick bloke then, Ian?’

  ‘He was nervous and upset when me and Ray spoke to him, but you’d expect that, wouldn’t you? We’ll see, but as to him either shooting Jack, or being mixed up with the kind of people who would, then that doesn’t seem likely. Sorry.’

  ‘No. I’m with you’ said Hall. ‘He’s got no previous, beyond the usual poaching and a couple of minor motoring things, and the local bobby hasn’t heard any whispers to suggest he’s up to anything.’

  ‘Who have we got on the ground out there?’ asked Gorham.

  ‘Local bobby is Jan Wilding’ replied Hall. ‘There’s a Sergeant at Grange but he’s pretty new too, still getting to know the patch. Jan lives in a Police house in the next village, and seems to be well-liked locally, but she is still a young and inexperienced officer. So how much she’d pick up, or people would tell her, I’m not sure.’

  Gorham pursed her thin lips until they almost disappeared. ‘We’ve lost a lot of experience lately, I’ll grant you that.’

  ‘On that point, ma’am’ said Hall, sensing his opportunity. ‘I was wondering if it might be possible for me to ask Geoff Atkinson to help us out, maybe even come in and work with us here?’

  ‘Who is he? A former officer? You know my views on this, Andy. We can’t afford any consultants, and I don’t believe that we need any.’

  ‘I understand, but Geoff comes from the village, he still lives there in fact, and he was a good copper. Very good in fact, if a bit old school. He retired a few months back, before you took over, and he was the Sergeant at Grange. He’d be really useful, I’m sure of it.’

  ‘I don’t know.’

  ‘What if he’d work for free?’

  ‘Why would he do that?’

  ‘Like I say, he was a good copper, and this is his community. He knew Jack Bell too, knew him his whole life. I’m sure he’d want to help us on this.’

  Gorham looked annoyed. ‘So you’ve already spoken to former Sergeant Atkinson?’

  ‘Just a general chat, ma’am. No promises, no agreements.’

  Gorham didn’t look convinced. ‘And he didn’t retire under a cloud?’

  ‘Disciplinary, you mean? No, absolutely not, his record was as clean as a whistle. He just had his years in, and they made him walk the plank. No pun intended. And with this being classified as a level 3, well, we can do with all the help we can get.’

  Gorham smiled. ‘Are you playing me here, Andy? If so, nicely done. Very well, if he’s willing to work for expenses, at the usual rate mind, then bring him on board. But he’s your personal responsibility, Inspector. Is that quite clear? So keep a proper eye on him.’

  ‘Will do, ma’am.’ Hall paused, and when Gorham didn’t say anything else he picked up his pad. ‘Come on Ian, we’d better get on with it.’

  ‘Before you go’ said Gorham quickly. ‘I just wanted to say well done, Sergeant. This enquiry is the product of some excellent, committed Police work. I know that we’ve had our differences in the past, but I wanted you to know that I intend to add a note to your file today, making clear my admiration for your work to date, even if it looks as if the enquiry is going to cost us an absolute fortune.’

  ‘Long way to go yet, ma’am’ Mann mumbled.

  ‘That’s what I’m afraid of. So let’s hope for a nice, quick result, shall we?’

  When they were back in Hall’s office, but before Jane and Dixon arrived, Mann asked, ‘Are you sure about Geoff?’

  ‘Yes, why shouldn’t I be?’

  ‘I heard he’s been drinking, you know, since he left the job.’

  ‘Wouldn’t be the first time that happened, would it, mate? This will give him a bit of focus, make him feel useful.’

  ‘It’s not supposed to be therapy, boss.’

  ‘Point taken, but he’ll be a huge help, you’ll see. And God knows we’re short-handed enough as it is. You heard what Gorham was like just now. She’d downgrade it to ABH if she thought she could get away with it.’

  ‘Aye, fair enough. You know best.’

  ‘Very rarely, possibly never. And I meant to say I’ll show my gratitude in the form of a few beers when this is all over, but you really done have a brilliant job to get us this far. I really think that’s the most brilliant bit of detective work I’ve ever come across.’ Mann looked unconvinced, fearing a wind-up, and Hall spotted it. ‘No, honestly, I mean it. But be honest, had you spotted one of those slugs when you were out there?’

  Mann was pleased now, but had no intention of showing it. ‘No, of course not. That museum piece of a tractor was half buried in sand when we got there, it was all a total mess. And I’ll tell you the truth, Andy. When those lads were all bitching about digging the bloody thing out and dragging it all the way back to the shore I very nearly told them to stop.’

  ‘Why didn’t you?’

  ‘Because I’m an awkward bugger, that’s why.’

  Hall didn’t leave his office until after 10pm. He was exhausted, but at least the investigation was properly underway. Far out in Morecambe Bay the sea had long since ceased its retreat, and was rushing back towards the shore in the dusk. All around the Bay beaches, inlets and foreshores had been searched, and the last of the searchers were heading for home. There was still no sign of Jack Bell’s body, and Hall had no expectation that he would turn up. He hated having to go to PMs, and even reading the reports made him queasy, so it wasn’t all bad news.

  When he did reach over and turn off his desk light he felt the tiredness wash over him, and he just sat there in the half-dark. Ten years ago he wouldn’t have felt like this. When he walked out into the open office only Ian and Jane were still there.

  ‘I’m off home, Jane.’

  ‘I’m going to do another hour. See you in the morning, yeah?’

  ‘OK. Fine. See you
then.’

  In a way he felt disappointed that Jane wasn’t coming back to his house that night, but he was slightly relieved too. And Hall knew that until this case was over there’d be little room anywhere in his mind or his heart for anything beyond this case, and his kids. He wondered briefly if Jane knew that, too.

  Jane worked on until she found herself reading the same sentence three times, and still not understanding it. The station was Christmas Day-quiet when she left. But as Jane slept, in a garage on a lane behind Greenside, a fire was taking hold. It started among the electronics, then through the hanging rails of clothes, and by the time it reached the books it was laying waste to everything that it touched.

  Because the garage was detached the fire didn’t spread, but by the time the fire engines turned up the job was one of containment, and when dawn broke all that was left was a concrete pad and a few blackened beams from the roof. Everything else had been consumed.

  ‘Fuck’ said John Perkins to neighbour, who was standing next to him in his dressing gown.

  ‘You are insured, though?’

  Perkins vaguely remembered that the bloke had worked for Provincial Insurance years before.

  ‘No. I can cover it myself.’

  ‘How much did you lose?’

  ‘If the taxman’s asking, ten grand.’

  ‘And if I’m asking?’

  Perkins turned round. He was too trusting, that was his trouble.

  ‘Still ten grand’ he said, and walked back up the path to his house, feeling the water squelching in his slippers.

  ‘At least those bastard coppers will have to take me seriously now’ he said to his mother, who was looking at the garage from the kitchen window.

  ‘How much did we lose?’

  ‘Nothing I can’t make up, don’t you worry.’

  ‘How much?’

  ‘Cost or retail?’

  ‘Cost.’

  ‘About thirty grand. I’ve started buying stock for Christmas, you know, while stuff’s cheap. Good business, that is.’