Death By Dangerous

by Death By Dangerous (epub)

  Her mind wandered. Thoughts of her brother, Bahdoon. It made her sad. She’d seen him that morning, as she did every month. Anything more was too painful, watching his life waste away. Each visit, he seemed a little more detached, his eyes a little more lifeless. She’d preferred the rage and resentment of the early years of his sentence. Now there was only resignation.

  A light came on in the upstairs bedroom. The man who had arrived in a taxi an hour earlier clearly wasn’t going anywhere. Adey couldn’t wait all night, she was freezing. Time to make a move.

  She slipped silently through the hedge and across the lawn. Effortlessly, she shinned up a drainpipe and onto the garage roof, then padded over to the window and peeked through the gap allowed by the curtains.

  Adey wanted to giggle − a woman on all fours, on a bed. Velvet-covered handcuffs attached her to the bedposts. Mia Anderson was a handsome woman, with a firm body. At thirty-five she definitely still had it.

  ‘Fuck me,’ she snarled repeatedly to the man kneeling behind her, thrusting with all his might.

  Only able to see part of his face, Adey didn’t recognise him. She couldn’t risk a photo − the flash might reveal her presence.

  Did Anderson fuck Mia like that? She quickly dismissed the thought. No man had managed to get close to Adey Tuur, and John Anderson certainly wasn’t going to be the exception.

  Chapter 40

  Anderson had been looking forward to this day all week. Even Mia’s indifference couldn’t dampen his spirits. Their conversation on the doorstep went no further than a succession of orders concerning the boys’ care and return.

  They took the train from Wilmslow, changing at Crewe for Chester. He’d never spent a full day alone with his children before. It seemed crazy to him now. How did he let that happen?

  Today Anderson felt alive – even happy. For a few hours he forgot about the case. Will and Angus were giddy with excitement. Their first visit to the zoo.

  The reticence of the larger animals to come out of their cosy retreats into the chill of the open air didn’t spoil the fun, it became a source of amusement. Anderson hadn’t enjoyed himself so much in years. He’d missed out on all this, and for what? Bigger cases and longer hours. Why had it all been so important to him? Was it just his father’s expectations, drilled into him from an early age? A poor substitute for love?

  Angus was mesmerised by the chimpanzees. ‘Mum says that’ll be you soon.’

  ‘What do you mean?’ Anderson asked, studying his son’s pained expression.

  ‘In a cage, locked up.’

  No point denying it. For the first time, he considered it as a real possibility. His children had to prepare for the worst. ‘I don’t know yet, Angus, but if I do get locked up, I will think about you every day until they let me out.’

  ‘Have you done something very bad? Is that why they want to lock you up?’

  Will watched his father intently. The boys needed answers just as much as Anderson.

  ‘I can’t remember what happened. I really can’t.’ He put his hand on his chest. ‘But I know in here, in my heart, that I didn’t do anything wrong.’

  ‘I believe you, Dad,’ Will whispered.

  ‘So do I,’ said Angus.

  What a fool he’d been. Priorities all wrong. He knelt down and hugged them. Was it too late to make things right?

  They decided to finish the outing with a ride on the monorail that weaved its way around the zoo above the enclosures. Angus pointed out the black rhinos and lions below, once they’d set off from monkey island. ‘Who’s that, Daddy?’

  Anderson’s eyes searched the path below where Will was pointing. A man in a woolly hat waving up at them. Anderson tried to make out the face – disfigured. Tredwell!

  Tredwell pointed directly at them with his hand shaped into a gun, then moved his arm as if firing it.

  Angus laughed and fired back.

  Will sensed something wasn’t right. ‘I don’t like that man, Dad. I want to go home.’

  Anderson quickly shepherded the children out of the zoo, checking around them on their journey back. Will kept asking about the man with the strange face. Anderson made light of it, saying he was just a crazy old fool. What was he doing there? Was it a coincidence or had he been following them? And what could he have against the barrister who prosecuted the man that caused his horrendous injuries?

  He decided not to mention it to Mia. Why worry her? No point overreacting. The kids couldn’t be in any danger. He’d wait until he knew more.

  Once he’d dropped them off he rang Hussain, who told him to come to his house in Longsight after he’d reported the matter to the police. A record had to be made.

  Anderson called in at the police station and asked for DI Taylor, who couldn’t have been more disinterested. Only after a great deal of persuasion did he formally record the matter. The detective inspector tried to convince him it had been an unfortunate coincidence and a bad joke.

  Privately, Taylor wondered whether this was a clever ruse by Anderson to blame everything on Tredwell, and to prove to the jury threats had been made, but he agreed to investigate. A part of him couldn’t help but feel sorry for Anderson. He took no pleasure in destroying the life and career of a decent family man over a few seconds of bad driving. That wasn’t why he’d joined the force all those years ago.

  It was after nine o’clock by the time Anderson arrived at Hussain’s house. An end terrace on three floors, extended at the back, it had a warm, lived-in feel. Hussain’s wife insisted on preparing some food.

  Anderson didn’t protest.

  Hussain showed him into the lounge where they sat down and analysed Tredwell’s actions. Anderson was at a loss to understand them.

  ‘Maybe he blames you for Ahmed’s acquittal?’ suggested Hussain. ‘If you hadn’t crashed your car, Ahmed would be inside.’

  Anderson wasn’t convinced. ‘He’d have to be crazy to think like that.’

  ‘He is.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘He’s been in and out of psychiatric institutions all his life. Got a history of schizophrenia.’

  ‘How do you know that? Don’t tell me you accessed his medical records?’

  Hussain scoffed. ‘Never mind that. You should’ve disclosed it!’

  ‘I didn’t know!’

  ‘I’m sure the police did. They probably didn’t tell you because you would’ve disclosed.’

  ‘What else didn’t I know?’ asked Anderson.

  ‘Quite a lot actually. Tredwell was a very manipulative and mysterious figure. The whole Naila story was bullshit.’

  ‘Really? What about the 999 call?’

  ‘Who knows? One of the girls probably saw what was going on at the Kashmiri Palace, or overheard what was going to happen and saw an opportunity to get her captors arrested. Whoever she was, she disappeared because we couldn’t trace her. And anyway, Martin Tredwell isn’t into women.’

  ‘How do you know?’

  ‘Adey hacked into his email account.’

  ‘What? You didn’t! That’s an outrageous breach of data protection legislation!’

  ‘Yeah,’ Hussain replied matter-of-factly. ‘That’s why we couldn’t use it in the trial.’ He decided not to divulge anything else until Anderson asked. He didn’t have to wait long.

  ‘Well go on then, what did she find out?’

  ‘Tredwell is into boys. A paedophile. Grooming and file sharing with other sickos.’

  Anderson took a moment to digest the latest revelations. ‘So, are you saying Waqar Ahmed is innocent?’

  ‘No, I’m sure he shoved Tredwell’s face in that fryer, but it was more likely an argument between business partners. Tredwell wasn’t a joey, he was much more involved in the trafficking than he let on.’

  ‘So we add him to our list of suspects?’

  ‘Yes. Trouble is, he’s in witness protection. Not even Adey would be able to locate him.’

  Safa came in and guided Anderson to the
kitchen table where she had placed an assortment of Indian dishes. Anderson helped himself to some lamb keema and a roti. The first decent meal he’d eaten for a long time.

  Hussain sat in silence, watching him devour the feast. Once he’d finished, Hussain broke the bad news. ‘I’ve got the experts’ reports, John. They found nothing. No sleep disorder. No evidence of a seizure or anything medical.’

  Anderson took it in. ‘And the accident investigator?’

  ‘Not good. Everything is consistent with sleep. The drifting, no braking, et cetera. I can’t serve any of our reports. They’re all damning. I’ll just have to cross-examine the prosecution experts, see what I can turn up.’

  Anderson felt deflated. They still didn’t have the slightest foundation for a defence.

  ‘We’ve also got the problem of Sandra Granger,’ Hussain added. ‘I’m going to have to put it to her that she’s either lying or mistaken.’

  Anderson puffed out his cheeks. ‘The jury won’t like that.’

  ‘What else can I do?’ Hussain’s mobile rang. ‘Excuse me, a client.’ He left the room to take the call.

  Anderson and Safa exchanged nervous smiles in the way people do when virtual strangers are left alone in a room together. Despite her generosity, Anderson sensed resentment. A feeling she didn’t want him there. Perhaps something needed saying?

  ‘I’m so grateful to Tahir for defending me. I was never very nice to him, you know?’ Anderson’s sense of shame was obvious. ‘I can’t understand why he is doing so much to help me. He’s a good man.’ Anderson noticed a photo on the dresser. The whole family: Mum, Dad, two girls and a boy. He remembered seeing the girls with Hussain on the day of the crash. ‘I didn’t know you had a son too?’

  The question caught her by surprise.

  Hussain’s reappearance diverted their attention.

  ‘There’s something you need to know, John,’ said Hussain. ‘It’s a bit delicate.’

  Safa took her cue to leave the room.

  Anderson was intrigued.

  ‘It’s about Mia,’ Hussain said gently.

  ‘Go on.’

  ‘She’s seeing someone.’

  ‘What? Who?’

  ‘I don’t know. Adey saw her with someone. She didn’t recognise him.’

  ‘How does she know they are actually seeing each other?’

  ‘They were having sex.’

  Anderson stared at Hussain in disbelief.

  ‘Adey was on your garage roof, looking through the window.’

  Anderson placed a hand on his forehead. ‘Why was Adey there?’

  ‘As part of her investigations. Whoever this man is, he has to be considered a suspect.’

  Anderson’s mouth was dry. Mia with another man? So soon after the split? ‘What did he look like?’

  ‘Couldn’t say. Her view wasn’t great. We’ll find out soon enough, John. I’m sorry.’

  Anderson was shell-shocked. In no mood for further discourse, he left.

  He didn’t know his wife at all.

  Chapter 41

  DC Waters parked up outside Taylor’s house. He knew better than to knock on the front door. Taylor emerged with a Yorkshire pudding held between his teeth. Struggling against the wind to pull his coat on, he hurried down the path.

  Waters leaned across and opened the car door. ‘Sorry, gov.’

  Taylor got in, took a bite, then cupped the remaining half, careful not to let the gravy drip onto his clothes. ‘This better be good, Waters. First time the kids have seen me for a week.’

  ‘It’s Martin Tredwell, he’s gone AWOL.’

  ‘Not this again.’

  ‘Witness protection haven’t had any contact for five days. They went round to the Stockport safe house after I called in Anderson’s complaint about the zoo. He’s gone. Packed a bag.’

  ‘Bloody marvellous. That’s all I need. More time-wasting. He’s got nowt to do with the death by dangerous. Not our problem.’

  ‘I know but they say there’s stuff at the house you ought to see.’

  Taylor huffed. ‘All right, let’s go.’

  Waters started the engine and used the back of his hand to make a cursory wipe of the condensation on the windscreen.

  Once Taylor had swallowed the last bite: ‘What else do we know?’

  ‘Very little, gov. Witness protection are concerned that the bloke he grassed on in the trial has caught up with him.’

  ‘What’s his name? Ahmed?’

  ‘Yeah, Waqar Ahmed. But they’ve got nothing on him.’

  ‘What do we know about Tredwell?’

  ‘Some mental health issues – clever though. NCIS say he likes kids. Sexual violence but never been caught for it. Even though he got a suspended sentence in the Ahmed trial, apparently he took the defendant’s acquittal very badly. As always happens, he blamed the lawyers.’

  The safe house was in fact a flat on the fifteenth floor of a council block minutes from the centre of Stockport.

  ‘Surprised he was prepared to be so near home,’ said Taylor as they came out of the lift.

  ‘He insisted apparently.’

  A middle-aged man wearing a cheap grey suit answered the door. ‘Hello, gents, thanks for coming. Bob Smith, witness protection. I would shake hands, but…’ He raised his arms to show a pair of yellow marigolds. He went into the lounge, tied up a black bin bag, tossed it in the corner, then took off the rubber gloves. ‘Just cleaning up for the next unfortunate.’

  ‘Already?’ said Taylor.

  ‘Resources, you know the score. A lot of witnesses and very few properties. He broke the rules so someone else gets it. Thought you’d better see this, before I take ’em down.’ He opened the bedroom door.

  Taylor and Waters stepped inside. Photographs covered every inch of wall space, ceiling included. All of children.

  ‘We think he printed them off on that,’ said Smith, pointing to a PC and printer.

  Taylor took a closer look at the walls. Some of the pictures made him wretch. Mutilated bodies, in the throes of an agonising death. ‘Jesus, are these mocked up?’

  ‘Dunno yet. I bloody hope so.’

  Taylor exchanged glances with Waters, conveying a mutual understanding that there was always something new to chill the bones of even the most experienced police officers. Waters picked up a pile of photos by the computer. ‘Did Tredwell take them himself?’

  ‘Well, we know most of them are just files other nonces trade and share on the net. The paedophile unit had a quick look. They recognised half of them, but not those,’ he said, pointing to the bundle in Waters’ hand.

  Taylor took them and sifted through. Unsuspecting children outside a school, some in a park. ‘Do we know who any of these kids are?’

  Smith shook his head. ‘Potential victims? Who knows? With all the level 5’s on the wall, he’s high priority.’

  Taylor nodded.

  ‘All right,’ said Taylor. ‘If the paedophile unit catch up with him, let us know, but he’s not actually part of our enquiry.’ Forcing himself to take one last look at the walls, Taylor said, ‘Which means my chief would go ape if I spent any time on this.’

  ‘Understood,’ Smith replied. ‘Will do.’

  Chapter 42

  Taylor met Adey Tuur at the front desk. He was taken aback by her beauty. A real stunner. He wasn’t fooled by her unconventional appearance. A legally trained defendant was bound to have clever lawyers, even if she did wear jeans and baseball boots to work.

  ‘You’re late,’ she said. ‘I’ve been waiting for nearly an hour.’

  Preoccupied with his mobile, Taylor replied, ‘I’m sorry. Something came up.’

  Adey scoffed. She noticed his tie had gravy stains and didn’t match the shirt. A contented family man who’d long since given up on making an effort, she thought.

  Taylor took her back through the secure entrance and down a corridor and left her in a room with a chair and a desk. He returned a few minutes later carrying a cardboard
box. ‘All the unused is in here. Put anything you want to one side and I’ll photocopy it for you. Just text me when you’re done.’

  Adey rummaged through the pile of documents and other items, which were in sealed bags. She found nothing of interest: custody record, transcripts of 999 calls, medical notes from the hospital in relation to Anderson’s treatment and Ms Butt’s death, and a few witness statements of people who arrived on the scene after the crash and so saw nothing of relevance. She put a few irrelevant documents to one side for copying so that Taylor would be none the wiser as to what she had really come to see. At last she found it − a plastic exhibit bag containing the possessions of the deceased. A leather handbag, purse, mobile phone, lipstick, Manchester Central Library card in the name of Heena Butt with date of birth, and a key. She took a compact out of her own bag and opened the lid. She pressed the key hard into the putty inside, creating an imprint, then replaced the key. She checked the purse: £450 in cash, nothing else. It didn’t add up. She could have been a prostitute – a lot of cash, no credit cards – but it was all too sterile. None of the usual crap: receipts, bits of paper, tissues. The bag only contained the bare essentials, as if it had just been bought or someone had deliberately tried to avoid leaving any trail. Nobody travelled without proper ID, unless for good reason. Had the prosecution based the deceased’s identity purely on a library card?

  Amongst the documents in the box was a Technocel report – an analysis of the contents of the phone. Only four numbers in the contacts. A history of traffic but only sporadically and only for the six weeks preceding the crash. It didn’t fit a typical usage pattern. Adey was intrigued. Who was this woman? She picked up the handbag again and ran her hands around the inside. Her fingers felt a bump in the lining. She turned the bag inside out. A tiny hidden pocket. She could only fit two fingers in. She pulled out a piece of paper, folded over several times. The police had clearly missed it. She unfolded the paper. Blank. She turned it over. Scrawled handwriting. Her heart skipped a beat. Someone had scribbled:

  John Anderson, Spinningfields Chambers – 05man.