The Unquiet Grave

by Steven Dunne

  ‘No.’

  ‘Then who is? And how long will we be here?’

  Brook shrugged. ‘It’s not my case, Mr Stapleton, but not long, I hope.’

  ‘Then why are you here?’

  ‘This is about Scott Wheeler, isn’t it?’ insinuated Stapleton’s wife, trying to stand.

  Her husband pushed her back down and sat himself. ‘Easy, Jen.’

  ‘Again, I don’t know,’ replied Brook truthfully, beginning to wish he hadn’t intruded.

  Appearing not to hear Brook, Stapleton said, ‘Whatever I said, I said it in the heat of the moment. It was months ago, for Christ’s sake. I wouldn’t hurt Scott, no matter how badly he let down our son.’

  ‘Don’t give them the satisfaction, Greg.’ Mrs Stapleton glared up at Brook. ‘This is typical. We’ve had to listen to the world and his wife singing the praises of that nasty little shit the last four days. He disappears and suddenly everyone thinks he’s an angel. Well, he isn’t.’ Present tense, Brook noted. ‘Scott Wheeler is a foul-mouthed little thug and if we’d known what he was like before Joshua befriended him. . .’ she sighed heavily at the floor and looked to her husband for support.

  Stapleton tightened his jaw and looked Brook full in the face. ‘We’ve lost everything, Inspector. Our boy is dead because Scott Wheeler abandoned him that night. Yes, I had some harsh words to say to Scott and his mother and I wish I hadn’t said them. But that’s all they were – words. We were devastated—’

  ‘Greg could never hurt a child,’ interrupted his wife. ‘Not even Scott Wheeler.’

  ‘And we certainly don’t know where he is or what happened to him.’ Stapleton stared defiantly at Brook. ‘Though I won’t shed any tears if. . .’ he halted, suddenly ashamed.

  ‘Your son’s killer was tried and convicted, Mr Stapleton,’ said Brook. ‘No matter how difficult, isn’t it time to move on?’

  ‘But it was Scott who put Josh in harm’s way,’ spat Stapleton’s wife, on the verge of tears. ‘That doesn’t mean. . .’

  ‘I understand,’ said Brook softly, when she couldn’t continue. ‘How about I get you a hot drink while I hurry up DS Noble?’

  Brook opened the door of his outer office and put his flask and laptop on a chair. Noble was on the phone but still managed to wave a greeting which Brook acknowledged. He’d missed Noble. Not enough to invite him out to the cottage for a drink. Not enough to arrange to meet in one of the city centre bars Noble frequented. But he’d missed him nonetheless.

  When Noble’s phone conversation was over, he stood to give Brook a lingering examination and threw in an awkward handshake for good measure.

  ‘You’re early.’

  ‘You were expecting me?’ remarked Brook.

  ‘I’ve been counting the days.’ Noble grinned. ‘Seen anyone else?’

  Brook lowered his eyes. ‘Sergeant Hendrickson was on the desk.’

  ‘But you scuttled past him so he wouldn’t see you.’

  Brook didn’t answer.

  ‘And that’s why you’re in so early,’ added Noble, with sudden realisation. ‘Avoiding people.’ He shook his head. ‘Honestly, you were making such good progress before you. . .’ he tailed off.

  ‘Before I disgraced the force,’ finished Brook, remembering the Chief Superintendent’s phrase from the summer.

  Noble laughed. ‘The force will get over it.’

  ‘I dare say,’ agreed Brook. ‘But will I?’

  ‘You’re a DI,’ said Noble. ‘You shouldn’t be worrying what clapped-out desk sergeants think about you.’

  ‘No,’ agreed Brook.

  ‘How’s your hand?’ said Noble.

  ‘It still needs ointment occasionally but it’s a lot better, thanks.’

  ‘Never seen you looking so fit,’ said Noble, still scrutinising him. ‘Suspension seems to agree with you.’

  Brook managed a thin smile. ‘Does it?’

  ‘I didn’t mean. . .’

  Brook held up his good hand. ‘I know what you meant.’

  ‘Glad to be back?’

  Brook took a deep breath. ‘Honestly, no. I hardly slept a wink last night.’

  ‘And you make it sound so unusual,’ teased Noble.

  Brook emitted his one-note laugh, insomnia contributing to his unaccustomed levity. ‘How are things with you?’

  Noble blew out his cheeks. ‘Hard. Sixteen-hour days at the moment. We could’ve used you this week.’

  ‘The Wheeler kid?’

  Noble confirmed with a dip of the eyes. ‘Even Charlton’s been coming in before eight to deal with all the garbage.’

  ‘I did offer,’ said Brook. ‘My suspension finished two months ago but Charlton insisted on medical clearance.’ He held Noble’s eye. ‘Four days now.’

  ‘Four days,’ repeated Noble. ‘Four nights.’

  Brook pursed his lips. They both knew if the first forty-eight hours passed without finding a missing child, then things were unlikely to end well.

  Noble looked at his watch and then at the door. ‘Well. . .’

  ‘You’ve cleared the Wheeler boy’s parents?’ said Brook, keeping Noble on the subject.

  ‘I think so,’ replied Noble. ‘Mum and Dad are separated and, though they’re not Charles and Camilla, they’re solid working people who’ve walked into every parent’s nightmare.’

  ‘A bit careless walking into two,’ observed Brook.

  ‘Sorry?’

  ‘Their eldest boy’s already in the system,’ said Brook.

  ‘Callum, right,’ nodded Noble. ‘Career criminal in the making.’

  ‘A chip off the old block?’

  Noble hesitated and Brook realised that he might be under orders not to discuss the case with his disgraced senior officer. Before the younger man could stumble into an evasion, Brook let him off the hook. ‘You can’t talk to me about it, John. I understand.’

  Noble sighed, coming to a decision. ‘The father’s got a cast-iron alibi so we’re looking at everyone connected with the party, all the other parents and everyone at Scott’s school. A few parents have got some minor previous, but we’re talking twocking and D and D from fifteen, twenty years ago. We look long enough we might dig out some benefit cheats but so what? There’s not a stand-out child killer anywhere on the horizon.’

  ‘You’ve widened the checks?’ asked Brook.

  ‘We’re looking into everyone, digging deeper on all male adults in the area but nobody’s jumped out at us yet.’

  ‘So you think it’s sexual.’

  ‘We don’t know.’

  ‘You’ve been through the SO Register?’

  ‘Not a sex offender within miles,’ said Noble. ‘Normanton’s a solid, working-class area, racially relaxed – everyone minds their business.’

  ‘What about leaning on Social Services?’ suggested Brook. ‘They can be slow to put clients in the frame, in case it comes back to bite them.’

  ‘I. . . we’ve done everything you would have done, sir.’

  Brook nodded. ‘I’m a bit rusty, John. What would I have done?’

  ‘You would have knocked on every door within a mile of the party, checked every resident’s background, searched every garden, every outhouse and been over every local CCTV film with a fine-tooth comb. You would check hospital records for all the kids at the party, thirty of them, going back ten years, to see if we couldn’t scare up some unseen pattern of violence in any parent likely to be on or near the scene.’

  ‘I sound like a good copper,’ smiled Brook. ‘And what would I have found?’

  ‘Nothing,’ replied Noble.

  ‘You’ve been on Facebook and—’

  ‘We’re trawling through all the social network sites and all Scott’s personal accounts. Cooper’s been monitoring Facebook, MSN, Bebo and the rest. Nothing but the usual tribute pages and nothing jumps out from the kid’s emails.’

  ‘Mobile?’ suggested Brook, getting to the end of his mental checklist.

  Noble sighed.
‘Nothing on his text or call records and he’s not on Twitter because he’s got an old model. His mum had bought him a new phone for Christmas, all the bells and whistles, including GPS, but she decided to wait until the twenty-fifth to give it to him. You can imagine how much she’s beating herself up for that decision.’

  Brook lowered his head in parental sympathy. That was the kind of ‘if only’ detail that would tear what was left of the Wheeler family to shreds when the body was found. ‘Sorry, I shouldn’t be grilling you like this.’

  Noble’s answering smile was bleak. ‘Keep your apology. It was you that taught me to challenge superiors who wouldn’t take advice just because they hadn’t thought of it themselves. And that counts double when lives are at stake. Remember?’

  ‘It rings a bell.’

  ‘“Don’t be afraid to step on toes,” you said. “Ego is the enemy of detection,” you said.’

  ‘Did I?’ laughed Brook. ‘How pompous of me.’

  ‘Maybe so but if you’ve got an angle we haven’t covered, then. . . forget Charlton and tell me now because there’s a thirteen-year-old kid out there who should be at home looking forward to Christmas.’

  Brook studied Noble for a second. ‘Soft living has made me forget how good you are at your job, John. Let me apologise for that, at least.’

  ‘Apology accepted,’ said Noble, glancing at the door then his watch.

  ‘The radio mentioned there might be a gang connection.’

  Noble spoke quickly, impatient to leave. ‘Not that we can see. A few rival crews talking some trash but that’s all it is. Scott’s not in a gang yet, which makes him a civilian. Besides, a gang wouldn’t abduct him, they wouldn’t know what to do with him. And if they’d killed him, they wouldn’t hide the body and they certainly wouldn’t be able to keep from bragging about it.’

  Brook wondered whether to broach the next subject. ‘How’s DI Ford? Good SIO?’

  ‘He’s OK,’ answered Noble, unable to meet Brook’s eyes.

  ‘Is he around?’ asked Brook innocently.

  ‘Not yet.’

  ‘He was always a good delegator,’ observed Brook, with a rare diplomatic touch.

  Noble wasn’t fooled. ‘He’s got a year left. Do you blame him?’

  ‘Not with you watching his back, John, no.’

  ‘Now I really have to. . .’

  ‘Of course,’ said Brook, stepping aside. ‘Don’t let me keep you from the Stapletons.’

  Noble froze, hand on the doorknob. He turned back to Brook, a mixture of admiration and annoyance distorting his features. ‘How do you do that? You’re back five minutes and already. . .’

  ‘I can’t lie,’ said Brook. ‘I was in the car park when you brought them in.’

  ‘And you remembered them from last year?’

  ‘No, I was out of the country when their son was murdered, remember? I recognised them from the trial in the spring.’

  ‘I’m impressed.’

  ‘Don’t be. I’d forgotten their names until I went down to Interview Two to ask if they wanted coffee.’

  Noble pursed his lips. ‘And?’

  ‘Milk and two sugars,’ replied Brook.

  ‘Sir. . .’

  ‘Bad joke,’ conceded Brook. ‘But the Stapletons seem tense, John. Should they be?’

  Noble closed the half-opened door. ‘You remember Joshua’s murder.’

  ‘A little. He was killed last Halloween, thrown off the upper floor of a derelict house in Normanton somewhere – broke his neck.’

  ‘Whitaker Road,’ said Noble, staring at his mind’s eye. ‘It wasn’t pretty. Ford picked up the case. You were away so I was assigned to him. We found the boy’s body as well as a comatose vagrant, asleep in an upstairs bedroom.’

  ‘Noel Williams,’ said Brook, remembering the radio broadcast.

  ‘That’s right. He’d been living in the house for a while.’ Noble shrugged. ‘It was an open-and-shut case. He confessed and pleaded diminished responsibility; got off with manslaughter. Case closed.’

  ‘OK,’ said Brook doubtfully. He sensed there was something else, something Noble didn’t want to tell him. ‘That doesn’t explain why the Stapletons are downstairs.’

  ‘There were some issues surrounding the death. Joshua and Scott Wheeler were thick as thieves, inseparable. They were only twelve-year-old kids but the day of the murder, somehow they persuaded their parents to be allowed out on their own to go trick or treating, on the strict understanding that they stick together.’

  ‘But they didn’t,’ said Brook.

  ‘There was an argument about something and nothing and Joshua stormed off and ended up in a filthy squat with his neck broken. After his son’s death, Greg Stapleton turned on the Wheeler boy, said his son would be alive today if Scott hadn’t abandoned him.’ Noble held out his hands. ‘Push came to shove and, just before the trial, Stapleton threatened Scott.’

  ‘He’d just lost his son, John.’

  ‘I know.’

  ‘Any parent could have an outburst like that.’

  ‘I know,’ repeated Noble. ‘No way Greg Stapleton’s going to abduct a young kid to get even for his son’s death, not after so long. Even Scott’s mum said it was ridiculous.’

  ‘But you have to look into it,’ nodded Brook.

  ‘Especially as a witness at the party, a friend, said something spooked Scott really badly. Said he was scared out of his mind just before he disappeared.’

  ‘So any reported threats have to be followed up,’ said Brook. Noble lifted a confirming eyebrow. ‘Then they’re not under arrest.’

  ‘No,’ said Noble. ‘We just need to straighten it out and tick it off as a dead end. I thought it best to bring them in early so the media wouldn’t get wind of it. At the moment, everyone in the area is looking sideways at their neighbours, not sure if they’re living next door to a child killer or a paedo. Any reports about the Stapletons being brought in and they’ll be. . .’ he cast around for a suitable word.

  As usual Brook came to the rescue. ‘Demonised.’

  Noble jabbed a finger in Brook’s direction. ‘So the sooner I get to speak to them. . .’

  ‘Mind if I give you one more piece of advice, John?’ ventured Brook.

  ‘Go on.’

  ‘If you want to protect them, get them out of here now.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Hendrickson’s on reception.’

  Noble’s brow furrowed. ‘Sir, I know you and Hendrickson don’t see eye to eye—’

  ‘Remember the leaks to the local rag about the Plummer rape a few years ago?’

  ‘You don’t know that was Hendrickson.’

  ‘I couldn’t prove it, no. But Brian Burton splashed sensitive details on the front page of the Telegraph the next day and the prosecution collapsed. And that wasn’t the only time it’s happened in a big case.’

  ‘Sir, why—?’

  ‘Hendrickson’s close to retirement, John. And local coppers of his generation. . . did things differently. Briefing a journalist for a drink was accepted practice in their day.’

  ‘Most of the time it’s harmless.’

  ‘It wasn’t during the Deity inquiry.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘We brought in one of the parents, remember?’

  ‘So?’

  ‘Who turned up out of the blue with a photographer when we picked him up? Brian Burton. The next day, front-page news.’

  ‘Yeah, but the father was cleared.’

  ‘He committed suicide, John.’

  ‘You can’t blame Brian Burton for that. Or Hendrickson.’

  ‘And you can’t prove Burton’s coverage didn’t have an effect on how things ended. The man’s a lowlife.’

  Noble was deep in thought. ‘So you think Burton could be on his way now?’

  ‘Photographer in tow,’ added Brook.

  Noble opened the door to leave. ‘Your first day back, in your shoes, don’t you think you should worry about
your meeting with Charlton?’

  ‘Would you want to be in the Stapletons’ shoes if I’m right?’

  After a brief hesitation, Noble took out his mobile, marching out of the office as he spoke. ‘Rob, get the Stapletons’ car round to the dock and get them off home, stat. Don’t ask questions, just do it.’

  Eight

  Brook sat at Noble’s desk and fired up his laptop, nearly choking when he saw the number of unopened internal emails in his Inbox. ‘Five hundred and thirty-seven!’ As he had no pending court cases, he deleted them all, trying to suppress the absurd sense of satisfaction it gave him.

  Noble re-entered the office. ‘What’s so funny?’

  Still smiling, Brook answered, ‘Nothing’s funny. Success?’

  Noble nodded sombrely at Brook. ‘They’re on their way home.’

  ‘Any sign of Burton?’

  ‘None,’ said Noble emphatically. ‘Why do I let you talk me into these things?’

  ‘Because you’ve got good instincts, John.’ Brook logged off and closed his laptop. ‘Sorry, I’m keeping you from your desk.’

  Noble looked uncomfortable suddenly, glancing towards Brook’s adjoining office. The desk was stacked high with files and papers, with used plastic cups and mugs dotting what little surface area was left. ‘I’m sorry about your office. It became a bit of a dumping ground. I was going to tidy up but you know how it is.’

  ‘Hardly your fault, John. I wasn’t here to keep it clear.’

  ‘I can—’

  ‘Forget it,’ said Brook. ‘It’s not as though I’m going to need it where I’m going.’

  ‘No,’ conceded Noble. There was a sudden awkwardness as Brook’s colleague cast around for more to say. ‘I’m sure that’s just temporary – until Charlton gets his payback. You’ll soon be back in the saddle. We’re stretched pretty thin.’

  Brook could tell he wasn’t convinced. ‘We’ll see.’

  Again Noble had to be first to find a new topic of conversation. He’d forgotten Brook’s aversion to small talk. ‘How’s your lovely daughter?’

  ‘Terri’s fine,’ said Brook. ‘I think.’

  ‘You’ve not seen her?’

  ‘Not since my suspension, no. After I was discharged from hospital, she went to Greece for the rest of the summer and now she’s back at university.’