by L M Krier
Ted smiled his relief. He believed him, and appreciated his honesty. It made him happier at the prospect of going away at the weekend. But he added a word of caution. 'I'm not entirely sure Océane sees it as just a bit of harmless fun though, so do watch what you're doing.
'Now tell me all about the PM, before the relatives get here. If Megan's around, I'll have her with me. Jezza's not the tea and sympathy sort.'
'Ah, Jezza, now there's another one,' Jo said with a wink.
Ted immediately became serious. 'Absolutely off limits, Jo. With good reason. Not so much as a flirt, please. Trust me on that.'
Jo heard the note of warning in the boss's voice and nodded in acknowledgement. He then ran through the PM details. Bizzie would send Ted her written report later in the day but for now, he needed the main points before he spoke to the relatives.
The details were similar to the other two. Bizzie Nelson had no doubt that both the knife and the boots were the same in all three killings, having been sent the report on the South Manchester victim. Once again, there were multiple stab wounds, several of which would have proved fatal, followed by the now-familiar boot injuries to the head and face. Although forensic analysis of the hotel sheets confirmed that there had been recent sexual activity, the victim had been showering just before his attacker struck so they were unlikely to find any evidence on the body to identify the sexual partner.
'We need to focus on finding the women in these cases,' Ted stressed, when Jo had finished speaking. 'They're definitely not suspects, at this stage, but they may well have seen something, perhaps without realising. Someone watching them in the pubs where they made contact. See what you can chase up.'
A call to Ted's desk phone let him know that the widow of the latest victim was downstairs in an interview room. He collected Megan and the two of them made their way down to find the woman. In fact there were two women in the room, looking alike, one perhaps five years older than the other.
'Mrs Gildyke?'
'Yes, I'm Vera Gildyke,' the younger of the two told him. 'This is my sister, Rosemary. She's my only family, we have no children. I hope it's all right to have her with me?'
'Absolutely, no problem at all,' Ted assured her. 'Please may I begin by offering you my condolences. I'm afraid there is little doubt that the deceased person is your husband. Asking you to identify him is a formality. I just wondered what you could tell us about him, and about his reason for being in Cheadle?'
The story was a familiar one. A husband who was away travelling a lot of the time, often staying away from home, in one budget hotel after another. No, she wasn't aware if he was seeing anyone else, although the look which passed between the two sisters at that point told Ted all he needed to know. Yes, they were happy, and their marriage was a good one. No, she knew of no one who might have any reason to harm George. There were no enemies that she was aware of. It didn't advance them a lot.
'Stories like these make me glad I'm single,' Megan remarked, as she and Ted went back upstairs together.
'Stories like these make me glad I'm in a stable relationship,' Ted replied.
Ted was hoping there may be fresh leads to feed back when they all got together at the end of the day. They were in the conference room once more, Ted and Jim Baker sitting at one end of the table, flanked by Jo, and Kevin Turner. He was there to evaluate what help would be needed from his uniformed officers, and particularly from the Community Support Officers, who kept an ear close to the ground on their patch.
Jim Baker said his piece, then Ted asked for any feedback from anyone who had anything promising from interviewing potential witnesses.
Looking smugly pleased with himself, DC Hope drawled, 'I've got a possible. A couple in a pub who said they saw a man sitting in a corner reading a paper and watching what was going on in the room. They both remember he was wearing a dark fleece and had work boots on. I got a bit of a description from the two of them, but nothing much.'
Ted had always thought the expression 'face-palm' was just that; a turn of phrase. He felt a sudden, overwhelming desire to do it. Putting his elbows on the desk in front of him, he lowered his face into his hands, trying to rub away the sudden extreme fatigue which threatened to engulf him. He breathed deeply, to be sure of keeping his self-control.
'DC Hope,' he said, when he removed his hands. 'Please tell me that you didn't interview both potential witnesses at the same time? Are you familiar with the concept of co-witnessing and the problems that can present, with the two feeding off one another's account of what happened?'
Hope looked mutinous as he muttered, 'I thought it would save time…'
'No, DC Hope, it won't save time. It will simply, in all probability, result in the two people saying the same thing. Now tell me about the clothing. Did that just come up in conversation or did you suggest it to them in any way? In a busy pub, how did they come to notice the man's clothes and, in particular, his footwear?'
'Well, I may just have asked if he was dressed for a night out or still in his working clothes.'
'Reassure me, at least, that you remembered to ask them not to discuss the incident further between them, before we take formal statements from them?'
Hope had no reply and deflected the question by making a show of looking through his notes.
Ted looked up and addressed all of them. 'All right, everyone. Please remember the basics. Separate witnesses before interviewing. Don't ask leading questions. And remember to caution them about discussing the incident.
'DS O'Connell, can you please arrange for this couple to be interviewed again at the station, as soon as possible? One at a time.
'Anything else? Anyone? If not, please, everyone, write up all your notes, in detail, and let me have them as soon as possible. There is something here we're all missing for now. I want to spend a day or two going through everything we've got to find what it is.'
With that, Ted wound the meeting up, after assigning tasks for the next day. He noticed that DC Hope was particularly anxious to scuttle out of the conference room as soon as possible.
Ted went back up to his office to collect his things. He was just getting ready to leave when Rob came and knocked on the still-open door of his office. He was looking anxious.
'Boss, I'm really sorry, I screwed up. I should have checked Foster's lot knew what they were doing, before I let them loose on witnesses.'
'Not your fault at all, Rob,' Ted assured him. 'Both Hope, or perhaps Hopeless may be more appropriate, and Eccles have got more years under their belts than you have. It was a fair assumption. Just remember you're the DS on this; you're there to see they do their jobs properly. This is a big ask for you, new into the role. Don't be afraid to ask for help if you need it.
'Meanwhile, get them together first thing tomorrow for a briefing. Tell them how you want the interviews run and make damn sure they do as you instruct them. Any problems, let me know. I'm hoping and praying to get away at the weekend, on pain of death from Trev if I don't, so I need to know I'm leaving the ship steering a steady course towards a result.'
Ted was not a drinker, but after the day he'd just had, he stopped on the way home to buy a bottle of ginger beer for himself and a decent bottle of wine for Trev. He would get as much enjoyment from watching Trev drink it, and it might gain him a few good marks, just in case he couldn't pull off the weekend away.
Chapter Twenty-one
Ted had set aside some desk time for himself, leaving the team to get on with their tasks. He'd let them know he didn't want to be interrupted for anything non-urgent until further notice. He hadn't made much headway before his mobile alerted him to an incoming call from Jim Baker.
'There have been developments, Ted, of an unexpected kind,' the DSU told him, after they'd exchanged their usual light-hearted greetings. 'DI Foster is dead.'
'Really? Was it …?'
'Natural causes, fortunately for everyone. Apparently he had a heart problem he was trying to keep quiet about. He didn't want
to be put out to grass before he got his pension. He was supposed to stop smoking and cut right down on the drinking. With all this going on, he'd started hitting both again, hard, and I don't suppose the stress of the enquiry helped. His heart simply gave up, it seems.
'Now this is where it gets really interesting. He lived alone, long since divorced, kids grown up and gone. He was found by DS Mackenzie, the person who was under strict instructions not to go anywhere near him, or to have any kind of contact with him. To his credit, instead of just legging it and leaving him there to rot, he did call it in, so at least Foster was taken away and will get a decent funeral.
'Mackenzie was on his own. We don't know, and never will, but if I had to speculate, I would say the two of them were out to do a deal where they would throw Coombs to the wolves to save their own skins.'
'Nice company,' Ted commented. 'Sounds as if you could well be right. And it does seem, from what you told me, and from my own experience of Coombs, as if he was the ringleader and the other two just went along with him. So what now?'
'Gerry Fletcher and I will need to discuss it in detail, of course. But we may be able to use it to our advantage. If Mackenzie agrees to testify against Coombs, we could offer him a deal where we don't prosecute him. But whatever happens, his days in the force are finished, and he knows that.
'If he testifies, and if your Polish plumber agrees to do the same, we've got Coombs bang to rights and he could go down for up to a year for false allegation of a crime resulting in the arrest of an innocent person. It turns out he made a lot of enemies over the years with his attitude. Forensics, in particular, didn't like his high-handed manner. They had some interesting things to say on the provenance of the blood trace on the victim's car, and at what point Coombs drew it to their attention.'
'He deserves everything he gets. His type don't help the rest of us who try to be decent coppers. I'm not sure about Mr Bosko; he seemed nervous of the police. He might not want to draw attention to himself by testifying, although I hope he will. But if Mackenzie turns, there's surely enough without him?'
'Oh yes,' Jim agreed, 'I just want every nail I can possibly get for the lid of that bastard's coffin.'
Ted returned to his paperwork, only to be disturbed again by the briefest of knocks on his office door and the appearance of Bill, the desk sergeant. He didn't often venture up onto Ted's territory, so Ted knew it must be something important and, pushing his files aside, he put the kettle on and prepared to listen.
'I just wondered if you'd heard anything from Honest John lately, Ted?' Bill asked, sitting down. 'Only we haven't, and there have been a few deaths on the patch since I can last remember him calling. I wondered if I needed to send someone round? After all, one of the deaths has been in his block of flats, and he's not even laid claim to that.'
'You're right, Bill, now I come to think of it. My last contact was when I took Steve round there to introduce him. Last time we lost contact, his phone was out of order. He's not doing as well in the new place, either. He's getting bullied by local kids. I wonder if his social worker is keeping a close enough eye on him?'
'You know what it's like these days, Ted,' Bill took a slurp of his tea as he spoke. Ted had made it how he knew he liked it, dark and sweet, like treacle. 'Everyone's overworked and under-resourced. John is just the sort who could easily slip through the net. Do you want me to send a CSO round there to check?'
'I'll tell you what, I'll send young Steve, now he knows where John lives. I could do with getting him out of the office more. Especially now he and Océane are getting like Siamese twins over the computers.'
Bill laughed. 'Can't say I blame him. She is a very pretty girl. Out of his league a bit, though? He's so quiet I can't imagine how he's ever going to find himself a girl.'
'How are you, anyway, Bill?' Ted asked him. He knew Bill was a lonely man, who lived for his work since the early death of his wife.
'Oh, I'm fine. I pass the time. Darts with some of the lads, too much television, and as many work shifts as I can get. They tell you it gets easier with time. It's not true, though. You just get better at pretending that it does.'
They shared a companionable silence while they finished their drinks, then Bill stood up to leave.
'Can you please ask Steve to pop in here, as you go out, Bill?'
Just as the young man came timidly into the office, looking anxious, Ted took a call on his desk phone, from the Ice Queen.
'I'm sorry to be the bearer of bad news,' she began, and Ted groaned inwardly. He had a horrible feeling that meant his plans for the weekend were scuppered. 'It's only just been landed on me. I have a divisional budgetary planning meeting first thing tomorrow morning. That means I'm going to need some figures from you today. Can we get together in my office in, say, an hour's time? I'm basically looking for a breakdown of hours, and whether your latest operation is all coming out of our budget or what can be offloaded onto DSU Baker's.'
She must have sensed Ted's silent cursing as she added, 'And let me just remind you, we only have DI Rodriguez because of budgetary cuts in another division. So if you want to keep him, I suggest you make a financial case for it.'
Ted was less than thrilled so his reply was a terse and formal, 'Ma'am,' then he turned his attention to Steve.
'Don't look worried, Steve, it's just something I need you to do for me. Sit down first, though, and tell me how you're getting on. Anything fresh to report?'
'Well, sir, I had a thought,' Steve began nervously. 'I mean, after killings like these, our man is surely going to be covered in blood, or worse?'
Ted nodded encouragingly. Steve had some good ideas. He was just sometimes a bit hesitant about voicing them. Ted rightly guessed that he would be even more reticent with the expanded team, and especially the incomers from South Manchester.
'So if he's used the cover of being a maintenance man to gain access to the bedrooms, he may well use overalls, which he can then peel off afterwards, just in case anyone sees him. Our only sightings to date, from witnesses and CCTV, have him in a fleece. So I looked again at the CCTV from the first killing. It's not easy to see, but Océane enhanced it. He definitely has a strap over the shoulder furthest from the camera. Some sort of a holdall, perhaps.'
'Excellent, good work, make sure everyone working on the case knows that. It might just be something else to give us a steer towards who he is,' Ted told him. 'In the meantime, I'd like you to nip round to Honest John's place and just make sure he's all right. He's been a bit quiet of late and it's not like him. Don't spend too long there, just check his phone is working and that he can contact the outside world, then let me know. I'll be in a meeting with the Super, but send me a quick text, please.'
Ted was glad that he always tried to keep on top of his paperwork, no matter how busy he was. It was a scramble, but he could pull together the figures he would need relatively quickly. Now he had Jo on board, he didn't want to risk losing him. Especially not if it meant that he and Trev could get the occasional weekend away together, like a normal couple.
The Ice Queen had her coffee machine on and, to sweeten the pill, she had sent someone out to get pastries for them. Ted had his phone on mute but midway through their meeting, he felt it vibrating and risked a glance at the screen.
'I need to take this. Sorry,' he told her. 'I'll be as quick as I can,' then, as he picked up the call, 'Yes, Steve? What's the situation?'
'Not good, sir,' Steve's voice quavered with uncertainty. 'I think John might be dead. I waited ages for him to answer the door; I remembered how slowly he moves. But there's no sign of life inside and there's a really terrible smell, sir. I thought it was drains at first, but it's not. It's not like anything I've encountered before. That's why I think he might be dead inside there.'
'All right, Steve. Now listen carefully. I'm going to send two uniformed officers, and they'll gain access to the flat. I can't leave here just at the moment, and everyone is tied up. So I need you to be my eyes and ears on
the scene. Remember what we did the last time. I want you to look round carefully and see if there's anything which you think isn't right. If there is, get Uniform to call it in as suspicious and we'll send in the cavalry.
'Keep your head. Don't panic. And don't worry. I'd rather you called it in as suspicious and it wasn't than let it go as natural causes and it turns out to be something else. Keep me posted at all times.
'Sorry,' he said to the Ice Queen, 'I just need to sort this. Steve's on his own at the scene of a possible suspicious death. Honest John.'
'Of course. Let me speak to Inspector Turner for you and get his officers there. I assume they all know the address. You see if you can track down either DI Rodriguez or DS Hallam to get round there. Is DC Ellis going to be up to handling this on his own until they arrive?'
'I think so. He's sensible; he was with me when we looked at the last suspicious death scene at the same place. It won't be very nice if John is dead and smelling to high heaven, but I think he'll cope, for now. It's a good chance for him to show us what he's capable of.'
Ted tracked down Jo, who was nearer to Sabden House than Mike was, but would still need half an hour to finish what he was doing and get over there. Ted promised to join him as soon as he could, and went back to the figures. It was less than half an hour before he received another call from Steve.
'John is dead, sir. We've got inside now. Looks like it's been a few days. I've had a quick look round. I haven't touched anything, just looked, and something's not right at all. There's a big hamper of fancy food here in the living room, and it looks as if he'd been tucking into it. But his diabetic stuff, the medication and testing kits, isn't here, and I can't see it anywhere around, just at first glance. Shall we call it in as suspicious, sir?'