‘Right, Alan, you interview the lorry driver. Get a full description of what he saw. Harry and Dave you two go round the front three ranks of cars. I want full witness statements. Make sure you get names and addresses as well as licence details. And check if any of them have dash cam. Ronnie, I want you to get the CCTV from the motorway control room. I need to look at the footage asap.’
‘Yes, boss.’
The detectives hurried off leaving Ridpath and Charlie Whitworth still standing over the dead body.
‘Are you sure this wasn’t a druggie who’s just decided to take a stroll across the busiest road in Manchester?’
‘Certain, boss. I saw a man with a gun.’
Charlie’s bottom lip came up and covered his moustache. ‘Right,’ he said finally. ‘You can go back to the station with John Snow. I want a full signed witness statement from you tonight. Plus you can work with E-Fit to create a picture of the perp.’
‘What about…?’
Before Ridpath could finish a convoy of police cars, led by a sleek black BMW, was heading straight towards them on the empty road in front, driving the wrong way down the M60.
‘Oh shit, just what I needed…’ said Charlie, shaking his head.
Chapter Five
The door of the black BMW opened and a long pair of elegant legs in black heels placed themselves carefully on the tarmac of the motorway. The legs were followed by a woman of medium height, her hair cut in a severe blonde bob as if she had just stepped out of a hair salon a few minutes ago.
From another car the burly shape of Harold Todd joined the woman and together they both strode down the motorway past the jack-knifed lorry, Todd keeping one yard behind in imitation of Prince Philip.
‘Evening, ma’am.’
‘Evening Charlie. Is this your pile of shit?’
‘I… I…’
For the first time, Ridpath saw Charlie Whitworth was lost for words.
The blonde bob turned round to face him.
‘Hello, Ridpath, long time no see. How come you’re involved?’
Charlie’s eyes narrowed. ‘You two know each other?’
The woman answered for him. ‘We met at the training school. I was young Ridpath’s lecturer in criminal law. When was it? 2006?’
‘2007, ma’am.’
What Ridpath didn’t mention was they had slept together on the last night of the course. A drunken fumbling after a night in the pub. He winced as he still remembered the mess her nails had made to his back. This was before he met and fell in love with Polly of course. Somehow it seemed such a long time ago.
Claire Trent had hardly changed in the last eleven years. Either she practised a strict diet and exercise regime, or she used an awful lot of Botox.
Ridpath checked her forehead. Not a wrinkle or frown to be seen.
‘You look surprised, Ridpath. Didn’t Charlie tell you? I took over from John Gorman as Head of MIT yesterday.’
So she was his new guvnor. Even though he was temporarily attached to the Coroner’s Office, officially he was still part of MIT, retaining his inspector rank.
Perhaps the world was finally turning in his favour. And then his tower of optimism came tumbling down as quickly as it had been erected.
‘So who’s responsible for this shower of shit?’
Everybody, including the first responder, stared at him.
‘You reported seeing an armed man on the hard shoulder, Ridpath?’
‘Yes, ma’am.’
‘An armed response team are searching Sale Water Park, ma’am,’ interjected Charlie, quickly taking implicit credit.
She ignored her second in command, continuing to stare at Ridpath. ‘Are you sure?’
He nodded. ‘I was driving in the middle lane but I’m pretty sure.’
‘Pretty sure or sure?’
Ridpath replayed the image in his mind of the man’s face and the gun in his hand. ‘Sure,’ he finally said.
‘Right, Harold. This is a crime scene. Get the pathologist and the SOC team to check out the body. And set up a tent around it. Too many bloody gawkers here.’
‘But, the traffic…’
‘Sorry, Harold, can’t be helped. We’ll be as quick as we can.’
Over the chief superintendent’s shoulder Ridpath could see three Tyvex clothed men walking towards the dead body carrying their kit. In front, a shorter man looking like a teenager led the way.
‘Where do I sign in?’ asked the teenager.
‘And who are you?’
‘I’m Dr Schofield, the pathologist.’ He pointed back over his shoulder. ‘Sophie Cook will be the crime scene manager.’
‘Organise a cordon around the body and set up the usual protocols Charlie,’ said Claire Trent.
‘Yes, ma’am.’
‘And you, Ridpath. Back to the station. I want a detailed witness statement on my desk this evening. And give a description to E-Fit,’ she said, unknowingly echoing Charlie Whitworth’s previous order.
Despite their previous relationship the voice was cold and businesslike. ‘Yes, ma’am,’ was all he answered. ‘And one other thing, ma’am. The victim touched the bonnet of my car with his hands. You might want to take the prints.’
‘You heard that, Sophie?’ Claire Trent shouted at the crime scene manager.
‘Noted, ma’am,’ was the instant response.
‘And you lot stop calling me ma’am. I’m not the bloody queen, not yet anyway. Boss or Guvnor will do.’
‘Yes, ma’am,’ answered Charlie Whitworth.
Claire Trent eyed him suspiciously. ‘Well, what are you waiting for? Get a bloody move on.’
Chapter Six
He was sitting forward in the kitchen chair, elbows resting on his knees, furiously smoking a cigarette.
‘You bloody fool, how did he escape?’ She lunged forward snatching the cigarette from between his fingers and running the lit end under the tap. ‘I told you before I can’t stand you smoking too much. It stinks the whole house out.’ She turned back to face him. ‘Well?’
‘I went for a walk, when I got back I found he’d managed to escape from the ropes.’
‘You went out for a walk?’ She ran her fingers through her long blonde hair, ‘I told you never to leave him alone. Never to leave any of them alone.’
‘But you don’t understand. It gets so boring here. I needed fresh air.’
She knelt in front of him, resting her hands on his. ‘Your one job was to guard him. Keep him doped up so he didn’t even think about escaping.’
‘He must have worked out his water was spiked. Gerard always was smart.’
She stood up again. ‘Tell me what happened.’
‘I came back and checked the cellar as I always do. Usually he’s asleep…’
‘Ambien has that effect on people.’
He stared at her for a second before continuing. ‘But this time, he wasn’t there. The rope was lying in two pieces on the floor.’
‘How did he cut it?’
The man threw his hands in the air. ‘I don’t bloody know.’
‘Why was the door open?’
The man looked down at the floor. ‘I forgot to lock it,’ he whispered.
‘I told you to watch him. Jesus…’
‘I checked the rest of the cellar in case he was hiding…’
‘But he wasn’t…’
‘So I grabbed the gun and went after him.’
‘Let’s get this right. You walked out in full daylight carrying a loaded gun?’
He nodded.
‘Talk about stupidity. What if somebody saw you?’
‘What else was I supposed to do? Let him run away and talk to the police? They’d be here in five minutes.’
She stayed silent.
‘Anyway, I guessed he hadn’t been gone long, the blanket was still warm, I ran after him.’
‘How’d you know which way he went?’
‘I didn’t.’ He shrugged his shoulders. ‘I was lucky I guess.
’
‘And?’
‘And after about five minutes I spotted him running up the path to the motorway. He was moving pretty slowly, I guess there was still some of the drug in his system.’
‘So you went after him?’
‘I ran to the motorway. He must have known about the gap in the fence…’
‘Most people do.’
‘As I went through it he was just stepping over the crash barrier onto the hard shoulder. I think he had this idea he was going to flag down one of the cars, but they were all going too fast. He ran out into the road, one car narrowly missed him, but he managed to stop another. I ran towards him.’
‘Did anybody see you?’
‘I don’t think so. The traffic was heavy. Anyway, he must have seen me because then he ran towards the far lane and was hit by a truck.’
‘Is he dead?’
‘I didn’t hang around to check but when you’re hit by a forty-ton artic going at speed, you don’t survive.’
‘Nobody saw you?’
He nodded. ‘I wasn’t there long.’
She ran her fingers through her hair again. ‘What about the motorway cameras?’
‘I’m sure they saw the accident, but I stayed close to the fence and didn’t go onto the hard shoulder.’
‘I suppose that’s one saving grace from this clusterfuck.’
‘At least it saves us killing him. I quite liked Gerard, he made me laugh.’
She knelt down next to him again. ‘Listen, you don’t get close to the people we take, understand?’
He nodded.
‘I wanted us to kill him. Make him suffer. Even more, I wanted them to know he’d been killed. Now it just looks like an accident.’
‘But he’s dead anyway, I think…’
She put a long, elegant finger across his lips. ‘Listen, Reggie, you’re my brother but I do the thinking. We’ve got a plan and we’re going to put into action. You’re here to make it happen. Do you understand?’
He nodded again.
‘Just do whatever I tell you. We’ve got a lot of work to do in the next few days. We’re going to make them pay for what they did.’
Chapter Seven
Ridpath was at the station giving his statement when it struck him like a sledgehammer. ‘Oh shit.’ He checked the large clock on wall. 10:35 p.m. ‘Is that the right time?’
The new detective, John Snow, who was taking the details, glanced over his shoulder. ‘Nah, it’s always slow. The real time is…’ he flicked up his sleeve revealing a gigantic black chronometer, ‘…10:47 and twenty-three seconds.’
‘Shit,’ mumbled Ridpath under his breath. ‘Look, do you mind if we take a break. I’ve got to make a call.’
‘No problem. More coffee?’
Ridpath shook his head. ‘I’ll be awake until next Tuesday if I drink any more.’
DC Snow shuffled off in search of fresh coffee for himself. Ridpath took out his phone. No calls. Was that good or bad?
He rang Polly’s number and was immediately transferred to a machine. ‘Hello, you’ve reached Polly Lam, you know the drill.’ Then a pause. ‘But if that’s Ridpath, you should be ashamed of yourself. Your daughter is inconsolable. Bastard.’
It was bad.
He rang again, getting the same message. After the beep he left one of his own. ‘Look, I’m really sorry Polly. I was involved in an accident driving back from Teesside. Please ask Eve to forgive me. And, in case you ask, I’m OK.’
He switched off his phone. The call came five seconds later.
‘Are you OK? Are you hurt?’
‘No, I’m fine.’
‘Really?’
‘Really, I’m fine. I witnessed somebody being killed on the motorway so I’m now at the station giving a statement.’
There was a pause on the other end of the phone. ‘So you weren’t actually involved in the accident?’
‘No, I…’
‘You didn’t crash your car or hit anybody?’
‘No, like I said, I…’
‘And you weren’t injured at all? Not even a sprained, lying tongue?’
‘Don’t be like that Polly…’
‘Your daughter has been waiting for you since 6:30 this evening.’
‘I know, I’m sorry… I…’
‘No phone call. Nothing.’
‘I had to give a statement and it slipped my mind.’
Another pause. ‘Seems like we’re always slipping through the cracks in your mind, Ridpath. Maybe, you should think about us just once in a while.’
‘I’ll call her tomorrow to explain.’
‘I don’t know if she wants to talk to you.’
‘Please, Polly, she’s ten years old, she has to talk to me.’
There was long sigh down the end of the phone. ‘You just don’t get it, do you, Ridpath?’
Then there was the buzzing sound indicating she had ended the call. Ridpath thought about phoning back, but just as he was about to press the button Charlie Whitworth entered the interview room.
He sat down in front of Ridpath. Without saying a word, he picked up the witness statement and began to read it. After he had finished, he put it down gently on the table. His bottom lip came up to meet the bottom of his moustache. ‘Is that it, Ridpath?’
‘Yes, Charlie. Except the E-Fit of the man with the gun hasn’t been attached.’
The eyes flicked up from the statement and stared straight at Ridpath. ‘We’ve got a problem.’
‘Just one, Charlie?’
‘Nah, about twenty actually.’
Charlie’s meaty hand came up with the thumb pointing upwards. ‘Number one. The mayor has been on the blower to the chief constable.’
‘What does he want?’
‘Your guts. We finally cleared the scene at 9:30 p.m. By that time the traffic jam stretched seventeen miles, all the way to Bolton. The game started half full, most of the bloody fans stuck on the M60. The mayor’s not a happy camper, and if he’s not happy, the chief gets it in the ear. You should know that shit flows downhill, Ridpath, and at the moment there’s a bloody avalanche of it heading your way.’
‘I know what I saw, boss.’
‘Number two.’ The index finger flicked up. ‘CCTV doesn’t show anybody standing on the hard shoulder. We see the victim come from the left, a car swerving around him, you braking to a stop. Thank God, you were under the speed limit. The victim leaning on your car for a couple of seconds and then the lorry hitting him.’
‘There’s nobody on the hard shoulder?’
Charlie shook his head. ‘Nobody.’
Ridpath thought quickly. ‘Does the CCTV show the other side of the barrier?’
‘You mean the crash barrier before the hard shoulder? Nah, it just focuses on the road.’
‘The man may have been on the other side of the barrier…’
‘So now you’re changing your story?’
‘No, I’m not. It happened so quickly…I was driving in the middle lane and this young man suddenly ran straight out in front of me.’
‘So when did you see the man with the gun?’
‘When I stopped. The young man had his hands on my bonnet and he glanced across to his right. I followed where he was looking.’
Charlie sighed. ‘Number three. The lorry driver said he saw nobody, only the man he hit with his lorry. He’s still a bit of a mess though. He remembers nothing except the sound of his wing mirror carving into the young man’s skull.’
‘He was in the outside lane. He wouldn’t have seen anything.’
‘The poor sod is going to lose his licence though. We breathalysed him. He was over.’
‘There was nothing he could have done even if he’d been stone cold sober.’
‘Doesn’t matter, he’s toast. Number four. No other driver in any of the cars behind you reports seeing a man on the hard shoulder or behind the barrier.’
‘What about the car on the inside lane. The one that swerved out of the way?�
��
‘We haven’t been able to locate him yet.’
‘Why? You must have the number plate from the CCTV?’
‘It was fake. No records for that plate.’
‘No wonder he didn’t stop after the accident. He must have seen everything.’ Ridpath thought for a moment. ‘What about ANPR? You must be able to track him?’
‘Don’t teach me how to do my job, Ridpath.’
‘I’m not, Charlie, it’s just—’
‘We’re looking through the footage as we speak. But if he left the motorway and went on side roads…’
‘There’ll be fewer cameras.’
‘At least I trained you well.’ The finger went up again. ‘Number five. The armed response team found nothing in Sale Water Park except three courting couples and a gross of used johnnies. They felt, and I quote, “it was a waste of police time and scarce resources”. End quote.’
‘I know what I saw, Charlie. There was a man with a handgun chasing our vic. Have we ID’d him yet?’
‘The vic?’ Charlie shook his head. ‘We’ll release a picture tomorrow to the Evening News and hope somebody comes forward. But my bet is he was a druggie who thought he was in the middle of paradise rather than in the middle of the M60.’
‘I don’t think so, Charlie. He was scared for his life. That’s why he was running. What would be so frightening you would run across one of the busiest roads in the north of England in the middle of rush hour?’
‘Why are you asking me? I’m not a bloody clairvoyant.’
Chapter Eight
After Ridpath had left Charlie Whitworth sat alone in his office re-reading Ridpath’s statement. There were too many unanswered questions.
Why had nobody else seen the man beside the M60?
Why was the victim running across the road in the first place?
Why there?
And why then?
He pulled out a bottle of whisky from the drawer, pouring a large splash into an empty mug on his desk. Ridpath wasn’t an officer given to exaggeration. In fact before his illness he had been one of MIT’s rising stars; smart, energetic and above all, persistent.
It was all bollocks this Sherlock Holmes stuff. Police work was all about perseverance; chasing down leads, following up on details, keeping going when all others have given up.
Where the Dead Fall Page 3