One Dead Witness hc-3

by Nick Oldham

  His tongue ran along the inside of his lower lip, like a reptile was slithering about in his mouth. ‘You think you’re so fucking smart, don’t you?’

  ‘ Jack, I need to get out fast. I’ve got important work on. Please.’

  ‘ That’s exactly what I mean. You think you’re some high-fuckin’ — falutin’ detective now, working on some very important cases.’ He mimicked Danny with these last three words, shaking his head and sounding like some kind of Hooray Henry. ‘But you’re not.’ He poked his finger right in the middle of her cleavage so forcefully she staggered backwards against the desk, holding it for support. ‘You’re just a fuckin’ no-good bitch that doesn’t know anything except what I’ve taught her, and what have you done to me? Eh? Dumped me — like that.’ He clicked his fingers with a snap and a jab forward of his face.

  ‘ Let me go, Jack.’

  She pushed herself away from the desk and tried to walk round him. He took hold of her again and pulled her to him.

  ‘ No — I won’t let you go. Ever. I love you. Don’t you see what you’re doing to me?’

  Her eyes softened for a moment. Jack released some of the power of his grip, giving her space to manoeuvre. Just enough room to twist slightly and, once again, drive her knee up into his testicles.

  He roared in agony, released her, doubled up in pain, and reeled away, clutching his privates, cursing and swearing. His eyeballs were ready to pop out.

  Danny left him hobbling around the office, no backward glance.

  Fifteen minutes later.

  ‘ In position,’ Danny transmitted.

  ‘ Received.’ Henry acknowledged Danny’s radio message. This meant everyone was ready to roll — the initial arrest teams, backed up by the evidence-gatherers.

  Henry breathed deep. ‘Let’s hit ‘em,’ he said, his mouth dry in anticipation.

  When the ‘Roger’ came from Danny, he opened his car door and moved.

  Gilbert’s house had a huge sweeping driveway, the house itself set in two and a half acres of landscaped gardens. There were wrought-iron gates at the entrance to the drive, but they were open. A convoy, led by Danny and her arrest squad, drove at a sedate pace and stopped outside the front door of the house.

  Danny rang the bell. She had decided this arrest was going to be made in a dignified, adult manner… at least, that’s how it would start out. This approach didn’t stop her sending two cops around the back of the house to ensure there was no chance of a back-door dash.

  Gilbert came to the door. Danny had never been close to the guy before, but had seen photos of him. She was astounded — and repulsed — by his enormity. He was like an overweight walrus, with broken capillaries all over his face, tiny piggy eyes and a girth which needed a chalk-mark to measure it. He was so hideous she almost giggled.

  ‘ Detective Sergeant Furness, Blackpool CID.’ She wafted her warrant card and badge under his nose. ‘Are you Charles Gilbert?’

  He nodded, perplexed.

  ‘ I’m arresting you on suspicion of the murder of Claire Lilton.’ Danny cautioned him and waited for his reply.

  He blinked rapidly a few times. Then, patronisingly, said, ‘Dearie, you are making one hell of a mistake here. Do you know who I am?’

  ‘ I know exactly who you are, Mr Gilbert.’ Danny smiled sweetly and waved the search team into the house.

  ‘ What the hell’s going on here?’ Gilbert demanded. He moved his bulk and wedged himself into the doorway. ‘You’re not coming in here. Where’s your warrant?’

  Danny regarded him, rotating her lower jaw as if chewing gum. ‘Under the Police and Criminal Evidence Act, we don’t need one.’

  The officer leading the Support Unit search team was standing at Danny’s shoulder, his troops behind him, eager to get on with the job. He poked his chin over Danny’s shoulder and said, ‘So if you don’t get out of the way, you big fat tub of lard, we’ll happily move you.’

  Gilbert nodded, beaten. He moved aside and whined, ‘I want a solicitor — now.’

  ‘ You’ll get one when you reach the police station,’ Danny told him. ‘Now what I’d like you to do is accompany these two officers to that van, get in and be taken to Blackpool police station.’

  ‘ I said I want a solicitor now.’

  Danny remained pleasant in tone. ‘Sooner you get in the van, sooner you get to the station, sooner you get a brief.’

  One of the uniformed officers on the arrest squad reached out and tried to grab Gilbert’s upper arm. It was too big and fat for his hand.

  ‘ Don’t you dare touch me,’ Gilbert said, shaking him off.

  ‘ No more delay.’ Danny’s voice hardened. ‘Get in the back of the van, now.’

  Gilbert eyed her dangerously and pushed past her.

  As an aside, the uniformed officer said to Danny, ‘I honestly don’t think he’ll fit in. We should’ve brought an HGV for the fat bastard.’

  Danny sniggered. Stage one over. With a sense of satisfaction, she prepared to send Henry a message over the airwaves: mission accomplished.

  Her boss had decided on a less subtle approach for Ollie Spencer. A rapid entry was needed in this case, because if the police took too much time getting in, Spencer might be able to dispose of vital evidence; with his flat being the supposed scene of the murder, Henry wanted as much from it as possible.

  The entrance to the flat was by way of a door at the rear of an electrical shop, leading directly to some stairs and up onto a landing; the doors of the flat were off this landing.

  Henry’s team had to get in, get up the stairs and locate Spencer before he knew what had hit him. To assist the team they had a map which had been drawn initially by Grace, then improved by a detective. According to this floor plan, once on the landing, there was a bedroom door to the left, bathroom, toilet and kitchen through doors on the right and dead ahead, a living room.

  The Support Unit were going to do the entry, race up the stairs, split like the Red Arrows and hit each door virtually simultaneously. Maximum fifteen seconds from going in the door to locating and neutralising Spencer, they promised.

  The officers gathered around the outer door with the ‘Ram-it’ in the hands of one of them.

  He shuffled his shoulders, flexed his fingers on the handles of the thirty-inch, thirty-five pounds of solid metal tubing with a flattened end. He swung it backwards about two feet to gain the necessary momentum, then let it swing towards the door.

  Fourteen thousand pounds of kinetic force burst the door open with one blow. The officer pivoted out of the way.

  The Support Unit teams raced in and bounded up the stairs in a well-practised drill.

  At the top of the stairs they split and hit the doors.

  Twelve seconds after entry the shout went up: ‘Suspect located — neutralised — bedroom.’

  Henry Christie jogged up the stairs to — the bedroom where he saw Spencer, naked, lying spreadeagled on the bed, a rather flaccid erection meandering up from his ginger pubic hair. A young boy who looked no more than nine, also naked, was sitting next to him on the bed.

  ‘ Found this one, too.’

  Henry turned at the voice. An officer was holding another youngster, this time a girl, who had only a towel wrapped loosely around her.

  Henry looked at Spencer and arrested him for murder.

  ‘ One arrested — no problems,’ Danny informed Henry over the radio, just moments after he had cautioned Spencer and thrown a pair of trousers at him.

  ‘ Received,’ he replied. ‘Ditto — no problems either, just a couple of house-guests, probably mispers.’

  ‘ Understood.’

  ‘ We’ll probably be at the nick before you, so we’ll book our chap in, then I’ll call you when the coast is clear.’

  ‘ Roger,’ Danny replied.

  Henry turned his attention back to Spencer, who was making a meal of getting dressed. ‘Get your fucking clothes on,’ the DI growled, ‘or I’ll drag you naked through the streets of Bla
ckpool and show everyone what a pervert you are.’

  Spencer eyed him unsurely; decided he was probably telling the truth.

  He was fully dressed within a minute.

  Spencer was processed into the custody system fairly smoothly. He was quiet and easy to deal with, saying little, exercising none of his rights until he found out where he stood. When he was sitting in a cell, Henry radioed Danny to bring Gilbert in.

  By this time he had been sitting in the back of the van in the rear yard of the police station for about fifteen minutes, getting increasingly restless.

  Danny opened the van doors, then the inner cage door.

  Gilbert eased himself through the gap.

  ‘ You are going to look so stupid,’ he told Danny.

  ‘ Yeah, right.’ She pointed to the back door of the police station. ‘I believe you made an official visit here a few weeks ago, so you’ll know the way to the cells.’ She pushed him gently. He snapped her hand away.

  ‘ Don’t ever touch me.’

  ‘ Don’t make me have to.’

  He walked to the door. Behind him one of the uniformed officers imitated his rolling gait, blowing his cheeks out like a trumpet-player and forcing his belly out. Danny laughed silently… but the smile dropped from her lips as, right at the back door, the one and only police witness in the case appeared in the company of a social worker and literally walked straight into Gilbert.

  ‘ How could that have happened?’ FB demanded furiously. ‘Your most vital witness walking right into the main suspect. Come on — how?’

  ‘ I don’t know, sir,’ Danny admitted. ‘It just happened — one of those things. I feel bad about it. It should not have happened… just an unlucky coincidence.’

  ‘ Someone should swing for this,’ FB blazed.

  Henry had watched him browbeating Danny for long enough. ‘What’s done is done,’ he said reasonably. ‘No one’s to blame for it. Grace had been handed over to Social Services and was leaving the station.’

  Danny slumped heavily onto a chair. They were all back in Henry’s office.

  ‘ I’ve really cocked up again, haven’t I?’ Danny admonished herself. She was close to tears. ‘I did it with Claire, now I’ve done it with Grace.’

  ‘ What do you mean?’ FB asked.

  ‘ I mean I promised Grace we’d protect her if she gave evidence and look what happened.’ Danny shook her head in frustration. ‘Slap-bang into him. You should have seen his face. As soon as I get the chance I’ll visit Grace, spend some time with her, reassure her. She’ll need all the support we can give her now.’

  ‘ Fine, do that,’ FB said. ‘Now, where are we up to?’

  ‘ Gilbert’s in with his solicitor; Spencer hasn’t requested one. Danny and a DC are going to interview Gilbert first,’ Henry explained.

  ‘ No,’ FB said firmly to Henry. ‘I want you and Danny to interview them both.’

  ‘ Why?’

  ‘ Because I say so, that’s why. I want the best interviewer on this, and that’s you.’

  Henry didn’t know whether to be pleased or pissed off. On the one hand he was glad FB had said something nice about him for once; on the other, it wasn’t his job to interview.

  ‘ I want those bastards charged and convicted of murder, Henry.’

  ‘ Is this place bugged? Can they hear what we are saying?’

  Gilbert and his solicitor, Maurice Stanway, were in the solicitor’s room. Stanway had been Gilbert’s brief for almost twenty years. They knew each other well.

  The room was basic. One table screwed to the floor, three plastic chairs. They faced each other across the table. Gilbert’s bulk overflowed his chair and the thin metal legs sagged.

  ‘ It’s always possible, but I doubt it,’ Stanway said. ‘Believe it or not, they’re pretty ethical these days.’

  ‘ Fools,’ Gilbert laughed. ‘So, what’s going to happen now?’

  ‘ You’ll be interviewed, probably fairly cursorily at first. They’ll establish a few facts, ensure you know why you’ve been arrested, things like that. Then they’ll start asking you questions, probably hoping you’ll crack before they declare any real evidence at this stage.’

  ‘ In other words, they’ll offer me the chance to confess?’

  ‘ In other words, yes.’

  ‘ And if I don’t?’

  ‘ They’ll start to declare evidence, bit by bit. Forensic, direct evidence from witnesses… hoping you’ll admit.’

  ‘ What forensic do they have?’

  ‘ I don’t know yet. We’ll have to wait and see.’

  ‘ They won’t have any.’

  ‘ You sound certain.’

  ‘ I am.’

  ‘ They may well have witnesses.’

  ‘ They have. I saw her when I came into the station.’

  ‘ All it takes is one witness,’ Stanway stated.

  ‘ I think they’ll rely heavily on her.’

  ‘ Her testimony may well be enough — at least to get you charged and put before a court. But let’s see how it pans out, shall we?’

  ‘ Okay.’

  ‘ Will the police find anything at your house, Charles?’

  ‘ Books, videos, magazines, photographs… you know the sort of thing.’

  ‘ Anything to link you to the dead girl?’

  ‘ No.’

  ‘ Well, that’s good. Let’s go and see what they’ve got.’

  Ninety minutes later Gilbert and Stanway were back in the solicitor’s consulting room. They were buzzing, feeling very confident.

  ‘ You handled the questions skilfully, Charles. I applaud you.’ They shook hands and sat down. ‘So,’ Stanway said, ‘that was the opening salvo.’

  ‘ And pretty tame it was, too.’

  ‘ If you’re sure about the forensic side of things, I’d suggest they will have only the girl’s eyewitness testimony. And, of course, Ollie Spencer, who has not been interviewed yet, nor requested a solicitor.’

  ‘ In that case, you should offer your services. I would hate for him to say anything stupid.’

  Stanway nodded.

  ‘ When will I be out of here?’

  ‘ Oh, they’ll keep you in as long as possible. They always do in cases such as these.’

  At midnight Henry Christie and Danny Furness were sitting on a bench on the promenade, near to Central Pier. From having been a cold day, the night had become idyllic and still. The tide was way out. The sky was clear and the moon almost full. It was even quite mild, verging on warm.

  Henry rubbed his neck and rolled his head. His bones creaked and cracked. ‘God, I’m whacked.’

  Danny stood up and walked behind him. She began to massage his shoulders through his jacket. Her fingers probed into his muscles. He groaned, not far short of ecstasy.

  ‘ That is wonderful,’ he murmured. His toes tingled. He dropped his chin onto his chest and revelled in the sensation.

  ‘ In another time, on another planet, I’ll lay odds we could have been good together,’ Danny whispered into his ear.

  ‘ It’s a nice thought,’ he responded, taking one of Danny’s hands and squeezing it.

  Danny kissed his neck, sending a shiver of absolute pleasure down his spine. ‘Come on, Henry, let’s get some sleep. Busy day tomorrow.’

  They strolled back to the police station car park, arm-in-arm, Danny with her head resting on Henry’s shoulder. He drove her home and dropped her off. On the way to his own home he was quite proud of himself. Not very long ago he would have been in bed with her — or at least he would have tried to be. It wasn’t that he did not like the idea of it, but he was a reformed character where women were concerned. Too many close shaves had made him see his family was more important than his libido. Never again did he want to hurt his wife or children.

  Meanwhile Danny undressed and wished she was climbing into bed with him, but knew it would never happen. She was glad Henry had been strong for them both. She knew that if he had laid a hand on her, s
he would have been unable to resist and then she would have been in the fire, just having jumped out of the frying pan.

  Chapter Nineteen

  ‘ The search teams and forensic have ripped that flat apart, been down the toilet, up the U-bends, down the drains, everywhere. They worked through the night and are still beavering away as we speak, but early indications are that there is nothing, nothing at all, which will be of evidential use to link Claire Lilton to that flat and those two men.’

  Danny had returned to work at 6 a.m., having cadged a lift from one of the early-turn officers. She had liaised with the specialists, checking on the progress of that side of the investigation; it was eight now and she was briefing the murder squad, Henry and FB included.

  ‘ What have we recovered from Gilbert’s house?’

  ‘ Child pornography — videos, magazines, books, hard copy from the Internet… possibly some cocaine, but only a small amount… sexual aids and several little black books containing names and addresses of people who, we believe, are his associates in the aforementioned areas. They contain detailed information on sexual preferences, likes, dislikes. My feeling is that Gilbert and Spencer are part of a paedophile ring; my guess is Ollie Spencer does the legwork, finding the kids — probably like the two we found in his flat yesterday — and once he and Gilbert have finished with them, they get sucked into the ring. There’s a lot of codes in his books. If we ever crack them, or he tells us that they mean, I think it’ll tell us the story of some poor kids.’

  ‘ But right now we want to hang a murder on him, don’t we?’ FB said. ‘So let’s concentrate on that for the time being. Where the hell do we stand on that?’

  Danny shook her head sadly. ‘It’s looking more and more like we’re going to have to rely on Grace’s evidence. Gilbert and Spencer have obviously been really thorough as regards cleaning up after their wrongdoings, and the only thing they didn’t deal with properly was Grace. She’s all we’ve got for the moment, and I’m not happy with that. It puts too much pressure on her and makes our case very weak.’