Brutal Pursuit

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Brutal Pursuit Page 10

by Diane M Dickson


  “Yeah, fine.” Tanya glanced at him. “I think we’ll take some stills though, Kate. Easier to put in front of witnesses in my experience.”

  This was becoming more and more petty and difficult. She would have to go and speak to Bob Scunthorpe. Now that his promotion had been confirmed, surely they could move Finch on to something else. It was bad enough trailing through the mire in this case without him second guessing her decisions and trying to score points. She went into the office and closed the door behind her. “Shit, Charlie,” she muttered, “why the hell did you have to bugger off to bloody Liverpool?”

  The door opened and Finch stomped in, tense and angry. He went to his coffee machine and stuck a pod into the slot.

  Tanya smiled to herself – there wasn’t going to be an espresso for her.

  Chapter 34

  “Afternoon, Karen.” The custody sergeant nodded at the young PCSO. “Still can’t let it go, eh?”

  She shook her head. “Any progress, Sarge?”

  “I suppose you could call it that. We’ve managed to convince the old woman that there’s no point in the waste of money and time trying to get a conviction over her cheap little phone. She was hurt, I know, but when we questioned her, she admitted that she fell more than was pushed. More than anything she was looking for a bit of fuss really but she still can’t remember much of what was said. Anyway, we’ve allocated her a victim support officer and it seems to have been enough. I don’t think she can really face the thought of court and lawyers and all of that. She’s got her phone back, so that part of it is all about settled.”

  “And the girl?”

  “Well, it’s pretty clear what it’s all about, isn’t it? She still won’t talk to anyone, but we’ve contacted immigration. They’ve got experts who usually manage to get through to these poor sods. We’re trying to find out where she entered the country, ports and what not, assuming she came in through one of them and not on a dinghy across the channel. Eventually, she’ll give it up, she has to, and then more than likely she’ll just be given a caution and be sent home, wherever that might be.”

  “Has she been given her photographs?” Karen asked.

  “No, we showed them to her. There were tears, as you would expect, but we’re holding them back for now. She’ll be given all her stuff in due course, but they’re the only thing we’ve got that she has really reacted to. Poor bloody woman. You know, I’ve got a daughter about the same age; makes you think, doesn’t it?”

  “When will she be transferred, do you know?”

  “We have to get clearance from the CPS that there aren’t going to be any charges, and then we need to get her taken away. We can’t just let her loose, not if she won’t prove she’s here legally, and with no passport, well...” He shrugged. “They are trying to find some sort of accommodation until her fate is decided. Hopefully, we’ll be rid of her sometime this afternoon, or possibly tomorrow morning. Depends on when they can send for her.”

  “Can you let me know? I’d like to, oh I don’t know, just say goodbye or something.”

  “You can’t let them get to you. Not like this.” He looked into Karen’s eyes, sad and hopeful. “Oh, go on then. I’ll let you know. They won’t let you go with her, you know.”

  “No, but I just thought a familiar face might make it all less scary.”

  “Aye, alright then. You’d better bugger off in the meantime and do some work.”

  “Yes, Sarge. Thanks.”

  * * *

  Steven Traynor tried his best to be antagonistic and confrontational. His bitten finger nails, the outbreak of eczema on the back of his hands, and around his neck where his collar rubbed, spoiled the image of a controlling and annoyed club official.

  Tanya told him that he could open the course again. The small wooden hut was however still out of bounds.

  “Nobody will want to go in there anyway,” he growled. “We’re going to have it pulled down, going to burn the wood and dig up the area.”

  “You do realise that you will have to wait until we give you the okay, don’t you?” Tanya said.

  “Well, bloody obvious that, isn’t it? If that’s all, I have stuff to attend to. We’re having a meeting of the committee to see how we are going to deal with the PR backlash. Have you seen the bloody newspapers? We need to attract new members. That’s not happening, not with us being christened the Course of Horror and all the other stupid bloody stuff.”

  “Well, I’m afraid there’s not much we can do about that. I would advise that you keep your contact with the press to a minimum, that way the interest will wane more quickly, in my experience,” Tanya said.

  “Well, as I say, it’s a major problem for me right now, so…” He began to raise himself from his chair.

  “There is one more thing, I’m afraid.”

  He lowered himself with an exaggerated sigh. “Yes?”

  “We need a record of your deliveries, over the last three weeks.”

  “Deliveries?”

  “Yes, the companies that you receive things from, times of receipt, the type of goods, you know, just details. The type of vehicle used, anything really that might help us.”

  He clasped his hands tightly together on the desk; they were shaking. She wondered if it was anger or something else, something more sinister. Tanya pressed home the advantage.

  “What we’re looking for really is a white van. A VW, a few years old, no company markings. It was picked up on the CCTV and we think it could be of interest. Does that ring any bells with you?”

  “No, no – I don’t deal with that stuff. The bar manager sees to all of that.”

  “What, everything?” she asked.

  “Pretty much. There is some stuff for the pro shop but that’s run as a sort of subsidiary by one of the big sports companies. They are only open three days a week. You’d have to speak to them.”

  “No, that’s not it, I don’t think. This was at the clubhouse, we reckon,” Tanya said.

  “Oh well, you’d have to speak to Jamie; he handles that, as I say.”

  “Could you maybe call him in for us?”

  “What. Oh, no, he’s off. You can’t see him today.”

  “In that case, we need his address,” said Finch. He had been silent up until this brief interjection. Steven Traynor glanced from one to the other.

  “He hasn’t done anything. I can’t think why you want to bother him. I don’t know whether I can give you his address – data protection and all that – and you must have taken it already, mustn’t you? So that’s harassment, probably.”

  Brian Finch leaned across the desk, Traynor’s chair moved backwards on its casters.

  “This is a murder enquiry. That means that if we ask you for something, you give it to us. Is there something there that you don’t understand, Mr Traynor?” Finch said.

  “The personnel files are in the cabinet.” Traynor pointed to a set of metal drawers in the corner of the room.

  “Excellent. If you would?” Finch said.

  They didn’t see it coming. They heard his breath quicken, watched as he paled, but when he cried out and grabbed at his chest it took them a moment to realise what was happening. It wasn’t until he slumped to the floor that they reacted.

  “Shit, call an ambulance!” Tanya ran around the desk and leaned down to lay fingers against Steven Traynor’s neck. “Oh, bloody hell. There was a defibrillator in the club room, go and get it, Brian. Hurry up. Shift!” She turned Traynor onto his back and began to pump at his chest.

  “Oh, you sod, you sod. Don’t you dare do this, have you any bloody idea of the paperwork?”

  Chapter 35

  By the time the first responders arrived, Steven Traynor’s heart was beating again. There was a feeble, thready pulse in his neck. His colour was terrible though, and there was no sign of him regaining consciousness. The paramedics congratulated Tanya. “If he survives this, it’ll all be down to you,” they said. But when she asked what his chances were, they shrugge
d and shook their heads, mouths turned down in the, well it’s not looking good, expression she had expected.

  Someone had to go to his home, notify his wife, and take her to the hospital. Tanya knew that if she did that she would be stuck there, waiting for a uniformed WPC so they could play pass the parcel with the woman who would no doubt be distraught. Surely it was better to send a patrol car in the first place. Best idea was for it to be an officer who could deliver the news, accompany the wife, and then sit and wait until they found out whether or not he would live. She made the call while Brian Finch searched in the filing cabinet for the personnel file of Jamie Mulholland.

  “I don’t suppose we can take this with us?” he said.

  “Not without a warrant; probably shouldn’t really be looking. Just get some pictures, will you?”

  There was nothing much in the file, a date showing the start of his employment two years earlier. There was a couple of casual, handwritten references, most likely from friends – the letters were on plain paper, no letterheads, no official stamps. His NI number was there, and Tanya texted it through to Charlie along with a previous address in Kirkby on Merseyside.

  He sent back a smiley face.

  Back at the police station, they gave her a round of applause as she entered the incident room. “Good going, ma’am.” Kate gave her a thumbs up. “I know we’re supposed to know how to use a defib, but I’m not sure I’d have the nerve. Well, what I mean is, it’s basically electrocuting someone isn’t it.”

  “It was easy to use, Kate. The machine talks to you. It tells you exactly what to do. To be honest, we had nothing to lose, he was pretty much dead. Anyway, it’s not looking good – he’s in intensive care, apparently critical. I have a feeling he’s not going to make it.”

  She threw her jacket across the back of a chair and stood beside the notice board. “DI Finch and I went to Jamie Mulholland’s address. It’s a flat, there was nobody home. We’ve left a message for him to call us, soon as. His phone goes right to voicemail, again I left a message. But it’s only one line of enquiry. Traynor’s reaction to questioning notwithstanding, we have no real proof that the bloke has done anything wrong. We mustn’t lose sight of the fact that this crime could actually be nothing to do with the golf club.” She held up her hand to quiet the murmur of comment. “It’s possible that they have become involved, I guess you could say, by accident. It was a convenient place to dump a body and nothing more.

  “Any luck with the white van yet?” She glanced around the room.

  “We’ve had the view of the driver’s face enhanced,” Kate Lewis said.

  “Well?”

  “A couple of us think that it could be that bar manager. But it’s not conclusive, just the size really and something about the way he moves. Youngish, you know. Fit. Of course, we might be seeing that because we want it to be him. Especially now that we know he’s vanished.” She shrugged, acknowledging that it was weak.

  “Right, so it’s been a different sort of a day.” A couple of them laughed quietly. “But at the end of it, we are no further along. I’m open to suggestions, but I reckon we are going to have to go over old ground again – see what we’ve missed. There must be something here to dig at. Oh, and I’ll have a look at that video myself,” Tanya said.

  Something, some sixth sense, sent a jolt of anticipation through her as the phone rang. The ones standing near to her heard her mutter. “Bugger.” She glanced around as she picked up the handset. Those who knew her from past cases paused and watched her face.

  “Right. There we are then. Baker. The guy who found our male body” – she paused – “dead in his car in the garage at his home. Pipe from the exhaust, doors and windows closed tight.”

  She should take Finch with her, of course she should. She looked around the room. “DS Harris, could you come with me, please?”

  Before there was time for any comment, she grabbed her coat and strode out and along the corridor, Paul Harris rushing to catch up with her. “My car, I’ll drop you back later.”

  Chapter 36

  “So, what do we know?” Tanya glanced at Paul Harris who was reading the full report on his phone.

  “Found by the gardener who heard the car running and broke into the garage. He dragged Baker out, but he was unresponsive. The paramedics weren’t able to do anything, so that’s where we’re at right now. The first responder declared life extinct. Nobody else at the house. A car has been sent to fetch the wife from her office. The medical examiner and so on are on the way, they’ll probably get there before we do.”

  The road outside Baker’s house was lined with cars. The neighbours stood beside their gates in solemn groups. They must have known there would be little to see but strobing blue lights and sirens had brought them out. The coroner’s car was pulled into the driveway and officers were in the process of screening the area. Tanya and Paul had to pick their way through the equipment. They didn’t go into the garage but stood near the door watching the activity.

  She raised a hand to the medical examiner, not Simon this time but Lisa Cummings, a relative newcomer to the team at the morgue. She stood and crossed the garage from beside the big black Pajero. The windows at the side of the building had been opened and the ones in the front door had been smashed; glass littered the entrance.

  Tanya shook hands with the doctor who had pulled off her gloves. “What do you think?” she asked.

  “Well, all indications at the moment are that he asphyxiated on the fumes which entered the car by way of that pipe.” She pointed across the garage. “The gardener broke in, tried to ventilate the area and what not, but it was already too late. I can’t tell you any more until I finish my examination. As you see he was dragged onto the floor in the efforts to revive him, but it was no good.”

  “Note?”

  “Nothing that I’ve seen. She indicated the team who were moving around quietly. “Your people haven’t found one anywhere here, as far as I know. But there are more officers in the house.”

  “Okay. Thanks, doctor. One of my team will attend the post-mortem if that’s okay.”

  “Fine, probably tomorrow morning, I’ll ask Moira to let you know.”

  In the house, Tanya searched out Dave Chance, the senior SOCO. “Quite the place this, eh?” he said. They gazed around at the artwork on the walls, the blonde wood floors, and antique furnishings. “Bit like my place actually.”

  Tanya grinned at him. “That right?”

  “Yeah, I’ve got stairs and walls, floors, all of it.” He smiled at her, acknowledging the daft back and forth. “Right, so, the only thing we’ve found of interest is an empty medicine packet in the kitchen; anxiolytics. The date on the packet is recent but the pills have all gone, and there’s a glass on the counter – empty. We’ve bagged them.”

  “I know he was on medication for his nerves, so that sounds logical.”

  “Do you know him then?” Dave asked.

  “No, not really. He’s a witness, or rather he was – in my current case. One of them at any rate.”

  “Ah, I wondered why all the fuss, and then they said you were on the way.”

  “Did he leave a note?”

  “We haven’t found anything. They don’t always, you know. If anything does show up, I’ll give you a call. So, he’s involved with the headless golfer?”

  “He found the body – him and his friend,” Tanya said.

  “Bloody hell, not been a good week for him, has it?”

  “No, I guess not. I’ll leave you to it, Dave.”

  As she moved away, the car she had last seen outside the golf club, turned into the drive. The passenger door flew open and Patricia Baker stumbled out. As she went towards the open garage, one of the uniformed constables stepped in and turned her away. She didn’t struggle but leaned to try and see past. They led her gently towards the house. A tall, dark-haired man climbed from the driver’s side door and stood for a moment, unsure which direction to take; finally striding to the little
group entering the front door and wrapping his arms around Tricia Baker’s shoulders.

  Chapter 37

  “Perhaps we could sit in here?” As she spoke, Tanya indicated the room where they had interviewed Peter Baker on the visit just a few days previously. “I’m afraid there are people in the other rooms.” She knew this space had already been screened and cleared.

  “What exactly is going on?” This from the man who had driven the car.

  “I’m sorry, who are you, sir?” Tanya asked.

  “This is my brother, Robin – Robin Turner. But what is going on, what is all this…?” Tricia Baker’s eyes flicked back and forth taking in the suited figures in her kitchen and hallway.

  “I’m sorry, Mrs Baker; sir,” Tanya said. “We’re looking after your husband, and these other people are just trying to find out exactly what has happened.”

  “How long will it take?” There was a hint of hysteria as Tricia pushed to her feet and turned towards the door. Tanya strode across and laid a hand on her arm.

  “I’m sorry, just at the moment that’s not possible to say.”

  “They told me that I needed to come home, and now I find this – this pantomime.” Tears had flooded her eyes and her brother handed her his handkerchief.

  “As soon as possible I’ll make sure you’re given as much information as is available. Please try and be patient,” Tanya said.

  It seemed that it was suddenly too much, and the woman sank to the sofa and buried her face in her hands and sobbed. Robin Turner sat beside her and drew her into his arms. Raising his head, he addressed Tanya directly. “I don’t think there is anything to be gained by you standing there. How long will all these people–” he waved a hand to encompass the rooms around them “– be here, and what exactly are they doing?”

  “They are just making sure there is nothing that we should know about. You must be aware Mr Baker was involved in the discovery of a body in the last week, and we must be sure there’s nothing to connect that crime to what has happened here today. It’s just what we have to do. I’m sorry, I understand it’s very upsetting. Maybe it would be better if you could go somewhere else?”

 

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