Heads or Tails (The DI Nick Dixon Crime Series Book 7)

by Damien Boyd

  ‘No.’

  ‘He’s lying,’ said Dixon.

  ‘What about?’ asked Jane.

  ‘All of it.’

  A knock at the door stopped Douglas in the middle of yet more denials. Baxter stepped outside the interview room, reappearing a few moments later carrying three evidence bags.

  ‘You may wish to take a moment to discuss these developments with your solicitor, Warren,’ said Baxter.

  ‘What developments?’

  ‘This is a fleam.’ Baxter placed an evidence bag on the table in front of Douglas. ‘It was found under the loft insulation in the extension at the back of your house.’

  Douglas leaned forward, his head in his hands.

  ‘This,’ Baxter allowed the second bag to drop on to the table with a bang, ‘is a trephine. It was under the floorboards in your kitchen. Any thoughts on that, Warren?’

  Dixon smiled. He was enjoying the irony in Baxter’s voice. Or was it sarcasm?

  ‘And this last one contains eleven circular pieces of skull,’ continued Baxter. ‘They’ve been identified as human remains.’

  No reply.

  ‘They were behind an air brick in your garage.’

  ‘I don’t . . . I . . .’

  ‘I’ll tell you what we’ve also got.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘The Polaroid camera.’ Baxter smiled. ‘D’you know, Angela had kept it all this time. She had your Walkman too, and your electric shaver complete with hair samples. But then you thought she might, which is why you went looking for it, isn’t that right?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘And this is a photograph taken on that same camera.’ Baxter dropped the photograph of Dermot McGann on to the table in front of Douglas. ‘Isn’t it?’

  Silence.

  ‘I tell you what we haven’t found yet, but we will.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘The rest of the photographs. I’m assuming you took two and kept a set. There’ll be eleven more, won’t there? If you add Paul Butler and the body on Exmoor to the nine victims we know about.’

  Baxter waited.

  ‘And what can you tell me about “heads or tails”?’ he continued.

  ‘No comment,’ said Dixon.

  ‘No comment,’ mumbled Douglas.

  ‘Are there any more victims we don’t know about?’

  ‘No comment.’

  ‘I think I’d like to have a moment to discuss these new developments with my client,’ said Douglas’s solicitor.

  ‘Tell us where the other bodies are, Warren.’ Baxter leaned forwards. ‘There are families who need closure. They need to bury their dead, to grieve.’

  Douglas looked up and stared into the camera, giving it his best penetrating glare.

  ‘Twat,’ muttered Dixon.

  ‘What about Paul Butler’s widow, Warren?’ continued Baxter. ‘She thinks he committed suicide, but we know different, don’t we?’

  ‘No comment.’

  ‘This interview is terminated at 3.24 p.m.’ Baxter was looking at his watch. ‘Take as long as you need, Miss Allsopp. Your client’s not going anywhere.’

  ‘We’ll need a news blackout,’ said Dixon, when Baxter and Janice walked into the anteroom.

  ‘Hang on a minute.’ Baxter dropped his papers on to the table. ‘It’ll be the biggest news story in Manchester for years. We catch The Vet and—’

  ‘Wrong. We caught The Vet. Avon and Somerset, and he’s a senior Manchester officer. I’d have thought you’d want to keep that quiet.’

  ‘It’ll have to come out at some point.’ Baxter was shaking his head.

  ‘Yes, but not before we’ve got Toby Horan.’

  ‘Whoever he is . . .’ Janice’s voice tailed off.

  ‘Oh, I know who he is,’ said Dixon, with a wry smile. ‘And how to find him.’

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Dixon waited until they were out on to the M56 before he rang DCI Lewis.

  ‘Well, have you got him?’

  ‘Detective Chief Superintendent Warren Douglas is in custody.’

  ‘You son of a—’

  ‘Thank you, Sir.’

  ‘What about the other one? Hargreaves?’

  ‘He shot himself before he could be arrested.’

  ‘Where are the others?’

  ‘Janice and Louise are staying in Manchester to continue the interviews with Douglas. Dave and Mark are helping with the searches and will be travelling back tomorrow.’

  ‘What about you?’

  ‘We’re on the way now.’

  ‘Is there anything you need from me?’

  ‘How far have they got at the factory?’ asked Dixon.

  ‘A search team are in there now.’

  ‘We need to tell Horan what he wants to hear. Can you get a press release out saying that the search team have found three bodies? Or two and they’re still looking for the third.’

  ‘But, they’ll only find two, surely?’

  ‘That’s right. It also needs to say that a firearm has been recovered from the scene and that we’re not now looking for anyone else in connection with the recent murders.’

  ‘You want me to get Vicky Thomas to lie again?’

  ‘It’s not really a lie, is it? We’re not looking for anyone else. Just Horan.’

  ‘That’s a bit of a stretch, isn’t it?’

  ‘It’s semantics, Sir,’ replied Dixon. ‘It just needs to be worded so that Horan will think he’s in the clear.’

  ‘What about the MIT?’

  ‘We’ll have to get Chard out of the way. Can you get Deborah Potter on board and ask her to summon him to a meeting at Portishead?’

  ‘When?’

  ‘Tomorrow.’ Dixon looked at Jane driving the car and raised his eyebrows. ‘If that doesn’t work, tell him there’s been a sighting of Horan on the Shetland Islands.’

  ‘You’re a cheeky sod. I’ll see what I can do,’ said Lewis. ‘What’s the plan then?’

  ‘There’s a joint training exercise tomorrow night, Sir. The RNLI, the BARB hovercraft and the Coastguard. If Horan thinks it’s safe, he’ll be there. And so will we.’

  Dixon’s phone buzzed as Jane parked behind the cottage. She wrenched on the handbrake and then switched off the engine. It was just before 9 p.m. and pitch dark, the light on his phone illuminating the passenger compartment of Jane’s car. Monty sat up, having been curled up asleep in the passenger footwell since they picked him up from Jane’s parents in Worle.

  ‘Who is it?’ she asked.

  Dixon handed her the phone and she read the message aloud. ‘Welcome back to the land of the living. You are a credit to A&S Police. Deborah Potter.’

  ‘Looks like Lewis has done his bit,’ said Dixon, opening the passenger door and moving his legs to allow Monty to jump out. ‘Now we’ve just got to hope Horan turns up tomorrow night.’

  ‘And if he doesn’t?’

  ‘We’ll worry about that tomorrow.’

  ‘What do we do until then?’

  ‘Sleep,’ replied Dixon, yawning.

  He opened the back door of the cottage and switched on the lights.

  ‘If you’re quick, we’ll catch the news,’ said Jane, watching Monty sniffing along the hedge.

  Dixon switched on the TV.

  ‘Structural engineers spent the day at the scene of Thursday’s fire at a furniture factory in Somerset. The building was finally made safe late this afternoon allowing fire officers to gain access to the loading bay for the first time since sections of the roof collapsed during a fire that raged for over twenty-four hours.’

  ‘It’s on,’ shouted Dixon.

  ‘Two bodies have been recovered from the scene so far and the search continues for a third. A firearm has also been recovered. Sapna Ghosh is at the scene.’

  ‘That’s Lewis on the left,’ said Jane, from the doorway behind Dixon. ‘I’m sure it is. You can see his arm.’

  ‘Smoke is still rising from the embers of the old Bailey and Whyt
e furniture factory here in Highbridge, and you can see fire fighters behind me are still pouring water into the main building as efforts to dampen it down continue. Much of the roof has collapsed and those sections that remain were finally made safe late this afternoon. Three fire officers using breathing apparatus were then able to gain access to the loading bay via the factory floor. We’ve not been able to send cameras in there at this stage . . .’

  ‘Bloody good job,’ muttered Dixon.

  ‘. . . but we are told that two bodies have so far been recovered, as well as a firearm. It has also been confirmed that the fire was started deliberately . . .’

  ‘No shit.’

  ‘. . . late on Wednesday night. In a separate development, police have confirmed that they are now not looking for anyone else in connection with the recent murders of David Cobb and Harry Lucas, bringing to an end the largest manhunt in Avon and Somerset Police history. I have with me Detective Chief Inspector Lewis of Bridgwater CID.’

  ‘He’s got his hand in his pocket,’ said Jane.

  ‘Probably got his fingers crossed.’

  ‘What can you tell us, Chief Inspector?’

  ‘We’ve been able to identify the two bodies recovered from the loading bay. We’ve also recovered a firearm and what we believe to be the murder weapon used in the murders of David Cobb and Harry Lucas. The search continues for a third body, but I can confirm that we are now not seeking anyone else in connection with the murders.’

  ‘Thank you, Chief Inspector.’ She turned back to the camera. ‘This is Sapna Ghosh for BBC Points West in Highbridge, Somerset.’

  ‘I thought he did rather well.’ Dixon was putting the kettle on.

  ‘Me too.’

  ‘And he didn’t actually lie, did he?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘All we need now is the newspapers and internet news to run it too.’

  ‘It’s on the BBC website front page, not just the Somerset news.’ Jane was looking at her phone. ‘It’s even on Burnham-on-Sea dot com.’

  ‘And Horan to see it.’

  ‘Where did that bit about the murder weapon come from?’

  ‘No idea.’

  They were watching a similar report on Sky News, recorded earlier, during daylight hours, when there was a knock at the front door.

  ‘Thought you’d be back by now,’ said Lewis.

  ‘Come in, Sir,’ said Dixon, stepping aside to let him in.

  ‘Cup of tea, Sir?’ asked Jane.

  ‘Got anything stronger?’

  ‘A beer?’

  ‘That’ll do.’

  ‘We’ve just been watching you on the telly,’ said Dixon, smiling.

  ‘Was it all right?’

  ‘Perfect. And you didn’t lie, except for that bit about the murder weapon.’

  ‘That was true.’

  ‘Really?’

  ‘We recovered a trephine from the remains of a coat on the floor in the loading bay.’

  ‘That’ll be Horan’s. They’ve got Douglas’s trephine in Manchester.’

  ‘And the coat?’

  ‘Mine. The crafty buggers must have put it in my pocket when they left the gun in my hand. Still, it all adds authenticity to the news report.’

  Dixon pushed Monty off the sofa and Lewis sat down. ‘What did The Vet have to say for himself then?’

  ‘Denials. Then he switched to “no comment” when they presented him with his trephine and the bits of skull.’

  ‘You really need some more furniture in here,’ said Lewis. ‘An armchair or something.’

  Jane rolled her eyes as she handed him a can of beer and a glass.

  ‘How did you get on with Deborah Potter?’ asked Dixon.

  ‘Fine. Quite a fan of yours, it seems. She’s going to keep Chard out of the way tomorrow.’

  ‘Good.’

  ‘What time’s the training exercise?’

  ‘Seven. We’ll need some more legs though,’ replied Dixon. ‘Dave and Mark should be back from Manchester. Janice and Louise possibly.’

  ‘And me,’ said Lewis, grinning. ‘I’m not missing this.’

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  ‘What time is it?’

  ‘Ten past eleven.’

  Dixon noticed light streaming in through a gap in the curtains. ‘In the morning?’

  ‘I made you a coffee, but it’ll be stone cold by now.’

  ‘What time did we come to bed?’

  ‘Elevenish. We were watching The Shawshank Redemption, and you fell asleep.’

  Dixon yawned. ‘Twelve hours?’

  ‘Yep.’

  ‘Well, I don’t believe I fell asleep in front of The Shawshank Redemption.’

  ‘You did.’

  He shook his head. ‘What about Monty?’

  ‘He’s been fed and been out,’ replied Jane, sitting up. ‘Dave and Mark are on their way back and will be here just after lunch. Janice and Louise are leaving at two and will be here by seven.’

  ‘And Cole?’

  ‘It’s his day off, but he said he’d come.’

  ‘Did you tell him what for?’

  ‘No.’

  Dixon sat up and picked up the mug on his bedside table. ‘Any chance of a fresh coffee?’ he asked.

  ‘What d’you want for breakfast?’ Dixon was watching Monty from the kitchen window and eating a bowl of cornflakes.

  ‘I had some earlier,’ replied Jane. She opened the back door to let Monty in. ‘So, what do we do for the rest of the day?’

  ‘We wait.’

  ‘Is that you or me?’ asked Jane, when a phone started ringing in the bedroom.

  Dixon delayed his answer until Jane was already halfway up the stairs. ‘Mine,’ he whispered.

  ‘It’s yours.’

  ‘Is it?’

  ‘Hi, Jan, how’s it going?’ Jane appeared on the landing. ‘Yeah, he’s fine. Hang on, I’ll pass you over.’

  Jane dropped Dixon’s phone over the bannister and he caught it, wincing as he did so.

  ‘Sorry,’ said Jane. ‘I forgot.’

  ‘Hi, Jan.’

  ‘The good news is Douglas is offering us a deal: the Carters in return for immunity.’

  ‘Immunity?’ Dixon laughed. ‘That’s not good news, Jan; that’s taking the piss.’

  ‘He knows where they are.’

  ‘He’s murdered ten people we know about.’ Dixon was pacing up and down in front of the television. ‘Eleven if you include Paul Butler.’

  ‘He denied killing Butler.’

  ‘I bet he did. He knows we haven’t got any evidence.’

  ‘Baxter’s reluctant, but then he’s Counter Corruption.’

  ‘Look, Janice. Tell him no deal. All right?’

  ‘But he says he knows where the Carters are.’

  ‘So do I. You said that was the good news. What’s the bad?’

  ‘The Manchester Daily Post has got hold of the story. They’re going to put it live on their website at midnight and it’ll be on the front page of the paper tomorrow.’

  ‘What story?’

  ‘The arrest of The Vet.’

  ‘Nothing else?’

  ‘No. GMP must have a leak. Baxter’s got the Chief Constable leaning on the editor, but it’s such a big story . . .’

  ‘Relax, Jan. If Horan does what I expect him to do, it’ll all be over by then anyway.’

  ‘So, it’s no deal.’

  ‘That’s right.’

  ‘Can I tell him you know where the Carters are?’

  ‘Yes. Tell him I know where both of them are. And tell Louise I’m still waiting for the result of that last DNA test.’

  Jane waited until Dixon rang off. ‘So, where are they then?’

  ‘Kettle’s boiled,’ replied Dixon, smiling. ‘D’you want that coffee?’

  Dixon was in the shower when he heard voices downstairs. Then Jane tapped on the door.

  ‘Who is it?’ asked Dixon, wiping away the condensation on the glass and peering out.
>
  ‘Dave and Mark. They’ve been in the pub for a bite to eat.’

  ‘What’s the time?’

  ‘Nearly five. Lewis is on his way and Cole will be here soon too.’

  ‘All right, I’m coming.’

  By the time he was dressed, DCI Lewis had arrived. He was sitting at the dining table with a mug of tea, watching Dave Harding and Mark Pearce watching the local news on the TV.

  Dixon was halfway down the stairs when there was a knock at the door, and Jane opened it.

  ‘Holy shit,’ said Cole, looking up. ‘You’re supposed to be . . . I thought you were . . .’

  ‘You look like you’ve seen a ghost,’ said Jane, smiling. ‘I’ve always wanted to say that to someone.’

  ‘Don’t just stand there, Cole, come in,’ said Dixon.

  ‘And you lot knew all the time?’

  ‘Yep,’ said Pearce, without taking his eyes off the screen. ‘Here we go; they’re running it again.’

  A different newsreader confirmed that the search for a third body continued, then switched to Sapna Ghosh at the factory. She interviewed Chief Fire Officer Stewart who said that huge piles of smouldering furniture were hampering the search team.

  ‘He’s a good lad, is John,’ said Lewis.

  ‘The Chief Fire Officer is in on it?’ asked Cole.

  ‘Yes.’

  Then came an interview with Deborah Potter, who gave much the same information as DCI Lewis had the night before.

  ‘So, we were after that Horan bloke for nothing then?’ asked Cole.

  ‘You know, this might just work,’ said Lewis, smiling.

  Janice and Louise arrived just as Jane was reversing out from behind the cottage.

  ‘We hit the rush hour traffic at Bristol,’ shouted Janice, leaning across the passenger seat of her car.

  Louise had jumped out and was waiting while Dixon wound down the passenger window on Jane’s car. She handed him an envelope.

  ‘This is the DNA test result, Sir.’

  ‘What does it say?’

  ‘You were right.’

  Dixon smiled. ‘Tell Janice to follow us.’

  ‘Yes, Sir.’

  ‘Right about what?’ asked Jane.

  ‘You’ll see,’ replied Dixon. ‘With a bit of luck.’

  The jetty was a hive of activity when Dixon and Jane drove along the sea front and turned into the short stay car park. Dixon was wearing a bobble hat to hide the dressing on the side of his head, and a pair of gloves. A couple of days’ worth of stubble completed his disguise.