‘Agreed. Apart from anything else there’s another game tomorrow night. We don’t want some sort of major public order problem, if the two tribes decide to go to war again.’
‘I’ll talk to the divisional Super about how we deal with that. I want to have plenty of bodies on the ground.’
Hall laughed.
‘You know what I mean, Andy. Our bodies, looking for witnesses. We could certainly do with them.’
‘Sounds good. Make sure you get a decent night’s sleep, Jane.’
‘Do as I say, not do as I do.’
‘Always.’ She could hear the smile in his voice, and she missed him.
‘Have you thought about that other thing, Andy?’
‘Of course. I need a bit more time. But I’m not against the idea, not at all. How are you feeling about it?’
‘The same. I’ve made up my mind, but if you’re not in complete agreement, then….’
‘I know, don’t worry. So you get some rest, yes? Don’t stay up ’til all hours working on the files.’
‘I won’t. Goodnight, Andy.’
Tuesday, 22nd April
Jenny Walker was waiting for Jane Francis when she and Ian Mann reached the incident room at just after eight, and the three of them stood in front of the big monitor.
‘There’s hours of footage’ she said, ‘but here’s the bit we’re interested in. It starts at 10.45pm. Look, there’s Pete Crone and his mates getting stuck in.’
The quality of the footage was remarkably high, especially when the game was on the well-let council office car park. It was perfectly possible to make out many of the faces, especially when the camera moved over the centre of the scrum, and some of the players looked up.
‘There’s sound as well’ said Jenny, turning up the volume. There were shouts, mostly indistinct and muffled, so Jane gestured for Jenny to turn the volume down.
The three of them stood and watched the footage in silence.
‘Did this bloke keep filming right through to when Chris Brown was seen in the water?’
‘Yes, ma’am. Apparently the idea was to have very long takes, for some sort of artistic purpose.’
‘It’s like watching paint dry’ said Mann. ‘Nothing’s happening at all, is it? There’s just a group of blokes in a huge scrum, with the odd one entering and leaving. It’s much more exciting to play than to watch, I can tell you.’
After five more minutes the ball suddenly appeared, and many hands reached skywards, trying to grab it. Then it disappeared again, but the scrum did start to move, across the kerb at the side of the car park, through the remains of a low hedge, and down the bank into the beck.
‘The cameraman didn’t want to get his feet wet, so he stays on the bank’ said Jenny. ‘And it’s really dark when they’re off the car park there, so it’s hard to see much from here on. But one thing is clear, a couple of the casualties were left behind before the scrum went into the water, you can just see them on the ground.’
And then, quite suddenly, the ball appeared again, thrown high and hard back towards the car park.
‘That’s someone trying to pass it off to a mate outside the scrum’ said Mann. ‘The idea is that they run off with the ball. Sometimes it works, especially when it’s dark, and one player gets clean away and hails the ball.’
‘Well that didn’t happen this time’ said Jenny. ‘Look, the scrum quickly re-forms back on the car park. The person who got the ball was caught straight away, and the scrum just gathers round him again.’
‘It often happens like that’ said Mann. ‘So when is Chris Brown spotted? Do we see that?’
‘Just another twenty seconds.’ For the first time the camera wavered, as the person filming tried to decide what to shoot. And then he started moving, back towards the bank of the beck. Then, quite suddenly, the screen went dark.
‘Why did he stop filming?’ asked Jane.
‘He went to try to help. He said he guessed that someone was in trouble.’
‘Shit.’
‘Very public spirited though’ said Mann. ‘So what can we get from this, do you reckon?’
‘Could we get a second-by-second picture of who was in the scrum, do you think?’ Jane asked Jenny, before she could reply to Mann.
‘Possibly. It would mean going through the footage more or less frame by frame. But if I had someone who recognised the players, then it might be possible.’
‘Right. I’ve got a candidate for that job.’ Jane looked round. DC Iredale had just walked in. He was wearing a bright yellow cycling jacket.
‘Keith’ Jane called out, ‘can you put that jacket out and come over here for a second?’
‘Sorry, boss. I thought I’d better put my head round the door before I got changed.’
‘Don’t worry about it. I want you to work with Jenny today, and go through this footage she’s got hold of. I want to know who is in the scrum from 10.30pm until the time the camera goes off. So log everyone who you know to be in there at any time, and especially the time that they joined or left the scrum.’
‘OK, boss. Will do.’
‘And then I want to know, as a matter of urgency, if anyone was in that scrum who we don’t already know about.
‘Got you.’
‘Now, will you recognise everyone?’
‘Probably not. Is it all right if I ask the DI or the DS if not? They’ll probably know.’
Jane hesitated, and glanced across at Mann. He nodded.
‘Yes, OK. And I need this done before the game starts tonight. They haven’t cancelled it, have they?’
‘No. Mr. and Mrs. Brown asked for it to go ahead. They’ll be presented with the ball from Friday, and Mr. Brown will throw the ball up at half six. That’s how it starts, like.’
‘Good. That’s nice, I suppose. And Jenny, would you send DCI Hall a link to the footage on the shared drive? I think he’ll want to review it today.’
‘Better than watching re-runs of Trisha’ said Mann, smiling. ‘Probably less violent, too.’
It was almost noon before Jane had finished going through the background on Chris Brown. She’d found absolutely nothing to arouse her suspicions about him. When she’d finished she sat and looked, without reading or even seeing, at her computer screen. She told herself that she’d kept an open mind, but she knew what she’d wanted to find. She’d wanted him to have died an innocent, and she wanted George Hayton and Jack Moffett to confirm that for her. She might not believe them, but she wanted to hear them both say it anyway.
She’d agreed with Ian Mann to call on Moffett first, and he punched the address into his sat-nav and drove them there. The house was on the edge of a village a few miles inland from Workington, and Mann stopped the car at the end of the long drive.
‘He’s got protection, look.’
Jane did look and didn’t see anyone, so Mann pointed them out.
‘I doubt they’re local lads’ he said, when he pulled up in from of the house. ‘They look too sharp and well trained. Just stay in the car for a minute, Jane. They know we’re coming, but I’ll have a quick word first.’
Mann opened the door and got out of the car. One of the security men walked over, and Jane saw another out of the corner of her eye.
‘Are you carrying?’ the security guard was saying to Mann.
‘No. Are you?’
‘Mind if I check?’
‘Aye, I do.’ Mann showed his warrant card, and the guard studiously ignored it.
‘Then you need to get back in the car, and drive back to where you came from.’
‘That won’t happen. We’re here on lawful business. Either we walk in and talk to your boss right now, or I radio in and we get a search warrant and a van full of coppers, and then we take him down to the nick. You and your mates too, I expect. And just to be on the safe side I’ll call in armed response as well.’
‘All right. Follow me.’
Mann tapped on the window and Jane got out. The house was a Victoria
n mansion, of the manicured and polished sort, which Mann guessed had once belonged to a local mine owner. Moffett was waiting for them in the study. Jane introduced herself and Mann, and they showed their ID.
‘It’s about time that your lot got some new blood. I was just saying that to the Chief Constable, when I last saw him.’
‘We’re only here temporarily’ said Jane, ‘looking into the circumstances surrounding the death of Chris Brown at the Uppies and Downies game on Friday evening.’
‘Aye, terrible that was. Tragic. But shit happens, as they say.’
‘And you’re expecting some shit to happen to you too, are you?’ said Mann.
‘It speaks. What gives you that idea, son?’
‘Your security. Not local, I’d say.’
‘What makes you say that?’
‘Just a guess.’
‘Oh aye? And why wouldn’t I give the work to local lads?’
‘Because you don’t trust them. You’d rather have people who you pay for their loyalty.’
‘And why would that be?’
‘Because you’re frightened.’
Moffett’s face was reddening under his tan. ’You must be confusing me with someone else, son. Jack Moffett isn’t scared of nobody. You ask anyone.’
‘Like George Hayton?’
‘Especially him. I remember when he was nicking the stereos out of cars and selling them for a fiver a time. Always had bits of glass in his hair, did young George.’
‘Times change though, eh?’
Moffett looked steadily at Jane. ‘You just keep him as your wind-up merchant, do you, love?’
‘DS Mann is just concerned for your safety, that’s all.’
‘I can take care of myself.’
‘We do hope so. One death might be an accident, but two would look like carelessness.’
‘Like I said, that kid died in an accident. I’ve never even met him. Wouldn’t have known him from Adam.’
‘But you can confirm that some of your boys and some of Hayton’s did meet up to settle their differences in the game on Friday last?’
‘Mebbe. There’s no law against it.’
‘Actually, there are a number of laws against it, and we could arrest several of your lads for affray, if they weren’t already in hospital. So make sure that everyone behaves themselves tonight, won’t you? We’ll be watching. But I guess you’ve lost, and that’s it. And that’s why you’re holed up here, paying those mercenaries outside to keep an eye on you. Why not cut your losses, and go to your place in Spain?’
For the first time Moffett looked alarmed.
‘How did you know about that?’
‘Just a lucky guess. So you’re cutting and running, are you?’
‘No way; of course I’m not. Just getting a bit of spring sun, that’s all.’
‘And what if I told you that we can’t allow you to leave the UK, until this is cleared up?’
‘What if I’m in danger?’
‘But you’re not. You just said as much. You’re the lord of all you survey, aren’t you?’
‘Oh aye, that’s right. So you want me to stay around then?’
‘That’s right. Of course, if we could get this matter resolved quickly then you’d be free to go wherever you want. So long as you weren’t involved in Chris Brown’s death, of course.’
‘So what are you after?’
‘Your co-operation, Mr. Moffett. So if DS Mann or me calls you for a chat, at any time from now on, you will do absolutely everything you can to help, won’t you?’
Ian Mann waved to the security man in the garden as they drove out.
‘Now there’s a man who’s on the way out, one way or another. When they show fear like that, they may as well be dead. Because if Hayton doesn’t take him down now, then one of his own guys will.’
‘Do you think he’ll give us anything?’
‘Probably not. It depends how desperate he gets, I suppose. But I wouldn’t hold your breath. Chances are he’s got a fortune tucked away offshore somewhere. And it’s an achievement to have lasted this long. How old is he, 55?’
‘Something like that.’
‘He’s done well then, bloody well. In a big city someone like that hits the top of that game in their twenties and probably only has three or four years before either we get them, their rivals do, or one of their own lads saves everyone else the bother. There are butterflies with longer life-cycles than the likes of Jack Moffett.’
‘Do you think we can write him off as a suspect then?’
‘Never. He wouldn’t think twice about having that kid killed if he thought it would help him save his own skin.’
‘But I just can’t see any possible connection between Chris Brown and Moffett, or with Hayton either, come to that.’
‘So I didn’t miss anything then, Jane? When I did the background on Chris Brown, like.’
Jane looked round and saw that Mann was smiling. She was pleased, and a bit surprised. It wasn’t really the reaction that she’d expected.
‘No, nothing. The kid was either incredibly careful, and really clever, or he was as clean as a whistle. In a way I almost wish he weren’t. At least he’d have died for something then.’
Mann nodded and drove on in silence. Eventually he spoke.
‘It’s the randomness, isn’t it? You can never get your head round it. But what Andy said is right. It’s too much of a co-incidence to have several serious injuries, all gang related and definitely deliberate, and this accidental death happening all at the same time. They must be connected somehow. Anyway, it’s friend Hayton next, is it?’
‘No, let’s pay a quick visit to our film-maker, shall we?’
‘Is it worth it? He’s not local. His footage will be the most useful thing he’s got for us, won’t it?’
‘Put it down to curiosity, if you like.’
‘You’re the boss. Where’s he staying?’
Alex Baker was waiting for them in the bar of the hotel when they arrived. He was older than Jane had expected, perhaps about her own age. Baker offered to buy them both a coffee, but Jane refused and left Mann to go to the bar and order for them.
‘I’ve never spoken to a detective before’ Baker said. ‘My only dealings with the police have been when they’ve tried to stop me filming in public places.’
‘Tried to?’
He laughed. ‘You’re right, I’ve always stopped. Some people make an issue of it, but I just don’t have the balls for it, I suppose. It’s yet another erosion of our liberties, and I know I should say something, but the police are so intimidating, close up.’
Jane nodded. ‘I sometimes think that the only people we do intimidate these days are the ones who’ve got nothing to worry about. You wouldn’t believe how some people, kids even, speak to us.’
‘The Met’s bad press can’t have helped. It just seems to be one thing after another. Do you think they’ll have to reorganise now? Change their name to protect the guilty, maybe?’
‘The normal procedure is that we ask the questions, Mr. Baker.’
‘Alex, please. So what do you want to know? I have given a statement, and you’ve already got all of the footage I shot on Friday. Every last second of it.’
Mann came back to the table with a tray and sat down.
‘I was after a bit of background, as much as anything’ said Jane, when Baker had thanked Mann for his coffee. ‘What made you come all the way up here to film Uppies and Downies?’
‘It’s a sort of hobby, really. I film all sorts of old customs and practices, all over Britain. I’ve wanted to do this one for years.’
‘And what happens to your films, when they’re finished?’
‘I put them up online, so people can see them.’
‘Free?’ asked Mann.
‘Yes. As I said, it’s a hobby.’
‘And what is it you do, as a job?’
‘I work in a planning department for a local council. I’m based in Guildford. M
y films are just a way of recording things before they disappear.’
‘Do you think Uppies and Downies will disappear?’
‘I don’t know. But it will certainly change, because everything does. It used to be really big, you know. The game used to get up into the town pretty regularly, and one time the scrum even went into the cinema, when a film was actually showing. Can you imagine? Popcorn flying everywhere, I expect. I’d love to have filmed that happening.’
‘So did you contact anyone before you came up?’
‘No. The thing about events like this is that they don’t have any organisers, not really. So you just turn up, and get on with it. One of the problems about filming almost anything now is that it’s all so controlled. In a way games like Uppies and Downies are just a reminder of when people were free to do what they wanted. I suppose that’s what attracts me, really.’
‘Even if people get hurt?’
‘They don’t, not usually. I spoke to a few people on Friday night, and they were shocked, really shocked about what happened. But I heard that there was some sort of gang thing going on. It’s in my statement.’
‘Yes, we’re aware of that, thanks. So give us your impressions, of the game I mean.’
‘What I expected, really. The atmosphere was good before the start, very friendly, and the game got off to a slow start. It doesn’t help that someone like me let the local Council build it’s HQ right on the pitch, but that’s how it goes I suppose. Anyway, I didn’t notice anything was amiss, right up until I heard all the shouting about that poor lad being in the water.’
‘What did you do then?’
‘Tried to help of course, as best I could.’
‘And you weren’t filming, when he was being bought to the bank?’
‘No. Like I say, I was trying to help. It’s not a war zone, and I’m not a reporter. It’s just my hobby really, a bit of fun. Maybe, in a hundred years time, someone will look at my stuff, but I’m not banking on it. And if they do it’ll probably the the stuff that I filmed by accident that they’ll be interested in, because those are the things that no-one bothers to record at the time.’
Hail and Farewell (The Lakeland Murders) Page 6