Hail and Farewell (The Lakeland Murders)

by J. J. Salkeld

‘Well it wasn’t the CPS, was it?’ said Mann, and Smith clinked his glass.

  ‘Nice one. So any new developments, on the Brown case, like? We heard you had some bloke’s video tape of the whole thing.’

  Mann took a sip of his drink.

  ‘Look, lads, I shouldn’t be telling you this, but since there’s really nowt new to tell I will. Aye, we did get that video, but the bloke stopped filming as soon as he saw that something was wrong, and you can’t see very much in the minute or two before that anyway.’

  ‘Shame’ said Smith. ‘So no solid evidence there then?’

  ‘Doesn’t look like it. Unless the bloke got more, that he’s holding back for some reason.’

  ‘Because he thinks it might have a value to someone, you mean?’

  ‘Aye, could be. It’s possible, but I doubt it. The rest of it is boring as shit, I can tell you. Anyway, can I buy you boys a beer, before I head off to watch the game?’

  Jane Francis was wondering what all the fuss was about. It had been twenty minutes since the game had begun, after a perfectly observed two minute silence in memory of Chris Brown, and as far as she could tell nothing had happened. Andy loved cricket, so perhaps he’d see the attraction, but as far as Jane could tell even less happened in this game. She was mildly surprised that it was even possible for that to be the case.

  ‘They’re being careful, love’ one woman onlooker had said to her, ‘after what happened the other night.’

  The scrum was stationary, as it had been for some time, on the path that ran alongside Cloffocks Beck. Jane was wondering how much more she could put up with. She was starting to get hungry, and though it was dry there was a strong, chilly breeze blowing. Her hands were cold, and she felt tired.

  ‘Evening, boss’ said Keith Iredale.

  He was pushing his bicycle, and it was a long time since Jane had seen a grown man who didn’t look ridiculous in lycra.

  ‘How far have you got to go?’

  ‘Not far, just back to Maryport. It only takes me quarter of an hour, so I don’t bother driving usually.’

  ‘Any sign of either of our targets?’

  ‘No, neither of them are here. Not at the moment, anyway. You don’t think they’ve got wind of our interest, do you?’

  ‘There’s no reason to think that, is there, Keith?’

  ‘No, boss.’

  ‘Don’t worry about it, then. They’ll keep until the morning. Unless you think they might do a bunk, head for some tropical island or something.’

  ‘What, like the Isle of Man?’

  Iredale was grinning.

  ‘Their horizons aren’t all that wide, you mean?’ said Jane.

  ‘Aye, that’s about it. And you know what they say about the Isle of Man round here, don’t you?’

  Jane thought about it, and shook her head.

  ‘If you can see the Isle of Man then it’s going to rain’ said Iredale.

  ‘And if you can’t then it already is?’

  They both laughed.

  ‘So are you ever tempted to move away then, Keith? I take it you’re local.’

  ‘Oh aye, born and bred. I’m a right stick-in-the-mud, me. My dad was a copper here too, so I haven’t shown much imagination at all, I suppose. But I’ve never wanted to live anywhere else, and I’ve never wanted to do owt else either.’

  ‘I envy you.’

  ‘Do you? I sometimes wonder what I’m missing, like. They tell me that there’s actually a whole world out beyond Carlisle, but I’m a bit sceptical, like.’

  ‘So what do you do when you’re not working?’

  ‘I keep myself busy. I ride my bike, I run a bit. Oh, and I do a bit of climbing and walking.’

  ‘So which gym do you belong to?’

  It took Iredale a moment to realise that Jane was joking.

  ‘Aye, it saves me a few quid, does living round here.’

  ‘So where’s a nice place for a stroll after work? Nothing too strenuous, but enough to blow the cobwebs away.’

  ‘Somewhere on the coast, maybe a bit north of here. Allonby, maybe. It’s a pretty village, and there’s pubs and things too. You can walk along the beach for miles, right up to Silloth if you want.’

  ‘That sounds perfect, thanks.’

  They watched the game for a couple of minutes.

  ‘So there’s no Mrs. Iredale, then?’

  ‘No. Probably should be by now, but it’s not happened so far like.’

  ‘You’re still a young man. You’ve got years yet.’

  ‘I’ll be thirty-two next birthday. If I was a rugby player, I’d be about retired by now.’

  Jane was surprised. ‘I thought you were younger.’

  ‘Because I’m only a DC?’

  ‘I didn’t mean that. I was forty last birthday, and I’m only one rank on from you.’

  ‘But you had a job before, didn’t you, boss?’

  ‘Call me Jane. You make me feel about ninety. But yes, I did. I worked in a research lab for quite a few years after university.’

  ‘That must have been interesting. Worthwhile too, I expect.’

  ‘It was. But when you’ve done a job like that for a few years you start to think a bit more about yourself, and a bit less about other people. That probably sounds very selfish.’

  ‘No, of course not. You did your time, I reckon. What were you were working on?’

  ‘Developing drugs to increase fertility.’

  ‘Oh aye, and did you make any progress?’

  ‘Me? Not so as you’d notice, Keith.’

  Iredale pushed his bike backwards and forwards.

  ‘Well, if you don’t need me I better get off.’

  ‘You do that. We’ve got plenty of eyes on the game tonight, don’t you worry.’

  ‘Look, there’s that Baker bloke, filming away again.’

  ‘He’s certainly keen.’

  ‘He is that. Funny bloke, coming all this way just to watch this, but I’m glad he’s here. In a way, like.’

  Jane nodded.

  ‘I know what you mean. This is pretty amazing though, isn’t it? All those people playing a game with no referee. There aren’t even any rules, for Christ’s sake. And the only way that you can tell who’s playing for which side is if you know the other players, isn’t that right? They all look the same to me.’

  ‘True enough. There’ll be people in that scrum whose ancestors would have played for the same side, going back generations. It makes you think, like.’

  Iredale nodded a farewell, and pushed his bike away. Jane watched him for a moment, then turned back to the game. The scrum still hadn’t moved.

  ‘Sod this for a game if soldiers’ she said, to no-one in particular. ‘I’m going to get some scran.’

  It was almost one am before the game finally finished, when the ball was hailed down at the capstan on the docks. There were only twenty or thirty players left by then. Alex Baker stayed until the very end, and then packed away his kit while the last of the players drifted away. He was almost back to town, thinking about the footage he’d shot and trying not to think about his aching back. It wasn’t easy, because the pain was sharp and intense now. He’d been on his feet for too long, he knew that, and his gear was heavy.

  Baker didn’t see who it was who attacked him, and he only heard rapid footsteps for a second before the first blow fell. He must have banged his head when he went down, because when he came round there were a small group of people standing around.

  ‘Don’t move, mate, said one. We’ve called for the police and an ambulance.’

  He lifted his head up, and looked for his camera bag. But it had gone. Of course it had.

  Wednesday, 23rd April

  Jane knocked hard on Mann’s hotel room door.

  ‘Come on, Ian. We need to get to the hospital.’

  Mann opened the door. He looked tired, and hung over.

  ‘I’ll drive’ said Jane. ‘Those bloody idiots didn’t think to let us know when it happened l
ast night. I only found out when I checked my email.’

  ‘Didn’t think, or decided not to?’ asked Mann, pulling his door closed behind him.

  ‘We’ll find that out later. Let’s go and see Alex Baker first.’

  ‘Have you spoken to Andy?’

  ‘Yes, just now. He suggested that we get his hotel room looked over, as soon as. I sent a uniform round there and he said the door had been forced, so I’ve got him standing guard until Sandy Smith turns up. The bobby knows that he’s dead meat if he, or anyone else, sets foot inside that room.’

  ‘Typical bloody Andy. He just guessed, did he?’

  ‘He did, but it was always likely. Baker’s gear was taken when he was attacked, so what’s the betting that his laptop and everything else has been nicked as well?’

  ‘Odds on. But Baker’s OK?’

  ‘They’re keeping him in for observation. He got a bit of a bang on the head, apparently.’

  ‘Welcome to Workington, eh?’

  Alex Baker was sitting up in bed in a private room in the hospital. He looked rather better than Ian Mann.

  ‘I’m fine. They’re just keeping me in for a few more hours because I hit my head, that’s all.’

  ‘So what can you remember about the attack?’ asked Jane.

  ‘Not much, I’m afraid. Someone knocked me down, and I must have blacked out, because when I came round they’d gone.’

  ‘Any idea how many of them there were?’

  ‘I’ve been thinking about this, and I just have this feeling that there were two, but don’t ask me why. I couldn’t tell you. Not really.’

  ‘And they took your camera bag?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘And that’s all?’

  ‘Yes. My wallet, phone, car keys, they’re all still here.’

  ‘So all your footage from last night is gone?’

  ‘I’m afraid so. The memory cards were in the bag. Still, I’ve got my footage from Friday anyway. That’s back in the hotel.’

  Jane glanced across at Mann.

  ‘Unfortunately that’s probably gone as well, or at least your laptop and portable hard drive has. Your hotel room has been turned over. I’m really sorry that this has happened to you. But of course we’ve got copies of it all at the station, so we’ll be able to send it all back to you again I’m sure. That was everything you shot though, wasn’t it?’

  ‘Oh, yes, of course. Why do you ask?’

  ‘Just checking, that’s all.’

  ‘So they were targeting my footage, not me? Last night, I mean.’

  ‘It certainly looks that way. We’re going to need a list of everything that you had with you, and that’s now missing. Serial numbers too, if you have them.’

  ‘Not a problem.’

  ‘Just a couple of other questions.’

  ‘Fire away. I’m not going anywhere for a bit.’

  ‘Were you aware of anyone following you, or taking a special interest in what you were doing?’

  ‘Last night? No, I don’t think so. I certainly didn’t notice, but then I’m totally absorbed when I’m filming. So it’s not impossible, I suppose.’

  ‘All right, thanks. But if you think of anything you will get in touch, won’t you?’

  ‘Of course.’

  ‘One final thing, and we’ll leave you in peace. Did you stay with the game the whole time last night, right until the end?’

  ‘Yes. The whole time.’

  ‘You didn’t go for a drink, get something to eat, anything like that?’

  ‘No, I had a sandwich and a drink with me. That’s the thing about Uppies and Downies, you never know what’s going to happen or when, do you? And I’ll tell you one thing.’

  ‘Yes, what’s that?”

  ‘I’m glad that someone just wanted my footage, and that I wasn’t the target. I’d find that much more upsetting somehow. Does that make any sense to you?’

  ‘Yes, Mr. Baker, of course it does. Now you relax, and get a bit of rest.’

  ‘I hate fucking hotels’ said Sandy Smith, by way of greeting. Jane tried to look sympathetic, but Mann just smiled. He thought it would annoy her even more, and he was right.

  ‘Plenty of DNA about then, is there?’

  ‘If you knew how much, and where it is, you’d never stay in one of these fucking places again, Ian. And I use the word advisedly, for once. But I expect you just make a tent out of a hollowed out cow when you go away, don’t you? Just like when you were a soldier boy.’

  ‘It’s the only way. Food, and then a roof over your head, all in one handy package. That’s the cow for you.’

  ‘You don’t want DNA do you, Jane?’ asked Sandy, smiling now. ‘Please tell me you do or I’ll be here for bloody months. I doubt we’ve got enough swabs back at the lab.’

  ‘No, Sandy, of course not. It’s just a burglary, but a potentially important one. So just prints from the areas of interest. Where the laptop was sitting, his bag, the door handle, all that sort of thing.’

  ‘Forget the door handle. The local bobbies out here are about as much use a chocolate fireguard. One of them already told me that he opened the door with his bare hands, the plank.’

  ‘Really?’ said Jane. ‘What was his number?’

  ‘I was too busy shouting at him to notice. He’s fucked off somewhere now, anyway. But he looked like most of the bobbies out here, daft as a fucking brush.’ Sandy looked straight at the young PC who was standing outside the room, and he had the good sense to look away. Jane smiled apologetically when she caught his eye.

  ‘So how long do you need, Sandy?’

  ‘Half an hour. It’s not worth any more. Pound to a penny we’ll get nowt of interest. I bet the CCTV will give you much more. They have got fucking electricity out here now though, haven’t they?’

  The young bobby coughed. ‘Sorry, ma’am’ he said, ‘but the hotel’s CCTV wasn’t working last night. It went off at about five, apparently.’

  ‘Really?’ said Jane.

  ‘Sorry, ma’am. Looks like that’s a dead end, I suppose.’

  Mann laughed in his face.

  ‘You won’t make CID, son, not with an attitude like that. This is a new line of enquiry connected to a very serious offence, so this is when the proper police work starts. Any guesses about what we’ll do next?’

  ‘Find out why the CCTV stopped working?’

  ‘Good idea, son. Now you’re thinking. Sandy, can you get your CCTV boffin over here, pronto? Meantime, son, you get down to the office and tell them that no-one is to touch the CCTV equipment until we’ve checked it over. We’ll also find out how reliable it is usually, like. And that’s not all we’ll do. Do you want to take another guess about what else we’ll investigate?’

  ‘You’ll interview whoever was on duty, on reception and stuff.’

  ‘I expect that’s already been done’ said Jane, ‘but if it hasn’t then it will be. But what Ian is getting at is that there will be other CCTV around here, won’t there? Outside the hotel. So we’ll be able to analyse that now, too. So if someone did deliberately interfere with that CCTV then they’ve actually done us a favour in a way, because they’ve just drawn some extra attention to themselves.’

  ‘Yes, ma’am. So that’s good then. Or I suppose it is, anyway.’

  Mann smiled again. ‘On your way, son.’

  Jane began the team meeting by briefing the group of half a dozen sworn officers and three civilian analysts on the burglary and the required CCTV follow-ups.

  ‘Any questions, before I move on?’ she said, when she’d finished.

  There was a pause, and then a uniformed PC put his hand up.

  ‘This lack of CCTV at the hotel, boss?’

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘Is it a regular problem, like?’

  ‘That’s one of the thing that the SOCO boffin will be looking at, supported by Jenny here.’

  ‘I suppose what I’m asking is…’

  ‘Do we think that there was any collusion b
etween the perpetrator and the hotel staff?’

  ‘Yes, boss.’

  ‘I’m certainly not ruling it out. Let’s proceed on the basis that it’s a possibility at least. And that brings me to the other new line of enquiry. Keith, would you fill us in?’

  Iredale looked a bit surprised, but pleased, to be asked.

  ‘Thanks, boss. The detailed analysis of Alex Baker’s video footage from Good Friday has proved that, at the time of Chris Brown’s death, there were two additional payers in the scrum, who have neither come forward nor been identified in any witness statements. Both will be known to many of you. Matt Hayton,’ Iredale paused to let the groan pass, ‘and Tony Gambles.’ This time the groan was a bit less loud.

  ‘Don’t shoot the messenger’ said Jane. ‘Go on, Keith.’

  ‘We have Gambles entering the scrum at 10.42, and Hayton two minutes later. And we’re pretty sure that both were still in the scrum when Brown died, because Alex Baker only turned his camera off when people started shouting about someone being left in the beck. And we certainly don’t see either of them exiting the scrum up to that point.’

  ‘So we’re not absolutely certain that they were still in there?’ asked a uniformed sergeant called Ron Waters.

  ‘No’ said Jane. ‘We can’t be absolutely certain who was in the scrum at the time of Brown’s death, because Baker’s video isn’t like CCTV. We haven’t got every single angle covered. But in a way that’s not the point, is it? Because these two men are now of very real interest to us. Why didn’t they come forward? We’ve made a public appeal, after all. And why weren’t they named on anyone’s statement?’

  ‘Exactly, boss’ said Iredale. ‘So we’re going to need to do two things. First, we’re going to need to re-interview everyone who’s made a statement and who we know to have been in the scrum at or around 11pm on Friday night. Ron, would you lead on that?’

  The uniformed sergeant nodded, but he looked uncomfortable. ‘Yes, marrer?’ said Iredale. ‘Was there something else?’

  ‘How about the DI and the DS? Who’s talking to them, like?’