An Unfamiliar Murder

by Jane Isaac

  When Helen looked up, the color had completely drained from Rab’s face. He stared at them, wide eyed in horror. She was expecting some distress – he was looking at his dead father and the date and time was clearly noted on the still, but was that a flicker of recognition in his eyes? A shot of adrenalin rushed through her.

  “Rab, these are images taken from the Newsagents in Weston on the morning your father was killed.” She pointed at them one by one. He opened his mouth, appeared to be trying to say something, but closed it again. “And this is an artists impression,” she pointed to the e-fit, “based on witness descriptions of the man who was seen with Ross on the night he disappeared.”

  Rab looked like he had seen a ghost. “Have you seen him before?”

  He nodded silently.

  “Do you know his name?”

  Rab nodded, then placed his head in his hands. “I don’t believe this . . .”

  * * *

  Pemberton met Helen on the stairs on her way back up to the incident room. “The Super wants to see you in his office.”

  “He can wait,” she said rushing past him. “Get everyone together, now!”

  Helen was buzzing and by the time she had relayed the story to her team each one had contracted her excitement.

  “I want the suspect located as a matter of urgency, but don’t do anything rash. We are dealing with a potentially deranged, possibly psychopathic, but certainly very dangerous man. I want everyone on it. This is our priority. Right, that’s it.”

  It was with renewed vigor that she climbed the stairs to the Super’s office. Finally, they had turned a corner. It was only a matter of time now before they had a result, she was sure of it, and she couldn’t wait to share the news.

  June, Superintendent’s Jenkins’ secretary, was securing stray strands of hair back into a loose bun at the back of her head. She looked up as Helen approached her desk. Her kind face showed remnants of prettiness in younger years, but sagged with age. “Go straight in. They’re expecting you,” she said briskly.

  They, thought Helen. When Pemberton had told her that the Super wanted to see her he hadn’t mentioned company. Don’t tell me Sawford has arrived early, after all? Her heart suddenly sank. She knocked briefly at the door and entered before receiving invitation.

  “Ahhh . . . Helen. Thanks for coming.” Jenkins was seated behind his desk, a nonchalant look on his face. As she closed the door, she was surprised to see that it was Townsend standing at the far side of the office.

  Townsend nodded at her briefly before fixing his eyes on the Super. The knowing look that they appeared to share did not escape her attention.

  “You asked to see me?”

  “Yes, Helen. Take a seat.” He pointed with an open hand at the chair opposite his desk.

  “Thank you.” She approached the chair and moved it out slightly, placing it at an angle so that she could see Townsend in her peripheral vision. Something about the cool atmosphere made her very suspicious. She sat herself down, taking time to arrange her suit jacket, before resting her hands in her lap and lifting her head to face the Super, in an attempt to feign confidence. Her nose twitched at the faint smell of furniture polish that filled the air.

  “Helen, Townsend here has just been updating me on your case,” Jenkins said, nodding briefly in his direction before slowly pressing his hands flat together and lifting them up so that the point of his fingers touched his chin.

  “Good,” she replied with as much confidence as she could muster. She wasn’t going to give them any help at all. What is Townsend up to?

  The room went very quiet, as if he were expecting her to say more. Instead, Helen allowed her eyes to wander to the window. All traces of sunshine had now disappeared as the day had subsided into a dank, grey fog.

  “I understand that you have released Aaron Gravell?” Jenkins continued eventually, lacing his fingers in and out of each other. “Can you explain your reasoning behind this decision?”

  Surely Townsend wasn’t out to undermine her? He wouldn’t, would he? She sat upright in her chair, opening up her diaphragm. “Certainly, sir. He was interviewed and has an alibi, which has been substantiated. We have no evidence to hold him.” She looked directly at Townsend who, it seemed, was deliberately avoiding eye contact. Well, she was not going to make this easy for him.

  Jenkins looked across at Townsend. “Inspector Townsend here,” he briefly inclined his head towards the Inspector, “believes he was released too early.” He gave a backwards nod. “Perhaps you would enlighten us, Townsend.”

  There was the first body blow. Helen could feel her nostrils flare. How dare he?

  “Yes, sir,” answered Townsend. “Interviews with the Gravell’s family neighbor in Ripley, and with Kathleen Cottrell, show that he knew about the set up in the Cottrell household. He was rejected when he tried to establish a relationship with them. He had shown a particular interest in Anna and knew that she was adopted. It wouldn’t have been too difficult to trace her natural father.”

  Helen pictured Aaron Gravell in her mind. The family man who was so completely comfortable in his own skin, that he almost appeared to enjoy being interviewed in connection with a murder case. She couldn’t help herself. “What about his alibi? Motive?” she cut in.

  Townsend finally looked across at her, narrowing his eyes contemptuously. “His wife is his alibi. She’s lying. It’s obvious,” he sneered.

  The Super shifted in his chair.

  Townsend raised his voice a decibel. “Christ, he’s the best suspect we’ve had so far. We just need a bit more time - to match up the witness profiles, unravel his motive.”

  Helen turned to face the Super. “Sir, I can see no reason why I should pay my detectives overtime to work through the night to find a case when there is absolutely no evidence. We are continuing routine enquiries into Aaron Gravell’s background as part of the wider investigation, but I do not see him as a suspect at this time.”

  “That’s because you didn’t find him,” Townsend actually hissed these words through clenched teeth.

  Helen could feel the heat of the blood, rushing through her brain cells. How dare he? She fought to keep herself calm. “On the contrary, Inspector, it was excellent police work – your discovering the Gravell family background.” Dueling for a fight, her compliment clearly startled him. Helen ignored him and ploughed on, “But we actually have a clearer suspect in our sights that matches both our witness profiles.”

  She was aware of Townsend’s head jolting, his face clouding over, but it was Jenkins who spoke first, “Why wasn’t I informed of this?”

  “It’s only just been confirmed. This morning Rab McCafferty identified the CCTV still of the man who was seen with Jim McCafferty on the day of his murder. The still shares the same characteristics as the man seen with Ross on the night of his disappearance.” She paused for a moment, glancing sideways to watch the color drain from Townsend’s face. Strangely, it didn’t give her any pleasure.

  “His name is Kane Edwards. He was a prison guard at Lardell, one of the prisons where Rab was detained. Rab describes him as a nasty piece of work, a bit of a social inadequate who supplied the prison heavies with drugs and sim cards for their illegal mobile phones. In return, they made his life comfortable through their contacts on the outside – cash, women on tap, that sort of thing. Basically he was on their payroll.” She couldn’t hide the excitement in her voice. “Rab and he never got on. Three months ago he was shopped and suspended - just at the time when Rab was moved to an open prison. Rab wasn’t involved but his cellmate gave a statement incriminating Edwards.” She paused for a moment. “Apparently Kane vowed to revenge the person who shopped him. Due to their mutual dislike Rab believes that he blames him, instead of his cellmate, and this is his revenge.”

  The Super raised his eyebrows. “Why his sister? Why not go after him?” he asked.

  “Maybe that would have been too obvious. But he knew about Rab’s desire to meet up with Anna afte
r his release. He had access to his cell in prison to obtain personal details, addresses and the like, and clearly has a motive to upset Rab’s family.”

  “Have we located him?”

  “My team are tracing him as we speak.”

  The ring of his phone interrupted them briefly. The call lasted less than a minute. Finally, Jenkins nodded several times, finishing up with a, “Certainly.” He replaced the receiver, looked at his watch and stood. He looked over at Townsend, who glanced away, then turned to Helen. “Well, that seems to have resolved the issue. This seems to be a case of misunderstanding. I’ll leave you two to sort it out. I’ve been called up to see the Chief, so I’ll brief him on the latest developments whilst I’m there. Let me know as soon as you find this Edwards.” Helen pressed her lips together and nodded. He stopped and turned as he reached the door. “What about this Rab McCafferty?” he asked. “Have we put anyone with him?”

  “An undercover, I’ll make sure we watch him 24 hours.”

  “Right, well, ring the moment you have something. And don’t forget, Sawford is joining you today, perhaps he can assist with the search?” And with that he left the room with the haste of a man consumed by ambition. She didn’t miss Townsend widen his eyes at this remark. Just like a scorpion, Helen thought to herself, the sting is always in the tail.

  The room went very quiet. She turned slowly to face Townsend who appeared to have lost his composure, his head hung like a naughty schoolboy. When she finally spoke she kept her voice calm and even. “In future, if you have any concerns about the investigation, I’d be grateful if you would come to me instead of trying to take my legs.”

  Those final words got his attention. ‘Taking legs’ was a phrase used in the force when another police officer went behind a colleague’s back, seeking to undermine them. He shot her an icy glare. “Not a very nice feeling is it?”

  She felt her teeth clench, but maintained her steely reserve. “What?”

  “You’ve sidelined me ever since we began this investigation.”

  She could feel her anger rising. “Simon, it was you who was smoking in the car park, missing important details through first briefing, you who went off and carried out your own covert

  investigation . . .”

  “You didn’t even want to speak to me on the phone that first evening,” he interrupted.

  Helen took a deep breath and rolled her eyes. This was like dealing with a child. “It doesn’t take an Inspector to secure a crime scene. Your skills were far more valuable to me in setting up an incident room, arranging for resources, so that we could get started at the earliest opportunity . . .”

  Townsend screwed up his own face. “You think you are so high and mighty, don’t you? Better than the rest of us . . .” His voice was acidic.

  “I beg your pardon?” she asked.

  “Can’t bear anyone else taking the glory, can you? You felt threatened by me right from the beginning, by my experience, so you cut me out.”

  She fought hard to keep her reserve. “Frankly, Simon, this inquiry has been dogged by your lack of support and negativity throughout. You’re supposed to be my Deputy.”

  “There you go again. ‘Supposed’. You think you can come here with your flashy degree, take some exams and step straight into your father’s shoes.”

  The mention of her father caught her slightly. It was a low ball. “Let’s remember who is in charge here, Simon. I give the orders. You obey them. If you’re not able to do that, then you’re in the wrong job.”

  “My record speaks for itself. Good police work. That’s what counts. I got a result in the West Country.”

  His sheer arrogance flabbergasted Helen. “What counts is obeying orders. Have I not made myself clear enough? God, Simon, I shouldn’t need to explain force discipline to an officer of your service, or rank for that matter.”

  Townsend’s face turned to stone as he ignored her comments and continued, “It was obvious from the first time I spoke to you on this case. I could hear the contempt in your voice. The same contempt as when I left Hampton. You people, you don’t care whose toes you tread on, how many careers you ruin, to get to the top.”

  The truth was that Helen had no idea why Townsend had left the Area all those years ago. Of course, his sudden departure had fuelled all sorts of rumors. The most popular assumption was that the bosses had engineered the move due to his laziness, he wasn’t nicknamed ‘cuff’ for his diligence in investigating jobs that was for sure. Then there was the incident with WPC Bland . . .

  But she had had quite enough. She leant forward, spoke loudly. “Simon, I honestly had no idea why you left the Area eight years ago, but I can assure you it had nothing to do with me.”

  “Yeah, right . . .”

  “That is right!” The decibels in her voice rose with each syllable. He shook his head as she continued, “I suggest that you check out your facts before you go around accusing people in future!”

  She took a deep, seething breath through her teeth, let it out slowly. “I refuse to continue with this conversation, other than to repeat that you are seriously mistaken about your accusations.” She made to go, but turned as she faced the door, “I’m going back to the incident room. You have two choices – either put this behind you, come down and do your job properly, or leave. Because if you give me any reason, any reason at all, to think that you are not following orders in future I’ll throw the book at you. How dare you undermine me, go behind my back and question my abilities!” With that she turned on her heels.

  Helen marched down the stairs angrily. Had he really harbored this misconceived grudge against her for all these years? More likely, it was a mixture of jealousy and guilt. The question was, how did an officer with his track record and inability to work in a team, manage to make Acting Inspector?

  Chapter Twenty

  “He’s done a runner.”

  Helen stared at a frustrated Pemberton and then looked around the room at her weary team. During her absence in the Super’s office they had all been on phones, searching computers, speaking to neighboring forces, in an attempt to locate their suspect. “What do you mean?” Helen asked. “Somebody must know where he is?”

  “We’ve checked with Lardell force and the prison,” Pemberton said. “Edwards was arrested for possession with intent to supply cannabis at Lardell prison, but they only caught him with 1 oz altogether, so he was released on bail pending enquiries. That’s when he did a moonlight flit. They didn’t realize until he failed to answer his bail four weeks ago.”

  “What about his car, bank accounts, credit cards? He must have used his phone?”

  “It seems he planned out his escape very carefully. He withdrew the last £800 from his bank account two days before he was due to appear. There has been no activity on his mobile. We can’t trace his car – good chance he’s trashed it if he’s planned this - and there has been no activity on his credit card, although he has left rather a large debt outstanding. It seems our Mr. Edwards was intent on not going to prison.” This wasn’t surprising. Nobody liked a bent prison guard, not police, other guards or prisoners, no matter how many of the latter owed him favors.

  “So what is he doing for money? Somebody must be looking after him?”

  “Best case scenario is that the group he was working for in the prison have taken him under their wing, put him up in some shithole and he’ll be selling drugs for them. Probably even lent him a car, too. That way he can just work in cash which is untraceable.”

  “What have Lardell done to try to find him?”

  Pemberton shrugged. “He’s not high priority for them. Just a ‘fail to answer bail’. With resources pushed as they are, he’ll be another open case file for an overloaded Area detective.”

  Helen sighed loudly. “Well he’s high priority to us. Look, we know he was in Hampton last week. The chances are that he is still in the locality. Get our own detectives to check their contacts in the field. Someone must either know him or know of him
. Try the drugs team too. If your theory is right then a new face on the block would not go unnoticed.”

  Heads nodded as Helen continued, “Make sure that we circulate the stills throughout our force, particularly to the instant response team. We need all our people to keep their ears and eyes open. And circulate them to neighboring forces, too. Oh, and get me Jack Coulson on the phone please?” she barked at Pemberton. “We’ll see if we can get his image onto the front page of the tomorrow’s Hampton Herald.”

  * * *

  It was almost four when Helen heard somebody holler, “Afternoon!”

  She looked up from her desk to see a short, wiry man standing at the entrance to the incident room. Her team looked back at him, a few nodded, others just stared. It wasn’t surprising really, as she hadn’t shared the new arrangement with them yet. She had needed them focused on finding their suspect.

  George Sawford strode purposefully through the incident room and entered her office without knocking.

  “Afternoon, Helen,” he said.

  “George.” She shook his proffered hand.

  He was no taller the 5 ft 2 inches, with fox like features and a clump of light, brown hair on his head which permanently stuck up around the crown area. George had joined Hamptonshire force in the early 1990s (when they had dropped the height restrictions). Rising quickly through the ranks, he was known for his ambitious nature and attention to detail. For the last 9 years he had served as a Senior Investigating Officer, managing murder investigations, cold case review and sitting on review panels. But he was also well known for the cunning chip on his shoulder. He was driven to find something, to get a result at whatever cost. It was almost as if he had something to prove to the world.