by Salkeld, J J
‘A good while back. He’s been gone a year, you say? Well at least a year before that, maybe a bit more.’
‘Could the cash have been coming from the Bucklands?’
‘The Bucklands? Who are they?’
‘It’s OK, Jimmy. We know that Cliff was working for the Bucklands. It was one of the family, Billy, who told us. And we’re not interested in them, OK? We’re only interested in what happened to Cliff. You understand what I’m saying here?’
Walters nodded.
‘OK then. So was Cliff doing extra work for the Bucklands? Is that where the cash came from?’
Jimmy didn’t hesitate. ‘No, definitely not.’
‘How can you be so sure?’
‘Because I do a bit of work for them too, cash in hand like. In fact I copped for some of the work that Cliff was doing when he left. It’s useful money, don’t get me wrong, but Cliff had more than that. I’m sure of it.’
‘And did Cliff have a mobile phone?’
‘Oh aye, of course. We’re not bloody dinosaurs out here, you know.’
‘I’m sure. And did he use email? The internet, anything like that.’
‘Nah. I don’t think so, anyway. He never mentioned it if he did.’
‘OK, let’s leave that. Tell me a bit more about Cliff. You’d known him for years, I expect?’
‘Oh aye. We were at school together. At least, we bunked off school together. I’ve known him all these years. You don’t get many lifelong friends do you? People come and go, like, but Cliff was always around.’
‘What was he like?’
‘A good lad. Liked a drink, liked a fight, you know, a good lad. But he got bored, and used to get these ideas in his head. Then he’d go on about them until you stopped listening. He didn’t seem to mind that.’
‘What sort of ideas?’
‘There were lots, over the years. When he was younger they were usually to do with his dad, and the reasons he went away when Cliff was a bairn. For the last few years it was different though, all about his gypsy blood. He said he was a gypsy, a Traveller. Maybe he was like, I don’t know, but his grandad knew my grandad, I know that much. They used to work together in the shipyard.’
‘So you didn’t believe him?’
‘Honestly, no. Cliff was my best mate, and I’ll miss him, but he was a bit of a bullshitter, truth be told. Half of what he said was made up, and the rest was what you call it?’
‘Exaggerated.’
‘Aye, exaggerated.’
‘But the money he had was real?’
‘Oh aye, the money was real enough all right. No doubt about that, bonny lad.’
Jane Francis was waiting outside Rita Bose’s school for the ten minutes before the bell went. She watched the mums, most of whom looked years younger than her, coming to collect their kids. She watched the little ones hugging them hard, and the boys pleading to be allowed to go and play for an hour before tea. Jane tried to put herself in those mums’ comfy shoes, to look down on those kids and feel nothing but love and contentment, but she couldn’t. And she was glad, because that particular ship had sailed. Not biologically perhaps, not quite anyway, but she knew that Andy’s nappy changing days were well and truly over.
She sat and gave the stragglers another five minutes to leave, and then she walked onto the playground. A young Asian woman, who Jane thought could easily still be at school herself, opened the door when Jane rang the bell.
‘Come to my classroom’ said Rita, when Jane had introduced herself. They walked in silence, and Rita shut the door behind them.
‘Why have you come here? Is it because of my dad coming to see you? I told him to leave it, that you were doing all you could.’
‘Your dad did take the trouble to drop in. He’s worried about you, Rita, and he doesn’t want the same thing to happen to someone else.’
‘So you believe me then? You don’t think it’s all just a fuss about nothing?’
‘Of course I do. What’s to disbelieve? What happened to you isn’t open to interpretation. Someone got into your car, Rita, without you knowing and without your permission, and when you stopped he touched you, didn’t he?’
‘Yes, he did.’
‘Now I know this is difficult, but we need to go over a few points again, OK? It will help me with the investigation, because we want this man caught just as much as you and your dad do.’
‘OK. Ask me anything you want.’
‘I want you to think back to that morning, when you left home. Was your dad’s vehicle locked when you went to it?’
For the first time Rita laughed. ‘You are joking, Jane. He always checks it about ten times, every night. Where we live you can’t be too careful he says, though I don’t think any of the local kids would nick his car. So yes, it was locked.’
‘Good. So, you went out to the car. Did you put your stuff inside and go back into the house, or did you drive away immediately?’
‘Let me think. No, I didn’t go back inside. I put my rucksack on the back seat, plugged in the sat-nav, took off my jacket and set off. But why are you asking all this?’
‘I wanted to be sure that whoever it is who did this wasn’t in the car the whole time.’
‘No, no they weren’t. I opened the back door when I put my stuff in. I told that other policeman, before.’
‘I know you did. I just need to be sure that this man got in where we think he did, OK? And you didn’t stop anywhere on the journey?’
‘No. Wait a minute though, I did. I’d forgotten all about it, sorry. I stopped in a lay-by as I was driving down the side of the lake. Just to take a picture.’
‘So you got out of the car?’
‘Yes.’
‘Did you lock it?’
‘Probably not. I was literally right next to the door, a foot away. And there wasn’t anyone else around, I’m certain’ she added, anticipating Jane’s next question.
‘OK. So you arrived at the ferry. Did you drive straight on?’
‘No, there was a queue.’
‘OK, so did you stay in the car, or get out?’
‘I got out, just for a minute. I put on my jacket, because it was getting a bit cold, and I took it off again before I got back into the car.’
‘And there was no-one in the back of the vehicle?’
‘No, of course not.’
‘Could anyone have opened the hatchback at the back and climbed in to the boot?’
‘No. No way. I was right by the car the whole time.’
‘All right, that’s fine. So let’s talk about the ferry. What can you remember about that?’
‘Not all that much really. When I drove on I saw people getting out of their cars, so I did the same. I went over to the side, where the foot passengers and cyclists were, but only to take a picture. Then I went back to the car. I was out for two minutes, at the very most.’
‘Did you notice anyone in particular? Anyone taking an interest in you, or the car?’
‘No, nothing like that. And I’ve thought about it lots since. I wondered if there was something I could have done to stop it, something I should have seen. But there’s nothing.’
‘It’s not your fault, Rita. None of what happened is your fault. I’m not suggesting that, no-one is. Now, when you left the ferry, did you stop anywhere before you reached Hill Top?’
‘No. I drove straight there, it’s not far.’
‘So you stopped at Hill Top. Was this in the car park?’
‘No. It was on the road before. The place looked so busy. There were loads of people, and coaches and cars. There was a big delivery van outside as well. I wasn’t sure what to do.’
‘Did you turn the engine off?’
Rita hesitated. ‘I don’t know. I might have. I probably did. My dad has always drummed it into me and my brother not to waste petrol, and to turn the engine off when you’re standing still for a bit. So yes, I’m pretty sure that I turned the engine off.’
‘And then you were att
acked?’
‘Yes.’ Rita’s voice was steady, and Jane smiled at her.
‘You’re doing great. So it’s possible that your attacker made his move because he thought you’d parked somewhere?’
‘Maybe. Yes, I hadn’t thought of that.’
‘We’re almost there now. Just a couple more questions. Now you told my colleagues that the man grabbed you round the neck, and tried to pull you into the back seat.’
‘That’s right. But my seatbelt was on, so he started trying to get that undone with his other hand. It only took him a second.’
‘And he had his hand round your neck the whole time?’
‘Yes.’
‘Was it just your neck he touched?’
‘No. He reached round with his other hand, and started to touch my chest. Before he realised that my seat belt was fastened.’
‘He was touching your breasts, then. Is that right, Rita?’
‘Yes.’
‘But that’s not in your statement, is it?’
‘I didn’t like to say, you know, at the station.’
‘I understand, and thanks for telling me now. So what happened then?’
‘I managed to get my door open, and get free of his grip. I started shouting as soon as I got out. He must have got scared, because I head the door on the other side of the car open, and he ran off. That was back towards the ferry.’
‘And can you remember anything else about him? You said he was quite young, with dark hair, wearing jeans and a jacket. Medium height and build.’
‘That’s right.’
‘Can you remember if he was a fast runner? Did he seem young and fit, or a bit older and slower?’
‘Quite fast, I think. By the time a couple of people came to see if I was OK he had vanished completely. Your colleagues said they had a good look around, and they couldn’t see him.’
Jane looked at her notebook.
‘I don’t think there’s anything else for now, Rita, so I can let you get off home.’
‘Home? Not yet. I’ve got a lesson plan for tomorrow to finish first. My dad will pick me up when he closes the shop.’
‘What does your dad do?’
‘He’s an optician. He’ll be here in an hour or so. So what happens next, Jane? Does the fact that you’ve come down here mean that you’re going to be investigating this?’
‘Yes, it does. We’ve got a big murder case on at work, and that’s going to take up a lot of my time, but we do progress other cases at the same time. Rest assured what happened to you will be a priority for me.’
‘Thank you, Jane. But is it really worth it? I don’t want to be any trouble. I’m sure lots of worst things happen than what that man did to me. He didn’t really do anything. Nothing serious, anyway.’
Jane thought about how to frame her reply. ‘In terms of outcome yes, that’s true. But that’s not the issue here, Rita, it’s the intent that matters. What concerns me, what concerns us, is that the man who attacked you may very well be on the path to much more serious offences, and we need to try to stop that.’ Jane saw the look on Rita’s face. ‘I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to frighten you, Rita. I didn’t mean that you would be attacked again. Actually, it’s the opposite of that. What you’ve told me today confirms what I already thought. You were just in the wrong place at the wrong time. You weren’t targeted, and it won’t happen to you again. So don’t feel that you can’t come to the Lakes, or anything like that.’
‘OK’ said Rita, uncertainly. ‘But that doesn’t stop me worrying about it, or my dad, come to that.’
‘Well, you tell your dad from me that it’s all over. You’ve got absolutely nothing to worry about, I’m certain of it.’
Saturday, 8th June
‘You certainly know how to show a girl a good time’ said Jane Francis, as she slogged through the wide roads of mud that feet and tyres had formed on Fair Hill. It was raining, and it was going to rain. Her wellies were starting to stick in the ooze with every step, and even Andy Hall was starting to regret the idea of coming. He was struggling to keep them both dry, even under his big brolly.
‘It’s fascinating though, isn’t it? Like getting a glimpse into a different world, a hidden world.’
‘Andy, you do know all this is on TV? If it’s not cooking shows now it’s stuff about Travellers. Just ask your kids.’
‘Maybe, but this is real. Authentic.’
Jane laughed. ‘The only thing that’s real about this is the rain. Oh, and this bloody mud. They’re putting on a show, most of these Travellers are. They’re all watching us, watching them. All that galloping up and down the road, shouting, showing off. You notice it’s just the lads that do it?’
‘Everyone’s a critic today, Jane. Granted it’s all a bit knowing, but I’m all for preserving traditional ways of life. A bit of diversity, you can’t beat it.’
‘If you say so, Andy. After all, you’re not exactly known for your alternative lifestyle.’
‘Be fair. I do buy organic milk.’
Jane laughed, and punched Hall’s arm. ‘You hippy. Now, are you going to buy me a bacon buttie and a brew, and then take me to Orton? With a bit of luck the Farmer’s Market will be on, and you might even treat me to a little box of treats from the chocolate shop.’
‘What have you done to deserve them?’
‘I got up at bloody eight in the morning, sat in a traffic jam for half an hour listening to you banging on about how misguided it is of government to target trend GDP growth, whatever that is. Then we spent another twenty minutes trying to park, and now another hour in the pouring rain, listening to you go on about all bloody living history bollocks.’
Hall smiled. ‘Point taken. That’ll be the big box of chocolates I’ll be buying then?’
‘Yes, and I want a bloody bow on the box, mind. So have you seen whatever it is you really came here to see?’
‘What do you mean, Jane? I thought you’d be interested, that’s all, and we are both off duty.’
‘Pull the other one, Andy. You’re never off duty, not in your head at least. So what’s the story?’
‘Honestly, there’s no story.’ Jane didn’t look convinced, and Hall wasn’t surprised. He was as true to type as the most active of their regular villains. Like them he just couldn’t help himself. ‘All right, it’s a fair cop. I just think that we’ll be back here, when we’re on duty, and soon. I’ve just got a nasty feeling that Cliff Morrow was an old fashioned sort of bloke, and we won’t get much in terms of an electronic fingerprint for him. You know online, mobile, all that stuff. And if that’s the case we’re going to have to try to find out what brought him here twelve months ago the old fashioned way.’
‘By asking questions of people who’d much rather not answer them?’
‘Exactly. But let’s see what happens. We might get a break in the next day or two. We’ve certainly got enough people on it.’
They were queuing at one of the burger vans, and Hall didn’t much like the look of the fare that was being produced. Or the smell, come to that. It caught in the back of his throat.
‘Shall we head straight for Orton?’ he said.
‘You’re on.’
They walked as fast as they could back to the car. They’d come in his old BMW. It misted up badly as they drove, even with the A/C on full. Hall wondered briefly if it still worked.
‘I meant to ask’ he said, ‘how did you get on with Rita Bose?’
‘It was sexual touching, no doubt about it. I’ll amend the file on Monday.’
‘OK, so that earns you a few hours on it, anyway. How do you intend to use them?’
‘Wisely, Andy, wisely.’
Hall laughed. ‘So you don’t know then?’
‘I haven’t decided. Let’s enjoy a few hours off, and I’ll let you know on Monday. You’re not the only one who works weekends.’
Monday, 10th June
Andy Hall tried to prepare for his weekly meeting with Superintendent Gorham in the sam
e way that he guessed she would. So he reviewed the timesheets, overtime claims and total investigation costs to date before he even began to review the case file. He knew roughly what budget he’d get for a murder investigation, and when teeth would begin to be sucked and manpower cut, and he probably wasn’t that far away already. And when he looked at the case file, especially the additional reports generated over the weekend, he was far from sure that Val Gorham would regard his team’s work to date as value-for-money.
‘It took us several days to confirm the identification, ma’am’ he found himself saying, a little defensively, ‘and because of the slightly rootless nature of the victim’s life, and his aversion to technology, I’m not optimistic that we’ll make further significant progress on his timeline without considerable further expenditure. As things stand I think we need to increase resources, and certainly not reduce them.’
‘There’s no danger of a reduction, Andy’ said Gorham, adding the inevitable ‘for the moment’ just a breath later. ‘And you say there’s no chance that we could classify the victim as being from the Traveller community?’
‘No, ma’am, ethnically he wasn’t a Traveller.’
‘Shame, that might have helped. I do have a ring-fenced budget available for the investigation of crimes involving any of the defined ethnic communities. And it’s largely unspent for this year.’
DCI Hall did not need a second invitation. ‘Well, ma’am, now you come to mention it, Morrow was certainly very committed to the Traveller lifestyle, and we understand that he thought, he believed, that his roots were in the community. So perhaps he could be legitimately recorded in that way? After all, a gay person only has to self-define, don’t they?’
‘Yes’ said Gorham doubtfully. ‘I take your point. So perhaps he could be identified as a Traveller.’
Hall was determined to strike while the iron was at least lukewarm.
‘Our identity is such a fluid thing, isn’t it, ma’am? At work we’re one thing, at home another, with our friends perhaps a third. And perhaps people should be able to self-define their ethnicity anyway, just as Cliff Morrow did.’ Hall paused, while he tried to think of a more compelling argument. ‘I expect there’s a protocol on this very point somewhere. I could have a look for it if you like.’