by Salkeld, J J
‘Was your brother with you, by any chance?’
‘Christopher? No, he wasn’t. No doubt he’s drawn to the shirtless young men, but I think he’s aware that his interest is very unlikely to be reciprocated.’
‘And you’re quite sure that you didn’t meet with anyone that day?’
‘No, I didn’t. Look, I’m entitled to an explanation of what’s going on here. Why are you asking me these questions?’
‘We’re examining photographs and other materials generated at last year’s Fair, because we know that Cliff Morrow, the man we found out under the stones, was there. In fact, he passed along the same stretch road as you, heading in the same direction, just a few minutes before.’
‘So did hundreds of people, I expect. That doesn’t mean anything.’
‘Indeed not, and we may have to locate some more of the people in this picture, and examine the many hundreds of others in our possession. We need to understand where Cliff Morrow was that day, and especially who he met.’
‘That will take you forever. I’m surprised you think it’s all worth it. A man like Morrow, he must have had lots of enemies.’
‘What makes you say that?’
‘Just an impression, I suppose, that’s all.’
Again Hall paused, and again Dixon stared, his pen poised above his notebook.
‘I’m going to have to ask you to come to Police HQ and give us a formal statement, covering the points that we’ve just discussed. Anytime before 5pm today will be fine.’
‘Is that really necessary? I’m a man of my word.’ Hall didn’t reply. ‘I’ll bring my solicitor, you can count on that.’
‘That’s entirely up to you, of course, sir. Oh, and one more point if I may. The year before last, did you go to the Fair then?’
‘I expect so, with Barbara and the children.’
When Hall and Dixon left the house they saw Mann’s car was already parked alongside Hall’s. He noticed that the two of them weren’t talking, or smiling. He had a nasty feeling that both of them bore grudges. He and Dixon climbed into the back of Mann’s car.
‘Anything?’ he asked.
Jane and Mann both started to reply. Mann stopped, and Jane didn’t.
‘Nothing. He says he wasn’t at the Fair last year. We showed him the picture and he says it was his brother. He says he wouldn’t be seen dead in cords.’ On another day Jane would have made a joke about the similar limitations of Hall’s off-duty wardrobe, but it didn’t feel right. Maybe she would have, if Ian hadn’t been there.
‘That ties up with what David told us’ said Hall. ‘How about the year before?’
‘He says he might have been, but can’t remember.’
‘Did you ask him to come in and give a statement?’
‘Yes.’
‘How did he react?’
‘A bit surprised, that’s all, really. Not nervous, exactly. ’ Jane glanced across at Mann. ‘What do you reckon then, Ian?
Mann turned in his seat, and spoke directly to Hall.
‘I thought he was taking a bit too long to answer simple questions, like he was thinking through the implications. But people like him, you never know, do you? He’s spent his whole life pretending to be something he isn’t. I expect he’s pretty good at it by now.’
‘What’s that supposed to mean, Ian?’ said Jane, and Hall got his door open as fast as he could. Dixon took the hint and did the same. Even with another half an hour of Dixon’s anecdotes to endure Hall knew which car he’d rather be in for the drive back to HQ.
‘Does anyone here have a copy of Debrett’s?’ asked Hall, at the start of the team meeting. ‘No? That’s a shame, because this investigation is going up in the world.’ Hall pressed the clicker and carried on. ‘Now these two are the Plouvins, the identical twin brothers who live in the big house and the farm nearest to Long Meg. These two gents are coming in later to give statements concerning their visits to previous Appleby Horse Fairs, especially last year’s. Because we know that one of them, and it seems very likely to have been David, that’s the one on the left’, Hall paused, ‘or maybe the one on the right is the one in the picture we have. He says that he didn’t meet Morrow, or anyone else come to that, and of course it could easily be co-incidence that they were on Roman Road at the same time. After all, there were thousands of people there. So here’s what we do. First, let’s concentrate on pictures and footage that we can pin to the Saturday of last year’s Fair, especially the afternoon and evening. Next, we saw ANPR machines set up in the town this year, so were they there last year too? If so, do we still have the data? Did any of the vehicles registered to the Plouvins enter Appleby on the Saturday, or any other day last year?’
‘How about this year, boss?’ asked Dixon.
‘Yes, Ray, why not? And thanks for volunteering.’
Dixon groaned, and then laughed. ‘Will do, boss.’
‘But the main event will be deep background on the Plouvins.’ This time the groaning was widespread, and Hall held up his hand. ‘I know, it means a huge amount of work and no certainty of any return on our investment, but it’s got to be done. And we need to do the lot, all the banking and other data we can get, the electronic fingerprints of the two brothers, and I’m especially interested in the period around last year’s Fair. Say the two months on either side. And I also want some discrete enquiries made on the ground, and I do mean discrete. What’s the gossip, what’s the story about this family? They’ve lived there since Ray was just a lad, we’re talking centuries here, so there must be new news and old news. I want the lot. OK, so Jane...’
‘Yes, boss.’ Jane didn’t look excited about her next assignment, and had already resigned herself to days of ploughing through print-outs and bank statements. It was her usual lot, and not a happy one either.
‘You look after the local enquiries, please. But be careful, you know how things get round in these little communities. So diplomacy is the watchword.’
Jane smiled, partly because she’d be out of the office for a shift or two, but mainly because Ian Mann would be staying in. She wondered if Andy was showing favouritism, and decided that he wasn’t. But Ian Mann was thinking about the same thing, and he was reaching an altogether different conclusion.
‘Ian, you lead the rest of team and tech support on the paper chase please, plus the picture analysis. And remember, all of you, what we’re looking for is something that brings the Plouvins, or one of them at least, and Cliff Morrow together. Did they ever meet, and if so, why? In the next couple of days I want them either eliminated from this enquiry or very firmly connected to it. Any questions?’
‘Yes’ said Ray Dixon. ‘I should know this, but...’
‘You should know lots of things, at your age, Ray’ said Hall.
Dixon ignored him. He was only seven years older than Hall, and they both knew it. ‘What I was going to ask was this. Would DNA be any use if it turns out that one of these twins is in the frame for the Morrow murder?’
‘Now that, my friend, is a very good question. It’s a completely hypothetical one at this stage obviously, but I did have a quick look online earlier. Anyone know what I discovered?’
‘That identical twins do have identical DNA’ said Jane, ‘but that, over time, our DNA does change and mutate very slightly. So it might be possible, in theory, to identify which one did it.’
‘Spot on, Jane. Yes, that’s about the size of it. But don’t let’s worry about issues like that at this stage. At present the Plouvins are persons of interest to us, and that’s all. Let’s not forget that we’ve got a clear connection between Morrow and illegal bookmaking, and we’ve got other forces following up on those enquiries for us as we speak. But I just didn’t like the way that David reacted to the questions that we put to him, although there could be lots of reasons for that. It could be just that he doesn’t think that oiks like us should be asking him impertinent questions, and he doesn’t bother to hide that feeling, or it could be that he’s got so
mething that he is trying to hide. Let’s find out which it is, shall we?’
When Jane got back to her desk and logged back on to the system she saw that she’d missed two calls from Rita Bose. Jane reached for her phone to call back, but put it straight down again. The service standard required her to return all calls from complainants within 24 hours, and she would. But she wouldn’t call now. Not because couldn’t spare a couple of minutes, but mainly because she didn’t know what to say. Normally she’d just have told the truth, because that always seemed to her like the best thing for a copper to do, but this time that wasn’t an appealing option. Because the reality of the situation was simple enough. With no evidence and no suspects the investigation of the attack on Rita Bose was effectively over. And the only thing that would change that was if there was another similar attack. Worse still, to get her full attention, and that of Andy Hall, the next woman would need to suffer a still worse attack. It wasn’t fair, and it wasn’t right, but it was the way it was.
Friday, 14th June
Ian Mann couldn’t say that he was enjoying himself exactly, but he had to admit that he was learning. And as they sat in Hall’s office, reviewing Mann’s team’s work, it seemed that Andy Hall agreed with him.
‘Nice one, Ian’ he was saying, and looking as if he meant it too.
‘It didn’t really get us anywhere, though did it?’
‘Maybe not, but it was a good idea to run the facial recognition software against David Plouvin as well as Cliff Morrow. And you did get a couple of hits for Plouvin, so that’s good.’
‘But still nothing of the two of them together.’
‘Maybe they didn’t meet, Ian. And even if they did, and even if Plouvin was the man who Morrow argued with, it’s highly likely that there isn’t a picture of it happening. To be honest, I’m much more interested in the background checks on the Plouvins. So how’s that going?’
‘Early days yet, Andy, but I’ve got everyone on it. Plenty of money going through their accounts, and Christopher pays his older brother in South Africa an allowance of five grand a month, but it looks like that’s been going on for years. Nothing untoward, our bean counters say, it’s all been through the accounts in the normal way. And when it comes to the twins it seems like Christopher gets the bulk of the income, and he just pays David an allowance. Like pocket money on steroids, but still a hand-out.’
‘And David’s younger by two minutes or something. OK, keep looking at them. Any other investigative ideas, now that you’re on a roll?’
Mann smiled. ‘Not really, I’m knackered after that last one. I’m more about spade-work than brain work, boss.’
‘Don’t sell yourself short, and I’ve got no problem with you carrying on with the lines of enquiry that we’re already developing. We’re already stretched too thin, and I need to try to keep the costs under control if I possibly can.’
‘Is the Super on your case?’
‘I think she must have the spreadsheet open in real time. I get an email on the hour, every hour, from her telling me how much we’ve overspent since the last email.’
‘And how much is it?’
‘I don’t know. I just open them so she gets a return receipt, then I get back to work. I can’t see any point in actually reading them. I’m just going to keep going on this until we make an arrest or someone tells me to stop.’
DS Jane Francis most certainly was looking forward to the working day ahead. She knew that she was regarded as an officer of exemplary organisational skills, with powers of concentration and attention to detail to match, but that most of her colleagues didn’t see her as much of a ‘people person’. From the time she’d joined the Police she’d admired, all right she’d been downright jealous of, colleagues who managed to set people at their ease, whether they were members of the public, victims or perpetrators of crime. She just couldn’t do it at all, couldn’t when she started, and she still couldn’t now. She knew that as well as anyone.
But DS Jane Francis was nothing if not a tryer, and she promised herself that when she was out talking to people today she wouldn’t cut anyone off mid-sentence, no matter how boring and irrelevant their comments were, and that she’d keep a smile plastered to her face throughout. She wasn’t hugely optimistic that she could manage it, but then she did have a secret weapon, in the ample form of PC Wendy Parker, who’d been assigned to the team because she was the neighbourhood officer for the villages around Long Meg. And by the time they’d driven to Langwathby and parked up Jane was sure that she’d made a wise decision. Wendy was so friendly that Jane had already told her all about her own domestic arrangements by the time she’d turned the engine off. It was, Jane decided, a remarkable talent, based not on intelligence but on something else, a quality that was harder to pin down.
‘The village shop is the best place to start’ said Wendy firmly. ‘Brenda is over 80 now but she still comes in for an hour or two every morning. She sold the shop years ago actually, and I’m not sure that she even gets paid any more. I think she only comes in for the company and the gossip.’
‘Is her memory reliable?’
‘Sharp as a tack, Brenda is. A few months ago they had a problem with shoplifting, booze it was, and the couple who run the place now couldn’t spot who it was. They don’t have CCTV, like, except on the Post Office counter. Anyway, Brenda came in one evening, and spotted who it was straight away. All I had to do was go round to the kid’s house and nick him. Mind you, he’d already necked half a bottle of vodka, so he ended up in A&E anyway. Good thing I turned up really, or it could have been nasty. Thirteen, the kid is.’
The shop was busy, and the two officers waited until Brenda had finished serving her customers. She was extremely slow, and kept up a running commentary on the items that customers had bought, occasionally suggesting cheaper or tastier alternatives. Jane watched the younger woman who was also serving, and thought that she tensed up slightly when an item of stock was returned to a shelf, or when Brenda shuffled off to make a substitution. Jane felt her own frustration starting to build, but she noticed that the customers, even the working-aged ones, seemed relaxed about the wait.
Eventually Brenda was free of customers, and she led Wendy and Jane into the stockroom. She offered them a cup of tea, but before Jane could say no Wendy had accepted, and another ten minutes passed by before Brenda was able to talk. But Wendy didn’t seem to mind too much, mainly because Brenda had put three biscuits on her saucer. Jane only got one, and she didn’t know whether to be flattered or not.
‘You know about the body that we found at Long Meg?’ she asked.
‘Oh yes, dear. Terrible business that was. It’s an ancient monument is that, people shouldn’t be digging it up and burying bodies, should they?’
Jane smiled weakly. If this really was Wendy’s best witness then this had all the makings of a really long day.
‘And you know the Plouvins, I expect?’
‘Oh yes, dear. I knew the boys’ grandfather, and their father too. Say what you like about that family, but they’ve always used this shop. Just for bits and pieces, like, but I think it tells you something about them.’
Jane wondered what that might be, other than that the Plouvins weren’t too grand to run out of milk or bog roll.
‘So some people don’t like them, is that right?’
‘You know what villages are like, dear. There are always jealous people, you know, who resent those with higher stations in life. Born to it, the Plouvins were, and that’s an end to it. That’s what I say, anyway.’
‘I’m sure you do, Brenda.’ Jane felt slightly nervous as she framed the next question. But there was nothing for it, even if it was an open invitation for a gossip to run through her entire store of material. ‘So I bet you’ve heard a few stories about the Plouvins, over the years, haven’t you?’
To her surprise Brenda didn’t reply immediately. ‘What do you mean dear, stories? I don’t believe in tittle-tattle. You ask anyone, they’ll tell
you. I don’t hold with all that.’
‘Of course not, but you have been at the centre of the community for many years, and Wendy here said you were the best person to talk to if we wanted some background on the family.’
Brenda looked mollified. ‘Background, is it? Well, I suppose that couldn’t hurt. Let me think then. How far do you want me to go back?’
‘As far as you can remember yourself, Brenda.’
‘Well, after the war there was a falling out with one of the other local families, over a piece of ground over Melmerby way. It went to law I think, and you know what, they haven’t spoken to each other since. Old families like that have long memories you see, dear.’
‘How about more recent times? Any major upheavals?’
‘Not really, no. The boys’ father was a stern man, and the farm workers didn’t like him much, I remember that. But when young Rupert took over things improved a lot. I always liked Rupert, even if that wife of his was no better than she ought to be. Off-comer she is, too. So I wasn’t surprised when he upped sticks and went away like that, though I know some were surprised. Still, it’s a lot to leave behind isn’t it? His children, that house, all that land.’
‘This is the brother who went to live in South Africa?’
‘That’s right dear. The oldest boy, Rupert. You do your homework, don’t you? He was unhappy, what with his wife taking up with his own brother like that, right under his nose, like. Still, these gentry families, they live by their own rules, don’t they?’
‘And had Barbara, er, taken up with David before Rupert left?’
‘Oh no dear, not in public, like. But behind the scenes we reckon it had been going on for ages. Years, maybe.’
‘Were there rumours at the time then, Brenda?’
The old woman looked a little disappointed. ‘No, I can’t say that there were. Normally, I get to hear about that kind of carry-on in here, but like I say the Plouvins are a cut above the rest of us, so they must have kept it to themselves.’