Book Read Free

Bad to the Bone

Page 19

by Tony J. Forder


  ‘I know him, sir,’ Mia Strong said. She gave a small shrug. ‘Well, of him. He’s also head of the Peterborough Chamber of Trade and Industry.’

  ‘Well, whatever he is, he’s not above getting a visit from us. I’ll handle that one myself. Now then, DC Chandler, please bring us right up to date with the finer details of this investigation.’

  ‘Yes, boss.’ Chandler took a step back from the board, taking in the timeline, the incidents, the acquired knowledge. When she looked back around at the team, they were rapt.

  ‘Okay, this is what we believe happened: Jodie Maybanks was run down by a vehicle in June nineteen ninety, but was not badly hurt. She was then dragged into that vehicle and driven the short distance to the lake at Fletton, where she was strangled to death and then buried. Many years later, shortly before the IKEA factory was built, Jodie’s remains were exhumed and reinterred in Bretton Woods. We have to assume that the reason for doing so was fear of the body being discovered when the factory and new road system were being constructed. Going back to the murder, the most likely motive is that Jodie was pregnant and had made the mistake of telling the punter responsible. Possibly even blackmailed him.

  ‘So, where do we go from here? Well, for the time being we still have a list of officers who need to be interviewed to see if they can throw any more light on what happened the night Jodie was murdered. We will also cast a wider net for any other reports made that night, just to see if there’s any potential connection. And we’ll follow up on the drug dealer possibility. But, of course, if our hypothesis is correct, then in Simon Palmer we have a definite suspect.’

  ‘Who is very high profile,’ Bobby Dunne pointed out.

  Bliss nodded. Felt eyes upon him. Just what he needed when climbing back on the horse. Last time around he’d ended the flourishing career of the head of the local council, a woman gunning to be the city’s MP. It wasn’t Bliss’s fault that her campaign manager had also happened to be a volatile extremist responsible for a whole series of racially motivated murders. Not Bliss’s fault, but as the senior investigating officer, his actions had been investigated and called to account by several more senior officers. Only Detective Chief Superintendent Flynn had set aside lofty ambitions and reviewed the case without any form of prejudice. Though ultimately cleared of all but a few minor indiscretions, Bliss now felt the pressure moving in from all sides once more.

  ‘High profile or not,’ Bliss said with great deliberation. ‘Mr Palmer will be interviewed as a witness who might also be considered a suspect. I’ll make sure of that. Meanwhile, DC Chandler will again draw up some actions. I want all remaining interviews completed. I want someone to get me a list of officers involved with the MisPer report by Connie Rawlings. She claimed it was all cursory, so let’s tread lightly there until we know more. I also want someone to look into whoever worked on that IKEA building, in particular those workers who would have been there marking out prior to the diggers coming in. I want to know if anyone noticed anything strange, such as a recently dug up shallow grave. Continue with the door-to-door canvassing around Bretton Woods, because we could still do with getting a clearer idea of when that reinterment happened. And let’s chase up some finals from forensics if at all possible.’

  Bliss leaned forward over the desk, resting on his fists. So far he had resisted telling the squad about the seven day limit Sykes had insisted on, and he saw no reason to add that kind of pressure now.

  ‘We’re getting somewhere, people. Wheels have started turning, and there’s momentum behind us at last. Let’s rip into this between now and five tomorrow afternoon, tear this case apart. I want tomorrow’s p.m. briefing to take us as far forward again.’

  Bliss spent the rest of the afternoon in his office catching up on paperwork. Sykes was ensnared in a meeting with fellow Detective Superintendents from neighbouring areas, something Bliss was grateful for. It kept the man from interfering, which had to be a good thing for everyone involved.

  In addition to a computerised case file which was maintained by the efficient data administrators, Bliss kept two of his own paper-based versions. In the first he wrote detailed notes covering every aspect of the investigation that he would happily present to a senior officer upon request. The second was similar, but contained notes relating to his own suspicions and events best kept separate from the official inquiry. In the hours he spent at his desk, Bliss carefully reviewed all three case files. It soon became obvious that, while good progress had been made, there were still many paths this investigation could take. He felt it all slowly coming together, but also had the uneasy sensation that huge chunks were missing.

  Bliss decided to end his working day with a visit to Mepal, hoping to interview Simon Palmer, whose home address had been traced within minutes. As that meant driving almost past Bobby Dunne’s front door in Whittlesey, Dunne had invited him over for a bite to eat and a drink. It was an invitation he’d been more than happy to accept, having found a warm welcome in the Dunne household on two previous occasions.

  Susan, Dunne’s small and dumpy wife, wasn’t at all fazed at having to feed another mouth at such short notice. She looked like the kind of woman who only ever felt comfortable at home in her kitchen, taking care of her house, her husband, and three lively children. She welcomed Bliss as if he were a regular visitor, the wide smile plastered across her face entirely genuine.

  The food was a thick, greasy bacon and egg sandwich, smothered in tomato ketchup. Just what Bliss needed. As they took their first bites, Dunne beckoned him out into the back garden and across to his large, weather-worn shed.

  ‘While the missus finishes up and gets the kids bathed and ready for bed, I thought we’d grab this opportunity,’ Dunne said to Bliss, tapping his nose.

  ‘Opportunity?’

  The big man grinned and pushed at one of the wooden boards in the shed roof. Something clinked. ‘When I put this big bugger of a shed together I left a cavity,’ he said, taking down a bottle of brandy. ‘So whenever I feel like a nip, I come out here to… work.’

  Bliss laughed. ‘So you’ve built your own little haven out here. A world away from the wife and kids, eh. Nice one, Bobby. Susan knows nothing about the booze, I take it?’

  Dune shook his head. ‘Not a clue. You know, I think all the secrets of the modern world can be found in a man’s shed.’

  The drink was thirty years old, smooth as a baby’s backside, and left Bliss smacking his lips in appreciation. A pleasant warmth settled in his stomach. He nodded at the bottle in Dunne’s hand, noting the thin coating of dust.

  ‘It looks like you only pull that one out on special occasions,’ he said, raising his glass.

  ‘Like when I want to impress the boss.’

  ‘Your work does that, Bobby. No need for bribery. Your evaluation will be every bit as good as it was last year.’

  They clinked glasses. ‘That’s good to know,’ Dunne said, his big ruddy face reddening further still. ‘So, what do you make of this case, boss? It’s one thing for us to run the investigation down all the obvious avenues as we have been, but it’s not sitting right with me keeping what we know about Bernie Weller to ourselves. From what we’ve seen and heard, his role was probably minor. So why would someone want him dead all these years on?’

  ‘Someone has something to hide, Bobby.’ To Bliss it was that simple. He’d been in this grim business long enough to understand that people could and would do absolutely anything to protect themselves. ‘Weller’s involvement might well have been relatively trivial, but at this stage we can’t be certain of that. It’s possible that he wanted to dig deeper into the reports relating to that accident, but was warned off. Or persuaded.’

  ‘You mean bought off?’

  ‘That’s a possibility we have to consider. Look, you, me and Penny will have to sit down and thrash this thing out. Mia Strong, too, if we decide to rope her in. We need to discuss what exactly our plan of action will be behind the scenes of the official inquiry. We also ne
ed to be clear about how far we’re all willing to take it.’

  ‘That might depend on where it leads.’

  ‘True. Hopefully it’s already led somewhere, because Palmer is a real possibility; he has enough clout to make something like this happen, and may well have had deep enough pockets to pay a few people off.’

  ‘If he did put the Maybanks girl up the spout, it’s not something he’d’ve wanted broadcast, that’s for sure. Means and motive, I’d say.’

  Bliss agreed. ‘Now all I need to figure out is if he had the opportunity. Or paid someone else to create one.’

  ‘You want me to come with you tonight?’ Dunne asked. ‘See if we can’t double up on this creep. Tag team him.’

  ‘No, you’re all right, Bobby. You spend some time with your family. We’ve got a lot of work ahead of us, and many late nights to come I would think. Make the most of an evening off. I’ve got nothing better to do.’

  Dunne tossed back his drink and poured them both another. ‘One for the road, then, eh, boss?’

  ‘I’m not sure I should.’

  ‘Why not?’ Bobby Dunne laughed. ‘You’re hardly likely to get breathalysed, are you?’

  Chapter 20

  Bliss carved his way across the Fenlands, driving faster than usual where the roads were long and straight, slipping easily through the gears whenever he had to wind his way through a serpentine route around drainage ditches, fields and tiny hamlets. The flat, open landscape was bleak, yet a surprisingly appealing part of the country, as much of a mystery to him as the people who inhabited it.

  Rumours of inbreeding were rife out here in these harsh outlands. Bobby Dunne, himself a Fenlander, had once warned Bliss that if he met a girl in a pub out there and she offered to take him home to meet her father and her brother, they might well turn out to be the same person. Bliss had certainly met a few mouth breathers over the past few years, but he saw nothing wrong in their desire for privacy. Rough around the edges and largely unwelcoming people they might be, but they were also dependable and hard-working and had a humour all of their own. Bliss appreciated the countryside surrounding Peterborough far more than the city itself.

  The night was dark and moonless, but it was dry and there was no mist. Bliss drove within himself, but a little speed helped to blow away the cobwebs. Normally he would have the CD player belting out, but tonight he wanted to concentrate on his thoughts.

  The interview with Palmer had been both brief and unsatisfying. The moment Bliss mentioned Jodie Maybanks, the senior director within Peterborough’s largest engineering company ushered Bliss into an office set off the main hallway of his luxurious modern house that stood in what looked like a few prime acres. The office was relatively small and quiet and well away from Palmer’s obviously inquisitive wife.

  ‘Just about business, sweetheart,’ Palmer called out. His wife stood in an open doorway that led to the kitchen, a dishcloth in her hands, eyes troubled. ‘Something that happened at work recently.’

  Mentioning business did the trick. Bliss saw the woman’s eyes glaze over as she switched off and went back to whatever she had been doing. Bliss politely refused an offer of tea before he and Palmer got down to the matter in hand.

  Unless he was an excellent actor, the man was genuinely surprised to hear of Jodie’s fate. In his late forties, of average height, portly and balding, Palmer was hardly an imposing figure. Bliss guessed the man had kissed a lot of arses to attain his lofty position, and now had a genuine fear of seeing it all crumble to pieces around him. And all for the sake of dipping his wick.

  ‘Yes, I saw Jodie on a regular basis,’ Palmer confessed. No flush crept into his cheeks, but his eyes found something interesting on the floor. ‘My wife lacks passion, Inspector, and has no desire to… experiment.’

  ‘I’m not interested in why you felt the need to see Jodie Maybanks,’ Bliss told him. ‘Only that you were. So tell me, when did you stop paying her for sex?’

  Palmer swallowed and turned his head away, eyes flitting across to the closed door. ‘Do you have to put it like that?’

  ‘Is there any other way that wouldn’t sound equally squalid?’

  Bliss had decided on the drive over that he would be confrontational. He wanted to keep Palmer on the defensive, and not have the man think Bliss approved of what had taken place. No man-to-man nods of acceptance.

  ‘When you put it as bluntly as that, I suppose not, no.’ Palmer’s face hardened, though his voice took on a sulky edge.

  Bliss ignored both. ‘So when was the last time?’

  ‘Let me see, I suppose it would be about fifteen or sixteen years ago now.’ He frowned, scratched the back of his neck, nodded. ‘Yes. That sounds about right.’

  ‘Why did you stop seeing her?’

  ‘She left the area. At least, that’s what I assumed. She certainly wasn’t on the street anymore.’

  ‘Did you stop using prostitutes altogether after that?’

  This time a definite flush crept across Palmer’s cheeks. As embarrassed as he was anxious. ‘No. But there was no one else who became a regular.’

  Bliss was surprised the man hadn’t opted for bluster over contrition, but was glad of it all the same. It made his job a whole lot easier.

  ‘Okay, we’ll set that aside for the time being. Now then, what’s next? Oh, yes, can you tell me where you were on the night of Tuesday, June twenty-sixth, nineteen ninety?’

  The noise Palmer made was one of incredulity. Snorting through a closed mouth. ‘Are you serious? I’m so busy I couldn’t tell you where I was last week without consulting my PDA.’

  ‘I can sympathise. You’re a busy, important man. I understand that. Still, give it some thought, eh? June nineteen ninety. The Word Cup was being played in Italy, and that night England…’

  Palmer sat upright as if a bolt of electricity had passed through him. He wagged a finger in Bliss’s direction. ‘Of course. I can tell you exactly where I was. In Japan. Went there in April, came home early October.’

  ‘Japan?’

  ‘Tokyo to be precise. On business. We were merging with an engineering company out there. I did the negotiations and oversaw the opening.’

  ‘And this can be verified through company records?’

  ‘Of course. Plus, I was there with a colleague the whole time.’ Palmer’s forehead creased. ‘What is this all about, Inspector Bliss? You wanted to know about Jodie Maybanks, and now you’re asking… Oh, I see. Jodie didn’t leave the area at all, did she?’

  Bliss shook his head. If the man truly had no idea, Palmer was the best liar he’d ever met. ‘No. Jodie Maybanks was murdered that night. She was strangled and buried, and her remains were unearthed in Bretton Woods last Tuesday.’

  He made no mention of the lake in Fletton, hoping to see something flare in Palmer’s eyes. There was nothing.

  ‘Yes, I saw that on the news.’ He gave a slight shudder. ‘It’s a little unnerving now that I realise I knew the person found. And you thought I might have something to do with it? Jodie had a lot of clients, Inspector. Are you speaking to them all?’

  ‘As many as we can trace.’ It was true enough, though Bliss neglected to mention that Palmer’s name was the only one that had cropped up so far. ‘Mr Palmer, before you left for Japan, did Jodie tell you she was pregnant?’

  Palmer reared back as if physically threatened. ‘Pregnant? No. She never mentioned it. But why pick on me? She had sex for a living.’

  ‘Yes, but you see, the information we have is that you were one of the very few men who had unprotected sex with Jodie. As a regular, there’s a decent chance you were the father. Had you been told, I doubt you’d have been best pleased.’

  ‘Had I been told I would have been apoplectic. Even so, I wouldn’t have killed the poor kid.’

  ‘So what would you have done? Brought her home, introduced her to the wife?’

  ‘I would have paid for an abortion.’

  ‘And if she’d not wanted one?’r />
  ‘I would have persuaded her. Anyway, I’m sure she would have been only too happy. What would a girl like that want with a baby?’

  Bliss sat back and gave it a little thought. There were no alarm bells ringing, no hairs raised on the nape of his neck. Palmer neither appeared nor sounded guilty of anything other than visiting prostitutes. Bliss didn’t much like the man, but that didn’t make him a murderer. Still, he felt Palmer’s attitude warranted a little tweak of conscience.

  ‘Did you not consider the risk of having unprotected sex with a prostitute, Mr Palmer? A drug addict, too, for that matter.’

  ‘Somewhat. I assumed she was on the pill, and imagined she would abort any child if that were not the case.’

  ‘I’m talking about health risks, sir. STDs, that sort of thing. Not very pleasant, so I hear. Neither for you nor your wife.’

  ‘My wife and I are both fine, thank you, Inspector Bliss.’

  ‘I’m glad to hear it. Still, I take it you are aware that HIV and AIDS can lie dormant for fifteen years or so?’

  Bliss had no idea if that was the case, but he was looking to rattle Palmer before he left. Judging by the man’s suddenly pale and waxy face, he guessed he had managed to do so.

  ‘Oh, yes,’ Bliss continued, nodding. ‘It might be worth getting yourself checked out, sir. I can’t imagine what Mrs Palmer would say about it. I do hope you haven’t passed it on to your wife. For her sake.’

  He concluded the interview by requesting a DNA sample. With a great deal of reluctance, Palmer agreed, provided nothing was mentioned to his wife. Bliss asked Palmer to present himself at Thorpe Wood, and to bring with him the name of the colleague with whom he’d spent six months in Japan, together with any documentary evidence related to the business trip.

 

‹ Prev