Dead Guilty

by Helen H. Durrant

  * * *

  Calladine arrived at the scene to find Natasha Barrington and the CSI team hard at it.

  “She’s had a right going over. There are bruises on her face and torso,” the pathologist said.

  “Did she try to fight back? Is there anything under her nails?”

  “Unlikely. They’re bitten to the quick.”

  “Pity. Is her stuff still here, her mobile?”

  “You think it was a robbery, sir?” Rocco asked, coming forward. “More like Billy Alder getting even. Frankie threatened to tell his brother, don’t forget. That gives him a pretty good motive for murder.”

  That seemed a little too simple to Calladine. They didn’t even know if Billy and Annie were still in the area. “We’ll reserve judgement for now,” Calladine replied. “Is her stuff still here?” he repeated.

  “No. There’s nothing, not even in her pockets,” Natasha confirmed. “I can’t be sure until I get her back, but this wound looks very like the one inflicted on Sean Barber. Narrow and deep, the type a stiletto blade would make.”

  That was not what Calladine was expecting. If Natasha was right, then the two murders were linked. But how could that be? They were different cases. Sean Barber had been a member of the cuckooing group, but Frankie Halliwell hadn’t.

  Calladine took charge. “Seal off this area for now. Let’s make sure we bag every bit of evidence there is.” He looked at Natasha. “When will you do this one?”

  “Tomorrow morning.”

  “I’ll see you at nine,” he replied.

  Chapter 23

  Day 5

  Ruth was in the office bright and early the next morning, but Calladine was nowhere to be seen. “Where is he?” she asked Thorpe, who was sitting at the spare desk tucking into a bacon barm. “And where’s Rocco? Here’s me making a supreme effort while the rest bunk off.”

  “Frankie Halliwell was murdered last night,” Thorpe told her, his mouth full. “Stabbed she was. The boss has gone to the Duggan.”

  He said the words as if it was nothing at all, but Ruth was shocked. “Who’d want to kill Frankie?”

  “I reckon it’s down to Billy Alder. He and Annie tried to scam the ransom out of Richard and have gone into hiding. Frankie threatened them. From what I’ve heard about Billy, he wouldn’t like that.”

  Ruth thought it wasn’t the worst explanation “Are we absolutely sure the scam was down to Annie?”

  “Your mate, Rocco, will soon find out. The CCTV’s in from the bank in Oldston.”

  That was something at least. “Did Calladine say when he’d be back?”

  Thorpe shrugged. “No idea.”

  Typical Thorpe, Ruth thought. The sooner Long came back and took him off their hands, the better.

  “Do we have any idea yet where Annie and Billy have gone,” Ruth asked them.

  “Alice and the boss went to Alf Alder’s flat yesterday,” Rocco said. “They brought back Billy’s laptop and that pile of newspapers.” He gestured at a filing cabinet. “Looks like Billy’s been looking for a place to hide over the last few weeks. Not all of those papers are local. Alice thought they might prove useful.”

  “Is the laptop being looked at?” Ruth asked.

  Rocco nodded a reply.

  “We’d better start looking through these then,” Ruth said, handing a few papers to each of them. “Billy bought this little lot for a reason. I bet you’re right, he was looking for a bolthole for him and Annie. A long way away from the look of some of these.”

  “This one’s the Mid-Wales Gazette,” Rocco said.

  “Makes sense. They don’t want to bump into Richard, do they?”

  * * *

  Frankie Halliwell had been beaten and stabbed. There were multiple bruises on her body.

  As agreed, Calladine had arrived at the Duggan Centre early that morning. Natasha had Frankie laid out on the slab and had completed the post-mortem examination. “There was a lot of blood on her clothes and she was missing a trainer, but it was found and forensics have it,” she said. “It was discovered some distance away. It’s possible that she took it off and threw it at whoever was after her.”

  “Didn’t help much, did it?” Calladine commented. “Poor lass is a mess.”

  “You’re right there. She’s had a right going-over.” Natasha paused, her mouth a thin line. “The stab wound is to her chest. Your killer knew what he was doing. There’ll have to be tests, of course, but I’m pretty certain it’s the same knife that was used to kill Sean Barber.”

  Calladine blinked. “They’re different cases,” he said. “I’m at a loss to understand that one.” The inspector looked down at the body of the young woman. He’d only spoken to Frankie the previous day. Who had she upset so badly that she’d been murdered?

  Natasha said, “There are marks around her throat, here.” She pointed them out to Calladine. “They look to me like they were made by fingers pressing down hard.”

  Calladine pictured the scene. “There’s a chase. Frankie can’t get away. Her trainer slips off and she chucks it at her attacker. What then? He tries to strangle her?”

  “CSI found some fibres on the barbed wire fence that runs around that rough ground,” Natasha said. “Julian is testing them. He thinks they will match her top. If they do, the possibility is that she was held against the fence by the throat, and the knife thrust into her.”

  She wouldn’t have stood a chance, thought Calladine. “She was all noise, this one. She couldn’t put up much of a fight, there’s nothing of her. I’ll have a word with Julian before I leave.”

  “There’s something else, Tom.” Natasha looked at him, her expression hard. “She was pregnant. About ten weeks.”

  Calladine inhaled. Murder of an adult was bad enough, without killing the innocent and unborn too. “We could do with DNA. Finding out who fathered the child could be important.”

  “If he’s on the database, no problem.”

  “How long had Frankie been dead before she was found?”

  “No more than an hour.”

  “I’ve got a good reason to find her sister now. She needs to be told. Annie is the only close relative Frankie has.”

  Natasha nodded. “I’ll write up the report and send it through before the end of the day.”

  Calladine left her to it and went to find Julian, who was in his lab. He looked up from his microscope and smiled as Calladine entered. Not like him at all.

  “Check Frankie Halliwell’s flat. Look for any sign of drugs. That seems to be the thread running through this investigation,” Calladine said.

  “There’s a team on it now. Has Natasha told you about the fibres?”

  “Yes, I’ve just seen her. But what I really need is a clue about who killed Frankie. I can’t figure out why she had to die. She was on the periphery of this. It was Annie who was the main player.”

  Julian didn’t answer. He seemed preoccupied. Then he said, “Are you okay, Tom, you know . . . with everything?”

  Julian looked sheepish. The question was a reference to the baby, not the case.

  Calladine smiled. “I’m fine with it, Julian. Zoe is a grown woman. I have no right to dictate what she does. Besides, a baby will be good for all of us.”

  “It’ll be hard work.” Julian turned back to his microscope. “But I’m sure we’ll cope between us.”

  Calladine had a mental image of the baby being passed around like a parcel. They were all adults, but they all had demanding jobs. Initially Zoe would take maternity leave, but after that, well, who knew?

  “Let me know what you find at Frankie’s flat,” said Calladine, returning to the matter at hand. “Also, get the techies to retrieve her phone data. I don’t suppose you found any of her belongings at the crime scene?”

  “No, we didn’t. But I do have some other information for you.” Julian reached over to a cabinet and took out a sheaf of papers. “Here’s the report on Bill Geddes’ clothes. No blood or anything else was found to suggest that Ge
ddes killed Sean Barber. If he had stabbed the lad there would have been blood splatter, even if it was only tiny droplets. Also, we found traces of cocaine in his son Alex’s flat. Most notably on the kitchen surfaces. If I had to hazard a guess, I’d say that’s where they cut and packaged the stuff.”

  “Thanks, Julian. I’m pleased about Geddes. I interviewed him. He seemed like a decent man. Confused and grieving, but no killer.”

  Julian continued. “That laptop you gave the techies, the one belonging to Billy Alder. It was straightforward enough. The first email sent to Annie and the ransom demand sent to Alder were both sent from it. One of the technicians found them in the trash folder.” Julian cleared his throat. “Not big on covering his tracks, was he? Conversely, Sean Barber’s laptop has yielded nothing of interest.”

  Calladine headed back to his car. Frankie Halliwell and Sean Barber, what did they have in common? Nothing that he could see. It was a long shot, but he decided to have a word with Kat, see if Sean had ever spoken about Frankie.

  “Tom!” A familiar voice called to him across the car park. “Nice bumping into you.”

  It was Doc Hoyle. “Hello! What are you doing here?” Calladine asked.

  “Thought I’d have some lunch with Julian. He’s in a better frame of mind these days. He’s actually quite good company.”

  Calladine smiled. “Has he told you?”

  “About the baby? Yes. I wasn’t going to mention it because I wasn’t sure if they’d told you yet. I said they should, and the sooner the better.”

  “It’s a little strange — I’m still trying to get my head round it. I like Julian and all that, but from now on he’ll be part of my family.”

  The doc laughed. “Families come in all shapes and sizes these days. Look at me and Margaret. We’ve been separated for years but never divorced. Technically, she’s still my wife.”

  “But you still speak? You’re civil to each other?”

  “Of course. We even holidayed together last year. We had a great time. But she’s best kept at arm’s length.”

  The doc left Calladine in the car park, contemplating the thought of holidaying with Julian.

  Chapter 24

  Calladine gathered the team together in the incident room. “We’ve got two murders, linked we think by the fact that the killer used the same knife. But I’m at a loss to see what Sean Barber and Frankie Halliwell had in common. All we have is a nickname of the villain, ‘Street,’ but we’ve no idea who he is. None of the youngsters we’ve spoken to will tell us anything about him.” Casting a wary eye towards the corridor to make sure Birch was nowhere in sight, he looked round the room. “Theories anyone?”

  “Frankie and Sean could have upset the same dealer?” Alice postulated. “Drugs appear to be behind what’s going on here.”

  “Not with the Alder case, it isn’t,” Calladine said. “And we don’t have confirmation yet if Frankie was a user or not. Also, I’ve just been told by Dr Barrington that Frankie was pregnant. I’m hoping DNA on the foetus will give us the identity of the father.”

  “You don’t think the father was Barber then?” Rocco asked.

  “I’ve no idea. My instinct tells me no. But we need to know who Frankie’s friends were, who she knocked around with.”

  “She was in love with Billy Alder, sir,” Alice reminded him. “He led her on as a cover for his relationship with Annie. I’d say he was the prime suspect for father of the child.”

  Ruth inclined her head. “Could Billy have killed Sean and Frankie? Sean because of what he and the other kids were up to, and Frankie because she threatened his plans.”

  Alice nodded in agreement. “Frankie had texted Annie and threatened to tell Richard what was going on. Perhaps Billy silenced her?”

  “It is possible that Billy had something to do with Frankie’s murder, but he has no link to Sean that I’m aware of,” Calladine told them. “How are we doing with finding out who ‘Street’ is?”

  “No one will say a word,” Rocco said. “Which is odd. Kids aren’t usually so loyal.”

  Calladine thought for a moment. “Unless they are being threatened.” There was a short pause while they mulled this over, then he caught Ruth’s eye. “Or they don’t know,” he said, realising that she was thinking along the same lines as him.

  “Dean Laycock is still in the cells,” Ruth reminded him. “Let’s find out if he’s ever met ‘Street’ face to face.”

  “If he hasn’t, then possibly none of them have. ‘Street’ could be anyone, not necessarily someone their own age.”

  Calladine got to his feet. “Ruth, you and Rocco speak to Laycock again. I’m going to have a word with Sean’s mother, see if she can help with any of this.”

  * * *

  Calladine decided to walk the short distance to Kat Barber’s house. It was easier than struggling to find somewhere to park when he got there. She was still off work organising Sean’s funeral, which was to be held at the end of the week.

  “People have been very kind,” she said. “The neighbours have organised a wake at the Wheatsheaf. One thing less to think about.”

  “Kat, do you know who Sean’s friends were?”

  She sighed heavily. “I know he was involved with those robbing little gits who were terrorising folk in their own homes. But to be honest, Sean was a bit of a loner. He knew the lads from his year in school, that’s about it.”

  “Did he have a girlfriend?”

  “God no! Who’d have him?” Calladine asked.

  “Did he know Frankie Halliwell?”

  “Alder’s sister? I doubt it. Our Sean didn’t mix with the likes of them.”

  “Frankie was Alder’s wife’s sister,” he corrected her, “and she lived on the Hobfield. She didn’t live in that big house. Frankie was simply a live-in guest from time to time.”

  “Well, my Sean didn’t know her. She’d be older than him anyway.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yes. He hadn’t got round to girls yet, far too shy. Why are you so interested?”

  “Because Frankie’s been murdered. Stabbed, like Sean.”

  Kat looked shocked. “That’s awful, but I can’t help.”

  “Did Sean know Billy Alder?”

  “No, I shouldn’t think so. Billy isn’t like his brother, he’s more down to earth, but he wouldn’t bother with the likes of our Sean.”

  Kat seemed very sure. However, she was still unaware that drugs had been found in Sean’s bedroom. Perhaps that was the link. Perhaps Sean had been supplying both Billy and Frankie. “Did Sean seem okay in the days before he was killed? Did he say anything about what he was up to?”

  “He told me nothing. I didn’t even know he’d left the house that night he tried to rob you.”

  “Thanks, Kat. I’ll keep you posted.”

  As he walked back to the station, Calladine rang Natasha at the Duggan for an update.

  “Both Sean Barber and Frankie Halliwell were clean, Tom,” she said. “No sign of drug taking.”

  Another dead end. But it begged the question, what was Sean doing with the drugs found in his bedroom — keeping them for someone?

  * * *

  Ruth sat down opposite Dean Laycock and his solicitor in the interview room. A uniformed officer positioned himself by the door.

  “You okay, Dean?” Ruth tucked her injured right hand under the table. “Treating you well, are we?”

  The lad replied with a grunt. “Wasting your time. I won’t tell you owt.”

  Ruth gave him a smile. “Now, now, Dean, that’s not very nice, is it? You don’t know what we want yet.”

  “Piss off!”

  Ruth ignored the remark. “This ‘Street’ you’re all so fond of. Protect you in the same way, would he?” She asked. “You see, we’re very close to nicking him and I bet when we do, we won’t be able to shut him up. His lot are all the same. Look after number one and stuff the rest.”

  Laycock looked at her. She’d got his attention.
<
br />   “Your little band has gone very quiet since the other night. Street won’t like that. He’ll blame you, Dean, for your stupid behaviour. You wouldn’t want him on your back. Dangerous guy is Street.”

  “You’ve got him wrong. Street’s alright.”

  “Was alright, you mean. He won’t like the lull in trade. When did you last see him?”

  “He texts me all the time.”

  “Are you saying he doesn’t get his own hands dirty? That he doesn’t join you all at your various venues? That’s not fair. You and your mates are taking all the risks.”

  Dean gave a bored shrug. “Street said if we got into trouble with you lot, that he’d sort it.”

  Ruth glanced at James Delaney. Was the solicitor part of Street’s ‘sorting it’?

  “When did you last see Street, Dean? It’s a simple enough question.”

  Dean looked confused. “He texts. I’ve told you.”

  “What about face-to-face meetings?”

  “No, not needed. Street reckons it’s better we’re not seen together.”

  “You’ve never actually set eyes on him, that’s the truth of it, isn’t it, Dean?”

  “He got me ’im.” Dean nodded at Delaney. “He’s supposed to get me out.”

  “Not doing a very good job, is he?” Ruth said, ignoring the glare from the solicitor. “What d’you reckon Street is so afraid of? He won’t show his face, so there must be something. Have you and your little gang discussed it?”

  “He’s alright, I’ve told you. Street won’t let me down. He’ll get me out. He knows people.”

  There was a determined look on Laycock’s face. He was so sure, despite everything he had going against him.

  “I’m afraid that’s not how it works.” Ruth gathered her paperwork together and stood up. “How often did Street contact you?”

  “Every day at least.”

  “Busy little bunch, aren’t you?” She smiled at Delaney. “Thank you, Dean. No doubt we’ll talk again.”

  Back in the incident room Ruth briefed the team on what she’d learned. “I’ll lay odds that none of that crew have ever actually seen this ‘Street.’ He could be anyone. I want Laycock’s phone data. Street and he texted daily. That’s something at least.”