by M J Lee
‘Remember, people, to be extra careful these days. All department Covid safety protocols must be used. Is that clear?’
The assembled detectives nodded their collective heads.
She spoke directly to Ridpath. ‘You are the family liaison with Michael Carsley for the coroner, aren’t you?’
How did Claire Trent know? Had Emily Parkinson reported back or had she talked to Mrs Challinor?
‘I am, guvnor,’ he answered.
‘What did you think? I heard you visited the house yesterday.’
All eyes turned on him. She was putting him on the spot in front of everybody and especially in front of Turnbull.
‘I don’t know, guvnor, it was a quick visit to introduce myself.’
‘I asked you what you thought, Ridpath.’
She was pushing hard. He breathed out. ‘I don’t know, guvnor, but it didn’t feel right…’
Turnbull snorted. ‘There he goes with his feelings and hunches again.’
Claire Trent ignored him. ‘What do you mean?’
‘I’m sorry, guvnor, nothing concrete, I just felt they were hiding something. Not telling me everything they knew.’
‘And where’s your evidence for that assertion, Ridpath?’ Turnbull was confronting him directly, a bright red vein standing out in stark relief on his bald head.
Ridpath shrugged his shoulders. ‘No evidence, boss. I felt that there was something there, something hidden.’
Turnbull rolled his eyes towards the ceiling. ‘In the meantime, the rest of us will keep gathering the evidence while you gather your “feelings”.’ He formed quotation marks in the air with his fingers.
A couple of the detectives on the left laughed. Ridpath didn’t know them, they were new to the department. Obviously, Turnbull’s hires, as they knew when to laugh at their boss’s jokes.
Claire Trent brought the meeting to a close. ‘Our most important case is catching the Chorlton Ees killer before he strikes again. Make it happen. Something must have given him away. A small slip-up that could lead us to him. Find those little mistakes and we find our killer. That’s all. Stay safe, people.’
Ridpath got up and filed out of the meeting. He noticed Turnbull staring in his direction, a scowl plastered on his face.
It wasn’t until he reached the car park that Harry Makepeace caught up with him.
‘The boss wants to see you, Ridpath.’
‘What does Turnbull want?’
‘Not him. The real boss. Claire Trent.’
Chapter 13
Ridpath knocked on the door of her office and waited for the call to enter.
It came after a few seconds. He walked in to find Claire Trent closing a file on her desk and placing it carefully to her left.
‘Is that me, guvnor?’ He pointed at the file.
‘It is. Your psychological and occupational health report. The psychiatrist has cleared you to return to work but still wants you to attend sessions with her. Why is that?’
‘I don’t know, you’ll have to ask her.’
‘I’ll do that.’ Claire Trent made a note in her diary and then pointed to the chair, ‘Sit down.’
Ridpath wondered what all this was about. Was he due for a bollocking again? He’d only been back on the job for a day, what had he done wrong this time?
‘What do you know about the Carsley case?’
‘Not a lot. I met the father yesterday to begin the coroner’s liaison with family. He’s asked for the release of his child’s body for burial.’
‘We can’t release it yet, Ridpath.’
‘Why?’
‘As SIO, Paul Turnbull has to agree we don’t need it for our ongoing investigations.’
Ridpath expected Claire Trent to say more but she stayed silent. Eventually, he spoke. ‘I’ll let the father know, but I’ll also get the undertaker to liaise with the mortuary so we’re ready when he gives the go-ahead.’
‘Fair enough.’ Claire Trent bit down on the end of her pen. Ridpath could see other indentations where her teeth had done damage. ‘What did you think of him?’
‘The father?’
She nodded.
‘Obviously upset and trying to come to terms with the loss of his son. He seemed out of it – he’s going through a lot.’
‘Do you think he could have done it?’
‘A father murdering his own son? It never occurred to me.’
‘Think about it now.’
‘Why are you asking?’
‘Because he has no alibi for the time of the boy’s disappearance. He says he was in the house watching TV but when we asked him about the programmes, he didn’t have a clue.’
‘That’s not unusual. Sometimes we stare at the screen, not knowing what’s on.’
Claire Trent looked at him for a moment before speaking. ‘Paul Turnbull wants to bring him in for questioning. I’ll ask you again, do you think he could have done it?’
Ridpath went back to his interview with Michael Carsley, replaying the answers, seeing the man’s shaking hands and hearing the tremor in his voice. ‘No, I don’t think he did. There is something there, something hidden, but I don’t think he murdered his own son. I don’t think he’s the type.’
Claire Trent’s right eyebrow rose. ‘There’s a type?’
‘No. But he struck me as a father who had lost a son he loved, not a man who’d committed murder.’ Ridpath put his hands up. ‘I could be wrong, though, and he may be one of the world’s best actors…’
‘But you don’t think you are?’
‘No.’
Claire Trent let out a long sigh. ‘I’m inclined to agree, but Paul is insisting he wants to question the man formally.’
‘If you bring him in, the press will crucify him.’
‘That’s where you come in.’
Ridpath knew there was a reason why she wanted to see him.
Chapter 14
‘I’d like you to look at the Carsley case.’
Ridpath sighed. ‘I’ve just come to work, boss, I don’t know if I’m up to it.’
Claire Trent stared at him. ‘Let me rephrase that. I need you to look at the Carsley case. Start from the beginning, leave no stone unturned, question all our assumptions.’
‘An alternative investigation?’
‘A parallel investigation.’ Claire Trent leant back in her chair. ‘Listen, Ridpath, the press is hounding me, half of Manchester is hassling me, the chief constable is up my bum checking what I’m doing and I’m worried the investigation is heading down so many blind alleys it’s going to get lost. Turnbull is a good copper but he’s a classic SIO – follows the handbook to the letter and lacks your—’
‘Panache?’
‘—Don’t push it. I was going to say enquiring mind. We need a fresh pair of eyes to look at what we’ve done and see where we went wrong.’
‘And I’m the eyes?’
‘And the warrant card.’
Ridpath thought for a moment. ‘What about the coroner?’ Ridpath saw the look on his boss’s face and answered his own question. ‘You’ve already cleared it with her, haven’t you?’
Claire Trent nodded. ‘She was concerned about your health but I reassured her you wouldn’t be pushing too hard, merely looking over our investigation.’
‘And she agreed?’
‘She wants you to help clear the backlog of work in the Coroner’s Office, and, as this is one of their most important cases at the moment, she has – reluctantly – agreed.’ His boss sat forward again. ‘If you want my five pennyworth, Ridpath, you’re happiest when you’re working, when you’ve got a problem to sink your teeth into. All this sitting at home moping isn’t good for you.’
For Ridpath the penny finally dropped. ‘You put pressure on my psychiatrist to sign me off as fit to work, didn’t you?’
Claire Trent sat back again, smiling. ‘She agreed with me that a return to work was in your best interests… and those of the department.’
‘Tha
t’s why she still wants to see me?’
‘She felt she wanted to monitor your progress.’
Ridpath was silent for a moment before he said, ‘I’ll need some help.’
Another smile briefly appeared on Claire Trent’s lips. ‘Who do you want?’
‘Emily Parkinson is wasted as the FLO at Carsley’s house. She knows the case already.’
‘You’ve got her. We need to pull her off that duty anyway.’
‘And Chrissy to do some of the legwork.’
‘Very funny, Ridpath. She’s not that mobile any more.’
‘I don’t need her mobility, I need her mind and her facility with the Police computers.’
‘OK, you’ve got them both.’ A long pause. ‘I’ll need a report on my desk before Saturday.’
‘But that’s only three days away.’
She shrugged her shoulders. ‘Three days is a long time in policing.’
He stood up. ‘I’d better get started.’
She passed across a file.
‘What’s this?’
‘The criminal profiler’s report. Read it quickly. He’s convinced the killer will strike again. And soon.’
He took the file and walked to the door.
‘One more thing, Ridpath.’
He turned back slowly to face Claire Trent.
‘Paul Turnbull is not to know. This is your investigation and you report directly to me. Understood?’
‘How can I access the case files without him knowing?’
‘Find a way.’
‘He’s supposed to be my boss.’
‘I’m your boss and I’m his boss. You have your instructions, make it happen.’
She went back to her report and began writing in the margins.
For her, he was no longer there.
Chapter 15
Emily Parkinson was sitting at her desk, typing an entry into her computer.
Ridpath plonked himself down next to her. ‘Do you have a minute, Emily?’
‘Not at the moment, I have to finish last night’s report as a FLO at the Carsleys. I’m due at the house in…’ She checked her watch. ‘Shit. Thirty minutes.’
‘I think your time as a Family Liaison Officer is over.’
‘No, it isn’t. I’m on the 12–8 shift.’
Paul Turnbull joined them. ‘Emily, you’re off the Carsley job, the guvnor wants to reassign you elsewhere.’ And then, as if noticing that Ridpath was there, ‘Hello, Ridpath, I see you’re back in MIT.’ He chortled to himself. ‘But not back in MIT, if you know what I mean.’
Ridpath knew exactly what he meant. He was back in the office, but not back as a member of the team. What Turnbull didn’t know was that he had already decided not to return even before Polly was shot. Seeing Turnbull’s gurning face in front of him simply confirmed the correctness of that decision. He decided to play it straight.
‘Yes, sir. Started at the Coroner’s Office yesterday, glad to be back at work.’
‘I bet you are. Now, shove off and let DS Parkinson finish her stuff. Just because you’re single now doesn’t mean all the female officers are fair game.’
Ridpath gritted his teeth.
Emily Parkinson quickly covered the tension. ‘Where am I being reassigned, boss?’
Turnbull shrugged his shoulders. ‘Beats me, you’ll need to ask Claire Trent. Why should I know what you’re doing? I’m only the boss round here.’
‘OK, I’ll ask her.’
‘Do that.’
A detective Ridpath didn’t know was hovering nearby. Turnbull finally acknowledged his existence.
‘The car’s ready to take you to the Carsleys’, boss.’
‘OK, about bloody time.’
The detective hesitated.
‘Well, what are you standing there for? Bring it round the front, Sam.’
‘Yes, boss.’ The detective hurried away.
Turnbull took a few steps towards his office, turning back as if he had forgotten something. ‘A word of advice, Ridpath: keep your nose clean. And by clean I mean spotless. Otherwise, I’ll make it my life’s work to ensure you never step inside this office again. Crystal?’
‘As the Rochdale Canal, Detective Chief Inspector Turnbull.’ Ridpath made the rank sound like a swear word.
Turnbull smiled and walked slowly back to his office.
‘He’s got it in for you.’
‘You don’t say? Looks like I’m not wanted in MIT.’
Emily Parkinson glanced around the room. ‘New blood coming in, Ridpath. Turnbull’s creating his little fiefdom.’ She stood up. ‘Anyway, nice chatting. I need to find out what I’m supposed to be working on now.’
‘Don’t bother, give me five minutes and I’ll tell you. Chrissy is joining us too.’
DS Emily Parkinson’s eyes narrowed. ‘What exactly are you up to, Ridpath?’
Chapter 16
‘What?’
‘I said, the guvnor has asked me to look into the Carsley case from the beginning. Go through all the evidence, check assumptions, see if there is anything we missed.’
They were back in the Situation Room. With Turnbull gone, it was as good a place as any to meet. On the walls, pictures of the victim, a playground, the place where the body was found and photofits of possible witnesses, along with the usual detritus of any investigation; scribbled notes, questions to be answered and actions to be taken.
‘I heard you the first time. But what’s that got to do with us?’ She pointed to Chrissy sitting next to her, the right foot in the cast sticking out from beneath the desk.
‘I asked for you two to be assigned to help me.’
‘But that’s Turnbull’s case. He’s going to go apeshit when he finds out.’
‘He’s not supposed to find out.’
‘What? We’re supposed to go back over a case without him knowing?’
‘Those are the instructions from the guvnor. Are you in or out?’
Chrissy smiled broadly. ‘I’m in. I think we got this case wrong from the beginning.’
‘And you, Emily? If you don’t want to be part of it, I’ll understand and ask for somebody else.’
‘Who else? Harry Makepeace? He’d tell Turnbull what you were doing within five minutes and the rest are his poodles.’
‘Is that an in then?’
‘It’s a “there’s not a lot I can do about it” in.’
‘Good enough. Tell me about the case, starting from the beginning.’
Emily tapped her fingers on the desk. ‘Look, whatever you think about Turnbull, he’s run this investigation by the book. I was part of the team from the start. We were called in at 9.10 on 23 July. A child’s body had been found at Chorlton Ees by a man walking his dog.’
‘How quickly was it identified as David Carsley?’
‘Almost immediately. We’d been looking for a boy for a couple of days since he was reported missing from Wythenshawe Park.’
‘Who identified the body?’
‘The father, Michael Carsley. We showed him a pair of shoes and a United shirt found close to it first. He recognised them immediately and then identified his son.’
‘Poor man,’ said Chrissy. ‘Imagine being the one asked to look at your dead seven-year-old’s corpse.’
‘You were there when he made the ID?’
Emily nodded.
‘What was his reaction?’
‘Stunned and then disbelief. He wanted to go back in and check he hadn’t made a mistake. We had to restrain him, stop him from returning to the mortuary.’
‘There was a post-mortem?’
‘Yeah, done by Schofield. As detailed as ever.’
‘Could you download the report for me, Chrissy?’
‘Is there a case number for this job?’
‘I don’t know but could you ask Claire Trent and set one up?’
‘Will do.’
‘What was the cause of death?’
‘Strangulation. The rope was still around the child�
��s neck.’
‘No DNA?’
‘According to Schofield, the body showed signs of being washed and cleaned before being deposited.’
‘So no fingerprints either?’
Emily shook her head. ‘The boy’s underpants were missing, though. We searched the area thoroughly and didn’t find them.’
‘A trophy taker?’
‘Possibly, or they may have been lost when the boy was transported.’
‘Any witnesses or CCTV?’
‘None around the area, unfortunately. There were reports after we posted the photofit pictures of a woman seen walking away from the area around the time the body was discovered. She hasn’t come forward.’
‘A woman? That’s a pretty detailed description,’ said Ridpath sarcastically. ‘Covers about half the population of Manchester.’
‘Yeah, we’ve also checked all the traffic footage from both the Wythenshawe park area and Chorlton Ees, running a comparison to see if any car had been in both areas at the time of the kidnap of David Carsley and the disposal of his body.’
‘And?’
‘Nothing. Not a sausage.’
‘It means the killer used two different cars, that’s all,’ said Chrissy.
‘Or we haven’t compared the right footage at the right time,’ added Ridpath.
‘Four of the cameras were down. Budget cuts, according to the Highway Authority. They hadn’t got round to repairing them yet.’
‘How long were they not working?’
‘At least a month before the abduction of the boy.’
‘Shit.’
‘My words exactly, Ridpath.’
He thought for a moment, his eyes darting left and right as he considered the possibilities. ‘Where did we get the photofit?’ he eventually asked.
Chrissy answered. ‘David’s brother Daniel was with him in the park.’
‘They were together?’
‘No. Daniel was playing basketball with his school friends while David was playing on the swings. Daniel said he stopped playing and ran over to David when he saw a man talking to his brother.’
‘What time was this?’
‘One twenty roughly. Daniel ran over and spoke to the man, telling him to leave his brother alone.’