by Conrad Jones
Ade looked at Braddick, “Did Tucker do this or is he being stitched up?” he asked with a frown.
Braddick shrugged. “It looks that way doesn’t it? He killed the other Johnson brothers so it would make sense that he killed Ray and if that is his container, then what other conclusion would we come to?”
“I’m inclined to agree with you that there is a bit of jiggery pokery going on,” Kathy said straight faced.
“That’s a technical phrase, right?” Ade smirked.
“She’s a scientist,” Braddick shrugged.
Kathy ignored them, a half smile on her lips. “It may look like someone stripped the container, murdered Johnson and then evacuated the building taking everything with them, right?”
“Certainly looks that way at first glance.”
“Look at this,” Kathy said as they walked back down the stairs and headed towards the reception area. The walls and ceiling were scorched. “We found this male towards the rear of the building.” A large male in his fifties lay on his back, his eyes wide and staring, skin blistered and burned. “Lividity and body temp put the time of death at between midnight and three.”
“So it is unlikely he had anything to do with Ray Johnson.”
“Very unlikely.”
“What do we know about the fire,” Braddick asked. He found it difficult to take his eyes from the blistered skin. Karin’s face drifted to him. The pangs of guilt squeezed his insides. He wondered how long the pain lasted before his heart gave out. “Was he alive before he burned?”
“I’ve checked inside the mouth and nose,” Kathy nodded slowly as she spoke. “There’s significant tissue damage to the back of his throat and his nostrils.”
“He breathed in the flames,” Ade sighed. Nobody answered. Nobody needed to.
“Where did it start?” Braddick asked, changing the subject.
“Over here,” Kathy walked towards the back wall. “There are burn patterns which originate from the gas main over here. It was capped off with a rubber plug but the plug was attached to the door that links the reception to the service bays. They used a wire filament to make a booby trap. When the reception door was opened, the cap was removed and gas began to fill the building. All it needed was a light to be switched on or a cigarette and boom.”
“So that caused the explosion and subsequent fire?”
“Yes.” She pointed to the dead man. “He was closest to the main where the gas was concentrated.”
“A makeshift burglar alarm,” Ade commented with a crooked smile. “They must have had an idea that someone was going to break in. You don’t leave a trap like that on a whim. That was designed to kill whoever was coming.”
“And destroy any trace,” Kathy added. “If that hole hadn’t been punched in the wall the entire site would have continued to burn until the gas was cut off.”
“You’re right,” Braddick agreed. “If we find out who he is, we’ll have a better idea what happened.”
“We’ll take his prints and have them run through the system before he’s moved.”
“I’ll put money on him being in the system,” Ade mumbled.
“Let’s hope so. If he is we’ll have a result straight away.” Kathy walked away from the body. “Here’s where it gets interesting,” Kathy said pointing to the reception area. “We entered the building through the hole in the wall of the reception area and then we walked through to the service bays and opened one of the doors. There are no exits to the rear and all the roller shutters were down and locked.”
“So he was locked in here?” Ade assumed.
“Someone definitely laid a trap,” Braddick nodded. Ade looked confused but kept quiet. “You’re saying that someone broke in through the reception, opened the door to the service area and triggered the gas leak and then someone outside locked them in.”
“Yes.”
“Then someone else drove something big through the wall to let whoever was trapped in here, out,” Braddick added.
“Exactly,” Kathy agreed.
“But we don’t know who was trapped and we don’t know who did the trapping,” Ade said looking at the dead man. “I think he’s one of Tucker’s men.”
“I’ll have his prints done now and let you know straight away. We’ve recovered some DNA trace near the trailer.”
“What?” Braddick asked.
“There’s some blood on the container and phlegm and saliva on the floor near the trailer.”
“Someone spat on the floor?” Ade asked.
“Yes.” Kathy frowned at the thought. “Disgusting habit but some people don’t even realise they do it. Once I have the results back I’ll be in touch but...”
“But it’ll take a few days,” Braddick smiled. She nodded thin lipped. “Thanks again, Kathy.”
“No problem.”
“Let’s go and find the Tuckers shall we,” he said to Ade.
“I don’t think they’re going to be at home in bed do you?”
“No.” Braddick said shaking his head. He looked around at the scorched walls and ceilings. “If they were in here they’re going to be a little crispy around the edges.” They headed towards the service bay doors. The air became fresher with every step. Braddick couldn’t wait to be free of the stench of burnt flesh. His mobile rang. “Braddick.”
“Hello, Guv it’s Google.”
“What’s up, Google?” Braddick smiled.
“A body has been found in a warehouse near the bowling alley,” Google said with a sigh. “It’s our witness.”
“Cookie?” Braddick asked with a sinking feeling in his guts.
“Yes, Guv.”
“Is it an overdose?”
“Yes, Guv but I’m suspicious about something in the report.”
“I’m on my way back; we can talk when I get there.”
“Right, Guv. See you when you get back.”
The line went dead as they exited the unit. “More good news?”
“Danny Cook has been found dead near the bowling alley,” Braddick replied sliding the mobile into his inside pocket. “Overdose apparently.”
“That’s not going to help us lock up the Tuckers.”
“No it isn’t.”
“Did they get lucky or did they make their own luck?”
Braddick frowned and nodded, knowing the answer deep inside. “The thing with luck is it can run out.” Braddick looked around and then looked back inside at the container. “Let’s say that you ran this business,” he turned to Ade. “Why would you suddenly shut it down and set it ready to burn?”
“Maybe I thought that the police were on to me?”
“Would you rig a gas main if the police were coming?”
“No,” Ade said frowning, “If I’m not running from the police then the only other reason would be another outfit was on to me.”
“In which case, you might rig the gas main.”
“Makes sense.”
“Okay, then you had to think about a large shipment of drugs that had just landed, a container full in fact,” Braddick looked at the canal. “How would you move them?”
“That would be the safest option,” Ade nodded to the canal. “No police cars, no rival gangsters to steal my drugs, ideal really.”
They walked across the road to the canal bank. Four barges were moored against the far bank, hatches battened down for the winter. Three of the moorings were empty. Braddick walked further along the bank to see what was around a curve in the canal. At least a dozen barges were moored, inactive until their owners deemed the weather warm enough to sail once more. A dog walker on the opposite bank nodded hello, a curious look on his face.
“Afternoon,” he shouted.
“Good afternoon,” Braddick called back. “Do you walk your dog here every day?”
“I do,” he answered suspiciously, half walking and half stopped.
“Tell me, when do the barges start moving?”
“Depends on the weather really,” the dog walker shrugged, h
is Labrador threatening to drag him over. “Nothing much happens until March, April.”
“Are there always mooring s available here?” he asked pointing to the empty berths.
“Are you thinking about buying a boat?”
“Something like that,” Braddick lied.
“It is always full here. All year round,” he looked towards the empty spots. “They moved off the day before yesterday heading towards Chester. There’s a boatyard there. Most owners get their repairs done this time of year, unusual to see three empty berths anytime here.”
“Thanks,” Braddick said with a wave. He looked at Ade. “Coincidence?”
“I would be very surprised if it is.”
“Get onto Google and ask him to contact the Transport Police and ask them if they have had any of their boats on this stretch of the canal in the last few days. I would think that three barges moving towards Chester at the same time would stick in your memory when it is this quiet.”
“Will do, Guv. I’ll get them to send us a layout of the waterways south of here as well.”
“We had better share this with DI Cain too,” Braddick added. He looked at the dull brown water and thought about going to see Bryn Evans briefly. If he did, it would have to be later on. He had promised his brother, Mark, that he would keep in touch and decided to give him a call when he got back to his vehicle.
36
Simon walked into the kitchen and switched on the kettle. He opened three cupboards before he found the mugs and took four, placing them in a line on the granite worktop. Three glass jars held tea, coffee and sugar and then he realised that they had no milk. He swore beneath his breath and switched the kettle off remembering a couple of shops that they had passed the night before. He decided to drive there and buy some breakfast supplies before his parents woke up. They were stressed enough without adding hunger to their list of woes. He patted his pockets for the car keys and then remembered that he had put them on the table near the front door. As he walked into the living room, his mobile began to ring.
“Hello, Jacob,” he answered, keen to speak to him and get the latest news on Bryn. “How are things?”
“Things are not good, Simon,” Jacob sounded worried. “They are not good at all. Are you all okay there?”
“We’re fine. Everyone is sleeping. What’s happened?” Simon stammered.
“I’m afraid Bryn has been rushed into hospital.”
“Is he okay?”
“No, Simon. He isn’t.” Jacob paused to choose his words carefully. “I’m afraid he was attacked in prison. He has a serious head injury and is being taken to hospital.”
“How did that happen?” Simon asked lost for words. “He was supposed to be protected.”
“I don’t know how it happened. I’m sure we can look into it at a later date but casting blame doesn’t improve the situation now. I am very concerned about him.”
“How bad is he?”
“He is critical, Simon.”
“Jesus, what is wrong with him?”
“All we know is that there was an altercation in his cell and he was punched and kicked. He stopped breathing but a doctor at the prison performed an operation, a tracheotomy of some sort but although he is breathing he’s unconscious and unresponsive which is very concerning. That is why they think he has damaged his skull. It could be something that they missed at the hospital. Head injuries are so difficult to see.”
“I don’t understand how this could happen, for God’s sake,” Simon pushed his hair from his face and shook his head as he tried to make sense of the information. “A tracheotomy, isn’t that where they cut into the windpipe to stop you choking?”
“Exactly. The doctor working that day said that he thinks he was choking on his teeth,” Jacob said quietly.
“What?” Simon hissed. “His teeth? Someone knocked his teeth out?”
“I’m afraid so.”
“How hard do you have to hit someone to knock their teeth out?” Simon asked aloud. “No wonder they are concerned about his head. If he’s unresponsive then that is very worrying. Where are they taking him to?”
“Walton Hospital. It specialises in neurology.” Jacob waited a few seconds while the news sank in. “I’ll be going there as soon as we’re finished here. I have a driver coming for me now.”
“A driver?” Simon asked confused.
“You have my car.”
“Sorry, I forgot. I’m struggling to keep up with all this. We’ll leave here immediately,” Simon said, shocked.
“I’m not sure that you should.”
“What?”
“Your parents are safe there. You’ll be bringing them back to the lion’s den.”
“They will want to be with Bryn.”
“Simon, they may not allow anyone but his legal representative in to see him.”
“That is ridiculous. Even though he is so sick?”
“He’s on a murder charge, Simon. The law is the law and it applies to everyone no matter what the circumstances.”
“Shit! What the bloody hell are we supposed to do, just sit here and wait?”
“I think you should wait until we have a prognosis and then make a decision.”
“We can’t stay here while Bryn is in hospital in a critical condition. Mum and Dad will run there if they have to. God help anyone who tried to stop her seeing him.”
“They will.”
“How could they stop a mother seeing her child?”
“How do you think things happen in Strange ways, Simon?”
“That is different.”
“It is not. He is a prisoner in the care of Her Majesty’s Prisons and they will treat him accordingly. Your mother will not be allowed in without permission. Once we have a prognosis, she may well be able to gain that permission, with my help of course, but until then he is a prisoner.”
“She will cause havoc if they don’t let her in.”
“They will arrest her and lock her up, Simon.”
“That I would like to see,” Simon sighed. “They would have to shoot her,”
“Under the circumstances maybe such a suggestion should be kept to one’s self,” Jacob said thoughtfully. “I do not see what good it would do sitting in a waiting room where you would be both useless and in danger. The result will be what it will be. Only Bryn and the doctors can influence proceedings now.”
“What do you think I should do?”
“Perhaps you should wait a while before you tell them what has happened?”
“I can’t do that, Jacob!”
“I’m thinking about their safety.”
“I know but if he is that bad anything could happen.”
“And if they do not know how bad he is then they cannot worry about it. Ignorance is bliss in this situation.”
“Yes but I’m not ignorant. I know the facts.”
“You know the bare facts and that is all you know.”
“Until the doctors examine him, none of us know what will happen.”
“I know that but if anything happens to him and I hadn’t told them,” Simon felt a lump in his throat, “I couldn’t live with myself.”
“Okay, I understand. But my advice is to at least wait until the doctors at the hospital have assessed him.”
“We’re two hours’ drive away here, we could be too late.”
“It is your decision ultimately but I do not see them letting you see him. I would be surprised.”
“What if he dies, mum and dad would never get over it and they would never forgive me if I hadn’t told them.”
“He will probably already be at the hospital. Give me twenty minutes to get there and I’ll call you. Then you can make a decision.”
“I can’t not tell them, Jacob. Not even for five minutes”
“I understand.”
“We’ll see you at the hospital.”
“Indeed. I fear that you will. Be careful.”
“Keep me posted.”
“Of course,�
�� Jacob paused. “Simon, about the calls that I said I would make to some of my more influential clients.”
“Yes.”
“I was assured that pressure would be applied to Eddie Farrell indirectly. My contacts seemed sure that they could persuade him to back off.”
“Thank you,” Simon said unconvinced. “I’m not sure that Farrell is the type to be persuaded, are you?”
“Given some time, yes; money makes the world go around. It is the immediate future that concerns me the most. Be careful and I’ll see you at the hospital.”
“Bye.”
Simon stared at the screen for long seconds after the call had ended. He fought a running battle in his mind over what to do. Should he tell them the full extent of Bryn’s injuries or not? Did he have the right to lie to them in order to protect them from the truth? Would they thank him for it? He didn’t think so but he didn’t want to walk his parents into danger either. Jacob was right. They wouldn’t let them sit around his bed as if nothing had happened. He was on remand for murder. He had to apply some clarity to things no matter how difficult it was. The Farrells had managed to get to Bryn despite all the assurances. His parents would be sitting ducks if he took them back to the city. They all would be.
“Are you alright?” Mark’s voice made him jump. He looked sleepy and rubbed his eyes. He had a black vest and blue boxer shorts on. “I thought I heard voices.”
“You did. I was on the phone,” Simon said walking past him. He closed the door that led to the bedrooms and spoke quietly. “Let’s go into the kitchen. We need to talk.” They stepped into the kitchen and Simon closed that door too. Despite being half asleep, Mark looked worried.
“What has happened?”
“Bryn has been attacked in prison.”
“Fucking hell!” Mark growled. “They said he would be in isolation.”
“Obviously something went wrong.”
“Is he alright?”
“No. They think he has a head injury. A bad one.”
“What do you mean they think he has?”
“He’s unconscious and unresponsive.”
“Where is he?”