by John Nicholl
‘Come on, son, don’t be shy. We’re all on the same side.’
This is it, Kieran. This is your moment. ‘Sir, I’ve got something to report.’ Glory was imminent. They wouldn’t be laughing after this.
He took his pocket book from the top right-hand pocket of his tunic and turned dramatically to the relevant page, which he’d earlier marked with an oversized paper clip. He made an unnecessary show of referring to his notes, cleared his throat loudly, and began, ‘Sir, at seventeen thirty hours, I interviewed eighty-seven-year-old Mrs Rachel Evans at her home, Rose House, located almost exactly opposite the Mailers’ cottage.’
‘Come on, son, you’re not in court now. Get on with it, for fuck’s sake. What did the old dear have to say for herself?’
Harris took a deep intake of breath, puffed out his chest and continued. ‘Mrs Evans informed me that during the early hours of this morning, she saw a large white van, which was covered in rust, parked directly outside the Mailers’ home. She couldn’t give an exact time, and she didn’t know the make of the vehicle.’
Gravel knew the answer was going to be ‘no’ before asking the question. ‘Did she see the number plate, son?’
‘No, sir. I did ask, but no.’
‘I suppose that would have been too much to ask for. Right son, anything else?’
‘Mrs Evans saw two men leave the cottage and drive off in the van. One of the men was carrying something on his shoulder. She said it could have been a child.’
‘Description, son, did you get a description?’
How could he forget the description? He swallowed hard. ‘That’s the strange thing, sir. She said they were dressed from head to foot in white, even their heads.’
The inspector looked perplexed. ‘Right son, is that it?’
‘She said one man was tall and muscular and the other shorter and slightly overweight. The shorter one was carrying what could have been the boy.’
Harris sat back in his seat and awaited his plaudits.
‘That’s great, son, but why the fuck didn’t you tell me all this earlier? Every minute matters. You’ve got a fucking radio, haven’t you? Use the fucking thing.’
The DI paused briefly to collect his thoughts. ‘Right, Clive, you heard what the boy had to say for himself. Get yourself over to the old dear’s house and take a full statement from her. Hawkins, check the system, find out if any of the local nonces own or have access to a white van meeting the description. This could be the break we need. I’m going to be in the station for another hour or two and then you can get me at home if you need to.’
He focused on Harris, who avoided his accusing gaze. ‘I don’t want anyone else making the same mistake as the boy here. Pick up the fucking phone or use your radio immediately if you find out anything useful.’
There was a chorus of, ‘Yes, sir!’ from every corner of the room.
Gravel was about to bring the meeting to a timely close when Harris put his hand up for a second time. This time nobody laughed. ‘Sir, there is one more thing. I don’t know if it’s significant.’
This had better be good. ‘Come on, son, let’s hear it.’
Harris reopened his pocket book and frantically searched for the relevant page. ‘Sir, at ten to four this morning, I stopped a van meeting the description given by Mrs Evans in Eden Road.’
‘Oh, for fuck’s sake, you have to tell me this stuff. Right, bollocking over. Did you by any chance get the index number?’
‘I requested a PNC check, sir. The registered keeper has a history of dishonesty offences, but he’s not currently wanted.’
‘What’s his name?’
‘Fisher, Wayne Fisher. I issued him with a HORT1.’
‘Did you look in the van?’
Harris looked suddenly paler. ‘I didn’t give it any thought, to be honest, sir.’
‘No worries, son, you’ve done well.’
The thin smile that crossed the young constable’s face quickly became a frown. This wasn’t going to go down well. ‘Sir, I need to inform you that there was a second man in the van with Fisher.’
‘A second man?’
‘Yes, sir!’
Gravel shook his head. ‘I’m assuming they weren’t dressed in white?’
The young constable’s face reddened. ‘No, sir.’
‘Did you get the second man’s details?’
‘No, sir.’
‘Did you get a look at him?’
‘I’m sorry, it was dark, and the passenger didn’t turn to face me. I was focused on checking the driver’s documents. I just didn’t think it mattered at the time.’
‘Don’t beat yourself up. You couldn’t have known it could be important. Things seem a lot clearer after the event. You’ve done well, keep up the good work.’
35
Gravel handed Rankin a chipped mug containing a generous tot of cheap-blended corner-shop whisky. ‘Well, Clive, my boy, we’ve been friends a long time, tell me what you think?’
The DS took a swig of whisky and grimaced as the malty spirit burned his throat. ‘It’s a long shot, boss, but you never know your luck. It is one hell of a coincidence. Same description, same night, small town, not much traffic. It’s possible, I guess.’
The inspector refilled both mugs and shook his head. ‘What the fuck was Wayne Fisher doing in Eden Road at that time of the morning? You’ve had recent dealings with him. What do you make of it?’
‘I’m not sure, boss. He’s got a long history of theft, burglary, receiving, that sort of thing, but no history of violence or anything involving kids, as far as I’m aware. It’s got to be worth a look I guess, but I can’t see it to be honest.’
Gravel leant back in his seat and rested his feet on the desk. ‘Right, Clive, I’ve got one or two things to mull over, but no doubt we’ll be paying our friend Mr Fisher a visit in the morning. The way I look at it, we’ve got fuck all to lose. Sort out a search warrant and I’ll see you at five. Now, piss off home and get some sleep.’
Rankin got up to leave, glad of the opportunity to finally see his family. He turned to the inspector as he left and casually touched his head with the side of one hand in reflexive salute. ‘Will do, boss, see you in the morning.’
The second Rankin left the office, Gravel poured the remainder of his whisky into a plant pot, kicked his office door shut, and picked up the phone. What the hell was Trevor Simpson’s home number?
He flicked through his contacts book. Trevor Simpson? Trevor Simpson? Yes, there it was.
He dialled the number. Get a move on, Trevor, answer the fucking thing.
‘DI Simpson.’
‘Hello, Trevor, it’s Grav. About fucking time. Sorry to bother you at home, mate, but you know how it is.’
‘I certainly do, no peace for the wicked, eh? What can I do for you?’
‘I could be wrong, but am I right in thinking that Wayne Fisher has been mentioned as part of your paedophile ring investigation?’
‘It was all a bit vague to be honest, Grav. He’s only been mentioned by the one child, and she couldn’t be certain of his identity. The description she gave doesn’t match aspects of his appearance. He may or may not be involved. I’ve got my doubts. We’d need a lot more before pulling him in.’
‘But it’s a possibility?’
‘Well, I guess it’s a possibility. I haven’t ruled it out completely. Why do you ask?’
‘It’s a long shot to be honest, Trevor. You know this Mailer case I’m working on, GBH to the mother, and a missing seven-year-old boy?’
‘Yeah, of course, but where does Fisher fit in?’
‘I doubt if he does, but it’s worth considering. I’ve got fuck all else at the moment. An old dear living opposite the crime scene is saying she saw a white van matching the description of Fisher’s vehicle parked outside the house on the night of the abduction.’
Simpson laughed loudly. ‘There are a lot of white vans about. You’re not getting desperate, are you?’
&nb
sp; ‘One of our young probationers ran a PNC check on Fisher’s van in Eden Road in the early hours. It meets the description. Large white van, rusty, right sort of time, and there was someone else in the vehicle.’
‘Any idea who?’
‘No.’
‘Got a description?’
‘Nothing of any use.’
‘Eden Road? That’s well out of Fisher’s usual stomping ground. Eden Road? Eden Road? It does ring a bell.’
‘Come on, Trevor, get a grip, for fuck’s sake. Spit it out, I’ve got a bed to go to.’
There was a few seconds’ silence before Simpson responded, ‘It’s probably nothing, but Galbraith lives there, the psychiatrist.’
‘I don’t like coincidences.’
‘Oh, come on, I don’t see Fisher and Galbraith as friends, do you?’
Grav laughed. ‘No, you’ve got a point there. I can’t see them having too much in common.’
‘Look Grav, the ring investigation’s making surprisingly good progress. Things have moved on a lot quicker than I could have hoped for. I talked to the CPS this afternoon, as it happens. We’ve got enough to arrest five of the suspects as of now, four men and one woman. Fisher isn’t on the list at the moment, and he isn’t likely to be unless additional evidence surfaces, but Galbraith is. There are still a few outstanding video interviews with child witnesses arranged for tomorrow, which with a bit of luck may give us enough for more arrests. It’s a game in progress. I’m only going to know the situation for certain when I review the joint investigation tapes and see what we’ve got. There’s a planning meeting arranged at the social services resource centre at two on Tuesday to agree the timing of arrests etcetera. Can you hold off any action on Fisher until after that? In the unlikely event he’s involved, I wouldn’t want any of the suspects getting the idea we’re onto them any sooner than they need to know.’
Grav shook his head. 'Oh, for fuck’s sake! I know it’s a long shot, but if Fisher played any part in abducting the boy, and I do fuck all for a couple of days, it’s not going to look too good, is it? That’s a rhetorical question by the way, the mother’s in one hell of a state.’
Simpson sighed. ‘All right, point taken, but we’re not going to agree on this one. Look, how about we talk to the chief super in the morning? He’s always in by about half eight. He can make the decision, privilege of rank and all that. It’s what he’s paid for after all.’
‘I’ve got a fucking briefing arranged for five in the morning. I was planning on giving our Mr Fisher an early morning wake-up call straight after that.’
‘I’m afraid it’s going to have to wait, tempting as it is. Let’s see what the super thinks and take it from there. Is that all right with you?’
Gravel sighed. ‘I suppose it’s going to have to be. You owe me a fucking pint.’
Simpson chuckled to himself. ‘Your language hasn’t got any better over the years. Didn’t your mother ever wash your mouth out with soap and water?’
‘Fuck off, Trevor. I’ll see you in the morning.’
Gravel slammed the phone down and kicked his wastepaper bin across the room with such force that it crashed into the opposite wall almost six feet from the floor. He sat back in his chair, sighed despondently, and picked up a pile of papers from his desk, full of good intentions. But he put them back in the in-tray almost immediately. He needed a shower. He needed sleep. The papers could wait.
He stood up to head for home, but then decided to make one last call before leaving. The hospital switchboard answered after a surprisingly short wait and a chirpy female voice said, ‘Hello, South Wales General.’
‘Evening, intensive care please.’ This time the phone rang and rang before finally being answered, ‘Staff speaking?’
‘Good evening, this is Detective Inspector Gravel, local police. You’ve got one of my uniform officers there somewhere. Can I speak to her, please?’
‘The last time I saw her she was in the dayroom. Shall I ask her to give you a ring?’
‘I’ll hold on, ta.’
After approximately five minutes he heard Williams’ familiar voice saying, ‘Hello, sir.’
‘Hi, Bethan, any news for me?’
‘It’s good news I suppose, sir. I was about to ring you. Mrs Mailer came around very briefly about fifteen minutes ago. The doctors seem more optimistic than they were earlier, but what with the drugs and her injuries she was drifting in and out of consciousness.’
‘Did you get the chance to talk to her?’
‘Very briefly, before the sister stopped me. It wasn’t easy to understand her, but I think she may have asked about Anthony. To be honest I couldn’t bring myself to tell her the truth. She’s got enough to deal with at the moment.’
‘She’s going to have to know at some point, Constable, but I guess it can wait for the moment. Did she say anything useful?’
He’d used her rank rather than her name. He wasn’t happy. It was a no-win situation. ‘There is something else, sir, but it doesn’t make a lot of sense.’
‘Spit it out, Bethan. It’s been a long day.’
‘Mrs Mailer wasn’t making a lot of sense. I don’t know if it’s even worth telling you this, but here goes. Her words were garbled and disjointed, but she seemed to be trying to tell me that she woke up for a fraction of a second just before the attack. She thinks she looked directly into her attacker’s face before passing out.’
The inspector’s heart was racing. ‘Could she describe him?’
‘This is where things get strange. She appeared to repeat the same name several times before drifting back into unconsciousness. I think she must have been confused or dreaming.’
‘For fuck’s sake, Bethan! What was the name?’
‘Dr David Galbraith. You know, sir, it’s a Scottish name.’
‘Yes, I do know that. I’m not a complete ignoramus despite the rumours.’
‘Sorry, I didn’t mean to imply…’
‘I’d stop digging if I were you, Constable. Right, you stay where you are tonight. I’ll send someone over to relieve you in the morning, so you can get a bite to eat and a change of clothes before going back. If Mrs Mailer says anything else, anything at all, ring me at home whatever the time is. Have you got my number?’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘Keep what Mrs Mailer said to yourself for now. It may not be as crazy as it sounds.’
36
‘Good morning to you all! Nice to see that everyone’s on time, even if most of you do look like shit.’ Gravel waited for a response, but it was limited to a few half-hearted groans. It was too early in the morning for banter, however well-intentioned and senior the source.
The inspector smiled nonetheless, and continued. ‘You will no doubt be pleased to hear that there’s been a number of potentially positive developments in the case. That said, Anthony Mailer is still missing. Finding him, hopefully finding him alive, remains our first priority. This is very important work, people. A child’s life is at stake. We haven’t got time to piss about, so listen carefully. You all need to be crystal clear what your duties are.’
The DI pointed to a map of the area he’d prepared in advance of the meeting. He tapped his forefinger repeatedly on a large black X marked close to the centre of the map in bold felt pen. ‘This is the exact location of the Mailers’ cottage. The crime scene, if you like.’ He tapped the map again. ‘This first circle, the red one, indicates the area we searched yesterday. I’m sure that you're all very well aware that nothing of significance was found. That makes it all the more important that we search again today. We will keep looking until we find something. This work is not glamorous or exciting, but it is essential. We are going through a well-established, methodical process that gets results. Remember that.’
He turned his attention back to the map on the wall behind him. ‘This bigger circle, the blue one, marks the boundary of the additional area that those of you allocated the task will search today. To be clear, we are going to se
arch the area we searched yesterday again, and then extend the search to the area within the blue line. Familiarise yourselves with the map before you leave. Sergeant Thomas here will be responsible for supervising the search officers on the ground. If we don’t find anything today, we will do the same thing again tomorrow and the day after that, and the day after that until we do. You will be glad to know that I have arranged transport for you lucky people.’ He grinned in response to the sarcastic cheer and waited impatiently for the search officers to peruse the map and leave. The process was taking too long, however, and he gestured to the uniformed sergeant.
‘Yes, sir?’
‘Take that fucking map, Sergeant, and piss off somewhere else to look at it. I need to get on.’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘Right, you lot will be making further house-to-house enquiries. DS Rankin will give you your specific orders once I’ve concluded the briefing. Young PC Harris obtained some useful evidence yesterday. Let’s hope we can do the same today. If a probationer can do it, anyone can.’ He paused for the inevitable laughter. ‘Clive, if you do what needs to be done here, I’ll speak to you later in the day. Remember everybody, if you discover anything potentially significant, anything at all, report it to DS Rankin who will in turn talk to me. Right, that’s me done. Any questions? No? Then piss off and find Anthony Mailer.’
Rankin looked at him with a perplexed look on his face. ‘Can I speak to you in private, boss?’
Gravel nodded. ‘Let’s go to my office. The rest of you get yourselves a quick coffee in the canteen. It’s going to be a long day.’
‘Don’t bother sitting down, Clive. We need to make a move soon.’
‘What about Fisher? I’ve sorted the warrant.’
As the DI outlined the previous evening’s events, Rankin shook his head incredulously. He’d been in the job long enough to know that investigations could change directions quickly, but this seemed to be a case of one investigation getting in the way of another with potentially serious consequences. ‘I know it’s a long shot, Grav, but what if Fisher’s got the boy? If we delay and it goes pear-shaped, where the hell does that leave us?’