by Salkeld, J J
The room was crowded, because the back-shift were just in and the day shift were all still there, and Hall took updates from everyone. Charlie Coward and Jane had come up with a handful of potential eye-witnesses already, and the provisional PM results were already in.
‘It wasn’t natural causes’ said Hall dryly, holding up the report. ‘A knotted ligature, and it broke his neck. No defence wounds, and we’re already pretty sure that the killer came up behind our victim. And we know it’s a man already. SOCO should be able to give us an idea of his weight and an estimate of height tomorrow, based on the casts of his footprints. And I assume that everyone knows that our victim, Royal, was actually anything but. His real name was Neil Williams, and he was the star witness in the Tom Cafferty double murder trial last year, and was due to take the stand in the re-trial later this week. If you want any background on the Caffertys just read the press reports, but they’re what the tabloids like to call a crime dynasty, and for once the comics are not exaggerating. They’ve controlled organised crime in Liverpool for over forty years now, and even the IRA kept clear of them back in the day. Tom’s the youngest of the clan, and his older brother badly wants him out of prison.’
‘So we’ll be talking to the brother?’ asked Charlie Coward.
‘Yes. I’ll do it, with a Merseyside DI acting as interpreter. We’ll get nothing obviously, but I’ll let him know that despite the fact that no-one will miss Williams we’ll treat this case as if he was one of our own. And I don’t have to tell any of you why that is, do I? A brother officer is being interviewed at this very moment, and unless we find our killer, and the person or persons who discovered Royal’s real identity, then Ian Mann may not be the last of us to come under suspicion. So how about CCTV, Ray? Anything helpful for us so far?’
‘There’s masses of it of course, so I’m still trying to get it all together. Do you want me to look at the ANPR data from all the cameras around town, see what registrations came in during the hour before or something? That might help us short-circuit it a bit. Talk about a surveillance society, but I’ve got more footage than you could shake a shitty stick at, boss.’
‘Thank you, Ray, and yes, try the ANPR files in the morning. I’m sure Jane will help you automate it somehow. Look for any vehicles owned by people with convictions for violence, and for any stolen vehicles. My guess is that our killer is far too experienced to use a vehicle that could be traced back to him, but you never know. So if you get any hire cars look and see if they were collected in Merseyside. And everyone from the day shift, do your hand-overs and get off home in the next hour. I need everyone to be totally fresh in the morning.’
Wednesday, 24th April
It took Ian Mann a few seconds to work out where he was, and he knew from recent experience that his head was going to hurt like hell when he turned his head to look at the digital alarm clock. So he decided not to bother. The alarm had been switched off since he’d been suspended, and he really had nothing to get up for anyway.
Instead he lay very still and thought back over the events of the previous night. Julie had wanted to come over after Val ‘Gory’ Gorham and Robinson had finished interviewing him, but he’d knocked her back, and he was glad he had. He had been in no mood to see anyone, and he still wasn’t. But all that whisky when he got home had definitely been a bad idea.
‘You’re aware that Trevor Royal, real name Neil Williams, is dead’ Gory Gorham had said, when the tape had been switched on. Mann knew the lawyer that the Federation had hired and who was sitting alongside him, a man called Jenkins. Mann had always found him an awkward bastard when he’d been sitting on the other side of the table. So Jenkins was perfect for the job.
‘Yes, I know he’s dead.’
‘How did you find out?’
‘One of the lads told me when I was brought in.’
‘Which lad?’
‘One of them. I know he’s dead, OK?’
‘And you knew both his original and his new identity?’
‘You know I did. I’ve been dealing with his various demands since we first had him dumped on us, or at least I was until I was suspended.’
‘His demands? Not his requests. You didn’t like him much then?’
‘I didn’t have to like him. Look, I appreciate that his death undermines the Cafferty re-trial, and that’s a shame, because he’s a vicious little bastard who deserves to be inside for life. But Williams wasn’t much better. He was just as nasty as the Caffertys, just look at his form, and to make it worse he wasn’t even a loyal soldier.’
‘And that makes you angry, does it Mr. Mann? The lack of loyalty?’ Gorham emphasised the ‘Mr.’, but Mann was all too well aware that his Warrant Card was locked up in Robinson’s safe.
‘I don’t expect you to understand, because your idea of front-line policing is writing a presentation and then delivering it from the front of a room, but yes, loyalty does matter. It matters to us, and it matters to them too.’
‘So you’re saying that the Police Service has something in common with organised crime?’
Gorham was doing her best to look surprised. Perhaps she’d been practising in front of a mirror.
Mann wasn’t going to get drawn into that debate. He didn’t want to look like any more like a dinosaur than he had to, because he knew that all the little rat-faced Gorhams had already scuttled out of their burrows and taken over the world.
‘I’m saying that Williams was a little shit who enjoyed having me at his beck and call, that’s all. He was well aware of the irony of the situation, let’s put it that way.’
‘So, just for the record, who have you discussed Williams and his identity with?’
‘Superintendent Robinson, Inspector Hall and Inspector Sheridan from Merseyside.’
‘No one else at work?’
‘No.’
‘Outside work then?’
‘No.’
‘So you’re saying that you have no knowledge as to how Williams’ identity came to be known.’
‘That’s right.’
‘So, Mr. Mann, if it wasn’t you who told whoever was responsible for his death who Williams was, then who was it?’
‘I don’t know. It could be anyone. Maybe he was recognised, maybe there’s a leak somewhere. There must be lots of people who knew who he was. But the information didn’t come from me.’
‘So you won’t mind if we check your phone and email records?’
‘Of course not.’
‘How about a search of your house?’
Mann pulled the keys out of his pocket. ‘By all means have a flick round with a duster while you’re there’ he said, looking straight at Gorham. For the first time Mann thought he could see a flicker of genuine emotion on her face.
‘Stay here’ she said. ‘This will take some time.’
‘Oh I’d like to be there, along with my Mr. Jenkins here, and I expect the search to be videoed. If you’re not able to provide that service then I’m sure that Mr. Jenkins can arrange it.’
‘There’s no need for all that palaver, Ian’ said Superintendent Robinson. ‘You can trust us, surely?’
Ian Mann had laughed in his face.
They’d already taken his computer, and his colleagues looked more than a little uncomfortable to be searching a mate’s house. He’d seen Robinson talking to a couple of officers that he knew outside the house, and they didn’t look happy at all. So he‘d tried to make the odd joke while his house was being searched, to show there were no hard feelings. But no-one was laughing. It reminded him of the time he’d been involved in searching a house after a baby had died there in suspicious circumstances. They all knew that the parents were mad with grief, and had nothing to do with their child’s death, and it still made him feel sick to think about it. Searching his place was nothing in comparison, and in any case he’d done absolutely nothing wrong.
He needed a glass of water, probably more than one, and a pain killer, more than one of those too, but still he
didn’t move his head. Instead he thought about a time in his life that he almost never dwelt on, the weeks and months after his mum had died. It had been so sudden. One day she was at home putting the washing out on a windy day, the next she was in hospital, the day after she was dead. And Ian Mann had gone from being an outgoing ten year old boy into a shy introvert overnight.
His dad had done his best, for him and his older brothers, but he’d changed too. It was only much later that Mann realised that his dad had started drinking after his mum had died, and it had taken him years more to stop. He didn’t look up to many people, but he loved and respected his dad, and wondered how he’d managed to do it. His own drinking hadn’t bothered him until he’d been picked up the previous afternoon, and he realised that he was half-cut at five. That had been a first, surely? If Robinson and Gorham noticed they didn’t say anything, and he’d sobered up pretty fast when he found out what had happened to Williams.
He lay, quite still, for another couple of minutes, and then swung his legs over the side of his bed, doing his best to keep his head still and level. Then he got up, very slowly, and when the pain passed he wondered if he should maybe have a chat with his dad.
The incident room was packed when Hall walked in, and he wasn’t remotely surprised to see Gorham and Robinson standing close together, looking like two lovebirds in uniform. Hall had been in since five and now, at just after eight-thirty, he knew exactly where they’d got to with the investigation. But it was important to make sure that everyone else was brought up to speed, and quickly.
‘Ray and Jane, let’s start with you and the CCTV. I think you’ve got something for us.’
‘That’s right, boss’ said Ray, ‘your idea about stolen cars came up trumps. The ANPR got us this one, stolen the day before yesterday in central Liverpool. They didn’t even bother to swap the plates. Jane’s already found it on the CCTV too.’
‘Here it is, boss’ said Jane, playing a couple of clips of video showing a BMW X5. ‘We’re seeing what we can do, but it doesn’t look like we’ll get anything of the driver’s face, even when it’s enhanced. And what’s the betting he was wearing a baseball cap anyway? But the car looks promising because it arrived just over an hour before Williams died, and we’ve got it on ANPR leaving town, going towards the M6, only about ten or fifteen minutes after.’
‘That’s great, both of you, so he must have parked nearby then, if this car was carrying the killer, because otherwise he couldn’t have got away so quickly. Any thoughts where?’
‘What about one of the streets north of Gooseholme, or maybe on the eastern side?’ suggested Charlie Coward. ‘That would tie in with the times too. He’d only have a couple of minutes walk back to the car.’
‘OK, Charlie, can I leave it with you to start the house-to-house? And can you also get a couple of our people back on Gooseholme later on today, to try to pick a few more eye-witnesses from yesterday? Talking of which, how many have we got so far who think that they saw Williams on Gooseholme?’
‘Six, boss’ said Jane, ‘and we’ve collated all their statements. They all saw Williams all right, and describe him with varying degrees of accuracy. Two even saw him on the bench, alive, but none of them saw our killer anywhere near Williams. So he must have been confident, and quick.’
‘Agreed’ said Hall. ‘Our killer is a pro, and he was in a hurry. And we probably know why too, because Williams’ call to me tells us that he’d worked out that he’d been spotted or grassed up or whatever. He probably wanted our help to drop out of sight completely. So did our killer follow Williams, maybe? Or had he even tried to get the job done earlier yesterday, maybe at Williams’ house on Burneside Road? He would just about have had time.’
A few heads nodded.
‘Tonto, until we find the car or come up with some other lead can you focus on Williams’ house and its surroundings? Let’s try to find anything that suggests the killer was there.
Are you checking the garden, and anywhere that our man might have kept watch on Williams from?’
‘Not sure. But I’ll make sure we do.’
‘Shall we do door-to-door near Williams’ place too then?’ asked Charlie Coward.
‘Yes, but have you got the bodies to cover that and the house-to-house down near Gooseholme? That sounds like a stretch to me.’
‘If I split our Specials up and get them knocking on doors as well then yes, we can do it.’
Hall thought about it for a moment. He resisted the urge to look across at Robinson for approval.
‘OK, but get one of your regular lads or lasses to show them how to do it first, then watch them interview the next one, and make sure that all the Specials have to do is flag up anyone who might have something for us. We need to be sure that they won’t miss anything. OK?’ Coward nodded. ‘Right then’ Hall went on, ‘how about Williams’ phone, email and suchlike? Are we getting anything interesting from them?’
‘Nothing from yesterday or the day before’ said Mike Baker, one of the older lads from the technical section. Hall thought he might be twenty-five, tops.
‘Keep with it, Mike, and let’s chat together later. Maybe Williams spotted the person who killed him just before he called me, or maybe someone warned him somehow. So you’re not just helping shut the stable door here; you might lead us to the killer.’
Then one of Doctor Beech’s team updated them on the PM results. Williams hadn’t had a chance to put up any kind of a struggle, and death had been almost instantaneous. It was impossible to say exactly what kind of ligature it had been. There was no relevant DNA evidence.
‘OK, everyone’ said Hall, ‘so our killer was a pro, and he won’t make it easy for us. We already knew that much. But we’ve got a really solid lead here already, so let’s follow up on that stolen X5, and use that as a way to find our man. Where was it yesterday, who got out of it? Let’s find out today. I’ll ask Merseyside to start looking at the who, where, what and when it was nicked. And let’s ask ourselves this as well: how did Williams know he was in danger? Did he see something? If so, did anyone else see it too? Let’s find out exactly where he was yesterday, from the time he got up until he fell asleep on that bench for good and all.’
A few people started to get up from their improvised seats on desks, but Hall held up his hand. ‘Just one other thing before you go. Now I know that Williams was a nasty little shit, and the world is none the poorer for his passing, but that doesn’t mean that his killing isn’t important to us, and I mean especially to us here in this station. Because we’ve got a friend and colleague who’s under investigation in connection with this offence, and the best thing that we can all do to help Ian right now is to find out who did this, who they did it for, and how they really found out about Williams. I won’t rest until we exonerate our friend, and I know that you’re all with me on that. So that means finding out who did this, and who helped them, as quickly as we possibly can.’ There was a ripple of applause, a couple of hear-hears, and a few glances across shot at Robinson. He seemed to have gone a little red, but it was getting very warm with all those people in the office.
It was turning into a really warm day, not just for April but for any day in a Lake District summer. And Terry Walker was determined to make the most of it. He decided to walk in to Kendal from his estate on the western edge of town, and get a cab back. He’d be carrying quite a lot of beer after all. On his way he texted a couple of mates, and invited them round for a barbecue, so long as they bought the grub. One of them did a bit of poaching, so venison steaks would be on the menu for sure.
He was still in a good mood as he paid the cabbie, even if the fare had gone up 50p overnight, but as soon as he caught sight of Eleanor Barrow pushing that oversized push-chair with her daughter Gemma in it the good feeling evaporated. Eleanor was opening her front gate with one hand, and Terry made no attempt to help. He had his beer to carry.
By noon Terry had a headache. His skin was feeling dry and tight from the sun and the ba
rbecue had taken ages to get going, so he and the lads, Barry and Trev, had already drunk half a case of beers between them. He was starting to feel irritable. But at least the sun was still shining, and they had a kick about in the garden while they waited for the barbie to get properly hot. Kylie stood at the kitchen window and looked out at them, frowning. Experience had taught her that if Terry was drunk and laughing at noon he’d be getting really nasty well before five. And that always made for a long, tense evening.
She didn’t have to wait very long for it all to kick off. Later, when the two coppers asked her what had happened she said she didn’t know, and for once that was the truth. She knew the older one, PC Styles, known to everyone as Nobby, but the other one was a woman hobby-bobby who she’d never seen before. She’d sat with Kylie in the sitting room while Nobby tried to calm things down in the garden, and Kylie could tell that the woman was shocked at the state of the place. ‘Terry’s a bit untidy’ she found herself saying, ‘sorry.’
Gill McGrath tried not to look around her too much, and smiled back. But the shouting from outside was getting louder, and Gill wasn’t sure what to do. Nobby had told her to stay inside, but now she was getting worried. And when she got up and walked out, through the dingy kitchen and out into the bright sunshine, she was glad she had. Nobby was standing with his back to her, and three men were facing him, pointing at him, and then across towards the next house. They looked very angry, and very drunk too. The swearing didn’t bother her, she said worse if she dropped a plate, but she was shocked by how close they were to Nobby, and how threatening they seemed.
‘So can’t a few blokes enjoy a quiet drink in their own garden now, Nobby?’ one of them shouted, even though he was only a foot from Nobby’s face. ‘That fucking bitch must have had you lot round here twenty times in the last year, and what have you done about it? Fuck all, that’s what, because I ain’t done nowt.’