Taken to Die: A chilling crime thriller (DCI Danny Flint Book 4)

by Trevor Negus

  ‘Have you heard of Emily Whitchurch?’

  ‘Of course I have. I saw the press appeal on the television.’

  ‘So you’re aware who her parents are?’

  ‘You know I am. I can see that you’ve already clocked the pictures on the pinboard, Detective.’

  Danny walked over to the board. He could see the two gaps where the photographs had been hastily removed. ‘There appears to be a couple of photos missing. Does that account for the smell of burning?’

  ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’

  ‘You’re going to need to accompany me to the police station so I can question you fully.’

  ‘Are you arresting me?’

  ‘Do I need to arrest you? If you’re the reformed character you say you are, and you’ve got nothing to hide, surely you’d want to come with us voluntarily and assist with our enquiries. What’s it to be?’

  ‘Chief Inspector, you’ve obviously done your homework on me, or you wouldn’t be here. You must know I don’t trust the police.’

  ‘If you attend voluntarily, you’ll be afforded the same rights as if you were under arrest. It’s the new law.’

  Jamieson was thoughtful, weighing up his options. He said, ‘I know all about the Police and Criminal Evidence Act, Detective. I do want to help you. This is a young girl we’re talking about, after all. I’ll come with you voluntarily. There’s no need for any handcuffs. I don’t mind assisting you with your enquiries, but I’m not going anywhere until you’ve finished searching my flat. It’s that trust issue again. I don’t want to hear later that you’ve suddenly found the Whitchurch girl’s clothes here. Can you understand that?’

  ‘Your fears are unfounded, but I can understand them. The search won’t take long; then we’ll go to Central Police Station and have a conversation.’

  ‘Will you bring me back here afterwards?’

  ‘I’m sure that can be arranged, as and when it becomes necessary.’

  ‘Well, then, just do what you’ve got to do, and let’s get this over with. I thought I’d seen the last of the police.’

  67

  7.00pm, 16 October 1986

  Central Police Station, Nottingham

  Danny sat in the CID office at Central Police Station. He and Detective Sergeant Andy Wills were reviewing the items found during the search of Sam Jamieson’s small flat.

  Danny said, ‘Who’s sitting with Jamieson?’

  Andy replied, ‘Simon Paine’s with him in the interview room. I’ve told the other three to get a cuppa and get warmed up in the canteen.’

  ‘Has Jamieson been offered any refreshments while he’s waiting?’

  ‘He’s been offered a drink but declined. He just wants to know how long this is going to take.’

  As Danny looked at the items spread out over the desk in front of him, he said, ‘So there’s no paperwork for any separate rental premises anywhere, and nothing whatsoever to connect him with Emily Whitchurch?’

  ‘No. This is all we have that’s of any interest. We’ve got the pinboard that’s covered in pictures and articles about Rebecca and Dominic Whitchurch, Mulberry Chambers, and the property on Richmond Drive. Street plans of Mapperley Park and the lime green running shoes very like those used by the serial jogger that was mentioned in the Special Operations Unit observation logs for the Whitchurch property.’

  ‘It’s not a lot, is it? I’m glad I didn’t arrest him on this evidence. Flimsy doesn’t really describe it, but it’s bloody close.’

  ‘Don’t forget the threatening letter he sent to Rebecca Whitchurch at Mulberry Chambers.’

  ‘You mean the letter we don’t have and have never gotten sight of?’

  Andy nodded. ‘Jamieson doesn’t know we haven’t got the letter.’

  ‘That’s very true. We’ll leave that until last. I want to see his reaction when we start talking about the threats he made.’

  ‘I know it’s not much to go on. Your hand was forced a little because we needed to get in that flat; the girl could have been hidden in there. If nothing else, we can at least finalise this line of enquiry.’

  ‘I’m not criticising you, Andy. It was good work to find the connection in the first place, and even better work to track Jamieson down to an address. Grab all this stuff, and let’s go and hear what he’s got to say, shall we?’

  68

  7.00pm, 16 October 1986

  Hilton Manchester, Deansgate, Manchester

  Rob Buxton and Glen Lorimar approached the reception desk in the luxurious foyer of the Hilton Hotel, in the centre of Manchester. Sebastien Dawson had provided them with details of the reservations, made by Mulberry Chambers, for Freddie Fletcher’s stay in the north west city.

  The two detectives had waited for the reception area to be empty. Now, there was just the young woman working behind the desk and no guests waiting to be seen. It was the right time to speak to the receptionist.

  As they approached, the young woman looked up. She beamed a laser smile in their direction and asked, ‘Good evening, gentlemen. How can I help you?’

  Rob Buxton produced the small leather wallet that held his warrant card from his jacket pocket. He opened it and discreetly showed it to the receptionist. ‘My name’s Detective Inspector Rob Buxton from the Nottinghamshire Police. I understand that you have a guest staying with you all this week by the name of Mr Frederick Fletcher. I think the booking was made by Mulberry Chambers in Nottingham. It’s very important that we speak privately with Mr Fletcher immediately.’

  The smile dropped instantly from the face of the young woman, and her brow frowned with concern. ‘Oh, I hope it isn’t bad news. Mr Fletcher’s such a bubbly, fun person. Just a minute, please.’

  The receptionist flicked through one of the books on the huge walnut surface of the desk. Eventually, she stopped and quickly ran her manicured fingernail down the page.

  When the finger stopped, she exclaimed, ‘Here he is. Mr Fletcher booked his evening meal for six thirty tonight in our award-winning Leander’s Restaurant. He’ll be eating in there right now.’

  ‘I’m sorry. I know it’s an imposition, but this is very important. Would it be possible for you to let Mr Fletcher know we’re here and that we need to speak to him as a matter of urgency? Thank you.’

  She nodded and reached for the telephone on the desk. Before she could dial, Rob said, ‘I’m sorry. Is there somewhere we could talk privately with Mr Fletcher?’

  ‘Yes, of course. The conference room across the foyer isn’t being used. I’ll contact the maître d’ at the restaurant and then unlock the conference room for you.’

  Rob smiled. ‘That’s great. Thanks for all your help.’

  After making the call, the receptionist walked with the two detectives across the spacious foyer to the conference room. She unlocked the door and stepped inside. After flicking on the lights, she said, ‘Can I get you any refreshments? Perhaps a tea or coffee?’

  Rob replied, ‘No, thanks. This room is great. Thank you.’

  She smiled the same laser-beam smile, all white teeth and red lipstick. ‘Okay, gentlemen. If you need anything else, I’ll be at the desk.’

  ‘Thank you; you’ve been very helpful.’

  The conference room was quite small. It had one large table down the centre of the room. The table was made from a very light oak. It was surrounded by fourteen blue leather office chairs. In front of each chair there was a blue, leather-bound blotter and individual water carafes and glasses.

  Glen Lorimar looked around the room and let out a low whistle. ‘Very nice. We need one of these for our briefing room.’

  Before Rob could respond, there was a tap on the door. It was immediately opened by the receptionist, who stepped inside, followed by the slim, blonde-haired Freddie Fletcher. The receptionist announced, ‘Mr Fletcher, these are the two gentlemen from the police.’

  Rob said, ‘Thank you, miss.’

  The receptionist understood Rob’s tone and immediat
ely left the room, closing the door behind her.

  Fletcher said, ‘Firstly, I’ll need to see some identification. Secondly, what the hell is this all about?’

  There was clearly a note of irritation in the young barrister’s voice. Not quite anger, but getting close.

  The two detectives showed Fletcher their individual warrant cards, which he inspected closely.

  Rob said, ‘Shall we sit down?’

  Fletcher pulled out the nearest chair and sat. ‘Is this going to take long, Detectives? I was literally about to start my main course. A beautiful rack of lamb.’

  Rob and Glen sat down opposite Fletcher.

  Rob said, ‘I apologise for the inconvenience, Mr Fletcher, but this needed to be cleared up tonight.’

  ‘Please call me Freddie. You still haven’t told me what is so bloody urgent that you’ve driven up here from Nottingham to see me tonight.’

  Rob said, ‘We’re investigating the disappearance of Emily Whitchurch. Your colleague’s daughter.’

  ‘I see. What has that got to do with me, exactly?’

  ‘How do you get on with Rebecca Whitchurch?’

  ‘Like every other young barrister at Mulberry Chambers, I don’t get on with her at all. Rebecca Whitchurch is one of the most arrogant, condescending cows ever to walk this earth. You described us as “colleagues”, but nothing could be further from the truth. Every barrister is a rival. Don’t be fooled by all this “my learned friend” bollocks you hear in court; that’s just tradition. Basically, we’re all mercenaries. Our futures rely on the quality of briefs we’re given. Without good-quality briefs, a career will soon flounder, as you have no way of building a reputation. The problem with Mulberry Chambers is that Dominic and Rebecca Whitchurch cherry-pick the best briefs all the time. I’m afraid it’s notorious for it. Our clerk, Sebastien Dawson, sees to it that they’re always given first refusal on all quality briefs.’

  ‘So how come you’re here leading the defence for this trial?’

  ‘Oh, come on, Inspector; don’t play games. You’re probably already well aware that I was only asked to lead this trial because Rebecca cried off.’

  ‘And the reason she cried off?’

  ‘Because her precious daughter is missing. Again, this is information you already know.’

  ‘It’s obvious there’s no love lost between you and Mrs Whitchurch?’

  ‘And as I’ve just told you, that doesn’t make me unique. If you’re asking me did I have any involvement in the disappearance of her child? Of course I didn’t. What do you take me for?’

  The young barrister then switched into inquisitor mode. ‘Exactly why have you come to see me? What have you been told? And by whom?’

  Before Rob could speak, Fletcher exclaimed, ‘Fliss! This has got to have come from young Felicity, hasn’t it?’

  Rob said, ‘What makes you say that?’

  ‘I took her out to celebrate getting this trial. Spent a bloody fortune on champagne, trying to get in her knickers, and failed miserably. I can remember, after the second or third bottle of bubbly, I proposed some ridiculous toast about the missing Whitchurch girl.’

  ‘Why would you do that?’

  ‘Because I was pissed and showing off. It was crass and in very poor taste, but that’s all it was. I could never harm a child.’

  ‘What were you doing on the evening of the second of October? Exactly two weeks ago tonight?’

  ‘That’s easy. I was playing cards. I’m a member of the Nottingham Bridge Club. We meet every Thursday evening at a different player’s house. It’s something I got into at Cambridge. I never miss a session unless, like tonight, I’m away on business. Two weeks ago, the meeting was at Virginia Drew’s house. Generally, we all arrive at four o’clock for prematch drinks. The first hand is dealt at five. We play until eight o’clock. I do recall that I arrived early that afternoon, at three o’clock. Ms Drew lives alone, and she’d asked me to help her set all the tables and chairs up.’

  ‘How many players were there?’

  ‘Three tables, so a dozen.’

  ‘Do you have their names?’

  ‘There were a couple of new faces that night. I’m sure Ms Drew will still have the list.’

  Glen asked, ‘Where does Virginia Drew live?’

  ‘She has the most stunning house at Fiskerton. It’s right next to the river and is absolutely beautiful in the summer.’

  He chuckled and said, ‘She’s seventy-five next year, bless her. I’m seriously thinking of proposing marriage just so I can get my grubby little paws on her wonderful house when she pops her clogs! Will that be all, gentlemen? That delicious rack of lamb will be getting cold.’

  Rob looked at Glen, who shook his head; he had nothing else to ask Fletcher.

  Rob said, ‘Note down Virginia’s full name and address so we can check out your story, please, Mr Fletcher. Then that will be all, and thank you for your cooperation this evening.’

  Fletcher tore a piece of paper from one of the blotters. He took a pen from his jacket pocket and scribbled down the name and address of Virginia Drew.

  He stood up, handed the scrap of paper to Rob and said, ‘Seriously, gentlemen, I hope you find the girl soon. Good night.’

  Fletcher closed the door behind him, leaving the two detectives sitting in the conference room.

  Rob said, ‘What do you think?’

  ‘I think this will all check out. He’s just one of those people who has no filter. Did you hear the comment about marrying the old lady to get her house? He thinks he’s being hilarious, but he just comes over as being a charmless twat.’

  ‘Succinctly summarised as always, mate.’

  Glen just shrugged.

  Rob said, ‘We’ll drive back tonight and check out his alibi tomorrow. I don’t think this enquiry is taking us anywhere.’

  Glen nodded. ‘Looks that way.’

  As the two detectives left the conference room, Rob said, ‘I’ll just find a phone and let the boss know that this is probably another dead end.’

  69

  7.30pm, 16 October 1986

  Central Police Station, Nottingham

  Danny Flint and Andy Wills walked into the small interview room.

  Andy placed the items recovered from the search of the flat on the floor. Danny turned to DC Paine and said, ‘Go and grab a cuppa, Simon.’

  Simon Paine left the room. Danny and Andy sat down opposite Sam Jamieson.

  The only furniture in the small room was a desk and four chairs.

  The room was lit by a single fluorescent strip light that was housed behind a wire grille on the ceiling. There was a red plastic strip on the wall around the entire room that was an alarm. If it were pressed by the interviewing officers, other police would rush to render assistance.

  Sam Jamieson looked calm and at ease with the situation. He was sitting back on his chair, his arms folded loosely across his chest. He had glanced at the items carried into the room, but his face registered no emotion about them.

  Danny leaned forward on his chair and rested his elbows on the desk. ‘Thanks for being patient, Mr Jamieson. Would you like a drink of water or a cup of tea?’

  ‘I’m fine. I just want to crack on so I can go home. I want to help you, but I don’t want to be here all night, either.’

  ‘Before we talk, I have to tell you that you’re not under arrest and that you’re technically free to leave whenever you wish. If at any time you feel you want legal representation while we ask you questions, tell me, and a solicitor will be provided for you. Are you happy for us to continue?’

  ‘I understand the new provisions of the Police and Criminal Evidence legislation. The Codes of Practice under that Act was just one of the many books I studied during my degree course. Yes, I’m happy. So, let’s get on, shall we?’

  ‘I want to go back to the beginning. Tell me why you were sent to prison for seven years.’

  ‘I was wrongly accused and wrongly convicted of being the getawa
y driver during an armed robbery of a post office at Mansfield Woodhouse. This is all well documented.’

  ‘I’ve read the court file. I just wanted to hear your version.’

  ‘It’s funny how nobody was interested in my version back then, Chief Inspector. If they had been, there’s every likelihood we wouldn’t be sitting here having this conversation.’

  ‘Why do you say that?’

  ‘If you’ve read the court file, you already know the answer to that question. I was a convenience, a patsy, a stooge, whatever you want to call it. I’d driven that bloody car the evening before the robbery. I was nowhere near the post office when the robbery took place. I was at home with my sick daughter.’

  Andy said, ‘Could anybody corroborate that?’

  ‘No, my wife was out all day. My daughter had a high temperature and was delirious with a fever.’

  ‘What about the forensic evidence that linked you to the robbery?’

  ‘Sergeant, your question is flawed. The forensic evidence was a single thumbprint found on the rear-view mirror of the car. It linked me to the car, not the robbery. None of the eyewitnesses at the robbery identified me.’

  ‘There were two other men on trial for the robbery, one of them your own cousin. Why didn’t they speak up for you? Especially your own cousin?’

  ‘I can’t speak for our Dave. I don’t know why he didn’t say anything. The last time I spoke to him was to ask if I could use his car the night before the robbery. I still can’t believe that my own cousin let me go to prison, knowing I wasn’t involved.’

  Danny said, ‘So you still maintain your innocence?’

  ‘Yes. And there’s a simple reason for that, Chief Inspector. I was innocent then, so consequently, I’m still innocent now. Being sent down and incarcerated within those bloody walls cost me everything I ever held dear.’