by Mari Hannah
He cleared his throat. ‘DCI Atkins has made it clear that I’m his gofer and that’s all I’m good for. I may be young in service by comparison, but I know my stuff. I’m not used to being undermined. I’m beginning to think I made a big mistake coming here. If you don’t mind me saying so, the man’s a moron.’
‘You can say that again,’ Hank interrupted, throwing caution to the wind.
Grant hesitated. ‘Sorry, I didn’t realize you had company.’ It was Kate’s turn to be cagey. She wondered if he was on the level or if Atkins had sent him on a fishing trip to elicit behaviour unbecoming of a fellow officer. If so, it wouldn’t work. She wasn’t about to slag him off on the phone and land herself with a blue form – a complaint she’d never be able to defend to Professional Standards if her words were being recorded.
Hank was unwise to have done so.
‘Don’t worry about it,’ she said. ‘You’re among friends. Your opinions on DCI Atkins will go no further. Outside of that, they do matter, to me, to Hank and the rest of MIT. For the record, you haven’t made a mistake in joining Northumbria, for yourself or your family. You know where I am if you need to chat.’
‘Thanks, I appreciate that.’
‘Was there anything else we should know about?’
‘Actually, there is.’
‘Go on.’ Kate made an impressed face to Hank.
‘I just got off the phone with the pathologist. The spliff you found at the scene didn’t belong to the victim. There’s zero evidence to support it. Given the beating he took prior to being moved to the gibbet, I was wondering if he might in fact have been disorientated, rather than pissed or high on drugs as his mother suggested.’
Grant had done well with the parents.
Kate liked his style. He was making a lot of sense. Her guts were telling her he could be trusted. He’d hit on something important and she commended him for it. ‘Excellent work, Colin. I’ll be sure to mention it to those that matter.’
‘Make of that what you will,’ Hank said.
It was a dig at Atkins.
Grant thanked them and Kate ended the call.
13
It was five by the time they arrived at the incident room. MIT detectives had already been fed, watered and primed for a long briefing. The room was charged with the expectation of a difficult road ahead and Kate felt the adrenalin rush that accompanied every new case. She took the floor, her aim to share intelligence both ways.
Calling for order, she scrolled through electronic notes she’d made throughout the day on her mobile phone, a reminder of the many topics up for discussion. As she lifted her head to speak, the device rang in her hand,Cole’s number flashing up on screen.
Apologizing, she turned away to take the call. ‘Stew, tell me you have good news.’
‘I do.’ He sounded chirpy. ‘Although I’d rather give it in person.’
‘I’m a bit busy right now.’
‘I can see that.’
Feeling a presence behind her, Kate swung round and came face-to-face with his deep-set eyes. Dressed in a flying suit sporting the logo of the Police Air Support Unit, he looked fit and tanned, as if he’d recently been on holiday. Travelling was his thing. As the former owner of a parachute training centre and CAA approved flying school, it had become a way of life for him. He’d flown around the world in the course of two careers: the Army Air Corps and, later, as a civil aviation pilot.
‘Your bike is with Forensics,’ he said.
‘Where did you find it?’
‘Fifty-four degrees north and—’
‘In layman’s terms, you pillock.’
Cole grinned, showing impeccable teeth. ‘Exactly where you said it would be: a mile north of Elsdon on the Alwinton road.’
Kate frowned. ‘I’ve driven that route twice today and didn’t notice it.’
‘You wouldn’t have. It was in a ditch, propped up behind a drystone wall, hidden from view – I suspect, to keep it safe. It’s a great bike. Perfect for taking advantage of the countryside around there. Anything else I can do for you?’ He was flirting.
Kate felt herself blushing. ‘What’s your gut feeling? Was it carefully placed or hidden in a hurry?’
‘It wasn’t thrown over the wall, if that’s what you mean.’ He pulled out his mobile and showed her a photograph. The bike was properly parked, handlebars straight, wheels too. Cole was watching her closely. ‘I can see the cogs turning.’
‘Hmm. I was just wondering if it had been there all night or put there this morning. Anyway, thanks for finding it.’ She glanced over his shoulder. The team were getting restless. ‘You want to sit in?’
‘Sure. Any excuse to watch you in action.’
‘Don’t get excited. This is nuts-and-bolts stuff.’
‘Nothing earth-shattering to report?’
‘I wish. Grab a coffee and take a seat.’ As Cole moved towards the vending machine, Kate called for order, giving her apologies for the delayed start. ‘We have a lot of ground to cover,’ she said, ‘so notebooks out. I have news.’
Conversations ended and the room hushed.
Kate waited for Cole to find a seat. ‘For those who don’t know Stew – that’s the man with a onesie on – he pilots India 99, the force helicopter. He spotted the victim’s bike from the air and that’s the best news we’ve had all day, so put your hands together and show your appreciation. Stop frowning, Hank. If you want to play Biggles, you need to learn how to fly.’
A giggle spread through the room, along with a round of applause. Hank and Cole were laughing along with the team. That pleased Kate no end. She was hell-bent on the two of them making friends. Cole held up his plastic coffee cup, a gesture of thanks for the acknowledgement of his minor contribution.
The noise died, allowing her to move on.
‘We need to ask ourselves why the bike was placed over a wall and concealed from view. It could be that Elliott was going somewhere, other than Elsdon, or was meeting someone near the dump site and didn’t need it any more.’ She scanned the room. ‘Spit ’em out if you have any thoughts on this.’
Brown held a pen in the air. ‘It could have been a simple theft. Someone half-inched the bike and hid it for collection later.’
‘You mean it’s nowt to do with what went on afterwards?’ Carmichael screwed up her face. ‘Isn’t that a bit far-fetched, Andy? It’s more likely someone Elliott knew stopped and offered him a lift.’
‘Or even someone he didn’t,’ Maxwell said. ‘He should’ve listened when his granny told him not to talk to strangers.’
‘Neil has a point,’ Robson said. ‘He’d be knackered after wrestling all afternoon. If he was running late, he might have accepted a lift from someone he didn’t know and bitten off more than he could chew.’
‘They’re good suggestions,’ Kate said. ‘We know for certain that he made it as far as Elsdon – the blood on the church wall confirms this.’ She looked at Cole. ‘Are there any houses near the stash site?’
‘No,’ he said. ‘It’s quite a hike to the nearest property.’
‘That makes my suggestion a lot less likely then,’ Andy Brown conceded. ‘A thief would hardly steal a bike and leave him or herself miles to walk home.’
‘I agree,’ Kate said. ‘Let’s talk about the crime scene at Elsdon. There are benches directly outside St Andrew’s Church that Elliott could have used if he was meeting someone. It would appear that he chose instead to sit on the grass to the west of the churchyard. It occurred to me that he might have been waiting for someone he didn’t necessarily want to be seen with.’
‘Or he’d already met them,’ Lisa said. ‘And they were both sitting there together.’
‘Maybe he was hiding from someone,’ Andy was keen to redeem himself. ‘Or meeting a girl. Didn’t Willis say he heard a girl’s voice during the fracas?’
‘That’s a lot of maybes,’ Kate said. ‘Jane Gibson assured me he was meeting Richard Hedley. We can’t be sure of that until we
find him, so keep an open mind. She also said that Elliott owned a mobile but had no contract she’s aware of. She hasn’t a clue what type of phone it was but I gather he was in the habit of topping it up at a supermarket in Morpeth. Raise an action to check it out please, Lisa. We need to ID that female and the mobile might help us with that. I’ll return to the phone in a second . . .’ Kate took a breath, scanning the room. ‘Andy, there’s no longer any need to chase up tattooists. We have an ID, so reference it off. I want to talk about scene issues, the gibbet first. Neil, any news on the rope?’
‘It’s good quality,’ Maxwell said. ‘Made of natural fibres. It’s nicked and frayed in places with signs of mildew, but not rotten enough to snap when hauling Elliott onto the gibbet. Otherwise, it’s unremarkable. Any building supplier will stock it. Almost every farm will use it. We won’t be able to trace it easily.’
‘That doesn’t mean we don’t ask around,’ Kate said. ‘Mildew would suggest it’s been lying around outside. Any reports of missing rope?’
Maxwell shook his head. ‘Not so far.’
‘Keep at it. Anyone have anything else to say on the rope before we push on?’ Kate waited for a response. ‘I’m not hearing much enthusiasm, boys and girls.’ Carmichael and Brown had their heads together, some whispering going on. ‘Was there something you wanted to share with us, Lisa?’
Carmichael looked up, her face turning pink. ‘Have you ever read The Gallows Tree? It’s a book on true crime and punishment in the eighteenth century, written by an ex-copper my granddad knew: Barry Redfern.’
‘Never heard of it or him. Is it relevant?’
‘I think so.’
‘Go on.’
‘I think we’re right to work on the assumption that it would take a couple of offenders to haul a body up onto the gibbet.’ She paused, making sure she had everyone’s attention. ‘The book I just mentioned refers to special lifting tackle being used to get William Winter up there. I’m not suggesting our killer nipped home for some . . .’ She was still blushing. ‘But when Hank and I were having a chat about tyre tracks at the scene, it struck me that if a vehicle was used, for example a quad bike, it’d be a piece of cake.’
Kate threw her an appreciative smile. ‘I’d like to see that book.’
‘I’ll fetch it in tomorrow.’
‘Help me out here,’ Kate said. ‘The farmer who works the land adjacent to the gibbet . . . did someone say his name was Dodds?’ She took in a nod from Hank. ‘He needs a visit. Andy, can you fix that up? Specifically, I want to know if he’s taken a vehicle – any vehicle – near the gibbet recently, because, if he hasn’t, someone else has. Take him to the field. Don’t tell him where we found the tracks. Ask him to indicate where he was yesterday, where he was working every day last week. Let’s try and come up with a chronological account of his movements while using a vehicle, and which vehicles he used, if more than one. The tracks haven’t been there long. Did you pass Art A-level?’
Brown shook his head, suddenly on the back foot.
‘Well, I’m sure you can still draw a rough sketch to share with the team.’ Kate glanced at the murder wall. No new developments had been flagged up, a matter of deep concern to her. ‘Is there nothing new from DCI Atkins?’
Blank faces stared at her from every chair.
‘Does anyone know if he’s spoken to Tom Orde? Unless you know something I don’t, I’m not seeing any progress on that.’
And still there were no takers.
Kate tried to hide her irritation. It was basic procedure for an SIO to talk to the ‘finder’ as soon as they had spoken to the victim’s family. Atkins had done neither. She wondered if he’d ever read the murder investigation manual. It crossed her mind that he might be bypassing the squad because of their close association with her. Team members were clearly as unhappy with the situation as she was. She moved quickly on, for no other reason than to control the unrest spreading through the room.
‘Can I remind you all that Richard Hedley didn’t make the show yesterday. Like our victim, he’s a wrestler. Jane Gibson told me that her grandson was proud of his win and would want to rub his best friend’s nose in it. A throwaway remark, but there may be some truth in it. We need to find him. And not only him. Has anyone heard from Adam Foster yet?’
The receiver, Harry, was shaking his head. ‘Not so far.’
‘Get on to his CO again. He should be here, supporting his grandmother. Remember, scene issues are key. Oh, and while I’m on the subject of Jane Gibson: her son, the victim’s uncle, shot himself apparently. Have a look at it. I want to know why. This family have had one too many dramas for my liking and I don’t like coincidences.’ Kate let that sink in for a moment. ‘Anyone have any suggestions, ideas or thoughts up to this point?’
‘Can I mention Willis for a moment?’ Hank asked.
‘Please do.’
Hank got to his feet so he could see and be seen. ‘He has several grazes on his knuckles, he says from drystone walling and he’s a big bugger – big enough to haul a heavy weight with one hand tied behind his back. He’s a bit cagey around the police, so you should all bear that in mind if you come across him.’
‘Is he violent?’ someone at the rear of the room asked.
‘He’s hard to read. Just be on your guard.’ Hank sat down.
‘Before we wrap it up,’ Kate said. ‘Listen carefully because this is important. Grant wasn’t enamoured with Elliott’s mother, Gayle Foster. The father, Graeme, is less objectionable, but there is animosity between the two. According to Grant, Elliott called his mother around seven o’clock. She says he was stoned. The father disagrees. With no evidence of drugs or drink on his body, Grant has put forward the suggestion that he was possibly concussed from having taken a beating. If that was the case, it may be pivotal to the enquiry. I don’t want to jump the gun here, but if he used the phone after the altercation, either they let him go or he managed somehow to get free of them.’
‘So who strung him up . . . and when?’ The questions had come from Carmichael.
‘Exactly my point, Lisa.’
‘Are you suggesting someone returned to the scene to finish him off?’ Lisa’s alarmed expression was replicated on the face of every MIT member.
‘All options are on the table,’ Kate said. ‘It’s possible that the mob involved in the altercation outside the church took Elliott’s mobile so he couldn’t call for help, or maybe he was so confused he couldn’t find it after the fight and used the phone box a hundred metres away. We haven’t recovered the mobile yet. I’ve asked forensics to check out the call box and sent Grant to retrieve Gayle’s phone for further examination. I’m not prepared to speculate until we have hard evidence. If luck is on our side, this may be an early breakthrough.’
Carmichael shifted her eyes to Kate’s left, letting her know that there was someone standing in the doorway. The DCI glanced over her shoulder. Atkins was leaning against the doorjamb with his arms folded across his chest. She invited him in. He didn’t move or say anything. No thanks were issued for conducting the briefing, no explanation for his absence.
‘OK to end the briefing?’ she asked. ‘I’ll update you in your office.’
He turned and walked away.
Kate watched him go, steeling herself for another round of aggro. Dismissing the squad, she followed Atkins from the room. She found him in his office with his feet on the desk. She didn’t sit down and spent the next fifteen minutes updating him, finally running out of steam and patience, mostly due to his lack of enthusiasm. Sharing the same air with him made her skin crawl.
Resting his elbows on the table, Atkins made a steeple with his hands, his forefingers propping up his chin. ‘Very impressive,’ he said. ‘As you’re so keen to stick your nose in, why don’t you cover the post-mortem? I’d do it myself, only I’m playing single parent this week. I gather the prelims are done. The PM proper should keep you out of trouble for the rest of the evening. I’m afraid it’ll be a late one.
There’s a backlog of cases from an RTA on the Metrocentre bypass. They’ve got rather a lot on.’
‘Fine,’ Kate said. ‘I had no plans this evening.’
‘Then tomorrow you can give the house-to-house a hand. There’s not a lot of information coming in. Easy last day before you go on leave.’
‘That’s a bit below my pay grade.’
‘Shame.’
‘You know what, I’ll do anything to get out of here.’ Kate never took her eyes off him. Not a flicker of emotion showing on her face. He was calling the shots. She had to suck it up. She walked out, leaving his door wide open.
14
Kate arrived at Elsdon at six forty-five, by which time it was almost dark. She stepped from the car with a smile on her face. Following her intervention, and one or two complaints from residents on grounds that it wasn’t justified, Naylor had vetoed Atkins’ decision to leave the roadblock in place – one more reason, if one were needed, for the SIO to lose his temper.
Crime scene investigators had beaten her there. An arc light was being used to illuminate the village phone box. Inside she could see a figure in a white paper suit and blue gloves: one of two CSIs, busy making a visual and photographic record of what was in there. The blurred windows suggested he or she had already dusted for prints. With a hood pulled tight around the head, it was impossible to tell if the figure through the glass was male or female. The other CSI had just finished taping off the surrounding area to prevent contamination.
Parking the Q5 outside the Bird in the Bush, Kate turned off the lights and leaned against the headrest with Atkins’ voice ringing in her ears. There was no autumn moon and lots of cloud cover. Apart from the CSIs, there was no one else about. To her left, through the illuminated pub window, she could see only one drinker and it definitely wasn’t Willis. Still, she decided to go in and see if he was there.
The publican hadn’t seen him, so Kate had a word with the sole customer present. ‘Sir?’ She held up ID. ‘I’m DCI Kate Daniels, Northumbria Police. Can I have a quick word?’