FORGOTTEN VICTIM an absolutely gripping crime mystery with a massive twist (Detective Rachel King Thrillers Book 4)

by HELEN H. DURRANT

  “What d’you mean, bloody jacket?” Elwyn asked.

  “Never had the thing off his back. We were all in town one night and got into a bit of bother drinking, and then we got into a fight. A bloke ended up in hospital and that’s how he fingered us — described Gav’s jacket. You lot picked him up on CCTV and brought us all in.”

  “So you have a record,” Rachel said.

  “No, the bloke was okay, a few bruises, nothing serious. He dropped the charges.”

  “You were lucky,” said Elwyn. “Who exactly was involved in this altercation?”

  “Can’t rightly remember . . . me, Gav and Ray Pearce, yeah, that’s right.”

  Elwyn wrote the names down and put a question mark beside them. “Back to DI King’s question, is there anything you can think of that will help us confirm it’s Gavin?”

  “I don’t think he ever broke anything, but he was very particular about his teeth. One of the bottom ones at the front got cracked in a rugby match. Gav was aiming for the touchline and went crashing into one of the goalposts, right mess his mouth was.”

  He had Rachel’s full attention. “What did he do about it?”

  “Got it fixed. It cost a packet, I know that much. But you’d never know, it looked so real. He had a false one matched to the others then screwed and cemented in. I know he never said anything much to his missus, didn’t want her know how much it cost.”

  “Thanks, Andy, that might be helpful. I’ll check it out.” Rachel got up to leave. “You can go for now but stay local, we’ll be wanting to talk to you again.”

  Despite what he’d told them, Rachel was sure Siddall was still holding something back. Out in the corridor, she rang Jude on her mobile. “Gavin Wellburn had a false bottom tooth. It appears he wasn’t happy with an ordinary false one and had a permanent one fixed.”

  “I haven’t done the X-rays yet, but I’ll get on with them at once. If they confirm what you say, I’ll ring you. I plan to do the PM this afternoon, if you want to come?”

  “Okay, me and Elwyn will see you later.” Rachel was beginning to feel better. This could be progress, and they certainly needed it.

  Back in the incident room, she looked at the names Siddall, Pearce and Wellburn on the board. Apart from Shawcross Mill, what else linked them? Every instinct told her there was something, but what?

  “Ma’am,” Jonny said. “Billy Sherwin appears to be on his uppers. I can only find one bank account and that’s in the red. He doesn’t own any property or a car.”

  “I hope you got a warrant before you accessed that account. We don’t want any comebacks. Amy, anything on those bank notes yet?”

  “Forensics only came up with partial serial numbers so the bank says it could take a while.”

  That was one part of the puzzle Rachel couldn’t figure. Why stuff money into a man’s mouth before you kill him — and fifties at that? She went to her office to think, but all she could come up with was the falling-out among thieves that they’d spoken about before. But if that was the case, what had been stolen?

  Her office phone rang. It was Jason Fox, Jude’s colleague.

  “We’ve got the all-clear to examine the tunnel where the body was found. It’s quite safe, probably been there for centuries according to the council. Part of an early Victorian sewer, they reckon, extended when the mill was first built.”

  That was excellent news. There could be evidence down there and if there was, Jason would find it.

  Chapter Seventeen

  “We’ve cleaned him up,” Jude said. “He had blonde hair, if that helps.”

  “It checks with the description we have of Gavin Wellburn but we need more than that.”

  Jude nodded. “The X-rays are ready. I’m having them sent down.” She joined the pathologist Colin Butterfield at the table.

  “The leg bones are broken, and the knee joints shattered by gunshot. It’s impossible to determine how the other breaks happened, but they could have been done deliberately or perhaps as a result of being thrown into that space,” Butterfield said. “It would help to know where he was shot. That could help determine if he was dead or alive when they bricked him up.”

  Rachel shivered. Either option was horrific. “How would it help?”

  “If the bullets are found where he was, then that’s where he was shot. That sort of wound isn’t usually intended to kill, but to maim. Therefore, it was the killer’s intention that the man suffer. Perhaps until the moment he finally died.”

  “We’ll see what forensics find, but we might never know,” Jude pointed out. “His teeth are in good condition. Taking that and the good state of the joints that are intact, I would put his age at thirty-five to forty.”

  “I concur,” said Butterfield.

  “Do you know what killed him?” asked Elwyn.

  “There is an indentation on his skull, on the right temple, but the skull itself isn’t fractured so I doubt it killed him. Knocked him unconscious, possibly caused an internal bleed, but decomposition makes it impossible to determine. He was shot in both knees and could no longer stand or help himself. He would have bled profusely and, given the head wound, lain unconscious for a while. It’s not a nice thought, Rachel, but he could have bled to death, died of hypothermia or even starvation. He was bricked up, remember. The position of that tunnel is such that he could have screamed for days and no one would have heard him.”

  “You’re saying that he could have been alive and just left like that?”

  “Yes, Rachel, that’s a real possibility,” Butterfield said. “Which suggests that whoever did it wanted him to suffer and made certain he couldn’t escape.”

  “Well, they certainly did that,” Elwyn said. “The space he was found in was dark and cramped. I find it surprising that anyone even knew it was there.”

  Elwyn had a point. Rachel could have kicked herself for not thinking of it herself. Whoever did it would have needed a pretty good knowledge of how that mill was built. And that led them straight back to the Shawcross family.

  “Do we have any further information about that tunnel?” she asked Jude.

  “Jason is still down there. He hasn’t reported back yet.”

  A technician entered the room and handed Jude a large envelope.

  “The X-rays.” Jude put them up on the viewer. “There’s your answer. See the remnants of metal in the lower jawbone?” She pointed. “Even close up, there’s nothing to see from the outside. I’d say he was punched quite heavily about the mouth shortly before death, and that broke his lower jaw causing that piece of metal you see to shift to the odd angle it’s at now. The false tooth it was attached to has fallen out. If Jason finds it, he’ll bring it in.”

  Rachel took a look at the body — the blonde hair, the right age and the false tooth, along with the distinctive leather jacket. It was enough. They finally had a firm ID for the victim.

  “Thanks, Jude. We’d better tell his wife.”

  * * *

  Outside in the car park, Rachel had to stand a minute and take a few deep breaths. Gavin Wellburn had met a dreadful end. Whoever had done that to him had to be brought to book.

  “You can leave this to me if you want to get off,” Elwyn said. “I’m not insensitive, I saw you were struggling in there. Jude will finish up and send the report through.”

  “No, I’ll stick with it. We’ll tell Mrs Wellburn together, then I’ll drop you at the station and go home.”

  “I won’t argue. I know you — that’ll only get me an earful. But I’ll drive so you can take a breather.”

  Rachel wasn’t about to argue that one. It was rush hour, and the traffic along Ashton New Road would be bumper to bumper.

  “Now we have to piece it together, find out why Wellburn was killed. Dealing, d’you think?”

  “I’m not sure. But the bank notes in his mouth suggest an argument over money. We’ll talk to Healey tomorrow and, if needs be, we bring in Billy Sherwin, see what he has to say.”

  “D�
��you reckon Wellburn’s wife told us the truth?”

  Rachel turned away and stared out of the window at the slow-moving traffic. The next bit was the part of the job she hated the most. “What do we say to her, Elwyn? She’s bound to ask how he died. There’s no way I can give her any of the details from the PM. They might have split, but he was still her husband.”

  “We say the body we found is Gavin and leave it at that. If she insists, we can direct her to Jude,” Elwyn said.

  “That’s a cop-out, but I’ll go with it for now. No details tonight, agreed? I don’t have the stomach for it, Elwyn.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  Jonny deliberately hung around so that he was last to leave the incident room. He had a plan. Amy had gone off the minute Elwyn told them DCI King wasn’t coming back after the PM. He told Jonny to do the same, but the young DC made an excuse about needing to check his emails. “Anything comes in, I’ll let you know,” Jonny promised.

  “In that case I’ll do one myself,” Elwyn said. “Don’t hang around too long. Tomorrow is another day.”

  True, but dodging the workload wasn’t the way to rise through the ranks. Extra effort put in now, while he was a lowly detective constable, wouldn’t hurt.

  Keen to move the case along, Jonny wanted to know more about the drug dealing around the mill. Healey was involved, for sure, but what about the other unnamed man Healey had hinted at? The name Billy Sherwin had come up before and, despite finding nothing on him, Jonny suspected he was worth a closer look. If Jonny could prove Sherwin was involved, he would be questioned, and it might mean being a step closer to finding whoever killed Wellburn.

  Jonny was taking a risk. He was aware that he should have told someone what he was up to, but he reckoned he’d be safe enough, given that the mill was being watched around the clock by a couple of uniformed officers. Anything went wrong, all he had to do was shout.

  Jonny left the station and drove to Shawcross Street, parked up in the shadows and waited. There was no one about. The Spinners Arms was lit up, but the windows were small and grimy so there was no chance of seeing who was inside.

  He waited almost an hour before a couple of lads approached the mill gates. They saw the two uniforms on duty, spent the next few minutes screaming obscenities at them, then moved on, laughing. Jonny watched them walk to the end of the street and disappear into a ginnel that led to the rear of the mill.

  Jonny hopped out of his car and keeping to the shadows, followed the lads at a distance. They had dodged through a hole in the fence and were standing in the mill yard at the back of the building, well out of sight of the uniforms, and given the size of the building, unlikely to be heard either. They were soon joined by a third lad who opened the back gates. The uniforms at the front entrance hadn’t got a clue.

  Jonny crouched low against the tall, dark walls. Within minutes, the lad at the gate was surrounded by at least a dozen others, all on push bikes. He was handing over small packets from a plastic shopping bag and collecting what Jonny presumed to be cash. Suddenly the entire scene was illuminated by the headlights of a car that had just driven through the opened back gates.

  The driver got out. He was a huge brute of a bloke, who towered above the kids. Jonny heard him shouting.

  “Stupid idiots, haven’t you seen the coppers round the front?” He made for the lad who’d been doling out the packets, picked him up and sent him spinning to the ground, where he landed on his backside.

  “Beef! Get off me!” the lad screamed.

  Jonny hadn’t heard the nickname ‘Beef’ before, but given the size of the man, he could see why he’d earned it. As Jonny strained his eyes to see what was going on, he suddenly heard a young woman shout into the darkness.

  “Leave him, Billy! We need to go.”

  Billy! So Jonny had been right in his suspicions, Billy Sherwin was the top man round here. Jonny watched the girl get out of the car and try to help the lad up off the ground.

  “He’s banged his head,” she shouted. “You hit him too hard!”

  “Leave the little bastard alone. He’ll be fine. Get back in the car.”

  “But he’s not right,” she said. “He can barely stand!”

  Sherwin took hold of the girl’s arm and dragged her off. “Get in. We’ve got stuff to do. And you lot, leave this until the police clear off. I swear you haven’t a brain cell between you.” He cuffed one of the lads on the ear. Jonny could hear the blow. “Get caught and you’re on your own. You’ll get no help from me.”

  Jonny stared at the girl, caught in the car headlights. He’d seen her before somewhere. Of course — her photo was up on the incident board. Jasmine Pearce, Rita’s daughter.

  * * *

  Within ten minutes the lot of them had cleared off, leaving the mill as quiet as the grave. On his way back to his car, Jonny was stopped by the two uniforms, who had completely missed the fracas round the back.

  Jonny showed them his badge. “DC Farrell from East Manchester CID,” he said. “We’re investigating the murder.”

  “We heard a noise,” one of the PCs said.

  “Just kids. They’ve gone now.” Jonny decided to keep what had just gone on to himself. That was for the team to deal with in the morning. He made for the Spinners Arms. If she was in the right mood, Rita Pearce might just talk to him. On his way across the road, he debated whether to tell her about Jasmine.

  Rita was behind the bar, drying glasses. She recognised him the minute he walked through the door. “You work with that detective,” she said. “Look, I’m tired of all this. What do you want now?”

  “A coke.” Smiling, Jonny looked around. There were only four people in the pub and one of them was Dylan Healey. He was seated on his own by the window.

  “I got bail, copper,” he shouted across. “I’ve also got a good lawyer, so you’ll be lucky to pin this one on me.”

  “We don’t pin things on anybody, Dylan,” Jonny said. “We gather evidence and go from there. And given the evidence we’re gathering on you, you’ll need the best when you go in front of a judge.”

  Healey scowled and took a swig of his lager.

  “Has Beef been in tonight? I saw the car across the road,” Jonny said.

  Healey looked surprised. “You know Beef, then?”

  “Yeah, we do a little business now and again,” Jonny lied. You never knew, Healey might let something slip if his guard was down.

  But Rita interrupted the conversation. “You’ve said enough. At this rate I’ll get a brick through the window. Get out, Dylan, and stay out until you’re sorted.” She turned to Jonny. “You don’t fool me. I doubt you’ve ever spoken to the man. And you’re wasting your time anyway. Beef Sherwin doesn’t come in here unless he has to.”

  “Not even to see your daughter?” Jonny asked.

  Rita looked horrified. “Shut your mouth. Don’t go shouting his name in my pub again. Talk to you lot about that animal and it brings a load of trouble to your door.”

  She marched across and collected Healey’s empty glass. Jonny drained his coke. Rita Pearce wasn’t going to talk to him, but at least he knew for sure that Sherwin was involved in the dealing. Is that why Wellburn was killed? Had he double-crossed Sherwin?

  Chapter Nineteen

  Friday

  First thing Friday morning, Dylan Healey was back at the station. Rachel decided she’d interview him with Jonny. The young DC had done his homework on the dealing at the mill and knew the score. Not that she was happy with him going it alone.

  “I thought we’d had this conversation before,” she said. “You do recall the Danulescu debacle?” She was referring to Jonny’s solo performance in an earlier case. “You went off alone then, too, and nearly got yourself killed.”

  “With respect, last night was a risk worth taking, ma’am. There were a couple of uniformed officers at the front, so all I had to do was shout.”

  “But they were oblivious to what was going on at the back of the mill?”

/>   “Yes, but it is a big building and those kids weren’t daft, they kept relatively quiet.”

  “You saw Sherwin?”

  “I saw a bloke drive up in a fancy car. I took the registration number and checked it out this morning. It does belong to Billy Sherwin as I suspected, but what surprised me was seeing Jasmine Pearce with him.”

  Rachel inhaled. She didn’t fancy telling Rita Pearce that her daughter was running drugs. She’d been reasonably helpful so far, but this was something else.

  “I reckon if we present Healey with the facts, he’ll crack. He’ll be too scared that Sherwin will think he grassed,” Jonny said.

  “But he wasn’t involved in whatever was going down at the mill last night. He was in the pub, drinking, you said. It would have made more sense if he’d met Sherwin or been the one organising those kids. And you were on your own, remember. It’s your word against Sherwin’s that he was even there at all. Healey is treated with kid gloves until we get some positive answers,” she said firmly. “Have you got that, Jonny? We don’t upset him. If we want Sherwin, then Healey must tell us about him.”

  “When Healey spoke to us before, the drug boss he was referring to was Sherwin. Has to be. One of his gang or not, he knows a lot more than he’s told us.”

  Jonny might be right. Rachel hated interviewing suspects under these conditions. They were forced to rely on Healey telling them the truth, and he had a lot to lose if he did.

  * * *

  Dylan Healey was sitting next to the duty solicitor, sipping water, when they went in. He smiled at the two detectives as if they were old friends.

  “Could do with sprucing up a bit, this place. I’m not too fond of the insipid green paint. It’s peeling off the walls over there.”

  Ignoring this remark, Rachel smiled benignly. “Morning, Dylan. We appreciate you coming in. Hope we’re not keeping you from anything important.”

  “I had a skinful last night. You’re lucky I’m out of my pit.”