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

by HELEN H. DURRANT

  He glowered at Rachel, muttering under his breath. “Bloody coppers. This is harassment.”

  “Tell me about Redhill Terrace, the house you did some work on a few years ago,” Rachel said.

  Pearce looked stunned. “What d’you mean?”

  “It’s a simple enough question. We know you rented the place, and the neighbours have told us that you spent all your time working in the cellar.”

  “I was turning it into a gym.”

  “Well, there’s no gym equipment in there now,” Rachel said.

  He shrugged. “It was an idea I had. Didn’t work out.”

  Rachel nodded, as if she understood. “Okay, fair enough. So, tell us about the hole you dug that goes down to the tunnel that leads to Shawcross Mill.”

  “You’re mad, you — talking rubbish. What d’you mean, a tunnel? There’s no such thing.”

  “Oh, yes there is, Ray. I’ve walked it myself.”

  He grunted. “I need to get home. You’ve no right keeping me here. I’ve done nowt.”

  “You assaulted your wife,” Rachel said.

  “That was an accident.”

  “Does the name Gordon Swan mean anything to you?”

  Pearce’s eyes widened, and he turned to his solicitor. “They’re not pinning that one on me. I wasn’t involved, none of us were.”

  Rachel raised her eyebrows. Where had that come from? “Want to explain? ‘None of us’ — that’s a strange thing to say. I presume you’re talking about Siddall and Wellburn?”

  “No comment. You’re getting nothing else from me, copper. I’m likely to get my head blown off.”

  “Now who would do that? Who are you protecting, Ray?”

  He looked down. “No one, figure of speech.”

  “Why did you think Mathew Shawcross would help you? You wanted to speak to him, remember?”

  “I was confused, don’t know what I was thinking. That man has never helped anyone but himself. He’s a selfish bugger and nasty with it.”

  “Care to explain?”

  “No. Forget what I said.”

  The problem was Rachel couldn’t. Ever since Ray had mentioned his name and she’d gone and spoken to him, Rachel had had a bad feeling about that man.

  Chapter Fifty

  Rachel and Elwin returned to the incident room. “He’s as guilty as sin,” Elwyn said. “See his face? He definitely didn’t like you bringing Swan up, did he?”

  “We still can’t prove he dug that hole or who for. He scared to death of someone, but who, Elwyn? We’re missing someone in this case. Who is it?” Rachel asked.

  “It’s too late to think about that now. Time to call it a day. You’ve got a long drive home.”

  “I’ll speak to Lennox first and then make tracks. You get off,” she told him. “You put in the time as well, you know.”

  He smiled. “But I live a lot nearer to the station.”

  Rachel said goodnight to Elwyn and went into her office. She dialled Lennox’s number and waited.

  “Mr Lennox? I’m DCI Rachel King, East Manchester CID. I wonder if you’d mind helping me with some details about an old case of yours.”

  “No problem, love — if I can.”

  Rachel smiled to herself. With his broad Northern accent, Jim Lennox sounded friendly enough. “Do you recall the Gordon Swan case?”

  “I certainly do. Quite a mystery, that one. Still remains open to this day. During the investigation we spoke to a lot of people, including any number of folk who didn’t like the man. But in the end, no one had a strong enough motive to kill him. Then there was the big question of how the killer had got out of the property. CCTV didn’t pick anything up and it hadn’t been tampered with. We also had statements from a group of kids who’d been in that street all evening. Fair did my head in, that one.”

  “We have a group of suspects,” Rachel told him, “but we’re struggling with motive — apart from theft. He was carrying a lot of money, but the suspects in question are certainly not living it up.”

  “Someone wanted Swan dead, that’s for sure. It is likely that he was lured to that address — as far as we could determine, he’d never been there before. I reckoned it was personal. He was planning to divorce his wife, Flora, at the time. Have you spoken to her?” Lennox asked.

  “No, but I will,” Rachel said. “Do you know why he wanted a divorce?”

  “Rumour had it there was another woman, but we never found out who she was.”

  “Do you know how much money he had on him that day?” she asked.

  “His PA said roughly two hundred thousand, but that could have been an exaggeration. He carted it around in bags. One was even chained to his wrist.”

  “Thank you, Mr Lennox, you’ve been a great help. We’re investigating the Swan case in tandem with another one.”

  “It’s always bothered me. I presumed I’d missed something, had to have, otherwise we would have caught the killer. I mean, we arrived before he left. How could that have been? The neighbours heard the first shot, and forensics later found the bullet buried in the wall. The second shot killed him, and we’d just arrived with armed response. There was just no time for him to make good an escape.”

  “That property on Redhill Terrace has a secret,” Rachel told him. “And that is key to piecing together what happened that night.”

  “What sort of secret?”

  “A tunnel leading from the cellar to Shawcross Mill.”

  “We had no idea. When it’s all over, let me know who you arrest,” he said.

  “I will,” Rachel said, and put down the receiver.

  Tomorrow she’d speak to Flora Swan, ask about the woman her husband had planned to leave her for. She ran through the names in her head: Wellburn, Siddall, Pearce. For a while she’d thought there was a fourth — Shawcross, perhaps? But somehow, he didn’t fit, not with the likes of Pearce and his cohorts anyway. No, Ray Pearce was a much better bet.

  Rachel was out in the corridor, jacket and bag in hand, when she saw the light still on in Kenton’s office. She’d have a quick word first.

  “Swan’s murder is directly linked to that of Wellburn,” she told him.

  Mark Kenton was watching her closely. “You can prove all this? You have a murder suspect in mind?”

  “Yes, but we still don’t have definitive proof, Mark. You’ll just have to be patient.”

  Chapter Fifty-one

  Wednesday

  The previous evening, uniform had again arrested Dylan Healey for dealing in Shawcross Mill. He’d been brought in and had spent the night in the cells.

  “Want me to interview him?” Jonny asked.

  Rachel smiled at the eager young DC. “Yes, see what he has to say about Sherwin. He’s a piece of this puzzle that doesn’t fit. When you’ve done with him, bring Siddall in for questioning.” She turned to Elwyn. “You and I are off to Didsbury for a word with Flora Swan, Gordon Swan’s widow.”

  Amy looked up from her desk. “I’ve been checking phone records. Wellburn’s provider have finally sent though what I asked for. That number Jonny found on Siddall’s mobile — Wellburn rang it too, and there are other numbers. It appears the phone was changed regularly. Whoever used them must have been known to both men, and some of the numbers go back three years.”

  “Good work, Amy. Get hold of Ray Pearce’s records and check them as well.”

  “You think he rang the same numbers?” Amy asked.

  “I’m hoping not. If Pearce is our man, they’ll have been burner phones used for incoming calls from the others.”

  Rachel and Elwyn made for the car. She handed him the keys. “Do you mind driving? I got a printout of the report on Swan’s death, and I want to read through it before we tackle Mrs Swan.”

  “We really need to know who Swan was having an affair with. Jealousy is a strong motive for murder, Rachel.”

  “Murder and robbery. A lot of money was stolen and that’s been bothering me. None of our suspects, not even Ray, have m
uch put away, nor is there any evidence that they spent a great deal in the last three years.”

  “Siddall bought that bungalow,” Elwyn reminded her.

  “I got Stella to check. He has a mortgage. Pearce owns the tenancy of that pub, but he took out a bank loan for that years ago. We’re missing something, Elwyn. Those three are involved but someone else orchestrated Swan’s murder and carried out the shootings.”

  * * *

  They were soon driving into the suburbs at the smarter end of Manchester. Didsbury had a range of small, high-end shops and cafés strung along the high street, followed by leafy lanes with large Edwardian properties. It was a desirable suburb, due to its position well within hailing distance of the city, and the regular tram service made for easy commuting.

  “Perhaps we should have told her we were coming,” Elwyn said.

  “It’s better to surprise people. That way, they don’t have the opportunity to think too hard about what they’re going to tell us. They’re inclined to be more truthful.”

  Flora Swan lived at the head of a wide avenue of impressive detached houses with large front gardens. It was a pleasant, sunny day, and when they parked outside, the detectives saw a woman who had to be Flora pruning roses in the garden.

  “Mrs Swan?” Rachel called to her. She flashed her badge. “DCI King and DS Pryce from East Manchester CID. Can we have a word?”

  As they approached, Flora Swan’s expression hardened. “If it’s about that philandering rat of a husband of mine, I’ve nothing to say.” She turned her back and carried on pruning.

  “We won’t keep you,” Elwyn said. “But we do have some questions we need answers to urgently.”

  She straightened up and stared at them. “Three years, and now suddenly it’s urgent! You people amaze me.”

  “Your husband’s murder is linked to a case we are currently investigating. With your help, we may stand a chance of finally charging someone,” he said.

  The woman didn’t look impressed. “Well, I haven’t got long.”

  “We’ve been looking through the case file,” Rachel began. “It seems your husband was having an affair. Do you know who the other woman was?” It was time to be blunt. They needed the truth, not an argument.

  “She was deluded. Gordon would never have left me.”

  “Mrs Swan, her name, please!” Rachel said.

  Flora Swan stared away across the garden. “Gordon was complicated, but his head was easily turned by a pretty face, particularly one with a sob story to tell.”

  “Who are you talking about, Mrs Swan?” Elwyn asked.

  Rachel watched the woman wrestle with this. She was on the point of telling them something, but what? “You want his killer caught,” Rachel said kindly. “Well, so do we. Help us, tell us what you know. Gordon is dead, there is no longer any reason for you to be embarrassed about his affair.”

  “I’m not embarrassed, I’m bloody angry! It may be three years down the road, but it still festers. You have no idea what that man put me through. Even today, I still see the pitying looks, hear people whispering. They feel sorry for me and I hate it. That woman would have taken everything — my husband, my home, even my life. The pair of them wanted to throw me on the scrapheap and I couldn’t have that.”

  Rachel had no idea what to make of this venomous outburst. What did she mean? Could she have had a hand in his murder? “You feel aggrieved. I understand that. Want to tell me what you did about it?”

  She deflated. “As usual, I did nothing. When it came to it, I bottled out. I didn’t even make the phone call.”

  “What call, Mrs Swan?” Elwyn asked. “It’s important that you tell us.”

  “That woman had a husband, and he was even angrier than I was, if that’s possible. He rang me — raging, he was. He told me that he’d make them pay, teach the two of them a lesson, and asked if I would help.”

  “Did you agree?”

  Flora Swan shook her head. “It was a simple enough request, too. All he asked was for me to ring Gordon and tell him to go to a particular address in Ancoats.”

  “Redhill Terrace.” Of course. “Did you know what this man intended to do?”

  “No, of course, I didn’t, and I didn’t make the call either. It was only when Gordon was killed that I realised the man was extremely dangerous and I should have told you lot.”

  “Do you know his name?” Rachel asked.

  “No, and I didn’t ask. I didn’t want to know anything about him or the woman who’d stolen Gordon from me. I wanted them to remain faceless, nameless. Only then would I stand some chance of forgetting.”

  “Even so, do you know anything about this woman?” asked Elwyn. “No matter how small, any information you can give us might help.”

  “No. Nothing. Only that she was divorced from a man who refused to let go and had a daughter who, like me, didn’t approve of the relationship.”

  Chapter Fifty-two

  Dylan Healey, alias Spider, didn’t look happy when he was brought to the interview room.

  “Not this again!” Healey said to Jonny. “Don’t you lot get fed up with the same old routine? I’ve done nowt, I know nowt. How many times do I have to say it?”

  “Sit still and be quiet, Dylan. You’ve been dealing again. How many times do you need telling?”

  “A bit of weed, nothing heavy. Don’t know what all the fuss is about.”

  “It isn’t always just weed though, is it? What about the stuff you sold for Sherwin?” Jonny said.

  “What’s Sherwin got to do with anything? He’s dead, you know that.”

  “He was shot,” Jonny said. “He must have upset someone. You’ll have to watch the same doesn’t happen to you.”

  Healey grinned. “Not a chance, mate. I don’t mix in the same circles.”

  “What circles are those?” Jonny asked.

  Healey shook his head. “I’ve said too much already. You’re trying to trick me.”

  “Why would I do that, Dylan? We’ve told you before, if you’re in any danger, tell us and we’ll protect you.”

  “Not from the bastard that got Sherwin you won’t.” He muttered a curse. “And all because of that stupid girl.”

  “Jasmine Pearce?”

  “No, not her. Some posh bird with a habit. Look, I’m not saying another word. It’s too dangerous.”

  Suddenly it dawned on Jonny. “That posh bird you mentioned. Do you mean Millie Shawcross? We know Sherwin had a hold over her. Her boyfriend, Damon Brooke, is an addict.”

  Healey’s face reddened. “I didn’t say that, copper. You can’t use it, understand? You didn’t hear that off me!”

  * * *

  Jonny returned to the incident room. Rachel and Elwyn were back.

  “Get anything?” Rachel asked him.

  “I think Sherwin was killed because of Millie Shawcross. He made her give him that false alibi, remember,” Jonny said.

  “That brings us back to Damon, her boyfriend, and he has an alibi that’s sound,” Elwyn said.

  “There is someone else who’d be pretty angry at anyone threatening Millie. Her father,” Rachel said. She walked over to the board and drew a series of lines connecting some of the names and their photos. “Shawcross is everywhere in this investigation. We need to speak to him again.”

  “That might be a motive for Sherwin’s shooting but what about the others? Swan, for instance?” Elwyn asked. “What connects them all?”

  “Is it possible that it was Shawcross’s ex-wife that Swan was having the affair with? Shawcross has a reputation for being jealous and controlling.” Rachel studied the board, her face thoughtful. “Have him brought in and get a search warrant organised for that mansion of his. Have Jude and her team on standby. We’re mainly looking for those burner phones.”

  Amy put the office phone down. “Andy Siddall has been brought in, ma’am,” she said. “We haven’t got to the bottom of the phone calls yet. I thought we should ask him outright.”

 
“Did you check out Pearce’s records?” Rachel asked.

  “Yes, ma’am. He rang the number as well. All the calls the men made follow roughly the same pattern. A lot were on the same dates.”

  “All three of them then. Who were they speaking to? Shawcross? Come on, Elwyn, we’ll go and see what Siddall has to say.”

  Chapter Fifty-three

  “How are you doing, Andy?” Rachel asked. “Getting over the attack?”

  Andy Siddall nodded.

  “It must be tough, knowing that someone wants you dead, yet being unable to give the police a name. But we can help you with that.”

  “I didn’t see his face, just a tall bloke dressed in black with a balaclava over his head. I’ve no idea who he was,” he said.

  “I don’t believe you, Andy. I think you know very well who shot you, but you’re too scared to tell us,” Elwyn said.

  Rachel watched Siddall closely. He was nervous and he still didn’t look well. “You should be in hospital. You discharged yourself against the doctor’s advice,” she said. “How’s Rita? Is she recovering?”

  “She had to have surgery. That thug ruptured her spleen.”

  “You’ve known Pearce for a long time. You, Ray and Gav were good mates at one time. What happened?” Rachel asked.

  Siddall shook his head. “Gav’s dead, and me and Ray were never mates in the first place.”

  “Did you know Gordon Swan?” she said.

  Siddall’s head shot up. He stared at her. “What’s that idiot said?”

  “Which idiot do you mean, Ray? No one’s told us anything, but we know what happened. We know about the tunnel too.”

  “Think you’ve done your homework, don’t you?” He gave Rachel a sly smile. “But I’m betting you don’t know what it all means. You haven’t pieced it together yet or you wouldn’t be pumping me for information.”

  “So, tell us, Andy. Why kill Swan? We’ve looked at your finances, and you’d didn’t benefit from the money that was taken. Tell us who did.”

  “Can you prove I had anything to do with Swan’s murder? No,” he stated. “And you won’t.”

  “You’re protecting someone. Rita, perhaps?” Rachel asked. “Who from? Ray? Because Ray’s locked up in our cells and can’t do her any more harm.”