Craig Gillan pulled up his surgical mask to cover his nose and mouth before the small drill, capped by a rotating sanding disk, shaved away the hard skin from the client’s heel. A small tube positioned within the drill’s handle vacuumed the powdered, dead skin as it was released. He had assumed correctly, the finding of two bodies so close together and within one week of each other had certainly got tongues wagging and the Chinese whispers had already started.
“To think he was found in a car on Victoria Avenue in broad daylight. I visited the library too on that day. Just think, Mr Gillan, the poor man could have been dying while I walked past. You just never know these days. Country’s going to ruin what with the youth of today. They call them snowflakes, I believe, not like the youth in my day. Much more respect for everything including Queen and country,” she finished with a heavy exhale.
Craig let the sigh settle before switching off the machine and removing his mask.
She continued. “People have said that he was murdered, shot with one of them silenced guns, just like the other chap, you know the one they found in the car park on Tower Street. I never use them myself.” She noticed him look up and frown. “Car parks, Mr Gillan, I never use those car parks, not silenced guns.” She chuckled realising what she’d said. “No, you never know who might be lurking in the shadows. I don’t know what Harrogate’s coming to what with the reports of drug fuelled yobbery and then there’s the litter.”
Yobbery, that was a new term he had not heard before. Craig simply lowered his head and concentrated on massaging cream into her foot as he let the last part of the sentence sink in… murder and litter. He knew which he would rather be dealing with.
“You can’t believe everything you read in the newspapers, especially the local ones neither; should you listen to the Chinese whispers, they’d have you believe that the world is coming to an end next Tuesday. So you saw nothing I take it, Mrs Clements?”
“No, but I’ve heard that a neighbour has one of those cameras in his car and he drove down Victoria Avenue on the day in question. He’s taken it into the police. I know that for a fact! They were asking for the public’s assistance.”
He simply smiled and helped her from the chair. “How do your feet feel now?”
“Like walking on air, as always after your excellent work. Thank you. Is my next appointment in six weeks?”
“Indeed, Mrs Clements,” he said and then mumbled knowing she was hard of hearing. “If we all haven’t been murdered in our beds or lost in the landfill of litter that Harrogate is about to become if your predictions are correct!”
“You mark my words, they usually come in threes unless you break a match after the second. Well, that’s what my mother always said. You mark my words, there’ll be another body found soon, you’ll see!”
It’s being so cheerful that keeps her going, he thought as he walked her to the door before taking the tray of used instruments into the storeroom and placing them on the bench next to the autoclave. He had thirty minutes before his next client, enough time for what he needed to do. He removed his protective gloves and rubbed his hands carefully before slipping off his white coat. He checked the front door was locked before returning to the storeroom.
12
Cyril’s phone rang. He listened before going to one of the computers. He tapped the keypad and the screen came to life. A few more taps and he found that for which he had been directed to search.
“Owen, come and see this. The appeal to the public for help in the Victoria Avenue incident has brought a reward. Some dash-cam footage.”
Cyril popped on his glasses and could feel Owen’s breath on the side of his face as they peered at the screen. The video was exceptionally clear.
Cyril gave an involuntary commentary. “He’s turned off the A61, Station Parade. There’s the zebra crossing… He’s stopped to let someone cross. Polite driver.”
“The Volvo should be just ahead on the right,” Owen said as Cyril’s finger hovered over the mouse in readiness to pause it.
“There… coming up… Bingo!”
Both men stared at the paused image. It clearly showed the driver’s door ajar and somebody crouched behind it. “Look at the shoes, Owen!” Cyril exclaimed as his fingers touched three keys and he heard the sound of the activation of the screenshot facility. He immediately brought up the image and then enlarged it. They could see only the bottom of the door and the feet of the person next to the car. He was wearing a pair of black ankle boots and what appeared to be dark socks and dark blue trousers.
“What do you notice, sir?”
“The shine on the shoes, Owen. Now that’s unusual.” Cyril looked at the time showing on the original footage. “It can’t be Baines; he didn’t leave his office until much later. So who’s this and more importantly what’s he up to in broad daylight in somebody else’s car?”
They ran the rest of the footage but there was nothing they could see that was of any relevance to the case.
“It’s not much but it’s a start and better than nothing, sir. Maybe the Forensic foot fetishists will be able to see something we can’t. They’ll certainly run checks with the National Footwear Reference Collection. We can then see who might stock the shoes locally and then we put two and two together…”
The Forensic Footwear Analysis Service at their disposal would certainly be in a position to investigate their findings but Cyril felt sure that there would be little to discover.
“What?” Cyril turned to look at his colleague. “Owen, I don’t know who fills your head with these things but one step at a time eh?”
“Funny, sir, very funny.”
“You made a note on the whiteboard that the indentation to the carpet mat behind the driver’s seat was from something weighing approximately fourteen kilograms.”
Owen nodded. “How they know this stuff is beyond me. Whatever was put there had to be carried from the car so we’re looking for someone with a large holdall, rucksack or cabin bag maybe. Nothing else was taken — phone, wallet — so what was in the back? Don’t forget also that the doors were left ajar. Whatever it was, Baines must have left it visible and it was removed before his return. But there’s no sign of a bag here unless it was on the driver’s seat, and if that’s the case there should be something for Forensics. But we can’t commit to DNA checks until we have something concrete, it’s unjustifiable.”
“So theft is a possibility? Anything from CCTV for the area or the roads leading to and from the station on that day?”
Cyril immediately realised what he had asked. Harrogate was not only a major conference centre but also a favourite holiday destination with travellers coming and going daily. He was aware that the majority would not be in this part of the town trundling luggage, but they would either use private transport and drive to and from their hotel or venue. If they came by train or coach they would probably not walk in the vicinity of Victoria Avenue.
“CCTV from the library. We have an image of one person coming in carrying a large rucksack, they left later and then returned. The way the bag was handled on the return suggests that whatever had been in it had been removed between these times.” He looked over the notes.
“That fits the dash-cam times.”
“We’re checking the names of those returning books, it’s computerised now but from all accounts the person wasn’t recognised by the librarians. It appears that he just picked something and read there. Just killing time probably.”
“After preparing to kill Baines?” He hoped the question would remain rhetorical and immediately continued. “Do they know what he picked up? DNA or prints might be possible.”
Owen just looked at Cyril and his facial expression clearly answered the question.
“Can we get a height and weight reference from the images, Owen?”
“Five eleven with normal build. He knew where the cameras were and was able to avoid facial recognition. Been there in the past probably, sir.”
“See what e
lse the technical people can get from them. What did you say April was working on?”
Owen replied, “A cold case. Stolen cars, bloody expensive ones too. None has been recovered. If you recall there was a spate of robberies, about a year ago, they were taken from people’s drives. The gang who did it broke into the houses and took the keys before making off with the cars. It was also believed that some keys had been cloned. We didn’t know if there was a link to an increase in vehicle vandalism at the same time; the vandalism’s started again and the powers that be want it investigated and the perpetrators prosecuted. You can see why pressure has been put on us after a number of cars were vandalised because one of them, can you believe, was a marked police patrol vehicle! Suddenly, with that, there’s a need to see some action and according to the press, If we have all this technology at a cost of millions and still we can’t find petty criminals.... It went on a bit. I’ll show you the cutting. Published when you were away.”
Cyril stood and left the room, indicating to Owen that he was not best pleased.
13
The safety latch was flipped over the top of the flask and the last tendrils of escaping gas dissipated magically around its base. The black quilted blanket was wrapped around the potbelly shaped container. He removed his gloves before rubbing his hands.
He stretched and switched off the extractor fan that had been buzzing in a way that was intrusive but as he flicked the switch all went silent. If only every annoyance were as easy to eliminate, he thought. He lifted the container and placed it alongside the yellow gas detector, the reading now showing normal.
April Richmond drove as Cyril glanced across The Stray.
Within ten minutes they were parked on Victoria Avenue. “You’ve glanced at the file? Baines worked with a Mr Strong. When we’ve interviewed him we have an appointment with Mrs Baines.”
Colin Strong was welcoming and was clearly shocked by Baines’s sudden demise.
“He was absolutely fine. In fact, he’d just had a medical, something to do with an insurance policy. I didn’t realise they did that any more and you’d think I’d know being in this profession.”
“When was that?” Cyril asked.
Colin Strong glanced at the calendar. “Last Wednesday afternoon, one of those private health centres. One thing that did show up was mild arrhythmia, they detected that his heartbeat had a slight irregularity. They assured him that it was only minimal. Suggested he see his GP. They recommended he take Apixaban, a drug to aid blood thinning to prevent the possibility of a stroke. They advised him not to be fobbed off with Warfarin as it needed more monitoring as the drug’s efficacy can be affected by diet.”
Cyril glanced at April who quickly brought up Baines’s medical file on her iPad. There was no reference to the described medical condition. She checked again before turning to Cyril. “Nothing showing.”
“Was he concerned? Had he booked an appointment with his GP?”
“A little, said that his heart rate monitor on his fitbit had been playing up recently and that he wasn’t getting accurate readings. He put it down to the thing being faulty. I tried it and it was fine. Said he’d make an appointment with his GP but whether he did or not, I can’t say.”
“Did he have any other worries, home, financial, this business?”
“Ups and downs at home like all relationships. I can’t answer for his financial state, Detective Chief Inspector, but I can tell you that professionally he was fine. To be honest, we’re struggling at present but we anticipated that when we started the business. We were under no illusion that the first years would be tough but we could never have imagined this.”
He paused as if trying to take control of his emotions. “Can you believe that he’s just landed an account with a large food processing and distribution company out York way. Clear Foods, we’ve been contracted to run a number of Health and Safety lectures and training. He has a good reputation in the industry.” He suddenly stared at Cyril. “Sorry, can’t get it to sink in… had.”
“Was there stiff opposition for that contract?” April asked not lifting her head from her tablet. She had searched for details of the company as he had been speaking and had located it on Google Earth.
“There’s always competition but that’s healthy.”
“What happened to the previous provider of health and safety support, Mr Strong?” April still did not look up from her pad.
Strong appeared to be rather taken aback by her question and the lack of eye contact and the resultant pause made Cyril’s stomach lurch. He glanced at April in admiration. If Cyril had been looking at a pair of sparring boxers he would have seen that one had just landed a body blow of some force.
“Failings.”
“Can you be more specific?”
“They had a snap inspection after an incident, and a number of issues were identified that should have been clearly addressed.”
Cyril just looked at Strong encouraging him to say more.
“Management of forklift trucks and warehousing, dangerous storage concerns, questionable practice regarding water purification, inappropriate organisation and control of the atmosphere and working environment within their freezer area too; that was a major problem for them but as you can see there was quite a list. There was even an issue with safety equipment, and believe me, in this day and age, that should never apply as everyone seems to be wearing Hi-Vis jackets. I’m surprised the army doesn’t have to wear them over their camouflage clothing!”
Cyril simply smiled. “This might sound like a strange question but was the previous health and safety company local?”
“Newcastle based. Been a serious blow to them losing that specific contract; once your reputation is knocked, others might look more closely at their practices. You win some… They were obviously just not good enough and in this game you have to be. Lives can be lost, resulting in compensation claims.”
Cyril felt that churning return to his stomach. “Thanks, Mr Strong.”
Craig Gillan marked each of the three verrucas before bringing the laser towards the foot. A flexible pipe, positioned just above the big toe, provided a strong vacuum that extracted the smoke and aroma of singed flesh away immediately as the laser lit and burned each targeted area.
“I thought you’d have frozen them off, Mr Gillan,” Owen asked. “I spoke to a doctor friend and she told me to get them removed. They were getting a bit sore.”
“We try to keep abreast of technology, Mr Owen, and as you will discover, a laser is far more effective. We did at one time use liquid nitrogen and other cold inert gases. I believe you’re a police officer.”
Owen simply smiled.
“A lot of my patients have been talking about nothing other than the two shootings. You wouldn’t believe the things I hear whilst clipping toenails but these last few days… What you need is a couple of the old ladies I see, they’d have the case cracked and the man hanged from the lamp post on The Stray before afternoon tea. They all think they’re Miss Marple!”
Owen looked directly at the chiropodist eager to put him right but he just remained silent, besides, he wasn’t too sure who Miss Marple was and didn’t want to appear ignorant or stupid.
Within minutes, a large padded dressing was placed on the affected area.
“It might be painful a little later. Please keep the dressing on. I’ll see you next week.”
Owen tentatively put his weight onto his treated foot and felt no sudden discomfort.
He presented his appointment card and paid the bill.
“Good luck with the murders. See you next week.”
April rang the bell. A young woman answered the door.
“Mrs Baines?”
“No, I’m her sister.”
April showed her ID. “We have an appointment to see your sister. Is it still convenient?”
April and Cyril were shown into the lounge. Two children were playing in the corner and the television was on.
“My sister’s l
ittle girl isn’t ready to go back to school what with… anyway I brought my daughter to help normalise things. My little girl was upset for a while.” She smiled as if trying to lift the atmosphere. “I suppose all kids are like that at this age.”
One of the girls, wearing a princess mask that covered only the eyes and forehead and a pair of her mother’s high-heeled shoes, looked round and smiled before returning to the make-believe game they were playing. Mrs Baines came into the room.
“We’ll not disturb the girls. Let’s go into the kitchen.”
April and Cyril followed.
Cyril offered their condolences. It was evident she was dazed by the suddenness of it all and was only there in body. Her eyes were red and dark rings seemed to encase that sadness.
“Are you sure you want to talk to me today, Mrs Baines? This can wait.”
“I’m fine. The sooner it’s done the sooner I can go back to my daughter.”
“Your husband had a recent medical?” Cyril deliberately left the question in the air.
“Yes, he wanted to increase his life cover for the sake of me and Tilly, the house being heavily mortgaged on account of starting up the business. He drives a good deal too and he thought it was wise what with the traffic. You never know what’s round the next corner he always said, and that’s why he insisted we get a Volvo, had it for a few years now, built like a tank according to Bill.” She stopped and hung her head and Cyril watched as April slipped her arm comfortingly around her shoulders. “Probably overly cautious too with the job he’s in.”
Cyril waited until Mrs Baines regained some of her earlier composure. “Did he talk about the results?”
She laughed, a mechanism to mask her deep upset and April could sense that Mrs Baines was right on the edge.
“We can do this again,” she reassured. “There’s no urgency.”
The Third Breath Page 7