Dead Nasty

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Dead Nasty Page 17

by Helen H. Durrant


  “How long will that take? The roads are so busy at that time.”

  “We have to try, Julian. At the moment, it’s all we’ve got.”

  Julian stood up. “I’ll make us some coffee.”

  “Good idea. Make mine strong, Julian, and no milk.”

  * * *

  A couple of hours later, Rocco had tracked Imogen’s car as far as Circle Road. “Three of the cameras on the High Street were out from six last night for maintenance. I’ve had a look at all the roads that lead away from the nick. But here she is at five past seven.”

  Calladine shook his head. “Where was she going? That is in the opposite direction from where you live, Julian.”

  Rocco was still gazing at the screen. “She must have driven round by the common because after that, I lose her.”

  “It has to be something connected to the case. She’s not going to the supermarket, wrong direction. Neither has she turned off for the Hobfield,” Calladine said.

  “St James’s church is that way.”

  Rocco was right. “In that case, that’s where we’ll start.”

  “I’m coming with you, Tom.” Julian put down his cup.

  “It’s five in the morning,” Calladine said, checking the time.

  “I don’t care. If Imogen went there and she has not returned, the place should be searched.”

  Calladine doubted he could organise that. They had no evidence. All they’d done was trace her movements and apply a little logic. “We three will go and take a look. But we will have to be careful. We could be entirely wrong. Imogen may have gone somewhere else.”

  Suddenly the office phone rang, startling them all, given the time. It was the duty sergeant downstairs on the desk. “We have had a report in of a burnt-out car, sir. It was found the other side of the common by a couple of PCSOs. I thought you should know straight away, as the car is registered to DC Imogen Goode.”

  “Any sign of her?”

  “No, sir, the car was empty.”

  Calladine looked at the others. “Her car’s been found — burnt out. It was empty,” he added quickly.

  Julian was already on his mobile to the Duggan. “Early as it is, I’ll get a team down there right away. There could still be some forensic evidence at the site.”

  “Julian, why don’t you go with your team and Rocco and I will go to the church. If we find anything, you’ll be the first to know.”

  * * *

  Rocco and Calladine sped towards St James’s in the car.

  “What do you think, guv?” Rocco asked.

  “Imogen knows the ropes, the dangers of the job. I just hope she’s not done anything stupid. Got herself into a situation. What I don’t understand is why she didn’t leave a message,” Calladine replied.

  “Of course it might be something completely unconnected. Her phone might have died. Her car could have broken down, and kids got hold of it.”

  Calladine managed a small smile. “How likely is all that, Rocco? But for now, we’ll stay hopeful. Until we know the truth, it’s all we can do.”

  The vicarage and Donnelly’s cottage were both in darkness. Calladine parked the car outside the main gate. He and Rocco would take a walk around and see if they could spot anything unusual.

  Rocco frowned. “Why would she come here in the first place? Donnelly was no longer in the frame. Imogen knew that.”

  “Perhaps she got some new information. She might have wanted to check something in that diary of his. Any number of things could have brought her here.”

  A few yards down the main drive, a large patch of shingle had been scraped away. The bare earth looked like a huge scar in an otherwise neat drive.

  Calladine squatted down for a closer look. “What happened here, I wonder? This hasn’t been caused by a speeding car. It’s been deliberately removed. There’s a pile of the stuff over there on the grass.” He walked across to it. The gravel had been heaped up. Calladine bent down and picked up a handful of it. His stomach lurched. “There is blood on these stones, Rocco.” The blood on the top layer had dried, but when he dug deeper, it was still wet, and some got on his hand. This didn’t look good. “That’s why they’ve been taken from the drive. Whoever did this probably means to get rid today.” Someone had suffered a serious injury here, or had been attacked. So where were they?

  Rocco came up beside him, an evidence bag in his hand. Calladine dropped a handful of the gravel into it. “We need that testing immediately.” He looked at Rocco. The young man’s eyes were wet with tears.

  “She’s been hurt, hasn’t she, guv?”

  Calladine patted his shoulder. “We don’t know for sure. We don’t even know that Imogen came here. Get on to the hospital. See if they had anyone in last night that could be a possible for whoever this blood belongs to. I’ll tell Julian, and arrange for the shingle to be taken to the Duggan. You ring for backup. We will make this official. I want a search doing — now!”

  * * *

  Later that morning, Ruth entered the incident room. “Where is everyone?” she asked Joyce.

  “They are all out looking for Imogen. She’s missing.”

  “Missing? How? What’s happened?”

  “She left here yesterday and never arrived home. Calladine, Rocco and Julian were here in the early hours, working. They got a call about a burnt-out car and left. The inspector is having St James’s taken apart.”

  Ruth shook her head. “I’ve only been gone one night. Why St James’s anyway?”

  “I’m not sure, but that’s where they are.”

  “And Robert Clarke?”

  Joyce shrugged. “No one has said anything about him.”

  Ruth fished her mobile from her bag and rang Calladine. “Have you found her?”

  “No, and with every passing hour it’s looking bleaker. I’m still at the vicarage. Livings is doing his nut. We found blood on the shingle that covers the drive, a lot of blood, Ruth. Until someone explains that, I’m not leaving. We’ve checked the hospital and they’ve had no one in from here with injuries.”

  Ruth closed her eyes and groaned. She remembered Imogen’s phone call from yesterday. She’d not been in the mood for listening after the Dawn Heywood incident. Everything the DC had told her had gone out of her mind. But now it was back.

  “Imogen got a note from that young PC Hallam,” she told Calladine. “He saw a router at the vicarage. I can only think that she went round there to ask about it. I wasn’t much help. I was fed up by then. I told her to tell you.”

  “And I was busy with Clarke,” Calladine added grimly. “I think you’re right. I think Imogen came here and got involved in something she couldn’t handle.”

  “I should have done something. Rung you myself. Insisted she leave it. But I didn’t. The way I was feeling, it went in one ear and out the other.”

  “You weren’t to know, Ruth.”

  “No excuse. She needed advice. She’s only a DC for goodness sake. You have to find her, Tom. If you don’t, I’ll never be able to forgive myself.”

  Ruth put her head in her hands. This was dreadful. She could have prevented this from happening. “I’ll have to go down there. I can’t sit here imagining all sorts,” she told Joyce.

  “I’ll tell . . . Who do I tell?” Joyce threw her hands in the air. “Birch isn’t here and DI Long isn’t back off leave yet.”

  Ruth grabbed her things. “Tell Thorpe for now.”

  It didn’t take long to reach the church. Calladine had the entire area taped off — the church, the grounds including the graveyard, and of course the vicarage and Donnelly’s cottage.

  She spotted Craig Donnelly tending to a flower-bed. As Ruth watched, she saw him glance furtively at the search team. She wondered what he was afraid of. Her heart was racing. She could have prevented all this by acting on the information from PC Hallam herself. She wanted to cry. Imogen was young, with everything in front of her. If the girl had been injured, Ruth would be devastated. Ruth took a deep breath. She h
ad a job to do. Emotion had to go on the back burner until they’d found Imogen. “Donnelly!” she called out.

  He scowled at her. “I’ve already spoken to your mates. Couldn’t tell them anything so you can bugger off!”

  “Then you must know that we’re looking for a colleague.” He said nothing. “You know what that means, Craig. We’ll keep digging until we find something. We won’t let up. This is one of our own we’re looking for, so we’ll leave no stone unturned.”

  “Nowt to say.”

  Ruth looked around. “You know these grounds. Where would you hide someone?”

  “Get lost. I don’t know nothing about no missing copper.”

  “In that case, tell me about the router.”

  “It isn’t mine. I’ve no idea what it’s doing there.”

  “Okay, Craig, I’ll ask Livings. I’m sure he’ll want to help.” Ruth walked away towards the vicarage. She was stopped by PC Nigel Hallam.

  “Has she turned up yet?”

  “No. It was you who gave DC Goode the information that sent her here,” Ruth said.

  The PC’s face fell. “I thought your team should know. I didn’t think she’d come here on her own.”

  “I’m sorry — you’re right. Imogen told me about the note you sent up. It was up to me to sort it, but I didn’t.”

  “I hope you don’t mind but when I discovered there is a router here, I did some research myself.”

  “Come on then, what else have you got for us?”

  His face brightened. This one’s keen alright, thought Ruth.

  “When he was inside, Donnelly did a computing course. He was good. Even learned how to program. He got plenty of extra tuition too. His cellmate was an expert — he’d made a fortune selling guns on the dark web.”

  That was interesting. Donnelly had told them he knew nothing about computers. Ruth smiled at the young PC. She was impressed. “Thanks. That is valuable information. We did ask, but were only told about his religious studies. No one told us he studied computing.”

  “It was only a short course. I’d imagine what he learned from his cellmate was far more valuable.”

  “How did you discover this, PC er . . . ?” Ruth wasn’t sure of his name.

  He smiled. “PC Nigel Hallam.”

  “So who is your informant, Nigel? Because there isn’t much in Donnelly’s record.”

  “I have an uncle in the prison service. He did a stint at Strangeways, ma’am.”

  Ruth smiled. “Please don’t call me ma’am. Makes me feel so old!”

  He flushed. “Sorry. If I’m stepping on toes, please tell me. I didn’t think anyone would mind me fishing around. I want to join CID one day.”

  “I’m sure you’ll make an excellent detective, Nigel. Do you want to come with me while I interview Livings?”

  * * *

  Rocco nudged him. “Phone, guv.”

  Calladine hadn’t heard it. He was dead on his feet. The caller was Julian.

  Calladine spoke straight away, “Sorry, we’ve not found anything yet.”

  “I thought you should know that no prints belonging to Robert Clarke have been found in the bakery. On the door, and in the corridor leading to the upstairs flat, yes. But nowhere else.”

  “So he’s never been in there? Of course, he could have worn gloves,” Calladine said.

  “His prints were not on any of the items we removed either.”

  “So we’ve got nothing on him?”

  Julian went on. “However, we do have other prints, Tom. Those of Craig Donnelly and Liam Peach. Both have records, so their prints are on file. Donnelly’s are more extensive, they’re all over everything. Peach’s are mostly on the door.”

  That threw Calladine. He was so tired he was struggling to work it out. “So I was right. This is down to Donnelly?”

  “Possibly.”

  “But if that is so, why leave earrings smeared with your own blood for us to find?”

  “I can’t answer that.”

  “Anything on the blood on the shingle?”

  Julian’s voice was flat. “It’s still being processed. I will hear within the hour. I’ll keep you posted.” He rang off.

  “Donnelly’s prints are all over that cellar, also Peachy’s. We’ll have to talk to them again,” Calladine called over to Rocco.

  “Donnelly is working outside in the garden, guv.”

  “Let’s see what he has to say for himself.”

  But Donnelly wasn’t there. The wheelbarrow and tools he’d been using lay abandoned on the grass.

  “We have to find him. We’ll do a circuit of the place.”

  Moments later they spotted Donnelly walking towards a small van parked by the side gate. He was carrying a holdall.

  Rocco sprinted after him, calling back, “I think he’s doing a runner!”

  Calladine came up behind him just as Rocco grabbed his arm. “Going somewhere?” Calladine growled.

  Donnelly smirked. “Jobs to do. You’ve seen how packed my diary is.”

  Calladine shook his head. “The only place you’re going now is down to the station.”

  Donnelly’s smile had little humour in it. “I’d be careful. Livings says he’ll get me a top notch brief if you drag me in again. So do your worst, copper. You’ve got nothing on me.”

  “That’s where you’re wrong, Craig. We’ve got a shedload of stuff. Adams bakery mean anything to you?”

  The colour drained from Donnelly’s face. He began to struggle against Rocco’s grip. “No!”

  “I think it does, Craig. Your prints are all over it.”

  “It’s a mistake. I’m being set up. You’ve got it all wrong, just like before!”

  “I’m willing to take that risk.” Calladine beckoned to a couple of uniforms. “Take him to the station and lock him up until I get there.”

  Calladine inhaled deeply. Surely Donnelly couldn’t get out of it this time. He would have to talk to Livings. The vicarage door was ajar and Calladine heard Ruth’s voice. She was arguing with Livings.

  “What are you two doing here?” Calladine asked, nodding at Nigel Hallam.

  “Same as you. Looking for Imogen,” Ruth told him. “She came here last night to check out what PC Hallam had told her.”

  “Oh? What was that?”

  “There is a router here. In that cabinet to be precise.”

  Livings stepped forward. “I didn’t see the young lady. I was taking choir practice at the community centre. I didn’t get back here until about nine.”

  “What was Donnelly doing during that time?” asked Calladine.

  “I’ve no idea.”

  Ruth pointed towards the cabinet. “This router is plugged in and working. You have a computer, and access to the internet.”

  “No, I’ve told you. I do not,” Livings insisted.

  “Donnelly?”

  “He says not.”

  Calladine shook his head. “He tells lies, vicar.”

  “Do you mind if we look around?” Ruth asked.

  Livings shrugged.

  PC Hallam knelt down by the cabinet and removed the router. His elbow jogged the Digibox, almost sending it to the floor. He carefully lifted it out. It wasn’t connected. “You don’t use this?”

  “I hardly watch TV,” Livings confirmed.

  “This comes as part of a package. So why go for it, if all you use is the telephone?”

  “I think it was Craig’s idea. He organised it when he first came to live here. Said he was going to drag me into the present day.” Livings smiled.

  PC Hallam looked up. “There must be a computer hidden somewhere, probably a small laptop.”

  “I’d like a rundown of your daily routine, vicar. Times of the day when you’re out of this building and Donnelly has access to that.” Calladine nodded at the router.

  “Early morning I’m in church for about an hour. Again in the afternoon, and of course, on a Sunday I hardly get a minute.”

  “That fits,” Ruth s
aid.

  Calladine shook his head. “The problem is we have to find it. We’ve searched that cottage twice now and found nothing.”

  Livings looked at him. “Perhaps because there is nothing to find, Inspector. Despite what you’re telling me, I still believe that Craig is a changed man.”

  “Craig is as guilty as sin. Tell me — Adams’s bakery. What does that building have to do with you?” Calladine scoffed.

  “Jack Adams is one of my parishioners. He’s very old, sick, and currently being nursed in a care home. He was trying to sell the property, but it’s in a bad way.”

  “Have you ever been there?” asked Calladine.

  “No. The bakery has been locked up for years. No one goes there. It’s unsafe. Leesdon Council will put a compulsory purchase order on it before long. In the meantime, I have custody of the keys.”

  “You keep the keys here?”

  “Yes, of course. They are kept on a hook in the kitchen along with the others.”

  “Unsafe or not, there is a tenant in the flat upstairs.”

  “I organised that for Jack. The rent helps with his fees.”

  “Aren’t there rules about the state of a property which you let out? That place must be breaking them all.” Ruth was astonished that he would let part of a building he admitted was dangerous.

  “The young man was new to the area and couldn’t find anywhere else. He was really desperate, and he gave a generous deposit. Why are you so interested in the place, Inspector? I did warn Mr Clarke about the downstairs rooms. I told him not to go near them. It’s the floor that’s the problem you see. There is a cellar. The beams that hold up the floor above it have rotted away to almost nothing.”

  “We found two missing girls imprisoned in there. Plus, we believe it’s where Elsa Ramsden and Megan Heywood were killed.”

  “That can’t be true. Who would do such a thing?” The vicar appeared to reflect on this for a moment. “I am willing to help, of course, but I must insist that this thing with Craig stops immediately.”

  Calladine shook his head. “Won’t happen, I’m afraid. You see, vicar, his prints are all over that bakery.”

  Chapter 23

  “We’ve searched everywhere. There is no sign of Imogen. Or of any damned laptop,” Ruth said despondently.

 

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