by David Carter
They heard her say, ‘Yes, they’re here now. What’s this all about, Miro?’ and they guessed he said something like: ‘I’ll tell you later.’ She put the phone down and came back into the sitting room.
‘It was Miro. He was as evasive as you.’
‘You’ve answered our questions, Mrs Rekatic, thank you,’ said Karen, and they got up and headed for the door.
‘I’m not sure I understand what’s happened here,’ she said, opening the front door.
‘Thanks again,’ said Walter, ‘nothing to it,’ and in the next second they walked away from the house and got in the car.
A couple of minutes later Karen said, ‘That was tricky.’
‘It always is.’
‘Do you think she had a right to know?’
‘Probably, but it’s not down to us to bugger up other people’s marriages.’
‘I think he’s doing a good enough job of that himself.’
‘Yeah, the fool. But I imagine he’ll be in for some tough questioning later.’
‘The least he deserves. Did you believe her?’
‘What, about him being at home at the TOD? Yes, I did. You?’
‘Yes, I did too, unfortunately.’
‘You know what that means, don’t you?’
‘It means he’s innocent of the Belinda Cooper murder, if nothing else, if she’s telling the truth.’
‘The more of them we can rule out, the quicker we can rule someone in.’
‘Yeah, but he’s still in the frame for whatever happened to Ellie Wright.’
‘Maybe we have two separate cases after all.’
‘Could be, so where to now, Guv?’
‘The high school, and Iain Donaldson.’
Walter glanced at the car clock. It was just on noon.
‘Put on the radio,’ he said. ‘See if there is anything on the news.’
She flicked the controls on the steering wheel and the midday news, courtesy of the local radio station, came on.
A woman has been found murdered in Chester in her own home. Police say that she has not yet been identified. Our sources tell us that she was bludgeoned to death with a baseball bat, and some people are already referring to the death as the Baseball Bat Murder. In other news the local MP has called for greater action to help youth unemployment.
‘Turn it off,’ said Walter.
‘Didn’t take long for that to get out.’
‘Indeed,’ said Walter. ‘Inevitable, I suppose, and she wasn’t bludgeoned to death.’
‘No, someone’s got that bit wrong. Who do you think leaked the story?’
‘Could be Ronald Speight, he seemed to relish and deal in lurid gossip.’
‘Possibly, just so long as it isn’t one of the home team. Here we are, the high school,’ and Karen turned right off the main road, and down the long straight approach to the redbrick school. The car park was half empty, and they slid into a space close to the main entrance and jumped out, and headed for the door.
The doors were locked. Maybe not such a surprise, in the twenty-first century. So many schools and churches were no longer operating an open door policy, with constant worries over theft and security. On the wire reinforced glass window within the double doors was a handwritten note.
Will all visitors please ring the bell and wait.
Walter rang the bell, and waited.
A couple of minutes later a frumpy middle-aged woman came to the door. She half smiled, opened up and said, ‘Can I help you?’
Karen flashed ID and did the intros.
‘We just need a quick word with Iain Donaldson, nothing important, just routine.’
‘You’ve picked a good time, he’s on his lunch, I’ll show you through.’
They went along a long corridor, turned right, another twenty yards or so, or was it metres these days, thought Walter, and knocked on a door on the left, and opened up without waiting to be invited.
There was just the one person in the office, studying a quality newspaper, whilst munching on a decent looking beef sandwich. He glanced up at the unusual visitors.
‘Iain,’ said Miss Frumpiness. ‘These two people would like a quick word, they are police officers, I have seen their ID.’
‘Police?’ said Iain. Standing up. Slim guy, short dark hair, noted Karen, six feet’ish. ‘Nothing wrong is there?’
‘Well, yes and no,’ said Walter, pulling out a canvas and tubular steel chair, and sitting down, as Karen studied the information on the notice board. ‘It’s about Belinda Cooper.’
‘Bel? What about her?’
‘She’s been murdered.’
‘What!’
‘It’s true, I am afraid. And you knew her well, I believe?’
‘Yes, I did, we were.... for a short while....’
‘Lovers?’ suggested Karen.
Iain nodded and said, ‘Yes, I had hoped that it might have gone on from there.’
‘But she met Gareth Williams and promptly finished with you,’ said Walter. ‘That must have been hard.’
‘Now hold on a minute....’
Karen jumped in. ‘Where were you between midnight and 2am on....’ and she gave the date of death.
‘At home in bed.’
‘And where is home?’
‘I have a new flat in the city,’ and he gave an address and it wasn’t a million miles from Karen’s pad.
‘Can anyone confirm that?’ asked Walter.
‘Thankfully, yes. My new fiancé, I only proposed to her two weeks ago. She was with me.’
‘And your fiancé’s name is....’ said Walter, pen at the ready.
‘Andrea Dennehey.’
‘Thanks for that,’ said Walter. ‘We have it on good authority that Belinda Cooper only ever had five boyfriends.’
‘She was indeed very selective,’ said Donaldson, happy to give himself a backhanded compliment. ‘I can’t believe she’s dead. It’s a big shock.’
Walter gave the guy a moment. ‘You, Gareth, a guy called Ronny Speight, a bloke named Marcus, who apparently turned out to be bi-sexual.’
‘Was he! I didn’t know that.’
‘Nothing to worry about,’ said Karen. ‘So I’m told. Blood tests aplenty. All in the clear.’
‘So who was mister number five?’ asked Walter.
Iain shook his head and said, ‘Search me. I’ve no idea.’
‘Do you know anyone who might have wanted to harm Miss Cooper?’
‘Certainly not. She was a very likeable person, and a popular woman too, I’d still be with her now, but for....’
‘Quite,’ said Walter. ‘Do you know a girl called Ellie Wright?’
‘No. Should I?’
‘No matter. What size shoes do you take?’
‘Ten, why?’
‘Do you drive a car?’ asked Karen.
‘Course I do, who doesn’t?’
‘Model?’
‘New Cayton Cerisa, got a better job here, thought I’d get a better car. Andrea loves it.’
‘Did you kill Belinda Cooper?’ asked Karen.
‘Course not! What do you take me for?’
‘I’d rather you didn’t leave town,’ said Walter.
‘I have no intention of leaving town.’
‘That’s good. Thank you for your help.’
They retreated to the door and down the corridors and through the main doors and out into the dank November air, and back to the car.
Sitting quiet for a moment, Karen said, ‘That’s interesting.’
‘What is?’
‘I know Andrea Dennehey.’
‘Do you? How?’
‘I charged her when you were away on that canal boat holiday.’
‘I thought I’d never heard the name before. Charged her with what?’
‘That’s the interesting thing, Guv.’
‘Go on.’
‘Affray, and GBH.’
Twenty-Six
Earlier that morning DCs Darren Gibson and Hector Brow
ne paid another visit to Michael Flanagan’s modern townhouse in Christleton. They half expected to find him out and away at work, but he was there, and not in the best of moods.
‘Don’t you people ever leave hardworking folk alone?’
‘Just a few more questions, nothing too demanding,’ said Gibbons smiling, hoping to win the guy over.
‘Can we come in?’ added Hector. ‘You don’t want the whole world to know your business.’
Flanagan scowled and stood to one side and the detectives went inside.
‘No work today?’ said Gibbons.
‘Everyone is entitled to a day off.’
Gibbons sat down and glanced around.
Hector stood in the lounge doorway, observing.
‘Nice place you have.’
‘Do we have to go into all that again? What exactly do you want?’
‘You’re tagged?’ said Gibbons.
‘I am,’ and he lifted his trouser bottoms a tad, revealing the technology.
‘We don’t think it’s working,’ said Hector.
‘What gave you that idea?’
‘Just a theory that Hector has.’
‘Well, it’s news to me, no one has said anything.’
Hector wandered into the small kitchen, took a look around.
‘Do you have a computer?’ asked Gibbons.
‘Yeah, course I do, who doesn’t?’
‘And I’ll bet you’re something of a whiz on it?’
Flanagan grinned, happy to accept a compliment.
‘I guess. I know a bit, that’s for sure,’ and he glanced over his shoulder and saw that Hector was missing. ‘What’s he doing in there?’
‘Just getting a glass of water, I should think. He suffers from dry throat syndrome. Have you cracked the coding on the tag?’
‘What?’
Hector returned and said, ‘You heard him, Michael. We think you are one clever bastard when it comes to computers, and you’ve cracked the coding on the tag, enabling you to take it off without central control realising it.’
‘I wish.’
‘Did you go out last night?’ asked Gibbons.
‘Course not, you can check.’
‘Ah, but can we though?’ said Hector. ‘That’s the whole point.’
‘Not sure I understand what you are getting at.’
‘Did you go out on the night of....’ said Gibbons, adding the date of the Belinda Cooper murder.
‘Ah! I see. I get you. You’re trying to fit me up for that baseball bat murder thing because you can’t find the real culprit.’
‘No,’ said Hector. ‘We are trying to ascertain if you are slipping out undetected, because I for one, think that is precisely what you are doing.’
‘You’re heading up a blind alley.’
‘No, we’re not,’ said Hector. ‘You are.’
‘How do you do it?’ asked Gibbons. ‘You can tell me, I’m impressed.’
‘Do what?’
‘Fool the system.’
‘I’m not fooling the system.’
‘If we were to examine your computer,’ said Hector. ‘And took a look at the browsing history, I reckon that would tell us a lot.’
‘Can we see your computer?’ asked Gibbons.
‘Not without a warrant.’
‘You’re out on licence, aren’t you?’ said Hector.
‘You know I am.’
‘It only takes a word,’ said Gibbons, ‘from the boss, and you’d be back inside before your feet could touch.’
Flanagan stared at the police officers and said coldly, ‘You are not looking at my computer.’
Hector and Gibbons shared a look.
Hector pulled a face. Gibbons shrugged his shoulders.
‘Your choice, Mr Flanagan,’ said Hector, and the detectives made their way to the front door, Flanagan following.
Hector leant over and whispered, ‘Crash coding, is it?’
‘What?’
‘We’re on to you.’
‘I have no idea what you are talking about.’
Hector nodded and the officers ambled outside and jumped in the car.
‘What the hell’s crash coding?’
‘I have no idea,’ said Hector laughing. ‘But it sure sounded good.’
Gibbons laughed too.
‘You’re mad. Still think he’d fiddling with the tag?’
‘Course he is.’
‘Why are you so sure?’
‘One thing I have learnt to do in this job is to spot liars, and he’s lying about something.’
‘Well if he is, he could be our man.’
‘That’s what I reckon. Where to now?’ said Hector, firing up the engine.
‘The pubs. Guv wants us to ID the drug dealer.’
‘Oh yeah, forgot all about that.’
Walter sat back hard in the car seat and said, ‘Tell me all about Andrea Dennehey.’
‘Hard woman, in more ways than one,’ said Karen.
‘Tell me more.’
‘Mutton dressed as pilchard.’
Walter guffawed.
‘She goes to the same gym as I do. She’s there every day. Does the running machine, and weights. She’s slim, toned, and strong.’
‘Go on.’
‘She’s been on the lookout for a husband for ages. Everyone knows that. She’ll eat Iain Donaldson alive; he won’t know what hits him. Don’t get me wrong, Guv, she’s attractive enough, pretty face, shoulder length auburn hair, but her soul is as cold as hell.’
‘I gather from that, you don’t like her.’
‘I can see right through her. Her whole life is an act. She’s a fraud.’
‘What was she done for?’
‘Affray and GBH.’
‘I know that! So you said. Details of the case?’
‘Oh right, I’m with you. She beat up two women in a nightclub lav. Broke one girl’s nose, cut the other one’s eye.’
‘What did she get?’
‘Big fine, and fifty hours community service.’
‘She was lucky to get that.’
‘She damn well was. The magistrate said she was lucky the case didn’t go up to the Crown Court, which on another day it would have done. He gave her some benefit of the doubt, said something about it being two onto one, and that Andrea pleaded self defence, saying the other two kicked it off, and there was some doubt as to who was telling the truth.’
‘Do we know what the row was all about?’
‘The usual, Guv, over a man she’d taken a fancy to, and they were making eyes at, another potential husband, I reckon.’
‘Do you think she’s capable of murdering Belinda Cooper?’
‘Certain of it, Guv. She’s tall and very strong, you should see her on the weights, obsessed by it, she is. She could snap a neck like a chocolate bar, I kid you not.’
‘And she’ll give Iain an alibi, and he will do the same for her.’
‘For sure.’
‘So we have another one to add to the list.’
‘The list?’
‘Of suspects.’
‘Yep, we do.’
‘I think we need to find out a whole lot more about Andrea Dennehey.’
‘That we do, Guv, that we do.’
‘Come on, let’s get back to the station, I want to get something to eat.’
‘Good idea, and I want to find out how we are progressing with analysing the Mirror man’s phone.’
‘And Belinda’s technology too, we should be inside that by now.’
‘Yeah, that too, there could be all sorts of intel in there.’
Karen booted up the car and pointed it at the city centre, and back to base, and a busy afternoon in the land of secrets and lies that always sleeps and hides in all modern tech.
Jenny and Nicky were already back at their desks, frustrated at making little progress, unable to break Jimmy Crocker’s alibi, unable to contact Derek Nesbitt, who’d gone away for a few day’s fishing.
Twenty-S
even
Walter popped out for ten minutes to visit his favourite purveyor of sandwiches where he picked up two hot beef rolls and a chocolate muffin. Sometimes comfort food truly had its place, he reassured himself, though could he restrict his visits in future? Karen remained at her desk and gnawed on a hard green apple and a packet of almost as hard low fat crisps.
She was scrolling through Miro’s many phone calls. Like so many others he sure as hell used his tech to the max. Hundreds of logged calls, text messages, and voicemails, but nothing that looked out of place, nothing that caught her eye, nothing that incriminated the man, no matter how hard she looked.
The cute young guy from the Tech department came in and hustled up to her desk and grinned and said, ‘Belinda Cooper’s computer and phone?’
‘Yeah?’ said Karen. ‘What about it?’
‘All open and readable.’
‘About time too.’
‘Don’t you start.’
‘What took you so long?’
‘Got hung up on a big regional job from Manchester. Three local Uni’s in big trouble.’
‘Oh?’
‘Yeah.... you know, that ransom scam.’
‘Meaning?’
‘Big time cyber crime. They hack into the Uni’s mainframes and lock everyone else out, then demand a big ransom to free up and allow access to the data again. It’s becoming quite common, and bloody difficult to break. Looks like it’s based in Romania, or Bulgaria, one of them places, but it’s cloaked so many times it’s almost impossible to track down, and to make it worse they constantly shift things around.’
‘Was the ransom paid?’
‘Oh no, we got lucky. Cracked it wide open. No sweat. Do you want Belinda Cooper’s gear?’
‘Yeah, set it down there,’ and he plonked it on the side of Karen’s desk.
‘What’s the password?’
‘Highfive555.’
‘That didn’t sound so difficult to work out.’
‘They never do when you know the answers. Bloody difficult when you don’t.’
‘Thanks,’ she said, thinking about Highfive555.
Belinda Cooper sure seemed hung up on that number.
‘No probs, glad to be of service,’ and he smirked and scuttled off back to the tech lair, wherever that was currently located.
Bulgaria or Romania? She thought. Where was the Mirror man from again? Serbia, didn’t he say? How far was that from Bulgaria and Romania? Just a coincidence maybe, thought Karen, but like most of the members of the team, she didn’t believe in coincidences, for they often pointed the way forward. Maybe worth remembering. Sometimes whole cases fell open like a ripe sweet chestnut on such morsels. She glanced across the office at Jenny and Nick.