Where the Innocent Die

by Where the Innocent Die (retail) (epub)

  ‘It would also help to have the guard’s movements. What time they tapped their cards against the various readers.’

  ‘Already asked for the information. She said she would dig it up and get back to me.’

  ‘I thought they would have had that information immediately available.’

  ‘It surprised me too. Lucy also tried to quiz me regarding our investigation.’

  ‘I hope you told her nothing.’

  ‘I said less. And anyway, it’s the truth, you never let me know what you’re thinking.’

  It was a common complaint from his wife too. ‘If I’m honest, I’m not thinking too much at the moment, just gathering evidence. I see our first step is to work out whether this was a suicide or not.’

  ‘And?’

  ‘I don’t know.’

  ‘What did Dr Schofield say?’

  ‘He’s being cautious. He’s found something but not telling me yet. Perhaps he will be more definite after he receives the toxicology results.’

  ‘Sounds like a pathologist, always playing their cards close to their chest. It reminds me of a joke at Uni. How many pathologists does it take to remove a light bulb?’

  Ridpath shrugged his shoulders. ‘I give up.’

  ‘None, they’re still waiting for the test results.’ She smiled at him. ‘It’s not funny I know, but if you were a nineteen-year-old student who’d just finished her first ever dissection of a human body, it was hilarious.’

  ‘I can imagine. But to take your mind off the dissection of dead people, I suggest you get on with viewing these tapes. Eliminate the ones of no use and check the rest.’

  Her eyes glanced at the tapes and back to Ridpath. ‘OK,’ she mumbled.

  ‘Also call the IRC. The man in Room 9, Liang Xiao Wen, was sent to…’

  ‘Halverson, near Leicester.’

  ‘That’s it. Find out all you can about him: what he did, why he was detained, et cetera, et cetera…’

  ‘OK.’

  Ridpath walked towards Mrs Challinor’s office. ‘Oh, and ring Dr Schofield to find out exactly when we can expect his findings and the toxicology results. Impress on him the urgency of the request.’

  Sophia’s eyes brightened. ‘Will do,’ she said.

  Chapter 26

  Ridpath tapped on the coroner’s door and walked straight in.

  Margaret Challinor was on the phone. ‘Yes, I agree, it won’t happen again, but you must understand I have requested an investigation into a death in Her Majesty’s custody and nothing must stand in the way. The company was being deliberately obstructive and that is why my officer acted as he did.’

  She glanced at Ridpath and motioned for him to sit.

  The coroner was now holding the phone away from her ear. Ridpath could hear a tinny male voice coming from the loudspeaker. It did not sound happy.

  ‘Fine, I understand. Thank you for your time and your advice.’ She put the phone down and ran her fingers through her hair. ‘That was the Ministry of Justice. Apparently, New Hampshire Detention Services have made a complaint to them regarding your behaviour, Ridpath.’

  ‘Have they?’

  ‘According to them you were, and I quote “rude, overbearing and threatening in your manner” and “arrogant and insolent” in your requests. What do you have to say for yourself?’

  ‘It’s probably true. But they were being deliberately obstructive.’

  ‘They disagree. In fact, they said, they sent over everything you requested and more. “They are totally committed to the inquest, believing it will absolve them of any responsibility for the death of Wendy Tang aka Wendy Chen Hong Xi.”’

  So that was their game, thought Ridpath. ‘At least they got the woman’s name correct. It’s the oldest trick in the book: flood an inquiry with lots of useless bumf so they can’t find what they are looking for. Wastes time and energy as well as allowing these shits to claim they have been co-operating to the fullest degree.’

  The coroner was silent for a moment. ‘I agree. This call ups the ante, they are ramping up the pressure on us. What have you found out so far?’

  ‘No much, I’m afraid. Dr Schofield is still sitting on the fence until he gets results back from the tests. He’s not certain whether it was suicide or something else…’

  ‘Something else?’

  ‘Could be murder. I think he’s found something but he’s not telling me what it is… yet.’

  ‘Waiting for test results and toxicology?’

  Ridpath raised his eyebrows. ‘How did you know?’

  ‘I heard you speaking to Sophia.’

  ‘Anyway, we should get the results tomorrow. New Hampshire have dumped a library of documents on us.’

  ‘I saw. They’re blocking the hallway and Carol Oates is complaining.’

  ‘When is she not complaining?’

  ‘Just work with Jenny to move them. They are a fire hazard anyway.’

  ‘Sophia is going through the boxes looking for information but it’s like searching for intelligent life in Liverpool.’

  ‘You met the officer from the original investigation?’

  ‘The SIO was Detective Sergeant Ronald Barnes. Just three months away from retirement. After the complaint to Professional Standards, you’re not his favourite person.’

  ‘I’ll survive.’

  Ridpath’s forehead creased with a frown. ‘I’ve been thinking about his report. It wasn’t a thorough investigation, but I can’t be sure whether it was laziness, incompetence or he just assumed Wendy Chen committed suicide and made the facts fit this assumption. Dr Ahmed, the original pathologist, seems to have thought exactly the same.’

  ‘The assumptions determining the outcome?’

  ‘Exactly, from the Removal Centre to the police and the pathologist…’

  ‘It was just another detainee who committed suicide. I’ve been doing research since our last meeting. Guess how many suicide attempts there were in Removal Centres in 2015?’

  ‘Why 2015?’

  ‘It’s the latest figures I can find. The government is never keen on releasing these kind of stats.’

  Ridpath shrugged his shoulders.

  ‘393. In the same period, 2957 detainees were on suicide watch, including eleven children.’

  ‘Eleven children? But don’t those figures make it even more likely Wendy Chen did commit suicide?’

  ‘But we have to be certain, Ridpath. It’s our job and we owe it to the family.’

  ‘Well, Dr Schofield isn’t certain and there are some aspects of the death worrying me.’

  ‘Like?’

  ‘I don’t know. Too many questions, I think, too many unknowns. For example, the victim made a call to Rowley police station twelve hours before she died.’

  ‘Who did she speak to?’

  Ridpath shrugged his shoulders again. ‘That’s what I need to find out. Plus there’s the victim herself. We know nothing about her. Why was she detained? What was she doing here? Where did she live? Was she right- or left-handed?’

  ‘Why is the last one important?’

  ‘Something the pathologist said I need to follow up. And finally, there’s one possible witness who may have heard what happened and is still in the country. All the rest have been deported already.’

  ‘And he is?’

  ‘Liang Xiao Wen, sent to Halverson IRC. Sophia is trying to find out about him. I hope to God he hasn’t been deported too.’

  ‘Sounds like you have a lot to do.’

  ‘And not much time to do it. I need more help, Mrs Challinor. Sophia is brilliant but she’s just one person.’

  ‘You’ve got all the resources I have, Ridpath.’

  ‘Can you postpone the inquest?’

  ‘Not possible. The family have confirmed they want to take Wendy Chen’s body back with them to China after the inquest. They are already here in Manchester, Ridpath.’

  Ridpath stared at the ground in front of him. There was just too much to do.

&
nbsp; ‘I’m meeting them tomorrow at 1 p.m. I’d like you to be there.’

  ‘I don’t know if I have the time, Mrs Challinor.’

  ‘You could ask them about their daughter…’

  Rather than spend years going through files, it would be a shortcut. ‘One p.m.?’

  ‘I’ll let you know later if it changes.’ Mrs Challinor stared at him. ‘Do you want me to call Claire Trent and ask for her help?’

  ‘Not yet, let’s wait for the post-mortem results. We need something more concrete than your suspicions and my questions if we are to involve MIT. You know, if they get involved they may ask you to postpone the inquest under Schedule 1 of the 2009 act.’

  ‘I’ll take the risk. If a senior police officer requests a postponement, I am obliged to suspend the inquest for 28 days, but GMP won’t want to be put under the spotlight if they screwed up an inquiry, not with the iOPS scandal flooding the papers and a visit from Her Majesties Inspectorate of Police due in November.’

  ‘You are well informed.’

  ‘I make it my business, Ridpath.’

  Ridpath paused for a moment. ‘I was talking to an old mate last week, he said the iOPS scandal is worse than it is being reported. They’ve lost thousands of files of data and are now having to input it manually. Overtime rates are soaring…’

  ‘And not because they are investigating crimes. So Ridpath, what are your next steps?’

  ‘Visit Wendy Chen’s last known address in Chinatown and the UK Immigration Enforcement offices in Salford afterwards if I have time. I want to know why she was arrested in the first place. And why the hurry to deport her.’

  ‘A lot to do.’

  ‘Coroner, there is another problem. If Dr Schofield finds Wendy Chen didn’t commit suicide but was murdered, it opens up a whole can of worms, starting with one question. Why?’

  ‘Why what?’

  ‘Why murder her? She was due to be deported that day. Why go to the trouble of killing her? Even more, why do it in one of the most secure places in Manchester?’

  ‘Remember, it is not our job to discover why, just to work out the how, the when and the who.’

  ‘But unless I know why, I won’t be able to understand the rest, Mrs Challinor.’

  She stared at him for a long while before saying, ‘I understand, but the focus of your investigation should be what happened to Wendy Chen and how we can stop it happening again. Clear, Ridpath?’

  He stood up. ‘Thanks for reminding me,’ he said as he walked to the door, stopping as the coroner called his name.

  ‘And Ridpath, try not to annoy too many people… unless it’s really necessary.’

  ‘Of course, Coroner.’

  Before he could leave, there was a knock on the door and Sophia walked in. ‘Sorry for disturbing you both, but I thought Ridpath would like to see this.’

  ‘What is it Sophia?’

  ‘I’ve just got off the phone with Halverson IRC. They said Liang Xiao Wen was released back into the community a week ago. You’ll never guess where his community is?’

  Ridpath shook his head.

  ‘Here, in Manchester. He has to sign in at 6 p.m. every night at Cheadle Heath police station.’

  Ridpath stared at the clock on the far wall. 5.20.

  ‘I’d better get a move on.’

  Chapter 27

  Cheadle Heath was a large police station in South Manchester. Ridpath had been posted here as a newly promoted Detective Constable working CID under Roberts, a Chief Inspector with a reputation for breaking rookie green detectives on a wheel of withering sarcasm and contempt.

  Somehow, Ridpath had survived. Chief Inspector Roberts hadn’t, though – his own vitriol had eventually consumed him and he died of a heart attack in 2015, a month after he retired.

  Ridpath went to the funeral, as did many others, just to make sure the bastard was really dead.

  Walking through the front doors of the station immediately sent his heart racing as if Roberts was waiting to give him yet another bollocking. Instead, he was greeted with a friendly hello from the Desk Sergeant.

  ‘Hey, look what the cats dragged in.’

  It was Sergeant Mungovan, another one of Ridpath’s mentors from the past. Perhaps Cheadle was the station where old cops were sent to see out their days. A kind of police elephant’s graveyard.

  ‘Sarge, great to see you again.’

  ‘I thought you’d turned in your badge, Ridpath. The Big C wasn’t it?’

  Did everybody know his life story? ‘GMP doesn’t get rid of me so easily. I’m working as a coroner’s officer now.’

  ‘Bit of a come-down, isn’t it? Weren’t you one of Charlie’s golden boys?’ There was a quick pause, a short cough and a glance at the book. It was obvious Mungovan knew he had put his foot in it. ‘Good copper, Charlie. Sorry to hear what happened.’ Another cough. ‘Anyway, what are you doing in this neck of the woods?’

  ‘You have a signer. Comes in at six o’clock every day.’

  ‘The Chinese guy?’

  ‘That’s him. Has he been in yet?’

  Mungovan looked at the clock. 5.45. ‘Not yet, regular as clockwork that one. Don’t have to check up on him. Comes in, signs the book and out again in two minutes. Wish they were all like him.’

  ‘When he comes in, can you keep him here? I’d like to have a word with him.’

  ‘No problem. Anything I should know about?’

  Ridpath didn’t want to go into a long explanation. ‘Not really, one of the coroner’s inquests. You know what lawyers are like. Could I snaffle an interview room for twenty minutes?’

  ‘Number three is free. You’ll have to give it a clean though. Dave Hardy’s been using it…’

  Dave Hardy was one of his friends and another of Charlie’s boys from MIT. He had been part of the clear out of the department by Claire Trent. ‘Is he around?’

  ‘Should be, but you know Dave, best in the business at skiving. If I see him, I’ll tell him to look in on you.’

  ‘Ta, Sarge. Room 3 is this way, isn’t it?’

  ‘Hasn’t changed since you were here, except the table has some new cigarette burns.’

  ‘Nothing ever changes…’

  Ridpath was buzzed through to the interior of the station. Interview Room 3 was the first on the right. He walked in and quickly cleaned up the plastic coffee cups, crisp packets, cans of Coke with stubbed out cigarettes floating in brown flat liquid, emptying everything into a large bin in the corridor. Dave Hardy hadn’t changed, still as messy as ever.

  He’d only just finished when Sergeant Mungovan’s voice came over the tannoy. ‘DI Ridpath to reception.’

  He walked out and saw a small Chinese man sitting on one of the plastic seats. The man was staring at the ground, his black hair falling over his black-rimmed glasses.

  ‘Mr Liang?’ Ridpath asked.

  The man looked up. He was young, like a student, only there was a hardness, a coldness in his eyes that surprised Ridpath.

  ‘Can you come with me? I’d like to ask you a few questions.’

  ‘What’s it about?’ The English was clear if accented, with a peculiar Manchester whine to it.

  ‘Just a few questions.’

  ‘I’m parked outside.’

  Ridpath pointed to the door leading to the interview room and smiled. ‘Won’t take long.’

  The man shrugged and stood up. Ridpath noted a certain rigidity about the man’s body. His arms went behind his back and his shoulders arched backwards, almost as if he was standing to attention. Had this man been in the military or was he just used to dealing with the police?

  Sergeant Mungovan buzzed them both through to the interview room.

  Once inside, Ridpath was Mr Affable. ‘Can I get you anything? Coffee, water, tea? But between you and me, the coffee is undrinkable, the water is from the tap and the tea is the awful powder stuff from the machine.’

  The man shook his head. ‘Not thirsty. What’s this about?’


  Ridpath sat opposite him. ‘Nothing much. I just want to ask you a few questions. We need some help with our enquiries. Are you comfortable speaking to me without an interpreter? I can get one to come in if you want but we’ll have to wait at least two hours at this time of night. Which dialect is best for you? Cantonese or Mandarin?’

  ‘Mandarin, but I can speak English. I don’t want to wait. What’s it about?’

  The third time he had asked, he was keen to know. Ridpath would keep him waiting for a little while longer. He opened his notebook and took out his pen.

  Liang’s eyes watched him like a hawk.

  ‘You are Mr Liang Xiao Wen?’

  ‘Right. Your pronunciation is good.’

  ‘Thank you, lucky I guess.’ Ridpath didn’t tell him about having a Chinese wife. ‘What’s your present address?’ The pen hovered over the notebook.

  ‘You know already.’

  ‘We just need confirmation.’

  ‘You’re not recording the interview?’ Liang pointed to the machine on the desk.

  Ridpath shook his head. ‘Like I said, just a friendly chat. Your address?’

  ‘Flat 4, 267 Nicholas Street.’

  For a second, Ridpath’s pen hovered over the notebook. ‘Is that in Chinatown?’

  ‘Yeah, close to the Arch.’

  ‘I know it well, great dim sum near there.’

  The man just smiled.

  ‘Now, you were recently detained at Wilmslow Immigration Removal Centre, is that correct?’

  The smile vanished and the man nodded slowly, his eyes narrowing.

  ‘Is that a yes?’

  ‘Yeah.’

  ‘Why were you in there?’

  ‘I was supposed to have overstayed my visa, but they’ve got the wrong person. They must be after another Liang Xiao Wen, not me.’

  Chinese names always gave the police problems. Firstly, there were less than 100 surnames in use, the surname came first and, like the west, the other names were also common. Ridpath translated Liang’s name. Xiao Wen literally meant ‘little culture’. Which, looking at the man in front of him, was a correct description.

  Liang was staring at him. ‘Anyway, my brief is sorting it out.’

  ‘But I’m not here about your problems with the Home Office. I’m investigating a death in custody. While you were in Wilmslow IRC, a woman died. A Miss Wendy Chen Hong Xi, but you may have known her as Wendy Tang.’ Ridpath paused, looking for a reaction. The face was like stone. ‘A countrywoman of yours, I believe.’