IMPOSTURE: Hunters become the hunted in this gripping murder mystery

by Ray Clark

  “Can you make sure we all have copies so one of us can study them?” Gardener asked.

  Thornton nodded. “If you do, you can see that she’s getting wound up by the situation that they have landed her and her children in. That’s when she starts lashing out at them, calling them all sorts.”

  “Do any of the conversations reveal anything?” asked Gardener.

  “Nothing we don’t already know. Foreman was clueless and Palmer was evasive. She’s the one on the attack, trying to drag information out of them.”

  “The most important being her husband’s whereabouts,” added Anderson.

  “What happened when Michael Foreman called her?” asked Gardener. “Did Constable and his team follow up on that?”

  “Yes, it took them a while to trace the call and when they did they had two men round to his apartment. It was empty.”

  “Of everything?” asked Reilly.

  “No, just him. They returned on a regular basis before asking the caretaker to let them in. That was when they found it empty – cleared of everything. Caretaker was fuming because he knew nothing about it.”

  “And he didn’t see anything suspicious? A caretaker usually has his eye on the ball. To clear an apartment out could take a couple of days. He didn’t see anyone doing that – no removal vehicle?”

  “Apparently not.”

  “And that was the last she heard from Michael Foreman?”

  “Yes.”

  “Has she heard anything from Zoe Harrison?” asked Paul Benson.

  “No, nothing,” said Thornton. “But she had a call from Anthony Palmer yesterday.”

  “Palmer?” said Gardener. “Yesterday?”

  “Yes. She went on the attack again,” said Anderson. “He claimed he knew about the meeting in Brussels, the one that Michael Foreman apparently didn’t know about.”

  “She had a go at Palmer,” said Thornton, “called him all the names under the sun, tried to extract information from him and ended up by telling him the line was tapped and the call was traceable.”

  “Did we trace it?” asked Gardener.

  “Yes. Through the cell masts we managed to put it somewhere in the location of Beckett’s Park.”

  “That’s in Headingley,” said Dave Rawson.

  “Did you check the place out?” Gardener asked.

  Thornton nodded.

  “I suppose it’s too much to expect we found the phone,” said Gardener.

  “No, but it’s a big area,” Thornton replied. “Do you want us to get some extra help on it?”

  “I doubt we’ll find anything but it’s worth a try,” said Gardener. “Has the phone been used since?”

  “No.”

  “He’s obviously ditched it,” said Sarah Gates.

  “Okay,” said Gardener, “someone keep on that one.”

  Thornton and Anderson were two of his most experienced, which is why he asked, “Do either of you suspect Rosie Henshaw is in on this?”

  The room grew silent. “I know we shouldn’t rule out anything or anyone,” replied Anderson, “but I really don’t think she’s that good an actress.”

  Thornton agreed.

  “Apart from that, we have her landline and mobile tapped. If we’ve found no suspicious calls it seems unlikely,” said Gardener. “As I’ve said, let’s have a copy of those transcripts and I’d like someone to go over them with a fine toothcomb. Pressing on, do we have anything on the green Evoque?”

  “I have, sir,” said Patrick Edwards. He tapped a few keys on the computer, which was linked to a projector, with a screen on the wall at the opposite end of the room. Everyone turned to see what Patrick had unearthed.

  Butts Court in Leeds appeared in extreme clarity. The green Evoque pulled up. They noted the time. A man dressed in a white protection suit stepped out of the car and round to the back.

  “What the hell is that?” asked Dave Rawson.

  “It doesn’t look good,” replied Anderson. “That’s the kind of thing Hazchem would use.”

  At the mention of that word, Gardener’s stomach swelled. If it was a Hazchem suit, it would suggest he needed protecting from something nasty, which would not go down well with Briggs. It could also suggest that it was someone with a background in the police or the military. The other option was that he simply didn’t want to be seen.

  The man in the suit opened the vehicle tailgate and dragged Michael Foreman out of it, onto the concrete, past the ramp leading to the underground car park and then into the corner near the chain-link fence behind the shops.

  Then the hoodie appeared.

  “There’s Jonathan Drake,” said Rawson.

  Each member of the team moved in closer as Jonathan Drake suddenly started to film the event. The man in the suit grabbed the phone, put it in his pocket and swiftly took care of Drake, disposing of him at the bottom of the ramp.

  “Is that how Jonathan Drake described what happened?” Gardener asked.

  “Pretty much,” replied Rawson. “He beefed it up a little, made out he’d put up more of a fight.”

  “Stupid question, I know, but did he get a good look at the man in the suit?”

  “No. Not enough to identify him.”

  “Did he recognise the voice?” asked Reilly.

  “No.”

  “What happened when he came round?” Gardener asked.

  “Nothing. Everyone had disappeared. Michael Foreman had gone, and the man in the suit and the Evoque, along with his phone.”

  “Did he give you his phone number?” asked Julie Longstaff.

  “Yes. I put a trace on it,” said Rawson. “Nothing has happened with the phone since the attack. It’s been switched off, and no doubt the SIM card removed because there is no signal.”

  “That guy in the white suit obviously knows how to handle himself,” said Reilly. “Everything he did was swift and clean, professional. Almost, dare I say it, military?”

  Gardener thought about it and then pressed Patrick Edwards about the Evoque’s movements.

  “After leaving The Headrow it disappeared for a few minutes before doubling back. The next ping was on the A61 Roundhay Road. We lost him after that; still trying to get the information.”

  “Where does the A61 lead to?” Gardener asked.

  “North of Leeds: Thirsk, Ripon, Harrogate. Could be any of those places, sir,” replied Edwards.

  “Okay, keep plugging away. I suspect the man with the Evoque is the one impersonating the police officer in the early hours of this morning. It could be Anthony Palmer. It wouldn’t be the first time we’ve been fooled by someone dressing up and impersonating a police officer.”

  “Why would Anthony Palmer pose as a policeman and use his own name?” asked Reilly.

  “To make us think it was too obvious to connect,” said Gates.

  “Hiding in plain sight, you mean?” said Longstaff.

  “He’s had some nerve, though, hasn’t he?” said Rawson. “Posing as an officer, and relieving our two of their duty to carry this out.”

  “Wouldn’t take a lot,” said Reilly. “Boring shift, sleepy officers. This guy comes along, offers them some shut-eye at home in their own beds. Come back first thing, they’re gonna jump at it.”

  “Meanwhile he ships his next victim in without a hitch,” said Sharp.

  “It’s a possibility,” said Gardener, “or is it someone else altogether, who knows as much – if not more – about the incident, than we all do?”

  “That seems obvious,” said Benson, “which brings us back to Rosie Henshaw and another possibility.”

  “Go on,” said Gardener.

  “Is she working with someone – Palmer being the most obvious?”

  “But why?” asked Gardener. “What’s the endgame?”

  “Can’t be the money,” said Reilly. “They appear to be rolling in it anyway, and if her husband dies, she’ll inherit it all.”

  “Maybe,” said Sharp, “but if all this money has been made illegally, ho
w will she stand? Can she keep it?”

  “That’s a good question, Colin,” said Gardener, “but not for us to decide.”

  “Knowing this lot,” said Reilly, “they won’t have everything in one basket. There’s bound to be shit loads of money in a Swiss bank account somewhere.”

  “Or is Rosie working with Zoe Harrison?” asked Patrick Edwards.

  “Maybe she just fed us a pack of lies about what she really felt for Harrison,” said Benson.

  “All good points,” said Gardener. “But the person in the Evoque was male, which suggests three people involved. That’s too many for my liking, gets too messy.”

  The door to the incident room opened and DCI Briggs walked in, his face impassive, his mood sombre.

  Gardener read the signs. “What’s happened?”

  “News just in, James Henshaw has died.”

  Chapter Forty

  Gardener placed his bottle of water on the desk. “Two down, two to go.”

  Briggs took a seat at the back of the room, allowing Gardener to continue. “When?”

  “About half an hour since.”

  It would be pointless checking on Rosie Henshaw’s whereabouts. James Henshaw was beyond help when they found him. He seriously doubted she’d have had either him or the others holed up somewhere with everything else going on in her life, and her every movement being watched. Although everyone was a possible suspect, he still didn’t think she was top of the list.

  “Looks like Sean and I will have to pay a visit and break the bad news, and very probably coerce her into identifying the body. In that case, can we try to look a little closer at James Henshaw? According to Winter’s team, his last movements never put him at the airport.”

  “Where did they put him?” asked Rawson. “Does anyone actually know?”

  “No,” said Anderson. “According to his wife he left the house intending to go to Brussels for a meeting that he never made. From Winter’s notes, we discovered that he never even boarded a flight. Why was that? Where did he go?”

  “Or, where was he made to go?” said Thornton.

  “How did he get to the airport?” Gardener asked. “Did he have a taxi booked? If so there must be a record. Did one of the others pick him up?” The senior officer glanced at Bob Anderson. “Bob can you call Rosie Henshaw and find out if she knows?”

  Bob Anderson nodded and left the room, returning a few minutes later. “Palmer picked him up.”

  “Back to square one,” said Gardener, “so we don’t know where either of them went and in which direction they were heading.”

  “If she’s telling the truth, Stewart,” said Briggs. “Isn’t she a suspect?”

  “Technically, yes, but a lot of what we’ve so far uncovered shows it would be very difficult for her to pull it off.”

  “But not impossible,” countered Briggs. “If she really hates her husband, and the rest of them for what they’ve done to her and the kids, she could be capable of anything. Also think about the way women kill, usually from the inside, very rarely anything as direct as a knife or a gun. What happened to both Michael Foreman and James Henshaw started on the inside. I know it’s not very nice but she will have to be questioned more closely.”

  Gardener nodded, unable to dispute anything Briggs was saying.

  “Sean and I will handle that one. There was mention of the airports just then, has anyone had any luck?”

  “We might be able to help there, sir,” said Julie Longstaff. “Sarah and I spent most of our time there today with some operational support officers and a couple of super recognisers.”

  Gardener had his fingers crossed. “What did you find?”

  “Digital ID and photo recognition software pulled something up,” said Gates, “and fortunately for us, the airport archives all the CCTV so the super recognisers came into their own.”

  “They managed to spot three of them,” said Longstaff. “Michael Foreman, Zoe Harrison, and Anthony Palmer on their return into the country. From that we have information of when they left, where they went, and when they returned.”

  “Seriously?” asked Gardener, unable to believe that sometimes good news came into an incident room as well.

  “We’re still documenting it,” said Gates, “but we’re pretty confident we can make something of it.”

  “This backs up something that was mentioned yesterday,” said Gardener. “Maybe they went out under false names and disguises but they’ve had the nerve to return as themselves. Everything the DPA did seems to have been online, which means there must be a record. I realise they were brilliant at covering their tracks, but there has to be a trail somewhere, so speak to cyber crime again. Maybe returning as themselves is the mistake we needed.”

  “We’re pretty sure that’s what happened. They all went out on separate days, all within a week of the hit and run,” said Longstaff, “and they all came back on separate days. None of them were together. They were all in different parts of the world. Michael Foreman was in Miami; Anthony Palmer in the Bahamas; and Zoe Harrison in New Zealand.”

  “Do we know what names they used?”

  “I think they must have been card players at some point,” said Gates. “We have a Jack Spade, and an Alf Diamond, but get this, Zoe Harrison chose Hunter as a surname.”

  “Jesus Christ,” said Reilly, “they’re nothing if not inventive.”

  “When did they come back in?” Gardener asked.

  “Michael Foreman was first,” said Gates, “six weeks ago. Zoe Harrison came in three days later, and Anthony Palmer as recent as Monday of this week.”

  “This week?” questioned Gardener.

  “Yes,” said Longstaff, “and apparently there was an incident with a clown, involving security. We’re still checking but it involved Anthony Palmer.”

  Reilly clicked his fingers, and Gardener nodded. “Roger Hunter told us that Anthony Palmer was petrified of clowns, so what was the incident?”

  “We’re not sure,” said Gates. “Apparently a new carrier was having an open day and clowns were present when Anthony Palmer passed through the lounges. The CCTV didn’t show a lot but it looks like he spotted the clown and fainted.”

  “There was a doctor on hand,” said Longstaff, “he was checked over, given some tea and then he left, but we’re still working on where he went from there. We need to check more of the CCTV.”

  “None of this tells us who is responsible for what’s happening now,” said Briggs. “Two of these people are still at large: Zoe Harrison and Anthony Palmer. On top of that, there is still one more person in the picture. Rosie Henshaw. Have we any idea yet where these people operated from, and whether or not it is still being used by one of them? That might help.”

  “All houses have been cleaned out completely,” said Dave Rawson.

  “I’m not sure if this will help,” said Gates, “but we also now know what cars they drove and we have the registration numbers from the airport. Like the Evoque, they are all on lease with the defunct company V-Tech, all using the DPA names. Problem is, the cars are all missing, including Anthony Palmer’s.”

  “What about the account?” asked Gardener. “Is it still open?”

  “No,” said Longstaff. “But it was only closed two weeks ago.”

  “That’s interesting,” said Gardener. “How long were they leased for and how was it all paid?”

  “Leased for six months and paid in full,” said Gates.

  “And now the account has gone,” said Gardener, “just like them and the cars. Can we find out who closed the account?”

  “The cars could be wherever the victims are,” said Reilly.

  “They could be,” agreed Gardener, “but that would have to be somewhere big and possibly remote, all of which make it very difficult for Rosie Henshaw to control.”

  “Only if she’s working alone,” added Reilly.

  Gardener glanced at Sarah Gates. “Were each of these cars parked at the airport and taken from there?”


  “We believe so,” she replied, “we’re still checking the CCTV to see if the owners removed them, or someone else, and which way they went.”

  “Excellent news,” said Gardener, updating the whiteboard. He turned back to his team. “I keep thinking about them all being holed up. We know for a fact that the unit they supposedly had is derelict, a dead end, but if they had somewhere else they operated from, what’s to say that whoever is running the operation hasn’t got them all in their own place?”

  “But that would need to be a big industrial unit,” said Briggs. “Especially if they have all the cars in there, and the vehicle used in the hit and run, and this green Evoque that we keep seeing. So the question then is, why would a company who specialise in computer viruses need a big unit?”

  “Why would they need a unit at all?” asked Gardener. “They could all have worked from home.”

  “Maybe there was a lot more to it than computer viruses,” said Rawson.

  “Could have been a smokescreen,” offered Gates. “Maybe they just rented a big unit somewhere whether they needed the space or not.”

  “For what?” Gardener asked.

  “No idea,” offered Longstaff, “but let’s face it, money was no object. And if one of them had this in mind all along, the big unit would be perfect.”

  Gardener figured they may have hit on something. “Okay, point taken. I need someone to start checking units and warehousing within a fifty-mile radius.”

  “I’ll take that, sir,” said Patrick Edwards.

  Gardener was beginning to appreciate Edwards. He was young but willing, rarely shied away from anything he was given, and often volunteered for jobs other people wouldn’t want.

  “Excellent, Patrick. Get Benson to help you. But before you guys go anywhere, I’m afraid we still have more information for you.”

  Chapter Forty-one

  A collective sigh rattled around the room but Gardener understood it. Sometimes the mountain continued to grow and you could see no way of scaling it. He picked up the two scrolls containing the biblical quotes, now sealed in evidence bags.