“Button?”
“Well what would you call it?”
“You press buttons. That’s a…”
“Turney thing, okay.”
“We were called when a passer-by heard a scream; he was on the street and called it in. So, in here we have…”
“Darkness.”
“Yeah, light bulb gone. Could have been broken in a struggle if attacker was tall,” Kane mused.
“Why attacker?”
“Cos the victim’s a short arse.”
A torch was pointed down and Lindleman knelt. It was a shame that journalist wasn’t here, he thought, because the public thought officers, especially uniform, vomited at grisly deaths, whereas they were some of the most hardened people in the country. They only vomited at bad curries.
Not that this death was especially grisly. As the uniform had noted, the man appeared to have been strangled to death by a rope that wasn’t present, had fought back and ended up with bloody fingers, and of course because he’d died his body had relaxed and he’d shat himself, a smell that was rising in the room.
“Any idea who he is?” Lindleman asked. The man was short, square, and looked like a shaven dwarf. The constable liked to guess, and this guy looked prematurely aged, a face full of wrinkles. If he’d been a foot taller, well, maybe two foot taller, he could have been a bouncer. So, what are we going to guess? Rob wondered. Okay we’re going to go with mechanic.
“Joshua Cribb. Current employment, if you can call it that, an elder at a church called New Hope. Hey, you okay man, you’ve gone horny on me.”
Lindleman, eyes wide, breathing increased, looked up. “You are absolutely sure? An elder at New Hope Church?”
“Yes. Why, what am I missing?”
“I think things have gone up a gear.”
“Hello, I’m PC Koralova and I’m investigating a disturbance next door.” The PC smiled at the young woman looking out at her and pitied her. She’d bought a nice new house on a nice new estate and now there was a corpse in her neighbours’ house and an unknown killer on the loose.
“Oh no, not a burglary,” the owner shrieked, seemingly unable to imagine worse.
“No.”
“Oh, thank god. A burglary would be awful. We’ve only just moved in.”
“Well I am sad to inform you that your neighbour is deceased.”
“Fuck.”
“Did you hear anything this evening? Unusual? Or even usual?”
“I didn’t hear a thing! I had the local rock show on the radio. They go to eleven. I go quite high as well. Sorry. When you say deceased do you mean, like, murdered?”
“Yes. If you didn’t hear anything, have you noticed anything over recent weeks? With your neighbour?”
“No, no, he was just a grumpy old man. Rest in peace of course.”
“Grumpy?”
“Miserable sod. His wife’s no better.”
“So… you’d say… he annoyed people. Would rub them up the wrong way?”
“Yes.”
“Right.”
“Should we flee?”
“Sorry?”
“Me, my husband and the kids; if there’s a killer out there. Should we run?”
“Oh no. Most people are killed by someone they know, with a local motive. There’s almost zero chance there’s someone working their way through your street.”
“Almost?”
“Well it’s never happened before. Ever.” Probably.
“Oh phew. You gonna be asking everyone?”
“Yes.”
“Good luck.”
Now, it was DC Lindleman’s turn to stand in the doorway, as their SOCO turned up.
“Hello Jobs,” Rob called out.
“Oh, we’re still going with that are we?” said a man otherwise known as Steve McGovern.
“Yes, that’s how nicknames work.”
“I didn’t pick it though did I.”
“That’s also how nicknames work.”
“Couldn’t I be McQueen?”
“After Alexander?”
“Very droll.”
“Something no one has said since fifties detective novels.”
“And how would you know about that?”
“My gran had loads of them.”
“My gran died.”
“I feel this has turned into a contest I don’t want to win. So, into the house we go.”
“What have we got?”
“A massive connect the dots puzzle.”
Steve asked, “the body’s been chopped up?”
“Jesus Jobs don’t sound excited by the thought. Nah, man’s been strangled.”
“Interesting.”
“Stop chatting,” DI Sharma said coming up the path. “Get solving crime. I know Rob is irresistible to men, but that corpse is getting bored.”
“Yes boss,” and Jobs disappeared inside.
“I’m also irresistible to corpses, they never run away.”
Sharma nodded with the look of a teacher whose pupil had performed exactly as expected, although not to be top of the class. “So, what do we have here Lindleman?”
“You are not going to believe it.”
“Good, I love it when things start with that. Explain.”
“Joshua Cribb. An elder at New Hope Church.”
“Fuck off.”
“Really Inspector.”
“Fuck off.”
“Seriously.”
“Did you do this? Did you kill him to turn this into a case?”
“Nope.”
“Well fucking hell. Right, you had better brief me and I better get onto the DCI. Things have gone up a gear.”
“That’s what I said.”
“Oh. That’s all I need, thinking like you. Who called it in?”
“Passer-by, they ran off…”
“What?”
“Jogger hearing a scream, kept going, they’re coming into the station soon to give a full statement.”
“Fair enough. Call Maruma and Grayling. Get them here.”
“On it.”
“Mate, I’m not sure about this.”
The young lad was looking out of the car, through an open door on which Atkins was leaning.
“What’s not to like? You finally get to help the police instead of getting us called out.”
“Yeah, but is this legal?”
“When have you cared about that? How many warnings you on for flying that drone near girls’ windows?”
“That’s not true! That was just a coincidence.”
“An indecent incidence.”
“Is this legal?”
“Of course, it’s legal.” Maybe. If anyone knew. “All I want you to do is fly your drone where I tell you and if we find what I think we’ll find then you’ll help solve a case.”
“Alright, alright. So, what’s the target?”
“So, there’s this girl…”
“It’s not true, it’s…”
“Hold the fuck on and let me finish. There’s a girl, in a garden, and someone is spying on her. We are going to use the drone to find out where that spy can be looking.”
“Oh. Okay. So, we set up in the garden?”
“I might not have told the owners about this. But it’s a drone, it flies over roofs.”
“Yes…”
“So, we don’t actually have to get out of the car, do we?”
“No…”
“Right, shove over and let’s go.”
Both sat in the back seat of the car, looking at a screen which showed the pavement outside. As the controls were pressed and moved, the image of the screen moved, as the drone rose off the footpath, into the air and…
“Into the garden of this house and…”
“I see what you mean. Trees everywhere.”
“Yeah, so, err…”
“Let me do circuits round getting higher.”
“Perfect.”
The drone whirled round, the camera focused on the trees rather than the ga
rden beneath and behind. As the drone rose up, they saw the dense firs and then, “what’s that?”
A gap. A small gap but still.
“Can we go through it?” Atkins asked.
“No, but we can go over and down the other side…” the drone did his bidding, and soon the pair were looking through a hole which gave a good view of half the garden.”
“Well shit, that looks like it. Okay, turn this thing round and…”
“That’s…”
“It really is…”
“A fucking…”
“Ladder. Right, what house is this?”
“Fucked if I know. Constable.”
“You have a drone, fly it round the front and look at the sign.”
“Seriously?”
“Oh, I’m telling you, I am ready for the future when we have to fire rockets through these fuckers, I love this. Also, I feel we have a strong lead on this case.”
“Will I get to appear in court?”
“I have to do some research.”
“On what?”
“If this is strictly legal.”
“But you said…”
“Many things. You filmed all this right?”
“Oh yeah, of course; it films automatically. I definitely didn’t film that woman’s…”
“Yes, yes, you also say many things. Okay, call the drone home and let’s get moving. Last thing we need is a fucking UFO sighting.”
DCI Wick stood at the conference table. “Welcome everyone to this meeting,” he said to the people assembled: Maruma, Grayling, Sharma and Lindleman, as well as Susan and Green. “After an apparently tragic turn of events today we will be reorganising our work. DI Sharma, please explain your end.”
Sharma didn’t need to look at the notes in front of her. “Officers were called to a report of some sort of assault, a scream, and found a body. Paramedics concluded the cause of death was strangulation and that certainly looks to be the case. As the body was found without the cord, showing clear signs of struggle, we conclude this was a murder. Of especial relevance to this meeting is the fact the deceased was an elder at New Hope Church.”
“Right, over to you Grayling.”
“We are investigating the deaths of two young men who were a couple. They hid their sexuality, and we strongly believe suffered psychological trauma as a result of a group offered by New Hope Church, which indirectly caused their deaths.”
Wick resumed. “In light of these deaths, we are combining both investigations. All four of you will work to discover what killed these three men, and if there is any connection we need to prosecute. I know privately you all feel there is, and although we have no intelligence, I am willing to follow it. Because, privately myself, I wonder if we had pursued the suicides with more resources an elder might not be dead.”
“You can’t worry about that sir,” Sharma told him, as the most senior officer here besides Wick, “you weren’t to know. Maybe there is no link.”
“No, but you don’t need to be Soloman to just feel there is. And even so, even if there is no link, we have a killer on the loose and we need to apprehend them. So, all four of you on it. If you need other officers bring in other members of the MCU. This is definitely murder.”
“Yes sir.”
The detectives got up and began filing into the Bunker to set up their investigation. Susan went over to Wick. “You seem a little…”
“Perturbed?”
“Whatever that means I’m sure it’s right.”
“Grayling, Lindleman, they were pushing for more effort, but I said no. If this new death is connected, I’ll always feel guilty. My team comes first, but I don’t like making errors because errors kill people.”
“Understood.”
“I would ask you to let us vet anything you’re going to post until we catch the killer. Does that offend your journalistic integrity?”
“Yes, but I understand. The last killer was caught in seconds. The suicides never looked like a killer. But this… I don’t want to give something away that lets them slip the net.”
“Good. I knew we could work together. But when we find this killer, you’ll have your story.”
“Nice positive mental attitude.”
“That’s what I bring to the job. Everyone else brings deduction and all that jazz.”
“I’m afraid you can’t come in sir,” said a uniformed officer stood in front of a door that had police tape across it.
“What’s happened?”
“We are investigating.”
“Well I need to speak to the owner of the house.”
“Do you know him?” the PC asked.
“Yes, we are both elders of New Hope Church.”
“Right, and your name is?”
“Elder,” he stressed, “Edward Quince.”
“Then I’m afraid to tell you Mr Quince, or is it Father?”
“Mr,” he said reluctantly.
“That the owner of the house, Joshua Cribb, was murdered. We are currently conducting a search of the house. If you’d like to speak to someone…”
“No, no, murdered, oh…” Quince turned away and walked down the path. He heard the officer start to speak into a radio, so he briskly went to his car and drove off.
Murdered… His thoughts raged. All this time he’d been afraid of the police and someone actually killed one of the elders. Obviously, the police hadn’t turned into vigilantes but, was it one of the congregation? One of the members of his lovely church? Why would they turn on…?
Of course, someone would. If the police found Quince dead, stabbed by a builder, they’d easily see why. He himself would understand in a strange way. The elders had a list of enemies and someone on that list had started ticking off their own.
And yet Quince couldn’t go to the police, could he. In fact, if the cops were searching Cribb’s house maybe Quince needed to go home and do some shredding. And burning. And whatever the fuck you did to hard drives. Saw them in half or something.
Shit, he began to repeat, then shout as he drove his car at speed. His perfect life was starting to unravel, assailed from every direction. The cops and the criminals. But he could fight back. He had a church.
Three
“Hello there, I’m DC Atkins of the Morthern CID, and I’m just conducting some enquiries in the area.” He smiled, but the man who’d opened the door didn’t.
“What about?” came the barked reply.
“Is it true that you live in this house alone?”
“How do you know that?”
“And is it true you’ve not been on holiday or spent much time away from the house these last two weeks?”
“What, do I have to answer that?”
“No, you don’t.”
“Then I won’t.”
“In that case, I am arresting you…” the door was slammed shut. Atkins didn’t move with any great speed, he just began sauntering victoriously round the side of the house, and as he went into the back garden, he found two uniformed officers wrestling the man to the ground.
“Peter Hall,” Atkins began, “I am arresting you on suspicion of harassment. You do not have to say anything. But it may harm your defence if you do not mention when questioned something which you later rely on in court. Anything you do say may be given in evidence."
“I haven’t done it. I didn’t do it.”
“… this interview is now in progress.” Atkins was sat in the interview room flanked by another member of the CID, while Peter Hall sat opposite with a lawyer.
“So, Peter,” Atkins began.
“Mr Hall.”
“Sorry?”
“Call me Mr Hall.”
“Mr Hall. When we arrested you, you said you didn’t do it. What were you referring to?”
“Slip of the tongue. I meant I hadn’t done anything.”
“Fair enough. So, Mr Hall, are you aware that a new family has moved into your street?”
“Yes. Husband. Wife. Daughter. I’ve seen them
around.”
“Have you had any contact with them?”
“A hello in the street. But I’ve no reason to.”
“Quite. Let me show you an exhibit I have, what do you make of this?” A letter was handed over in an evidence bag.
“Dunno, some sort of message.”
“Do you recognise it?”
“No.”
“What’s it written in?”
“Printed, computer text, all capitals.”
“Right, and do you recognise this?” a photo was placed on the table. It was of a small handsaw.
“No. I’m not into DIY.”
“This was found on your property.”
“Well, maybe, I can’t tell you everything in my garage.”
“It’s curious, because it looks strongly like this saw was used to cut a hole through the trees in your garden. One which looks through to the new arrivals.”
“I garden all the time. That’s an accident. I cut and dig.”
“So, you deny cutting a hole in the trees to look through?”
“Of course.”
“And the ladder in your garden?”
“Is there to prune the trees of course.”
“Okay, so you haven’t been using it to climb up and spy on the neighbours?”
“Why would I ever do that?”
“Well, I do wonder; because you have a computer don’t you.”
“Yes. I might be old, but I can still use technology!”
“And we seized your computer when we arrested you.”
“You can do that?”
“If we have grounds for it, and I have found grounds for it. Namely that the only way someone could spy on the daughter, as revealed in the notes, is by looking through the hole in your trees.”
“So, you have my computer, so what?”
“And on your computer, when you delete files, they go into a waste bin.”
“They what? No delete, it means delete. They go.”
“And in your waste bin are the three letters people have received about the sale of your neighbours’ house.”
“No.”
“Actually, we have our computer forensics team report here, and they are definitely there, with the relevant dates of creation. Which leads me to believe you are harassing your neighbours.”
Power and Control Page 11