Missing on Dartmoor

by Julian Mitchell

  “Look, I told you what happened and at no point did she get in my van. It must have been when we met, I gave her a quick hug, as friends do, and I can only think a hair got on my clothes and then somehow got on to the passenger seat.”

  “You never mentioned hugging her when we last spoke.”

  “I didn’t think it was important, just like I probably wouldn’t have mentioned if I had shaken her hand. I’m telling you, she did not get into my van.”

  “Would you normally greet her with a hug?”

  “Absolutely. I hug the women and shake hands with the guys: not a traditional handshake, but with our hands vertical instead of horizontal, more like a high five.”

  King replied, rather dismissively: “I’m more interested in the hug than the handshake. What were you wearing when you gave her a hug?”

  “I wear overalls for work and the pair I had on last week are in the wash.”

  “Very convenient. If I accept for a moment the fact you hugged, how did her hair get on the passenger seat in your van?”

  “I don’t know, I must have reached over to get something out of the glove box.”

  “What do you keep in the glove box and what was it you wanted to get?”

  “I keep invoices and little slips of paper I put through customers’ doors if they are out: then they know I’ve cleaned their windows.”

  “Were any of your customers out on that Wednesday?”

  “Now let me see, I think one of them may have been and I’d have needed a slip from the glove box.”

  Harris interjected after flicking through her notepad: “None of them was out, Mr Betteridge. You gave me their names when we interviewed you on Saturday the fourth of February. I checked with them and they confirmed they were in, and gave me the approximate time of your arrival and departure. Do you remember, when we interviewed you on the second occasion, you couldn’t account for an hour of your time that Wednesday afternoon? You still haven’t explained the missing hour.”

  King kept up the pressure: “So, as your customers were in, it wasn’t then that you reached over to the glove box to get a slip. Of course, there could be another reason why her DNA showed up in your van. You somehow lured her into it and then drove her away.”

  “Look, I’ve admitted briefly chatting to her, but I swear I left her in the car park. I’m a happily married man. Why would I want to snatch Mary? To harm her? To seduce her? That’s all bollocks. I wish now I had driven past her and waved, instead of stopping for a chat. While you’re wasting time with me, the real killer is still on the loose.”

  The inspector calmly added after the tirade: “Who said that Mary Cranson was killed?”

  Nevertheless, the invective continued unabated.

  “Well, what else could have happened to her? She’s been missing for all this time; surely you must think she’s been murdered? Or do you think she’s gone on her holidays without telling anyone? Or just popped down the shops? Or she’s been abducted by aliens? Or joined some sect or other? Or… ”

  Betteridge’s solicitor called a halt to his rantings by placing a hand on his arm and then spoke to the detectives.

  “I think my client would like to take a break. Could we adjourn for, say, half an hour?”

  “Interview suspended at 9.24 a.m.” King pushed the stop button on the recording machine, and said they would reconvene at ten o’clock. When they were alone, the inspector asked his sergeant whether she thought Betteridge was the abductor.

  She paused and took a sip from her coffee cup before answering. Eventually, she spoke with a number of questions, which she answered herself: “Did he have the means to abduct her? Certainly. Did he have the opportunity? He eventually admitted he was probably the last person who spoke to her, so yes on his own admission. Did he have the motive? Who knows? Maybe he fantasised about her and wanted to have sex with her? If his daughter was there, what role did she play? If they did kidnap Mary by bundling her into his van, surely there would have been more trace than a single hair? Unless, of course, he knocked her out first, and then we may have found blood stains. You asked me a direct question, sir, and having listened to all he said, including the rantings, and despite his failure to satisfactorily explain the DNA match and his denial that he was accompanied, I really don’t think he’s our man.”

  “I’m inclined to agree, sergeant: partly because of your reasoning and also because of the mitten found near Hound Tor. If he snatched Mary, how come her mitten was found where it was? There’s no way his van would have gone over that rough terrain. However, because of the DNA match, we’ve probably got enough to charge him.” King leaned back in his chair, took out a sherbet lemon, and, sucking, thoughtfully looked at the ceiling.

  They decided to interview Rachel Betteridge before reconvening the interview with her father. The inspector sent word to him and his solicitor that they would meet again in an hour not half an hour. He felt that letting him ‘sweat’, physically and metaphorically, would give him more time to reflect on his testimony.

  Care was taken by the custody sergeant to ensure the Betteridges didn’t meet or even see each other in the station. King and Harris went to another interview room where the daughter was sitting with an empty cup in front of her.

  “Why have I been brought here? I’m being treated like a common criminal. I told you all I know when you saw me the other day,” she said indignantly.

  King was used to hostility and tended to ignore it unless it became too vehement.

  “The reason we are seeing you again, Ms Betteridge, is that new information has come into our possession. We have a witness that places you in the Haytor car park with your father and Mary Cranson on the day she disappeared.”

  “What has my dad said?”

  “Never mind what he’s said, we want to hear what you’ve got to say.”

  “Okay. I’ve had enough of this sham; here’s what really happened. I wasn’t working that Wednesday afternoon and I asked dad if he needed any help. He said he had two houses to do over Two Bridges way and two back in Bovey. We did the first two and then on the way back he suggested we have an ice cream. We stopped in the top car park near Haytor where the ice cream van is usually parked and had a cone each. After that we set off down the hill past Haytor and he spotted Mary’s car in the car park so he pulled in. She had just got out of her car and we had a quick chat with her and then went on our way. The important reason I’m telling you this is that after we heard she had gone missing, dad said he didn’t want either of us being suspected of being involved. As no one had seen us, or so we thought, and we had nothing to do with what happened to her, he said it was best not to say anything to connect us to her disappearance.

  “That’s the truth inspector and if I could turn the clock back I would have advised him just to tell the police exactly what happened.”

  King confirmed the fact he knew she was there. “Was the flake for you?”

  She didn’t answer.

  *

  The interview with the father restarted at 10.33 with Betteridge in a much calmer mood, thanks to his legal advisor, who was the first to speak: “My client has reflected on what you’ve told him and he wants to clarify one point that the sergeant raised, namely the missing hour, as she calls it. He thinks the slow driving, the ice cream stop and the chat with Miss Cranson satisfactorily account for the time between him leaving Two Bridges and arriving in Bovey. I think my client has fully answered all your questions, and explained his actions and doesn’t feel he can add anyth…” The solicitor’s statement was abruptly halted as Betteridge grabbed his arm: all eyes turned his way.

  “I know why Mary’s hair was in my van. Last December, about six weeks ago, we were all leaving training and it was absolutely lashing with rain. I had parked very close to the clubhouse, as I’m usually the first to arrive on training night. Mary and Tom were leaving at the same time and
Tom’s car was not far away, but far enough for them to get soaked. Mary’s Punto was at the other end of the car park. She had arrived after the others as she had to work at her parents’ hotel, and, obviously, doesn’t take part in the training. Tom said he would make a dash for his car and drive the short distance back, and take his girlfriend to her Punto. I said there was no need to do that as I’d drop Mary by her car. She thought that was a good idea, kissed Tom and got in my van. That must be when her hair got on to the passenger seat.” The animated, and then relieved, interviewee slumped back in his chair, pleased with his self-exoneration.

  “Why didn’t you mention this before, Mr Betteridge?”

  “Because you put pressure on me and I couldn’t think straight. So, the DNA link was either the hug or more likely after training as the wind and rain were strong that night and I remember her hair being ruffled.”

  “We’ll need to check that out as that could be a possible explanation. Not forgetting the other explanation: she got into your van after your chat in the car park.”

  “Oh, for pity’s sake! Don’t you ever give up? I’ve told you all I know. I had nothing whatsoever to do with the disappearance of Mary Cranson.”

  “Are you still maintaining you were alone at your chance meeting?” King was giving him one last chance to tell the truth: he took it, finally realising the consequences if he continued to lie.

  “No. I was with my daughter. If you’ve spoken to her and she denied being with me, that’s because I told her to say that. I was stupid as I thought if no one knew we were there, we wouldn’t get hassled for something we didn’t do.”

  “We’ve spoken to your daughter and she’s seen sense as well. It would have saved us a lot of time if you’d both told the truth from the outset. We will need to get Tom Bowers to confirm your account of Mary being in your car.”

  His solicitor wanted to draw matters to a close: “I think my client has now answered all your questions and you must now either charge him or release him.”

  King didn’t like how the interviews with the Betteridges had developed, but had to accept their plausibility and that both were now telling the truth.

  “Mr Betteridge, I am releasing you on police bail, as you are still considered a suspect in this case. As part of your bail conditions, you must not contact anyone connected with it: this includes Mr Bowers. This interview is suspended, rather than terminated, at 10.47.”

  When they were left alone in the interview room, alert as ever, Harris was first to speak: “Sir, I’ll get on to Tom Bowers straightaway and check out Betteridge’s story. If he confirms that he gave Mary a lift back in December, albeit a very short one, then, obviously, it weakens our case against him.”

  “I agree, but we’ll let him sweat on bail. As you said before, I don’t think he’s our man, but he’s still a piece in the jigsaw and, you never know, he might yet come back in the frame: there again, he never left it.”

  THIRTEEN

  Thursday the ninth of February and Mary Cranson had been missing for over a week. DI King and DS Harris privately concluded that the chances of finding Mary alive had markedly reduced. The inspector had updated Superintendent Edwards, starting the briefing with positive news, namely the theft charges against Kemp and Bovis, followed by the arson charge against Brad Donald. Once again he thanked his boss for the extra resource and said DC Hammond was making a difference to the speed of their enquiries. Edwards was pleased, but really wanted to know about the Cranson case, as the chief constable had asked for another update. King outlined where the investigation had reached, initially including the identification of several suspects who had subsequently had their whereabouts confirmed on the day of the disappearance, albeit for some by a circuitous route. Importantly, he told the superintendent of the leads they were pursuing in connection with the Betteridges and Cantwell alibis, and their unease with the testimonies of the Sutton family. King also commented that the case had now been elevated from a missing person to a murder enquiry. Edwards seemed fairly satisfied with the progress, but his frustration at the minimal headway on the missing woman was evident: this irritation was shared by the detectives.

  *

  The inspector finished the briefing and returned to the main office, where, as usual, he held a less formal meeting with Harris, Dyson and Hammond. His sergeant reported that the forensic examination of Cantwell’s van had shown no trace of Mary’s DNA. She had also spoken with Tom Bowers, who had confirmed that Betteridge had given Mary a short lift on a rainy night last December. Of course, that did not completely exonerate him, but was a plausible reason as to why a hair of hers came to be in his van.

  Sam Dyson and Alex Hammond reported on their day at the Exeter Livestock Centre including the unsubstantiated accusation against the Suttons. That said, they readily acknowledged that very little progress had been made on the farm thefts. However, they did finish their report on the fruitful outcome of the Kemp and Bovis prosecutions. King asked them to continue with their investigation, which involved checking on farm equipment and Land Rovers being sold privately, or through supposedly legitimate websites, from Penzance in the south, Bristol to the north and Salisbury to the east. After the meeting ended the two DCs returned to the main office.

  They weren’t exactly sure what they were looking for, but had the list of stolen items on Dyson’s computer and were scrolling through the sale sites in the various areas. Obviously, she didn’t expect the thieves to be brazen and sell the items with the original number plate or engine identification number. She knew that engine numbers could be found in three locations: stamped on the casing, on the vehicle’s main block or the crank shaft. She also knew that on stolen vehicles, these are usually ground down to be illegible. Rather, in her search she was comparing the age of the vehicles, mileage and, in some cases, simply the colour.

  *

  King and Harris had unfinished business with the Suttons and planned to revisit Quarry Farm, this time unannounced. They wanted to speak with all three Suttons individually again to see if they had anything to add to their original testimony, and also to see if their stories still tallied with what they had said previously. From their experience, the detectives knew that the truth retold tends to be consistent whereas lies can become distorted when repeated.

  The inspector told his sergeant that in his view he had made an error of judgement on their second visit by not taking their vehicles for forensic inspection: he wasn’t going to make that mistake again.

  As on the other two visits, it was John Sutton who appeared from the farmhouse, with a look of surprise on his face. Gone was the hostility of their first encounter, but so too was the affable welcome they had received on the second. Now he adopted a “What now?” manner, mainly due to the detectives not having informed him in advance of their visit. King saw no need for introductions.

  “Mr Sutton, we’re still investigating the disappearance of Mary Cranson and need to speak with you and your sons individually. We’d also like to inspect your vehicles.”

  At the mention of vehicles, the blood drained from the farmer’s face.

  “Vehicles? Which vehicles and why?

  “Any transport you and your sons use to go across the moor. Let’s say we need to eliminate them from our enquiries.”

  He seemed somewhat reassured by the inspector’s response.

  “We use the tractor, the quad bike and the UTV.”

  Sergeant Harris provided a reminder, “Utility Task Vehicle, sir. That’s the two seater with a cab and a small cargo bed.”

  “We’ll start with the vehicles, and then speak with you and your sons together at the end of our visit; are they about?”

  “Dick is out on the moor feeding the cattle in the UTV, and Harry is cleaning up after milking. The quad bike and tractor are in the barn.”

  “Thank you Mr Sutton, please tell your son we want to speak to him when he has finis
hed in the milking parlour.”

  The detectives moved to the barn and, sure enough, there were the tractor and quad bike. If either had been used to abduct Mary, it was most likely the latter vehicle. They correctly deduced that the tractor was used more for pulling heavy loads over reasonably flat terrain, or for moving heavy objects around the farmyard. They only gave it a cursory inspection before turning their attention to the quad bike. This would certainly carry two people, although primarily designed as a single seater. Closer examination didn’t particularly reveal any clues. It was too much to hope that Mary’s other mitten or bobble hat was trapped under the seat. It was certainly in need of a good clean, which was not surprising for a farm vehicle, which was constantly being used in wintry conditions.

  Harris referred to her notepad. “According to my notes, taken on our last visit, sir, Dick Sutton found his knife when cleaning out the foot well.”

  “That was over two days ago, so I suppose in that time it could have got muddy again. The vehicle that really interests me is the one Dick Sutton is currently using. Let’s go and speak to John Sutton again. Did you notice the change in his pallor when the vehicle inspection was mentioned?”

  “I did, sir, and I also noticed that he seemed relieved when we told him it was the ones he uses on the farm. Farm transport seems to touch a nerve with him.”

  “We’ll bear that in mind, sergeant.”

  Unbeknown to King and Harris, as they inspected the vehicles in the barn, a dark coloured Jeep Cherokee turned into the entrance to Quarry Farm. It came to an abrupt halt as soon as the unmarked police car came into view. It hastily reversed and sped off.

  *

  The detectives returned to the farmhouse and, once again, the recalcitrant farmer had anticipated their return and was waiting for them. He didn’t know why, but this disturbed King.

  “We would like to inspect the UTV when your son returns with it: which of you uses it most?”

  “I suppose Dick, as he does most of the feeding, but we use the one most suitable for the job we’re doing.”