“We’re not going to get anywhere until he starts to tell us the truth. I know he’s hiding something. It’s an odd set-up all round.”
“We should have a look at Molly’s Facebook account. She must have one, surely – or one of the other platforms. I’ll get on to the forensic data laboratory. They might not have got around to looking at her machine yet. They’re always pretty backed up, but they can give us her social media information so we can have a look for ourselves.”
“Yes, get onto that will you, Ros. Push them if you can.”
“I’ll send Bev a message, ask her to get some of the civilians started with it as well. Just online searching. Not very efficient but we might be lucky.”
“When you’ve done that, contact the office and get me an appointment with DCI Cross. He’s got to agree to a national appeal now.”
Chapter 29
Beverly Powell was waiting for them. “I’ve got everyone started with the trawl through Molly McCardle’s social media usage. I don’t know if we’ll be able to cover even half of it without knowing what sort of things she was interested in.”
“What about the parenting sites? Probably one of the most important things that’s happened to her was having the baby,” Rosalind said.
“Oh yes, good thinking. I’ll pass it on to the team. The brother was no help then?” Beverly asked.
Jordan shook his head and rubbed a hand over his face. He looked around the room, everyone was working away but it seemed it was getting them nowhere. They needed a breakthrough, fast. He had an hour before his meeting with DCI Cross, just time to go through his reports. And, as if he’d wished it upon himself, the first one was from the Detective Chief Inspector.
‘Report on my desk by noon today. Preferably with some progress.’
He groaned aloud. Uttered an expletive. He’d walked into that. There could be no excuse not to attend now – he had initiated a meeting. Cross would be expecting an update and he had virtually nothing to tell him except they had missed catching up with Molly McCardle. Well, that would go down like a lead balloon, especially as he wasn’t even supposed to be looking for her. He hated being on the back foot with the DCI but he was going to have to do some grovelling this time.
Vivienne Bailey stood before the whiteboard and she turned when she heard the swearing. “Oh dear. Somebody’s not happy.” She walked over to Jordan’s desk. “Any chance of a cup of coffee? I smell real coffee. Get me a decent drink and I’ll try and cheer you up a bit.”
“I’ll do it,” Terry said.
“Oh God. Well, I hope it’s better than your usual.”
“Yeah, well, this isn’t instant. This is good stuff. Black, no sugar, right?”
“Oh. You remembered. How sweet.”
“Now then.” She turned back to Jordan. “The dead woman’s shoes. They had thick soles, you probably noticed. Old lady shoes. Non-slip. A gift to us as it happens. As I mentioned in my report – I assume you bothered to read it?” She tilted the chair onto the two back legs and swung her feet round on to the corner of Jordan’s desk. Rocking back and forth.
He lifted the sheets of paper and wagged them at her. “I was just going to. I’ve been out,” he said.
Terry joined them. Vivienne sipped at the coffee and lifted her eyebrows in surprise. “Hey, Denn, this coffee’s not bad. You been taking lessons?”
She didn’t wait for a response. “Where was I? Oh yes, shoe soles. There was residue in there; turned out to be grain.”
“Grain?”
“Yeah, you know, the stuff your bread gets made from.”
“Flour then?” Jordan said.
“Not exactly.”
“Could it be from her kitchen?”
“No. God, will you just let me finish? This is imported stuff. I’ve had a colleague look at it. He reckons it’s from the EU. We import quite a lot of grain into Britain, and Liverpool has a long history of the trade. Have you ever seen the Corn Exchange? It’s a lovely old building. Course they’re effing it up now by converting it into a sodding Aparthotel or something. Anyway. We need to go to where they store this stuff. The place to start will be the container base and bulk storage ports. They have all manner of things there and my opinion is that your lady could have been there before she died,” Vivienne said.
“Bulk storage?”
“Yeah. Big ones are down in Seaforth – nice and handy for the docks and then for the Ship Canal and up into Manchester. That isn’t very far from where your old lady lived, is it? Pretty straightforward route, quick twenty minutes in a car. Of course, there are plenty of other options, flour mills for example. But we have to start somewhere, so where it comes into the country makes sense to me, and especially as that’s close to the deceased’s home.”
“So where does this grain come from?”
“Germany, France – a lot from France until we screw it all up leaving the European Union. We export it as well, once we’ve faffed about with it a bit, to Ireland, that’d be Eire.”
“How come you know all this?” Terry asked.
“Ha! Because, my little coffee-making friend, I listen. As I said, I consulted a colleague and he’s very knowledgeable,” Vivienne replied. “Verging on boring, truth be told, but there we are. Each to his own. Anyway, I need to go down there, and I expect you’ll want me to keep you informed.”
“When do you think you’ll be going?” Jordan asked.
“This affie. Mind you, it’s probably not going to be a quick job. I reckon I’m on to something but don’t expect news in the next few hours. To be honest, our best bet is spotting something interesting on their CCTV. Place is bristling with cameras, obviously. Then if we’re very lucky, we might have a clue where to start searching. Right, that’s it. I’m off. Stay safe. Be good. We still haven’t had that drink, Jordan. I don’t think you want to go out with me.”
“I do, it’s not that at all. Of course, I want to have a drink with you.”
“Well, okay. But I’m beginning to wonder. I think you’re scared of being seen with us ‘ladies’.”
Jordan looked up at Vivienne, her eyes twinkling, a smile twitching her lips. He nodded and grinned back. “Yeah. Soon as this is all squared away, for sure,” he said.
She gave a quick wave and swept from the room with Terry gazing after her. “I still can’t believe she’s not straight, boss. I’d be in there, no danger.”
“Stop kidding yourself, DC Denn, she’s way out of your league even if she didn’t have a very lovely partner.” Jordan turned to look at the door, stood quickly and strode across the room. “Vivienne.”
The SOCO sergeant turned. “Missing me already?” She laughed.
“Always. Looking at the CCTV, just keep in mind a dark-coloured car, possibly blue, would you?”
“Oh, yeah right, because they’re so rare, aren’t they?”
“I know but– well...”
“Make, model, plate number?”
“Sorry.” Jordan shook his head.
“Bloody Norah, don’t hold your breath.” She raised a hand in acknowledgement as she swung back and continued her march down the corridor.
Chapter 30
“So, not to put too fine a point on it, DI Carr, you have made no progress with the murder investigation and I think it’s mainly because you’ve been chasing after this other bloody woman. I distinctly remember telling you to concentrate on Mrs McCardle. She may be dead, DI Carr, but she is deserving of our full attention. Already the local papers are giving us a barracking. There have been comments on Radio Merseyside and I don’t appreciate having awkward conversations with the chief constable.” Richard Cross was standing in front of the window. He had his back to Jordan, his hands clasped behind him.
“I wouldn’t say we haven’t made any progress, sir. Sergeant Bailey is following up a very promising lead which may well tell us where Mrs McCardle was killed. I still feel, sir, that the disappearance of Molly McCardle is closely linked to her mother’s murder. It has to be. I
t doesn’t make any sense otherwise.”
The DCI turned and slid into the swivel chair behind his desk. He opened a jar of humbugs and stuffed two into his mouth, rattling the boiled sweets between his teeth. He sucked noisily. “Do you think this girl killed her mother?”
“No, sir, I don’t.”
“So, why are you chasing her all over Merseyside?”
“I wouldn’t say that exactly, sir.”
“Well, I bloody would. Let it go, Carr, let her go. Forget about appeals. Unless you have some strong evidence she is actually involved, forget about her. Do I make myself clear? You did well on the last murder, you are now hanging onto the residue of that success but let me explain something.” He paused and crunched at the humbugs. “Unless we start to see some genuine progress, things might very well change. I don’t want to have to bring in someone else, but it’s not beyond the bounds of possibility. Now, go and do the work you are paid for. Missing persons have the details of this Molly woman, leave them to do what they do – unless, of course, you would be happier moving from major crime into that department. You can go.”
“Thank you, sir.” Jordan walked along the corridor, back straight, chin up. Inside, he was seething. As he made his way back to the incident room with the thoughts swirling in his mind, he knew, no matter what DCI Cross said, no matter how much he railed and threatened, no matter how much he was putting his job on the line, he was going to continue to look for Molly McCardle. He truly did not believe she had killed her mother but that was only a part of this thing and he wanted her and her baby home safe. Yes, the missing persons department were aware of her, but she wasn’t underage, she wasn’t ancient and suffering from dementia, she wasn’t any sort of a priority for them and, more than likely, her name was on a list in a database and that was as far as it went.
He threw himself into his chair, closed his eyes and breathed slowly and deeply, attempting to slow his pounding heartbeat.
“Rough was it, boss?” Terry was beside the desk holding out a cup of coffee.
“It wasn’t fun, Terry. I get where he’s coming from, I really do. But in here,” – he tapped at his forehead – “and in here,” – he patted his chest – “I just know the two things are tied together. I understand she could just have run off because she’s upset and grief-stricken, but it just doesn’t gel. She’s a bit sheltered, mollycoddled – excuse the pun – and spoiled. However, her place of safety is that house and when you’re upset that’s where you go. I’m right, aren’t I?” As he asked the question, he wished he could swallow it back immediately. Not only was he putting the DC in a difficult position but showing weakness in command was the worst thing he could do. “Of course, I am,” he said.
“Of course you are, boss.” Terry winked at him.
“Right answer.”
He was rescued by the phone ringing. “Sergeant Bailey, give me some good news.”
“Okay.”
Jordan put the phone on speaker with the volume reduced. Terry leaned in closely.
“You know your blue car?” Bailey said. “The one you didn’t know the make, model or plate number of?”
“Yes.” Jordan frowned up at Terry.
“Well… I found it for you.”
“Bloody hell, do you really think so? How on earth could you do that?”
“Okay, don’t blow a fuse. Too much excitement is bad for a bloke your age. Let’s just say there is a dark blue car on the CCTV here, it’s left-hand drive, but seeing as you gave me so little to go on I don’t know if that’s important or not. Lovely Barry, the Port of Liverpool officer who is sitting here beside me, doesn’t recognise it even though it must have had a gate pass to get in. It entered the port late on Wednesday night. Barry wasn’t on duty then, but I imagine it will be interesting to find out just who was – sorry, Barry.” There was quiet muttering. “My friend Barry says you’d better make sure you’ve got your ducks in a row before you start throwing around any sorts of insinuations. I said I’d pass on the message. For his part, I want it noted he’s been really helpful and, bright spark that he is, remembered this one because it was the time that puzzled him. Late for anyone attending a meeting. All the offices would be closed. Not shift change time, just a bit random, etcetera. We followed it around the site on the footage, and I reckon now is the time when I tell you to get your arse down here and come and see what we’ve found. Bring a hat – it’s draughty by the river.”
“What have you found?”
“Oh, no. I want to see your pretty face when I show you. Come on, DI Carr, I’m waiting for you.”
Chapter 31
Sergeant Bailey was indeed waiting for them at the gatehouse. She had a mug in her hand. Steam curled upwards as she sipped at the hot drink. She slid the window aside. “Alright, Jordan. Won’t be a minute.” She gulped back what was left of her tea and with a touch on his arm, and a smile at Barry, she stepped out of the little shelter. “Follow the road down there and park next to my lot’s van. You will need to suit up, but I promise it’ll be worth it. I’ll walk down and join you.”
The evening was drawing in and the port began to take on a surreal atmosphere. Ships lining the docks swung at their moorings, reflected lights danced on the waves. Floodlights were activated and shadows around the cranes and containers changed the place into something almost otherworldly. Jordan stood for a while watching the play of lights on the river and the scud of clouds across the sky, underlit by the glow from the city.
He turned back to the job at hand and pulled on the shoe covers, gloves and the mask they had been given. Bailey led them down a gap between massive warehouses and under suspended walkways. It was a strange and alien world. The drizzle that had begun earlier glittered silver as it fell past the floodlights. From nowhere came the thought that little Harry would be entranced at this ‘fairyland’. The thought of his son brought into Jordan’s mind the missing Molly McCardle and her baby. He hoped whatever it was that Vivienne Bailey had to show him wouldn’t be to do with the young woman. He shook the thoughts aside as they entered the building and he focused on his surroundings.
There were piles and piles of stuffed sacks lying on wooden pallets. Though attempts had been made to keep the floors clean, he noted the pale grit in corners and around the edges of the stacks. It began to make sense now. There was a prefabricated office in one corner of the warehouse, and it was crowded with white-suited SOC officers. There was the flash of a camera as pictures were recorded. Pushed up against one wall there was a small desk and chair. A metal filing cabinet stood alongside. Evidence tents had been placed on the plastic floor tiles and a safe route created with metal stepping plates.
“Come on then, Carr, have a look at this. I’m moving it as soon as you’ve seen it, but I thought it would be useful for you to get the whole picture. Don’t say I never think about you.” Sergeant Bailey was pointing at a small white object lying on the ground. It was a handkerchief, white cotton with a lace edge. In one corner was a tiny, embroidered shape. Sergeant Bailey picked it up with tweezers. Before she slid it into the plastic evidence envelope, she held it closer so Jordan and Terry could see the thing more clearly.
“It’s a leaf or a flower,” Terry said.
“Actually, it’s a shamrock.” Bailey stuffed it into the bag, labelled it and handed it to one of the technicians to stow safely away in the crate. “So, I’m thinking older lady – most people use tissues these days. Okay, now come with me.” She took them outside to a narrow car park at the edge of the dock. “According to the log Barry showed me, the security lights in this area were faulty on Wednesday and the maintenance crew reported broken bulbs. The last recorded image of the vehicle was just over there.” She pointed towards a larger parking area around the corner of the building. “The problem with the lights is not unknown apparently. This is a very heavy work area, big equipment moving about and accidents happen. But this was noted as unusual with all of them being out at one time and there was mention of possible vandali
sm. The camera was also out of service for a while and they found a broken cable.” She flicked air quotes around the word ‘broken’.
A scene tent had been erected and the generator hummed noisily in the background, the echo rattling off the corrugated steel sides of the warehouse. They could only just hear the gentle ripple and gurgle of the water sliding past.
On the ground inside the protective cover, Vivienne Baily pointed to a darkened patch of tarmac. “I reckon if we’d found this a couple of days ago there would have been more debris. In my opinion, something has been burned here, there is evidence of the surface beginning to melt and then reset.”
“A picture is beginning to form, isn’t it?” Jordan said.
“I rather think so. I wonder if the intention was to dump the body over the side or, was it just a safe place to do the evil deed? One thing’s for sure. When we find that car, the boot is going to be a cornucopia of evidence. I’ll send you a full report as soon as we’ve finished processing the scene, but it will take a day or two at least. There’s a lot of stuff to move inside. But, Jordan, I truly believe we have found your crime scene. I’ll come clean and admit it was actually an informed lucky guess on my part. My uncle used to work on the docks and my aunty was always complaining about the muck on his shoes. There were so many other options for the origins of the residue, but it just rang a little bell in the back of my mind.”
“Well, thank goodness for your uncle, and your aunty and, for that matter, the little bell in the back of your mind. Thanks so much, Viv. At least now I’ve got something to report. I’ll have a word with Barry before I go. We need to start some investigation into how they got in and I’m afraid that’s not going to make us very popular with the port police.”
“No, but a bent copper is a bent copper, Jordan, and I don’t have any sympathy. Oh yes, in case you were going to ask. The cameras do have ANPR but guess what – the number was obscured.”
Body by the Docks: detectives investigate a baffling mystery Page 10