Foreign Bodies

by Colin A Millar

  She rushed downstairs to where she had left her phone, lying on the arm of a settee. Making to dial DC Handley she realised it was 11 in the evening and he would likely have left for the day. She scrabbled through her purse and bag, sure she had a business card of his somewhere in there. Eventually, she found it and dialled his mobile number.

  It rang for some time but eventually a very tired and groggy-sounding Handley answered.

  ‘Detective Handley, it’s Charlotte Travers,’ Charlotte said with a note of urgency in her voice. ‘I may have some information for you regarding Marcus’ whereabouts.’

  Handley made a noise she couldn’t decipher although she imagined he was shifting in his bed in order to better take the call.

  ‘What is it you have, Mrs Travers?’ he said, suddenly sounding more awake. ‘We already have one good lead on where he might be but another would be very helpful.’

  ‘Oh, you have a lead?’ Charlotte asked. ‘Well, it may be the same one. Anyway, I was reminded just now of something Sir Frederick Derringham said to me the other night – we met by chance while I was out – and I thought it a very likely place Marcus might go.’

  ‘OK,’ was all Handley said.

  ‘His parents had a house up in Scotland, quite far north I believe. Anyway, they didn’t leave it to Marcus when they died – they left it to the church, apparently. Sir Frederick said it didn’t appear to cause Marcus too much grief but I thought it might be somewhere he would go if he wanted to hide.’

  ‘That’s very interesting, Mrs Travers,’ Handley said. ‘That’s two properties in Scotland we can search now. Do you have any further details?’

  ‘I’m afraid not, no,’ Charlotte replied. ‘All I can give you is his parents’ names – Gregor and Elspeth Travers. I don’t really know much about them and even less about their house. Would you be able to trace it with just their names?’

  ‘Yes that may well be possible, Mrs Travers. Thank you, I’ll get straight onto it and let you know what I can when I can. Good night.’

  Charlotte hung up the call and slumped onto the settee. She was suddenly exhausted and drifted into sleep with a feeling of satisfaction that she might at last have come up with something that would lead her and the police to Marcus.

  Two properties? – she thought, just before she dropped into the obliviousness of sleep.

  *

  The alarm woke Handley at five in the morning. He groaned and turned over, readying to slam a hand onto the snooze button. Then he recalled that he, Pearson and Tanner were meant to be heading to Scotland and he was driving. And now he had to tell them of a second property that needed checking before they left – one that they had no address for at this time. The two could be next door to each other or 400 miles apart!

  Still groaning and grumbling, he climbed out of bed and headed for the coffee jar.

  While the kettle boiled, he put a call into the station knowing he’d catch whoever was still on from the night shift. It was Mallen who answered.

  ‘Sonia, it’s Tony,’ Handley said, cutting her off as she was giving her name. ‘I need you to find the address of a property for me. All I know is it’s in Scotland and at some point it was owned by a Gregor and Elspeth Travers, and was subsequently bequeathed to the church.’

  ‘You’re not asking much, are you Tony?’ Mallen replied dryly. ‘And a “good morning” would have been nice. A “how was your shift?” even better.’

  ‘Sorry, Sonia,’ Handley said, trying to sound contrite but only getting as far as slightly bothered. ‘I’ve got to drive up there today with Tanner and Pearson so I’m pretty edgy right now. And it’s five in the morning. I could do with the info before we leave which is in two hours, so I can plan our route.’

  ‘You forget I’ve been here all night, Tony, so I know it’s five in the morning,’ Sonia replied without too much rancour. ‘OK leave it with me, do you want me to call or text you the address? If I find it.’

  ‘Cheers, Sonia, text it me please.’

  Call made, Handley dressed and packed a small overnight bag. He had enough time for another coffee before he had to collect DCI Tanner and DCS Pearson, so settled down at the kitchen table. God, he thought, nine hours or more of driving all the way to bloody Scotland! He couldn’t see why they couldn’t request the local force go check the property out but DCS Pearson had been adamant that they go in person.

  ‘Look,’ Pearson had said the afternoon before, ‘we’ve got more than enough for the murder of Julia Metcalfe and a decent amount on him for The Charmer murders too – we have to bring him in. And yes, I know the local force could do it but if he is The Charmer, I want to be the one who brings him in.’

  Neither Handley nor Tanner could find an argument to counter him.

  That previous afternoon had been something of a blur, after Handley had returned from Pearson’s office. The lab report Mallen had brought over to Handley had confirmed that the DNA found in the second hair sample from the scene in Bristol didn’t match with any DNA found at any of the other scenes, ruling out the other individual as a suspect and therefore keeping Travers as top of the list.

  With the CCTV images still bothering him, Handley had headed back out the office to find Tanner and Pearson and bring them up to speed. He found them exactly where he expected – out the back of the station, cigarettes at full steam.

  ‘We have an address and something further on the CCTV,’ Handley had said, trying to keep downwind of the smoke.

  ‘Great, where is the address and what have you got?’ Pearson had asked, taking a last drag and stubbing his cigarette.

  ‘Address is in Scotland and the CCTV could – and I have to say only could – show Marcus Travers at four places where victims were also seen on the same nights they were killed.’ Handley was still unsure whether to raise what bothered him about the images so had chosen to keep quiet.

  ‘Excellent,’ Tanner had said, clapping his hands together, ‘let’s go inside and look at what we’ve got and decide how we play it from there.’

  Less than 10 minutes later they were all back around Pearson’s desk, looking at the CCTV images. Pearson and Tanner had listened to Handley explain the recent lab results and his discoveries around the mysterious address Julia Metcalfe had had in her address book..

  ‘I’ll get on to Scotland as soon as we’re done,’ Pearson had said. He looked back down at the images on his desk and then back up at Handley. ‘You seem a bit reticent about these, Tony? Don’t you think there’s enough of a likeness?’

  ‘It’s partly that, sir,’ Handley had replied cautiously. He didn’t want to say anything that might get scoffed at by the two senior officers in the room. ‘I mean, there are some really obvious differences between the four images – hair colour, dress, and even in the case of the third one here a potential difference in height, if you compare them all. And yes, I can see the similarity with Marcus Travers but equally I can see that it could actually be someone else.’

  ‘Anyone in particular Tony?’ Tanner had asked.

  ‘I can’t be totally sure, sir. But this could equally be Sir Frederick Derringham,’ Handley had replied, keeping the note of caution in his voice.

  ‘Could it?’ Tanner responded. ‘I’ve never met him so I couldn’t say. But so what? Lots of people look alike and why on earth would you think it’s him? There’s been nothing to make us look at him in connection to this. In fact, you interviewed him to try and find Travers and you didn’t raise any doubts then. So why now?’

  ‘I suppose I hadn’t really noticed a likeness before and now the address we have happens to belong to Sir Frederick, which might just have made me wonder,’ Handley had said, beginning to feel a little foolish.

  ‘Look,’ Pearson had said firmly, ‘all the evidence we have points to Travers being responsible for the murder of Julia Metcalfe. That’s what we’re after him for right now. Anything to do with The Charmer will be looked at once we have him in custody. There is nothing we have that points to S
ir Frederick Derringham at all. And I have met him too and yes, it does look a little like him but it also looks a lot like Marcus Travers to me. So, we’re going for Travers – let’s not start muddying the waters again, ok?’

  Handley and Tanner nodded in unison. Pearson had made himself perfectly clear and there would be no arguing from that point on.

  Pearson had called Police Scotland while they were still in the office and surprised both Handley and Tanner by requesting they just drive past the property to see if there was any sign of life but not approach.

  They were even more surprised when he had said, ‘My colleagues and I will be driving up tomorrow to investigate further so please have the local station ready to meet us when we get there.’

  ‘We’re going up there?’ Tanner had asked – then remembering it was not just him and Pearson in the room, added, ‘Er, sir?’

  It was at that point that Pearson had made it clear that they were going because if anyone was going to collar The Charmer – whoever that turned out to be – it would be him.

  *

  The drive north proved to be more interminable than even Handley’s most pessimistic forecast – nearly 500 miles, over 10 hours of driving with Pearson in the passenger seat and Tanner in the back. There were long periods of silence over the journey, with Handley still wondering about the likeness between Derringham and Travers, and Pearson flicking through files and brooding over The Charmer cases, past and present. Tanner was just brooding.

  As they pulled into Knutsford services on the M6 Handley’s phone chimed. It was the expected text from DC Mallen with the address of the property once owned by Travers’ parents. The message ended with the line, ‘This took fucking ages Handley you owe me seriously big time!’ Checking the time, Handley realised just how much time Mallen must have spent on it after her shift had finished and made a mental note to make sure Tanner knew about it.

  The new address was searched for over coffee and sandwiches and turned out to be a little under 20 miles north of Derringham’s cottage. It was agreed they would continue as planned to Derringham’s place first and then have the local officer accompany them to the Travers’ old house, should they need to. With that, it was back to more mind-numbing driving.

  As they crossed the border Tanner piped up from the back seat, ‘My dad was a Scot, you know?’

  ‘Really?’ said Pearson, turning in his seat to look back at Tanner. ‘You never told me that before, Malcolm.’

  ‘Didn’t really come up before, Fran. He was from Greenock, the miserable old sod. Mind you, I visited the place once and it all made sense. No wonder the old bugger never cracked a smile.’

  Pearson and Tanner shared a chuckle. Handley found it strange and a little disconcerting to hear his senior officers chatting in such a casual manner but attempted a light-hearted chuckle. I’m going to have a headache before we get to Glasgow, he thought.

  Eventually, and to Handley’s marked relief, they made it to the police station in Aberdeen – where Pearson had been told to collect their local officer from. With moans about aching backs and cramped legs the three of them entered the station. It was now nearly six in the evening and they were an hour later than Pearson had promised. Fortunately, they had phoned ahead with progress reports and the officer they were to meet had agreed to stay on and wait for them.

  Sergeant Donald Monaghan arrived in the reception area five minutes later. He was of average height and build with a square, strong face and hands far larger than his frame would suggest. The only one who appeared to hold his own during the handshakes was Handley and that was because he had witnessed the bone-crushing grips applied to Pearson and Tanner. With the introductions over they headed back out to the car.

  ‘It’s not too long a drive out, you’ll be pleased to know DC Handley,’ Monaghan stated as they climbed in the car.

  Handley noted the similarity between Monaghan and Sir Frederick Derringham’s accents, although Derringham’s sounded slightly more anglicised. Handley wondered if that was a result of years in England mixing with well-spoken types on a daily basis or whether Derringham had always sounded that way. He also wondered if this was how Marcus Travers sounded. It seemed odd to Handley that he felt he knew Marcus Travers inside and out by now but that he had never heard the man speak.

  Monaghan explained they were heading towards a place called Kintore, with the property they were after just outside that small town.

  ‘I drove past it twice yesterday after you phoned, Detective Chief Superintendent Pearson. In the afternoon and at seven after I clocked off. And again this morning, early,’ Monaghan said, the lilt in his voice giving it a sing-song quality.

  ‘Good man,’ Pearson replied, ‘did you see anything?’

  ‘No, not really,’ Monaghan answered. ‘There were no lights on at any of the times I went past and I couldn’t see any sign of damage from the road – no windows broken or anything obvious like that.’

  ‘OK, well thanks for keeping an eye. He might not be here but we have a second address that we want to check out.’ Pearson gave Monaghan the details.

  ‘Aye, I know where that is. It’s a wee way from where we’re heading, mind.’

  ‘Still, I’d like to go there tonight if he’s not at this one. Hope we’re not keeping you from anything important, Sergeant Monaghan?’

  ‘Nah, only Mrs Monaghan and the soaps, sir.’

  ‘Glad to hear it.’

  The cottage was a large well-kept property situated down a one-track road about two miles outside Kintore. The area, whilst very attractive, was a lot flatter than Handley had imagined. There were no heather-clad mountains to be seen, no great glens or impressive rivers. But, he conceded, he could see why Sir Frederick Derringham would want to have a retreat out here – it was incredibly peaceful and tranquil.

  They parked the car across the front gates – blocking a potential escape route as much as possible – and walked up to the front door, Pearson leading the way. As they were making their way along the short path Tanner laid his hand on Handley’s arm, turning him slightly. Handley looked at his boss who, without speaking, nodded towards Pearson and then lifted his finger to his eye before pointing it back at the senior officer. Handley nodded, message understood.

  Handley had noticed slight but tell-tale signs that Pearson had been getting more and more tense as they neared the cottage. He reasoned that his boss was readying himself for an arrest but also that the years of stress and tension from his failure to capture The Charmer were now weighing heavily on him. Handley could see, and it appeared so could Tanner, that Pearson was too uptight, too tense and too ready for action. And, that if Marcus Travers did decide to cause trouble, this might prove to be an unhealthy state of mind for a policeman to be in at the time of an arrest.

  Pearson was no longer young and lacked the fitness and muscle Handley and Tanner could supply – if Travers kicked off Pearson could get hurt. On the other hand, in his wound-up state, Pearson could go in with a little too much force and Travers could get hurt, and that could jeopardise the whole operation and subsequent case.

  As Pearson strode up to and knocked on the front door, Handley manoeuvred himself so that he would be the first through should it be answered. It wasn’t.

  A second, longer, more persistent and louder knock also proved fruitless. Pearson looked round and indicated that Tanner should go around the property one way and Monaghan the other – both obliged silently. Handley moved to the window at the front of the house, to the left of the door, with a disturbing sense of déjà vu. Not again, he thought.

  But the room he could see through the window was a neat and tidy office, and as far as Handley could tell – untouched and free of any bodies.

  Tanner and Monaghan appeared back round the front at much the same time.

  ‘Place seems empty, sir,’ Tanner said as he rounded the corner. ‘No lights on, no sign in any of the rooms I could see that anyone’s recently been in them. There’s no cups or dishes in
the kitchen. In fact, everything looks pristine.’

  Pearson grunted.

  ‘Right,’ he said gruffly, ‘let’s go in. Handley, you know where Sir Frederick keeps the spare key?’

  ‘Yes, sir,’ Handley replied and moved to the right of the door. The doorway had a ledge built in above it – Handley reached up and felt along the top edge, eventually locating the key that was stuck there with blu-tack.

  ‘We have got permission to enter, haven’t we Tony?’ Pearson asked as Handley was about to insert the key in the lock.

  ‘Yes sir, I called Sir Frederick back and he was happy to oblige,’ Handley replied, recalling Derringham’s protestations and final grudging acquiescence.

  The four of them entered the house and split up to check each of the rooms. Within five minutes it was clear to all of them that Marcus Travers wasn’t there. Pearson still wanted the place thoroughly checked over before they left. There might still be signs that Marcus Travers had been there.

  Tanner and Pearson took the downstairs rooms whilst Handley and Monaghan took the first floor. There were three bedrooms and a bathroom upstairs and all three rooms looked undisturbed.

  It seemed reasonably clear to all of them that nobody had been in the cottage any time recently – including Marcus Travers. Just before they went to leave Handley thought to check the large free-standing wardrobe he’d seen in the last of the three bedrooms he’d looked in.

  ‘Jesus, Handley,’ Tanner grumbled, ‘why didn’t you check it before?’

  Handley mumbled an excuse and headed back upstairs.

  The bedroom was larger than the other two and Handley surmised this would be Sir Frederick’s room. Previously, he had only given it a cursory look from the door; this time as he entered the room he gave it more attention. The room was large enough to accommodate the king-size bed with accompanying bedside cabinets, two large chests of drawers and the wardrobe. There was a full-length mirror attached to the wall between the drawers. Sir Frederick’s impeccable dress sense clearly applied to his days off too, thought Handley, surveying the mirror.