The DCI Yorke Series Boxset

by Wes Markin

  Lacey looked and, for the first time in a long while, she was genuinely surprised. It was her first boyfriend; the one she’d been thinking of earlier as she passed Deacons.

  ‘Hello,’ Lacey said.

  ‘Hi Lacey,’ DS Jake Pettman said, nodding. ‘It’s been a long time.’

  As Jake indicated left at the traffic lights, Lacey said, ‘So, if I hadn’t have come willingly, would you have arrested me?’

  ‘Why? You’ve done nothing wrong, have you?’

  ‘And what do you define as wrong? We used to get up to all sorts of things which could be considered wrong.’

  She watched his Adam’s apple flicker up and down as he gulped. The light went green and he made his turn.

  ‘This is precisely why I won’t be the one interviewing you. History.’

  ‘Too much or not enough? We could make some more.’

  Jake laughed as he slowed for another traffic light. She laughed too, but not because it was a joke, but rather because he thought it was.

  He looked at his watch and sighed. ‘I have to make it back to your brother’s before my boss does or he won’t be happy. I should just have got someone to pick you up.’

  ‘You could run me back to my flat, it’s nearer. There’s no need to bother with an interview, I won’t be able to help you.’

  ‘You’ll be surprised. Help comes from unlikely sources in situations like this,’ Jake said, moving through the traffic lights and heading towards a roundabout.

  ‘I haven’t seen Paul in five years.’

  ‘Still ...’ Jake peeled left off the roundabout.

  Lacey noticed a card in the car door pocket. She picked it up.

  Jake Pettman, personal trainer. Below that was his e-mail and mobile number.

  ‘Personal trainer now?’

  ‘Tried to get something set up, but it’s so slow at the moment and I’m too busy.’

  She pretended to put it back, and then slipped it into her pocket instead. He didn’t seem to notice.

  ‘We could meet up for a drink to catch up,’ she said, only realised the stupidity of her suggestion on the last word. He’s a policeman – what are you doing?

  ‘I’m married, Lacey.’

  ‘Most of the men I meet see marriage as a rather challenging institution.’

  ‘It’s probably best not to stereotype men from those you meet in your line of work.’

  She flinched. So you know about my profession? ‘I don’t know what you mean.’

  He looked at her with the ghost of a smile on his face.

  Judgement? Quit while you’re ahead if I were you.

  ‘How could you degrade yourself like that?’ he said, taking the turning into the station.

  Lacey clutched the handle on the car door hard. She was surprised. She only usually felt sudden surges of irritation when manhandled.

  ‘So, that’s a “no” to the drink?’

  Jake rolled his eyes, parked the car and led her round to the reception entrance.

  ‘You know, it’s been ten years, you could have been more polite,’ she said.

  He opened the door for her. ‘I was being polite. What you do is illegal ― whatever you say to me, I will have to follow up on. It’s best you save it for your interviewer.’

  As she passed him, she said, ‘What’s happened to you, Jake, when did you get so serious?’

  ‘When I got married. You should try it.’

  After checking her in, he pointed to a chair among a group of people from the school. ‘Wait over there. It’ll be about five minutes before someone comes to collect you.’

  ‘I’ll be in touch,’ she said, waving over her shoulder.

  Sitting down, she noticed him lingering by the reception desk, probably concerned she might make a run for it. When she smiled over at him, he pretended not to notice. She slipped her hand in her pocket and thumbed the corner of his business card.

  The promised five minutes quickly passed; during which time, a large, suited man sat down beside her. Fearful of awakening the need for the Blue Room, she tried to stave off the irritation that her judgemental ex-boyfriend had aroused in her by flirting with the large man.

  ‘I’ve always hated waiting,’ she said and smiled. ‘Unless I have someone to talk to, of course.’

  He glanced at her without turning his head. An anticlimactic reply was a long time coming. ‘I’ve never seen you at school before.’

  ‘And why do you assume I’m from the school?’

  ‘Everyone else is.’

  ‘Really? Why are you all here?’

  ‘A young boy has gone missing. This is our second interview of the day.’

  ‘A young boy? A child? Who would do such a thing?’ She paused. ‘What’s your name?’

  He tucked his long black hair behind his ears to reveal a wide, strong jaw; she noticed he was struggling to hold eye contact with her. No worries. She was used to men being shy around her.

  ‘My name’s Phil Holmes, I’m the IT specialist at the school.’

  Nodding at a cluster of people chatting opposite them, she said, ‘How come you’re not over there with them?’

  ‘They don’t like me.’

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘Don’t know. Maybe it’s because the school pay me more.’

  ‘Does it now?’ She said and smiled at him.

  He managed to hold eye-contact with her for a longer moment than last time. Good, now we’re making progress ...

  ‘My name’s Lacey Ray.’

  His eyes widened.

  She said, ‘Sorry ― I should have been honest with you. Paul is my nephew.’

  Phil started to fiddle with his watch. ‘I’m sorry for what you and your family are going through.’

  ‘Thanks.’

  ‘Lacey Ray?’ A tall, thin policeman said. ‘I’m PC Sean Tyler. I’m here to take you to an interview room.’

  ‘Could I have a second?’

  ‘Of course,’ Tyler said. ‘I’ll wait over there.’ He pointed to a door out of the waiting room and walked over to it.

  She turned back to Phil. ‘Do you have a pen?’

  ‘Yes.’ Phil’s hand delved into his suit pocket and re-emerged with a biro. She pried it from his fingers, drew his large hand toward her, and inked her mobile number onto the back of it. ‘As you earn more than everyone else in this room, pick somewhere nice for dinner.’

  He nodded and she left him to follow Tyler through the door.

  While parking, Yorke saw Jake locking his car. As he jogged over to him, he fastened the silver brass buttons on his muddy brown jacket, but didn’t bother with the strap and buckle; it banged awkwardly against his thigh. ‘I thought you were in there already.’

  ‘I was. Joe Ray’s sister made an appearance. I drove her to the station to be interviewed.’

  ‘Lacey Ray?’

  Jake looked at him for the first time since Yorke had caught up with him. He nodded.

  ‘Your ex?’

  ‘Uh-huh, which is why I gave the honour of interviewing her to someone else. Update?’

  ‘Joe Ray’s phone has been collected. I’ve tried contacting Harry, but there’s no answer, so I eventually succumbed to Mark’s demands and sent some uniforms to pick him up.’

  They approached a large whitewashed cottage on Crane Bridge Road, opposite the town path ― a popular, gritty walkway he ran on regularly. After bridging the river, it sliced through a large park and offered spectacular views of the cathedral, before climaxing at a riverside medieval pub, The Old Mill. Yorke often joined some of the locals for a game of backgammon there.

  ‘Imagine owning a place worth half a million?’ Jake said, eyeing the cottage up and down as they crossed the road.

  ‘The Rays have never wanted for anything since that grotty pig farm made a fortune. Joe put some of his money to use on an expensive little shop in town that sells old colonial style furniture imported from China.’

  ‘I know all about it. Sheila has spent a small for
tune in that shop.’

  Yorke knocked and within seconds, Family Liaison Officer, Bryan Kelly, opened the cottage door and shouting spilled out onto the porch. Bryan shrugged; big cheeks which old women liked to pinch, wobbled.

  ‘They’ve been drinking hard to calm down, but it seems to have had the opposite effect,’ Bryan said, reducing his voice to a hiss. ‘I told them it wasn’t a good idea. But since when can you tell someone, with a crystal decanter costing more than you earn in a month, what to do?’

  He led them into the piping hot cottage. Yorke and Jake peeled off their jackets as they walked down a corridor lined with framed pictures of Joe Ray as a teenage show jumper. Bryan went ahead and when Yorke and Jake entered the sitting room, they saw him kneeling before the Rays. ‘It’s important that we all stay calm.’

  Sarah turned her head away. ‘Easier said than done. You don’t know what this man is like.’

  The room had too much black furniture for Yorke’s liking. The Christmas tree, the off-white rug and the glow of the dying fire embers brought some variation to the room, but there were no bright colours; he wondered if the Rays had been through the house and stripped them away following the kidnapping of their son.

  Bryan stood up and turned to Yorke and Jake. ‘I’ve got a few calls to make.’

  ‘That’s okay,’ Yorke said.

  Yorke looked down at the troubled couple. Sarah stared into space as she lifted the crystal glass to her lips. Joe was fidgety; his eyes were darting around the room and he seemed unable to focus on anything. ‘Mr and Mrs Ray, this is DS Pettman, I believe you met briefly just before he took your sister to the station.’

  Joe’s wandering eyes settled on Yorke’s face. ‘Yes. Take a seat.’

  ‘Thank you,’ Yorke said, taking a step forward.

  ‘Your shoes first,’ Sarah said without looking at them. ‘Please.’

  Yorke looked down at the rug which was soaking up the snow crumbling from his boots. ‘Yes, of course.’

  They both slipped back out of the room to deposit them at the front door.

  Back in the room, Yorke reached down and picked up a dog-eared Isaac Asimov book from the sofa before he sat. He remembered Jake telling him about the Asimov books which he’d seen in Paul’s room earlier.

  ‘Paul’s?’ Yorke said, reaching over and putting it on the table.

  ‘Yes,’ Sarah said. ‘Didn’t bother to put it away. It’s the first thing he’ll look for when he gets back.’

  Yorke nodded. ‘You mentioned he was a book worm.’

  Sarah forced a smile.

  Jake sat down to the right-hand side of Yorke, nudging against him as he tried to get comfortable. Jake was such a big man that he made everything and everyone around him seem small and in the way.

  ‘Cup of tea?’ Bryan said.

  Jake nodded; Yorke shook his head.

  ‘Before we get to the logistics of tomorrow’s ransom drop, I need you to answer an important question.’

  ‘Go on.’

  ‘When was the last time you saw your uncle, Thomas Ray?’

  ‘I wondered how long it would take you to get onto that one.’

  Sarah said, ‘We haven’t seen him in years. Not since the trial.’

  ‘Is that the same for both of you?’ Yorke said, staring directly at Joe.

  ‘Yes, of course. We also had very little to do with him before all that happened with the nurse. We’ve spent most of our lives distancing ourselves from the farm and that part of my family.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Why do you think, Detective? They’ve never been anything but trouble.’

  ‘Current events in mind, Mr Ray, that trouble does seem to have followed you.’

  Joe sighed. ‘Yes, it has. I thought all that history was over and done with.’

  ‘So, do you think the kidnapping has any connection to your uncle or the farm?’

  ‘I can’t see how it could be connected.’

  Yorke looked through his notes. ‘I haven’t seen the video. Your laptop is at the station, but I have a thorough breakdown. The kidnapper wears a pig’s face; slaughters three pigs; introduces the video with “Pig productions”; there’s pig’s blood at the school and someone wrote us the message “In the Blood”. Are you really telling me you haven’t thought about the connection to your family?’

  ‘I haven’t,’ Joe said. ‘The last I heard my uncle was dying. A social worker contacted us, asking for our help. I refused. A man like that does not deserve any compassion.’

  ‘Well, he hasn’t been shown any. He’s been murdered.’

  Yorke carefully watched Joe’s face; his mouth hung open and he took two sharp inhalations through his nose, causing his mole to tremble. The shock looked genuine. Beside him, Sarah had her hand to her mouth.

  ‘What?’ Joe said.

  ‘It’s not on the news yet but I just came from his farm, it’s definitely him―’

  ‘Who did it?’ Sarah said.

  ‘It may be the same person who abducted your son. I can’t really see it being a coincidence. We really need to know of anyone who has a grudge against your family.’

  ‘We’ve told you absolutely everything we know, I’ve been through every customer on my database, and I’ve given you all those names you asked for.’ He glanced at Sarah as he said this and she looked away. ‘There really isn’t anybody else I can think of.’

  ‘The man we caught on the CCTV footage coming out of the school was disguised as your uncle. We know this because Thomas Ray has been dead for days. Is there anyone on that list you gave us who has a similar appearance to your uncle, a similar build perhaps?’

  ‘No, I don’t think so,’ Joe said and finished his glass of bourbon in one quick mouthful. ‘What about that detective whose wife was killed? Wouldn’t he have reason to kill my uncle?’

  Sarah opened her medicine bottle with shaking hands and swallowed a white tablet with her sherry. Yorke could feel Jake move in the chair beside him and heard his trousers squeak on the leather.

  ‘That is being considered, and if anything comes of it, you will be the first to know,’ Jake said.

  Yorke looked at Jake and with a swift nod of his head offered him a thank you for delivering the brush off so calmly and concisely.

  Yorke saw something in the corner of the room which made his eyes widen. ‘That chair.’ He nodded at a rocking chair with a back like a birdcage. ‘Was it your uncle’s?’

  ‘Of course not.’

  ‘That’s funny, because it’s a dead ringer for the one that Thomas Ray shot Dawn Butler from. Where did you get it?’

  ‘There are several in the family. Our great-grandfather used to make them.’

  ‘Good with his hands, was he?’ Yorke said.

  ‘Yes, when he wasn’t farming, he was a real craftsman.’

  And a child-killer, thought Yorke.

  Bryan Kelly looked into the room from the door. ‘Sir?’

  ‘Excuse me,’ Yorke said and joined Bryan in the hallway.

  ‘I just got a call from the station, they said they tried you, but you weren’t picking up.’

  Yorke took his phone out of his pocket and saw that he’d accidently knocked it onto silent. Two missed calls. ‘Shit. Go on.’

  ‘They’ve located Harry. He clocked off twenty minutes ago from a taxi firm he’s working for; the manager there knocked back an offer to join him at the Haunch of Venison for a drink. Shall I have him picked up from the Haunch?’

  Very public, Yorke thought, and exactly what I wanted to avoid. ‘No, Bryan. I’ll go as soon as I’ve finished here.’

  When Yorke came back into the room, he saw that Sarah had wandered over to the patio door and was staring outside. He looked at Jake, who shrugged.

  ‘Okay, we need to discuss the ransom drop.’

  Joe said, ‘It didn’t seem like a lot of money to me – why go to so much effort for fifty grand?’

  ‘To some it’s a lot of money and a massive motivation. It’s
also an amount that can be accessed overnight.’

  ‘Yes, the money is already confirmed, I was to collect it from the bank in the morning.’

  Sarah, who was staring out of the patio doors on the other side of the room, said, ‘And then I have to deliver it.’

  The pills, the alcohol, the OCD, we’ll have to give that serious consideration, thought Yorke.

  Yorke said, ‘We have to have the money marked.’

  ‘It can be washed anyway, can’t it?’ Joe said.

  ‘It’s hard, but there are ways. But rest assured that we will have the area under surveillance and a tracker with the money. It’s very difficult for them to succeed these days, hence the reason we haven’t had a case like this in a while.’

  Sarah, who was cleaning the patio door with the sleeve of her dressing gown, said, ‘Am I going to get my son back tomorrow, Detective?’

  She focused her polishing on an area which was already sparkling. Was she imagining dirt there, a smudge perhaps?

  Yorke said, ‘The Tesco he’s chosen is quite closed in – a peculiar choice. We’ll have an excellent chance of retrieving your son and catching the kidnapper.’

  If he comes.

  Sarah abandoned her cleaning and turned to look at him. ‘Remember what you promised us?’

  ‘I remember.’

  Jake looked at him with a confused look on his face. Yorke shrugged.

  After sweeping the Asimov book up from the table, Sarah stormed out of the room.

  After finishing her interview, Lacey walked outside and phoned Jake. When he answered the phone, she smiled. Pass judgement over me, will you? You’ll rue that decision.

  ‘So, have you thought any more about that drink?’

  ‘Lacey? How did you get this number?’

  ‘Maybe I need a personal trainer.’

  He didn’t reply.

  ‘You sound like you’re driving.’

  ‘I am, I’m heading to HQ ... shit, I’m hanging up now, this is totally inappropriate, and I’m very busy.’

  ‘Hanging up is no way to treat someone who has missed you for ten years.’

  ‘What? Bye, Lacey―’

  ‘Hang up and I’ll contact Sheila.’