Now she had registration numbers for two red cars. By now Winder should have checked the details Drake had given him of the car that the witness had seen outside Hopkin’s home. Luned guessed Winder had forgotten. He had disappeared somewhere after lunch so she decided to get it done herself. She found the details from the witness statement of Zandra Tonks and typed the letters RTF into the system.
Her hands shook slightly as she waited.
The results of her search for the orange car and the fragment RTF appeared moments later. The search for the owner of the red car, still frozen on her screen, was pending.
It pleased her that she was right in checking the orange car as the result confirmed Gloria Patton as its owner. She clicked on the details for the red car with the fragment RTF. It was registered to a local business, Apollo Fruit and Veg. A Google search quickly established they were a wholesaler in Rhyl. Winder had still not returned so she seized the initiative and rang the number, knowing he might be irritated that she had been doing his work.
A girl with a singsong voice answered the call.
‘I’d like to speak to the owner of the business, please?’
‘I’ll put you through to Reg.’
Luned got into her stride; nobody had asked her who she was or why she wanted to speak to Reg.
‘Reg Walker,’ the voice announced. ‘How can I help?’
‘I’m Detective Constable Luned Thomas.’ She liked the way the title sounded. ‘We want to establish the ownership of a red Ford Fiesta.’ She glanced at the screen, citing the full registration details.
‘What about it?’
‘The car is registered to your company and I’d like to know who has the use of the vehicle.’
‘It’s a knackered-out old car. We use it occasionally if deliveries are late or if some of the other cars are broken down.’
‘It would help, Mr Walker, if you can tell us who has been using the car in the last couple of weeks.’ Luned tried to sound as relaxed as she could.
‘What was the registration number again?’
Luned repeated the details.
‘Give me a minute, love. I’ll check.’
She heard a hand over the mouthpiece and Walker bellowing something she couldn’t quite make out. Then the sound of conversation with another person. ‘Are you still there?’ Walker said. ‘Sorry about the delay. I wanted to check that that’s the one I gave Roger to use.’
Luned’s lips dried. She was a step closer to identifying the driver who was following Gloria Patton. The hours in front of the computer monitor might well be worth it.
‘Do you have his full name?’
‘Of course. Roger Buckland. He is the pastor of my church. I gave him the car to use because his was broken.’
It stunned Luned into silence. She swallowed. ‘Can I check the name again?’
‘Roger Buckland.’
Luned knew there were formalities she needed to complete. ‘We may need to take a formal statement from you.’
‘Is he in any trouble?’
‘It’s all part of a routine enquiry. Thank you for your time.’ She rang off, anxious to avoid any further questions.
Winder arrived back in the Incident Room as she finished the telephone conversation and he raised an eyebrow. ‘Progress?’
She wondered how she might share the discovery with him. Winder held a photograph in his hand and walked over to the board, pinning it alongside the image of Gloria Patton.
‘One of the crime scene investigators gave me the photographs of Noel Sanderson.’
‘Is he the—’
Luned was interrupted by Drake and Sara marching in.
‘The body of Noel Sanderson was found by a cleaner in an office in Conwy this morning.’ Drake tapped the image Winder had just stuck on the board. ‘It looks like the same killer who was responsible for Gloria Patton. I want to know everything about Sanderson.’ Drake turned to Winder. ‘Did you talk to the cleaning company?’
‘Yes, boss. They didn’t have anything of any assistance. It was a one-off job. Paid for by the letting agency.’
Luned pondered how she could tell him about her discovery. He might not even remember he had asked Winder to research the fragment of the number plate. She couldn’t waste any time. ‘I found the details about the red car with the RTF letters.’
Drake stopped in his tracks and turned towards her, nodding for her to continue.
‘It belongs to a fruit and veg distributor company based in Rhyl. I’ve spoken to the owner.’
‘I thought Gareth was…’
Winder flushed as Drake shot him a glance. ‘Go on,’ Drake said to Luned.
‘He lent the car to Roger Buckland.’
Drake raised his voice. ‘Bloody hell!’ He paced back to the board, moving Buckland’s image so that it was directly underneath Gloria Patton. ‘We shall have to talk to Buckland again, very soon. Gareth—’ Drake glared at the junior officer. ‘Get hold of any CCTV in Conwy. Today. And get the house-to-house organised.’
Luned looked down at her screen realising she still hadn’t read the results of the search for the vehicle that followed Gloria Patton. Drake started a conversation with Sara so Luned clicked onto the result.
She peered down at the screen, hardly believing what she read. She clicked back into the CCTV footage to check she had recorded the number plate correctly and then read the name of the registered keeper.
‘Boss, something you should see.’
Her tone cut across Drake’s conversation and he and Sara turned sharply towards her.
‘I’ve discovered a red car that followed Gloria Patton in the week before she was killed.’
‘Who is the registered keeper?’
Luned blinked rapidly as she glanced from Sara to Drake. ‘It was Huw Jackson.’
Chapter 27
Coordinating the work on the crime scene in Conwy should have been Drake’s priority. But the involvement of his half-brother began to dominate his mind. Even so, he spoke to Price, brought him up to date with the details on the Sanderson case, and made certain the house-to-house inquiries in Conwy got started. Luned and Winder were trawling through hours of recordings hoping to establish if Jackson had driven down towards Llanrwst on other occasions.
By late afternoon Drake knew he had to confront Jackson. Until he did so he couldn’t concentrate. After grabbing his suit jacket he left his office and spoke to Sara.
‘I’m going to see him.’
‘Do you think he’s involved in killing Hopkin?’ Drake could hear the incredulity in Sara’s voice.
He paused and glanced at the board.
Sara continued. ‘What could be his motive?’
‘Jealousy,’ Drake said after pondering Sara’s comment. It sounded unconvincing. ‘Geraint Wood thought Jackson was having a relationship with Patton. Maybe…’ But without eyewitness evidence or forensics Drake’s explanation was thin. Too thin even to justify talking to Jackson?
‘Are you sure this isn’t premature?’ Sara said.
She was right of course and Drake valued her contribution; it meant she was growing in confidence. But he had to tackle Jackson and he had to do it alone. Leaving headquarters, the various questions he wanted to ask Huw Jackson swirled around his mind. He broke into a jog as he made for his Mondeo. Sitting inside he let the smell of the recently used dashboard cleaning wipes tingle his nostrils. It had become one of his latest rituals. It reassured him that the car was clean.
He started the engine before gripping the steering wheel tightly. Only two days previously he had been at a family party in Huw Jackson’s home. Then he had felt welcomed. He tried to picture what his father might say, realising that Huw Jackson was caught up in a murder investigation. You have to do the right thing, his father would say. Now he regretted not having spoken with his mother; at least he could have told her he had met Jackson’s family. This latest development muddied everything.
He shook off his malaise and drove out of the car
park. He rehearsed the questions to ask Jackson but they all came back to one – are you involved? Part of him didn’t want to hear the answer. He made his way through the light evening traffic in Colwyn Bay and the sedate detached properties of Rhos on Sea towards Llandudno.
He parked a little distance away from Jackson’s property and gazed over. There was a silver car in the drive and Drake wondered if it was pure coincidence that Gloria Patton was in front of Huw’s car as it was driven down the Conwy Valley.
A woman in her fifties left the house next door to Jackson, a spaniel on a lead barking at her feet. She appeared vaguely familiar, probably a guest at the party, Drake thought. She ignored him and once she walked past the car he paced up to Jackson’s front door. He rang the bell and waited. A second attempt to raise a response failed.
He peered into the sitting room. The sound of beating drums seeped through the glass. Drake knew Jackson shared his taste in music but he couldn’t make out the band.
At the side of the property a gate led to the rear. Drake unlatched it and walked through. He remembered the well-kept garden from his previous visit. Then he saw Jackson seated in the conservatory, his head bobbing in time with the music. Jackson took a long drag from what looked like a cigarette and tilted his head back.
Drake walked over to the window and rapped his knuckles on the glass. Jackson jumped up wafting his hand in the air frantically. He pointed the remote control at the stereo system and ‘London Calling’ by The Clash abruptly stopped. Jackson jerked a hand towards the rear door and seconds later met Drake.
‘I wasn’t expecting anyone,’ Jackson said.
When Drake smelt the plumes of cannabis surrounding Jackson it explained his initial reaction.
‘It’s personal use only.’
Drake raised an eyebrow, said nothing.
‘Ever since Jean died, things have been difficult. I couldn’t cope.’
Both men were standing on the threshold. ‘Can I come in?’ Drake said.
‘Of course, I’m sorry.’
Jackson stood to one side and gestured for Drake to enter. In the conservatory, Jackson opened a window, and put the remains of the spliff in a glass ashtray.
Jackson slumped into one of the chairs covered in pink floral material. ‘Jean loved this room. It was her favourite place.’
‘It’s very comfortable.’
‘Do you want something to drink?’
Drake shook his head. ‘I need to ask you about Gloria Patton.’ Drake noticed Jackson’s eye contact drift away. ‘Were you having a relationship with her?’
Jackson reached over for the bottle of beer. He took a long gulp and nodded slowly at Drake. ‘She got under my skin.’
‘When did it start?’
‘A while ago.’
‘Was Jean still alive?’
Jackson rubbed the back of his neck. ‘I never meant to hurt her.’
‘Did Jean find out?’
‘I don’t think so.’
Drake should have been angry, knowing his brother had been capable of cheating on his wife but he wasn’t going to judge a man he barely knew.
‘Are you the owner of a red Ford Fiesta?’
Jackson tilted his head at Drake. ‘I think you know the answer to that.’
Drake recited the registration number and Jackson nodded. ‘It’s in the garage.’
‘The car was seen in Glan Conwy following Gloria Patton. We believe she was on her way to see Rhisiart Hopkin. Why were you following her?’
‘I couldn’t stop myself. We argued. She told me our relationship was over. She could be a callous bitch. Marjorie from the festival committee thought Gloria was having an affair with Rhisiart Hopkin. I couldn’t believe it. He was a smarmy bastard. Saying all the right things, agreeing with those middle-aged women. They all fawned over him because he was rich and single.’
‘But why did you follow her?’
‘I wanted to be certain. I had to know for myself.’
‘Tell me what happened.’
‘She went to his place. She stayed for hours.’ Jackson curled a lip, recoiling at the memory. ‘I even saw him draw the curtains in one of the bedrooms.’
‘What did you do?’
‘I sat outside.’
‘Why did you wait?’
Jackson shrugged.
‘How long did you wait?’
‘A couple of hours.’
‘Did you ever follow Gloria again?’
Jackson gazed at the floor. ‘A couple of times. She noticed me and then she stopped and called me on my mobile, telling me that if I followed her again she would call the police.’ Jackson finished the last of his beer.
‘Why the hell didn’t you tell us about this before?’
Jackson stared at Drake blankly. ‘Things haven’t been easy.’
‘For Christ’s sake, this is a triple murder investigation.’
Jackson reached for an unopened bottle of beer on the table. It fizzed as the opener sprang the cap. Drake imagined once he’d left that Jackson would be drinking a few more and finding another spliff. Drake stood up. ‘I’ll get one of the other constables to take a formal statement from you.’
Jackson looked pale and rather sad as Drake made for the back door. He reached for the handle as his mobile rang. It was Winder. ‘Get back here pronto, boss. The internet has gone mental.’
Chapter 28
Drake pushed open the door to the Incident Room and strode over towards Winder’s desk. Sara gazed up at him. He could see the worry in the creases on her forehead and in her tight lips. Winder kept staring at the screen, clicking his mouse. Luned stood looking over Winder’s shoulder, twisting a lock of hair around two fingers.
‘You need to see this, boss,’ Winder said.
Drake stood behind him.
‘This crazy bastard has posted another video on YouTube. This time it’s a completely new page. He’s called it – The Impossible Life.’
‘Show me.’
‘And there are dozens of tweets.’
Luned sounded serious. ‘It’s a play on the title of the artwork Damien Hirst constructed.’
Drake nodded.
Luned continued. ‘I did some research on the original installation. It was supposed to remind us that in life we are always close to death.’
Winder finished clicking and glanced up at Drake. ‘Here it is, boss.’
A white-suited individual filled the screen. Drake peered in ever-increasing disgust as the man paraded in front of the camera like some demented clown showing the various props he was about to use. His facemask looked like the image of a joker from one of the Batman movies.
Drake heard the door crash open. ‘Where the hell have you been, Ian?’
He turned to face Susan Howells from the public relations department. ‘I’ve been trying to contact you for hours.’
‘I’ve been busy,’ Drake snarled. ‘I need to watch this video.’
He turned his attention back to the monitor, sensing Howells standing behind him. He guessed she had already seen it.
This madman must think this is entertaining, Drake thought. For the next ten minutes, they stared at him constructing the murder scene. But the footage kept cutting to cinematic shots of the North Wales countryside including images of Conwy Castle, the Menai Strait and the promenade in Llandudno.
‘What the hell is happening?’ Drake said when the film cut to an image of the promenade at Llandudno.
‘There are lots like this, boss,’ Winder said.
He must have been filming as he walked along Llandudno prom, Drake thought. Somebody would have noticed. Then the sheer impossibility of identifying an individual using a video camera on the promenade in Llandudno struck Drake with depressing clarity.
After a couple of minutes the image cut back to the inside of the office. By now, the body of Noel Sanderson was erect. Three sides of the Perspex box surrounded him. The killer sat watching the Jaws film. He made an exaggerated laughing gesture at the s
cene where a swimmer was eaten.
Then the coverage switched to a video, obviously taken by a drone over Conwy Castle. The camera panned around to show the ancient castle walls surrounding the medieval town before switching to a speedboat travelling up the Menai Strait, underneath both the Menai Bridge and the Britannia Bridge.
‘Don’t you need a licence to use one of these?’
Winder replied. ‘A friend of mine has just bought one. There are no restrictions. Anyone can use them.’
Drake frowned at Winder, scarcely able to believe these drones were unregulated.
At the end of the Menai Strait the drone hovered over the eighteenth-century Fort Belan before moving over to Aber Menai point. Drake could see the power of the tide as it ripped past the sand dunes.
‘It looks like a tourist information video,’ Howells said.
‘How the hell is that supposed to help us?’ Drake said without looking at her.
Just as abruptly, the coverage switched back to the inside of the office. It churned Drake’s stomach to see the plastic shark’s head stuffed over the upper part of Noel Sanderson’s body. For five minutes, they viewed the coverage in complete silence, no one moving in their chairs, those standing remaining utterly still. The killer finished erecting the box surrounding Noel Sanderson and stood back to admire his handiwork. Then he fiddled with the laptop and the Jaws clip restarted.
Then the man stepped towards the camera and bowed.
‘For fuck’s sake,’ Drake said. ‘Switch the damn thing off.’
Nobody said anything. They stood in silence for a few seconds although it felt like much longer. Drake paced over to the board.
‘We need to find this bastard.’
He stared at the faces of Wood and Falk, linking them together, and then Roger Buckland and finally Ellingham.
‘What’s the motive for killing Sanderson?’ Drake said.
Sara gave a pensive look.
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