Ruthless Crimes
Page 1
RUTHLESS CRIMES
A totally captivating crime mystery
MICHAEL HAMBLING
Detective Sophie Allen Book 9
First published 2020
Joffe Books, London
www.joffebooks.com
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, organisations, places and events are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental. The spelling used is British English except where fidelity to the author’s rendering of accent or dialect supersedes this. The right of Michael Hambling to be identified as the author of the work has been asserted in accordance with the UK Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.
© Michael Hambling
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ISBN 978-1-78931-488-5
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A young woman’s body is discovered on a deserted footpath in a Dorset seaside town late on a cold November night. She has been stabbed through the heart.
It seems like a simple crime for DCI Sophie Allen and her team to solve. But not when the victim’s mother is found strangled the next morning. The case grows more complex as DCI Sophie Allen discovers that the victims had secret histories, involving violence and intimidation. There’s an obvious suspect but Detective Allen isn't convinced. Could someone else be lurking in the shadows, someone savagely violent, looking for a warped revenge?
CONTENTS
Foreword
Character List
Prologue
Chapter 1: Crime Scene
Chapter 2: Bicycle
Chapter 3: Autopsy
Chapter 4: New Recruit
Chapter 5: Recollections
Chapter 6: Selfies
Chapter 7: Knife
Chapter 8: Right Up Their Street
Chapter 9: No Need to Get Bullish
Chapter 10: Complete Slug
Chapter 11: Under the Radar
Chapter 12: Ritchie
Chapter 13: Oxford
Chapter 14: The Boat
Chapter 15: Hospital
Chapter 16: Ambitious Politicians
Chapter 17: The Way West
Chapter 18: Tears
Chapter 19: Celebration
Chapter 20: Abduction
Chapter 21: Walkers
Chapter 22: Cherbourg
Chapter 23: Puzzles
Chapter 24: Coffee, Beer and Secrets
Chapter 25: Camouflage
Chapter 26: Heavily Tinted Windows
Chapter 27: Rent
Chapter 28: Pale and Frightened
Chapter 29: Worried Politicians
Chapter 30: Hospital Discharge
Chapter 31: Debrief
Chapter 32: Food — and then Drink
Chapter 33: The Cottage
Chapter 34: Occasion to Swear
Chapter 35: Nowhere to Hide
Chapter 36: Beyond Our Ken
Chapter 37: Charmaine
Chapter 38: Past Portland
Chapter 39: Outward Bound
Chapter 40: Café and Pub Crawl
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RUTHLESS CRIMES GLOSSARY
Foreword
This is a work of fiction, and none of the characters and situations described bear any resemblance to real persons or events. Many of the locations, however, do exist and provide some first-rate walking breaks. Dorset’s Golden Cap estate, situated between Lyme Regis and Bridport, is owned by the National Trust and forms the centre point of an extensive network of footpaths and tracks.
A glossary appears at the end of this book.
Character List
Dorset Police Violent Crime Unit (VCU):
Detective Superintendent Sophie Allen
Detective Inspector Barry Marsh
Detective Sergeant Rae Gregson
Detective Constable Tommy Carter
At Dorset Police Headquarters:
Chief Superintendent Matt Silver
Assistant Chief Constable Jim Metcalfe
Inspector Karen Brody (Special Branch; security)
Dorset Police Uniformed Officers:
Sergeant Rose Simons
Constable George Warrander
Other Dorset Personnel:
Detective Sergeant Stu Blackman (Weymouth CID)
Dave Nash (County Forensic Chief)
Hampshire Police CID:
Detective Chief Inspector Jack Dunning
Detective Sergeant Gwen Davies
Metropolitan Police Officers, based at New Scotland Yard:
Assistant Commissioner Paul Baker
Detective Chief Inspector Steve Lamb
Home Office Politicians:
Ken Burke (Immigration Minister)
Yauvani Anand (PPS to the Minister)
Home Office Special Unit:
Corinne Lanston
Peter Zelinski (Field Operative)
Angus Catchcart (Part-time advisor)
This book is dedicated to all the medics and care staff in this country and across the world who have worked selflessly during this coronavirus pandemic, and in particular those in my own family. My brother, Rob, a GP in Cheshire and his wife, Nicola, a nurse who has come out of retirement in order to track and trace. My niece, Jennifer, a GP in Edinburgh, my nephew, Matthew, a doctor in Livingstone, my nephew, Cameron, a doctor in Croydon. My daughter-in-law’s brother, Tom, a doctor working in Slough Hospital and his wife, Henrietta, a doctor in Oxford. The same daughter-in-law’s father, Tony, a doctor still doing work in X-ray analysis in Hull despite being retired for some years, and her sister, Jo, an asthma nurse in Harrogate. Finally, my nieces, Karen and Alison, both working as medical therapists in Paisley.
I also need to mention my friend Heather. She lived on the Isle of Portland but has recently moved to Weymouth, where she works providing day services for adults with learning disabilities. During the Covid-19 lockdown, she has been caring for elderly dementia patients in their homes. She and her fellow care workers have done a fantastic job during this killer pandemic. This country needs to get its priorities right and lift their earnings from the mediocre minimum wage that many of them receive. I would urge you to remember this next time there’s an election and vote accordingly.
Prologue
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The station tannoy hissed and crackled before it settled into its usual monotone listing of destinations. Jason Lamb stamped his feet and blew on his chilly hands. It was only early October, for God’s sake. Was it usual for frosts to arrive this early in the autumn? He stood back and yawned as the train doors slid open and the guard waved the handful of passengers onto the first morning train from Weymouth to London. Jason couldn’t understand why the doors were only unlocked five minutes before departure. The train had remained stationary all night, having been the last train to arrive the previous evening. And given that it was so cold, why couldn’t the train be ready and waiting, warm and comfortable, for
when the passengers arrived? For a start, it would give him an extra few minutes snoozing on a soft seat. Not that he was travelling very far. He just needed to get to work in Poole, about forty minutes away, by seven o’clock. He was an apprentice boatbuilder, normally based at a yard near his home in Weymouth, but currently in the middle of a two-month-long attachment that took him to a specialist yard in Poole every Saturday, and the early morning start was getting him down. Having to get up at five in the morning was just too much. Even getting this first train barely gave him enough time to get to the quay by his allocated start time, and only if he hurried. It was madness. And it ruined the best night out of the weekend, leaving him feeling so worn-out that he just wanted to curl up and sleep while all his pals were out enjoying themselves. Thank God the placement would be over in a couple of weeks and he’d be back at the Weymouth yard full time and on ‘painting duties.’ He smiled to himself as he remembered where that odd phrase had come from. He’d spent a week on a lovely oceangoing yacht, painting its slightly tired, grubby white hull and superstructure a sleek, shiny, navy blue. And tracing out its name, Lady Charmaine, in a tastefully soft cream colour.
He made his way to his usual seat at the very back of the train. Not that he ever had any competition for a seat, not at this god-awful time in the morning. He was often the only person in the carriage. But he’d always opted for a front or rear seat, ever since his grandparents had taken him on train trips as a young boy. Habits died hard with Jason.
He reached the first set of seats and stopped dead. His hand slid to his mouth. There was a body on the floor in front of him, curled into a ball, up against the seats. A large ominous stain had spread across the floor, dark and viscous. Jason turned and ran for the door, yelling for help. He stood outside on the platform, shaking and gasping, causing the few travellers in the other carriages to poke their heads out of the open doors.
Chapter 1: Crime Scene
Saturday morning
Detective Constable Rae Gregson steered her car into the second available parking slot, leaving the most convenient one free for her boss. She’d only had a short twenty-minute drive from Wool to Weymouth, whereas he’d the much longer journey west from Ringwood. He wouldn’t be a happy bunny. She clambered out, flashed her card at the uniformed officer standing nearby and suggested he ensured the better slot was kept free for the DI. She made her way through the packed crowds milling around the station concourse and onto the near-silent platform. She spotted the bulky form of DS Stu Blackman already there.
She never knew quite what to make of Stu. He’d recently been transferred to Weymouth CID from Dorchester following the shake-up of the unit in the resort town. Maybe it was all part of his rehabilitation programme. Several years earlier he’d come close to being disciplined for laziness and incompetence but now appeared to be a reformed character. Rae wasn’t convinced. He had a way of looking at her that made her flesh crawl. Was she imagining it? She’d never mentioned it to anyone on high because it might look vindictive. Anyway, she was a member of the county’s specialist Violent Crime Unit and that carried kudos. Even though Stu was more senior, he would know the limits of his influence. In practice, she had more. Even so, she always ensured that she referred to him as sir at the start of any encounter. Only once, mind. Then she’d do her best to remind him of her position in the elite unit, just to rub it in.
She wouldn’t be his junior for very much longer, though. She’d learned just a few days earlier that she’d passed her sergeants’ exam with flying colours. She was due to celebrate her success later in the month — a meal out with her boss, Barry Marsh, and both their partners. Her biggest concern in recent months had been her place in the VCU following Barry’s promotion to detective inspector rank. This had left a gap in the unit structure and she’d worried that someone would suddenly appear, slotted neatly into the sergeant role, and her own position would be diminished or put at risk. But both Barry and Superintendent Sophie Allen, the latter still nominally the head of the VCU, had reassured her that her future was secure. Not that she’d seen very much of the ‘big boss,’ as she referred to Sophie Allen, in recent weeks. She and Barry had dealt successfully with all the recent cases. Most of them had been straightforward assaults and related crimes, open and shut cases, really. That had to end sometime soon, though. Was this to be the case that brought Sophie back on board in a big way? The initial report certainly gave Rae that feeling.
She dodged under the ribbon of crime-scene tape and reached the cluster of uniformed officers at the front of the train. She nodded to Blackman.
‘Morning, sir. Any details for me?’
‘Dead body in a pool of blood, right at the back of the carriage. Looks like a stab wound to the chest. Forensics should be arriving any minute. The young bloke who stumbled on it is in the station manager’s office, having a coffee. Name of Jason Lamb. The only other person to go in was PC Warrander here. He was first on the scene and checked for signs of life.’
Rae turned to the youngest member of the uniformed group. ‘Hi, George. I take it there weren’t any? Signs of life, I mean.’
Warrander shook his head. ‘Looked like the victim had been dead for hours. Male, maybe mid-thirties. Lying on the floor, tucked in front of the last row of seats. You can’t see the body through the window or from the aisle. But it looks just the position someone would be in if they curled up to avoid being seen. From the amount of blood my guess is that he’s been stabbed. There are stains trailing down from the carriage door and out here on the platform. It looks as though he was bleeding before he got on.’
She was puzzled. ‘How could that happen? I mean, if he’s been there all night?’
‘This was the last train to arrive last night. All the passengers would have got off, but the doors might have been left open for a few minutes while the guard or whoever checked that all the carriages were empty. If they started with that carriage, which is logical because the guard’s booth is there, the victim could have crawled on during the few minutes it took for the guard to check further on before closing the doors. Jason Lamb, the man who found him, was one of the first to arrive on the platform this morning. As soon as the train was unlocked and the doors opened, he went inside. It checks out with what two other witnesses who arrived at the same time have said.’
‘Are they still around?’ Rae said.
George nodded. ‘Yeah. In a separate office.’
Rae smiled at him. ‘Good work, George. That looks like the first forensic unit arriving now, and DI Marsh will be here any minute. The super isn’t around today, I’m not sure where she is. Barry will know.’
George spoke quietly so that Blackman couldn’t overhear. ‘She’s off to Oxford. Jade starts university today, so both her parents are going with her.’
Rae looked at him with raised eyebrows. ‘Does that mean the rumour’s true, then? You’re, umm, “seeing” Jade?’
George looked as though he wished the ground would open and swallow him. ‘Oh, God. Has it leaked out then? We’ve been so careful.’
Rae laughed. ‘Small place, Dorset. No secrets are safe here. Barry spotted the two of you a few weeks ago. But don’t worry, it hasn’t gone any further. And the boss hasn’t said anything herself. She does know, doesn’t she?’
‘Yeah. I’ve been round their house a few times. She seems happy enough with it. But it kinda worries me. You know, going out with the boss’s daughter.’
Rae gave another chuckle. ‘My heart bleeds for you.’
She had a few words with Dave Nash, Dorset’s forensic chief, then walked across the platform to the six-foot fence that separated the station complex from the car park outside, following the trail of dark spots on the hard surface. She looked around to orientate herself with the layout of the station, then went out through the station entrance, in order to approach the same fence from the outside. A railway works van was parked up against the fence. Spots of blood could just be seen on the grubby blue paint. Had the victim cla
mbered onto the top of the van and found a way into the station that way? But why would a badly injured man do that? And how? Had he been trying to get away from someone? Rae wondered if all the climbing had sealed the victim’s fate. Just imagine trying to clamber over a six-foot fence and down the other side with a deep stab wound in your torso. It must have opened the wound up further and worsened the bleeding.
She saw the DI’s car pulling into an empty parking slot, so she walked across to greet him. This already had the look of a puzzling case.
* * *
Jason Lamb, the man who’d discovered the body in the train, was clutching an empty coffee cup and staring into space. He was short and thin, with curly brown hair and sparse stubble on his chin. He wore denims, a blue T-shirt and an unbuttoned grey windcheater jacket. He looked up when the two detectives entered the room. Barry Marsh gestured for the uniformed constable to leave and took the seat opposite Jason.
‘DI Barry Marsh. DC Rae Gregson,’ he said, waving his hand vaguely. ‘Tell me everything that happened. You can start with why you were on this train so early in the morning. Take your time.’
Jason told him of his apprenticeship and his Saturday morning stint at a Poole boatyard, followed by his usual travel arrangements. He finished with the moment that he’d run out onto the platform, gasping in fright.
‘You did well, Jason. I’ve no complaints about how you reacted. And the station staff did everything by the book.’
‘I kept thinking that whoever did it was still on the train. I mean, I saw the guard operate the door lock. All the doors opened so I went in. And I saw the body. How could that happen? It meant that whoever done it was still on the train. Or that’s what I thought. That’s why I got out quick. I still feel a bit faint at the thought of it. He was stabbed, right? That’s what it looked like to me. Then I guessed he’d probably been there all night.’