Ruthless Crimes

by MICHAEL HAMBLING

  Barry was beginning to see where this was going. ‘Right,’ he said, non-committally. He took another sip from his mug and waited.

  ‘I had George earmarked to do his detective training and join us as a DC. It was all so perfect, but it’s all gone to pot now, hasn’t it?’ Sophie scowled melodramatically.

  ‘To be realistic, ma’am, did George know about these plans of yours? And isn’t it an unwritten rule that newly qualified detectives need to learn the ropes in routine CID work before they’re allowed to join a specialist unit like ours?’

  ‘Mere details, Barry. It might have worked on a fair day with a following wind. But it’s all come to nothing now, hasn’t it? How could I ever get away with appointing Jade’s boyfriend to be the new member of this unit? Really, how would it look to the powers that be?’ Another dark scowl.

  Barry frowned. He didn’t feel in a particularly indulgent mood at the moment. It had been a long day, and he was tired and irritable. He and Rae had been up working on this perplexing new case since the crack of dawn, while the boss had been spending a comparatively relaxed day delivering Jade to Oxford and attending a parents’ lunch at her new college. Added to which, she was talking complete claptrap.

  ‘Easily,’ he snapped. ‘If he’s the best person for the job, just do it. Mind you, that assumes he wants the job. And that he’s done the basic training and completed a suitable CID placement. Along with coming through that with really good recommendations and top appraisal ratings. Maybe another year or two? The fact that he’s Jade’s boyfriend is irrelevant. With respect, ma’am, he can’t solve our present problem. We need someone straight away. We could always try borrowing Jimmy again, but Kevin McGreedie won’t be best pleased. He’s got the whole Bournemouth team involved in a complex investigation into a series of violent break-ins. Do we really want to upset him?’

  Sophie shook her head and sighed. ‘No, you’re right, as usual. And, as usual, I’m being too bloody impatient. I’ll get in touch with Sandie Blake up at HQ. She might have someone spare.’ She looked at Barry more carefully. ‘Sorry. I should have been more understanding. You’ve been on the go since early morning, haven’t you?’

  ‘It’s okay. As I said when you first arrived, we’ve hit some kind of barrier. Maybe you can get to the bottom of it. How was your day? Has Jade settled in?’

  Sophie nodded, frowning. ‘You know what my problem is, don’t you? Envy. I can’t admit it to anyone else, Barry. I kept thinking this is me thirty years ago. Starting out on life’s first big adventure. New friends, new experiences, new possibilities, and I was ready for it all. It was like a whirlpool, drawing me in. I had the time of my life. And there she is, at that same point. I’m so proud of her, but there’s a bit of resentment too.’ She sighed. ‘I can’t believe I feel this way. It’s so . . . ridiculous.’

  Barry thought a change in subject matter was needed. ’Do you want a rundown of how far we’ve got? It won’t take long. Because, basically, our victim doesn’t seem to have existed.’

  Sophie looked at him with renewed interest. At last a sparkle was back in her eyes. ‘So, he was in hiding, was he? Sounds fascinating.’

  Chapter 3: Autopsy

  Sunday morning

  Benny Goodall, West Dorset’s senior pathologist, was in his office pouring boiling water into three coffee mugs when Barry and Rae arrived.

  ‘Sorry, it’s instant,’ he said. ‘My coffee machine’s on the blink and it’s all I have. That’s unless you want to try the hospital cafeteria. I wouldn’t recommend it though.’ He pulled a face. ‘Good job it’s you two and not your boss. She might have thrown the stuff at me.’

  Barry smiled but Rae looked puzzled.

  ‘I’ll explain later,’ Barry said to her.

  ‘I always like to have a coffee or tea before starting,’ Benny said, sipping at his mug. ‘The five minutes I spend slurping it down helps to clear my mind. I can’t afford to do a post-mortem if I’m preoccupied with anything. It works better for me if my brain’s a clean slate with nothing else on my mind. What music do you want on?’

  ‘Sorry?’ Barry said. Rae looked bemused.

  ‘Music. I’m experimenting with a new idea. Have calming background music on while doing the examination. It’s meant to help normalise the atmosphere. Apparently, it’s been really successful during surgeries up and down the country. It helps to keep the tension down.’

  ‘Mozart’s Clarinet Concerto,’ Rae suggested. ‘How would that do? Do you have it?’

  ‘Everything’s available. I use an online streaming service. So, whatever takes your fancy. Even Led Zeppelin.’

  Barry frowned. ‘Surely not? Do you mean some doctors have that playing while they’re doing a delicate operation?’

  Benny nodded. ‘“Dazed and Confused.” “Communication Breakdown.” Not sure they’d help me to remain calm and in control. We’ll stick with Mozart.’

  They finished their coffees and walked through to the theatre where the body lay waiting on the bench.

  ‘I’d guess he was in his early forties,’ Benny said. ‘Average height and weight. Hair just starting to turn grey and recede at the temples. No obvious distinguishing marks on his skin. Fairly tanned, but to me it looks more of a weather-beaten tan rather than sunbathing on a beach. I could be wrong though. He’s about five ten in height. We weighed him earlier and he came in at just over eleven stone. He looks fairly fit and healthy on the whole, apart from one thing. His right ankle was strapped. It looked very much as if he’d damaged it sometime and it had never totally healed.’

  ‘Is it possible to say how bad it was and how it happened?’ Barry asked.

  Benny shook his head. ‘Not really. We’re not miracle workers. It was serious enough for him to get treatment and it might have affected his ability to do manual work. The strapping was done professionally.’

  ‘Would he have been able to walk okay?’

  ‘I would have thought so. That’s partly the function of the support strapping. It bears some of the strain. He might have limped slightly. And other activities like running or cycling would have been out for a while. Really it all depends on how long ago he did it. Anyway, that’s all from an external perspective, apart from the stab wound.’ Benny moved closer and shone a light on Bunting’s chest. He probed the wound. ‘Two things. It looks as though it was intended for the heart. The entry point is exactly right. But the blade slid off one of the ribs and it got diverted. It did damage to the blood vessels, so he was losing blood at a fairly rapid rate, but it never reached its intended target.’

  Barry frowned. ‘Do you think he might have been struggling, or moved somehow? Is that what it looks like?’

  Benny shrugged. ‘It’s impossible to be sure, but it could have been something like that. The end result was the same though. There was enough damage to the blood vessels to cause a fatal loss of blood.’

  ‘If he’d got to A and E quickly, could he have been saved?’ Rae asked.

  ‘Very much touch and go. If the right personnel had been in the hospital and got him to surgery quickly, there might have been an outside chance.’

  ‘We think he climbed over a wall at the station to get away from his attackers, then managed to cross the platform and crawl onto a train,’ Rae added.

  Benny shook his head. ‘That would have opened the wound and increased the blood loss.’ He paused. ‘We’ll get measurements for you when I open him up. Penetration depth and angle, along with what vessels were damaged. I’ll get the lot to you late tomorrow. Do I send it to you or your boss?’

  Barry made a face. ‘Me. It’s part of my new role now I’m a DI. I think she’s secretly glad.’

  Benny gave a wry smile. ‘She always left before the gory bit. You can stay if you want. The gowns are over in that cupboard.’

  Barry looked at Rae. ‘Shall we give it a go?’

  She nodded. ‘Why not? I’ll try anything once.’

  An hour later the two detectives were in their car, headi
ng back to the incident room.

  ‘I think that goes right to the top of my things not to do on a Sunday morning list,’ Rae said. ‘Did I really choose to stay of my own free will?’

  Barry, grey-faced, was driving rather more slowly than normal. ‘I think I might follow the boss’s lead in future. How do pathologists do it?’

  Rae shook her head. ‘I don’t know. There was a girl in my class at school who caused a stir in a careers lesson once. She said she’d always wanted to work as an undertaker, embalming dead bodies. You can imagine the reaction. But she was serious. Maybe some people just don’t get affected by it like the rest of us.’ She nodded at the approaching sign for a pub. ‘I could do with a drink.’

  Barry turned into the car park. ‘That’s the most sensible suggestion I’ve heard today.’

  * * *

  Having been off duty since Friday, Sergeant Rose Simons listened to PC George Warrander, her regular sidekick, recount the previous day’s events as they made their way downstairs to the squad-car pool.

  ‘Glad I wasn’t there, Georgie boy. All that blood would have put too much strain on my delicate mental constitution. See, us girls just can’t cope in the way you tough blokes can. The sight of blood brings me out in a rash.’

  ‘Yes, Sarge, I’ve often noticed that. I’ve never mentioned it though, just in case it made you self-conscious.’

  Rose stopped dead and turned to face George. ‘First rule of policing, George. It’s the job of the sergeant to make the jokes. The role of a rookie cop is to listen in an agreeable way and laugh at the appropriate moment. You know that. What’s got into you? Has the enforced absence of the love of your life turned your brain?’

  ‘I’m wondering about putting in for detective training. It’s been on my mind for a while. What do you think? Seriously, I mean.’

  Rose sighed. ‘Tell you what, George. I’ve guessed it was on the cards for a long time. You’re too good to keep doing this kind of rubbish for the rest of your working life. You’ve got a good brain so you should use it. If I had my time again, I’d be with you like a shot, but at forty-five, I guess I’ve reached my peak. I’m not gonna rise above chucking drunks, thugs and assorted lowlifes into the back of vans now.’

  George smiled. ‘You love it really, Sarge, don’t you?’

  Rose gave him a grin. ‘Dead right, Georgie boy. You’ve got me sussed. Which is why you’d make a good ’tec. And I’ll say that to anyone who asks. You can depend on me for a good reference when the time comes. We’ve made a good team, haven’t we? Bugger it, not just a good team — we’ve been a great one.’

  George was speechless.

  ‘But a bottle of gin wouldn’t go amiss if you want a really good appraisal. One of the good ones?’ She winked at her protégé. ‘You’ve booked next weekend off, I see. Let me guess. Off to Oxford?’

  He looked at her warily. ‘Yeees.’

  ‘Go for it, George. She’s perfect for you. People like you and her are nuggets of gold. So rare in this world. Or maybe I’m being a wee bit prejudiced there. We only see the low life in this line of work.’ She stopped at the car and took her usual walk around, examining it closely and finishing with a glance underneath. They climbed in. ‘Apparently the knife used to kill that guy on Saturday still hasn’t turned up, so they’re sending in their top team to double check. That’s us.’ George started the engine. ‘There’s always a bonus to a morning on the streets of Weymouth,’ Rose continued. ‘Ham, egg and chips in that great seafront café. My stomach’s rumbling already.’

  Chapter 4: New Recruit

  Monday morning

  Sophie walked into Sandie Blake’s office at Dorset police headquarters and sat down. Sandie ran the HR department and had always worked wonders matching people with positions.

  ‘It hasn’t been easy, Sophie. To be honest, the whole staffing situation is a shambles. It’s an inevitable result of the budget cuts, I suppose. Anyway, I’ve got someone for you but . . . well, it’s a case of take it or leave it, I’m afraid.’

  ‘Listen, Sandie, you found me Barry and Rae. You’re obviously a magician, so why should I be even remotely worried?’

  Sandie pulled a face. ‘Because the good old days are gone. I can’t work that system anymore. I just don’t have the flexibility. Between you and me, I’m beginning to wonder if my own days here are numbered. Everything to do with placements and gaining experience is much more programmed than it used to be, and the staffing cuts have made it so much harder. I can imagine myself being replaced by a computer system.’

  ‘Well, if you’re serious, why don’t you design it? You could suggest it to the chief, get Home Office funding, team up with a programmer, and Bob’s your uncle. I don’t want to pry, Sandie, but weren’t you talking about looking to retire in a few years? Introduce a system to replace you and then go for redundancy. You’ll get more money that way.’

  Sandie looked at Sophie through narrowed eyes. ‘You’re a hard woman, Sophie Allen. Cruel.’ She laughed drily. ‘If you must know, I’ve got at least ten more years to go. No, I told you that a couple of years ago when I had my cancer scare. I’ve got the all-clear now, so I want to keep working. The last thing I want is to be stuck at home all day with Roger. He’d drive me barmy with his constant neediness. I feel like murder some days.’

  Sophie smiled. ‘Well, if you have to kill him, please do it while you’re on holiday somewhere else. I don’t want to be the SIO on that particular case.’ She paused. ‘So, who do you have in mind for me? You sound a bit worried.’

  ‘Tommy Carter? He’s a young DC in Weymouth CID, as it happens, but he put in for a transfer to a different unit a couple of weeks ago.’

  Sophie frowned. ‘I know him. He was part of Bruce Pitman’s team. We worked with the local Weymouth squad on the Andrea Ford case. I don’t know, Sandie. You know my feelings about the way Bruce worked. Has Tommy been influenced by him?’

  ‘I can offer you a bit of reassurance there. He’d only been with them for a couple of months when that all blew up. I know he can appear to be a bit too easy-going, but he’s all I have. I’m afraid it’s take-it-or-leave-it time.’

  Sophie stood up. ‘Well, in that case, I don’t have much choice, do I? At least he’ll be useful on the current case. It’s Weymouth-based, so his local knowledge should prove useful.’ She paused. ‘You know that my long-term wish is to get George Warrander into the unit, don’t you? Can you do what you need to smooth the path? He’s got just the right mindset for the kind of work we do.’ She turned and left.

  Sandie Blake watched her go. She’d heard the rumours about young George going out with Jade Allen. That could have the makings of a disaster, if he were to work in Sophie’s own unit. Better to avoid any possibility of a future meltdown and put the idea into cold storage.

  * * *

  Despite the number of search personnel out on Weymouth’s streets, no trace of the murder weapon had been found. Every bin and skip was examined, every hedge and bush scrutinised, every litter-filled nook was inspected and every drain cover lifted. All to no avail. Barry, allocated a temporary office in the railway station complex as search HQ, listened to the reports from the returning team leaders in disappointed silence. There were several logical explanations, but one was particularly worrying. Whoever carried out the murder still had need of the knife. And what was the obvious conclusion to draw from that?

  He thanked the station manager for the temporary use of her office and made his way back to the incident room at the local police station. Rae looked up as he entered. She too seemed worried.

  ‘Boss, we need to talk.’

  Barry made himself a coffee and went across to her desk. ‘Nothing good, I take it?’

  ‘Not really,’ she replied. ‘You remember how surprised I was at the lack of information on our victim? Well, I decided to attack it from a different angle. I looked at the house rather than the person in it. It’s owned by the government — the Home Office, I think.’


  Barry stood stock still. ‘What? How did you find that out?’

  ‘Well, the owner is officially recorded as a Corinne Lanston. I checked the property records, and she also owns a house in Poole. So, merely out of curiosity, I went further afield. She’s also got houses in Exeter, Southampton and Portsmouth. All port towns.’

  Barry frowned. ‘Yes. What else?’

  ‘So, I googled the name. And nothing came up. There isn’t anyone with that name listed anywhere in the public domain.’

  ‘Okay, I think I know where you’re heading.’

  Rae gave him a thin smile. ‘Yes, you’d be right. I used some of the systems open to us for security checks. There is a Corinne Lanston. She works for the Home Office in London and all records about her are locked. Only people with high-level security clearance can get further. It seems we’re not even meant to know that she exists. I wonder if I’ve set off any alarms by trying to access information about her. Hope I’m not for the high jump. Is the boss around?’

  Barry nodded. ‘She’s just back from HQ. I’ll get her.’

  Sophie listened to Rae’s account, frowning. ‘I knew this would happen one day. It was inevitable.’

  ‘Do you know about this Corinne, then?’ Barry asked.

  Sophie shook her head. ‘No, not her specifically. Only that we might get tangled up with one of the intelligence agencies at some point. I’m pretty sure that’s what it might be. The place is some kind of safe house. Which begs the question. Who really was Robert Bunting?’

  ‘Can we keep going with the investigation?’ Barry asked.

  ‘Yes, on a routine level. But we can’t follow Rae’s avenue of investigation until I’ve spoken to Special Branch. Well, this is a real turn up for the books. Great work, both of you. Let’s take a break until tomorrow. I’ll get on the blower right now to lodge Rae’s discovery and fix a meeting at HQ. You two need to leave this angle well alone until I tell you otherwise. Understood?’ She looked at her watch. ‘By the way, our new DC should be here any minute. Don’t mention Rae’s discovery to him until we get it sorted. As far as he’s concerned, it’s just a normal murder inquiry.’