An Unfamiliar Murder (24 page)

“You asked to see me?”

“Yes, Helen. Take a seat.” He pointed with an open hand at the chair
opposite his desk.

“Thank you.” She approached the chair and moved it out slightly, placing
it at an angle so that she could see Townsend in her peripheral vision.
Something about the cool atmosphere made her very suspicious. She sat herself
down, taking time to arrange her suit jacket, before resting her hands in her
lap and lifting her head to face the Super, in an attempt to feign confidence.
Her nose twitched at the faint smell of furniture polish that filled the air.

“Helen, Townsend here has just been updating me on your case,” Jenkins
said, nodding briefly in his direction before slowly pressing his hands flat
together and lifting them up so that the point of his fingers touched his chin.

“Good,” she replied with as much confidence as she could muster. She
wasn’t going to give them any help at all.
What
is Townsend up to?

The room went very quiet, as if he were expecting her to say more.
Instead, Helen allowed her eyes to wander to the window. All traces of sunshine
had now disappeared as the day had subsided into a dank, grey fog.

“I understand that you have released Aaron
Gravell
?”
Jenkins continued eventually, lacing his fingers in and out of each other. “Can
you explain your reasoning behind this decision?”

Surely Townsend wasn’t out to undermine her?
He wouldn’t, would he?
She sat upright in her chair, opening up
her diaphragm. “Certainly, sir. He was interviewed and has an alibi, which has
been substantiated. We have no evidence to hold him.” She looked directly at
Townsend who, it seemed, was deliberately avoiding eye contact. Well, she was
not going to make this easy for him.

Jenkins looked across at Townsend. “Inspector Townsend here,” he briefly
inclined his head towards the Inspector, “believes he was released too early.”
He gave a backwards nod. “Perhaps you would enlighten us, Townsend.”

There was the first body blow. Helen could feel her nostrils flare.
How dare he?

 
“Yes, sir,” answered Townsend. “Interviews
with the
Gravell’s
family neighbor in Ripley, and
with Kathleen Cottrell, show that he knew about the set up in the Cottrell
household. He was rejected when he tried to establish a relationship with them.
He had shown a particular interest in Anna and knew that she was adopted. It
wouldn’t have been too difficult to trace her natural father.”

Helen pictured Aaron
Gravell
in her mind. The
family man who was so completely comfortable in his own skin, that he almost appeared
to enjoy being interviewed in connection with a murder case. She couldn’t help
herself. “What about his alibi? Motive?” she cut in.

Townsend finally looked across at her, narrowing his eyes contemptuously.
“His wife is his alibi. She’s lying. It’s obvious,” he sneered.

The Super shifted in his chair.

Townsend raised his voice a decibel
.
“Christ, he’s the best suspect we’ve had so far. We just need a bit more
time - to match up the witness profiles, unravel his motive.”

Helen turned to face the Super. “Sir, I can see no reason why I should
pay my detectives overtime to work through the night to find a case when there
is absolutely no evidence. We are continuing routine enquiries into Aaron
Gravell’s
background as part of the wider investigation,
but I do not see him as a suspect at this time.”

“That’s because
you
didn’t find
him,” Townsend actually hissed these words through clenched teeth.

Helen could feel the heat of the blood, rushing through her brain cells.
How dare he?
She fought to keep herself
calm. “On the contrary, Inspector, it was excellent police work – your
discovering the
Gravell
family background.” Dueling
for a fight, her compliment clearly startled him. Helen ignored him and
ploughed on, “But we actually have a clearer suspect in our sights that matches
both our witness profiles.”

 
She was aware of Townsend’s head
jolting, his face clouding over, but it was Jenkins who spoke first, “Why
wasn’t I informed of this?”

“It’s only just been confirmed. This morning
Rab
McCafferty
identified the CCTV still of the man who
was seen with Jim
McCafferty
on the day of his
murder. The still shares the same characteristics as the man seen with Ross on
the night of his disappearance.” She paused for a moment, glancing sideways to
watch the color drain from Townsend’s face. Strangely, it didn’t give her any
pleasure.

“His name is Kane Edwards. He was a prison guard at
Lardell
,
one of the prisons where
Rab
was detained.
Rab
describes him as a nasty piece of work, a bit of a
social inadequate who supplied the prison heavies with drugs and
sim
cards for their illegal mobile phones. In return, they
made his life comfortable through their contacts on the outside – cash, women
on tap, that sort of thing. Basically he was on their payroll.” She couldn’t
hide the excitement in her voice. “
Rab
and he never
got on. Three months ago he was shopped and suspended - just at the time when
Rab
was moved to an open prison.
Rab
wasn’t involved but his cellmate gave a statement incriminating Edwards.” She
paused for a moment. “Apparently Kane vowed to revenge the person who shopped
him. Due to their mutual dislike
Rab
believes that he
blames him, instead of his cellmate, and this is his revenge.”

The Super raised his eyebrows.
“
Why
his sister? Why not go after him?” he asked.

“Maybe that would have been too obvious. But he knew about
Rab’s
desire to meet up with Anna after his release. He had
access to his cell in prison to obtain personal details, addresses and the
like, and clearly has a motive to upset
Rab’s
family.”

 
“Have we located him?”

“My team are tracing him as we speak.”

The ring of his phone interrupted them briefly. The call lasted less than
a minute. Finally, Jenkins nodded several times, finishing up with a, “Certainly.”
He replaced the receiver, looked at his watch and stood. He looked over at
Townsend, who glanced away, then turned to Helen. “Well, that seems to have
resolved the issue. This seems to be a case of misunderstanding. I’ll leave you
two to sort it out. I’ve been called up to see the Chief, so I’ll brief him on
the latest developments whilst I’m there. Let me know as soon as you find this
Edwards.” Helen pressed her lips together and nodded. He stopped and turned as
he reached the door. “What about this
Rab
McCafferty
?” he asked. “Have we put anyone with him?”

“An undercover, I’ll make sure we watch him 24 hours.”

“Right, well, ring the moment you have something. And don’t forget,
Sawford is joining you today, perhaps he can assist with the search?” And with
that he left the room with the haste of a man consumed by ambition. She didn’t
miss Townsend widen his eyes at this remark.
Just like a scorpion,
Helen thought to herself,
the sting is always in the tail
.

The room went very quiet. She turned slowly to face Townsend who appeared
to have lost his composure, his head hung like a naughty schoolboy. When she
finally spoke she kept her voice calm and even. “In future, if you have any
concerns about the investigation, I’d be grateful if you would come to me
instead of trying to take my legs.”

Those final words got his attention. ‘Taking legs’ was a phrase used in
the force when another police officer went behind a colleague’s back, seeking
to undermine them. He shot her an icy glare. “Not a very nice feeling is it?”

She felt her teeth clench, but maintained her steely reserve.
“What?”

“You’ve sidelined me ever since we began this investigation.”

She could feel her anger rising. “Simon, it was you who was smoking in
the car park, missing important details through first briefing, you who went
off and carried out your own covert

investigation
. . .”

“You didn’t even want to speak to me on the phone that first evening,” he
interrupted.

Helen took a deep breath and rolled her eyes. This was like dealing with
a child. “It doesn’t take an Inspector to secure a crime scene. Your skills
were far more valuable to me in setting up an incident room, arranging for
resources, so that we could get started at the earliest opportunity . . .”

Townsend screwed up his own face. “You think you are so high and mighty,
don’t you? Better than the rest of us . . .” His voice was acidic.

“I beg your pardon?” she asked.

 
“Can’t bear anyone else taking the
glory, can you? You felt threatened by me right from the beginning, by my experience,
so you cut me out.”

She fought hard to keep her reserve. “Frankly, Simon, this inquiry has
been dogged by your lack of support and negativity throughout. You’re supposed
to be my Deputy.”

“There you go again.
‘Supposed’
.
You think you can come here with your flashy degree, take some exams and step
straight into your father’s shoes.”

The mention of her father caught her slightly. It was a low ball. “Let’s
remember who is in charge here, Simon. I give the orders. You obey them. If
you’re not able to do that, then you’re in the wrong job.”

 
“My record speaks for itself. Good police
work. That’s what counts. I got a result in the West Country.”

His sheer arrogance flabbergasted Helen. “What counts is obeying orders.
Have I not made myself clear enough? God, Simon, I shouldn’t need to explain
force discipline to an officer of your service, or rank for that matter.”

Townsend’s face turned to stone as he ignored her comments and continued,
“It was obvious from the first time I spoke to you on this case. I could hear
the contempt in your voice. The same contempt as when I left Hampton. You people, you don’t care whose
toes you tread on, how many careers you ruin, to get to the top.”

The truth was that Helen had no idea why Townsend had left the Area all
those years ago. Of course, his sudden departure had fuelled all sorts of
rumors. The most popular assumption was that the bosses had engineered the move
due to his laziness, he wasn’t nicknamed ‘cuff’ for his diligence in
investigating jobs that was for sure. Then there was the incident with WPC
Bland . . .

But she had had quite enough. She leant forward, spoke loudly. “Simon, I
honestly had no idea why you left the Area eight years ago, but I can assure
you it had nothing to do with me.”

“Yeah, right . . .”

“That is right!” The decibels in her voice rose with each syllable. He
shook his head as she continued, “I suggest that you check out your facts
before you go around accusing people in future!”

She took a deep, seething breath through her teeth, let it out slowly. “I
refuse to continue with this conversation, other than to repeat that you are
seriously mistaken about your accusations.” She made to go, but turned as she
faced the door, “I’m going back to the incident room. You have two choices –
either put this behind you, come down and do your job properly, or leave.
Because if you give me any reason, any reason at all, to think that you are not
following orders in future I’ll throw the book at you. How
dare
you undermine me, go behind my back and question my abilities!”
With that she turned on her heels.

Helen marched
down the stairs angrily. Had he really harbored this misconceived grudge
against her for all these years? More likely, it was a mixture of jealousy and
guilt. The question was, how did an officer with his track record and inability
to work in a team, manage to make Acting Inspector?

Chapter Twenty

“He’s done a
runner.”

Helen stared at a frustrated Pemberton and then looked around the room at
her weary team. During her absence in the Super’s office they had all been on
phones, searching computers, speaking to neighboring forces, in an attempt to
locate their suspect. “What do you mean?” Helen asked. “Somebody must know
where he is?”

“We’ve checked with
Lardell
force and the
prison,” Pemberton said. “Edwards was arrested for possession with intent to
supply cannabis at
Lardell
prison, but they only
caught him with 1 oz altogether, so he was released on bail pending enquiries.
That’s when he did a moonlight flit. They didn’t realize until he failed to
answer his bail four weeks ago.”

“What about his car, bank accounts, credit cards? He must have used his
phone?”

 
“It seems he planned out his
escape very carefully. He withdrew the last £800 from his bank account two days
before he was due to appear. There has been no activity on his mobile. We can’t
trace his car – good chance he’s trashed it if he’s planned this - and there
has been no activity on his credit card, although he has left rather a large
debt outstanding. It seems our Mr. Edwards was intent on not going to prison.”
This wasn’t surprising. Nobody liked a bent prison guard, not police, other
guards or prisoners, no matter how many of the latter owed him favors.

 
“So what is he doing for money?
Somebody must be looking after him?”

“Best case scenario is that the group he was working for in the prison
have taken him under their wing, put him up in some shithole and he’ll be
selling drugs for them. Probably even lent him a car, too. That way he can just
work in cash which is untraceable.”

“What have
Lardell
done to try to find him?”

Pemberton shrugged. “He’s not high priority for them. Just a ‘fail to
answer bail’. With resources pushed as they are, he’ll be another open case
file for an overloaded Area detective.”

Helen sighed loudly. “Well he’s high priority to us. Look, we know he was
in Hampton last
week. The chances are that he is still in the locality. Get our own detectives
to check their contacts in the field. Someone must either know him or know of
him. Try the drugs team too. If your theory is right then a new face on the
block would not go unnoticed.”

Heads nodded as Helen continued, “Make sure that we circulate the stills
throughout our force, particularly to the instant response team. We need all
our people to keep their ears and eyes open. And circulate them to neighboring
forces, too. Oh, and get me Jack Coulson on the phone please?” she barked at
Pemberton. “We’ll see if we can get his image onto the front page of the
tomorrow’s Hampton Herald.”

*
* *

It was almost
four when Helen heard somebody holler, “Afternoon!”

She looked up from her desk to see a short, wiry man standing at the
entrance to the incident room. Her team looked back at him, a few nodded,
others just stared. It wasn’t surprising really, as she hadn’t shared the new
arrangement with them yet. She had needed them focused on finding their
suspect.

George Sawford strode purposefully through the incident room and entered
her office without knocking.

“Afternoon, Helen,” he said.

“George.” She shook his proffered hand.

He was no taller the 5 ft 2 inches, with fox like features and a clump of
light, brown hair on his head which permanently stuck up around the crown area.
George had joined
Hamptonshire
force in the early
1990s (when they had dropped the height restrictions). Rising quickly through
the ranks, he was known for his ambitious nature and attention to detail. For
the last 9 years he had served as a Senior Investigating Officer, managing
murder investigations, cold case review and sitting on review panels. But he
was also well known for the cunning chip on his shoulder. He was driven to find
something, to get a result at whatever cost. It was almost as if he had
something to prove to the world.

 
“Sorry I’m late, but you know what
Judge
Tallins
is like.”

She nodded back at him and watched as he sat himself down opposite her.

 
“Would you like me to give you a
brief overview of the case?” she asked.

His rubbed his chin briefly, eyes searching across her desk. “Err.. No,
thank you. I think I’ll start with your policy log and we’ll see where we go
from there.”

Helen could feel her hackles rising. He wasn’t going to make this easy.
Although outwardly he appeared calm and collected, inwardly she could see that
he couldn’t wait to get his teeth stuck in. It was no secret that he played
golf with the Super, the Chief Constable, and many other influential people in
Hamptonshire
including the Mayor. And he was craftily
astute, seeking out big, high profile cases that caught the public eye.
Celebrity Cop.
There could be no doubt
that, with Central Government wanting to introduce the election of Police
Commissioners, this was his ultimate aim. And he didn’t care who got in his
way. He was gunning for her blood. Well, she wasn’t going to bring herself down
to his level.

“As you wish,” she said, lifting it from her desk and passing it across
to him.

“Thank you,” he replied, placing it on the edge of the desk before
leaning down to unpack his briefcase.

Oh no you don’t.
“I’ve arranged
for you to have your own office down the corridor,” she said. “You won’t be
disturbed there.”

“
Ahh
.” She watched him suppress surprise. He
was also an excellent actor.

You didn’t think I was going to let
you loose in here?
“Why don’t you follow me and we’ll get you settled?”

“Of course.” He shoved a notebook back into his briefcase, picked up her
policy log and followed her out of her office, back through the incident room
and along the corridor.

Helen opened the door to the old, windowless store cupboard and switched
on the light. It had been used on a number of occasions as an overflow office
when they were particularly busy in the incident room, or they had a review
team in. It felt cold today and very bare. Apart from a few lonely boxes stored
in the corner, it housed a desk and a couple of chairs, one either side. There
wasn’t much room for anything else.

“There you go,” Helen said, opening her arm to escort him in, as if he
were getting the Super’s office.

“Right.” If he was cross or felt marginalized, he was careful not to show
it. But Helen had seen him in practice before, and underneath the blank
expression, there was a knowing acknowledgement. The parameters had been set.

“I should know what your current priorities are?” he asked, turning to
face her.

“We are looking into a potential suspect,” Helen replied, deliberately
playing it down. “It’s all in the log. Give me a shout if you need
clarification on anything.”

“Will do, thank you.”

As she nodded and turned to go, a thought suddenly gripped her. “Coffee,
George?”

“That would be great,” he replied, and this time there was an air of
surprise to his voice.

“The machine is just next door. Do help yourself.” And with that she
marched back down the corridor.

*
* *

“What is he
doing here?” Dark whispered loudly, jerking her head in the direction of the
corridor as they begun the afternoon round up. George Sawford’s presence in the
former store cupboard had not gone unnoticed.

“The Super feels that we might benefit from some expertise on the
investigation,” Helen replied, keeping her face completely expressionless.

“More like putting us on trial.” Helen was surprised by Pemberton’s
remark. He was usually always one to toe the line. General mumblings spread
around the room.

“Whatever we think,” Helen continued, as the noises gradually hushed, “we
are stuck with him. So, let’s make the best of it.”

“Is he joining us for briefing?” Helen was surprised to see Townsend at
the back, speaking up for a change.

“He’s just appraising himself with the investigation so far. I’m sure
he’ll join us when he’s ready. Now what do we have?”

“He’s a hemophiliac.” Helen stared at DC Spencer, along with the rest of
her team. He had traveled over an hour, earlier that day, to interview Mrs.
Edwards and was feeding his findings back to the team.

“His mother says it has blighted his life. He hated being different from
the other kids, having to avoid confrontation, in case it went too far. Didn’t
have many friends, she puts it down to him moving schools twice due to
bullying. He always wanted to join the Army, but failed the medical.” He paused
to look down at his notes. “He was an only child, she brought him up by herself
and wouldn’t be drawn on his father – said they haven’t seen him for years. She
still calls him by his real name, Kevin, although these days he prefers to be
known as ‘Kane’. Apparently, he re-named himself after the fictional Kung Fu
character.”

“Wasn’t that spelt C-a-i-n-e?” Pemberton interjected. Everybody laughed. “It
was one of my favorite shows as kid,” he admitted.

“Well he wasn’t the brightest button at school by all accounts. Anyway,
he discovered bodybuilding when he reached his late teens and his mother
reckoned he almost doubled in size. Did a variety of jobs before he joined the
prison service: car valet; taxi driver; worked in the Army surplus store,
Bouncer.”

“Bouncer!” exclaimed Dark, “Great job for a hemophiliac!” Everyone
laughed.

“She seemed proud of him, keen to talk,” Spencer continued, “really
pleased that he had joined the prison service. Last saw him two months ago and
he seemed happy. He phoned her last Sunday, was talking about settling down,
said he had met someone. Was going to bring her over to meet her. She was
ecstatic about this. It’s the first time he’s ever mentioned a girlfriend.
Apparently, he’s very private about that part of his life. Needless to say, she
doesn’t appear to know anything about the suspension or the drugs charge.”

“Why did she think you were asking about him?” Helen asked.

“I just said there had been an incident in the prison and we were
investigating. I didn’t mention it had anything to do with him.”

“Good work. We don’t want her warning him that we’re getting close.”

“Oh, she wasn’t surprised. She said he had alerted her that the police
may get in contact. He fed her some dross about working under cover in the
prison on a confidential case.”

“She’ll get a shock when this comes out,” Dark said, shaking her head.

 
“Right,” Helen interjected, keen
to move on. “Thanks Steve. Anything from Intelligence?”

Pemberton shook his head. “We’ve circulated his image. Spoken to Area
CID, Drugs Squad. Nothing at the moment. But they’re on the look out.”

Helen sighed. “OK. What else have we got?”

Dark raised her hand. “I spoke to the Prison Governor at
Lardell
.”

“And?”

“Governor
Wheelen
remembered Edwards well.
Apparently, his personal file makes for very interesting reading.”

“Good,” Helen said. “Details?”

Dark stood up. “His first post was A Wing,” she said, consulting her
notes. “Initially, they were very pleased with his progress. He seemed to build
a rapport with the prisoners, easily diffuse situations, that sort of thing.
But then a number of incidents gave rise to rumors that his relationship with
some prisoners,” she hesitated, looking for the right words, “lacked a certain
professionalism, should we say?”

 
“Like?”

“The other guard that partnered him on A wing expressed concern that Kane
was becoming lax in enforcing prison policy, extending privileges for some
inmates like association time out of the cell, letting them spend time in the
library on their own, that sort of thing.” She extended her arm in an animated
fashion.

“Then one day he walked into a cell, surprised to see Kane deep in
conversation with a prisoner. They stopped talking as soon as they saw him, but
he overheard part of the conversation which was enough to make him suspect that
Kane might be passing messages, on behalf of the prisoner, to associates on the
outside.” She paused for a moment, as she turned the page, “The problem was
that they lacked evidence. He only overheard a few odd words. So, after six
months, the Governor decided to move Kane to another wing under the pretence of
a developmental move.”

Helen nodded. “What happened then?”

Dark ran her eyes back over her notes. “He moved to D Wing, where
Rab
was held, and he was a model officer for a while. It
was several months before the other guard on D wing put in reports of Kane
showing over-familiarity with certain prominent prisoners, one in particular
from an organized crime background, a leading figure in drugs supply.

“Someone who would be still running their operation from the inside, and
looking to manipulate anyone who could make that happen,” Helen said. The role
of a prison officer is notoriously low paid, a fact that did not escape inmates
who were always on the look out for those who may be prone to corruption. “So,
do we have a name?”

Dark nodded. “Carl Peacock was the key figure, based in Birmingham, doing twelve years for conspiracy
to supply cocaine.”

“I remember that one breaking,” Pemberton interjected. “It was a huge
haul at the time and a lengthy trial if my memory serves me right. He was a
tricky customer with links all over the country.”