Death By Dangerous (13 page)

DC Waters parked up outside Taylor's house. He knew better than to knock on the front door. Taylor emerged with a Yorkshire pudding held between his teeth. Struggling against the wind to pull his coat on, he hurried down the path.

Waters leaned across and opened the car door. ‘Sorry, gov.'

Taylor got in, took a bite, then cupped the remaining half, careful not to let the gravy drip onto his clothes. ‘This better be good, Waters. First time the kids have seen me for a week.'

‘It's Martin Tredwell, he's gone AWOL.'

‘Not this again.'

‘Witness protection haven't had any contact for five days. They went round to the Stockport safe house after I called in Anderson's complaint about the zoo. He's gone. Packed a bag.'

‘Bloody marvellous. That's all I need. More time-wasting. He's got nowt to do with the death by dangerous. Not our problem.'

‘I know but they say there's stuff at the house you ought to see.'

Taylor huffed. ‘All right, let's go.'

Waters started the engine and used the back of his hand to make a cursory wipe of the condensation on the windscreen.

Once Taylor had swallowed the last bite: ‘What else do we know?'

‘Very little, gov. Witness protection are concerned that the bloke he grassed on in the trial has caught up with him.'

‘What's his name? Ahmed?'

‘Yeah, Waqar Ahmed. But they've got nothing on him.'

‘What do we know about Tredwell?'

‘Some mental health issues – clever though. NCIS say he likes kids. Sexual violence but never been caught for it. Even though he got a suspended sentence in the Ahmed trial, apparently he took the defendant's acquittal very badly. As always happens, he blamed the lawyers.'

The safe house was in fact a flat on the fifteenth floor of a council block minutes from the centre of Stockport.

‘Surprised he was prepared to be so near home,' said Taylor as they came out of the lift.

‘He insisted apparently.'

A middle-aged man wearing a cheap grey suit answered the door. ‘Hello, gents, thanks for coming. Bob Smith, witness protection. I would shake hands, but…' He raised his arms to show a pair of yellow marigolds. He went into the lounge, tied up a black bin bag, tossed it in the corner, then took off the rubber gloves. ‘Just cleaning up for the next unfortunate.'

‘Already?' said Taylor.

‘Resources, you know the score. A lot of witnesses and very few properties. He broke the rules so someone else gets it. Thought you'd better see this, before I take 'em down.' He opened the bedroom door.

Taylor and Waters stepped inside. Photographs covered every inch of wall space, ceiling included. All of children.

‘We think he printed them off on that,' said Smith, pointing to a PC and printer.

Taylor took a closer look at the walls. Some of the pictures made him wretch. Mutilated bodies, in the throes of an agonising death. ‘Jesus, are these mocked up?'

‘Dunno yet. I bloody hope so.'

Taylor exchanged glances with Waters, conveying a mutual understanding that there was always something new to chill the bones of even the most experienced police officers. Waters picked up a pile of photos by the computer. ‘Did Tredwell take them himself?'

‘Well, we know most of them are just files other nonces trade and share on the net. The paedophile unit had a quick look. They recognised half of them, but not those,' he said, pointing to the bundle in Waters' hand.

Taylor took them and sifted through. Unsuspecting children outside a school, some in a park. ‘Do we know who any of these kids are?'

Smith shook his head. ‘Potential victims? Who knows? With all the level 5's on the wall, he's high priority.'

Taylor nodded.

‘All right,' said Taylor. ‘If the paedophile unit catch up with him, let us know, but he's not actually part of our enquiry.' Forcing himself to take one last look at the walls, Taylor said, ‘Which means my chief would go ape if I spent any time on this.'

‘Understood,' Smith replied. ‘Will do.'

Taylor met Adey Tuur at the front desk. He was taken aback by her beauty. A real stunner. He wasn't fooled by her unconventional appearance. A legally trained defendant was bound to have clever lawyers, even if she did wear jeans and baseball boots to work.

‘You're late,' she said. ‘I've been waiting for nearly an hour.'

Preoccupied with his mobile, Taylor replied, ‘I'm sorry. Something came up.'

Adey scoffed. She noticed his tie had gravy stains and didn't match the shirt. A contented family man who'd long since given up on making an effort, she thought.

Taylor took her back through the secure entrance and down a corridor and left her in a room with a chair and a desk. He returned a few minutes later carrying a cardboard box. ‘All the unused is in here. Put anything you want to one side and I'll photocopy it for you. Just text me when you're done.'

Adey rummaged through the pile of documents and other items, which were in sealed bags. She found nothing of interest: custody record, transcripts of 999 calls, medical notes from the hospital in relation to Anderson's treatment and Ms Butt's death, and a few witness statements of people who arrived on the scene after the crash and so saw nothing of relevance. She put a few irrelevant documents to one side for copying so that Taylor would be none the wiser as to what she had really come to see. At last she found it − a plastic exhibit bag containing the possessions of the deceased. A leather handbag, purse, mobile phone, lipstick, Manchester Central Library card in the name of Heena Butt with date of birth, and a key. She took a compact out of her own bag and opened the lid. She pressed the key hard into the putty inside, creating an imprint, then replaced the key. She checked the purse: £450 in cash, nothing else. It didn't add up. She could have been a prostitute – a lot of cash, no credit cards – but it was all too sterile. None of the usual crap: receipts, bits of paper, tissues. The bag only contained the bare essentials, as if it had just been bought or someone had deliberately tried to avoid leaving any trail. Nobody travelled without proper ID, unless for good reason. Had the prosecution based the deceased's identity purely on a library card?

Amongst the documents in the box was a Technocel report – an analysis of the contents of the phone. Only four numbers in the contacts. A history of traffic but only sporadically and only for the six weeks preceding the crash. It didn't fit a typical usage pattern. Adey was intrigued. Who was this woman? She picked up the handbag again and ran her hands around the inside. Her fingers felt a bump in the lining. She turned the bag inside out. A tiny hidden pocket. She could only fit two fingers in. She pulled out a piece of paper, folded over several times. The police had clearly missed it. She unfolded the paper. Blank. She turned it over. Scrawled handwriting. Her heart skipped a beat. Someone had scribbled:

John Anderson, Spinningfields Chambers – 05man.

The part she couldn't fathom was ‘05man'. It had to mean 5am, Manchester. But the deceased was in the car at around 5pm. One thing was for sure, she had planned to meet Anderson. Had he been aware of that meeting? Adey cursed. Rather than finding the evidence that proved Anderson's guilt, the mystery had only deepened.

Once she'd finished, Adey handed Taylor a wad for copying. The thought of taking the piece of paper without revealing its existence to Taylor had occurred to her, but that would forgo the ability to prove where it was recovered. ‘You missed this; I'll take a copy,' she said, thrusting the note under Taylor's nose.

He scrutinized the contents, then Adey's face.

‘You're not going to suggest I put it there?' she asked, reading his mind.

Taylor took the bundle of documents for copying. ‘Of course not.' He'd dismissed the possibility of a plant, only because he couldn't see how it could help Anderson's case, and he wasn't in the least bit surprised that traffic had missed it.

Once he came back Adey pressed Taylor for more information: ‘Have you tried to cell-site the numbers in the deceased's phone?'

‘You are joking?' scoffed Taylor. ‘Do you know how much an expert charges for that?' But it was a reasonable request. He'd already asked Armstrong to authorise it. He'd refused on the basis that it couldn't assist the prosecution and the cost couldn't be justified. Taylor was more interested in doing right by the deceased. After all, she was someone's daughter, or even mother. Her family could be wondering where she was. It wasn't in his nature to just leave things hanging like this.

Adey persisted: ‘We need to know who she was. It's a proper line of enquiry.' ‘Tell it to the CPS,' Taylor replied, seemingly unmoved.

Adey made to leave.

‘Just a minute.' Taylor had a thought. ‘Look, why don't you try and get the judge to order us to do it. Or make a third party application. We both want to know who she was.'

Adey hadn't expected that. This copper seemed all right.

‘Don't go telling anyone I suggested that,' he said.

The car park was deserted, other than Ahmed sitting in his Bentley. He flashed his headlights.

Hussain weaved his way around the potholes full of rainwater towards the vehicle. He opened the passenger door and climbed in. He could smell the leather seats. ‘What do you want?'

‘Just an update on the case, my friend.'

Hussain studied Ahmed's face. ‘Why do you care so much?'

‘I don't like prosecutors. Especially good ones.'

‘Or you had something to do with the crash? People died.'

‘Be careful what you say to me, Tahir.'

Hussain stared out through the windscreen, unable to bear the sight of the man next to him.

‘A little bird tells me you've listed the case for a
mention
hearing tomorrow. Trying to get disclosure?'

Hussain wasn't surprised that Ahmed knew. He had informants everywhere, even in the police. ‘Yes, I have.'

‘Make sure you don't try too hard. You will remember to lose?'

Hussain cringed on hearing his part of the bargain repeated. ‘I've got to make it convincing.'

‘Look at me,' Ahmed demanded.

Hussain turned his head and held Ahmed's gaze. He could see the evil in his eyes.

‘Just remember how unlucky you are with children, Tahir.' He grinned. ‘I'm not sure your wife could cope with losing another.'

Hussain made to grab Ahmed's collar, then stopped, only just managing to control himself. He thrust the door open and got out. Before Hussain was able to slam the door shut, Ahmed said, ‘I'll be watching you.'

‘Third party application by the defence in the case of Anderson, Your Honour.' The court clerk handed the file up to the judge.

His Honour Judge Cranston looked at Hussain, who was already on his feet. ‘Yes, I've read the application, Mr Khan.'

‘It's
Hussain
, Your Honour.'

The judge ignored the correction.

‘Your Honour will have seen from the defence statement that our case focuses on the mystery surrounding Heena Butt, one of the deceased, and the issue of why she was in the vehicle at the time of the crash. By investigating the provenance of the telephone numbers in the deceased's contacts, and cell-siting the phones at least on the day of the crash, we may be able to ascertain not only who she was, but also her movements on that fateful day.'

‘Miss Stapleton, what do you say?'

Hannah Stapleton rose to her feet with all the gravitas of a successful silk. ‘Well, it's very vague, Your Honour. Firstly, how does any of this deal with the real issue in the case, whether or not the defendant fell asleep whilst driving? We haven't been served with any defence expert report dealing with that. Secondly, as I am sure Your Honour knows, we are a week from trial and it could take months for the network providers to find and disclose the information. It would inevitably mean vacating the trial date.'

‘Yes, I agree, this is a hopeless application, nothing more than a fishing expedition.'

Hussain was back on his feet. ‘But, Your Honour—'

‘Mr Hussain! I've made my ruling. Call on the next case.'

Hussain called Adey from the robing room with the bad news. She was now on the case full-time, which was killing the practice. ‘Another brick wall. You got anything?' he asked, in hope rather than expectation.

‘'Fraid not. Been following Connor's pupil all morning. Total waste of time.'

‘Tilly?'

‘Yeah. Back where it all began, believe it or not – Starbucks. She's just bought a coffee.'

‘Leave it now, Adey. We can't afford to waste any more time on her. Let's take stock at my house this evening.'

Adey was disappointed. Her instincts told her there was something here to know. ‘All right,' she said, giving up her place in the queue. ‘Oh, hang on!'

‘What is it?'

‘She's got her laptop out.'

‘All right, ten minutes.'

Adey had already hung up. She sat down and got her own laptop out and waited. Bingo. Tilly had logged into the coffee shop Wi-Fi – an insecure network. It took Adey all of ten seconds to hack in and see what Tilly was doing. Writing emails in her personal account. Perfect. Adey was soon reading emails, sent and received. A few sickly exchanges with a boyfriend – Josh. She got the impression he was working abroad, possibly in the armed forces. Also a few emails from Connor. Strange they weren't on the chambers email address. ‘Oh my!' Adey said out loud as she read the contents. The exchanges started as a bit of flirty fun, but became increasingly explicit. No doubt about it, Connor was sleeping with Tilly, and had been at the time of the crash. Why the hell had she been sidling up to Anderson in Starbucks?

Perhaps the day hadn't been completely wasted.