Death on Account (The Lakeland Murders) (8 page)

‘Yes, exactly’ said Hall. ‘So let’s see if our man was driving more slowly than the traffic on the way in from Burneside Road, in which case we’ll have one part of the story nailed down. Then let’s see if we can establish that the X5 was parked up at Burneside Road, although we’re already pretty sure it was, as Charlie says.’

‘So do you reckon that the killer flew straight out from Liverpool afterwards?’ asked Charlie.

‘Odds on, not just because we found the car so close to the airport, and they didn’t even bother with false plates, but mainly because of the fact that the killer used a garotte, and used it so skillfully.’

‘Spanish practices, eh?’ said Coward. Jane looked blank.

‘You’re showing your age now, Charlie’ said Hall. ‘Come on, let’s knock it on the head for tonight, if you’ll pardon the expression.’

Thursday, 25th April

Ian Mann was up before six, and had been for a quick, fast run and was showered by seven. It looked like it would be another lovely day, but Mann knew better than to expect it to last. For the first time since he’d been suspended he felt like himself again. He felt like a copper. So as he chopped the fruit to go on his breakfast bran he started to think properly about what had happened to Williams. What he’d told Gorham was completely true in every particular: he hadn’t discussed any aspect of Williams’ new identity, or his significance, with anyone other than Robinson, Hall, and Sheridan, the fast-talking DI from Merseyside. He’d never emailed Williams, and they’d only spoken a handful of times on the phone, and met just three of four times, although two of those were in the past fortnight.

Mann knew that his computer and phone records would confirm his version of events, but that proved nothing. If he’d grassed Williams up to Cafferty he would have done it on a borrowed or nicked phone. Of course it was possible that Williams was just unlucky, and had been spotted somewhere. He’d barely moved a two-hour drive from where he used to live, and he’d made precious little attempt to change his appearance either. But Mann had always got the impression that Williams was being reasonably careful. He was avoiding the tourist traps, and he’d said that he had no contact whatever with his family and former associates. And Mann believed him, because Williams’ nearest and dearest had disowned him to anyone who would listen when he grassed on the Cafferty boy, and Mann had no doubt they’d have told Cafferty where Williams was if they knew.

So a leak was probably the most likely explanation, and Mann knew that it was a line that Andy Hall was bound to follow, sooner or later. Mann knew they were friends, and that Hall didn’t believe that he was in any way connected with Williams’ death. That wouldn’t stop him from seeking to confirm that belief though. So when the time came, who would Hall put on it? It would have to be someone he trusted implicitly, which meant either Ray Dixon or Jane Francis. And Jane seemed like a racing certainty for the job. That made Mann feel better, but only for a minute or two. Because time was moving on, and Mann knew that his objective and Jane’s would only be slightly different: but they would certainly be different enough to matter. Because all Mann needed to do was eliminate himself as a suspect, while Jane would want to know who the source was, if there was one. As he ate he thought about what he could do to achieve his objective.

Afterwards he walked round to his dad’s house. He knew that he’d already have been up for a couple of hours, and sure enough he found his dad reading the paper in the sitting room when he let himself in.

‘Hello, son’ said his dad. There was something in his smile that told Mann that he was relieved as well as glad to see him. Especially so bright and early.

‘Sorry I’ve not been round, dad.’

‘Not to worry. You’re here now. You look well, Ian. Are you going back to work then?’

‘Not yet, no. It might be a while dad, it might be never. I’ve just got to accept that.’

His dad nodded. ‘You might be well out of it.’

‘Fancy a brew?’ asked Mann, making for the kitchen.

When he came back with the teas, and a couple of biscuits for his dad, Mann sat on the old sofa and listened as his dad chatted away. When he’d been a kid, even after his mum had died, Mann’s dad had always been a quiet man. Not distant, not remotely forbidding, he just never said much. But now, in his seventies, that had changed, and Mann just let the flow of news wash over him. One of his older brother’s kids looked like he’d be accepted by the Fire Service, and the bloke from the gas company had been round to service the boiler. His dad had seen a fox in the garden, the night before last.

‘They’re bold buggers these days. It went straight for the bin. Left a hell of a mess. It took me ages to clear it up. Some of my rubbish blew in to next door, so I went straight round and got it all back.’

‘You should have phoned me, dad. I would have cleared it up for you. I dare say I could deal with your fox too.’

‘There’d just be another one take its place, but thanks for the offer, son.’

‘That’s all right, dad.’

‘I tell you one thing though, foxes aren’t the only vermin round here just now.’

‘Not rats surely?’

‘No, ‘course not. I’m talking about that Terry Walker. You know him?’

‘And I thought you said it wasn’t a rat. Yes, I know Terry, worse luck. What’s he been up to now? Not gnawing through electrical cables?’

His dad laughed. ‘Jean at number 57 told me that your lot were round there yesterday, and he and his mates had only been pelting Eleanor and young Gemma with burning coals off a barbecue, or the fire or something. And believe it or not Nobby didn’t even nick him for it. That’s just not right, that’s not.’

‘Gemma’s the severely disabled kid, the one you see being pushed along round here?’

‘That’s her. Sixteen years old and never said a word. Not one. Her poor mum can’t even know how she feels, what she needs, poor kid.’

‘It can’t be easy.’ Mann drained his tea. ‘But listen, dad, what Jean said can’t be right. Terry is an absolute dick-head, but if he’d done something like that we’d have him for it, I promise you. It would have been Nobby who’d have been round, like she said, and he’s a good lad. He’s old school is Nobby, and he wouldn’t take any shit from the likes of Terry. If push came to shove he’d get suck in and mix it with Terry, and his mates, not like some of our young PCs. They’d want back up if they spotted a bit of dog-dirt. So I don’t think that can be right, Nobby would have nicked him on the spot, I guarantee it.’

‘You’re probably right, son, but it’s what Jean said, and she’s usually a sight more reliable than this rag.’ Mann’s dad dropped his paper on to the side table. ‘But you have to admit that the likes of Terry Walker gets away with murder round here.’

‘Not murder, dad, but far too much. I’ll certainly grant you that.’

Andy Hall was also drinking tea, rather weak and too milky, in Superintendent Robinson’s office. They’d agreed to have a daily, informal debrief on the Williams killing, and since Hall always imagined that Robinson slept in starched Cumbria Constabulary pyjamas the only ‘informal’ aspect that Hall could see was that Val Gorham hadn’t actually been told that the meeting was taking place. So the two men were alone.

‘Well done for finding the vehicle so quickly, and for piecing so much of the timeline together, Andy. We must have a good chance of catching the killer.’

‘Thanks, I’ll pass that on to the team. And I agree we’ve got a decent chance of identifying him, but as to catching him, I’m not so sure.’

‘You’re thinking that he flew out of Liverpool? A foreigner then?’

Hall tried not to smile. He’d often thought that Superintendent Robinson had a little bit of UKIP about him.

‘Yes, probably on Tuesday evening. I know it sounds a bit far-fetched to have a professional hit-man plying his trade on Gooseholme, but you can see why Billy Cafferty would want someone from overseas for this one.’

‘To make sure we can’t prove a connection between him and the killer.’

‘Absolutely. I’m sure Billy has a pretty low opinion of us, not least because we’ve never put him away for anything worth talking about, but he must know that we’ll be absolutely certain that he was behind this. So it makes sense to get as much distance as possible, in every sense, between himself and the killer.’

‘Look, Andy, it would probably be a decent result for us if you can identify this man with certainty, even if we can’t put him away. I’d settle for that, especially if we can get there quickly.’

Hall nodded. What Robinson meant was that it would be a decent result for Superintendent Robinson, current front runner for the Deputy Chief’s chair that would be vacant when the current Deputy ‘retired’ on the end of the new Chief’s boot. And word was that the booting was imminent.

‘Understood, Sir. And I think we may know who he is pretty soon.’

Robinson smiled. ‘Soon would be good, Andy. And then there’s the other issue, which I suggest we try to discuss when it’s just the two of us.’

‘You mean how the killer, and by extension Billy Cafferty, knew where Williams was?’

‘Exactly. I assume that’s part of the investigation?’

‘Absolutely it is. At the very least we’re looking at conspiracy to murder charges, ideally including one for Billy, for anyone who was involved in fingering Williams to our killer. Of course if the leak came from our side of the fence, or worse still from this station, then we’re looking at an outside Force having to become involved.’

‘But at present you’ve no evidence to suggest that this was an inside job as it were?’

‘Absolutely not, despite the entirely unjustified questioning of Ian Mann.’

Robinson threw up his hands in a conciliatory gesture. ‘My hands are tied.’ They didn’t look tied to Hall. ‘You know I can’t discuss it anyway, Andy, so I suggest we just park it for now. But how are you planning to progress that line?’

‘Obviously our best approach is to catch our killer, and then try to work back from there. But if we don’t then we’re looking at whoever his contacts were in the UK. And of course we may find other evidence, perhaps from Williams’ own activity, that might point towards the person who informed on him.’

‘So you’re actively looking at Williams?’

‘You bet’ said Hall, though he knew for a fact that Robinson hadn’t even put in a quid for the station’s Grand National sweepstake. He was no fan of gambling himself, but that was the problem with zealots he thought, they have absolutely no sense of proportion. ‘SOCO have almost finished with Williams’ house and car, and we’ve got a couple of the Specials, under Jane Francis’ supervision, looking at his electronic trail.’

‘Really? Which Specials?’

‘Alison Thornton and Gill McGrath. They both have relevant experience.’

‘Oh yes, Alison comes from an accountancy background, doesn’t she?’

‘She does. How did you know that?’

‘She wrote to me, and I put her forward. She struck me as being a nice woman. Just right for us.’

Hall suspected that was code for a fellow God-botherer, but he didn’t pursue the point. He was glad that Robinson hadn’t mentioned Gill, but perhaps he didn’t listen to the office gossip. It was probably against his religion.

On his way back to his office Hall stopped at the office kitchen, which was already in a state despite the fact that the cleaners had only left a couple of hours before, and made a couple of teas. He put three sugars in Ray Dixon’s, and walked back into the open CID office. He held up a cup and called out to Ray, who looked up and waved back. When they were in his office Hall asked how the CCTV analysis was going.

‘I think we know exactly where the X5 was, and when, for all the time it was on our patch. We’re tracking it back when it left again through ANPR now, but what’s the betting it turns up at or near Liverpool airport on Tuesday evening? It was nicked on Monday night by the way, sometime after seven pm, from an address on the Wirral. Wasn’t reported until Tuesday morning.’

‘So our friends on Merseyside will try to pick it up from then on, and follow the trail back to where it was found burnt out?’

‘Aye. That’s what they’re saying.’

‘Good, that’s fine, so long as they’re giving it absolute priority. Are you happy to act as DI Sheridan’s liaison, keep the pressure on?’ Dixon nodded. ‘We’re interested in everything to do with that car, from the time it was nicked until the moment it was on fire, and of course we want to try to establish if our man was dropped off at the airport.’

‘I don’t think they’re making any progress on the airport side of it, boss. That’s the impression I get anyway. Tony Sheridan only has a couple of techies and a pair of DCs available, so they’re concentrating on the car. He reckons that they just don’t have enough to go on to spot our man at the airport as yet.’

‘I see.’ Dixon knew Hall well enough to give him a bit of thinking time. What he said was usually worth waiting for. ‘If we can’t give Tony a decent picture of our man I suppose he’s right. Is there any chance that we could get one though?’

‘From the CCTV that the X5 turns up in? There’s always a chance, but I doubt it. And when our cheese-wire merchant was on foot in town he didn’t pass a single camera, whether by accident or design we don’t know.’