Doors Without Numbers (12 page)

The meeting ended with the conclusion that nothing more could be done until Roberts had been thoroughly checked out, each had their own delegated tasks for the following day. Hammond collected his coat from his chair, he considered distributing the artist sketch of Roberts to the media, appealing for more information, but it would be a gamble. If the media found out about Robert’s police record, it could become extremely difficult. Panic would arise amongst the community with the suggestion children had been put at risk. On the other hand, potential witnesses could come forward, family members could be traced, both of which would be essential to learning more about their victim. Hammond sighed heavily, he was too tired to think about it anymore today, tomorrow he would talk to Beech. He had one more task for the day.

There were no vacant parking spaces in New Road, so Hammond resigned to leaving his car outside the pub and walking across to where William Barnes’ cleaner lived. Hammond rang the doorbell and looked up towards where Barnes lived four doors away, wondering how the man was faring following his shock earlier that week. The door was opened by a serious looking woman in her mid thirties. She looked enquiringly at Hammond as he introduced himself.

“Mrs Taylor?” he waited for her confirmation before continuing, showing his Id card holding it at shoulder level. “My name is Detective Inspector Hammond from the Major Crimes Unit. I would like to talk with your son Thomas, I have been told he could help me.”

Her look was anxious, she stood in the doorway, uncertain whether to invite him in. Seeing her look so concerned, Hammond made an effort to smile with reassurance.

“He is not very well at the moment, perhaps you could talk to him another time.”

Hammond promised her he wouldn’t take up too much of their time, perhaps he could come into the house and talk with her first, just to explain his visit. Reluctantly she obliged by allowing him to enter. She took Hammond into a small living room to the side of the hallway. The sofa had been placed with its back to the bay window, various electrical leads from a Play-station console snaked on the carpet toward a large television that occupied most of the south facing wall. Mrs Taylor offered to call Thomas to come downstairs, but Hammond shook his head, he would like to talk to her first. She sat down on the edge of the sofa, without inviting him to do the same, so he stood looking down at her, trying to appear friendly.

“I understand from Mr Barnes, your neighbour, that Thomas enjoys BMX bike riding in the woods behind Sandling Road.”

“Yes. He is a very sporty boy.”

“Was Thomas riding his bike at the weekend?”

“I think so, he spent most of Saturday with his friends, I was working on Sunday, I clean at the nursing home down Bartholomew Lane, He usually goes out with his friends from school or stays here attached to the play-station.” She affected a laugh as if to say, you know what young boys are like.

Hammond smiled sharing the joke with her. “I understand there is a regular gathering of BMX enthusiasts in the woods other than your son. Do you know the names of Thomas’ friends?”

She didn’t. Hammond changed tack and focused his attention on the framed photographs displayed on the window ledge. A boy, presumably Thomas, was beaming with pride as he held up a gold medal hung around his neck. He was dressed in karate gear and looked about ten years of age. Another photograph showed Mrs Taylor and her son with their arms raised, their faces sharing similar expressions of excitement as they rode a rollercoaster. Hammond emitted a small chuckle. Several years ago, on Paul’s eighth birthday, he and Lyn had accompanied Paul on a rollercoaster ride during a visit to Legoland. Hammond remembered the day vividly. It had been in summer and Lyn had worn her favourite strapless yellow summer dress. When they had gone to collect their memento photos of the ride, Lyn had adamantly refused to buy it as she thought her arms had looked fat.

Mrs Taylor watched as she saw Hammond bend to look at the pictures. She noticed the smile that played around his mouth and was complimented on his interest.

“Thomas has always been a bit of a thrill seeker. He had just won the Open Junior Karate Championship when that photo was taken. It was a great day.”

“What grade is he?” Hammond asked the question with genuine interest.

“He had a green belt when the photograph was taken, but he has since been upgraded to Purple.”

Even though Hammond was ignorant in the grading of Karate, it sounded impressive and he said so to Mrs Taylor, congratulating her on her son’s success. She seemed more relaxed and he used the opportunity to his advantage. “You said Thomas has been feeling unwell, I expect there are lots of bugs going round this time of year.” He turned his body away from her indicating he would like to continue his interview with Thomas. She stood up, believing his latter question to be out of polite concern and walked toward the living room door.

“I am not sure what is wrong with him. When I returned home from work on Sunday afternoon he was a little off colour. He has no appetite, just picks at food. I kept him here on Monday but he hated being at home all day on his own. Unfortunately, he is at that age where he refuses to see a doctor.”

Hammond laughed as if to say he understood what that was like. She responded in kind and then ascended the stairs calling Thomas. He heard her explaining his visit. After a few minutes, she looked down at Hammond and offered to introduce him to Thomas.

Hammond followed her direction to a room she identified as her son’s and entered, purposely leaving the door open. The room was a typical boy’s bedroom with a single bed placed under the window, a wardrobe, with its doors hanging slightly off centre. Clean laundry was stacked on top of sports magazines and books. The walls were painted a dark blue making the room feel small and cramped. Hammond recognised the boy from the photographs. He was sitting on a swivel chair kicking his legs that caused the chair to swing from side to side. His fingers flicked with deft speed on the controls of a hand held games console. He was aware of Hammond standing there but was shy and avoided Hammond’s gaze.

“How old are you Thomas?” Hammond sat on the bed, leaning forward with his arms resting on his lap, his fingers interlocked.

“Twelve”.

“Really? You look older.” Hammond hoped that his words would be taken as a compliment. They were. Thomas swung the chair around to face his visitor.

“Do you practise at the bike track in the woods?”

“Yes, I go there as much as I can. I want to be a professional BMX stuntman when I am older. I can do the Barspin, and an Endo, but I still need to practise on my handlebar rides, I have to stop putting my foot down too early.”

Hammond made a encouraging noise, guessing the Bar-spin and Endo were BMX tricks. He attempted to guide the conversation towards Thomas’s friends. Thomas was now in full stride, he was enjoying impressing a policeman with his skills. He told Hammond that he was involved with a group of boys who were practising for a future Freestyle Competition. He had spent Saturday and Sunday with them, practising in the woods. Hammond was given the names of other boys and wrote them in his notebook. They were older than him, Thomas explained with pride, it wasn’t usual for a less experienced boy to be accepted into such an accomplished group. Hammond was pleased with the information Thomas had offered him. He took out the portrait from his pocket and asked Thomas to have a look at the man in the picture, did he recognise him?

Thomas looked down at the sketch of Graham Roberts, and looked away quickly. Hammond noticed Thomas’ body tense. The boys demeanour had changed.

“Thomas, I need to know if you have seen him in the woods. We have had several witnesses who have told us this man was involved with building the tracks.”

“No, I have never seen him before.”

Hammond thanked Thomas for his help and congratulated the boy on his sporting achievements. Thomas smiled weakly in return. On his way back to the front door, Thomas proudly showed Hammond his bike that was housed in the utility room. It was obviously Thomas’ pride and joy, having been lovingly maintained. Hammond left with a cheery wave to Mrs Taylor, but once she had closed the front door after him, he sighed heavily. He knew Thomas had lied and it disturbed him.

The next hour was spent with Hammond wandering aimlessly in the supermarket aisles. He was agitated to discover that his usual groceries had been moved to accommodate the Christmas specialties. Instead of finding tomato soup, he found luxury cranberry stuffing mix and Swedish ginger thins instead of his favoured chocolate digestives. He eventually resolved to throwing items in his trolley regardless whether he had use for them. Despite finding bare cupboards infuriating when he was hungry, grocery shopping always seemed like a waste of time. It was Hammonds turn to make dinner for himself and Jenny tonight but he couldn’t remember whether Jenny was still a vegetarian or had advanced to vegan. He had to remind himself what vegans could or couldn’t eat and wondered whether it was the same as a coeliac diet. Trying to read ingredient labels listed in tiny print proved futile so he resolved to grabbing anything that resembled a vegetable and joined the queue that lead in a orderly fashion down the frozen food aisle.

By the time he had paid and packed the shopping, it was dark. The temperature had dropped dramatically within the last hour and warned that snow was on its way. The car’s digital display flashed repeatedly with the warning of possible ice and he asked the car what was the point of cautioning him unless it was going to suggest an alternative way of taking him to his door.

He drove homeward bound, thinking of Thomas and his meeting with Beech tomorrow morning. Earlier Hammond had been pleased that the investigation was making such progress but now he was burdened at the thought that his only suspect so far was a twelve year old boy. He turned into his road and was surprised to see that the Camper van he had mocked that morning was parked on his neighbour’s lawn. His usual parking space outside his house had been cordoned off with tape and traffic cones on which a large printed sign was stuck;
“Parking Place Reserved for Mr Hugh Jarse.”

Detective Superintendent Beech was not in the best of moods and it was evident that Hammond was the cause of his distemper. The newspaper that he had thrown onto the desk in front of Hammond offered an explanation.
“Local Man’s Killer On The Loose”.
The headline was ridiculous but effective in selling the newspapers, and equally effective in creating panic amongst the small community. Hammond read the front page article with a raised eyebrow, and occasionally scoffed to himself as he read the quotes from local villagers who were apparently concerned they could be the next victims found in the woods. He knew that there would be less interest had the body not have been found so close to Christmas.

“You do realise Wallace, that you have put me in an awkward position?”

Hammond agreed. It was ironic he mused aloud, that he had considered updating the media of their investigation. Beech stood in front of Hammond, looking down at his subordinate with an expression Hammond found difficult to interpret. Eventually Beech sat down in the opposite chair and listened as Hammond debriefed him of the previous days’ activities.

“Why didn’t you take DS Dunn to the boys house with you? She could have gained their trust, possibly more than you did.”

Hammond decided to ignore the question. He knew that Beech would not have understood Hammond’s decision to go alone. Hammond’s original intention the previous evening was to check a potential witness but instead he had left the Taylor’s house having marked Thomas as a plausible suspect. “DS Dunn will be accompanying me later Sir. I am going to check the kids that use the bike tracks, gather any surviving DNA samples and try to find a match it to the nail clipping found on Robert’s clothing. I also want to let Forensics look at the boys’ bikes. However, I haven’t got a motive yet.”

“Of course, there is the possibility that one of the kids witnessed the murder. If you are right about Thomas lying to you, perhaps he denied knowing Roberts through fear of discovery. Have you considered that?”

Hammond shrugged with his hands open on either side of him. “Yes, I have considered that possibility. Either way, I will need him to come in for questioning after checking the others.”

Beech stretched his legs out in front of him, allowing his body to slump further into the seat of the chair. He looked at Hammond for several moments, considering the best course of action.

“Fine. What about the media?”

“First, I do not want it confirmed that this is a possible murder investigation. It’s still possible that the intention was to cause fear to Roberts rather than his death, his attacker may not have realised that Robert’s had a weak heart.”

“Providing you can prove that there is a close temporal relationship between the attack and Robert’s death it is murder, regardless of the perpetrator’s intention, Wallace.”

Hammond ignored Beech’s exclamation that a beaten body was no accident and continued with his reasoning. “We need to get as much information on Roberts as possible. If we release his name, this will help, but we have to be careful. If there is even a sniff that Roberts was once questioned for possible child molestation, we would be opening a can of worms.”

Beech nodded slowly before answering Hammond.

“Or it could provide us with a motive. There may be other kids who have had interest from our victim or Graham Roberts may have family members who can dispel the rumours. Either way, the investigation will benefit by appealing to the public. It’s possible someone saw him travelling either by foot or bus to Saltwood, it would help to know if he was alone. However, I will answer any questions from the press. It has to be said Wallace, it is unlikely we can do a worse job than your earlier attempt.”

Beech left after arranging a time with Hammond for the media briefing. Hammond smiled discreetly to himself as he dipped a chocolate biscuit in his morning coffee, all he would have to do is stand beside Beech looking official. Easy.