Doors Without Numbers (17 page)

The thoughts in Hammonds mind were consuming and distracting him from his objective to getting to the shelter of his car quickly and escaping the cold. Would it have made a difference if Thomas had a father figure in his life? Hammond wondered. He quickened his pace across the car park, striding purposely, now considering the following day. Hammond knew that he would face the wrath of Beech in the morning; admittedly the arrest had been a shambles. It had attracted too much attention, Thomas’s name would be withheld from the media, but it would only be a matter of time before people started gossiping.

His hands were pushed further up the sleeves of his coat as he unlocked his car, wishing he had brought gloves with him and reminded himself to bring them with him the following morning. His wrists ached from where he had stabbed at the computer keyboard with two opposing fingers, but at least the reports had been completed. He sat in the car, not wanting to go home. He needed distraction from his thoughts, perhaps he could see Kathleen tonight despite having cancelled their meeting earlier. He had been partly relieved that he had a good reason to cancel the dinner arrangement but felt ashamed at having disappointed her and Lloyd. He checked the digital display on the car dashboard and considered whether it was worth travelling to Charing where the Harris’ lived but then he remembered Jenny was at home and turned the ignition. It would be better to accept Kathleen’s gracious offer to wait until another day before meeting her.

He parked the car outside his house and smiled weakly when he saw Jenny seated on the porch step smoking. She looked at him through the fog of smoke and read from his face that he wasn’t in the mood to talk. Instead she shuffled her body sideways, enabling his access through the front door. As he passed, Hammond placed a hand on the top of her head and bent to kiss her forehead lightly. “Thank you for not smoking inside the house.” He said simply. She stood up, squashing the spent cigarette under her foot and followed him into the house, closing the door with a gentle kick.

“
All arguments are meaningless until we gain personal experience.”
Henry Havelock Ellis. The Dance of Life. 1923

Hammond’s arm wormed out the bedclothes and fumbled their way across the top of the bedside table until his fingers grasped the mobile that had rung him awake.

“Where are you? Beech is on the warpath!” Dunn was obviously not pleased, Hammond forced his eyes to focus. The sun had intruded into his room through a crack in the curtains and warned him too late that he had overslept. He groaned and sat up in bed.

“I’ve overslept. I will be there soon.”

He hung up and stumbled to the bathroom. He hoped the delay would give Beech a chance to calm down before he saw him, Dunn was good with words maybe she could use her hypnotic voice on his superior officer.

A half hour later Hammond’s car nosed its way past the melting snow heaps into the Head-quarters car park. The overtired Inspector ambled his way towards the building looking up at the office windows as he did so. There was a chance that Beech would not have seen him arrive, if so, this would allow him an opportunity to sneak in unnoticed.

Emma’s face showed him he was in trouble, she held up two crossed fingers to wish him luck as he made his way toward Beech’s office. The Detective Superintendant was talking on the phone as Hammond looked through the glass door. Beech signalled to him to come in, his face was red and blotchy. Not a good sign Hammond reckoned, he gingerly sat down on the chair in front of Beech’s desk and waited until the telephone was returned to its cradle.

“Good Morning Wallace. How are you? I hope you feel rested?”

Surprisingly devoid of sarcasm, Beech’s voice sounded pleasant but he didn’t wait for Hammond to respond before coming around the desk and perched on it forcing Hammond to look up at him.

“I apologise for the delay Sir, I left a report from last night’s questioning”

Beech nodded an acknowledgement seemingly interested. “I read it. I understand the boy confessed, yet you haven’t submitted everything over to CPS.”

“The evidence has to be confirmed. I want to go through the forensic reports first before they’re notified.”

“You have a confession. That should be enough to collaborate the evidence you have gathered so far. Why are you stalling?”

Hammond looked at Beech and without invitation, stood up from his chair and walked behind it, preferring to maintain eye contact from a mutual level.

“We only have evidence that the pedal that caused bruising on Robert’s thigh was caused by a similar pedal to the pedals found on Thomas Taylor’s bike. Thomas confessed to beating Roberts with a piece of wood. However, despite Forensics examining all the wood they found at the scene, no fingerprints or DNA has yet been identified, possibly from degradation.”

“The log was taken from the scene?”

“Possibly, although evidence could have easily been contaminated by the bad weather. Wood splinters were found on Robert’s clothing but they can’t be matched to one particular piece of wood.”

“So, what do you need?” Beech was impatient but willing to listen to Hammond.

Hammond’s hands found their way to the warm comfort of his trousers pockets, he stood looking at Beech as he contemplated aloud.

“We still haven’t found Robert’s wallet. Thomas’ bedroom was searched but we haven’t found anything yet. The nail clipping is more than likely to be Thomas’; he had a torn nail on his right hand but it still needs to be compared with the DNA sample we took from him. Trace evidence on the pedal needs to be confirmed and I am waiting for the blood screening report. Hopefully we can identify the weapon, but most importantly, we haven’t got a motive.”

Beech scoffed and was about to interrupt Hammond by reminding him of Thomas’s account in his confession but Hammond ploughed through. He had concerns about the case, despite believing Thomas was guilty of the attack on Roberts. Thomas hadn’t mentioned covering Robert’s body with the branches that were found lying across him when his body was discovered. It was important to identify who had done it because it showed that Roberts was either dying or already dead when someone attempted to hide him, in which case the attack wasn’t as spontaneous as Thomas had led him to believe. Collecting enough wood and debris to cover a body took time and some rational thought. It wasn’t the actions of someone who had hit out in panic and then run away. Either Thomas had since forgotten covering the body, which could be due to memory loss brought on by trauma or someone had approached Roberts following Thomas’ attack whilst Roberts was still alive. Why did they not find Nitrates in Robert’s pockets? Surely a patient with unstable Angina would carry Nitrates in case of an attack, yet none were found at the scene. If Roberts had been having an attack, and someone had removed the nitrates as he lay defenceless, that was undoubtedly an act of murderous intent, yet Thomas Taylor had not mentioned removing anything from Roberts, including his wallet and nothing was found at his home.

“There is a suggestion that Roberts had paedophilic tendencies. He was questioned in 2001 for exposing himself to a child and I doubt it is a coincidence that Adam Schaffer caught Roberts loitering near the library which is next to a children’s play park. Thomas had reason to believe that he was in danger, perhaps of being sexually molested. However he had the opportunity to run away. His statement doesn’t add up, it could be that he said what he thought we wanted to hear. If I could find some concrete evidence that Roberts was a threat to Thomas, to children in particular, it would help to understand why Thomas behaved the way he did.”

Beech stood up from his perch on the desk and walked back to his chair. He was irritated by his DI and made no attempt to hide it.

“Thomas’s behaviour is not the issue here Wallace. He reacted to a negative situation such as being approached by Roberts with violence. Evaluating why or whether there is a chance he will do so again is not our concern. The psychological evaluation will cover that. You have means; He lied about not recognising Roberts even though Roberts had been identified as being a regular to the woods. You have motive; to stop Robert’s advances. Thomas had the opportunity, more than one, since he returned to the scene, and you have evidence. You have a confession, therefore you charge him. When the forensic report comes in, you charge Thomas and get him to court. Stop procrastinating, do your job!”

Beech’s voice was louder as he ended his sentence. His attitude angered Hammond. The man was ordering him to effectively back down from another investigation again.

“So, that’s it. Case closed?”

Beech looked at Hammond hard, his jaw set. He looked as if he was prepared to have an argument with his subordinate if it was invited, and judging by the way Hammond was now pacing the office, he presumed the invitation was imminent.

“Wallace, let’s be frank. You haven’t exactly investigated this case with what I would call professionalism so far. Be grateful that you caught the person responsible without making a complete mockery of the Major Crimes Unit. Learn to step away before you end up walking over the edge.”

“Let me do my job without blocking me!” Hammond shouted back at Beech. The two men glowered at one another, each refusing to back down. Edwards, Dunn and Galvin had made their way along the corridor on the pretext they were collecting coffee. The raised voices could be heard quite clearly. Edward raised an eyebrow whilst Dunn stood unsure whether to go in to the office. She felt loyal to her DI, she was equally responsible for the arrest of Thomas, she should be in there with him, taking the fall.

“I am protecting you as well as myself Wallace!” Beech ignored Hammond’s attempt to voice his opinion on his latter statement and continued with his reasoning.

“Forgetting the shambolic display of what was meant to be a media briefing, let’s focus on your handling of the investigation so far; You charged in and questioned Thomas on your own without notifying your team or your superiors. You questioned William Barnes on his own. You have a highly accomplished team yet you aren’t using your resources to their full capacity. You aren’t behaving like a team member, let alone a senior officer! To make matters worse, you chase a twelve year old kid out of his house and down several main roads risking his safety. What if he had run out in front of a car because you made him panic? There were witnesses all of whom could testify that Thomas was being pursued recklessly and without due cause. Imagine what that would have done Wallace! You have cocked up big time and I am offering you a chance to step away and let the CPS take it on from here. Don’t fight me on this!”

Hammond was very tempted to storm out of the office but he wanted to get his words in first. Beech needed to hear what he wanted to say and the temper he had stirred in Beech was not enough to make him back down.

“We don’t have enough! If we turn it over to the Crown Prosecution Service now, two things are likely to happen; either Thomas is sent down as a violent delinquent, which I do not believe him to be, or his aggressive behaviour is swept aside as being justified, which I don’t believe it was. Either way, there are questions about this case that must be resolved! You have got to give me more time!”

Beech sighed, he wanted to end this conversation whilst he was capable of acting responsibly. He tried the gentler approach. “Let me be honest Wallace. Your behaviour has been erratic lately. You are not behaving as a Senior officer. You’ve lost your objectivity. What is going on? Is it your family? Do you need time off?” He paused as if deciding on behalf of Hammond that this was exactly what was needed. “Take some time off, a couple of weeks. God knows a holiday is long overdue. Use it, then come back fresher and stronger. DS Dunn is more than capable of heading an investigation until you get back.”

Hammond stood with his mouth open. He was sorely tempted to reply with more than words, instead he turned on his heels and slammed the door so hard he very nearly looked behind him to see if he had broken it.

It hadn’t been Hammond’s intention to drive to the hair salon in the high street, but he had needed to go somewhere and driving through the town aimlessly did nothing to resolve his agitation. He was angry with Beech for making him feel inadequate. He considered himself to be a good officer, a fair and dedicated law enforcer who simply wanted to do a thorough job. Instead of his efforts being appreciated he had been humiliated and treated as a inexperienced rookie. Ideally a man in his position should return to the office and talk to his team but pride had got the better of him so he decided to stay close to head quarters but away from Beech until his temper calmed.

The sun had melted most of the snow apart from a few shovelled heaps on the kerbs that were turning to a brown coloured slush. He parked the car in a free space just outside the salon and looked through the window. It looked empty apart from an older woman whose hair was being blow-dried by a skinny man wearing tight jeans and a black waistcoat over a white t-shirt. A young girl was seated on a high stool near the door twirling her hair around a finger whilst talking on the phone. She was laughing and bowing her head down to avoid the questioning gaze of a female hair stylist who watched her through the mirror’s reflection. It was an impulsive decision to go in the shop but once there, Hammond felt more relaxed. He was anonymous and in the last place anyone would expect him to be. That made him feel free to think about his predicament at work without the pressure of being followed by well meaning colleagues who would no doubt persuade him to go back to Beech with cap in hand.

He sat on the faux leather tub chair nearest the window whilst he waited for the receptionist to finish her conversation on the phone, it was evident the girl was in the throes of a new romance. He watched her and wondered if she was popular with the boys. The girl wasn’t pretty but it was obvious she knew how to flirt. In his limited experience, the girls good at flirting were often the ones to avoid, they would surely be bored after the chase. As if reading his mind, the girl looked across and asked if she could help him. He said he would like a haircut. This was, on reflection, he realised, a rather stupid thing to say, after all why else would he be in a hair salon? He was asked whom he would like to cut his hair, he could have Danny or Tony. Hammond looked at the two hair stylists and tried to guess which name belonged to the female stylist. He was inhibited when it came to interacting with camp men and the skinny man looked like he talked a lot. He took a chance and chose Danny which he presumed was a derivative of Danielle. The receptionist called the name aloud and the male stylist looked up and said he would be free in five minutes. He smiled at Hammond and invited him to look at magazines whilst he waited. Inwardly Hammond groaned, he wondered if it would look too prejudiced if he now decided to change his mind and choose Tony instead. He decided it would and resolved to ignoring the fashion magazines completely and looked out the window.