Doors Without Numbers (26 page)

Hammond sat still and breathed slowly, trying to ignore the wave of frustration that threatened to overwhelm him. He was bored with this case, all the possibilities could easily amount to absolutely nothing at all, yet he couldn’t rid himself of the sense of duty he owed to Harris. There was still a nagging feeling in him that Harris could be right. There was something odd, but he couldn’t pinpoint exactly what. He tried to remember the first time he had the uneasy feeling. It had been when he had been looking at the photographs of Lucas Dean’s apartment. Perhaps it would be worth looking at them again, but to see what? He had looked at the police investigation pictures carefully, if there had been anything unusual he would have seen it, even if he didn’t the investigating officers at the scene would have. So why this burning feeling that he was missing something? The clock ticked monotonously in the hall, the minutes slid past and the stress gradually left him. He thought about Paul and wondered where he was, whether he was angry. The Christmas tree stood like an unwelcome guest in the corner of the room and he realised he hadn’t even bought any gifts for anyone. He had been so preoccupied with his own mess that he hadn’t even considered how his son was feeling. He had left his studies to be near me and in return I am behaving as if he isn’t here. Hammond looked around the room, noting the decorations and the tracks in the carpet left by the vacuum cleaner. He swallowed with guilt. I am a rotten father he thought. I should appreciate my family instead of shouting at them. Then it dawned on him what he had failed to notice before. Mark Callum had no family. Fiona Nwasu and Claire Bennet had no family. Lucas Dean had been in foster care throughout his childhood. Theresa Davenport was described as a loner, with no known family, but she was an exception. Someone had cared enough about her to have written about her on a forum for bereaved family and friends of people who had committed suicide. And then Hammond remembered. He allowed himself a gleeful chuckle before clutching his ribs to stop them hurting. He remembered Cherry13, and he knew their identity. He had found the connection between the five decedents and Salima Abitboul. They had known each other during their younger years, had possibly lived together or had been fostered by an unknown carer. This explained why Mark Callum had kept Salima’s hairbrush. It had been a memento, something to remember her by; an item no-one would notice missing.

Hammond was relieved to have found a lead but at the same time, was infuriated by the slow progress. There were still unanswered questions. What was their connection to Pattie? Salima had possibly been employed by her, but what relevance was Pattie to the others? Were they working for her also? If so, in what way? Nausea welled up in his throat with the thought that the children had been used as prostitutes. It wouldn’t be the first time that lone children had slipped through the welfare system. What Hammond didn’t know was whether Rachel Turner had been their social worker at the time, if so, she would have known each person individually and would possibly be able to shed light on the five people. Harris had been correct in his assumption that the deaths had been linked, but this wasn’t enough to warrant any more attention on the deaths themselves if all people had died by their own hand. The only conclusion that Hammond could make, at this point, was that there was a possibility that the five people had all agreed to end their lives or perhaps more rationally, they were affected by the death of their friends and had decided to follow by example. There wasn’t enough to suggest anything suspicious although Hammond was aware that he was beginning to feel increasingly concerned about Harris’ involvement. Obviously there was more to his story than he had admitted, no doubt involving the woman Harris had referred to as Pattie. However, it didn’t explain why Harris had initiated the investigation. His research had been thorough, the amount of notes he had written confirmed this, but what wasn’t apparent was why Harris had felt the need to delve deeper for more information. The only rational thought was that Harris had been unaware of what had been going on at the time of his involvement. Perhaps he had been used somehow. Following Harris’ confession during their last meeting, it would be easy to assume that Harris wanted to free himself of guilt before it was too late, but even as he thought it, Hammond knew such a theory didn’t make sense, because Harris had only suggested being guilty of taking bribes and coercing confessions. There would be a time when Harris wouldn’t remember his own involvement so surely it didn’t matter? Unless, Harris was guilty of a lot more but was too ashamed to say. But why willingly expose himself when it otherwise would not be discovered? Hammond studied the photograph of his former colleague, he searched the eyes in a foolish attempt to understand the man behind the image. Suddenly he realised why his friend had asked for his help. He had already known there were more to the deaths than simply suicidal people ending their misery, Harris wanted the truth of their deaths investigated by someone he trusted because in some way he felt responsible.

“
No reasonable moral being may draw breath in the world without an open-eyed freedom of choice.”
Henry Havelock Ellis. The Dance of Life. 1923

The call from Dunn came just before seven in the morning. Hammond was wide awake having spent several hours reviewing Harris’ notes.

“I couldn’t get back to you any earlier, we had multiple stabbings outside a nightclub.”

“‘Tis the season for it.”

“Too many drunk people getting out of control isn’t exactly my idea of Christmas celebrations. Anyway, your message sounded urgent.”

“You have a lot to tell me, and I want to hear it. Sooner rather than later.”

He could hear her hesitation at the other end of the line, and it annoyed him. It was obvious she wanted to tell him something but was holding back. Hammond didn’t want to play games. He prodded her for information. There was a pause and then a sigh as Dunn decided to be co-operative.

“Beech is hauling us all in about the Robert’s case. It seems that DCI Morris has made a formal complaint.”

“Against whom?”

“You.”

The conversation was limited, since Dunn had been taken off the case before Hammond, she was unable to provide much information.

“All I know is that I was called in to go over my report. Edwards and Galvin had to do the same. I don’t know for sure what the complaint is although I suspect Edwards and Galvin had more to answer than myself.”

“What kind of questions were you asked?”

There was a heavy sigh before Dunn replied.

“Mainly about whether I thought you were capable of doing your job.”

Paul was sulking and Hammond was doing his best pretending not to notice. He knew he owed his son an apology but decided it could wait until they all had a chance to sit down and talk properly that evening. He made an effort to act cheerful and suggested they go Christmas shopping in the afternoon. It was Christmas Eve and therefore probably too late to buy a turkey but there was only the three of them, roast chicken would be just as good. Jenny nodded politely to Hammond’s suggestion but her eyes focused on Paul who had thrown himself into the arm chair and deliberately drowned out his Father’s words by increasing the television’s volume. Tempted though he was to leave Paul to sulk alone, Hammond found himself hobbling towards the sofa bed where he sat and faced his son. He waited for several moments until Paul granted his attention by switching the television off.

“I’ve let you down Paul. Christmas has come too quick and I guess I wasn’t organised enough. It is not too late to go to spend it with your Mum if you prefer.”

Paul looked petulant. “You need me here, you can hardly walk.”

Hammond denied this, realising his son preferred to be elsewhere. He wasn’t surprised although he was disappointed.

“We’ve hardly seen each other Dad. Mum thought you would be lonely here on your own.”

Hammond felt annoyed at Lyn, he knew it was her guilty conscience that was responsible for Paul being where he didn’t want to be. Either that or she wanted to be alone with her new lover without Paul. But whatever the reason, Hammond felt she had manipulated the situation and a burn of resentment towards her flared up in his gut. With restraint, he managed to reassure his son that he wouldn’t be lonely. They arranged to meet in town for a festive meal before Paul and Jenny depart for Lyn’s house that afternoon. First he needed a lift to the Police Headquarters.

The Police Station looked as if it had been subjected to a brawl between tinsel and foil garlands. As Hammond walked into the reception area, he smelt traces of vomit and disinfectant. He wondered what Christmas would be like if all alcohol was banned for a week and then realised it was the kind of thought his mother would have spoken aloud. He saw Dunn immediately upon entering the Serious Crime Unit. She looked tired, her eyes sunken and dark, but she smiled as she saw him and waited patiently as he made slow progress down the corridor, leaning heavily on his crutches and wincing as each movement reminded him of his healing rib.

“I told them all you were coming in today, I wanted to talk to you but it is a bit hectic at the moment. Galvin and I are occupied on a baby shaking case, the last time I saw Edwards he was about to interview a husband arrested for slashing his wife’s face with a broken bottle. There’s no rest for the wicked.”

“Or the ones left to clear their mess.”

Dunn smiled wearily as they made their way inch by inch towards Detective Superintendent Beech’s office, she knocked on the door and left before Hammond hobbled into the office. DCI Brian Morris was evidently waiting for Hammond’s arrival; his face was set and looked as if he were attempting to restrain an outburst. Beech stood up as Hammond entered and made a performance of moving a chair closer towards Hammond gesturing for him to be seated. He gave the expected polite greeting of welcoming Hammond back before Hammond interrupted and cut to the chase.

“I understand you wanted to see me regarding the Robert’s case?”

Morris turned towards Hammond; he was a good looking man in his early forties. Lean and fit he was often in the newspapers for running marathons and fundraising for numerous charities. Hammond felt in awe of the man’s physique but managed to hide his inner thoughts behind a deliberate open expression.

“DCI Morris has asked me to make some enquiries regarding your involvement in the investigation Wallace. It seems that there have been some details not included in the original report which should have been.”

“Oh?” Hammond’s expression was one of innocent enquiry. He raised an eyebrow at Morris who had leaned back in his chair, the back of his hand rested against his mouth as he allowed Beech to do the talking.

“A neighbour of the late Mr Roberts phoned to enquire whether we had caught the intruder that had been prowling around the neighbourhood. In particular he was most keen to know how long Dymchurch Road was going to be under surveillance.”

Hammond’s eyebrows rose up further; he turned to Morris and shrugged slightly as if he was as confused as the others. Morris appraised Hammond, his eyes narrowed.

“Cut the crap Hammond! You knew Edwards had been conducting his own surveillance without authorisation and you know why. He had been watching the house for days before he caught Samuel Lawson letting himself in to the house last night!”

This was news to Hammond whose ears immediately switched to selective hearing mode. He failed to hear Morris’ continued ranting as he acknowledged DC Edwards’s success. Samuel Lawson. That was a surprise, but then as Hammond digested the information, he realised it wasn’t a surprise, it was the exact opposite. Especially since Lawson was seen letting himself in, presumably with a spare set of keys since there had been no sign of forced entry into Robert’s house. The answer had been staring them all in the face since the beginning. He wasn’t aware that he smiled until Morris’s voice increased in volume.

“...You wanted to stir things up from the very beginning! Everyone knows you wanted to delay the arrest of Thomas Taylor. You’ve handled this case as badly as you handled your team, only now it’s down to us to sort your mess out!”

Hammond leaned forward, ignoring Beech who had sat up ready to take control of the situation. He kept his voice deliberately calm.

“If my team and I had been allowed to investigate Robert’s murder proficiently, I wouldn’t have had to go behind anyone’s back. My team knew that there were too many unanswered questions. Unlike you, they are not so concerned with their case solving ratings as they are doing their jobs efficiently.”

“Damn it Hammond, you always have been a pedantic bastard! You had a confession and substantiating forensic evidence! You had everything you needed! The case was solved.”

“No. It wasn’t, it still isn’t. Not until you can account for the several phone calls to the mobile number or missing wallet, the missing mail or the large cash transactions. Where did the money go? Was Robert’s being blackmailed? If so, you have an alternative motive.”

Morris swore, he found Hammond old fashioned and stubborn; a dinosaur whose methods were outdated and lacking.

“No wonder you haven’t made it past Detective Inspector! The boy gave a motive. The fact that Roberts was a pervert was backed up by Schaffer’s statement. Thomas Taylor lied about training with the other boys, he probably lied about forgetting what he had done with the wood he used to strike Roberts. Either way, his confession and the evidence was good enough for the CPS, anything else will come up in court if it needs to...”

Hammond interrupted. “Did it not occur to you that the woman who made the complaint in 2001 against Roberts shared the same surname as Samuel Lawson? I will bet that Samuel Lawson was the boy approached by Roberts all those years ago in the public toilets. I am also willing to bet that Samuel Lawson recognised Roberts and blackmailed him, and I am sure you will no doubt discover that the money given to him by Roberts was spent on expensive bike components, all of which were paid for online by a credit card under Robert’s name. Moreover, it wouldn’t surprise me if the missing post was collected by Lawson in an attempt to hide the credit card statements. As Lawson is an arrogant little git, it is likely he has held onto the credit card which was probably in Robert’s wallet when it was taken either before or after his death, and I am sure will be found in Lawson’s possession when you have conducted a search.”