Doors Without Numbers (27 page)

Hammond paused. He felt liberated. He tried not to show his pleasure at having sussed out what should have been obvious at the beginning but he couldn’t help it and eventually allowed himself to face Beech whilst still grinning.

Beech coughed “It’s nothing but supposition Wallace. However, it won’t take long to check it out if it is as you say, but what about Lawson’s statement? He had an alibi for the time of the attack.”

Hammond shook his head. “He said he was at home, it is hard to disprove but if he did travel up to Saltwood, he would have cycled or would have taken the train like he usually did. I reckon he would have travelled to Saltwood by train, but possibly, if he was worried about being seen later would have cycled back. Either way, it is easy enough to check.”

DCI Morris spoke up “Lawson gave us a DNA sample, it didn’t match anything found at the scene.”

“I am not suggesting that he attacked Graham Roberts. I believe Thomas is responsible for that. But I reckon Lawson has something to do with this. At the very least he withheld information about Schaffer warning him about Roberts. Why would he do that unless he was hiding something? He may have witnessed the attack or he may have come across Roberts afterwards as he lay injured. It could have been Lawson who had covered the body with the logs or even taken the wallet and the nitrates.”

“What about fingerprints? There weren’t any on those logs.”

“Lawson wears bike gloves. There would be no fingerprints.”

“The bank statements showed cash withdrawals, not credit transfer.”

Hammond shrugged. “It is still possible that Roberts withdrew cash from his current account to pay the credit card bills in full each time. It’s a complicated way of doing it but not out of the ordinary.”

“And the mobile?”

“It could or could not be Lawson’s number, but it shouldn’t be hard to check.”

There was a pause as the three men considered the next plan of action. Eventually Beech spoke.

“Well, if you are right, it does give a different perspective on things. It is possible that Lawson could have called emergency services and saved Roberts or even have intervened and prevented his attack which means he will have to face charges. Also, we have a substantiated motive behind Thomas’s attack on Roberts, two witnesses who can back up the theory that Roberts was a sexual deviant.” He sighed. “Of course, the media will get the public behind the boys once they get a sniff he was a threat to kids.” Beech turned to DCI Morris.

“You are going to have to find the wallet, check if there is a credit card. Find the statements and any receipts for the bike parts. It is worth finding out how Lawson let himself into the house. There wasn’t a forced entry so he could have had a spare key which suggests he had known Roberts better than he led us to believe. Confirm whether he was the boy approached in 2001, the names could be a co-incidence.”

Beech waited until DCI Morris left the office. He scratched his head as he looked at Hammond, positioned like a rag doll in the chair opposite him.

“Wallace, you are a pain in the arse sometimes. I bloody well hope you are right. What the hell was Edwards thinking? I presume he was acting on your orders?”

He acknowledged Hammonds shaken head as denial.

“The media are going to have a field day with this one. I blame you entirely, the whole investigation has been a catastrophe but hopefully it can be turned on its head and be seen to have a successful outcome. It goes without saying that you are not to be involved in this case any further.”

Hammond sat up straighter in the chair. His ankle was throbbing but he was trying to wean himself off the painkillers.

“You think I am a weak link in the chain, is that it?”

Beech looked surprised by Hammond’s directness. “No. Not at all. But I think you have been behaving less like a police officer and more of an independent investigator lately and I struggle to understand why.”

Hammond was about to answer, his satisfaction with the way the Robert’s case was turning out was making him feel bold. There was plenty he wanted to say but he never got the chance to speak his mind. Beech came around the table and sat in the chair Morris had just vacated. He looked at Hammond for several moments before speaking.

“You need to be interviewed again about the car accident. What do you know about the crash Wallace?”

The question was asked not by an interested colleague but as a police officer about to embark on an interrogation. It surprised Hammond enough to be quiet for several moments as he wondered why Beech was interested. It was inevitable that he was to be questioned again. His memory hadn’t returned wholly yet but Hammond had presumed that the investigation would be handled in the normal channels by the Serious Collision Investigation Team.

“A car swerved in front of me and caused me to crash into it.” The answer was simple, it was all Hammond knew but he trusted the information he had been given by the young officer had been true.

Beech looked down at the floor as if he were thinking what to say next and then met Hammond’s eyes.

“No. Not quite. Your car has been examined. You crashed into the car in front because your car’s brake calliper bolts had been cut then loosely refitted, causing them to shear under heavy breaking.”

Hammond was unsure how to respond. Beech’s words were ridiculous. It was impossible that anyone would have had the chance to sabotage his car or even have any reason to do so. Yet he could see Beech was serious. As he sat in stunned silence, Beech collected a folder from his desk and handed it to Hammond, encouraging him to open it. Inside there were photographs showing multiple angles of twisted metal and vehicle carnage scattered across three lanes of a motorway.

From what Hammond could tell, there had been several cars that had been destroyed. He found himself gulping, his mouth and throat had become dry.

“How many...?”

Even as he asked the question, Hammond knew the answer was going to be worse than he could possibly have hoped for.

“Two died, another was in hospital for two weeks. You are not to blame Hammond. That is clear from the witness reports, however, your car wasn’t roadworthy so you will be held partially accountable.”

Hammond nodded. His mind was fogged. None of what Beech was telling him made any sense. He questioned how it was possible that anyone could have cut his brake calliper bolts without anyone noticing. Surely it would have taken time and skill to have done such a thing?

“Is there anything I should know?” Beech was offering Hammond an opportunity to explain why someone would want him dead but Hammond was as confused as his superior officer. He didn’t know anyone who could have done such a thing or would have had any reason to do so. He had received death threats before, it was part of his job to piss criminals off by incarcerating them but less threats were made with the actual promise of being fulfilled.

“DS Dunn suggested you were re-investigating an old case?”

Hammond looked at Beech surprised. What had Dunn told him? Surely she wouldn’t have told Beech about Lloyd Harris? He didn’t answer, preferring to wait until he knew how much Dunn had shared.

“She didn’t tell me anything as such, just a comment that she spoke without thinking before she clammed up. So, I did some checking of my own. It seemed you did some research into a murder from 1991 and checked the computer records on suicides that have happened within the last two years.”

Hammond said nothing. Each computer search was logged, telling the date, time and the searchers identity, he knew this but hadn’t thought anyone would check up on his movements.

Beech was waiting for an explanation but he wasn’t going to get one. He looked at his watch impatiently before getting up and returning to his desk.

“It’s Christmas Wallace and I have a family to go to. I can’t be bothered to sit around playing mind games but I will say this; Providing you maintain the lifestyle of a law-abiding citizen, what you do in your own time is your business. But if you are going to investigate a case in a non-official capacity, you do it in your own time and with your own resources. Keep a day book and log everything. Is that understood? If there is a crime to investigate, by all means, present me with the facts and we’ll consider it but otherwise, leave it outside of this office.” Hammond interpreted Beech’s tone as an opportunity to leave. He shuffled his way out of the chair by leaning heavily on his crutches.

“How long are you going to be on sick leave?”

Hammond turned his attention back to Beech. “Six weeks.”

“Use the time wisely Wallace. Don’t come back until you are fully operational. Hopefully by then this car crash business will be resolved.”

Hammond shared the thought. He looked up at the foil arrangement resembling a star hanging above him and wished on it hard.

As Wallace Hammond threw the dregs of cognac down his throat, he realised he was feeling tipsy and very nearly overbalanced off his stool. The bar attendant was a bald headed Irish man who enjoyed having an audience and caused Hammond to laugh at everything he said even if it wasn’t particularly funny. He refilled the glass that Hammond slammed back onto the bar whilst telling a joke about a nymphomaniac nun. The punch line lacked lustre but caused Hammond to laugh loudly, attracting the attention of fellow diners in the restaurant next door. Hammond raised his glass and toasted the onlookers with a wide grin before tossing back the liquid in an extravagant display of Christmas joviality. They responded with cold stares of disapproval before turning their gaze away from him. He shrugged and muttered to his new Irish friend that people had no humour nowadays. The barman suggested that maybe he should go and celebrate Christmas with his family. In reply Hammond pushed his glass forward to be refilled.

“I have just finished celebrating with my family, now they have gone to celebrate with the ex-wife.”

The barman made an “ah” noise as if he now understood the reasoning behind Hammond’s wish to get drunk. Hammond was aware of the other man’s presumption but didn’t bother to contradict him. He was feeling as if he should celebrate his freedom whilst he could. For the next few hours, there would be no expectations to fulfil, there would be no emergency call outs, no son to disappoint (something he had regretted to notice he was becoming quite good at.) No boss to piss off. He was under no obligation to do anything but please himself. His stool was jolted slightly as a group of women, Hammond guessed they were in their mid-thirties, clustered around the bar, all talking at once and giggling amongst themselves. Hammond smelt their perfume mingling as one, it made his nose itch and threatened to make him sneeze but he managed to contain it and watched them as they deliberated their drink orders. He found the scene being played out in front of him fascinating. The women were constantly playing with their hair as they spoke or adjusting their busts. It was like watching a mating ritual being played out on a wildlife documentary. He caught the eye of a large breasted woman and raised his glass as a toast. She smiled at Hammond. He smiled back. She walked with her companions to a free table at the far end of the room but sat at the table in a place that allowed her to maintain eye contact with him. The women sat talking animatedly amongst themselves, the laughter becoming screeches as the wine flowed amongst them. It was entertaining to watch them and Hammond did so without attempting to be discreet in his surveillance.

At midnight, the barman wished them all loudly a happy Christmas and was invited to their table for a Christmas kiss from each woman. They stroked his bald head and covered it in lipstick kisses which he must have enjoyed because he went back a second time carrying another tray of drinks. The atmosphere within the restaurant bar was happy and manic. Hammond was tired, he wanted to leave and get to bed but he couldn’t face going home alone. He found himself thinking of Lyn and wondering if she were giving Cameron a Christmas kiss, then he wondered if Cameron was bald like the barman. For a second he was tempted to phone her but pressed Kathleen’s number instead and waited whilst it rang unanswered. He hang on for several rings before his courage failed him and he disconnected the call. When he looked up, the woman with the large breasts was standing next to him, she offered him a drink. He accepted.

Hammond awoke feeling sick. He made it to the bathroom just in time before his stomach emptied itself with force into the toilet. He groaned and wondered why he had been so stupid as to drink too much. He hadn’t felt this ill for a long time. He sprawled on the bathroom floor, not wanting to return to bed. He knew the woman would be there, she had probably woken from the noise of his retching. He didn’t want to face her again, and wished his clothes were nearer the bathroom so he could escape discreetly. He had been drunk but not so drunk that he had forgotten what they had done. She had been a demanding lover, urging him on by whispering filthy suggestions into his ear that to his surprise had overwhelmed him with desire. He heard her calling him back into the bedroom and decided he had no choice but to leave her in a non-chivalrous manner. He hobbled back into the bedroom, realising he looked ridiculous naked apart from his ankle in plaster and bandaged ribs. The woman had sat up in the bed, she made no effort to cover herself. Her breasts were heavy and full and for a split second he was tempted to return to their cushioned warmth but instead begun to dress himself without uttering a word. He left her shouting obscenities at his retreating back.

The taxi driver had offered to help Hammond up the steps to his front door but Hammond declined. The smell he carried on him was a potent mixture of alcohol, sex and vomit. He paid the driver a large tip and returned a happy Christmas wish before attempting each step one at a time, leaning on the concrete wall and dragging the crutches under his arm. As he opened the front door, he had an idea and managed to shout to the Taxi Driver who had left the engine running whilst talking on the radio. It took several minutes of persuasion but after the promise of a triple fare, the man agreed. With the help of a passing neighbour, the taxi driver loaded the treadmill into the car. With the back seats folded down, it stuck out the open boot which was secured with rope. Hammond handed the taxi driver Lyn’s address before scrawling a message onto a post-it note and stuck it onto the package; “
Dear Paul. Happy Christmas. Love Dad.”