Separated at Death (The Lakeland Murders) (27 page)

He noticed that his dad had been in, probably dropping something off for him, but otherwise nothing caught his eye.

Then Jane’s email arrived. The company details told him nothing, because no accounts had been filed and the directors were names he didn’t recognise. But she did have Carl Nelson’s address, or at least the one that he’d given the GMP copper who’d taken his statement.  She’d even had a quick look to see if he had a record, but nothing had shown up. Mann was getting bored, so he punched the address into the sat-nav and set off for Nelson’s place. It was only a couple of miles, according to the computer.

Mann was surprised that such a wealthy area could be so close to such a poor one, and he stopped at a parade of upmarket shops near Nelson’s house. One was a faux-Victorian deli and greengrocer, so he bought some fruit and a handmade pork pie that looked like a five year old had made it, but which tasted like God had. So Mann was in a better mood by the time he parked up just across from the address he’d been given.

The house was big, modern, and looked empty. Mann walked over and rang the door-bell but no-one came. He walked round to the side of the house, but the gate was locked and too high for him to climb over easily. And while the wrought iron spikes on top looked decorative they also looked sharp.

He walked back to the car, checked his email again, and decided to drive back to Kendal. He could mess about here all day. But, on impulse, he decided to just have one more look at that industrial estate. It would only take a couple of minutes.

He drove past, and the place was still deserted. He was just about to turn the car round again and head for home when he noticed a Porsche Cayenne approaching, with at least two-up inside. The Trotter’s Reliant would have looked more at home on that empty road, so Mann pulled to the side of the road and watched in his mirror.

Sure enough the Cayenne stopped outside Summersdown’s gates, and a big man got out of the passenger seat. He unlocked them, the car drove through and stopped while he locked them again. The car drove out of sight. Mann turned the car round and drove past. The Porsche wasn’t visible, and he guessed that the office was round at the back somewhere.

He parked, checked his email, then called Summersdown’s number again. Still no reply. So he called the station, told the operator where he was, and asked her to let the GMP know too.

‘Do you require assistance?’

‘Not at present. But if they’d like to send a patrol car to the address in fifteen minutes that would be appreciated. I’ll meet them outside.’

‘Understood.’

Mann regretted wearing his suit when he looked at the gate, but he climbed over without any trouble. He didn’t know if it was his soldier’s instinct or his copper’s training that made him cautious, but he walked quietly round the big building in front, looking at the doors and windows. As far as he could tell Summersdown consisted of a large workshop building, with locked double doors to the side, and a small linked office building at the rear. The Cayenne was parked outside.

Mann walked back to the workshop doors and looked at the padlock. It didn’t look as if it had been opened in years. He pulled his multi-tool from his pocket, pushed the spike into the lock, felt for the spot, and pushed hard. The lock opened. He opened the door slowly, and looked inside. The space was massive, empty and surprisingly bright: the window lights in the roof saw to that. At the far end Mann could just make out a door into what he assumed was the office area. He closed the door behind him and walked, with the outside wall on his left, to the door. He tried it, and it was open. So he retraced his steps, and left the padlock unlocked when he left the workshop.

Then he walked round the outside to the office building, and knocked hard on the door beyond the Cayenne. No-one came, so he banged again. Then he heard footsteps, the door was unlocked and opened slightly. It was the big man.

‘Fuck off.’

‘Police’

‘So fuck off unless you’ve got a warrant to show me. No?’

Mann had his foot in the door before the door was closed. He was glad that the only shoes he owned had steel toe caps. But rather than try to close the door, as Mann expected, the big man pushed it wide open and charged into Mann, head down and swinging.

Mann went down hard, the big man on top of him for second, reaching for his face. He was heavy, but lardy, and Mann pushed him off, rolled away and was up first. ‘You’re not very friendly, are you?’ said Mann, as the big man got up. He looked winded.

‘What do you want?’

‘A word with Mr Nelson, that’s all.’

‘He’s not here. Now fuck off.’

‘I saw you arrive with him’ said Mann, guessing that the driver had been Nelson.

The big man seemed to have caught his breath, because he swung hard at Mann. That was a mistake, because Mann had moved a step forward long before he’d finished winding up and hit the big man twice, hard, a short right to the gut and a left on the point of the chin. The big man’s feet left the ground for a second, and then he was down.

‘Very impressive’ said a voice from inside, ‘where did you learn that?’

‘Lympstone mainly’ said Mann, flexing the fingers in his left hand. The big man tried to get up, then fell back.  ‘Now if you can get Giant Haystacks here to behave I won’t have to nick him.’

‘And if you behave I won’t have to report all this to the local coppers. I assume you’re not local?’

‘No, from Cumbria.’ Mann produced his warrant card.

‘Sheep-shagger, eh? What are you doing down in the big city?’

‘You’re Carl Nelson? If so I came to see you.’

The big man was up on his hands and knees, and was loudly sick.

‘He might be concussed’ said Mann. ‘You might want to take him to casualty.’

‘Nah, you can only get concussed if you’ve got a brain, and Des doesn’t. Anyway, what is it you want? I’ll help if I can.’

‘It’s about Simon Hamilton. Can I come in to the office?’

‘No. What about Simon Hamilton?’

‘You gave one of my colleagues a statement that he was with you last Wednesday.’

‘That’s right. He turned up at about four, and left about six thirty.’

‘And that meeting was here I take it?’

‘Yes.’

‘And what did you talk about?’

‘That’s my business.’

‘And what is your business, Mr Nelson?’

‘All totally legit, I assure you.’

The big man had got to his feet and was leaning against the wall, breathing heavily.

‘Look’ said Mann. ‘Since your colleague here likes to be so direct I’ll be the same. Your meeting with Simon Hamilton means that you know him, and since we’re very interested in him, and since you’re not giving me any answers that I find satisfactory, now you’re of interest to us too.’

Nelson did not look intimidated.

‘What you going to do then? Send a sheepdog after me?’

‘You’re right of course, we’re short of cash and resources, but not so short that we can’t keep our noses in your business, and get every other agency interested in you too, whether it’s HMRC or the Customs, or even the DVLA.’

Nelson didn’t have time to reply, because the big man stepped forward and kicked out hard at Mann. Mann grabbed his leg and flipped him over, so this time he went down face first.

‘Give over’ shouted Nelson. ‘You’re just embarrassing yourself now.’

‘You might want to get yourself a better guard-dog’ said Mann. ‘But before I leave you two love birds to it I’ll ask you once more Mr Nelson, what is the precise nature of your relationship with Mr Hamilton?’

‘Fuck off’ said Nelson, ‘and if you come back make sure you have a warrant, and a few dozen coppers.’

‘To deal with you two? That’s a laugh. You’re about as frightening as drizzle. I’ll tell you what I think Mr Nelson. I think you’re playing at being a big bad gangster and one day, quite soon, a real one is going to turn up and he’s going to feed you to the pigs. You mark my words.’

Mann turned and started to walk slowly away. He could see the two men reflected in the side window of the Porsche, and he watched as Nelson closed the door, leaving his minder unconscious on the ground outside.

On his way back to the front gates Mann clicked the padlock on the warehouse doors locked, and was just climbing back over the gates when the patrol car rolled up.

‘Everything all right?’ asked the driver, not getting out of the car.

‘Fine thanks, but you might want to call an ambulance.’

‘We can drive you round to casualty.’

‘It’s not for me, for a bloke in there. Last I saw of him he was spark out round the back.’

‘Fall down the stairs did he?’ asked the copper.

‘Something like that’ said Mann, tasting a little bit of blood in his mouth.

Andy Hall noticed that Jane Francis had dressed smartly that morning, and he was wearing his best suit. One of the kids had even said how sharp he looked as he’d left the house.

‘We’ve got Simon coming in again this morning’ he said, ‘in fact he should be here now. Let’s hear how he handles the fact that his car was seen, before we talk to his wife.’

‘Why boss? Wouldn’t we be best talking to her first?’

‘No, because I want you to lead, and at some point you’re going to have to tell her exactly what we’ve got on the slippery bastard. But you’re right, we want it to come as a surprise to her, so we’ll get off over there as soon as we’ve finished with him. We’ll let someone else do his statement and take their time about it. That way he won’t be able to come up with some story for her before you talk to her.’

‘But did his wife not come in with him? She has done before.’

‘Really?’ said Hall. That was interesting. He called the front desk and checked. ‘No, just Hamilton and that lawyer Jenkins today.’

‘I wonder if that’s significant?’

‘She might be feeling less supportive now you mean? Let’s hope so.’

As they walked down to the interview room Jane asked Hall how he thought Hamilton would play it when they confronted him with the evidence about the car. ‘If it were me I’d just flat-out deny it, because we’ll have to disclose that we’ve only got a similar car with the same model bike rack as his. That’s not absolutely definitive, and he’s in too far to try to change his story again. Anyway, let’s see what he comes up with this time.’

As they sat down Hall thought that Simon Hamilton looked a bit less confident this time. ‘Thanks for coming in again Mr Hamilton’ he said. ‘Tell you why we asked you to pop in. In your most recent statement you clearly stated that you didn’t stop anywhere in Kendal last Wednesday night.’

‘That’s right. Other than for traffic lights I didn’t stop.’

‘And you are absolutely, 100% sure of that are you?’

‘Inspector, my client has been very clear on this point already.’

‘He has, hasn’t he?’ agreed Hall pleasantly. He took a photograph out of the folder in front of him, and slid it slowly across the table to Hamilton. ‘Then how do you explain the fact that this car was seen parked and empty on Queen’s Road at around nine pm last Wednesday evening, and was gone by around nine-thirty?’

For the first time Hamilton looked rattled, and before he could say anything Jenkins jumped in. ‘I’d like to consult with my client Inspector.’

‘And I’d like an answer please Mr Hamilton. Was your car parked on Queen’s Road last Wednesday evening? It’s a very simple question.’

Again Jenkins cut in, and Hall could hear an edge to his voice.

‘Do you have the registration number of the vehicle that was seen? Do you have an identification of Mr Hamilton as the driver?’

‘We’re very confident that it was the same vehicle’ said Hall, looking straight at Hamilton.

‘I must insist on a few moments alone with my client, and until then I must insist that he only gives no comment responses.’

‘And what do you say to that, Mr Hamilton?’

‘No comment.’

Hall sat back. ‘You’re very wise to take your lawyer’s excellent advice Mr Hamilton, and we’ll be happy to give you a few minutes together. And we’ll really look forward to hearing what you have to say. But you really are between a rock and a hard place you know, because you’re either about to deny the evidence of a very credible eye witness, or you’re going to have to change your story yet again.’ Hall smiled. ‘Still, I’ll leave that to the two of you to discuss.’

Ten minutes later they were back in the interview room. It was obvious that Jenkins intended to do the talking. ‘My client did not stop on Queen’s Road that night. Your witness must have been mistaken in his or her identification of Mr Hamilton’s car. There must be thousands of similar models on our roads.’