Somebody Told Me (34 page)

A lump developed in my throat.

‘We can see the approach the defence will take. They’ll challenge the quality of the film. And the other two in the video are of course no longer with us. Is the video strong enough to persuade a jury beyond all reasonable doubt?’ Her eyebrows disappeared behind her fringe now.

‘And then we have Mr Bryant who provided Walsh with his alibi. The defence will challenge everything on the basis that the waiter was motivated by revenge as Bryant was sleeping with his girlfriend.’

I opened my mouth but realised that she had more to add.

‘And we have nothing but circumstantial evidence for Walsh killing Felix Bevard. Even if we arrested Mrs Bevard and Walsh’s triplet they would deny everything. It would mean no case and no hope of securing a conviction.’

I could see that the decision had already been made not to prosecute Walsh for killing Bevard and my heart sank. He might even be acquitted and then he’d be free. I felt sick at the thought.

‘We could at least arrest Mrs Bevard and Andrew Ackerman.’

‘I understand your strong views, Inspector. Especially bearing in mind what has happened with your parents. But they’d have anticipated an arrest and planned their reply.’

‘Even Mrs Bevard’s telephone calls?’

My doubt had sounded like a criticism. Neary paused.

‘A decision was made last night that we had to secure a conviction against Walsh.’

Relief washed over me and I found myself slipping back in my chair.

‘But we want to be certain that he goes down for life. And that he serves several life sentences. A decision was made last night to offer Martin Kendall a supergrass deal in exchange for evidence to convict James Walsh.’

I frowned, scarcely believing what she had told me.

‘Steps have been taken to begin the process.’

Kendall would walk
free
. The realisation started to poison my mind. My whole body tensed. He had terrorised my family. He was a murderer.

‘But he’s a killer.’ I must have sounded pathetic.

‘I know, John, and I know what he did to your family.’

Kendall’s image came to mind and I heard that Scottish accent ringing in my ears.

‘There really is no other way. We want Walsh behind bars for ever. It’s been a very difficult decision I can assure you. But we had to consider the public interest in securing a conviction against Walsh. And Kendall has no family. No ties.’

I looked down at the papers for a moment and then whispered. ‘Where will Kendall go?’

Neary paused. ‘We’ll never know. US maybe or Australia – somewhere where they speak English. He’ll be given a new identity and they’ll find him employment. The unit dealing with informants in these situations are very efficient.’

After a few seconds that felt like minutes Neary stood up. ‘None of us are happy with this situation but it is for the best. I suggest you keep this between you and your sergeant for now.’

I got to my feet and she reached out a hand and firmly shook mine.

After she left I fell back into my chair trying to unscramble my emotions.

Lydia appeared at my door. ‘What was that all about, boss?’

My anger with Assistant Chief Constable Neary was short lived when I savoured the prospect of interviewing Jimmy Walsh and watching his blood run cold as he realised he was going down for multiple life sentences. I had spent the afternoon after my conversation with her walking along the barrage in Cardiff Bay. The wind had whipped around my face but I had ploughed on hoping I could see the decision had been correct.

The next three days passed in a blur of activity.

There were meetings with Dave Hobbs and emails with complex memoranda from the Crown Prosecution lawyers. They used the words ‘public interest’ a lot and everyone seemed to be contemplating criticisms from the trial judge. Hobbs even suggested someone would have a quiet word with the Crown court administration staff to ensure the trial judge would be sympathetic to the supergrass deal with Martin Kendall. I expected operational reasons to be cited as a reason to move the trial to a Crown court away from Cardiff and the prying eyes of the press.

I had the team scouring the CCTV for any image of the silver car driving to Forge Side. And coordinating the house-to-house took two full days for Wyn and Jane. I spent one afternoon in Cardiff Gate services asking all the staff if they recognised the Range Rover. It was a thankless task. The appeal for witnesses produced the usual crank calls and hoaxes that Lydia dealt with. It gave me time to prepare for the arrest of Jimmy Walsh. A dedicated source unit headed by a detective chief inspector from Western Division in Swansea had the dubious distinction of interviewing Martin Kendall. It would have made me sick to hear his confession to murdering Brian Yelland and admitting his part in the killing of Oakley.

I had to appear uncooperative when Uncle Gino and Jez wanted to meet once they knew Papa had decided to sell. They complained like mad, presumably because they had told Goldstar Properties that the sale could go ahead and that meant Walsh and his family felt they had another victory.

A cryptic email from Hobbs on a Monday afternoon told me that that evening ‘
matters would be concluded
’. So later I parked a discreet distance away from Walsh’s home. The detached house in Cyncoed was lit up like a Christmas tree and I recognised his daughter and son-in-law arrive in their 4x4. They could pass as respectable upstanding members of the community. They had no idea what had been happening in the interview suites of HMP Cardiff.

I cowered to one side when I saw Walsh and his family drive away. After a few seconds, I followed them into the middle of town. They parked outside one of the expensive restaurants and walked in. Obviously, something to celebrate; after all, they thought they had a new development in Pontypridd that would make them a pile of cash.

Did Walsh ever think about Kendall?

I smiled to myself as I imagined the look on Walsh’s face when I’d tell him about Kendall’s evidence.

*     *     *

It was after eight that evening when I returned to my flat. I had barely seen Tracy in the past week and she had returned from a long weekend with her parents. She kept her coat on and avoided my attempt to kiss her. She sat on a sofa and put her set of keys on the coffee table.

‘I’ve been thinking a lot recently, John. About us, I mean.’ I sensed Tracy had more to tell me. ‘Things happened so quickly at the start. I mean, not that I regret it. But we didn’t have time to get to know each other. And with Mum and Dad living away and not in good health …’

I could see where this conversation was leading. Years ago it would have been the sort of conversation where a beer would have been welcome.

‘I can’t see how things will work out. Do you?’ She looked up and stared deep into my eyes.

I averted my gaze; she must have realised from my reticence that I didn’t know the answer. Our relationship had been on cruise control for the past few months and a part of me was relieved she felt the same way.

‘I had an interview today for an investigators role with the Hampshire force.’

‘I want to be nearer Mum and Dad. They’re getting on and we aren’t. So I think it’s for the best.’

She brushed away a tear and she left soon afterwards.

The following morning I had the team ready early.

Hobbs joined us in the Incident Room and stood to one side of the board.

‘We’re going to arrest Jimmy Walsh this morning,’ I said.

There were quizzical troubled looks.

‘Martin Kendall is going to give evidence against Jimmy Walsh in exchange for immunity from prosecution.’

Jane gasped, and Wyn stood rigid to the spot, his body tense.

‘Detective Sergeant Flint and Detective Constable Thorne will arrest Mrs Gloria Bevard and Detective Constable Wyn Nuttall will accompany me to arrest Jimmy Walsh. A team from Hampshire constabulary is going to arrest Andrew Ackerman. We’ll get him transferred here later.’

‘But that means Kendall gets away with the murder of Yelland,’ Jane said.

Hobbs cleared his throat. ‘A decision was made in the public interest that we had to secure a conviction of Jimmy Walsh.’

‘But Kendall’s evidence is tainted,’ Wyn said, voicing the obvious. ‘He’ll say anything to get off a murder charge.’

Hobbs again. ‘It’s the excellent work you’ve all done to build a picture of what really happened that has made this all happen.’

‘What do we say to Sharon Yelland?’ Jane said.

I glanced at Hobbs. The impact on her had probably been ignored ‘in the public interest’. Images of her and her children came to mind. At least she knew who had killed her husband. Would that be a comfort? ‘I’ll see her,’ I said.

It wasn’t an answer. I could have added –
And I hope she’ll understand
but I didn’t think she would. I had trouble with Martin Kendall leading a new life in some warm country.

‘We considered her position very carefully,’ Hobbs added, but he didn’t convince anyone. ‘The public interest can often be unsatisfactory.’

It was management speak I hoped I’d never get accustomed to.

*     *     *

I parked on Lake Road East and walked down to the entrance of Roath Park. The air was still; decaying leaves from the sycamores littered the pavement edge. Autumn colours of russet and gold made the park look warm and welcoming. On the tarmacked paths I spotted walkers with dogs and mothers with prams and the occasional jogger. My mobile vibrated in my fleece pocket and I fished it out to answer Lydia’s call.

‘We should be arriving at Gloria Bevard’s place in the next ten minutes.’

‘Thanks. Text me when you’re outside.’

I counted half a dozen enthusiastic couples out on the lake in rowing boats. We passed the Scott monument and I read the time. Almost eleven. A young mother shouted after a child on a bike and I wondered if any of the visitors that morning knew that a grisly murder had taken place in the café. And that the man responsible was inside drinking coffee, exchanging a joke with Bernie, planning for his eventual acquittal.

A faint smell of stale fat drifted from the café as we neared it. I told Wyn to stand and wait by the entrance. I spotted Walsh sitting by the window with Bernie. He chewed a mouthful of cake while Bernie sipped on a drink. No fancy cakes where he was going. Losing weight might do him some good. Lydia’s text reached my mobile

I pushed open the door and strode towards him.

He glanced up and did a double take. Then he frowned and looked over at me puzzled.

I sat down at his table.

‘This is police harassment,’ Walsh said.

Bernie looked at me as though she wanted to stab me.

‘Somebody told me you liked Roath Park,’ I smiled.

He said nothing.

‘Get lost. Leave us in peace,’ Bernie said.

‘It’s the changing seasons I like.’

‘What the fuck do you want?’ Walsh hissed.

‘And being able to walk in the park whenever I want and see my family and know they won’t be stalked in the future.’

Another frown. ‘It’s a good deal; you and your family are getting a good price.’

‘And somebody told me you know the storeroom in this café very well.’

‘I’m going to call my solicitor.’

You’re going to need his help right enough.

‘Of course you can. And you won’t even have to pay for the call.’

Walsh threw the pastry fork onto the plate.

‘Somebody told me you killed Felix Bevard. And that same person told me you killed Robin Oakley.’

‘You can’t be serious.’

I noticed movement by the front door and saw Wyn standing with two uniformed officers. I turned to Walsh and said the words I had given up believing anyone would say.

‘James Walsh, I’m arresting you for murder. You don’t have to say ….’

Sharon Yelland returned from the kitchen with a tray of biscuits and mugs of tea.

‘I’ve got some news,’ I said as she handed me a drink.

‘I thought there was a reason for the visit.’

She sat down on one of the sofas in the sitting room. Despite everything that had happened she had managed to make the house into a home. There were pictures of the children on the mantel and magazines on the coffee table, which suggested that she had moved on with her life. I spotted some holiday brochures near the television.

‘A man has admitted to killing Brian.’

I looked over at her but there was little emotion. ‘I see.’

‘He was linked to a Jimmy Walsh who was on a billet in Grange Hall where Brian worked.’

She kept looking at me between small mouthfuls of tea.

‘However, it’s not as simple as it first appears. This man was able to provide us with detailed evidence of Walsh being involved in several murders.’

She raised an eyebrow and now there was sadness in her eyes.

‘It was decided that he would be offered a deal – it’s called a supergrass deal – so that we could prosecute Jimmy Walsh.’

‘What will happen to him?’

‘Walsh will most likely face the rest of his days in jail.’

‘No, I meant the other man – the one who killed Brian.’

I gathered my thoughts about the best way to tell her. ‘He’ll be taken into witness protection. He’ll be given a new identity and a new life.’

‘And his family?’

‘He doesn’t have any.’

‘That was convenient.’ She started on a digestive biscuit.

‘It wasn’t my decision and I know how you must feel about Brian’s killer getting away without punishment.’

I wasn’t certain how she might react and I felt better having shared with her my misgivings that Kendall was offered a deal.

‘I can’t get Brian back and even if I could I don’t know that I would. He had chosen a life that I didn’t want to share and he hadn’t listened to me for a long time.’

‘What will you tell the children?’

‘That they should miss their father and that he wanted to be a good man but …’

‘Sometimes things never work out as you hope.’

Another half an hour passed as we talked and she told me about her hopes for the future. She never sounded aggrieved, accepting that having Walsh behind bars for the rest of his life was reward enough.