An Unfamiliar Murder Read online

  “Sorry I’m late, but you know what Judge Tallins is like.”

  She nodded back at him and watched as he sat himself down opposite her.

  “Would you like me to give you a brief overview of the case?” she asked.

  His rubbed his chin briefly, eyes searching across her desk. “Err.. No, thank you. I think I’ll start with your policy log and we’ll see where we go from there.”

  Helen could feel her hackles rising. He wasn’t going to make this easy. Although outwardly he appeared calm and collected, inwardly she could see that he couldn’t wait to get his teeth stuck in. It was no secret that he played golf with the Super, the Chief Constable, and many other influential people in Hamptonshire including the Mayor. And he was craftily astute, seeking out big, high profile cases that caught the public eye. Celebrity Cop. There could be no doubt that, with Central Government wanting to introduce the election of Police Commissioners, this was his ultimate aim. And he didn’t care who got in his way. He was gunning for her blood. Well, she wasn’t going to bring herself down to his level.

  “As you wish,” she said, lifting it from her desk and passing it across to him.

  “Thank you,” he replied, placing it on the edge of the desk before leaning down to unpack his briefcase.

  Oh no you don’t. “I’ve arranged for you to have your own office down the corridor,” she said. “You won’t be disturbed there.”

  “Ahh.” She watched him suppress surprise. He was also an excellent actor.

  You didn’t think I was going to let you loose in here? “Why don’t you follow me and we’ll get you settled?”

  “Of course.” He shoved a notebook back into his briefcase, picked up her policy log and followed her out of her office, back through the incident room and along the corridor.

  Helen opened the door to the old, windowless store cupboard and switched on the light. It had been used on a number of occasions as an overflow office when they were particularly busy in the incident room, or they had a review team in. It felt cold today and very bare. Apart from a few lonely boxes stored in the corner, it housed a desk and a couple of chairs, one either side. There wasn’t much room for anything else.

  “There you go,” Helen said, opening her arm to escort him in, as if he were getting the Super’s office.

  “Right.” If he was cross or felt marginalized, he was careful not to show it. But Helen had seen him in practice before, and underneath the blank expression, there was a knowing acknowledgement. The parameters had been set.

  “I should know what your current priorities are?” he asked, turning to face her.

  “We are looking into a potential suspect,” Helen replied, deliberately playing it down. “It’s all in the log. Give me a shout if you need clarification on anything.”

  “Will do, thank you.”

  As she nodded and turned to go, a thought suddenly gripped her. “Coffee, George?”

  “That would be great,” he replied, and this time there was an air of surprise to his voice.

  “The machine is just next door. Do help yourself.” And with that she marched back down the corridor.

  * * *

  “What is he doing here?” Dark whispered loudly, jerking her head in the direction of the corridor as they begun the afternoon round up. George Sawford’s presence in the former store cupboard had not gone unnoticed.

  “The Super feels that we might benefit from some expertise on the investigation,” Helen replied, keeping her face completely expressionless.

  “More like putting us on trial.” Helen was surprised by Pemberton’s remark. He was usually always one to toe the line. General mumblings spread around the room.

  “Whatever we think,” Helen continued, as the noises gradually hushed, “we are stuck with him. So, let’s make the best of it.”

  “Is he joining us for briefing?” Helen was surprised to see Townsend at the back, speaking up for a change.

  “He’s just appraising himself with the investigation so far. I’m sure he’ll join us when he’s ready. Now what do we have?”

  “He’s a hemophiliac.” Helen stared at DC Spencer, along with the rest of her team. He had traveled over an hour, earlier that day, to interview Mrs. Edwards and was feeding his findings back to the team.

  “His mother says it has blighted his life. He hated being different from the other kids, having to avoid confrontation, in case it went too far. Didn’t have many friends, she puts it down to him moving schools twice due to bullying. He always wanted to join the Army, but failed the medical.” He paused to look down at his notes. “He was an only child, she brought him up by herself and wouldn’t be drawn on his father – said they haven’t seen him for years. She still calls him by his real name, Kevin, although these days he prefers to be known as ‘Kane’. Apparently, he re-named himself after the fictional Kung Fu character.”

  “Wasn’t that spelt C-a-i-n-e?” Pemberton interjected. Everybody laughed. “It was one of my favorite shows as kid,” he admitted.

  “Well he wasn’t the brightest button at school by all accounts. Anyway, he discovered bodybuilding when he reached his late teens and his mother reckoned he almost doubled in size. Did a variety of jobs before he joined the prison service: car valet; taxi driver; worked in the Army surplus store, Bouncer.”

  “Bouncer!” exclaimed Dark, “Great job for a hemophiliac!” Everyone laughed.

  “She seemed proud of him, keen to talk,” Spencer continued, “really pleased that he had joined the prison service. Last saw him two months ago and he seemed happy. He phoned her last Sunday, was talking about settling down, said he had met someone. Was going to bring her over to meet her. She was ecstatic about this. It’s the first time he’s ever mentioned a girlfriend. Apparently, he’s very private about that part of his life. Needless to say, she doesn’t appear to know anything about the suspension or the drugs charge.”

  “Why did she think you were asking about him?” Helen asked.

  “I just said there had been an incident in the prison and we were investigating. I didn’t mention it had anything to do with him.”

  “Good work. We don’t want her warning him that we’re getting close.”

  “Oh, she wasn’t surprised. She said he had alerted her that the police may get in contact. He fed her some dross about working under cover in the prison on a confidential case.”

  “She’ll get a shock when this comes out,” Dark said, shaking her head.

  “Right,” Helen interjected, keen to move on. “Thanks Steve. Anything from Intelligence?”

  Pemberton shook his head. “We’ve circulated his image. Spoken to Area CID, Drugs Squad. Nothing at the moment. But they’re on the look out.”

  Helen sighed. “OK. What else have we got?”

  Dark raised her hand. “I spoke to the Prison Governor at Lardell.”

  “And?”

  “Governor Wheelen remembered Edwards well. Apparently, his personal file makes for very interesting reading.”

  “Good,” Helen said. “Details?”

  Dark stood up. “His first post was A Wing,” she said, consulting her notes. “Initially, they were very pleased with his progress. He seemed to build a rapport with the prisoners, easily diffuse situations, that sort of thing. But then a number of incidents gave rise to rumors that his relationship with some prisoners,” she hesitated, looking for the right words, “lacked a certain professionalism, should we say?”

  “Like?”

  “The other guard that partnered him on A wing expressed concern that Kane was becoming lax in enforcing prison policy, extending privileges for some inmates like association time out of the cell, letting them spend time in the library on their own, that sort of thing.” She extended her arm in an animated fashion.

  “Then one day he walked into a cell, surprised to see Kane deep in conversation with a prisoner. They stopped talking as soon as they saw him, but he overheard part of the conversation which was enough to make him suspect that
Kane might be passing messages, on behalf of the prisoner, to associates on the outside.” She paused for a moment, as she turned the page, “The problem was that they lacked evidence. He only overheard a few odd words. So, after six months, the Governor decided to move Kane to another wing under the pretence of a developmental move.”

  Helen nodded. “What happened then?”

  Dark ran her eyes back over her notes. “He moved to D Wing, where Rab was held, and he was a model officer for a while. It was several months before the other guard on D wing put in reports of Kane showing over-familiarity with certain prominent prisoners, one in particular from an organized crime background, a leading figure in drugs supply.

  “Someone who would be still running their operation from the inside, and looking to manipulate anyone who could make that happen,” Helen said. The role of a prison officer is notoriously low paid, a fact that did not escape inmates who were always on the look out for those who may be prone to corruption. “So, do we have a name?”

  Dark nodded. “Carl Peacock was the key figure, based in Birmingham, doing twelve years for conspiracy to supply cocaine.”

  “I remember that one breaking,” Pemberton interjected. “It was a huge haul at the time and a lengthy trial if my memory serves me right. He was a tricky customer with links all over the country.”

  “Get me everything you can on him. And speak to the Drugs Squad. See what they can give you on any links with our Area,” Helen said.

  “No problem.”

  “OK, Rosa, please continue.”

  “His association with Peacock and his friends reinforced their suspicion. Also, prison intelligence indicated that drugs were being brought onto the wing.” She rubbed the back of her neck, turned the page again.

  “Then, one day, after a routine search of the wing, the other officer doubled back, did another search of some of the cells. He found two sim cards in Peacock’s and three wrappers of cocaine in another that Kane had missed.”

  “So, he was befriending particular inmates, those who could extend privileges to him on the outside?” Helen said.

  Dark nodded. “Lardell is a Cat B prison - worst kind for manipulation. Wheelen suspected that Edwards had been bringing in drugs and sim cards for some time, it was just a matter of catching him in the act. But even this wasn’t enough to dismiss him. He seemed relieved when they actually found a legitimate reason to get rid of him.”

  “How did they catch him?” Helen asked.

  “They have routine checks in and out, and then do spot checks on their cars regularly. It’s all a bit honored in the breach though, often there’s a leak and they all seem to know when and where the spot checks will be. Well, this time they kept it quiet. Edwards was found with 1/2oz in his locker in four wrappers, along with three sim cards. But in his car they found another 1/2 oz distributed amongst another four wrappers and twenty sim cards. He was cute though, he used ‘

  Quality Street’ sweet papers for wrappers. Actually the Governor was a bit disappointed. There were pretty convinced that he was supplying the harder stuff, heroin and cocaine, but didn’t find anything near him that day.” Helen nodded. Since the relaxation in the cannabis laws, that quantity of the drug could be explained away for personal use. However, folding it into multiple separate wrappers was a strong indication of possession with intent to supply. “How was he receiving payment?” she asked.

  “They found a notebook in his car, with many of the inmates’ girlfriends, siblings, friends, contacts details. When they raided these inmates’ cells they found mobile phones, drugs wrapped in the same colored papers.”

  Helen furrowed her brow. “How could Kane’s charges not have come to light earlier?”

  Pemberton cut in, “Lardell prison is one of the modern, privately owned ones. The Governor was away on holiday when we made our initial enquiries and they were very cagey with their information. It took all of my powers of persuasion to get Rab’s personal records. And if he didn’t give direct evidence and wasn’t named on Kane’s case, then they might have felt that it wasn’t relevant.”

  “Fair enough. Might be worth getting the names of all of his associates in D Wing and running them through the normal checks? I guess Peacock was probably in charge, but it’s possible some of the other prisoners may also have links to Hamptonshire.”

  She thought for a moment, then summarized, “So we have a man who struggled to make friends, no girlfriends either that we know of until recently, supplying drugs and sim cards to prisoners in return for payment and favors through their contacts on the outside? Free entrance to clubs, I’m assuming, women, the lot.”

  “He finally got the popularity he must have craved for years,” Spencer said.

  “Then someone shops him and bursts his bubble. He doesn’t only lose his job, but more importantly the lifestyle,” Pemberton said.

  “Well we’ve put his face out there,” Helen said. “Surely someone will know him, come forward? An address is all we need.” She looked at her watch. “Tomorrow is Saturday. The papers will be out in the morning. Are we all set up to man the phones?” Heads nodded back at her.

  “OK everyone. Let’s hope that we get a bit of luck.” As she turned to go a phone rang in the distance, a normal everyday occurrence in the incident room, but for some reason it turned her head.

  The mumbles and movements of everybody moving back to work suddenly stopped too.

  “Yes. Yes. Great. I’ll pass that on. Thank you.” DC Spencer put the receiver down and looked up curiously.

  “What is it, Steve?”

  “The tattooed skin that was sent to Anna Cottrell? That was forensics. They’ve found a short, grey/black hair attached to the back.”

  “Oh?”

  “It’s not human. It belongs to a dog – probably a German Shepherd.”

  * * *

  An hour later, Helen wandered down to the little office, surprised to see the door closed firmly and even more surprised when she opened it to find the room dark. George Sawford had obviously gone home for the evening. She switched on the light and glanced at the desk which was completely empty. Her policy log had gone with him.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  The gentle hum of her phone woke Anna early. It was still dark outside. She stuck an arm out from underneath the duvet and dragged it off the bedside table to her ear.

  “Anna?”

  She didn’t recognize the gravelly voice. “Yes.”

  “I wonder if you can help me?”

  She peeled her eyes apart and looked at the screen, it was number withheld. “Who is this?” Sleep filled her voice.

  “I’m a friend of a friend. I have some news about Ross.”

  She jolted up to sitting position. “Who is this?” she repeated.

  “I can’t discuss this on the phone.”

  Her scalp pricked, goose bumps tumbling down her neck, through her shoulders, spreading into her back. “Is he alive?” she breathed.

  “Yes.”

  Her whole body tensed. “I’ll get the police, they are here, they can help . . .”

  “No!” he interrupted urgently. “No, Anna. No police.”

  Anna sat in silence for a moment. No police. A wave of nausea flew over her. This man clearly had some connection to Ross’ disappearance. “What do you want with Ross?”

  “Look, I’m doing a favor for a friend. They need some assistance. If you help me, then I’ll help you. How does that sound?”

  She sat in silence again, unsure of what to say. “What do I have to do?”

  “I can’t discuss it on the phone. Can you meet me, on your own?”

  Anna froze. “Why?”

  “So we can discuss it further?”

  “How do I know that you won’t kidnap me?”

  “Come on, Anna. Nobody is kidnapping anyone. I won’t hurt you, I promise. I’m just passing on a message.” He kept repeating her name over and over again, like somebody vying for her undivided attention. Well he had got it.

/>   “And if I help you, I get Ross back?”

  “Yes.”

  “Alive?”

  “Yes.”

  Anna turned this over in her mind for a moment. “Prove to me that he is still alive.”

  The line went dead. Anna could feel panic making the hairs stand up on the back of her neck. Had she gone too far? Was he telling her the truth? What if this was the one opportunity she would have, the one chance to save Ross and she had messed it up?

  She was just about to speak when she heard another voice at the end of the phone.

  “Anna.” It was barely a whisper.

  “Ross!”

  The gravelly voice returned. “Convinced?”

  Her heart sank deep down into her chest. “What have you done to him?” she asked.

  “He’s fine. Now are we going to meet up?”

  “Please don’t hurt him.”

  He ignored her response. “Do you know

  Bracken Way?” Bracken Way was a disused railway line that run right through Hampton. It was often used by dog walkers, families and cyclists over the summer months. “Yes,” she replied faintly. It was very secluded at this time of year. The perfect place for a murder.

  “If you join it at the Keys Trading Estate entrance, walk up about half a mile, you’ll see a bench in memorial to an Alan Thomas, who died in 1998. It’s about twenty yards before the tunnel entrance . . . I’ll meet you there at three o’clock.”

  Anna shuddered. She remembered cycling through the tunnels with Ross in summertime, perfectly dark apart from the odd glint of light through the old ventilation shafts. It had been a surreal experience. She thought for a moment, feeling brow beaten into submission. It was as if her strength were seeping out through the pores of her skin. Well if she couldn’t save herself, she would try to help Ross. She owed him that much. “OK.”

  “You must be on your own. The people I work for are very wary. If there is any inkling that you have informed the police, or brought somebody with you, then you will never see Ross again.”

  “How do I know that you’ll do what you say?” she asked, edgily.