Secret of the Dead (36 page)

“What about a red Mercedes Benz on German plates?” He knew the first bit and guessed the second. “I am right in thinking that around that time you were importing cars from Germany, Mercedes and BMWs?”

“No secret. They were cheaper from there. You didn’t have to pay VAT on them. I wasn’t doing anything illegal.”

“I’m not accusing you of anything. I’m just trying to help you recall if you owned a red Mercedes saloon on the night of Lucy’s disappearance.”

“Can’t remember. Might have done. I’ve owned one in the past.”

“What if I help you out further by telling you that we have checked your records at the DVLA and they show that in ninety-eighty-three you owned a red Mercedes-Benz 380SL on German plates, which you re-registered in October of that year.”

Before Peter Blake-Hall had time to reply his solicitor intervened with, “Detective Sergeant, what is the relevance to this line of questioning?”

Although Hunter was replying to the solicitor, he looked squarely into the eyes of Peter Blake-Hall, “The relevance is that this statement here,” Hunter began shaking Lisa’s witness statement, “Puts your client in Barnwell market place at around ten-forty-five pm, on Friday twenty-sixth August, nineteen-eighty-three, firstly he was seen driving his red Mercedes, and then seen dragging his wife, Lucy, into the front passenger seat, before driving away. Unlike his own original statement, which states nothing of the sort. According to this statement, your client, Mr Wilkinson, is the last person to have seen Lucy and in my book, that puts him clearly in the frame as a suspect.” Hunter watched Peter Blake-Hall’s face turn ashen. He was waiting for him to respond when the solicitor laid a hand on one of his tightly folded arms.

“In the light of this recent evidence, I would like to confer with my client.”

They’d had no option but to bring the interview to an end. Hunter grinned at Peter Blake-Hall as they formally wrapped up the session. As he and Grace left the room, they knew they had their prisoner rattled. They also knew that upon their return there was the likelihood of him  saying ‘no comment’ to any future questions. That proved to be the case twenty minutes later when they entered into a second bout of questioning.

Peter Blake-Hall sat back in his chair, arms again folded, displaying an air of arrogance, while Hunter read through the statement Amanda Rawlinson had given them. He deliberately broke off at the end of every paragraph, to check back with a question. Especially, he halted the readings when he came to the part where Amanda stated that Lucy had been assaulted by him. Each time Peter issued back ‘no comment.’ Thirty five minutes into the second interview, Hunter called it a day and handed Peter Blake-Hall over to the Custody sergeant to be put back in his cell.

Hunter left the custody suite with a disappointed frown creasing his face. He left Grace at the ground floor ladies toilets, and trudged his way up the stairs with a head full of dark thoughts. He shouldered the doors, almost falling into the room.

Detective Superintendent Dawn Leggate, sitting at his desk, took him by surprise.

“Oh, hello boss, I wasn’t expecting to see you.”

“I’ve just called the custody suite and they said you were on your way up here. How did it go?”

Hunter dropped down into Grace’s chair opposite and outlined the interview he and Grace had just concluded with Blake-Hall.

When he finished, she said, “Bollocks.”

It drew a smile from Hunter. “Couldn’t have put it any finer boss. Anyway, how’s it gone at his place?”

“Absolutely zilch. The house is spotless. And I’m sure he wasn’t involved in Mike’s stabbing. He was in bed when we went round there at one-thirty this morning. A woman was there as well. She says they’ve been together for the past ten years and that last night they both stayed at home and had a meal. Apparently he doesn’t go to the club every night now. He has a manager to look after things. In the kitchen there was an empty bottle of wine and the dishwasher was full, so it appears he does have a good alibi for that one. We tried to draw him out about Ronnie but he was having none of it. Said he wasn’t saying anything until his solicitor was present. I’ve seized his phone though - if he’s had it a while, it’ll give us some info. One of the team has whisked that across to Headquarters and the techies have promised to fast-track it.” She rang her hands together. “So where does that leave us?”

Hunter watched the Detective Superintendent’s expression turn studious. He knew she was saying it more to herself than him.

A couple of seconds later she said, “You didn’t show him the photographs, taken by Guy Armstrong yet, did you?”

Hunter shook his head.

“Good. And you didn’t drop out what the tramp saw?”

“For what that evidence is worth, no.”

“I know it’s not worth much, but we have to put it to him and see what answer or reaction he gives to it.”

“You want me and Grace to do another interview with him then?”

“Not today Hunter, no. We’ll let Mark’s team and SOCO finish off completely at his house and have another go at him tomorrow. We’ll bed him down for the night and start afresh. I’ll authorise the extension to his detention. We can’t have him disappearing like his mate Ronnie. In the meantime, check on how Alan Darbyshire is getting on. The last I was told was that it definitely was a heart-attack, and that he’s now comfortable on a ward, but they’re not going to release him for a couple of days at least. I’ve already given instructions for them to release his guard. He’s not going anywhere.” She yawned and clamped a hand across her mouth. “God, I’m knackered. I need my bed.” She rested her elbows on the desk and supported her chin in her hands. “Mr Robshaw’s going to give a de-briefing at seven tonight. I’m going to call it a day before I collapse. Is there anything you and Grace can pick up?”

Her question triggered a thought from his nighttime musings over the investigation.“There is something I’d like to run past you.”

“Go on then. As Dumbo says, I’m all ears.”

He cracked a grin, then said, “No one’s talked to Jessica. Yes, we’ve spoken with Lucy’s parents but we’ve not spoken with her daughter ever. Her grandparents said she’d seen a psychiatrist in the past because of nightmares and problems she had suffered as a child, but we never asked if their sessions had revealed anything. Why don’t we speak to her? It’s not going to harm anything is it? You never know, there might be something. She was five when her mum disappeared and I know that’s young, but I think of what my own kids were like at five years old and it’s surprising just how much they’re aware of at that age.”

He waited for a response. After a good fifteen seconds of silence, she replied. “I agree Hunter. What harm will it do? We’ve absolutely nothing to lose. You and Grace see if you can fix it up, and feed it back in at briefing.” With that, she pushed herself out of Hunter’s chair and headed for the door. She waved a hand without looking back. “See you in the morning.”

Following Dawn Leggate’s departure, Hunter updated Grace, and as he completed the day’s paperwork she tried to contact Jessica. They hadn’t a phone number for her but they had her grandmother, Margaret Hall’s telephone number on file.

Grace’s call to Lucy’s parents was picked up and the first few minutes of the conversation were a barrage of questions about the latest developments in the investigation. Grace happily provided the answers, then moved on to the real purpose of her call. She explained that they had Peter in custody and needed to speak with Jessica. She was met with a good twenty seconds of silence, so she explained in detail about how they wanted to see if her granddaughter could recollect anything from her past. Grace could sense the anxiety in her voice when Margaret came back on the line. “She’s very vulnerable you know,” she repeatedly said, and added “She’s gone through such a lot in her life, losing her mum and not having a father who loved her.” After ten minutes, Grace managed to convince her that it was necessary, assuring her that they would tread sensitively. She invited Margaret to come along with her granddaughter and arranged to meet them the next day. Before she hung up she gave them directions to the police station and fixed the time for ten am.

As expected, the evening briefing was short. Nothing incriminating had been found at Peter Blake-Hall’s home and the search teams were going to start on his club the next day. Ronnie Fisher had gone to ground. Task Force and CID had turned over a number of homes belonging to family members and close associates but they hadn’t been able to find him. A nationwide manhunt was now in place.

Detective Superintendent Robshaw concluded the session by telling everyone that he wanted them all in for seven am the following morning.

Hunter squared up the edges of his loose papers and dropped them into his pending tray. They could wait for the next day. He grabbed his padded coat off the back of his seat and threw it over his shoulder.

He watched Grace tidy up her desk. As she dropped a couple of pens into her desk holder he said, “I’m just going to call in and see how Mike is on my way home, what about you?”

She glanced at her watch. “I’d love to be able to say yes Hunter, but I promised everyone a cooked meal tonight. I daren’t be in the bad books again.”

“No probs,” he replied and made for the door. “I’m only doing a flying visit myself. I’m totally knackered,” he called back.

“Send him my love,” Grace called after him.

Hunter rode the lift up to the third floor of the District General hospital. Mike was on the surgical ward after his operation. Following the signs, he strode down the corridor, entered the ward and passed the nurses’ station towards the six-bedded unit where Mike was. At the glass partition he stopped and scanned the room, until he spotted Mike sitting up in bed. But he was with a woman and the sight of her caught Hunter by surprise. He had only ever seen Chief Inspector Janet Dobson in uniform. He knew from his visits to Headquarters that she was in charge of the Prosecutions Department. But here she was in civvies, leaning across Mike’s bed chatting to him and holding his hand.

Hunter smirked.
Well you crafty old bugger. All that time I felt sorry for you, thinking you were alone. And you’ve been knocking off a Chief Inspector.
Hunter retraced his steps.
You don’t need me tonight for company, Mike Sampson.

He was about to get back in the lift when he felt a tap on his shoulder. He turned to see Pauline Darbyshire. She looked drained.

“I thought it was you,” she said.

He picked out a note of nervousness in her voice. “Have you just been visiting Alan?” This felt awkward.

“Yes, have you just come to check on how he’s doing?”

“No, I’ve just called to see a colleague.”

“I hope it’s nothing serious.”

“No he’s fine. Just had an operation.” He wasn’t going to expand on that. He didn’t want her knowing what had gone on since her husband’s arrest.

“I’m glad I’ve caught you, DS Kerr. Alan said he’d like to talk to you.”

Hunter was puzzled. “What do you mean?”

“He’s finally told me what’s happened. He’s in a right state. He knows it’s pretty serious, but he wants to get it sorted out. He said he wanted to talk with you.” She touched Hunter’s arm. “I think he trusts you. Go and have a word with him will you? He’s only just down the corridor.”

“But I can’t speak to him Mrs Darbyshire. I can only do that in a proper interview. I can’t do it here in hospital.”

She gripped his coat. “Please, DS Kerr, he sounds desperate.”

Hunter sighed.

“Please,” she repeated.

He was about to politely refuse until curiosity kicked in. A quick chat with Alan Darbyshire was not going to harm anything especially if he documented the conversation tomorrow. He knew it could be a point of debate at court, but he decided to cross that bridge when he came to it.

Hunter patted Pauline’s hand still gripping his coat, “Of course I’ll have a chat with Alan.”

He followed her back in the direction of the surgical ward, but before they got there the corridor branched off and took on a detour towards the admissions ward.

Pauline pointed out where Alan was and left Hunter at the door.

Darbyshire was propped up in his bed, hooked up to a beeping monitor. He looked surprisingly well, given that he’d had a heart attack only twelve hours earlier.

“Gave us quite a scare there Alan,” he opened.

“They’ve said it was a warning for me to change my lifestyle, blah,blah,blah. You know, the usual routine. A couple of days and I’ll be out of here and back in your cell.” He gave a reluctant smile.

Hunter really wanted to say ‘It’s only what you deserve.’ Instead he said, “Pauline told me you wanted a word?”

Alan Darbyshire gesticulated for Hunter to sit down. “If you wouldn’t mind.”

Hunter sank into a high backed chair. “What can I do for you?”

“Look, I know from yesterday’s interview that you’ve got enough on me for perjury, but I think I should explain how things are.”

“You can do that when we interview you once you get out of here.”

“Oh come off it Hunter. You’ll get the version I want to give you in interview. Don’t you really want to know what went off?”

Hunter eyed him curiously for a few seconds. Then he said, “I’m listening.”

Alan Darbyshire stared back. “I’m not as bad as you think, you know. Sure, I’ve strayed a little, but that’s what we all did back in the seventies and eighties. Dodging and weaving with a job ran with the territory. I include Jeff in that as well. It was just how we worked as a team.” His look hardened. “But Jeff didn’t deserve this. This has gone beyond what I thought would happen.” He paused and took in a deep breath.

“I’m still listening.”

“Look, I was never into Peter Blake-Hall for anything, neither was Jeff. We were not on the take, like you’re maybe thinking. True, Jeff and I got a new car, and a holiday at Peter’s place in Benidorm, but we paid for those. We got them at cost, that’s all.” He blinked and dabbed a finger at the corner of each eye. “You probably know that Peter was my snout. I came across him as a young man, just setting up his own mechanic’s business. He knew who was into ringing motors and doing bits of handling and he helped me put a few villains away. It was a good little number I had going with him. It helped me get promoted and stay in CID, and in return I helped him out when he got that club. I advised him how to run it and how not to get caught out, especially with it being a strip club. I mean he wasn’t doing any harm, was he? Just that it was a different climate back then.” He chewed his bottom lip and said, “Getting round to Lucy, Peter rang me that day when she went missing. Jeff and I went to see him and we really did believe what he told us. We really did all those enquiries that are on the file and from what the people said we genuinely thought at first we’d find her at Daniel Weaver’s house. Of course when we saw those scratches to his face and no sign of Lucy we thought he’d harmed her. Finding Lucy’s bag in his shed just sealed it for us.”