Blood Line (22 page)

‘We reckon that Sammy tipped off the cops about Errol and that’s why they picked him up.’

‘But Sammy has disappeared, hasn’t he?’

‘We believe so,’ Helen said, passing the photograph back to Paul.

‘Is it him what’s missing? ’Cos I know a lotta people would like to strangle him. He was a really nasty little sod.’

‘Errol shared a flat with him, didn’t he?’

‘I wouldn’t call it sharin’. He dossed down on his floor then we met and he moved in wiv me and the kids.’

‘Can you look at this photograph?’

Paul now passed her the single shot of Alan with his surfboard. Again Sandra gave it a good look-over, but shook her head.

‘I didn’t really mix wiv them.’

‘There’s a café called the Smugglers . . .’

She leaned forward. ‘Which one? There’s quite a few called the same name. The one in Newquay is very nice, and then some are a bit cheap, know what I mean – summer openers. They close ’em down for winter.’ She jabbed her finger at the photograph. ‘Yeah, that’s where I worked.’

‘Did a lot of the surfers use it?’

‘Yeah. It’s right on the beach and open all hours.’

‘Do they do drugs there?’

‘They do everythin’ – it’s a bit of a rough place. Sammy used to be kingpin. He could get you anythin’ you wanted.’

‘And you never saw any one of these guys in the café?’

The young woman shifted uncomfortably. ‘Me back is killin’ me,’ she said. ‘I think if you don’t mind you should leave.’

‘Just take another look, love. We really appreciate this,’ Helen said encouragingly.

Sandra suddenly became cagey, shaking her head. ‘I’m not getting into anything, not in the state I’m in. I’ve said enough. I don’t want no trouble.’

‘Do you think you would get into trouble?’ Paul said.

‘I could, and I’m not wanting to start yakking on about any connections to Sammy. He’s someone you don’t mess with and I got to look out for Errol and the kids.’

‘Is he looking out for you?’

‘Yes, he fuckin’ is. At least he’s gonna marry me, said he’s gonna take good care of me when he gets out.’

‘I hope he keeps his word. He has fifteen other children, did you know that?’ Paul replaced the photograph into his briefcase.

‘You are fucking joking, ain’t ya!’ she gasped. ‘He’s got no others.’

‘You sure he’s not just using you to be able to try and stay in the country?’ Helen wished Paul hadn’t been so abrasive.

Sandra heaved herself upright. ‘I want you to go. Go on, both of you!’

‘He’s an illegal immigrant, love. The judge recommended him for deportation.’

The girl pursed her lips and then flopped back down again. Paul was unsure how to proceed, but Helen moved to stand by Sandra.

‘Can I get you a glass of water, love?’

‘Yeah. In the kitchen there’s some bottles in the fridge. Thanks.’

She closed her eyes. ‘To be honest, you know what? I don’t care any more. If what you say is true, where does that leave me?’

Helen returned with an open bottle of water and handed it to Sandra, who sipped and then burped loudly.

‘There’s no way I should’ve had that curry,’ she hiccuped.

Helen stood by her and patted her shoulder.

‘Could you just have another look at the photographs, love? The person missing is this blonde guy, the one in the middle. It’s nothing to do with Sammy Marsh, we’re not interested in him.’

Sandra held out her hand for the photograph again.

‘I dunno, Sammy is such a bastard,’ she mumbled.

‘How well did you know him?’

‘I didn’t. I kept well out of his way, but like I said, he was a sort of kingpin with these surfer guys. They like to get stoned or coked up.’

She looked at the photograph again.

‘Yeah.’ Then she passed it back up to Helen and took a drink from the bottle of water.

‘What do you mean, yeah?’ Helen asked.

‘I seen him. Don’t know him, but he used to be in the Smugglers. Got a real fancy car. Sammy was often with him. You know he’s a poof, don’t ya?’

‘Sammy?’

‘Yeah. These guys are all muscle and suntanned. They were sort of a clique, if you know what I mean. Acted like they was above everyone else and . . .’ She sighed. ‘Sammy used Errol ’cos of his size, like a henchman so nobody messed with him. That’s all I know. It’s the God’s truth.’

Paul took the photograph from Helen.

‘Do you know if this man, the blonde guy in the middle, was also a homosexual?’

Sandra shrugged and took a gulp of water. ‘He was very friendly with Sammy so he could be one of ’em.’

‘Did you ever see him use drugs?’

‘Nah, I told you. I didn’t get into any of that.’

‘But Errol was involved—’ Paul began, but he was interrupted.

‘He’s no fuckin’ poof, he got me up the spout. I’m gettin’ tired of all this. I’m gonna go and lie down.’ Sandra hoisted herself out of the chair and gestured for them to get out. As they went into the hall she asked rather plaintively if it was true.

‘What’s true, Sandra?’

‘That Errol’s got fifteen other kids?’

‘You should ask him. That’s what we were told, but let him tell you himself.’

Sandra opened the front door.

‘I’m sick of it all,’ she said tiredly. ‘Sick to death of people lying to me. You’d think by now I’d be old enough to know better.’

Paul walked out ahead of Helen, who remained a moment with Sandra.

‘We really appreciate you taking the time to talk to us.’

‘That’s okay.’

‘It looks as if you’ve had a few unpleasant callers . . . your door has been kicked in.’

‘Yeah. When they come for Errol they almost kicked it right off its hinges. I stuck that board over my letterbox to stop getting the fucking junk mail.’

‘Thank you again, love. I hope it all goes well with the birth. Just one more thing . . . you described a flashy car driven by the man in the photograph. Can you think what colour it was, soft top or hard top, modern or . . .’

‘I dunno. It was low down with the roof off. Dunno what make it was, but it was silver-ish.’

As Helen left, Sandra hooked the safety chain across the door.

*

Paul was very quiet as they drove back to the station. Helen had suggested they stop off and get a bite to eat, but he had refused, saying they should get the new information back to the incident room.

‘Okay by me,’ Helen agreed. ‘Do you think Sandra was straight with us?’

‘You want my honest opinion?’

‘Yes, of course.’

‘I think that woman would lie her way out of anything. She’s a slag and with two kids already, now about to have a third and all on the social services, living in that hovel of a flat.’

‘Well, taking all that into consideration,’ Helen smiled patiently, ‘did you think she had more to tell us?’

‘I dunno, but what we do know is that Mr Clean and everybody’s best friend, Alan Rawlins, had another side to him.’

‘A gay one.’

‘For chrissakes, just because that slag says he knew Sammy Marsh doesn’t mean that he was also sexually involved with him.’

‘Maybe not, but it does give us an insight into the fact that he may have been using drugs with Marsh. It’s just showing a different side to Alan, and one I think we’re going to have to dig into.’

Anna sat in her office sifting through Alan’s magazines and checking out the personal ads. A number had red rings around them as if they were of interest. They were mostly gay men seeking partners and a few were of a more explicit nature, but none of the bondage adverts were ringed. It meant they would now have to get in touch with all the advertisers who were possibly contacted by Alan Rawlins.

Brian Stanley was also going through the magazines and making similar notes. The pornographic DVDs were stacked to be checked out, and the homophobic or obscene remarks flying around the incident room as Brian constantly read out various sections were becoming tedious.

By the time Helen and Paul had caught up with the new developments and were able to add theirs, it was obvious that Alan Rawlins led a double life. Top priority was the need to trace Sammy Marsh, for which they would need the assistance of the Devon and Cornwall Drug Squad. Meanwhile, the computer taken from Alan’s room was still being assessed by the Tech Support team. They had reported back that many files had recently been deleted, not that it mattered as they would still be able to gain access and reproduce whatever material was on them as they had the hard drive.

Anna called for a briefing update towards the end of the afternoon. Although they now had a lot of new material, plus the contacts to be sifted through, they were still no closer to identifying the victim. But they now knew that Alan Rawlins’s double life was centred on his time in Cornwall. Anna realised they would have to go there, to search Sammy Marsh’s flat, and his studio, and to start questioning everyone who might have known Alan Rawlins.

‘First thing tomorrow we start the round of calls connected to the gay magazines’ adverts. Also, I am certain that Alan had money stashed somewhere and it could be a considerable amount. We have the sales and receipts from his vehicle business and we can assume he rented a place in Cornwall so we need to check that out.’

Stanley did his finger gesture.

‘You think that maybe he was in league with Sammy Marsh? From what we’ve gathered, Marsh was a drug dealer; what if Alan was also involved? We know that Marsh was a nasty piece of work; according to the Cornwall Drug Squad he’s done a runner somewhere. As we still don’t have the blood identified as Alan’s in his flat, it could be someone else’s – maybe even Marsh’s.’

‘He’s got a criminal record so his DNA should be on the national database. Get Liz Hawley to check it out.’

Anna had even considered this herself, but they had been so snowed under with all the new developments, it had slipped her mind.

Helen asked if Anna believed Tina Brooks was aware of the double life Alan was leading.

‘To be honest, I don’t. That is not to say we shouldn’t talk to her about it. So we line that up for tomorrow, and do a buccal swab for DNA. I also want to talk to Mr Rawlins again, just in case he removed other material from his son’s room.’

Stanley had his finger in the air once more.

‘Cash . . . Do you know if Rawlins was making cash deals with his sale of cars? That would be a nice way to offload it, paying cash for drugs. I don’t mean for his own use, but what if he went into business with Sammy Marsh?’

‘It’s possible, but we have not as yet uncovered this cash. We have no other bank account details or bank statements except for the ones we removed from his flat. From his receipts he had listed at least four hundred thousand over a period of five years, plus . . . Paul, didn’t the woman Sandra Fallow say he also drove a flash car in Cornwall?’

‘Yeah. She was also very certain he had a relationship with Marsh; saw them together at the Smugglers café.’

Anna asked if the Tech Support had come through with anything, but was told they were still working.

‘We might get lucky with the files and documents on his computer,’ she said.

Stanley swung back in his desk chair.

‘Yeah, probably more sicko gay stuff like his disgusting DVDs. I’m not gonna watch them – they turn my stomach. Paul, you might like to take a bunch home.’

Before Paul could rise to the bait Anna turned on Stanley.

‘That’s enough from you, but we do need to check these DVDs out.’

‘I’ll do it,’ Helen said.

‘No, we can all spend time on them, so split them up between you all – and that includes you, Brian, all right?’

There was a moan around the incident room.

‘Listen up, everyone,’ Anna snapped. ‘A body was cut up in Tina Brooks’s flat. Right now we have found no murder weapon and, in case you are unaware of it, no body. It has to have been dumped somewhere and this has to also be a priority.’

‘We got a negative result from Forensics on her car. She was asking to get it back or said could she charge us for a rental,’ Helen reported.

Stanley gave a wide-armed gesture.

‘She’s a cheeky cow, but do we release her car back to her or not?’

‘Yes, as long as Forensics have finished with it.’

Anna checked her watch and then turned to look at the incident board. It was a display of names and contacts, arrows linking one person to another with Cornwall underlined.

‘Tomorrow I’ll arrange for a trip to Cornwall, but in the meantime we’ll see what the Newquay police can give us to trace where Alan Rawlins lived whilst he was there. As yet we have no address.’ She scanned the board again. ‘How could he hide his double life and give no addresses of rented flats or hotels, even?’

‘We’ve underestimated him,’ Paul said quietly.

‘You can say that again.’

Paul stared at the board. ‘Maybe he used another name when he was there?’

‘Maybe he did, but we don’t even have details of how often he went there. Was it once, twice or three times a year – or just a couple of weeks in the summer?’

‘I’ll check with the garage he worked in and see what holidays he took, going back a few years.’

‘Good, yes – do that, Paul.’

‘What about Tina? She must have been aware of how often he went so I’ll also check with her.’

‘No, I’ll do that first thing tomorrow, and I’ll also call in on Mr Rawlins. I’ll check with him about Alan’s holidays, hotels, guest houses et cetera.’

Anna instructed the team to break for the evening. She made a point of picking up three porno DVDs for herself to peruse and then she asked Brian to come into her office.

He already had his overcoat on when he came to see her. He held up three DVDs.

‘The wife’s gonna be worried about me watching these.’

‘For goodness sake, Brian, grow up and stop giving the snide sexual remarks to Paul. It’s not funny and quite clearly upsets him. You cut it out. I won’t have it, understand me?’

‘I didn’t know he was a shirt-lifter.’

‘For chrissakes, it’s childish homophobic remarks like that which—’

‘It’s the truth. I didn’t know he was homosexual and if he can’t take a joke about it . . .’

‘It’s nothing to joke about. It’s his private life, so consider this an official warning, and from now on just watch what you say.’