Cold Death (D.S.Hunter Kerr) (23 page)

His stomach turned over; he knew this was the scene of a major incident.

He slewed his car into the kerb and leapt from it, leaving the driver’s door open as he launched into a sprint. He could see his parents’ house less than fifty yards away but he couldn’t get anywhere near for abandoned vehicles. A young uniformed officer was about to head him off as he dipped beneath a strand of waving incident tape.  He moved aside as Hunter flashed his warrant card and raced past.

Slackening his pace, as he neared the drive, he swore he had never seen as much activity; uniformed cops, plain clothed detectives and Scenes of Crime officers were swarming all around the front of the house. Despite attending so many crime scenes this seemed so surreal; this was his old home; he had moved here when he had been twelve years old and had spent his teenage years growing up in its warm and loving environment. And this was the street where he had met Polly, who had lived four doors away and whom he had fallen madly in love with as his first girlfriend. It was here where he had first heard the news that she had been found murdered. Finally it was this place where he had made his most life-changing decision – telling his parents that he didn’t want to take up his place at university to study fine art – instead, he wanted to be a cop and catch his girlfriend’s killer.

A lot of water had flowed under the bridge since then.

He focussed his gaze as he entered the top of the drive. Much of the activity was centred at the front lounge window, which had a huge gaping hole in the double-glazing with just a few fragments of glass jutting from the frame. Two forensic officers
were draping a plastic sheet over something half-inside, half-outside the window and as he rushed into the drive Hunter realised what it was. From the light coming through the gap inside his parent’s house he could clearly make out the naked shape of a gaunt lanky man through the semi-opaque sheet. This is what his mother had been in such a state over.

On the front lawn the skeletal frame of a forensic tent was in the process of being erected by SOCO; he recognised Duncan Wroe.

He spotted his boss emerging from the front door. In the hallway, behind him, stood the red-headed Scottish DCI he had spoken with ten days ago; he tried to recollect her name but suddenly his brain was mush.

“Hunter!” shouted Michael Robshaw.

Hunter’s pace had dropped to a fast-walk as he made towards them.

“What the hell is going on?” he demanded. “Who on earth’s this?” he shouted pointing towards the cadaver. “Where are my mum and dad? Are they hurt?” He machine-gunned the questions one after another in quick succession.

Detective Superintendent Robshaw held up a hand as DCI Dawn Leggate stepped over the threshold to join him.

Hunter pointed his finger towards her. “Why’s DCI Leggate here?” He’d recalled her name. “What’s she got to do with this?”

“Whoa just a minute Hunter, calm down, both your parents are okay. Shook up - but neither of them are hurt. As we speak they’re on their way to the Victim Interview Suite at Maltby police station. The FME is on route as well to check them over.”

“Who’s that?” Hunter asked again, pointing towards the naked corpse.

“Steady down Hunter and we’ll tell you.”

He watched his Superintendent glance sideways at the Scottish DCI.

She shrugged her shoulders and took a deep breath, pushing her hands into her rainproof jacket. “That’s the body of a junkie.”

“A junkie?”

The DCI nodded. “He was abducted two weeks ago near to where he lived in Glasgow.”

For a second Hunter was dumbfounded. Everything was spinning round in his head.

“What’s having the body of a druggie from Glasgow thrown through the front window of my mum and dad’s home got to do with them?” He wanted answers and he wanted them quick.

“It’s all linked to an investigation I’m involved in,” the DCI responded.

He switched his gaze between the Detective Chief Inspector and his boss. He pointed his finger at her again as if it was a weapon. “I knew you were down here for something. What’s this shit you’re hiding from me?” He asked angrily.

“That’s enough Hunter,” interjected Michael Robshaw. “Don’t say something you’ll regret later.” He took a step towards Hunter. “DCI Leggate is here under my sanction, and she and her team have actually been trying to protect your father. Now as I have already told you, your mum and dad are safe and should be at Maltby police station by now. I want you to go there with DCI Leggate and when you get there she and your dad will fill you in with everything you need to know.”

* * * * *

Given the time of night, the main roads were quiet, enabling Hunter to step on the accelerator of his Audi as he headed towards Maltby Police Station.

Beside him sat Dawn Leggate.

“The junkie’s name is Fraser Cullen. He was a snout of one of my DSs.”

Hunter was watching her out of the corner of his eyes. The DCI never took her eyes away from the windscreen.

“It’s a long story, but basically, me and my team have been investigating the murders of three retired detectives for the past month, and just over two weeks ago Fraser contacted my DS and told him he had information regarding one of the murders. Fraser gave us the names of two men who had beaten to death a retired detective in Glasgow. Ten minutes after the meeting between Fraser and my DS we got an anonymous phone call to the effect that someone had seen Fraser being bundled into a grey Ford Mondeo. We’ve been searching for him, the car, and the two men he named since that call.”

There was the mention of the grey Mondeo again, thought Hunter. The same colour and make of car that was involved in the attack on one of his uniformed colleagues, and which he had disturbed in the car park of his father’s gym yesterday.

What the fuck is going on!
“I don’t get it. What’s the relevance of Fraser’s – whatever his name is – dead body being thrown through my parents’ front window?  Are you saying my dad’s involved in drugs?”

“Cullen. Fraser Cullen. And no, it’s nothing to do with drugs. As I’ve said, it’s a long story, and soon you’ll be told everything. Let’s just see if you’re mum and dad are all right first. That’s the main priority. Then if your dad’s in a fit state to talk he can tell you everything. I promised him faithfully he could be the one to tell you when the time came.”

Hunter’s head was in a whirl and he was doing his best to focus on his driving. He gripped the steering wheel so tightly that a tingling sensation shot through his fingers and up into his forearms. It brought him back from the muddle his brain was desperately trying to make sense of. Glancing down at his hands he realised they had turned partially white; he realised instantly that he needed to rid himself quickly of his frustration and vexation.

He spotted the road sign for Maltby police station – the journey had flown. He flicked down the column indicator and turned left off the main road.

Pulling into a visitor’s bay he killed the engine and took a deep breath.

DCI Leggate reached across spanning her palm across Hunter’s forearm.

He stared at her.

“I’m not trying to wind you up DS Kerr, believe me. I made a promise to your father and I’m simply keeping it. In another ten minutes you’ll know everything.” She closed her grip. “Some of what you are going to hear is not going to sit comfortably so I’m warning you to be prepared.”

Hunter led the way into the station; he had been here before. They both flashed their warrant cards to the receptionist and she buzzed them through into an internal corridor and pointed them through to where they needed to be.

The Victim Reception Suite was where rape victims and abused children normally came to be supported, examined and questioned by video evidence. He had used a similar room at other stations elsewhere when he had been in CID.

Hunter pushed through the door into an overbearingly warm room that had been furnished as though it was someone’s front lounge. The instant he stepped into the room his mother launched herself off from the sofa and flung her arms around his neck.

Hunter felt her body convulse as she mumbled his name. It momentarily took him aback; he had never witnessed an outburst like this from his mother. He had always seen her as such a strong character.

It also had the effect of deflating his anger and frustration, bringing him to his senses. He looked over her huddled shoulders at his father who was slowly rising from one of the seats in the room, face expressionless, as if in shock.

Hunter gently eased his mum away catching the look in her face. Her eyes were bloodshot; she had obviously been crying for some time.

DCI Leggate took over the support of his mother, guiding her back to the sofa and taking up a seat next to her.

Hunter lowered himself onto the arm of one of the chairs facing them all.

Dawn Leggate flashed an awkward smile at Jock. “I’ve not told your son anything yet Jock, but now it’s time for him to know everything. We agreed that if things ever came to this then it would be the right thing to do, didn’t we?”

Jock nodded. He had a forlorn look on his face.

DCI Leggate turned her gaze back to Hunter. “Before your father tells you his bit I’ll tell you where I fit into all this.”

Hunter slipped off the arm and dropped onto the seat cushion.

“Just over three months ago two prisoners serving life for the murder of a twenty-four year old woman and her five year old daughter were released from Barlinnie prison after spending thirty-six years behind bars. Those two prisoners are Billy Wallace and Rab Geddes. I don’t know either of these two - way before my time - but I have since learned their history. Billy had the nickname Braveheart in his younger days. He had a fearsome reputation and used to boast that William Wallace was his ancestor. I’m not sure that’s true, and to be honest knowing what I now know about Billy Wallace I for one feel that it’s an insult to a great Scottish hero. Billy comes from bad stock. His father Gordon did time for a couple of warehouse robberies and was involved in the black market during the nineteen-fifties in Glasgow. Throughout the sixties Gordon built up a bit of a criminal empire and formed one of the leading gangster families in the suburbs, offering protection to pubs and clubs and at one stage he was peddling guns around to arm criminals.” She leaned forward clasping her hands intently. “Gordon introduced his son into the fold when he was about eighteen. Billy was a real tough nut who could handle himself and he quickly made a reputation for himself because of the extreme violence he would use, even when he didn’t need to. Rab Geddes was a lifelong school friend and between them they began to run the Wallace family business. Billy started to push drugs – something which was unheard of amongst the gangs and began to make himself quite a wealthy young man. Then things took a turn for the worse for Billy and his family. The police began to crack down. A few rogue cops who had been taking backhanders to turn the other cheek, or in some cases lose evidence, were investigated and dismissed and many of the different gang members had their collars felt. Rival gangs started to turn in against one another. The Procurator Fiscal together with CID from Shettlestone nick – east end of Glasgow – began looking at the Wallace gang round about nineteen-seventy and Gordon decided to call it a day, happy to live off the wealth he had amassed from his earlier criminal activities. His son Billy didn’t, and one night back in nineteen-seventy-one when he went to collect a drug debt, things boiled over. He couldn’t find his dealer who had ripped him off and so in a fit of temper he shot the guy’s girlfriend and her five-year-old daughter before setting fire to the flat. Within days snouts from opposing gangs had dropped Billy and Rab for it and detectives managed to get a breakthrough when they found a witness who had been there on the night of the murders and provided crucial evidence. The upshot was that they were both arrested and as a result of the evidence were convicted of the murders and sent to prison for thirty-six years. You will have gathered by now that Billy is a bit of a psycho, and even in prison he continued his violence. He was responsible for at least one prisoner’s murder and he was also involved in the stabbing of two others.” DCI Leggate pushed herself back into the sofa crossing one leg over the other. “He also vowed revenge against the team of detectives who’d arrested him and also the main witness who had helped convict him. And that’s where I have come in. Several weeks ago Billy and Rab disappeared off the radar after they did a bunk from a bail hostel. Shortly after, four people – three men and a woman – were brutally murdered. The man and woman were from my neck of the woods – Stirling, the other two men lived near Glasgow. The men are all retired detectives – the same detectives who were responsible for getting the convictions and putting Wallace and Geddes behind bars. My team from Stirling are involved in a joint investigation with Glasgow CID and we have enough evidence to link Billy and Rab to the murders.” She uncrossed her legs and sat forwards. “Your dad recognised Billy Wallace this evening and we have circulated the number of the grey Mondeo he was seen making his getaway in. There are a lot of officers on the ground looking for them as I speak – but then you’ll have guessed that.”

The mention of the grey Mondeo again flashed an alert inside his head. Now he remembered where he had seen the driver before. The newly grown, thinning, sandy hair had tricked him. He was the bald headed man at Staithes whom he had seen arguing with his father that morning.
It was all fitting into place.