Death on Account (The Lakeland Murders) (2 page)

‘Ian, it’s Andy. Listen, I need to know what Trevor Royal looks like?’

‘Is there a problem?’ He could hear the edge in Mann’s voice.

‘Hope not, but quick as you like.’ It wasn’t like Hall not to say please.

‘He’s forty five, about five ten, plump, balding, brown hair, blue eyes.’

‘Any distinguishing?’

‘Always looking over his shoulder.’

Hall didn’t laugh.

‘Seriously, Andy, can I help?’

‘It’s probably nothing. But I have to meet him down at Gooseholme and I don’t want to buy a pup when I get there. Got to go, sorry.’

Hall’s car was in the yard round the back, and it was well and truly blocked in. But since the traffic wardens seemed to delight in giving cops tickets if they left their cars outside the station on the yellow lines he couldn’t blame the late arrivals from blocking in the inveterate early-birds like him. Hall made a snap decision and decided to walk, rather than trying to get the other cars moved. He was pretty certain he’d get to Gooseholme sooner that way. And if he saw a car from the station heading in to town he’d be able to get a lift anyway.

But he didn’t see any, so Hall half walked, half jogged down the hill, and kept up a fast walk through the pedestrianised part of town. He told himself that he’d just about be on time.

And then he saw her. It was just a glimpse, but he knew instantly, just as he did when she turned up in his dreams every night, that it was Carol, his soon to be ex-wife. She was with the man who she’d left him and their children for, and Hall’s pace slowed. He might have even have stopped completely for a moment. She had a bag of shopping in one hand, and the other man’s hand in the other. She was laughing. Hall had expected to feel more, like the intense pain he’d felt when he first saw Carol without her wedding ring, but he didn’t. Perhaps that was a good sign.

Hall looked away, and set off again, glancing at his watch. He would be a couple of minutes late at most. He walked down towards the river, nodding to the people he knew as he went. He was always surprised at how pleased some of the station’s regulars seemed to be to see him, and how eager they always were to chat. It was as if they regarded Hall as their partner, if not in crime then at least in some kind of strange collaboration. For some reason their friendliness always put him slightly on edge, probably because it was one of the many things about persistent offenders that he couldn’t understand, and he had no time for it today anyway. So the couple who called out to him just received a quick wave of the hand in return.

He crossed the river, and started across Gooseholme, a large green that he half-remembered had once been an island in the middle of the river Kent. Now it was a riverside park in the middle of town, where he and Carol had often brought their own kids when they were small, and where they’d had many a game of miniature golf. It was the only form of golf that he had any time for. Hall saw the bench, just back from the river bank by the weir, and he could also see a man, answering Mann’s description of Royal, sitting at one end of it. As he came closer Hall could see that his head was tilted back, and Hall thought that he couldn’t be too worried if he was able to fall sound asleep on a park bench.

His pace slowed slightly with relief. But as he approached he could see that something wasn’t right, and he started to run, feeling the perspiration beading on his face. The man’s head was thrown back far too far, and Hall knew that even the most nervous of supergrasses can’t sleep with their eyes wide open.

Hall swore, and a woman with a pushchair glanced over at him. He held up his hand in apology, and bent to check for a pulse. The thin red line around Royal’s neck told him the cause of death just as accurately, and certainly more quickly, than any pathologist ever could. Hall phoned the station, then stood between the bench and passers by. An elderly man came up as Hall listened to the sirens approaching. He wasn’t happy to be kept away, so Hall showed him his Warrant Card and asked him to step back.

‘But I sit here every day. I used to come here with the wife, but she passed on last year. That’s why I got this bloody thing.’ The old man gestured sadly at a small white dog, which bared its yellow teeth at Hall and growled.

Ten minutes later the area was cordoned off, and Hall was asking one of the PCs to radio in for an ETA for SOCO when he saw Jane Francis and her Specials approaching, still looking like the leader of a guided tour. It took Hall a moment to realise who the people with her were, and as Jane got closer he called out to her. ‘Jane, can you and your followers try to find any witnesses? Get your crew to ask everyone they can see around here if they were in or around Goseholme about half an hour ago, and get them to hold on to them if they were. OK? I’ll brief you in a minute.’

Gill waved shyly at him, and despite everything he found himself waving back. He was quite certain that everyone in the station had known from the first night they went out together. They probably even knew which seats in the cinema they’d sat in. But now that he was standing next to the cooling body of a dead supergrass, who he knew all too well was the key witness in the high-profile double-murder retrial of Tom Cafferty down in Liverpool, he was certain that he had a great deal more to worry about than that.

Greg Barnes, AKA Tonto, was the first of the SOCO team to arrive.

‘I’m keeping everyone as far away from the bench as I can’ said Hall, ‘especially right behind it. It looks like the killer came up on him from behind.’

‘You’re learning, Andy, thanks. As soon as the snapper arrives I’ll make a start. Who is our bench-sitter anyway?’

‘Trevor Royal. I was due to meet him here, but I was late.’

‘And now he is, eh?’

Hall didn’t smile.

‘Sorry, mate’ said Tonto, ‘I didn’t mean anything by it. So you’re thinking that the victim was garroted, and that the assailant came up on him from behind?’

‘Unless the Doc takes a different view, yes. But looking at him I don’t think it was sunstroke. So just do your best to find me anything that helps. Like you say I’m certainly going to need it. There’s no CCTV covering this spot as far as I can see, and our killer could have come from either side of the river, so unless you and the team can come up with something for me we may end up relying on all these potential eye-witnesses, God help us.’

There was quite a crowd gathering behind the tape, and Hall could see Jane Francis, a couple of uniforms and the Specials trying to corral anyone who looked like they might have seen something.

‘So the killer will turn out to be a tall, short, hairy, bald transsexual wearing black, orange, blue and yellow, and our witnesses always knew that he, or she, was up to something? Form the first moment they clapped eyes on him, or her, they knew, right? It’s like a sixth sense they have.’

Hall managed a faint smile. ‘Pretty much. To be honest villains usually make more sense than the general public, because at least we know that they’re lying deliberately. With Joe Public it’s usually accidental.’

‘Well look, Andy, if there’s any physical evidence, we’ll find it for you, don’t worry.’

A couple of SOCO vans turned up as they were speaking, and Doc Beech’s Jaguar was right behind. Tonto and the photographer set off for the bench, and Hall got every available uniform to start looking for witnesses. ‘Ask Jane to stand down her Specials and send them home as soon as they pass over any witnesses’ he said. ‘But thank them for their help. We’ll take it from here.’

It was DC Ray Dixon’s first day back at work, after he’d been seriously assaulted on a job, and he was still confined to office duties.

‘Sorry to wake you, Ray’ said Hall when he phoned.

‘Don’t worry boss. It’s bloody panic stations here, no-one could sleep through it, not even me. Who was this Royal character anyway? I’ve never heard of him.’

‘That was the whole idea, Ray. He grassed up the Cafferty lad on those killings in Liverpool last year, and for some reason he decided to come here with his shiny new identity and his thirty pieces of silver.’

‘I guessed as much. They’re running round like blue-arsed flies here, so I knew he had to be Royal by more than name. So who knew about him then?’

‘At the station? Me, Ian and the Super. Beyond that, I don’t know. No-one I hope. The CPS is going to go bloody mental, because without Royal’s evidence the re-trial will probably collapse.’

‘So no problem with the motive then, boss.’

‘True enough. Look Ray, make a start on getting all the CCTV collated, and order up Royal’s phone records and anything else you can find. First job is to try to spot our killer, and then work out how the Cafferty’s hit-man found our boy.’

‘Will do. By the way, Robinson is on his way out to you now, and I hear that the Chief has sent Val Gorham down too.’

‘And I thought that my day couldn’t get any better.’

‘Look on the bright side, boss. It’s a lovely day to be outside.’

‘This is nice’ said Terry Walker, putting his beer bottle down.

‘You what?’ shouted Kylie, his wife. She looked ten years younger than Terry, but was actually twenty years his junior. But then he’d never worked a day in his life, and he moisturised on the quiet.

‘I said this is nice, in the garden like. First time this year.’

‘Aye. Shall I turn down the music a bit? You know next door doesn’t like it.’

‘Nah. Who doesn’t like a bit of Sabbath? And she should be grateful it’s not something really heavy.’

Kylie doubted that this thought had crossed their neighbour’s mind, but she knew better than to say anything. ‘Another beer?’ she asked instead, glancing up at the back bedroom window of her neighbour’s house. Eleanor Barrow was looking down at them, and Kylie shrugged slightly, and looked away quickly. She didn’t want to know if Eleanor was crying again or not. So she went back in to the house, and looked in the fridge for another cold one. There weren’t any, so she took a few from the case under the stairs and put a couple in the freezer, on top of the frozen chips. Then she went upstairs and waited for Terry to shout for her again, or for his beer.

Twenty minutes later she came back downstairs. She hadn’t heard Terry call for her, but maybe he’d gone and found the beer himself. When she looked out of the window she could see that he was fast asleep on the lounger, his head lolling to one side. She went in to the sitting room and turned the stereo off.

But a few minutes later the shouting started, and she hurried outside. Her husband was out of his chair, and facing Eleanor Barrow across what was left of the fence between their gardens.

‘Don’t you tell me what I can do in my own fucking garden’ he shouted.

Kylie wasn’t close enough to hear what Eleanor was saying, and in any case she knew that Terry would be shouting her down anyway.

‘She should be in a fucking home’ Terry was shouting, pointing at Eleanor. Kylie was glad that Terry’s kids hadn’t quite managed to demolish the fence with their endless games of football, because it kept Terry on their side of the boundary. At least it did for now.

‘This is her home’ said Eleanor. ‘I’ve been up most of the night with her. Can’t you give us any peace? Haven’t you got an ounce of compassion?’

‘She’s a freak, and you’re no better. Now you better fuck off out of it, or I’m going to come over and give you a hiding. You hear me?’

But Eleanor was standing her ground, and Kylie knew what that could lead to. She didn’t want to, but she’d have to get involved. ‘Come on, Terry, you promised me the last time’ said Kylie. ‘Why ruin a lovely day?’

‘She’s already done that’ said Terry, starting to turn back towards the house, then changing his mind. ‘So you remember what I said. You’ve wasted your life on that kid, but don’t think you’re going to ruin mine too.’

‘I’m going to call the Police’ said Eleanor.

Terry laughed in her face. Twenty seconds later the music was back on, and it was louder than ever. Kylie wanted to say something to Eleanor, but she’d gone inside. It wouldn’t be worth it anyway. Nothing would change. Not now, not ever.

On Gooseholme it was actually properly warm, and Hall watched a couple of joggers run by wearing T-shirts. He hadn’t seen that since the previous September. SOCOs had erected their white canopy over the bench, and Tonto was gradually working his way out, away from where Royal had died. The Doc had been and gone, and the body had been moved too. There’d been no point in hanging about.

‘There won’t be any surprises at the PM’ Doctor Beech had said before he climbed back into his Jaguar. ‘Cause of death is obvious enough. Very professional job I’d say. He was dead in a heartbeat.’

‘And time?’

‘Oh, about thirty seconds before you arrived I’d say’ said Beech, starting the Jag’s engine. Bad news travels fast, thought Hall. He wanted to smash his fist down on the car’s roof.