Killer Plan (21 page)

55

A grey-haired man
entered the police station and shuffled up to the desk, his face flushed and his eyes bright. The desk sergeant wondered if he was drunk. All the same, the sergeant put aside his paper and listened as the man launched into a breathless monologue. He spoke very fast, his gaunt face twisted with anxiety. He was worried about a boy who had disappeared. The sergeant sat forward when he understood that the man had come to report a missing child. It was the second such report in just over a week.

The sergeant interrupted urgently. ‘Tell me about the missing boy. He’s been gone since Saturday you say. How old is he?’

In the silence that followed, he was aware of tension growing in his neck and shoulders. He knew that every individual deserved equal consideration, but crimes against children worried him more than anything else. He had two kids himself. Observing the man’s distress, he could barely control his impatience.

‘He’s...’ The man screwed up his eyes as he worked it out. ‘I was twenty-nine when he was born, so he’s thirty-eight or thirty-nine. Does that make a difference?’

The desk sergeant put down his pen and sighed. This wasn’t about a missing child at all. It was just some bloke who had gone on a bender. Nodding to show he was still listening, he allowed his attention to wander while the man continued his account of his missing son’s movements. He was becoming increasingly agitated.

The sergeant waited for an opportunity to interrupt. ‘I’m very sorry you’ve been upset like this, sir, but you wouldn’t believe the number of reports like this we receive, and they all turn out fine in the end. I’m sure he’ll be home soon. There’s nothing to stop a grown man in his thirties from taking a break now and then, and no harm done.’

Words intended to reassure the man only seemed to provoke him.

‘I don’t think you understand. I haven’t been able to get hold of him since Saturday, and it’s Tuesday. That’s four days.’

‘Let’s get down some details. What’s your name, first of all?’

‘Joe Henry Wright, Wright with a W.’

‘And your son’s name?’

‘Robert Wright. Everyone calls him Rob.’

Carefully the sergeant went through his questions, writing down a detailed description of the missing man.

‘If you can bring in a recent photograph of your son, that would be helpful. Have you tried contacting his friends?’

Joe nodded miserably. ‘I’ve gone through everyone I can think of. I don’t know what else to do.’

‘We’ll do what we can to find him, but you know it’s not against the law for your son to go away for the weekend. We can’t interfere in private matters…’

The man glared at him miserably. ‘I told you, there’s no way Rob would go off without telling me where he was.’

‘Well, leave it with us, sir,’ the sergeant replied patiently. ‘We’ll see what we can do.’

‘You don’t understand. I don’t think you’re listening.’ Joe’s narrow lips trembled and his voice rose in pitch. His face, already flushed, turned a darker shade of pink. ‘The point is, his mother’s not well. She’s in hospital, really ill.’ He leaned forward and lowered his voice. ‘It’s terminal. The end could come at any time. Rob knows that. He would never go away without making sure I could contact him, because what if something happens?’ He sounded close to tears. ‘I’m on my way to see her now. What if she asks for him and I still can’t get hold of him? I know he would never do that to us, abandon her like that. Something must have happened to him. You’ve got to find him before it’s too late.’

The desk sergeant picked up his pen again.

‘I’m sorry about your wife, sir, and I do see that the situation must be very distressing for you. Now, let me check those details, and if you can give me a list of all his known contacts, then we’ll see what we can do to help.’

Having noted down as much information as he could, he looked up and gave Joe a reassuring smile.

‘I assure you we’ll do our best to find your son, Mr Wright.’

‘You’d better do more than just write down a few names, you’d better bloody well find him.’ Joe stood there for a moment, staring at him. ‘So, what are you going to do about it?’

‘Leave it with us, sir. I suggest you go on home, and please do give us a call as soon as he turns up.’

‘I’m telling you, there’s no way he’s going to return, just like that. Something must have happened to him. He wouldn’t go off like that, not with his mother being so ill.’ His voice quavered. ‘He visits the hospital every day, and now – not a sign of him since Saturday. I just can’t get hold of him.’

He turned abruptly and walked away, blowing his nose noisily as he crossed the foyer. The desk sergeant watched him until he disappeared. It sounded as though Rob had run away from the stress of dealing with his mother’s illness. It was a rotten way to behave, but he didn’t entirely blame the guy. In any event, no doubt he’d show up again before long, shamefaced and full of apologies. A bloke going off for a weekend wasn’t exactly a cause for alarm. The fuss his father was making, he had thought at first that the bloke had lost a child. To be fair, he could understand the man being so emotional. His wife was dying. With a sigh, the sergeant filed his report. If the son had done a bunk, by the time they found him his mother might already be dead. He hoped the missing guy would return home in time to say goodbye.

56

Geraldine was annoyed with
herself for agreeing to drive all the way to the mortuary. Her irritation increased as she sat waiting in a queue of traffic. She didn’t know why the young pathologist wanted to see her. All that he had told her on the phone was that another body had been found. She understood that it had turned up on her patch, but with two murder investigations on her hands, neither of which seemed to be going anywhere, she had more than enough to occupy her time. She had been tempted to refuse point blank to drive all the way to the mortuary unless the pathologist told her what this was about, but he had been so insistent, she hadn’t liked to turn him down. It was important to stay on good terms with him. Not only was Miles Fellowes good at his job, he was willing to express opinions, unofficially. Geraldine recognised that his impressions might prove to be wrong. Certainly they couldn’t be treated as any kind of proof. All the same, his instincts hadn’t let her down yet. He had given her a few useful pointers when she had been in need of leads to follow up.

Miles’ hazel eyes lit up when he saw her. He greeted her like an old friend.

‘Geraldine, you’re here at last. It’s good to see you again. How are you?’

‘I’m fine. A bit bogged down with work right now.’

‘Sure.’ He gave her a sympathetic smile.

She waited to hear his explanation of his summons, but he just turned and stared down at the body. The dead man was tall and lanky, with thinning light brown hair and cadaverous features. Lying flat out, naked, his legs and arms looked almost impossibly long. His belly was concave and his high cheek bones jutted out. Altogether he gave a bony impression that was singularly unattractive.

‘He looks like a walking skeleton, doesn’t he?’ the pathologist commented, as though reading her thoughts. ‘Although of course he’s not walking any more.’

‘Who is he?’

Despite her annoyance at being summoned to a post mortem when she was already overstretched, Geraldine was curious. Miles had been so insistent about seeing her.

‘I thought you’d never ask,’ he grinned. ‘His name’s Robert Wright, Wright with a W. Mid-thirties, unemployed – although he owned a van and from the state of his hands he did building work of some sort, odd jobs maybe. The body was discovered yesterday evening, dumped in a van at the back of some gardens in Finchley. The vehicle was reported as suspicious, and when the police arrived, they opened it up. It wasn’t locked, and this is what they found.’ He pointed at the corpse. ‘Must have been quite a shock for the poor constable who looked in the van.’

Geraldine was puzzled.

‘If the Homicide Assessment Team called for a post mortem, they suspect there was something unlawful about this death. There must be a team investigating what happened to him.’ She did her best to control her frustration at having her time wasted. ‘To be honest, Miles, I don’t know why you sent for me. I’ve got enough to be getting on with. This one here isn’t my case. There must be a team working on it. I wouldn’t want to interfere, even if I had the time.’

Unfazed by her outburst, Miles smiled.

‘I called you straight away, because there’s something here that’s going to interest you. Trust me on this, Geraldine, you’re not going to believe it.’

Miles’ enthusiasm was infectious. In spite of herself, Geraldine was intrigued.

‘Not going to believe what?’

‘Well for a start, there’s no doubt there was foul play of some sort here. The cause of death appears to be a fall from a considerable height resulting in several fractures. He fell backwards and the impact caused his skull to crack. He died from internal bleeding and head trauma.’

‘So it’s possible he sustained a fatal injury from an accidental fall and then crawled into the back of the van and died there?’ Geraldine asked, interested in spite of herself.

‘No, he was placed in the van – dragged in there rather clumsily – after he was already dead. And someone took the trouble to disguise the registration number of the vehicle with a neat job with duct tape.’

Miles paused, as though for effect. Geraldine waited. She knew he liked to rack up the dramatic impact whenever he disclosed particularly interesting or intriguing information.

‘We found a trace of DNA on the body.’ He lowered his voice. ‘It wasn’t his. I haven’t talked to anyone else about this yet because the lab’s only just confirmed it – at least they think they may have worked out what we’re dealing with. I wanted you to be the first to hear about it.’

‘Go on.’

‘First of all, they matched the DNA to someone on the data base.’

‘Yes? Go on!’

By now Geraldine had realised that this body must be somehow related to the investigation she was working on, but Miles’ next words came as a shock.

‘To begin with they matched it to David Robinson…’

Geraldine’s jaw dropped, and he laughed.

‘I thought that would surprise you.’

Carefully he explained how the DNA had, in part at least, been such a close match to Dave’s that the lab had come up with his name straight away.

‘It’s only a partial match, but the body had been lying out overnight and they thought it could have been contaminated. So they were fairly certain – at least the probability was that they had identified the sample correctly.’

The blue van body had been discovered only about a couple of miles away from Dave Robinson’s house, but the pathologist’s claim made no sense.

‘Dave Robinson’s dead,’ Geraldine said. ‘He’s been dead for two and a half weeks. Could his DNA be found on a dead man now? Could it have been a family member? He could have had a twin brother.’

It was common knowledge that twins tended to run in families.

Miles nodded. ‘That’s what I thought. So I queried it and asked them to look again. They said it was possible. Only Dave Robinson didn’t have a brother, and this time they had a closer look and discovered long telomeres…’ He broke off, seeing her expression. ‘Put simply, DNA strands are copied each time a cell divides, and the telomeres protect the ends of the strands from damage when they divide. Each time a cell divides, the telomeres become a little shorter. The younger you are, the longer the telomeres are likely to be. It’s not an exact science, and can only give an approximate indication of age, which isn’t completely reliable, but the indications are that the DNA sample found on this body, the sample that is similar to Dave Robinson’s DNA, comes from a boy who is young, maybe not yet into his teens.’

Geraldine stared at him in sudden understanding.

‘Dave Robinson has ten-year-old sons,’ she whispered, horrified.

Miles was sure the owner of the DNA had been in contact with the victim after his death.

‘What about before he died?’ Geraldine asked.

‘It’s impossible to say. But there was definitely contact after death.’

Geraldine struggled to accept what he was saying.

‘So just to be clear, you’re positive the young boy was there after the man died.’

‘Yes.’

‘How can you be sure?’

‘There are flecks of the boy’s dandruff on the dead man’s face and a few landed in his eye. If he’d still been alive, he would have blinked and at least washed them down inside his eyelid, but they were right there, on his iris and one on his pupil. So the boy must have been standing above the body, perhaps leaning over it, after he died. But whether or not he was there when the murder took place, well that’s for you to discover, isn’t it?’

‘Off the record, what do you think?’

‘It’s impossible to say.’

‘Are you telling me a ten-year-old boy was involved in this man’s death? A ten-year-old psychopath killed his father and then Robert Wright, hitting them on the head?’ Geraldine shook her head in disbelief. ‘Could a ten-year-old be strong enough to overpower grown men like that?’

‘Presumably he would have taken them completely by surprise.’

‘Even so, would he have the physical strength?’

‘That depends on the size and power of the boy.’

Geraldine thought about Caroline’s twin boys. They had struck her as fairly slight. But there were two of them. The possibilities were growing more terrible by the minute.

‘I thought you’d be interested.’

‘Thank you,’ she muttered.

Interested wasn’t the word she would have chosen to describe her feelings.

57

Returning to the station,
Geraldine decided to investigate Robert Wright’s background. She was hoping to discover a connection between him and Dave Robinson’s family. First she wanted to question Joe Wright who had reported his son missing the previous day. She went to find the sergeant who had taken the report. When he heard what she wanted to talk about, he became instantly defensive.

‘How was I to know the bloke had been murdered? This man comes in to say his son’s gone missing for the weekend, but a grown man going off for the weekend is hardly a reason to go raising the alarm, is it? I told him, there’s plenty of blokes go off for a few days, especially at the weekend. There’s nothing suspicious about it.’

‘Why did he come in to report him missing? It seems a bit of an overreaction. Robert Wright was a grown man.’

‘That’s what I thought, but his father said he was upset about him disappearing like that, on account of his wife, Rob’s mother.’

‘What about his wife?’

He explained what the dead man’s father had told him. ‘OK, so his wife’s sick, and his son shouldn’t have gone off without telling them where he was, but there was nothing to suggest a crime had been committed. I wish I hadn’t now, but I told his father to go home and not worry about it. I said I was sure he’d turn up. And now this. How was I to know the bloke had been murdered?’

Geraldine gave him a reassuring smile. ‘You did nothing wrong. Like you said, you weren’t to know something had happened to him. Now, where’s the father’s details? And has he been informed?’

Learning that the dead man’s father had not yet been told about the murder, Geraldine decided to deliver the news herself. Before setting off, she conducted a brief investigation into the victim’s background. Apart from a natural curiosity about a possible connection between Rob and Dave’s sons, knowing a little about the dead man might help her to deal sensitively with his father. A bricklayer by trade, Rob was currently unemployed. The van in which his body had been discovered belonged to him. Besides the body, there were several cans of white paint, a bag of old sponges, and two large plastic buckets in the back of the van. She suspected the dead man had been moonlighting, doing odd jobs for cash. Whatever his activities while alive, he had never had any dealings with the police during his lifetime.

Before she had time to check his father’s details, the desk sergeant called her. Rob’s father had returned to the station demanding to know what the police were doing to find his son.

‘He’s not happy,’ the sergeant warned her.

‘I’ll come over there straight away.’

She hurried down to the interview room where the sergeant had put Joe. He was sitting on a chair, gazing listlessly at the floor. He was thin, his bowed shoulders narrow inside a black jacket, his grey hair lank and greasy. Geraldine greeted him softly. When she introduced herself, Joe looked up at once. His eyes were bloodshot. Just in time, Geraldine remembered that Joe wasn’t upset about his son’s murder, but about his wife’s illness. He hadn’t yet heard that his son was dead.

‘Joe,’ she said gently, ‘I’m afraid I have some bad news for you.’

‘Is it my wife? I knew this would happen. She’s dying, and he isn’t even here. Where is he?’ His face twitched in agitation. ‘Is she dead yet? I need to get there.’

‘This isn’t about your wife.’

‘Not about my wife? What then?’

‘I’m afraid I have some bad news about your son.’

‘Rob? Where is he? I’d rather he had the balls to come and tell me himself if he can’t take it. It’s not easy. It would be typical of him to bugger off…’

‘Your son’s not gone anywhere.’

‘What do you mean? Where is he then?’

‘Joe, I’m really sorry to tell you your son’s dead.’

A shocked silence followed her announcement. Geraldine sighed, but there was nothing for it but to press on.

‘I’m afraid your son’s dead,’ she repeated.

This time Joe shook his head. ‘No,’ he whispered. ‘That’s not right. It’s not him. It’s my wife. She’s the one…’ His voice tailed off and he stared at Geraldine with growing trepidation.

Viewing the dead didn’t upset Geraldine unduly. They were past pain and misery. The people left behind were the ones who disturbed her, the ones whose torment would never end, as long as they lived. She spoke as gently as she could.

‘I’m afraid it’s true, Joe. Your son’s dead. He didn’t abandon you and his mother. He hasn’t been to the hospital because he’s dead.’ She paused before adding helplessly, ‘I’m sure he’d be here for you if he could.’

Joe seemed to gather himself together. His shoulders lowered slightly and he raised his head to look Geraldine in the eye. His voice remained steady as he asked what had happened. Geraldine hesitated to spell it out. Joe was already so vulnerable.

‘We’re investigating the circumstances of your son’s death…’

‘Investigating? What do you mean, investigating? Was he – is he – what happened? Tell me.’

Geraldine took a deep breath. ‘Your son was discovered in the back of his van yesterday evening. He was dead.’

‘Oh my God, this is so sudden. Was it his heart? I had no idea he was sick. He never said anything about it.’

This was the worst part of the job. Geraldine cleared her throat. There was no way to soften the words.

‘We have reason to believe your son may have been murdered.’

The words were out. For a split second she was almost relieved that she had said it. Then Joe covered his face with his hands and let out a muffled howl. Geraldine waited. After a few seconds, he looked up at Geraldine with tormented eyes.

‘What am I going to tell my wife?’