Reprobates (33 page)

Vicky had spent time with Chief Superintendent Hugo-Watkins going over what he thought she might come up against at the future promotion boards. Dylan insisted she kept the appointments no matter what was happening on the enquiries.

He also took time to talk to her about promotion boards from his own experience.
‘Don’t think like a detective Vicky, that’ll get you nowhere. You need to think like a uniform supervisor. Don’t forget to include health and safety and other relevant issues that might present themselves, and be sure to leave nothing to the imagination. Presume the evaluators know nothing in the scenarios they set, sometimes in my experience they don’t,’ he chuckled. ‘Above all be confident and on no account use one of your casual, throw away comments. Do you hear me?’

She was ready for the next rank, that he was sure. He also knew she would do her best and that was all anyone could ask of her. Soon it would be over and within a matter of days she would know the outcome.

***

Dylan scanned the charts on the walls in his office. He loved detail. His fingers traced a line. His mother had often said his fingers, long and straight, the ungula phalanges bent slightly back, were the fingers of someone with a passion for exactness and she hadn
’t been wrong. He looked about his office. His lever arch files and boxes were as neat as his fingernails. He continued to follow the map around the room and he eventually reached the window. White clouds moved in a blue sky. ‘I am a Detective Inspector,’ he said as he stared out of the window. He was proud of the rank he had reached and only he knew how hard he had had to work for his position and keep it. Fragments of his dad’s philosophy drifted through his head. ‘It is not so much the rank achieved, son, but the way you do the job that matters,’ he said.

Lisa bustled in, some papers in hand.

‘Operation Mallard, Billy Simpson. Some telephone contact results and text messages from his mobile. I’ll get you some coffee. It makes good reading.’ There was a smile at the back of Lisa’s eyes. ‘I think you’re going to be pleased.’

He took the papers from her silently and sat down at his desk to study them.

There was a knock at his office door. Hugo-Watkins entered. Dylan held the documents in his hand, he was in his shirt sleeves. He pushed his chair back and casually rose.

‘
You look very pleased with yourself,’ Hugo-Watkins said.

‘
I am sir, yes,’ he said.

‘
Vicky around?’ he asked.

‘
She should be,’ Dylan said pointing to her desk in the Incident Room.

Hugo-Watkins strolled down the office. There was a first for everything, Dylan thought, a Chief Superintendent walking into a working
Incident Room.’

Dylan smacked his desk with a paper truncheon he
’d made. ‘Brilliant, just bloody brilliant,’ he said as Lisa walked in.

‘
Knew you’d be pleased,’ she said.

‘
Pleased? I can’t stop smiling,’ he said flourishing the baton made out of the paper.

‘
The telephone data not only shows the recent links between Billy and Jane Simpson it also shows us the link to Billy Simpson and Richard Bryant. The essence of which Richard Bryant is telling them both to stay away from Kirsty Gallagher. “I told you stay away from her,”’ he said reading from the paper. ‘The very last one on the eve of Billy Simpson’s death asks, “Are you both in? I’m coming round. I want to know what happened. It’s all your fault Kirsty died. You continue to ruin my life.” That’s damning.’

Whilst Dylan was over the moon with the content of the data he wanted to know why they hadn
’t found this connection before with the information they had on Jane Simpson or Richard Bryant’s telephone data? And also why they hadn’t known before that Billy Simpson knew Kirsty Gallagher? Dylan now had a motive, once disclosed to the defence which it had to be, Perfect and Best would perhaps rethink their client’s approach at Court. Dylan made some telephone calls to try to find some answers for the delay. He would have loved to have had this valuable information prior to the interviews when they had all been produced from prison. But it wasn’t to be. Dylan got a mixed response from the intelligence unit supervisor.

‘
There’s so much going on in the force at the moment,’ he said.

Dylan turned his chair to see the green mould on the bricks on the yard wall.
‘Sickness has played a part and the service providers were hit and miss with their returns, but we get there in the end.’ Dylan struggled with a flare of rage and a fog of acceptance. He wanted to tear a strip off the silly little desk bound Inspector but he knew it wouldn’t change anything. The serious side of this was that it could have meant the difference between charging or releasing the offenders. He drafted a quick report to the ACC Operations outlining the circumstances and the need for the Force to review their approach and staffing levels as a matter of urgency. ‘It may be the difference between life and death if the person reoffended due to incompetence by the force in retrieving intelligence data,’ he said.

The team was eating lunch sat at their desks when Dylan broke the news. He would review the urgently marked enquiries carried out by the investigative teams, in follow up to those enquiries marked as
‘Priority’ like this one had been, so it doesn’t happen again. Mountains could be moved without slamming doors, swearing and throwing things about. Was he mellowing in his old age? The younger Dylan would have been looking for someone’s blood for letting the team down. He now realised that ultimately he was in charge and the responsibility was his for everything that happened or didn’t as the case maybe.

DS George Buck and his team with assistance from PS Simon Clegg and PS Carey Megnicks at Operation Support unit would pick up five known offenders leaving Dylan and his team to concentrate on Brian Fisher.

The date set was for Wednesday, the date of Vicky’s promotion board.

‘
Sorry, Vicky, but it’s how it is. I want you to take some time off. Paul and myself will deal with Fisher.’

***

The smell from the kitchen was delightful as Dylan opened the front door.

‘Starving?
’ asked Jen as Dylan put his briefcase down on the kitchen floor and leaned forward to kiss his wife. Maisy stood at the kitchen chair her face all pink and shiny from her bath.

‘Starving?
’ Dylan pondered. ‘There are several varieties of starvation,’ he said. He looked fixedly down at Maisy. His hands formed a bear’s claw and he swept her up in his arms. ‘I could eat you all up,’ he said blowing raspberries on Maisy’s tummy.

‘
Everything okay?’ Jen said.

‘I
’m fine love, why?’ he laughed.

‘We
’ll you’re not usually home at this time for one...’

‘I
’d had enough for today.’

Jen raised her eyebrows.

Wednesday arrived. Dylan picked up his mobile phone and texted Vicky. ‘
Good luck for today, not tha you’ll need it
,’ he said.

Her reply was instant.
‘
I’d rather be coming with you
.’

‘
Just enjoy it. You can do the job so show ’em how
.’

‘
I’ll see you back at the nick later
.’

‘
Remember, don’t speak to anyone when you’re finished. There will be some candidates still to go in
.’

‘
Give Fisher what for
.’

‘
No worries on that score
,’ he said.

***

Albert Promenade looked dreary when Dylan and his team emerged from Manor Heath on their way to Furze Cottage. The open landscape was wet, bleary grey with rain driving before a vicious, westerly wind. The cream, rough cast walls of the cottage were discoloured with damp and the laurel bushes that formed a southerly edge to the garden shook in a succession of waves.

Dylan was tempted to have the door taken off its hinges but it seemed a shame to ruin it. He wondered what the mood of Brian Fisher would be as he stood waiting on the doorstep for the door to be answered. When Brian Fisher
’s middle-aged wife answered in her curlers, he asked for her husband. Mrs Fisher took off her Marigold gloves and adjusted her apron. She had an air of kindly austerity that would have made some people take her for an old maid.

‘
Wretched weather,’ she said. Her voice was quiet, level and unhurried. She touched her headscarf that kept the hairpins in place. ‘Come in. Brian is in the dining room having breakfast.’

Mr Fisher stood and wiped his mouth with a napkin when he saw Dylan and Paul entering the room. He swallowed something quickly and coughed heartily. His wife went to him and patted him on the back.

‘Don’t fuss, woman,’ he said.

‘
Mr Fisher, Detective Inspector Dylan.’

Brian Fisher nodded his head in short jerky movements.

‘I’m here this morning to arrest you in connection with the removal and disposal of Kirsty Gallagher’s body thereby obstructing the Coroner and also for distributing indecent material,’ he said.

Brian Fisher
’s face drained to the colour of the cottage’s white walls. His wife’s chin wobbled. She gasped and went limp. Paul caught her fall and taking her by the arm he guided her to a sofa. Her brown eyes were turned towards her husband who had gained his composure.

‘
Tracy, a cold cloth please?’ Dylan said.

Mary Fisher held out her arm and whimpered.
‘Brian, how could you?’

Fisher fleetingly glanced at his wife.
‘It’s nonsense. This is absolute nonsense, Mary. I’m calling my solicitor and the Chief, he’s a personal friend you know. Oh, you’ll see you’re making one hell of a bad judgement call here, Inspector.’

‘
Take him away,’ Dylan said to the uniformed officers who were stood in the doorway.

PC Tracy Petterson and PC Fearne Robinson took an arm each and frogmarched him to the car. He protested vehemently.
‘Mary, ring Jerry quickly,’ he said. His voice trailed off as they watched PC Petterson put her hand on the top of his head and urge him into the back of the police car. Mrs Fisher’s eyes met her husband’s and then fell away, but Dylan caught the distant, critical look in them before Brian Fisher was promptly driven away.

***

Mary Fisher stood leaning on the oak door jamb. Her primness swept away as Dylan explained who he was and why they were there. He explained to her that they had a warrant to search the premises. She walked unsteadily into the lounge, sat down on a chair with a thud and flopped backwards, her breathing coming and going in great heaves. ‘A warrant? That can’t be right. Brian’s a pillar of the community.’ She sat up suddenly, listening. The house was silent all but for the hourly chime of the grandfather clock in the hallway.

‘
Can we look in Mr Fisher’s office?’ asked Dylan. He always found it was better to do things with consent. Easing herself out of the chair Mary Fisher stood silently, steadied herself and slowly made her way into the lobby before them. She appeared to have developed a stoop. The detectives followed her stilted movements down the passageway. At one time she stopped and reached out to steady herself by way of the brass standard lamp with a pink shade that matched the wallpaper patterned with rosebuds. Rose coloured scatter cushions lay upon a window seat under an ornate leaded window. The decor was all very gentile. She stopped, looked over her shoulder at the men and eventually turned into the far room on the left. Inside was a large oak writing desk. Against one wall was a three-seater Chesterfield sofa which was opposite a floor to ceiling bookcase. Straight in front of them was a desk on which sat two computers, a desktop and a laptop. Directly above it was a large, signed oil painting, depicting naked well-fed children at their mother’s breast. Dylan couldn’t help noticing in Mrs Fisher’s eyes something that was very like hatred of the modern technology. ‘We will have to take things away, Mrs Fisher. But we will ensure you have receipts for everything we do.’

‘
Alright,’ she said with trepidation. ‘I’ll have to ring Mr Noble, our solicitor, like he asked.’

Dylan realised at that moment that Mary Fisher was just about waking up to what was happening. Her hospitality would no doubt elude her once she had made that call. The last thing he wanted was to have an irate woman to deal with. He smiled knowing full well that she would find out soon enough that her husband
’s friend, Jerry Noble was one of the people on the hit list and at that time also being arrested. He was also only a civil lawyer and would have been no help at all in the criminal case.

Mary Fisher was joined by a neighbour as the team commenced the search and began seizing items. There was no need for Dylan to remain at the house. Reinforcements had arrived to expedite the search in the form of DC Wormald and DC Granger and they were more than capable to do the necessary, which meant that Dylan could return to base and oversee the other enquiries.

He nodded at Karen Ebdon and Stuart Viney who were just arriving in their CSI van as he was leaving.

***

Dylan was pleased to find on his return they had five out of the six prisoners in the net. Fortunately, John James deceased hadn’t destroyed his computers prior to taking his own life by leaping off the motorway bridge. These had been recovered from his house. Dylan spoke to DC Buck, ‘Went like clockwork,’ he said.

‘
And I would have expected nothing less than military precision,’ Dylan replied. Buck grinned from ear to ear of his red bulbous face.

‘You
’ll like this one, Jack, Lance Tenby has just been accepted by us to become a Community bobby and Nigel Smith a Special Constable.’

‘
Why aren’t I surprised, George, when you look at who does the interviews these days and you can’t always blame them, its often the training they get.’

‘I
’ll update you later, Jack,’ he said.

‘
Look forward to it.’ Dylan knew that they would be bailed until such time as they had been able to decipher and download the data on each individual computer. ‘Talking of interviews,’ he said to Lisa. ‘We need to arrange one with Brian Fisher. I wonder how Vicky is doing?’

‘
Janet tells me the Chief Superintendent is there watching via the video link,’ she said. His eyes met hers.

‘Don
’t look so surprised,’ she said with a smile. ‘He does occasionally.’

‘I
’m pleased to know he’s taking an interest. She must be in with a shot.’

***

The interview with Brian Fisher was an important one. If they could get him to talk they both knew he would save them a lot of time. Dylan caught Paul’s eye before they entered the room. ‘You ready?’ he asked.

Paul nodded.

Lin Perfect sat with a stiffness of her neck next to her client in the interview room. To Dylan and Paul’s utter amazement he was frank about his involvement.

‘I
’ve been stupid,’ he said. ‘But I became addicted. What else do you want me to say?’ he asked with eyes full of alarm. ‘They threatened to expose me if I didn’t help them with the removal of Kirsty Gallagher’s body.’

‘
And that is why you were reluctant to sack Derek Harper?’

‘Yes
initially, but then to put you off the scent I sacked him thinking everything would quieten down. I’m not the only casualty of this whole sorry mess. Penny Sanderson was totally besotted by Richard Bryant and would have done anything for him. She was easily led. I can only apologise for my behaviour and accept what punishment is forthcoming, Inspector. You understand I cannot comment on the others, I have family to think of.’

‘
You know Penny Sanderson,’ said Dylan.

‘
Bryant introduced her to me recently. I wondered if she’d be the next target. I have a daughter at university. He knows that. I couldn’t take any chances with them, they were becoming obsessed with killing. No longer were they satisfied with looking at the indecent images.’

He was bailed pending further enquiries.

‘Well, I didn’t expect that,’ Paul said as they watched Brian Fisher shuffle from the room in his coverall.

‘
No, I didn’t expect him of all people to fall on his sword, but it does make our life easier. Just think if everyone rolled over so easily?’

‘
I think he is the only one so far who has actually got the intelligence to see that the evidence we will get from the computer will damn them all. Like he said, he was addicted but once he became involved, the others had him over a barrel.’

***

It had reached five fifteen and Dylan noticed that Vicky had not yet returned from the promotion assessments being held at HQ. There were no messages left for him from her. He hoped everything had gone well. When she did return she looked exhausted from the day’s events.

‘
Well, did you give it your best shot?’

‘
Yes, and as far as I could tell there were no low ballers. Nothing I couldn’t deal with. But who knows if it was good enough?’

‘
I hear Hugo-Watkins was watching.’

‘
He was?’

‘Yes,
’ he said with a glimmer in his eye that Vicky saw was respect. ‘Fisher fell on his sword and admitted his involvement and meeting Penny Sanderson.’

‘
He did? And he was supposed to be in charge of our local mortuary. It beggars belief.’

‘He
’s out on bail.’

‘
None of them should have their freedom after what they’ve done.’

‘
He says the others threatened to expose him for downloading indecent images. His excuse – he was addicted.’

‘Gross. I wish I
’d been there.’

‘
You missed nothing. It was a short confessional.’

‘
Is he married?’

Dylan nodded.
‘And a daughter at uni.’

Vicky turned.

‘Where you going?’

‘I
’m off for a pint,’ she said. ‘You coming?’

‘Can
’t at the moment, and don’t you go getting drunk either. You’ve got to lead by example from now on.’

‘
Yeah, yeah,’ she said waving her hand to him over her shoulder. ‘I’ll get the train home, don’t worry. See you tomorrow.’

***

Dylan walked to his car with two things on his mind. A bottle of wine and a bunch of flowers for Jen. He was pleased with how the day had gone and tomorrow he planned a proper debrief with the team.

As he sat in the car with his mobile in his hand ready to text Jen, he saw Hugo-Watkin
’s car out of the corner of his eye, pulling into the yard. He parked next to Dylan in his own parking bay and got out of his car with the nimbleness of youth.

‘
Been at HQ all day, Jack, watching the candidates for Detective Sergeant. We chose well, in confidence mind,’ he said tapping the side of his nose with his finger tip. ‘Commendable performance by our Vicky Hardacre. I’m glad I put her through. Mum’s the word, Jack, though. Mum’s the word. It’s your promotion assessment in a couple of weeks, Jack, isn’t it? Better get studying. Can’t let the side down,’ he said before walking off whistling.

Dylan shook his head.

***

‘
What are we celebrating?’ Jen asked, when Dylan produced the flowers and wine.

‘Us,
’ Dylan said. He reached for her hand and put it to his lips, and then with sudden tenderness he cupped her face in his hands and kissed her lips.