Separated at Death (The Lakeland Murders) (17 page)

‘Durham sir.’

‘Yes, Durham.’ Robinson sounded dubious. ‘Anyway, I wondered if you knew how many murders that have taken place in and around Kendal since Cumbria came into existence in 1974, and which remain unsolved to this day?’

Hall had a nasty feeling that he could guess the answer.

‘I don’t sir. Certainly none in my time.’

‘Nor in mine, nor in anyone’s come to that. Because there isn’t a single unsolved murder on the books of this station.’

Robinson looked at Hall, and Hall looked back. He could see Robinson’s reflection in the meeting table. Hall wasn’t sure what to say.

They could both hear Hall’s Blackberry buzzing. ‘That might be Ian Mann sir.’

Robinson gestured for Hall to check it, and it was Mann saying that the team would be ready to go in twenty minutes. Hall passed on the news.

‘Well I can’t say that I expected that we’d be searching the home of a well-known and respected local businessman rather than a low-life like Ryan, but I’m sure that you know what you’re about Ian. Our 100% murder clear-up rate is one of the things that the Chief is proudest of, in fact he mentioned it in a slide that he used in an ACPO presentation recently, when they were debating this whole merger business. So you can see how much it means to him, and to all of us.’

As Hall left he knew exactly how soccer managers feel when their Chairman gives them a vote of confidence. But he wasn’t surprised. He knew that this case had already swallowed up far more resources than the force could afford, and that, whatever the outcome, it would have real implications for the uniformed and civilian staff in the year ahead. Some might very well lose their jobs, although he very much doubted that Robinson’s name would feature on any redundancy notice. Because in Hall’s limited experience the people who drew up the hit-lists very seldom appeared on them themselves.

Hall called out to Jane as he walked in to the office, and told her the job that he’d got for her. The Doc was going to be even less happy to have a female DC asking him to send kit away for calibration, and Hall was interested to see how she handled it.

‘I’d suggest that you play the ‘as one scientist to another’ card’ he suggested ‘That might work, well a bit anyway.’

‘But I’m a copper now boss’ she replied. Perhaps that was want she thought he wanted to hear, or maybe she too had already crossed the line between policing being a living and a way of life. Hall knew how that felt, and was beginning to appreciate the price he’d paid for it. But it wasn’t his problem he told himself, and if a bright DC was willing to work 14 hour days indefinitely then that was up to her.

Mann was briefing the search teams. Hall walked over and listened. When Mann had finished he asked Hall if he’d like to say anything.

‘That’s excellent Ian, thanks. Just one thing, let’s lose the body armour shall we? We’re not raiding a crack house. And like Ian says, flag up anything that looks out of place, it doesn’t necessarily have to connect directly to Amy. If you’re in any doubt, put your hand up and we’ll take a look, and there’ll be no piss taking afterwards, no matter what you come up with. This is a murder inquiry remember. OK? Ian, has the suspect been contacted?’

‘Yes, and last I heard he was just coming off the M6 at Junction 37’ said Mann. ‘So he’ll be there before we are. We’ve got a car there already, so he’ll be kept outside until we arrive.’

Mann was taking the Penrith office, and Hall would lead at the house. So he followed the unmarked van round to Hamilton’s house, pulled into the tree-lined drive and parked up. There’d been no press people at the gates, and Hall was relieved. He was quite certain that nothing would be found.

Hall shook Hamilton’s hand, but didn’t say that he was sorry. That didn’t mean he wasn’t though. ‘Would you like to come inside?’ asked Hall. ‘I may get called away, but if you just stay put in one place that will be fine. This might take a bit of time.’

‘How long?’

‘Could be several hours I’m afraid. There’s a procedure that has to be followed, and fingertip searching is a painstaking business.’

‘What do you expect to find?’

‘I can’t talk about that I’m afraid.’

‘Can you talk about my daughter’s funeral then?’

‘Yes, of course. What was it exactly?’

‘We’re not sure which day it will be yet, but we do know that it will be at the Parish Church in Kendal. The school wants to let children attend if they want. I assume that’s OK with you?’

‘Certainly. We don’t have any formal involvement, although myself, my Superintendent and a couple of officers would like to pay our respects if that’s OK with you.’

Hamilton nodded. ‘I’ve asked the school not to let any of the younger ones come though.’

‘May I ask why?’

‘When I was about ten or eleven one of the kids in my class lost his dad, very suddenly, and we all went to the funeral, in the Parish Church as it happens. I was quite near the front, at the end of a row as I remember. Even now I can still see that coffin, and I remember thinking that my friend’s dad was all cooped up inside it, and we were all outside, going to play footie afterwards I expect. I honestly think that was the most formative single moment of my childhood.’

They sat silently on Hamilton’s sofa for a while, both thinking about the same thing. They thought about Amy being in that box, her arms pinned tight by satin folds, and then about all those things she’d never be able to see, experience and feel.

Hall heard his name being called. It was coming from upstairs. He climbed the stairs, not expecting anything very much but glad that the team was following his instructions, and still thinking about Amy’s funeral. A uniformed PC was standing outside Amy’s room, holding a mobile phone in his gloved hand.

‘This is the same make of phone that the Sarge said was missing from the scene sir. And I found it in Amy’s room, hidden in a drawer.’

‘Bag it please’ said Hall. When he thought back on that moment later he’d wonder what he felt. Disappointment? Elation? Or maybe he’d only thought that Amy probably just had two phones.

Hall went back downstairs slowly, and showed Hamilton the phone.

‘Do you recognise it?’

‘It looks like Amy’s phone. I don’t think it’s her sister’s, because I would have heard by now it she’d lost that. Amy must have left it behind when she went out last Wednesday.’

‘That’s not possible I’m afraid. We know that Amy’s phone was used last Wednesday evening, at or near Serpentine Woods, so if it does turn out to be hers then I wonder if you have any idea how it got here?’

‘No, of course not. She must have left it behind.’

Hall didn’t bother explaining again. This was a conversation that they’d need to continue down at the station. For the first time since they’d met Hall looked at Hamilton, and he wasn’t absolutely sure about him. Physical evidence always had that effect on him.

That evening Ryan played computer games with his little brother, and helped him with his homework. Ryan had to go online to find out how to do the maths, but together they got there in the end. His brother looked like he’d do well enough in his exams to get into the sixth form, and with the way the benefits worked their mum had actually encouraged it. That was a first, as far as he could remember she hadn’t given a monkey’s what Ryan did.

Later he walked to the take-away and got them both a Chinese, then sat and channel zapped for an hour or two. At half eleven he got up, put on his coat, then went into the kitchen and took the paring knife from the cutlery draw. He slipped it into his pocket without looking at the blade.

Wayne took ages to come to the door and didn’t seem pleased to see Ryan. But he beckoned him in, walked to the kitchen and came back with a couple of cheap German canned beers, all swirly writing and gas. Ryan was pretty sure that Wayne had been sampling his wares already that evening, but it was difficult to be sure. But he’d have to make his move now anyway.

‘I saw the cops this morning, on that business with the car.’

‘Yeh? What happened?’ Wayne looked as if he was struggling to concentrate, and Ryan hoped that he hadn’t left it too late.

‘Nothing. Bailed again for further enquiries, but they as good as said that it’s all over.’

‘Well done marrer’. Wayne leaned forward and clinked cans. ‘Isn’t that what Adam said would happen?’

‘Yeh. Couple of things were odd though. Thought I better tell you, and maybe you’d want to tell Adam.’

‘What’s that then?’

‘First thing you both might already know, but the gear in that car was shit. Nothing that you could sell. I thought you might want to know, in case someone has ripped you off.’

‘Lucky you.’

‘But doesn’t that seem weird to you? Why would Adam bother to get a ride, pay me to go and get it, and all to bring down gear that we could never move. The car must have cost him a grand on its own, and I can’t see anyone claiming it back from the cops, can you?’

‘He had his reasons’ said Wayne, and Ryan wondered if that meant Wayne knew what Adam was up to, or just wanted Ryan to think that he did. It really didn’t matter.

‘I expect you’re right. And, like you say, there’s no harm done. The other thing  he said probably doesn’t matter then.’

Wayne took some time to take the bait, but eventually he did.

‘What other thing?’

‘You know that CID Sergeant, Mann his name is. Tough looking bastard, grew up round here.’

‘Yes, I know him. Right wind-up merchant he is.’

‘Maybe, but when he was interviewing me he said that they’d found something else in the car that their intelligence people were interested in.’

Wayne suddenly looked more alert.

‘Now why would he say something like that to you?’

Ryan had been expecting that, and it proved that Wayne wasn’t too far gone: because he knew that cops only ever told you things that they wanted you to know.

‘He was explaining to the solicitor that my bail would be even longer than usual. I think that’s when he told her, kind of as an explanation. It was just a few words really, but thought you’d want to know.’

‘We appreciate it.’ Wayne drained his can, crushed it and dropped it by the side of his chair. ‘You still enjoying your holiday? You ready to go back to work again soon?’

‘Yeh. I was just thinking about that. This business with Amy, and the car getting stopped, it really threw me you know. But at times like this it’s good to know who your friends are.’

Wayne was going glassy-eyed, but pulled himself back to the here-and-now.

‘Tell you what Ryan. Come round again tomorrow night, and we’ll see what we can do.’

‘You’ll talk it through with Adam?’

Wayne glanced up, and Ryan wondered if he’d pushed too far.

‘Mebbe I will. But that’s my business. So I’ll see you round here tomorrow night? Be good: and if you can’t be good, be careful.’

Funny, thought Ryan as he walked home, but that’s exactly what my dad used to say to me when I was a kid. So he’d always reckoned it was shit advice.

Jane Francis always knew that she would never have made a diplomat, but when she worked in research that was never a career-limiting problem. Her results were her results, she wrote them up and submitted them for peer revue. And if anyone had a problem with her conclusions then that was OK, even though she didn’t much like it. She’d never been senior enough to develop too much of an ego, and she certainly hadn’t left research because she’d fallen out with anyone.

She’d left because she’d lived the same way since she’d started at UMIST at 18, and by her mid-thirties she’d just had enough of the late night buses to Fallowfield and the nights out on the curry mile. She’d enjoyed her work right to the end, but she just didn’t love it any more. In her twenties she’d believed that she was making a difference: but as the years ticked by she still couldn’t quite see what it was.

And she really didn’t know who was more surprised when she applied to the Greater Manchester Police, her or them. But when she’d managed to persuade them that she didn’t want to go into a scientific section, but to join as an ordinary PC, they eventually put her through the application process.

Jane hadn’t regretted it for a minute since. She’d worried about how she’d cope on the streets, but she was always paired with one of the tougher lads on the relief. She’d been decked a couple of times when she forgot to duck, and had spent one night in hospital under observation, and she freely admitted that she’d been properly scared on quite a few occasions. But at least she was properly something.

The other probationers were all much younger, and after the first couple of times she didn’t join them on their big nights out. They didn’t seem to mind. The cops that she met of her own age always seemed a bit wary of her, even though they were friendly enough.