Somebody Told Me (28 page)

Jane looked surprised by Wyn’s loquaciousness.

‘And Alvine will go through all the evidence from the Robin Oakley inquiry,’ Wyn continued.

‘You should have seen the look on Walsh’s face,’ Lydia said, her voice deadly serious.

It stunned us all into a momentary silence until I replied. ‘Well, he’ll have an even longer face by the end of tonight once he’s been processed in Cardiff jail.’

I no longer needed alcohol to help me relax. The comfort of knowing Martin Kendall and Jimmy Walsh were safely behind bars was reassurance enough. As Wyn drank more Brains best bitter he even cracked the occasional joke. I saw a new side to Jane who dropped the jaded, tired-of-life halo with simple small talk.

Two hours flew by before we left the bar.

It was a cloudless night and for once I noticed the stars.

When I sat in the Incident Room gazing up at the fuzzy image of Jack Ledley the euphoria from the night before seemed a distant memory. He was a direct link to Jimmy Walsh’s presence in Roath Park the night Bevard was killed. Years of policing allowed a dark veil of uncertainty to drag itself across my mind as I considered the strength of the evidence against Walsh. It reinforced the need to trace Jack Ledley. And now Walsh knew we had the video evidence it made it all the more imperative for him to find Ledley first. After all, if Ledley did become a supergrass then Walsh really was facing the rest of his life behind bars.

The sound of muffled conversation on the stairwell beyond the door broke my concentration and I turned and saw Lydia sharing a joke with Jane. They each gave me a smile of acknowledgement.

‘Morning, boss,’ Lydia said, shrugging off a thick fleece.

Jane perched a tall takeaway coffee beaker on her desk, and tossed her bag under it.

‘We’ve got the uniformed officers who led the search teams in Pontypool arriving soon,’ Lydia said, looking at her watch.

The computers on their desks hummed into life. The monitors flickered as Wyn entered the Incident Room. ‘Did you see the news last night? I’ve never seen so much coverage.’

‘It was only the preliminary remand hearing.’ I wanted to sound authoritative but I could hear the earlier uncertainty creeping into my voice.

Before anyone could reply two uniformed officers barged into the Incident Room. The older one’s shaven head glistened in the artificial light and the younger had a close-trimmed short back and sides. I waved them towards two chairs. They sat down, placed hands on their knees and clenched their jaws.

‘Bring us up to date.’ I couldn’t remember the names of either officer so I spoke to the room. Luckily, Lydia saved my embarrassment.

‘Constable Williams led the team that searched the northern part of the town, sir.’ She nodded at the bald officer who adjusted his position on the plastic office chair.

He took his cue. ‘We went into every shop and pub and bed and breakfast. But we couldn’t find anyone who had seen anyone resembling either Bevard or Ledley.’

‘How many hours have you put into this search so far?’ I could hear the bean counters in headquarters squealing in pain at the overtime. Thankfully, it would be Acting Detective Chief Inspector Hobbs’s problem.

He shook his head slowly. ‘A lot, sir, and I’ve had some of the officers’ team leaders complaining they need them back.’

With police resources scarce and the public demanding value for money, I didn’t blame them. Constable Barclay, who had led the second team, had a similar story. Standing by the board he gave us a guided tour of the town as he glided a hand over the map. We listened for an hour as the officers gave us the details of where they had searched and who they had spoken to. Several of their team had spoken to the same people more than once and a local councillor had grilled two officers about the inquiry. I made a mental note to email Dave Hobbs warning him to tell the public relations department they could expect some disgruntled politicians complaining police time wasn’t being utilised effectively.

‘How much longer do you want us to search, sir?’ Barclay returned to his seat.

Now it was my turn to step towards the board.

I gazed at the map. Pontypool was one of the many post-industrial towns in the eastern valleys still suffering from the recession before last. I stuffed my hands into the pockets of my trousers and pondered.

Barclay continued. ‘It could take us days, maybe even weeks, to find him and we don’t even know for certain he’s there.’

The look of ice-cold anger on Walsh’s face when he was taken down into the cell at the magistrates’ court came to mind. Bernie Walsh would have instructions to find Ledley. She’d have the same person tracking him down that killed Bevard and the reality that I had no idea who was responsible filled me with a sick feeling. I looked over at the photograph of Norcross. I couldn’t ignore his long association with Walsh. I recalled our interview at the start of the inquiry when he denied any involvement in killing Bevard: he needed to be watched. Perhaps I could get Hobbs to authorise a surveillance team. I bowed my head for a moment, anticipating how he might react.

‘We carry on. A man’s life is at risk. At least we know Jimmy Walsh is out of the way so that might make it harder for Bernie Walsh to find Ledley.’

I scanned the team in front of me and read on their faces their determination and agreement with my decision. Other policing priorities would have to wait.

‘I’ll be up there later today.’

I mentally calculated when I might arrive once I had seen my father in hospital. I left Williams and Barclay to finalise the details with Lydia and strode back to my office already composing the emails to Dave Hobbs and the public relations department.

*     *     *

Papa was sitting up in bed when I arrived and Mamma sat on the tall visitor chair by his side. She beamed when she saw me. I found a chair and sat down.

‘We’ve been told Papa can go home,’ she said as though he wasn’t there.

Papa rolled his eyes. He still looked pale and I stared over at him. His cheeks were more sunken and the skin around his mouth was tight. I wanted to say –
are they sure
? Instead, I smiled and said, ‘That’s great news. Is there going to be any follow-up treatment?’

‘He needs to take things easy for a few weeks.’ I could see her relishing the possibility of having him home where she could keep an eye on him. ‘Then he has to start some exercise – walking and swimming is good.’

A few weeks at home would drive Papa mad, and what would happen to the business in the meantime? There was a resigned look on his face that implied he was agreeing to humour his wife for now.

Small talk filled another twenty minutes before an agitation gnawed at my mind that I needed to be in Pontypool.

‘Hello, John.’

I recognised Jackie’s voice immediately.

I stood up and kissed her briefly on the cheek. This time I lingered. Her perfume was delicate, full of warmth; it reminded me of our recent night together. As I went to find another chair, I noticed the grin on my mother’s face.

‘I had the second interview this morning, John.’ She sat down and gave my mother a smile of acknowledgement. ‘I start next month.’

‘That’s good news,’ I said.

‘Congratulations,’ Papa said.

Jackie turned to me. ‘I heard all about that man Walsh on the TV. Does it mean the case is over?’

I glanced at my parents in turn, knowing the answer they wanted to hear.

‘Of course.’ I hoped I sounded convincing. Then I wondered if Lydia, Williams, and Barclay were making progress.

An odd uncomfortable feeling overcame me as we sat there discussing hospital food and the television from the night before. Jackie was my ex and although we appeared to have rekindled something I wasn’t certain if I wanted it to. Mamma certainly did but she had never really liked Tracy. ‘I need to get back to work.’

Mamma smiled again. ‘Papa will be discharged tomorrow, John.’

‘I’ll call tomorrow night.’

Jackie got up too. ‘I’ll walk out with you. I’ve got to drive back to Basingstoke today.’

We walked out of the ward and headed for the lifts. ‘John.’ Jackie touched my arm. ‘I wanted to tell you that it was really special the other night.’

We reached the open landing by the lifts where visitors were waiting.

There was a fondness in her eyes I hadn’t seen for years. It made me wonder what I had missed in those wasted years when I spoke to the bottom of a pint glass more often than to her. A message arrived on my mobile as I wondered how to reply.

Get back to QS – Walsh has been released.

‘What the fuck happened?’

I grasped the top of the chair tightly. Desmond Joplin sat opposite me at the conference table, avoiding my gaze. Hobbs balled his fingers into a tight fist. As he sat down he waved me to a chair but I couldn’t sit so I paced around the room.

Joplin gave a dry cough and then cleared his throat. ‘A judge released him on bail. Walsh’s lawyers argued that the quality of the recording was so poor it could not be relied upon.’

My mind raced. Only a circuit judge could have considered an appeal from the district judge in the magistrates’ court.

‘Who was the judge?’

‘Does it matter?’ Hobbs said.

‘It was one of those part-time judges.’ Desmond sounded despondent. ‘Walsh’s lawyers managed to get him to hear their appeal because he was finalising something else in court this morning.’

‘He needs to be taken out and shot.’ Both men looked up at me startled. ‘You know what I mean … This is so wrong.’

I stood by the window and stared out into the dull grey afternoon. Forecasters promised rain later and in the last week the temperatures had dropped a few degrees. Soon enough the investigation was going to get much colder too. ‘Walsh killed Oakley – no doubt.’

‘We know that, John.’ Hobbs managed to sound supportive.

‘And he was responsible for the death of Bevard …’

Joplin piped up. ‘But there is no evidence.’

The sky darkened and the first drops of rain fell.

‘Walsh is subject to a night-time curfew,’ Joplin said.

It sounded conciliatory.

‘It means he has all day, every day to find Ledley.’

I walked over to the table and stared over at Hobbs. ‘I’ll need another team of officers for the search in Pontypool. And a team keeping tabs on Walsh.’

Hobbs parted his lips but said nothing, realising his contribution would be unwelcome.

‘And a team following Norcross.’ I didn’t wait for Hobbs to object and I left.

Lydia, Jane and Wyn all stood up when I entered the Incident Room and gave me troubled looks.

I marched over to the board. ‘I’ve got more officers for the Pontypool search.’

There were grudging nods of approval. ‘We need to find Ledley.’

I listened as Wyn recounted his exploration into Ledley’s family background. It had been a fruitless search so far. We knew he had been born in Lowestoft on the east coast of England but then nobody knew why he had arrived in Cardiff. Wyn had called the police in the Suffolk town and they’d reported that he had no family there and nothing was known about him.

‘What brought him to Cardiff?’ I said.

Nobody answered.

‘Lydia, you’re with me – let’s go back to Pontypool.’ I looked over at Wyn and Jane again. ‘I need you both to be going over everything about Ledley. If he’s a likely supergrass then Bevard’s death has got to be the biggest motivation possible for him to come forward and implicate Walsh.’

I reached for my car keys, found my jacket and headed out for Pontypool.

Lydia settled into the passenger seat but although it was her turn to choose a CD she must have realised it wasn’t the time for opera. I powered the car along Newport Road and on towards the motorway.

On the motorway, I switched on the police lights and accelerated into the outside lane. Traffic cleared out of our way and soon I reached the junction for Cwmbran. I indicated left and as we slowed for the increasing traffic, my impatience grew. The journey along the A4042 dragged. Lydia commented about the vagaries of the judicial system but I said little. Eventually I pulled into the car park of the police station in Pontypool and we hurried into a conference room. I recognised Williams and Barclay but none of the dozen or so others were standing around the room. They stiffened from their relaxed postures as I strode in. A map with large circles drawn on various parts had been pinned to the board against a wall with an image of Ledley pinned to one side.

‘The original teams are still out there,’ Williams said. ‘There is a new team of lads from Eastern Division. And there might be more arriving later.’

The young faces in front of me looked to be straight out of the training academy.

‘We’re looking for a man called Jack Ledley.’ I pointed at his image. ‘He’s a person of special interest in an ongoing murder inquiry.’ Several intense stares bored into me. ‘His life is at risk and we need to find him.’ I turned to Lydia and she gave me a photograph of Jimmy Walsh. I pinned it under the image of Ledley. ‘And if you see Jimmy Walsh around call me at once. He is dangerous. And if anyone tells you that someone else has been asking for Ledley then call me.’

There was nervous blinking now and clenching of jaw muscles. Once the officers left I walked outside and put a cigarette to my lips. The police station in Pontypool had survived the modernisation programme of the Wales Police Service and I guessed that it was a political decision more than operational imperatives from the cramped and old-fashioned premises I had seen that morning.

Smoke scoured my windpipe and I pulled my jacket collar nearer my face. Winter was around the corner but for now I could still smoke outside. The citizens of Pontypool paid me little attention as they wandered past the police station. A pair of elderly women were deep in conversation outside a charity shop and several men walked past me with dogs on leashes. I ground the butt of the cigarette under my shoe and walked back inside.

Lydia was alone now in the conference room making notes and staring at the board. ‘I think we might extend the scope of the search. We’ve been focusing on Pontypool because Bevard bought stuff in that shop. But we could extend the search south to Griffithstown.’