The eleventh grave, p.12
The Eleventh Grave, page 12
She rested her head on his shoulder. ‘You’re too good to me.’
‘I know.’ He chuckled, then kissed her hair. ‘How did it go today, anyway? Any progress?’
‘Not really. Bloody frustrating week, to be honest.’ She yawned again. ‘And to think, when Kennedy gave us this one we thought it was just going to be a box-ticking exercise for a delayed drowning.’
‘Definitely not an accident then?’
‘No, most definitely not.’
‘They’re not saying much about it on the news. I had the radio on while I was working on that house extension over near Garford, and they didn’t mention it once.’
‘That’s because Kennedy and the media team haven’t got anything to tell them.’ She straightened, squeezed his thigh and took another sip from her can before leaning back amongst the cushions once more. ‘And nobody except us and the doctor at the hospital knows about the other details – we’re keeping all of that close to our chests until we know more.’
Scott smiled. ‘Don’t worry, I know better than to ask.’
‘Hey, while I think of it – are you still playing football next week? The way this is going, I might not be able to make it.’
‘No problem. It’s only a dads versus lads game because there are no league matches next week. Some of their friends that are on the junior teams will be there anyway.’
‘Oh, okay. Good.’ Jan heard a car door slam outside, and then the front gate creaked on its hinges. ‘That’ll be the food. Do you want to give the boys a shout while I dish up?’
She followed him from the living room, then paid the delivery driver while Scott jogged upstairs, his voice carrying down while she took the bag of food through to the kitchen.
It smelled divine, and her stomach rumbled at the thought of a steaming hot plate of noodles, crispy seaweed and spring rolls.
Dividing the spoils between four plates, she glanced up as Luke and Harry appeared. ‘Having fun, you two?’
‘Yeah,’ Luke said, walking past and making a beeline for the sink. He washed his hands, leaving the tap running for his brother, then wandered over. ‘Which one’s mine, that one?’
‘No, cheeky. That’s your dad’s one. That’s yours. Do you want another spring roll?’
‘Yes please.’
‘Harry – here you go. This one’s yours. Can you take cutlery through for everyone?’
‘Will do, Mum.’
Jan drained the last of her beer and put the can in a plastic crate with other recyclables next to the back door, then grinned as Scott reappeared. ‘This was such a good idea. I didn’t fancy cooking tonight, did you?’
‘No – and we’re going to need to do a supermarket delivery order if you’re working this weekend, too. I’m working tomorrow as well.’
‘Don’t worry, I’ll go online after this and sort it out.’
She picked up her plate, then paused as her mobile phone began to ring where she had plugged it in to charge beside the microwave.
Scott froze, and looked over his shoulder. ‘Do you need to get that?’
She saw Alex’s number and padded back to the kitchen. ‘Unfortunately, yes. Hi, Alex?’
‘Sorry, Jan,’ said the young detective. ‘It’s just that Becky’s away for a long weekend with friends and none of my mates are around so I thought I’d work late tonight.’
‘Right…’
‘And so I figured I’d keep going through the ANPR images we were given. You know, the ones from the hospital car park on Sunday night.’
She put her plate on the kitchen table and picked up a spring roll, eyeing the rest of the meal with a pained expression. ‘Do you need me to come in?’
‘Please. I’ve just arranged for the man in the security guard’s body cam footage to be brought in for questioning.’
‘What?’ The spring roll froze halfway to her mouth, and she dropped it to the plate. ‘How’d you find him?’
‘He thought he was being clever – he’d tried to hide his face using a baseball cap when he was driving out of the hospital car park, but the barrier took its time to raise so he craned his neck upwards to see what was going on.’
‘Does Mark know?’
‘I’ve already called him, and he’s on his way in. One of their neighbours was heading into town for dinner and gave him a lift, so he said don’t worry about picking him up.’
‘Okay, I’ll be right there.’
She caught Scott’s gaze as she lowered her phone, and he raised an eyebrow.
‘Got that breakthrough you were after?’
‘I bloody hope so, love. I bloody hope so.’
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
The corridor leading to the interview rooms reeked of disinfectant and sweat, despite the cleaners’ best efforts.
No matter whether innocent or guilty, Mark noted that the walk from the front desk and through the security door created anxiety for anyone who wasn’t employed or contracted to Thames Valley Police.
The painted brick walls on either side were stained with age, peppered with faded health and safety posters that sagged at the corners, and the emulsion paint was turning scuffed and peeling where it met the fraying carpet tiles.
The lighting had a strange tone to it that yellowed the skin, making everyone look as if they were fighting off the ’flu, and no sound carried from one end to the other of the passageway, such that he couldn’t tell whether the other rooms were occupied or empty.
He walked past the observation suite, and saw that West was already stationed in front of a pair of computer screens that were linked to the cameras in the interview room, ready to take notes, then he paused and turned to Alex.
‘Tell me what you’ve found out so far.’
The young DC stopped with his hand on the door to interview room five then walked back a few paces to join him. ‘He goes by the name of Lloyd Derrie. He’s been picked up by the St Aldates’ lot a couple of times for aggravated assault, and his ex-wife had to get a restraining order taken out against him three years ago. He lives with his mother out near the Cowley Road, and sometimes works as a labourer. Cash in hand, that sort of stuff.’
‘Social media? Friends?’
‘Just the usual channels, and we haven’t managed to find anything amongst his followers that’s given us a decent lead about how he might be connected to the other bloke seen on the footage so far.’
‘Tell them to keep digging. This is good, by the way Alex. Hell of a breakthrough.’
The young detective’s shoulders straightened a little. ‘Thanks. It was a lucky break though. If he’d looked up just a split second less, I’d have missed him.’
‘But you didn’t.’ Mark closed the manila folder he had been reading through, and thrust it at Alex. ‘So you can lead this one.’
‘Really?’ Alex took the folder as if it were lined with gold. ‘Thanks.’
Pushing open the door to room five, it took Mark mere seconds and over a decade of experience to deduce that the man sitting on one side of the table was going to lie to protect the other man seen in the hospital’s video.
His eyes were a dull grey, just like the sea after a squall, and he looked scared, less assured than someone who would be so bold as to fire a gun at a man and then disappear from the scene in such a practised way that nobody noticed him.
Mark’s young protégé appeared to have come to the same conclusion. He cleared his throat after reading out the formal caution, took Lloyd’s solicitor’s business card with barely disguised disgust, and turned his attention to the man in front of him who picked nervously at a hang nail.
‘Mr Derrie, who asked you to start an argument in the A and E department at the John Radcliffe hospital on Sunday night?’
Lloyd’s Adam’s apple bobbed in his throat before he answered. ‘No one.’
Alex pulled out one of the photographs from the manila folder, an image captured from the security guard’s body camera that clearly showed the thief with the bag of clothing in the background. He shoved it across the table towards Lloyd. ‘How much did he pay you?’
The man’s eyes flickered to the image, then back to Alex. ‘I don’t know him.’
The young detective folded his hands and leaned forward. ‘Why were you at the hospital?’
‘What?’
‘Who were you visiting?’
‘I… I… a friend.’
‘Who? We’ll need a name.’
‘I can’t say.’
‘Okay, well try this, Mr Derrie. We’re investigating the attempted murder of a man who was a patient.’ Alex paused to tap the photograph with his forefinger. ‘In this image I’m showing you, this man here is taking the victim’s clothing from a secure storage area within the A and E department, a storage area that would be difficult for a member of the public to access – unless the security team and staff were distracted for long enough to allow him to do so. At the present time, Mr Derrie, you’re our only suspect in relation to that.’
He let his words sink in, and Mark watched with satisfaction as Lloyd paled, before leaning towards his solicitor and lowering his voice.
The legal representative kept his gaze lowered while he listened, then nodded once and looked at Mark. ‘My client would like it noted on the record that he had nothing to do with the shooting.’
‘Interesting,’ said Mark. ‘I don’t believe my colleague mentioned a shooting taking place, only that we were pursuing this suspect for attempted murder.’
Lloyd Derrie looked as if he were going to be sick. He swallowed, cleared his throat, and then shifted in his seat. ‘I don’t know his name.’
‘How did he contact you?’ said Alex.
‘Through an acquaintance. Someone down the pub.’ Lloyd looked from Alex to Mark and then back. ‘I owed someone a favour. Money. I was told if I just caused a distraction for him that they’d knock five grand off the debt.’ He shrugged. ‘I didn’t have a lot of choice. He threatened my little girl, saying that he’d take her from her school if I didn’t do as I was told.’
‘Who told you that?’
‘Him. The bloke in the photo.’
‘Did he say why he needed you to cause the distraction?’
‘No. And I didn’t ask. I didn’t even know what he was up to until you showed me that. What’s in the bag?’
Alex ignored the question. ‘Where did you meet him?’
‘I got a phone call about an hour before, telling me to go to the hospital and wait in the car park until I got another call. When my phone rang, it was someone different – it was that bloke in the photo I suppose. He told me to get my arse over to the A and E department, told me what he was wearing, and said I had to walk past and ignore him, and then get into an argument with one of the security guards, making sure he had his back to that door.’
‘What happened after this altercation? Where did this man go?’
‘I don’t know. When I turned around, he’d disappeared. Anyway, as soon as they kicked me out, I drove off, just like they told me to.’
‘Did anyone contact you after that?’
‘The bloke from the pub who put him in touch with me. He said the five grand had been wiped off the debt, but if I told anyone about what happened my little girl would get into trouble.’ Lloyd wiped a shaking hand across his mouth. ‘And then your lot fucking arrest me outside the pub, in front of everyone.’
‘Where’s your daughter now?’ said Mark.
‘At her mum’s, in Newbury.’
‘Can they stay somewhere else over the weekend?’
‘I was going to tell the ex to go and stay with her aunt over near Reading.’
‘Okay, well we’ll make sure that happens.’ Mark took down the woman’s details, stepped outside the room and handed them to a passing junior constable. ‘Get a patrol over to Newbury now, and don’t hang about.’
‘Sarge.’
Returning to the interview room, Mark then checked his notes. ‘Mr Derrie, are you absolutely sure that you don’t know who this man is, or what his name is? Lying to us in this matter would have very serious consequences for you.’
‘I’m telling the truth. I’m hardly going to risk my daughter’s life, am I?’ Lloyd said through gritted teeth. He slid the photograph back across the table. ‘The sooner you lot catch this bastard, the sooner I’ll know she’s out of danger.’
Five minutes later, the interview concluded, Mark led Alex into the observation suite while Lloyd Derrie was released on condition that he made himself available for further questioning. The man looked through the open door with a sullen expression as he was led past, his solicitor muttering to him as they disappeared from view.
Mark watched them go, then turned to West. ‘What do you think?’
‘I think he’s terrified,’ she said. ‘That much is certain.’
‘Has someone been sent over to the ex-wife’s house?’
‘Yes.’ She saved the recording, then followed them along the corridor and towards the security door leading out to the custody suite. ‘And I’ll get onto St Aldate’s station once we’re upstairs and ask them which pub Lloyd was arrested at. Hopefully they can send over a team when it opens tomorrow and question the landlord and regulars to see who he’s been talking to these past few weeks.’
Mark pushed through the door, and let Alex and West go ahead of him.
Lloyd Derrie had finished collecting his belongings from the custody sergeant and glanced over his shoulder as he headed for the exit leading onto the Marcham Road. He attempted a sneer, but the worry lines that creased his brow told another story.
Alex waited until the front door swished shut, then turned to them. ‘I’ll deal with the pub aspect, Jan. You’re speaking to that parish councillor first thing, aren’t you?’
‘True, thanks.’
‘When you speak to St Aldate’s, get them to ask the landlord about CCTV but also whether he knows anything about this debt Lloyd was telling us about,’ said Mark. ‘If someone’s lending money around, he might know of others in the same situation as Lloyd that can shed some light on what the hell’s going on. We’ve got nothing to indicate that Barry Windlesham was in debt, have we?’
West shook her head. ‘Caroline went through the balance sheets for the company, and there’s nothing there to suggest he was in trouble financially.’
‘Okay, well in that case––’
A braying horn followed by the screech of brakes carried through the reinforced glass of the front doors.
Mark was already moving, already running.
He burst through the doors, ran down the shallow steps that led to the pavement, and froze for a moment.
One of the double-decker Oxford-bound buses was slewed to a standstill a hundred metres away, its four-way indicators flashing.
‘No…’ He could hear Alex and West in his wake, their footsteps pounding the road as they zigzagged around the frozen traffic, skirting around motorists who were climbing from their cars, craning their necks to see what was going on. ‘Stay with your vehicle, sir. Excuse me, out of the way please.’
He already knew what he would find before he reached the front of the bus.
The driver was standing in the ghostly beam of the headlights, her face pale. ‘He came out of nowhere. I didn’t have a chance to stop. I…’
‘It’s okay,’ Mark put a hand on the woman’s shoulder and gently turned her away, leading her towards West who, to her credit, merely nodded to him before guiding the driver towards the relative privacy of the police station.
Then he walked back to the front of the bus.
Lloyd Derrie’s face had been obliterated by the impact. His broken body lay sprawled across the asphalt, his limbs splayed at impossible angles.
‘Fuck,’ he murmured, then turned at the sound of laboured breathing to see his younger colleague, eyes wide.
Alex swallowed as he took in the utter destruction, then managed a strangled croak. ‘Was it something I said?’
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
Mark shoved a mug of coffee under Alex’s nose and placed a hand on his shoulder.
‘Here, drink this. Plenty of sugar.’
The young detective sniffed, then did as he was told and winced. ‘You weren’t kidding. What happened, guv? What did I do wrong?’
‘Nothing,’ said Kennedy, his voice gruff. ‘I’ve watched the replay of the interview, and it was faultless. As are you. Whatever happened out there tonight was not due to anything you said or did, understand?’
Alex nodded, his face glum. ‘It still doesn’t change the fact that we’ve lost our only decent lead though, does it, guv?’
‘It doesn’t,’ said the detective inspector. ‘So we’d better hope St Aldate’s get some results speaking with that pub landlord and his clientele in the morning.’
Mark wandered over to the window overlooking the Marcham Road and poked his fingers through the Venetian blind, careful not to expose his face while he peered through.
Lloyd Derrie’s body had been removed twenty minutes ago, after Gillian Appleworth had attended the accident scene and signed off the required paperwork, her face grim.
Now, a temporary traffic diversion was being set up outside while a team of investigators surveyed the area in preparation for the report that would have to be filed.
The flashing blue lights of a patrol car pierced the night, casting a strobe-like reflection off the windows of the car dealership showroom on the opposite side of the road and illuminating the faces of the dozen or so people working to gather as much evidence as possible so that the road could be reopened by dawn.
Mark didn’t want to contemplate the missives that would be received from Headquarters if their investigation was responsible for closing one of the town’s busiest commuter routes, given that so far they had little to show for all their enquiries.
He watched as a uniformed sergeant accompanied the shocked bus driver to a waiting patrol car that would whisk her home, away from the prying eyes of the crowd that had emerged from the fast-food restaurant and petrol station to see what was going on.
A media statement had been sent out five minutes ago that was circulating on social media within seconds of being released, and Mark had phoned Lucy to tell her he had no idea when he would be home that night.
