Destruction of Evidence (24 page)

‘I’ll accompany whoever goes to Constable Smith’s house,’ Trevor said.

‘I suggest Paula Rees as she knows the location of the key. Carol March and myself will go with her.’

‘If it’s an outing, can I come?’ Peter chimed.

Reggie gave him a withering look and left.

‘Stop winding up the locals,’ Trevor ordered. He sat behind his desk and started reading.

11.55 pm Call logged at station. Mrs May Williams, Main Street complained of disturbance outside Angel Public House. Constables Smith and Rees contacted and ordered to attend.

12.05 a.m. Tim Pryce, landlord of Angel and Ken Lloyd deposit Larry Jones (comatose drunk) in archway leading from Main Street into Angel yard. Tim Pryce and Ken Lloyd talk to Michael Pitcher and Alison William, who are driving to Bryn Houses on outskirts of town to hous- sit Alison’s parent’s house.

12.10 a.m. Michael Pitcher and Alison Williams drive out of Main Street. Constables Smith and Rees arrive. Constables check Larry Jones who is unconscious and breathing normally. Larry Jones has history of drunken violence, decision is made by Constables Smith and Rees to leave Larry Jones in yard to sleep off effects of alcohol.’

Trevor looked at Peter. ‘Would you have left Larry Jones where he was?’

‘If the only option was putting him in a squad car that I had to clean – probably.’

‘Knowing he had a history of violence when drunk?’

‘It was never a question for us when we were on the beat. We used to send for the van. And it was simple enough to hose that down.’

Trevor recalled one memorable incident when a newly appointed Constable Peter Collins had hosed down the van – or drunk tank as it was known in the station – with the pick-ups inside. They’d had a rude awakening. Peter defended his action by insisting the passengers were so heavily soiled by vomit, urine and faeces they would have posed a health risk to the officers in the station.

To the admiration of every other rookie Peter had been given a caution and verbal reprimand – nothing more.

Constables Smith’s and Rees’s shifts finished at midnight. Constable Smith enters Angel with publican Tim Pryce to discuss Mrs May Williams’s complaint. Constable Rees returns car to station prior to going off duty.

‘No mention of putting in an incident report,’ Peter commented.

‘Reggie admitted the report system here is lax. She told me it depended on the preference of the duty sergeant.’

‘Lazy sods. I wonder how long Tim Pryce and Dai William’s “discussion” of May Williams complaint took. If they talked about it all, I bet it was no more than a casual “interfering old bat”.’

‘Now you’ve answered your own question, can we finish reading this?’ Trevor turned the page.

12.15 a.m. Constable Rees leaves Angel in squad car. Constable Smith and Tim Pryce enter Angel. Ken Lloyd leaves Main Street to walk to river.

2.53 a.m. clock stops in attic of Pitcher house. Due to fire?

2.55 a.m. Ken Lloyd sees flames in attic (fifth floor from back of house) of Pitcher house from bank of river. Sees and hears fire blow out window in kitchen of Pitcher house (third floor from back of house). Sees someone descend fire escape.

2.57 a.m. clock stops in cellar of Pitcher house. Due to fire?

3.00 a.m. Ken Lloyd calls emergency services from river bank on his mobile.

3.02 a.m. Tim Pryce calls emergency services. Woken by blast and glass falling from Pitcher house, sees fire in attic and kitchen of Pitcher house from window of private living quarters in Angel.

3.04 a.m. Emergency services call local police station and fire station. Sergeant Frank Howell responds and sends all available officers to Main Street. Sergeant Howell leaves to make assessment of fire at back of Pitcher house.

3.06 a.m. Tim Pryce enters back lane behind Pitcher house.

3.12 a.m. Sergeant Howell enters back lane behind Pitcher house. Meets Tim Pryce. Fires are burning on cellar, attic and kitchen floor (at back of house – ground, third and fifth floor). Situation volatile and dangerous. Windows blowing out.

3.13 a.m. ambulance and paramedics park in Main Street at safe distance from Pitcher house.

3.15 a.m. 1st fire tender arrives in back lane. Officers assess situation and order evacuation of street. Sergeant Howell and Tim Pryce go to Main Street to implement evacuation of neighbouring houses and Angel pub.

3.18. a.m. Fire tender 2 arrives in Main Street. Officers axe front door of Pitcher house and proceed to fight fire. Tim Pryce and Sergeant Howell arrive in Main Street. Dr Edwards (local physician) offers professional service. Dr Edwards waits in Main Street with police officers, paramedics and Tim Pryce. Evacuation of street underway. Sergeant Howell acts on information given by Tim Pryce and sends for Michael Pitcher. Short of officers he enlists help of respected local medical consultant.

3.25 a.m. Ken Lloyd arrives in Main Street, informs Police and Fire Officers of likely location of family in Pitcher house. Fire Officers act on information.

3.30 a.m. Sergeant Howell asks Tim Pryce to set up rest centre for Fire Officers in pub.

3.32 a.m. Fire Officers enter master bedroom on second floor front of Pitcher house (from Main Street) discover one corpse, later identified as Gillian Pitcher.

3.40 a.m. Chief Fire Officer Huw Thomas arrives in Main Street.

3.50 a.m. Superintendent Moore arrives in Main Street.

4.25 a.m. Michael Pitcher and Alison Griffiths arrive in Main Street. Driven in by Henry Clarke consultant surgeon (neighbour of Alison’s parents).

4.40 a.m. Larry Jones found asleep in derelict stable at back of Pitcher House.

4.50 a.m. Larry Jones’s hands and feet bagged. Matches, cigarettes, lighter, cash, gold clip and jewellery taken from attic of Pitcher house (according to Michael Pitcher’s statement) found on his person.

‘No mention of police officers carrying weekend bags.’ Peter set his file aside.

‘Did you expect there to be?’ Trevor asked.

‘I live in constant hope of my fellow officers being as efficient as me and in constant disappointment when they fail to live up to my standards. What we need is a timeline covering the movements of every officer in this station that night.’

‘Thank you for volunteering to draw it up.’ Trevor looked at him over the edge of his file.

‘I didn’t and I won’t, because a wise man once told me never to volunteer for anything.’

‘And another man – if not a wise one – told me that he didn’t want to stay in Wales any longer than he had to. Unless, that is, you’ve seen something here to change your mind?’ Trevor said archly.

Peter didn’t take the bait. ‘I suppose you do need someone from outside the station to draw it up.’

‘You’ve been talking to the locals…’

‘What’s that supposed to mean?’ Peter broke in testily.

‘The file.’ Trevor tapped his. ‘You brought them in, remember? Is there any news on Michael Pitcher?’

‘No one’s mentioned him.’

‘I’ll bring his condition up at the briefing.’ Trevor opened his laptop case, removed a pad and scribbled a note.

‘Sir.’ Paula knocked on the door and carried in a tray of coffee and biscuits. ‘Sergeant Collins said you drink your coffee black. And you prefer chocolate digestives to plain biscuits.’

‘What Sergeant Collins meant, Constable Rees, is that he prefers chocolate biscuits to plain.’ Trevor set the timeline on the desk.

‘And you don’t?’ Peter picked up one of the cups of coffee from the tray and added sugar.

‘Superintendent Moore’s put the briefing back until twelve o’clock, sir, so you can go to Constable Smith’s house. She told me to tell you that she has some calls to make but hopes to leave in ten minutes. And, Mr Gant’s asking if you’d like him to make a preliminary report on the findings in the Pitcher house during the briefing. He said he should be free at midday.’

‘Yes please to Mr Gant. I take it you’re coming to Constable Smith’s house with us?’

‘The Super asked me to, sir.’

‘You knew him well.’

‘Only through work. I’ll get a message to Mr Gant, sir.’

‘Thank you, and after you’ve done that could you come back here and answer a few questions, Constable.’

‘Bring your own coffee when you do and thank you for this.’ Peter handed Trevor a cup, black without sugar the way he drank it.

‘Sir.’

Peter watched her leave. ‘Do you want me to go to Smith’s place with you?’

‘Yes. Another pair of eyes is always useful.’

‘Do you think Smith’s involved in the murders?’

‘It’s a possibility.’

‘The locals are in this up to their necks. That’s why Ice Drawers sent for us. The only question I’m asking is this: does Ice Drawers hope we’ll discover the truth or does she want us to play dumb and go along with the Larry Jones charade so murdering coppers can continue pounding the Welsh beat?’

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Paula appeared nervous when she returned to Trevor and Peter’s office. Peter pushed a chair in between Trevor’s desk and his own and she sat down.

‘Does Dai Smith live far from the centre of town?’ Trevor shook his head when Peter offered him the biscuits.

‘About a ten-minute walk,’ Paula answered. ‘He lives in a converted barn on the hill behind Main Street.’

‘You get on with him well?’ Trevor reached for his coffee.

‘Reasonably well, sir. We’ve been working together for about six months and this is a small station.’

‘Do you know his wife?’

‘I’ve baby-sat for them on occasions, but I wouldn’t really say that I was friendly with her.’

‘You usually do the driving at work?’ Peter chipped in.

‘Not always,’ Paula replied. ‘Dai and I take it in turns.’

‘Have you any idea where Dai Smith could have gone?’ Trevor monitored her reaction.

‘No, sir. We work together but we’re not that close.’

‘You never socialised with him or his family?’

‘As I said, I baby-sat for him and his wife occasionally, on special occasions, like their wedding anniversary and birthdays. And I saw him sometimes outside work, in a pub or one of the restaurants in town.’

‘Who was he with?’

‘Usually a group of men.’

‘Not his wife or another woman?’ Trevor persisted.

‘No man would go out with a woman in this town who wasn’t his wife, sir. The gossips would have him in the divorce courts before he even got home.’

‘So who were these men?’

‘Fellow officers or men from the town. Dai was in the darts team and he used to play ruby but he gave it up after his daughters were born.’

Trevor referred back to the timeline. ‘When you went to the Angel with Dai Smith to answer the call Mrs May Williams made, you were off duty as your shifts had finished at twelve o’clock.’

‘It was the last call of the day and we knew it wouldn’t take long.’

‘Why’s that?’ Peter took his fourth biscuit and moved his chair closer to Trevor’s desk.

‘If there’d been a real problem in the Angel the landlord would have telephoned us himself,’ Paula said defensively.

‘There’d been trouble there before?’ Peter suggested.

‘No, sir, Tim Pryce has a cool head. He avoids problems by banning troublemakers.’

‘He’s never asked the locals for help?’

‘As far as I know, only when the pub’s been broken into but I’ve only been a constable for a year.’

‘If Tim Pryce had been busy dealing with the disturbance he might not have been able to telephone the station. So how could you be so sure that the call wouldn’t take much of your, and,’ Peter glanced at the timeline again, ‘Dai Smith’s time?’

‘We shouldn’t prejudge situations, sir, but the complaint was made by Mrs Williams. She phones the station at least a dozen times a week. In fact she telephoned the morning before the fire. I took the call. She reported a cat sitting on the roof of the Pitcher’s house.’

‘Did you call the Fire Brigade?’ Peter lifted an eyebrow.

‘No, sir. But Mrs Williams rang an hour later to say that the cat had disappeared.’

‘Did you take credit for spiriting it away?’

Paula looked bemused, as people generally did when they were exposed to Peter’s odd sense of humour.

Trevor took control of the conversation. ‘As you’re here, Constable Rees, it might be as well to go through your movements on the night of the fire. You haven’t seen Constable Smith since the morning after the fire, is that right?’

‘Yes, sir, but I’d rather you discussed Constable Smith’s absence with Superintendent Moore, sir.’

‘I’m checking facts, not asking for speculative comment about Constable Smith’s absence. When you and Constable Smith arrived at the Angel, you saw Larry Jones lying under the archway that leads into the yard of the Angel Hotel?’

‘He wasn’t lying down, sir. Tim had propped him against a drain pipe. He said he was concerned that Larry might vomit and choke.’

‘A publican who knows how to look after his regulars.’ Peter helped himself to yet another biscuit.