Riddled on the Sands (The Lakeland Murders) (14 page)

BOOK: Riddled on the Sands (The Lakeland Murders)
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Ian Mann, Ray Dixon and Geoff Atkinson were waiting in the pub when Andy Hall and DS Rachel Skinner arrived. They’d all just finished their lunches, and Hall noticed that only Mann had eaten his side-salad. He introduced Rachel, and only Geoff got up to shake hands.

‘I’m surprised to see you here, Ray’ said Hall. ‘You’re not due to be working today, are you?’

‘No, boss, but I wanted to lend a hand, like. This will probably be my last job, remember.’

‘How could I forget? Let me buy you a drink. Let me buy you all a drink, in fact.’

Only Atkinson asked for a pint. The rest all went for soft drinks.

‘Are you sure, Ray? You’re not on duty, remember.’

‘No, boss, ta. I want to remember this. You know, just how it feels. When you’re on a case, and it’s all a bloody mess and a muddle, and nothing is clear. You start thinking it’ll never come right, and then something happens, something turns up, and you’re off and running again.’

There was silence for a moment. They all knew what he meant. But this was the difficult time, the nervous time, when it still might end up going nowhere at all.

‘Well I’m already off and running, but only as far as the bar’ said Hall, trying to lift the mood.

 

They chatted about the case for half an hour. Rachel noticed that Hall was watching Atkinson carefully, usually when she was talking. She hoped that she hadn’t spoken out of turn about him, because she didn’t know the bloke from Adam.

‘You know there’s a memorial service for Jack tomorrow?’ asked Atkinson. ‘When Ian told Betty that you’d found DNA on that bullet she broke down like, as you’d expect, but afterwards she went and talked to the vicar. They agreed that this was the right time. There’s no hope, and she knows it. Everyone knows it now.’

Hall nodded. ‘Will we be welcome, do you think?’

‘Of course. Betty knows that this one will take some time to sort out. She’s not expecting miracles, or easy answers.’

 

They were still talking about the service when the door opened, and Mann glanced up. Something in his expression made Hall, whose back was to the door, turn round. It was Pete Capstick, and it was obvious that he was already well on the way to being properly drunk. But he still walked steadily enough to the bar, and ordered a drink. When it had been poured, and his eyes had adjusted to the light, he looked round, and raised his glass to Geoff Atkinson.

‘Is this a regular thing?’ asked Hall.

‘Aye’ said Atkinson, ‘but I think it’s probably got worse lately.’

‘Since Jack was shot?’

‘Aye.’

‘He’s been in here each afternoon I’ve been in the village’ said Mann.

‘Talking to anyone?’

‘Not really. He reads the paper, watches a bit of sport on the telly, that’s about it. Has a bar snack sometimes, too.’

‘Hard to see him playing with the big boys’ said Rachel. ‘He looks pretty far gone. They don’t usually work with people like that. Too unreliable, and unpredictable too.’

Hall nodded. ‘Agreed, but if he is mixed up with whatever it is that got Jack Bell shot, whether it’s drugs or not, he might only have played a very minor role. No-one is saying he’s some kind of master criminal. Like we were saying earlier, Rachel, maybe all he was used as was as a guide, or courier. Whether it was his first time or not, he just might not have really understood what he’d got himself involved in, until the guns appeared and the shooting started. So let’s not jump to conclusions. Anyway, let’s enjoy our drinks, then maybe Geoff will show you round the village, Rachel, while I catch up with Ian and Ray.’ Rachel nodded, and downed the rest of her drink. She looked eager to get going, and Hall liked that look. ‘Meet you back here in half an hour, say, Rachel, and I’ll run you back in to town then. I’ve got an appointment with some barbecue tongs later, and I’m under strict instructions not to be late.’

 

Monday, June 24th

 

 

Andy Hall barely stirred when Jane got up. That wouldn’t have happened a couple of months ago she thought, but without the slightest irritation. She wanted to get in to work at daft-o’clock because she’d arranged to have a chat with Nobby Styles. He was like most of the older PCs, very cautious about committing anything much to paper, but always more than happy to talk.

 

They’d arranged to meet at the cafe in the 24 hour supermarket on the edge of town, where lots of the cops took their breaks. Jane didn’t like it any more than most of them did, but with the canteen in the station having been closed years before there wasn’t much choice, if you wanted something to eat at six in the morning.

 

It was turning into another lovely day, and so for once the cafe didn’t seem as over-lit as usual. In mid-winter the glare hurt your eyes. And it was quiet now, too. Jane nodded to a couple of paramedics eating burgers, and wondered briefly how they managed it at that hour. But of course for them it was dinner time now. Nobby saw her, and got up from the table that he was sharing with three other cops. He looked tired, but Jane knew that he was on holiday for a fortnight after this shift.

 

They had their choice of tables, and Jane went and bought them tea. She couldn’t face anything to eat, not so early in the morning, and Nobby had patted his ample gut when she offered him a cake. She’d taken that as a no.

‘So it’s Gary you’re interested in, then?’ said Nobby, when she sat down. ‘I’m surprised you’re interested in that fire, love. I’ve seen barbecues that were more out of control than that.’

Jane smiled. ‘It might connect to something else.’

‘Oh, right.’ Nobby knew better than to ask what. He’d been a copper for well over twenty years, and he’d been a happy PC for every second of that time. And Nobby Styles knew, as well as anyone, that the best way to stay happy in the job was to be good at your own, and not develop the slightest interest in anyone else’s.

‘I’ve known Gary since he was a nipper, Sheila too. To be fair he’s not the worst. Well, I say that, but I suppose I’m comparing him with the most unpleasant twats that I have to deal with, and he’s an angel in comparison with some of them. You know the story, Jane. Rough beginning, no exams, no proper job, then the petty crime.’

‘Petty?’

‘Oh aye. Gary is no sort of criminal mastermind, and there’s no real malice in him, not as far as I know. Decent dad he is too, or so I hear. Obviously he’s away a bit when he gets nicked, but it’s never for anything that draws him more than a few months.’

‘I saw. He seems to have tried a bit of everything over the years.’

This time Nobby laughed, but his eyes still looked tired. ‘Searching for his vocation, like? Aye, something like that. He’s tried burglary, a bit of car crime, shoplifting, bit of low level dealing, even had a go at internet fraud.’

‘I saw. Anything in it?’

‘No. It’s so easy to get hold of cloned credit card details you wouldn’t believe it. He just got hold of a few and tried his luck until we nabbed him. He had the stuff delivered to his auntie’s house, the plank. She’s 87, and it didn’t even take me long to work out who it was who’d actually ordered a Playstation, a laptop and various other goodies.’

‘Do we have a list of who he ripped off?’

‘Aye, it was only three or four. We returned their goods too, most of them, if I remember rightly.’

‘When was this?’

‘Last back end, November, I think.’

‘Were any of the internet traders local, by any chance?’

Nobby thought about it for a moment. ‘No, all down south somewhere. I’d remember if it was local. My geography is useless when it comes to down there though. It’s just one bloody great ring road surrounded by money as far as I can see.’

‘So is Craig Gary active now?’

‘Oh, aye, bound to be. You know what it’s like, when they start they always carry on. One way or another, like.’

‘Doing what, Nobby?’

Styles sipped his tea and watched a tall young woman in a summer dress walk towards the entrance to the supermarket.

‘Does your heart good’ he said.

‘Nobby’ said Jane firmly, ‘I haven’t got all day.’

‘Me neither. We’ve got to be away in five. So Gary, then, and what he’s up to now. Well I don’t think he’s on the rob. Word is that Alan Frostick had a word after he was done for burglary last time. Told him that if it happened again then Gary would only be able to do over places with wheelchair access. And Gary’s got enough sense to watch himself. But I’ll tell you one funny thing though. I did this fun-run for charity a while back.’

‘That is a funny thing.’ Jane was smiling now.

‘I’m doing my best to lose the weight’ Nobby said defensively. ‘The Super gave me and a couple of other lads a lecture about it. Said she expected us to fit into 36 inch waist trousers.’

‘And do you?’

‘Oh, aye, I do, easy. It’s just my gut that doesn’t, that’s all. Anyway, I was doing this run, near the back, because you know what those bloody fell runners are like, all sinews and smug expressions. And bugger me, but who overtook me, right near the end, but our Gary. I was amazed. Fucking astonished in fact. He only believes in self-help, as in helping himself to stuff, but apparently he had plenty of sponsors. I was actually really impressed. Or I was, until I thought about it later.’

‘How do you mean?’

‘Well, look at it this way. What would you expect Gary to do if he found himself with a pile of someone else’s cash?’

‘Nick it.’

‘Exactly. So what if the little bastard just collected five hundred notes, but only handed over fifty?’

‘What was the charity?’

‘Children’s hospice.’

‘Come on, Nobby. That’s a bit harsh, mate. He’s a dad, he was probably just moved, and wanted to help.’

Styles looked far from convinced. ‘Help himself, more like. I’m just saying that I think he might be trying the con game a bit. That’s all. He’d see it as victimless, and unlike some of those bastards I think that actually matters to him. A little bit, anyway.’

‘Anything else?’

‘Not really. I hear he still deals a bit of dope, but real low-level stuff. I think he just buys a bit extra when the two-for-one deals are on, then sells on what him and Sheila can’t smoke themselves.’

Jane nodded. ‘Thanks Nobby. Enjoy your holiday. Where are you going?’

‘Lanzarote’

‘You don’t look all that happy about it.’

‘I’m not looking forward to the flight.’

‘Where are you going from?’

‘Bloody Heathrow. I’d rather bloody walk.’

Jane got up quickly. ‘Cheers, Nobby, you’ve been a big help.’

She walked over to the other table, and swapped cheery insults with a couple of the PCs. Then she nipped into the store and bought a few groceries. She was getting to know what the girls liked to eat, so she could work without a list. And that felt oddly enjoyable.

 

 

Ray Dixon had barely been in for an hour and already he could feel his blood-pressure rising. The office wasn’t air-conditioned, and he could already feel that the back of his shirt was sticking to his chair, and the kids from tech-support were doing his head in. It wasn’t the constant questions, he could deal with those, and almost a quarter were perfectly valid anyway. No, it was the constant stream of conversation between the two lads.  Because not only was it incomprehensible to Ray, but it was also conducted at high volume, because both spent most of their time with headphones glued to their ears. He kept asking them to take them out, but they took no notice. They probably knew that he was for the chop, Ray thought gloomily, and that didn’t help brighten his mood either.

 

But it’s funny how quickly your opinion of someone can change.

‘Ray, Ray’ shouted Matt, the younger and louder of the two, ‘I’ve got something here, look.’

Dixon got up slowly, wondering if he had any pain killers in his desk drawer.

‘What is it this time, son?’

‘How about a call from Capstick’s mobile to a satellite phone, made on Friday evening at 1907?’

‘Fuck off, Matt, there wasn’t any call like that. I have checked you know. I’m not totally a total bloody techno-whatsit.’

‘You checked his registered SIM, but I’ve checked his phone. That’s totally different, mate. He made one call, or someone did, using Capstick’s phone and a different SIM card. A pay-as-you go one, as you’d expect.’

‘Bloody hell. Shit, I had no idea you could trace that.’ Dixon felt his blood pressure climbing further. His face was going red now, he was sure of it. ‘Tell me about this satellite phone.’

‘Give me a chance. I only found it five minutes ago. I’ll have to phone HQ, and find out how much we can get about it, but I don’t think it’s very much to be honest. All I know so far is that it wasn’t sold in the UK, and isn’t registered here either.’

‘Can you tell where they both were when the call was made? Where Capstick’s phone was, I mean.’

‘Capstick’s phone, sure, he was in Flookburgh. But the satellite phone is a no, because it doesn’t use the masts, does it?’

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