Trophies: a gripping detective thriller (The Wakefield Series Book 1) (14 page)

“Summers?”

“Yes. I thought I’d seen him before, so I picked him out.” Her focus dropped from Strong to her hands in her lap. “I didn’t know what I was doing. Events just seemed to overtake me. But then, when the Inspector told me he had a record for sex offences, I convinced myself it was the right thing to do. I just wanted it all to end.”

She dabbed her eyes again and seemed to gather strength to carry on. “After the trial, part of me always wondered if I’d sent the wrong man away, especially when he protested his innocence and his brother tried to start a campaign. The thing was, I just couldn’t change my mind because I’d be back where I started. It was doing my head in. I suppose that’s why I’m … well, I’m still not …” Her head dropped before she recovered again. “In time, I put it to the back of my mind but, always, I wondered if something like this would happen … and start those doubts all over again.”

She seemed relieved, having finally cleared all her pent up anxieties from her conscience. She raised her head and looked Strong in the eye. “So where did you find the chain? Nowhere connected with Summers, I suppose.”

“I can’t tell you exactly at the moment, only that it turned up during an investigation into another matter. I’m not saying that it isn’t connected but, the point is, we’ll have to look at your case again.”

“I understand.”

Strong reached into the briefcase Stainmore had left by the side of the settee. “In the meantime, I’d like to ask you if you recognise any of these men.” Strong pulled out a brown envelope then carefully took out a photo of Fred Williams, placing it on the coffee table in front of her.

She picked it up, studied it for a moment then put it back down. “No, never seen him before.”

“How about this one?” Strong placed a photo of Billy Montgomery on the table.

“This one,” Irene said, “I have seen.” She looked into the unseen distance above the fireplace as she tried to recall. “Ah, yes,” she said, finally, “he sometimes came in the White Horse where I used to work. Not very often but I do remember him now. Funny accent, a kind of mix of Scottish and Yorkshire I think.”

“Okay, Irene, thanks.” Strong took the last photo from the envelope and placed the mug shot of Jake Hinchcliffe on the table. “Now what about him?”

Again, she studied the photo for a while before putting it back down. “No, not seen him before.”

“All right, you’ve both been a great help.” Strong gathered up the photos and the evidence bag with the silver chain and gave them to Stainmore to put back in her leather case. He rose to leave. “As you can understand though, we will need to speak to you again and get a formal statement from you.”

Irene nodded.

Maureen stood and put a comforting arm around her niece as Strong and Stainmore took their leave.

Stainmore unlocked the car and they both got in.

Strong was silent; there was a definite atmosphere.

She fired up the engine and set off. “So, where to now, guv? Billy Montgomery’s?” she asked.

“Pull up here a minute.”

She did as asked, just around the corner from Irene’s house. Stainmore studied her boss for a second then looked away, waiting for him to speak.

“What’s your opinion of the DCI, Kelly?” he finally asked.

She puffed out her cheeks. “Well …”

“Off the record.”

She turned to look at Strong. “You’re asking if I think he could have screwed this up? If he could have been incompetent? Or deceitful, dishonest; downright corrupt? Criminal in fact?”

“That’s a fairly strong array of adjectives.” Strong was slightly surprised at her cutting tone. “What I mean is … do you think he’s the sort of officer to cut corners to get a result?”

“In a word, guv, no.”

“That’s what I’d have said too, Kelly. But you can’t ignore what they’ve just told us. And the necklace, of course.”

“There is one other possibility,” Stainmore pondered.

“Go on.”

She took a deep breath. “He could be like most men at some time or other and allow their brains to be in their bollocks.”

Strong smiled nervously and looked all round, as if checking that he was the only one to hear what she’d said. “You think he was having it away with Kathy Sharp?”

Stainmore shrugged. “Like Maureen said back there, securing the conviction didn’t do his promotion prospects any harm, did it?”

“And DC Sharp becomes a DS with the help of a strong recommendation from her boss?” he surmised.

“She could have been an embarrassment for him. Nice solution to the problem.”

“Listen, Kelly, who else knows Irene Nicholson has identified this necklace?”

“Well … no-one. I mean, I mentioned it was a possibility to Malcolm – he’s working this line of enquiry with me. He knows we were coming out here this morning so he’ll no doubt ask when we get back.”

“Alright, let’s just keep this under wraps for now. The DCI’s back today, isn’t he?”

“No, tomorrow. He’s having an extra day down …” Stainmore slowed. “in … London. You don’t think he’s still … no, surely …”

“You mean our little Met minx? Maybe. We’ll give it till tomorrow before we let the team know about the definite Nicholson connection.”

“So, Billy Montgomery’s then?”

“No, not just yet. I want to check a few details on his record back at Wood Street first.”

“Okay.” Stainmore started the engine.

“Oh, but first, let’s go by Morrison’s. I need some more cigars.”

Stainmore just shook her head.

24

On Monday morning, Souter parked his car in a visitor’s space and looked up at the tired precast concrete panels of the Yorkshire Post building. When constructed in the 1960’s, it was a landmark. Its digital clock welcomed visitors arriving in Leeds by train from the south and the west. Now, against its neighbours, it looked dated, incongruous, like some item of fashion that had had its day.

Five minutes after checking in at Reception, John Chandler, the paper’s deputy editor, greeted him warmly and brought him up to his office for an initial chat. With a view over the new City Island complex and, just visible in the distance, Elland Road stadium, home of Leeds United, the office was impressive.

Chandler poured them both a cup of freshly brewed coffee from the percolator that was placed on the low beech wood cabinet sited along one wall. Handing one to Souter, he sat down behind his desk. He looked fit and tanned, as if he’d not long returned from a winter break in some sunny clime.

“I’m glad you decided to join us,” he said. “I think you’ll be a strong addition to the team. I’ll introduce you in a minute.”

Souter nodded a thanks and took a sip of his coffee.

“I don’t suppose you’ve had much of a chance to catch up with any old colleagues from the Star days?”

“Oddly enough, I had a pint with Jimmy Wilson last week He managed to get me a freebie to the game at Maine Road on Saturday. He was covering Sheffield United.”

“Good game?”

“Not really. City won two-one.”

“A real character, Jimmy. How was he?”

“Much the same. A bit older but none the wiser. Same old brown suit; a bit like Columbo, only scruffier.”

Chandler smiled. “Sound hack, though. Plenty of good contacts. Knows a lot of useful people.”

“That’s true.”

“Thanks for that piece on the Williams murder last week, by the way. Things seem to have gone quiet on that one. Probably just a fall out between small-time criminals.”

“Maybe,” Souter said slowly.

“You think there’s more to it, then?”

“I don’t know, really, but I’ve got a few lines I’m following myself, so we’ll just have to see how it develops.”

Coffees finished, Chandler gave Souter a guided tour of the offices, introduced him to his new colleagues, then left him to settle in to his desk.

The office was open plan, similar to that at the Herald, with low screens separating the workstations. At the next desk, a plump but attractive dark-haired girl in her mid-twenties was seated. She had been introduced as Jane Clarke but when Chandler had gone, she was at pains to point out that everyone called her Janey.

“Everyone calls me Bob,” he said in response. Before she could ask any more, his phone rang.

“Mr Souter?”
the hesitant voice asked,
“it’s Patricia on reception.”

“Hello,” he said, mentally putting a name to the face he’d seen earlier.

“I’ve got a caller asking to speak to a Bob Souter.

“Did they say who it was, Patricia?”

“Charlie Ritchie.”

“Thanks.”

The line clicked and Charlie’s familiar Glaswegian accent burst through.
“How’s it goin’, big man?”

“Missing me already, Charlie?”

“One or two here are, aye. Anyway, you were askin’ about Sheila Montgomery last week, married to some wee nob by the name o’ Billy.”

“As you know.”

“Well, I’ve got somethin’ else that might interest you …”

When the conversation ended, Souter made a couple more calls, checking the information Charlie had just given him. Satisfied, he left the office and made his way outside to call Strong in private.

25

“Roast beef with French mustard and a tea, white, no sugar.”

“Thanks, Kelly. Just put them down there for now.”

Stainmore selected a triangular plastic sandwich box and a polystyrene cup from the large brown paper bag she’d brought with her and put them down on the table. Strong was busy writing on an A3 pad surrounded by other papers leaving no clear space on his desk.

“Hang on a minute, Kelly,” he said, as she was halfway back through the doorway. He finished writing one last entry on the pad then held up two separate sheets of A4 paper. “Just have a look at these.”

She put down the paper bag containing her lunch, took the sheets from Strong and studied each in turn. One summarised Billy Montgomery’s criminal record, complete with dates in prison and known addresses at various times in between. The other listed the attacks currently under review by the murder team.

“In isolation, they probably don’t look too significant. But,” Strong ripped the top sheet from the A3 pad with a flourish as he spoke, “put them together and see what we’ve got.”

She sat down in the chair opposite her DI and considered the combined summary. “I see what you mean. But what about this one here, Charlotte Deakin in Morley, December 1988? Montgomery had been in Strangeways since January that year. He wasn’t released until the following November.”

“That’s the one I want you to concentrate on next. See if you can track her down; go over the details. I’ll want a similar exercise as this done for Williams.” Strong stood up and walked round the desk to pick up his tea. “Oh, and while we’re at it, lets do the same for Hinchcliffe.”

“Right, I’ll get Sam to check those out.”

Strong peeled back the cellophane cover of the sandwich box.

“There’s one more thing, guv. Sam’s had a whisper that our friend Kenny Stocks had been working for Frank Carr in recent months.”

“Frank Carr the poor man’s banker?” Strong mused.

“The very same.”

“So what would Frank Carr be doing employing the likes of Kenny Stocks?”

“I think it might have been more of a case of Kenny reducing his liabilities to Carr. Word was he was accompanying muscle to encourage repayments.”

“But Kenny’s no hired muscle.”

“That’s true.”

“Breaking and entering’s his forté … unless …” Strong broke off and took a slurp of his tea.

“Unless what?”

“Unless he accompanied Carr’s heavy in order to suss out what was on the premises of wherever they went.”

“And then come back when they were out to do his own bailiffs bit, seizing goods to the value of, you mean?”

“It’s an idea. Let’s see what Mr Carr has to say.”

“I’ll get Sam and John onto that. In the meantime, when do you want to pay Montgomery a visit?”

“Ah, um,” he struggled, wiping his mouth with his handkerchief. “Do you know, these sandwiches are delicious, Kelly. Give me half an hour and we’ll take a ride down there.”

As Stainmore closed the office door, Strong took a call on his mobile. “Bob, how’s your first day?”

“So far so good. How was the conference?”

“Very interesting, actually. It’s amazing the advances science has made in such a short space of time. What was the game like? Two one wasn’t it?”

“Not as exciting as the score suggests. Anyway, I’ve got something for you.”

“Oh, yes.”

“Did you know Montgomery’s father is still alive?”

“Christ, how old must he be?”

“He’s in his eighties. I’ve got an address for him. He’s in a nursing home in Sunderland.”

“Yes, but what state’s he in?”

“I don’t know but I think it would be worth checking out.”

“You may be right.”

“So, I was thinking, I’ve got to go up that way tomorrow …”

“Just hold on a minute, Bob, I don’t want you walking all over this investigation.”

“Come on, Colin, if you want me to help in this, I’ve got to be involved sometime. Anyway, I’ve got an idea about how we approach it.”

We
, at least he’s thinking
we
, Strong thought, then said, “What idea?”

“I’ll tell you later when I’ve fleshed it out a bit.”

“Tomorrow did you say?”

“As I’ve an interview to do up in Newcastle in the morning, that’s what I thought.”

Strong considered for a few seconds. “Okay, then. Depending on what happens later today, I’ll meet you up there. It’d only be a couple of hours in the car. It would be useful to get a bit more background on my man.”

“Thought you’d say something like that. Give me a call on my mobile tomorrow before nine at the latest and we’ll sort out the details.”

“But listen, no going solo on this.”

“As if.”

“I mean it!”

“Any more progress on the Nicholson’ case?”

“Nothing I can tell you at the moment.”

“Come on.”

“Sorry, Bob, got to go. Speak to you later.”

He ended the call, smiling to himself, imagining Souter’s reaction to being given the bum’s rush. In any event, he judged, it would be premature to release any information until he’d had another chat with Montgomery.