Trophies: a gripping detective thriller (The Wakefield Series Book 1) (27 page)

He got up from behind his desk and wandered over to stare out of the window. Christ, he could do with a cigar but it was too early for that. He turned round as John Darby knocked and entered.

“Sorry, guv,” Darby said. “But I thought you’d like to know, we’ve got a report from North Yorkshire. They reckon they’ve found Hinchcliffe’s van up near Pickering.”

“That’s good … but I can tell from your tone there’s more.”

“They’ve also found a body in a burnt-out caravan a few yards away.”

“Hinchcliffe?”

“Won’t know ‘till they check dental records. Fingerprints are no good.”

“Is it suspicious?”

“Too early to tell. Forensics are still conducting a detailed search.”

“All right, John, stay in contact with North Yorkshire.” As Darby turned to leave, Strong thought of something else. ”Is Kelly in yet?”

“Yes, guv.”

“Ask her to come in a minute, would you.”

A few minutes later, Stainmore appeared. “You wanted to see me, guv?”

“Yes, Kelly. Take a seat. I assume John’s told you about the grisly find up in Pickering?”

Stainmore sat down. “Yes. It was a bit of a surprise, I certainly wasn’t expecting Hinchcliffe to turn up dead.”

“That’s if it is him, of course. Now, what I’d like you to do is call round and see Mrs Hinchcliffe. Take John with you and see if Jake had any connection with that area of North Yorkshire. Did he have any friends up there or access to a caravan, that sort of thing? Only, don’t let John go blabbing on about finding a body. It'll only alarm her. It may not be Jake after all and we won’t know for a while yet.”

“Right. I hear you drew a blank on Kenny Stocks yesterday.”

Strong leaned back in his chair, hands behind his head. “Well, I don’t think he murdered Williams if that’s what you mean but I don’t believe he was in there to do a bit of thieving either. I think we need to do a bit more digging on Frank Carr. I just get a feeling about him on this. Now you reckoned Williams had paid his debts to Carr, didn’t you?”

“That’s what Carr said and he produced some paperwork to show it but, let’s face it, anybody could have come up with that after the event.”

Strong sat forward again, arms on his desk. “You saying you’re not satisfied with the answers?”

“You know what these guys are like, guv. It’s a wonder he produced any records at all.”

He sighed. “Well, we’ve only got his word that the debt was discharged. But if it wasn’t, then that may have been motive enough to have Williams done over. And he may not have been as lucky as Stocks.”

Stainmore nodded slowly. “That might be hard to prove but, as you say, we’ll keep digging.”

Strong paused, giving the previous conversation a little more thought. “Right,” he finally said. “Any more progress on the assault victims?”

“Yes. I found Irene Gledhill in Todmorden. She worked in the local council offices back in August 1992. Now, if you recall, Montgomery was released from Strangeways in June of that year. Given address – Todmorden. Anyway, she’d been out with friends for a few drinks and was walking home alone when she was attacked from behind – same pattern as before. After a bit of thought, she did remember that she missed something following her ordeal – a silver charm bracelet. I got her to mention some of the charms she had on it and, guess what? She’s positively identified the one found in the box as hers.”

Strong’s eyes opened wide at the news. “You know, KelIy, the more we find out about this box the more convinced I am that it’s the key to this whole mystery.”

“I also managed to track down Samantha Senior,” Stainmore continued. “She was attacked in Dewsbury in 1990. She’s now married and living in Surrey. I spoke to her on the phone on Friday. Fortunately, her attacker was disturbed by a passing car. She wasn’t able to provide any sort of description. However, she did confirm that nothing had been stolen from her.”

“So, how many is that you’ve covered now?”

“Nine, so far. One untraceable, one unobtainable, the other side of the world, one deceased and one false claimer. Out of those, three items have been positively identified from the box.”

“And, what, another five to trace?”

“That’s right, but we’re going back early to mid eighties now.”

“Okay, keep on it.”

As Stainmore stood up, she remembered something else. “Oh, by the way, guv, did you know the funeral’s tomorrow?”

“Funeral? What funeral?”

“Billy Montgomery. Nine o’clock at the crem.”

“That’s a bit quick. He only died early hours of Friday morning.”

Stainmore laughed, “I think he got a cancellation.”

A look of incredulity passed over Strong’s countenance.

“And they wouldn’t need a PM either,” she added.

“Hmm, I suppose not.”

Ormerod bobbed his head round the door, looking a bit flustered. “Sorry, guv,” he said, “The Enforcer wants a word.”

“He’s back, then?”

“Afraid so.”

“Do you reckon he’s going to be taking the case over?” Kelly wondered.

Both men looked at her. There was a discernable pause before Strong answered. “Wouldn’t surprise me. He’s been itching to get into it for a while.”

“If only to suppress doubts over Summers’ conviction, eh?”

“I didn’t hear you say that, Kelly. But let’s see if you can complete your check on all those assault victims as soon as.”

“And,” Ormerod emphasised, “the DCI’s called a briefing with the troops at two.”

After they left his office, Strong considered that Kelly had the makings of a good detective, provided she knew when to keep comments like that to herself.

The door to Cunningham’s office was open and the man himself was sitting at his desk reading some documents.

“You wanted to see me, sir.” Strong stepped inside.

“Shut the door, Colin. Take a seat.” Cunningham removed the reading glasses from his face and watched as Strong sat down. He folded the legs of his spectacles, put them in their case and placed it on the desk in front of him. “I’ll come straight to the point, Colin, I’ll be taking over the Williams enquiry.”

“I rather thought you would.”

“And I’ve got something else for you to look at.”

“What! You mean you don’t want me involved at all?”

“Nothing personal. I just don’t think the enquiry’s headed in the right direction.”

“And you know this because you’re on the phone to Luke Ormerod every day.”

Cunningham smirked. “He told you, then?”

“It’s what you expected, isn’t it?”

“I suppose so. He’s a loyal officer – at least to you, by the sound of it.”

It was Strong’s turn to give a mirthless smile. “That’s the kiss of death for him, then,” he said, almost under his breath.

“Look, Colin, I’m under pressure to get results. Chief Superintendent Flynn is on my case. We’re now, what, two weeks into this and you don’t seem to be any nearer solving it.”

“We are making progress, sir. We’re following several lines of enquiry.”

“Such as?”

“Well, it would appear that Kenny Stocks found the body on Thursday 16
^th
December. Personally, I don’t believe his explanation of breaking in because he’d heard Williams kept the proceeds of burglaries at the flat. We’re also looking into Stocks’ relationship with Frank Carr. The other character we’re keen to interview again, Jake Hinchcliffe, has gone missing but I’ve just heard that the vehicle he was last connected with has been found near Pickering. Unfortunately, a body has been found inside a burnt-out caravan nearby. We’re awaiting identification. But neither of them match the description of a man enquiring after Williams in the Malt Shovel and seen near the flat a day or two before we think Williams was killed.”

“So what are we doing to trace him?”

“We’ve released an e-fit to the press today and we’ll see what response we get. But I still think the solution lies in the trophy case.”

“Trophy case, my arse! You’ve gone off on a fucking tangent with that!” Cunningham was on his feet and circling his chair.

Strong shook his head, unable to respond.

After a few moments, Cunningham sat back down and appeared to have calmed slightly. “Look, don’t you think the key to this lies in knowing more about the victim himself rather than any fancy theories you might have about some serial attacker?”

“Nothing to do with Irene Nicholson’s chain doubting Paul Summers conviction that you secured?”

A heavy silence descended, and Strong knew he’d hit home.

Cunningham’s face looked as if it was on fire. Slowly and deliberately, he began to speak. “Just you be very fucking careful what you say, DI Strong. Now, I’ll say this one last time, Summers was found guilty of the sexual assault of Irene Nicholson by a unanimous verdict. The bastard did it and if I hear one more word to the contrary, I’ll have you transferred to traffic. Do I make myself clear?”

Strong could feel the blood pounding in his head. His fists had clenched by his sides, hidden from Cunningham’s view by the desk. Visions of gripping that desk and heaving it onto the arsehole before climbing over and punching his lights out, zipped through his mind.

“Do I make myself clear?” Cunningham repeated, just as Strong visualized landing the second blow.

Keep your powder dry, Strong told himself. Aloud, he said, “Sir,” in the briefest possible fashion.

“Right. You’ll attend the briefing at two but will say nothing unless specifically asked. After the briefing, you’ll report to DCI Matheson from the Leeds Drugs Squad where you will offer local liaison for their ongoing enquiry. That’s all.”

41

Rain spattered the windscreen of Souter’s Ford Escort as he made his way slowly through the early morning rush into Leeds. He came to a stop yet again, outside Tetley’s brewery. The distinctive aroma permeated the ventilation grilles on the dash. He looked across at the buildings and his thoughts drifted. In the modern age of computerised technology, surely that would be one place workers would still have to come to perform an important function. You couldn’t brew beer over the internet.

His mobile phone sprang to life in the pocket of his shirt. It took a few seconds to wrestle it free and answer the call. Fortunately, the traffic was still waiting for the lights to change. It was DS Ron Boyle from Strathclyde Police. The Yorkshire Post reception had given him his number. Souter had helped Ron out on a few cases when he was on the Herald and felt confident in asking for the information he wanted now. He gave him Billy
Montgomery’s details and wondered if Ron could supply intelligence on how Montgomery’s career had progressed since he left Glasgow in the early seventies. He also gave Ron another name and date of birth to see what Criminal Records could throw up. Ron promised to call back as soon as he had anything.

By mid morning, Souter was in full flow drafting an article on the impending bursting of the dot com bubble and how it might affect the ordinary man in the street.

Janey Clarke placed a mug of coffee on his desk and paused to read what he’d written on his computer screen. “You really think that could happen?” she asked.

Before he could respond, his phone rang. It was Ron again. Over the course of the next five minutes, he related Billy Montgomery’s entire illustrious career to date.
“Basically, since being released in August 1995, he’s kept his nose clean,”
he said.
“Probably gettin’ too old by now.”

“Thanks for that, Ron. It’s a great help.”

“So what’s he been up to recently to get you so interested? Anythin’ I should know about?”

“No. It’s just a bit of background, really.”

“Ah, well, if there is anythin’ more to it, I’m sure I’ll be the first to know,”
he said, with more than a touch of irony.

“I’m sure you will,” Souter laughed. “Now, before I forget, anything on that other name I gave you?”

“Nothin’ listed. I don’t know if that’s what you wanted to hear …”

“Hmm. I suppose that’s no surprise. I just thought I’d check it out. All right, Ron, thanks again. I’ll maybe see you sometime.”

For a minute, Souter considered what he’d just been told. Finally, he wandered out into the lobby area for more privacy and dialled a number on his mobile phone. After asking for an extension number and waiting for two rings, a male voice answered.

“Keith. How’re you doing?” Souter said.

“Oh, it’s you,”
Keith said, with an air of disappointment.
“What do you want?”

“Come on Keith, that’s no way to greet an old friend.”

Keith just grunted.

“A little favour.”

“It always is. Haven’t I paid off this debt by now?”

“Just one or two more and then I’ll make sure the photos never see the light of day.”

“Look, if they ever find out I’m using the National Insurance computer for my own personal business, I’ll be out of a job and I’ll be no use to you anyway.”

“It’ll be all right. I’m sure you have to use it to check through people’s records all the time in your job. Stop panicking.”

“What do you want?”

Souter gave him a name and date of birth. “What I need is an address.”

“Where are you now?”

He relayed his phone number and Keith promised to get back to him as soon as he could.

42

DCI Cunningham swept in to the briefing room and left everyone in no doubt that he was now taking charge of the Williams’ murder inquiry. He thanked DI Strong for his lead role while he was tied up elsewhere and, before asking to be brought up to speed with all the current lines of enquiry, announced that Strong would be involved in another investigation working out of Millgarth in Leeds over the next few days. A few puzzled looks were aimed in Strong’s direction. He tried not to show his anger.

It was still too early to gauge the response from the publication in the morning press of the e-fit of a man they wished to trace and eliminate from the inquiry. Fibres found by Forensics on the back of Williams jacket may well have come from the perpetrator’s clothing as he was manhandled onto the bed. However, there were no matches from any samples taken from Kenny Stocks’ clothing.