“After having picked up the torch, we always presumed,” Ravi put in. “We even wondered if the killer actually needed it, in order to reach the rendezvous point with the getaway vehicle in the dark.”
Holly had calmed herself down. “So, it was definitely Richard who was the target. I suppose if he wasn’t, the gunman would have killed us all.”
“If the Vogels were involved, the murderer would have wanted to make sure it wasn’t one of them who came to the door,” Ravi added.
Holly sighed deeply. “I know I was angry with Mark. I thought he was a coward, an ineffectual bystander; the way he just sat there during the whole thing. But to have been involved in the murder – I’m struggling to believe it.” She looked at the torch in her hand. “But this, coming back to us after all these years, and Mark being in possession of it, well, it’s hard to draw any other possible conclusion, isn’t it?”
Chapter 20
2003
Tony Shorter addressed the team. He’d suspended an Ordnance Survey map of the Cleland area across a pair of flip-charts pushed together. The Heath-Robinson type construction was positioned behind him.
“The place where we believe Arnold Dunleavy unwittingly hit a person walking by the side of the Cleland Road was here.” He circled the spot with a red pen. “At the time the collision occurred, this individual could easily have been coming from the direction of the McGill cottage, having carried out the murder of Richard McGill at a few minutes past midnight.”
“Did the forensic team find any other evidence at the scene, boss?” Colin Bell enquired.
“They photographed the marks left in the long grass, agreeing they matched the proportions of a slim-built adult male. They did a thorough search of the side of the road and the field. They found nothing, except some metal fragments, which we believe may have been from the front grill of the Dunleavys’ vehicle.”
Ravi got to his feet. “We also had the Dunleavy car properly examined. The techs found some denim-like material caught under the front bumper. There’s reason to believe it may have come from the clothing of whoever they hit.”
Shorter sighed heavily. “But without the victim of the hit-and-run, we have no way of trying to match it up.”
“And the Dunleavys definitely didn’t see the person they struck?” Colin looked sceptical.
“We’ve interviewed them twice, now. I believe they were dazzled by the vehicle approaching them on the bend. They genuinely didn’t notice the person walking towards them on their nearside. They were both pretty distraught at the idea they actually hit someone.”
“We should be grateful they came forward at all,” Ravi added. He remained on his feet. “We know the killer possibly had accomplices, because we found the abandoned van on the outskirts of Cleland.” He stepped forward and pointed to the location on the map. “We assumed the killer arrived in this van and left in another vehicle. But maybe, he got knocked down before he was able to make the rendezvous.”
Shorter creased his flushed face. “Then where the hell did he go to after that? He must have been injured, surely?”
Ravi shook his head, just as perplexed as his boss. “He must have regained consciousness and headed into the hills on foot.”
“But the search helicopter didn’t find him,” Colin interjected.
Shorter threw his pen onto a desk. “Christ! This is all bloody circumstantial! We can’t even prove this mystery hit-and-run victim was the killer!”
Ravi raised his arms, as if to calm the situation down. “Okay, we know the man would have been injured, but perhaps he was able to make a call on his mobile phone. His accomplices may still have been able to come and fetch him.” The DC paced up and down beside the flip-charts. “The killer had worn gloves and dumped the gun in the skip as he made his escape, but he kept the torch. Perhaps he needed it, to get to the rendezvous point on foot in the dark.”
Colin was thinking hard. “You said the company who supplied the skip to Mike Ross were dodgy. They’ve now disappeared off the scene, leaving their customers in the lurch. Do we think they were part of the murder?”
Ravi shrugged. “I couldn’t help but think so, when I found out they’d done a bunk. It seems a coincidence otherwise, that they disappeared off the face of the earth, just after the murder took place.”
“And the skip was used as a place to dump the gun,” Shorter added. “As if the killer knew it would be there for the purpose.”
“We were bound to find it eventually,” Ravi explained, “but it allowed the perp time to get away from the scene. The firearm was untraceable, but not something you would want to be found with, in the event of being stopped and searched that night.”
Colin rested his weight on a desk. “If the skip company were involved in the planning, then this killing was carefully organised. There were a number of individuals involved.”
“Including those in the cottage that night?” Shorter threw the idea out into the room.
Ravi shook his head. “Mark Vogel was the only one there with a mobile phone. The records show he hadn’t used it that night, other than to call the emergency services at just after midnight. There were no unusual phone calls to or from the cottage itself in the days before either, only between McGill and his ex-wife and kids.”
Shorter counted points off on his chubby fingers. “We can’t trace the weapon used, or the abandoned van, or the vanishing skip company. The gang that organised this are seriously clever bastards.”
Ravi gazed back at the map, allowing his eyes to pass over the contours of the hills and lochs. “Nobody is that clever. Everyone makes mistakes. We just need to find out what their’s was.”
Chapter 21
Present Day
The evening sun had dipped behind the line of grey townhouses. Dani shivered at the sudden drop of temperature in the car.
“I could go and get us some takeaway food?” Ravi suggested. “I saw a Thai place in the parade of shops around the corner?”
“You can go if you like. I’m hoping to be home in time to eat dinner with my partner tonight.”
Ravi picked up on the note of warning in her voice. “This won’t take long, I promise. I just want to see how Mark Vogel is behaving now that he knows we’ve got the torch. In the absence of being able to haul him in for questioning, this is the next best thing.”
“I don’t blame the Fiscal’s office for not re-opening the McGill case. There wasn’t any physical evidence to suggest the torch was the one the murderer took that night.”
Ravi nodded in resignation. “I understand that. But it means we need more to go on. You and I both know it can’t be a coincidence that torch was in Vogel’s possession.”
“I must admit it’s intriguing, which is why I’m here, in my own time, staring at the front of a house in Thorntonhall.” She shifted uncomfortably. “I haven’t done surveillance work since I was a DS.”
“I tend to delegate it myself these days, too.” He flashed Dani a smile. “It’s a trip down memory lane for us both then.”
Dani grimaced. “A not altogether pleasant one.” She relaxed back into the seat. “Ravi, I need to ask you about your relationship with Holly Kilpatrick.” She paused, searching for the correct words. “There seems to be a close bond between the two of you. If this was an active investigation, I would be considering pulling you off my team, after what I saw yesterday.”
Ravi sighed. “I’ve been with my wife for twenty years. I love her completely, and the children. But the day I travelled down to Dumfries to interview Holly, back in 2003, there was a spark between us. I think she felt it too, because I’m the detective she has kept in contact with all these years.”
Dani twisted to face him. “I’ve had my fair share of unfortunate relationships over the years, a few of which have impaired my judgement during cases. It’s crucial to keep a professional distance.”
“It was never a relationship, Ma’am. I can view the McGill case with a clear head.”
Dani was
n’t entirely convinced. She’d seen the way Ravi had looked at Holly during their interview. Her anguish had caused him pain, it was evident in his eyes. If the detective didn’t know better, she’d have said he was in love with her.
Ravi ended the discussion by reaching across to shake her arm. “Look,” he murmured. “It appears the Vogels have arrived home.”
The pair of detectives sunk lower in their seats and observed the family in silence. A chunky, silver people carrier had pulled onto the driveway. Mark got out first, followed by Anna. Mark stood on the front step and proceeded to peer intently up and down the quiet street.
“He’s definitely jumpy,” Ravi rasped. “What’s he looking for?”
Dani was worried he might spot them parked a few houses down, with the intense way he was observing his surroundings. Then, the children slid out of the back of the car and Mark switched his attention to them. The twins were red-heads. The physical similarity between them and their mother was obvious. The young woman beside them, who Dani assumed to be Layla, was much darker in her complexion, her hair a black, sleek bob to her narrow shoulders.
“Dammit,” Ravi muttered. “They’re going straight inside.”
“Well, we didn’t really expect them to do anything else, did we?” Dani asked.
Ravi didn’t reply.
When the elegant front door had closed on the family, Dani shuffled up in her seat. “Right, you can give me a lift home now.”
Ravi lightly drummed the wheel with his fingertips, a gesture of frustration. “Sure, it’s Scotstounhill, isn’t it?”
“That’s right, and Ravi?”
“Yes?” He turned to catch her eye.
“Don’t go heading straight back here after you’ve dropped me off, okay?”
Ravi nodded vigorously. “Of course, Ma’am. I need to get back to Rupali. I’m late as it is.”
“Good,” she replied, in as firm a tone as she could muster.
*
Dani examined Alice’s appearance as she sat at the opposite side of the desk in her office. The young detective had dark shadows under her eyes and she was squirming uncomfortably in the chair.
“Are you sleeping properly?” Dani asked gently.
“It’s hard to get comfortable in bed, with the pain in my back. I can only take paracetamol tablets, which don’t seem to touch it.”
“I want you to work from home for the next few days, a week if necessary. Andy and Sharon can keep things ticking over here. Besides, there’s something I’d like you to look into, and it isn’t strictly official.”
Alice narrowed her eyes. “Is it related to the McGill case?”
“Indirectly,” Dani replied cryptically. She pushed a paper wallet towards the DI.
Alice flipped it open. “It’s a prison file.”
“It’s the file on a male inmate named Bradley Wynne. He was moved to Dartmoor a month ago in preparation for his release.”
Alice scanned the front sheet. “He’s served 14 years of a life sentence for murder.”
“Yes, his parole hearing is in six months.”
Alice frowned. “Why are we interested in him, boss?”
“Because the murder he committed is the only other case of a doorstep shooting recorded in the UK in the past fifty years. In fact, it took place only just over a month after Richard McGill was killed.” Dani folded her arms across her chest. “I did some background research during the conference we both attended. I wondered if the McGill murder could have been carried out by a serial offender.”
“But there was no connection?” Alice assumed as much, otherwise it would have been a line of enquiry pursued by Shorter’s team at the time.
Dani shook her head. “I certainly couldn’t find one. But I would appreciate another set of eyes on the evidence. The short timescale between each of the crimes makes me uneasy. I don’t like coincidences.”
Alice smiled, neither did she. “Can I take the file home?”
“Of course. If there’s any other information you need, just give me a call. I’m sure I can put you in contact with a detective on the team down in the south west of England, someone who has a recollection of the case.”
Alice placed her hand squarely on the desk, leaning all her weight on it and struggling to get to her feet.
Dani hurried round to help her. “I’m going to get Andy to drive you home,” she said forcefully. “I’m not going to take no for an answer.”
“Don’t worry,” Alice sighed in resignation. “I wasn’t even going to argue.”
Chapter 22
It was the 23rd of December 2003 and a bitterly cold night. The village of St Torbin lay on the outskirts of Bodmin Moor, in Cornwall. There were only a few hundred residents. The community was a close-knit one.
The Trelawny family lived in a bungalow on the road leading out of the village towards Camelford. The front garden was long and surrounded by dense conifers, which shrouded the property from the road. On the evening of the 23rd, Diane Trelawny was wrapping Christmas presents in the bedroom she shared with her husband at the rear of the house. Their teenage children were watching television in the sitting room and Jack Trelawny was tidying the kitchen after their evening meal.
Diane didn’t hear the knock at the front door which came at half past ten. The children heard but remained in their seats, imagining one of their parents would answer it, hoping the fact they’d not yet gone to bed would remain unnoticed. The girl, Nicola, thinks she heard her father walk past the sitting room towards the front of the house a few moments after the knock.
Seconds later, a shot rang out. Instinctively, the children remained where they were, cowering on the sofa and listening for further sounds. It was Diane who sprinted out of her bedroom and along the hallway to discover her husband sprawled on the doorstep, suffering from a gunshot wound to the chest.
Fergus entered the sitting room silently. When he placed a cup of herbal tea on the table beside Alice she nearly jumped out of her skin. “Bloody hell! I didn’t hear you coming!”
Fergus slid onto the sofa beside her. “It’s a spine-tingling read, then?” He nodded at the file open on her knees.
“The killer just approached the front-door, bold as brass, and shot Jack Trelawny in the chest with a sawn-off shotgun. His children were only a few feet away. It was two days before Christmas.”
Fergus grimaced. “How long did it take the police to find him?”
“Diane Trelawny was distraught to discover her husband’s injuries, but she called an ambulance quickly. The police were there within half an hour. By that time, the killer was gone.”
He cradled his coffee mug. “I suppose it would have been a dark night and they were on the edge of the village, you said? Where there were fewer street lights?”
“The lead detective thought the murderer may have legged it onto the moor. They began an extensive manhunt; including officers from as far away as Launceston. The sniffer dogs found him by first light. He was hiding in an old dug-out used at one point for military training. He still had the gun and was covered in blood.”
“It wasn’t a professional job, then? Not like the killing of McGill?”
Alice shook her head. “Bradley Wynne was a customer of Trelawny’s business, selling machinery and equipment to farms. Wynne had taken over his parents’ smallholding when they died. The prosecution claimed Wynne had bought a pick-up from the victim which was faulty. He felt Trelawny had ignored his complaints.” She sighed. “Wynne had sent Trelawny hundreds of emails and letters over the previous few months, he’d become obsessed with him.”
“There must have been more to it than just a dodgy truck?”
Alice handed her boyfriend a photograph of the family. Jack stood at the centre of it; broad, dark-haired and handsome. “The psychologist who interviewed Wynne suggested he’d developed a sexual obsession with Trelawny. They found homosexual pornography on the computer at his farm.”
“Was there any evidence the two men had a sexual r
elationship?”
“Not that the detectives ever discovered. Diane Trelawny was adamant that Wynne was stalking her husband, that they’d done nothing to encourage his behaviour.”
“I suppose those were the days before stalking was taken seriously by the authorities. Now, we would see the behaviour as flagging up the possibility of escalation.”
Alice nodded. “Well, it certainly did escalate. A father was shot dead in cold blood.” She shuddered. “I suppose if Wynne was obsessed with his victim, the thought of Jack spending Christmas with his family was impossible to bear.”
“Was the trial straight-forward?”
“Yep, Wynne’s clothing was splattered with Trelawny’s blood and gunpowder residue covered his hands. The badgering letters and emails had been retained and were in the victim’s office. The guy was an amateur. The jury came to their verdict after only three hours of deliberation. He’s been in prison ever since.”
“That would have been of some comfort to the family.” Fergus scratched his head. “Of course, the man will be due for parole now.”
“He’s been moved to Dartmoor, ready for release next year. His behaviour in prison has been exemplary.”
“It was a crime passionel. A decent brief might even have got him a reduced sentence. He may never show violent tendencies again in his life.”
Alice knew that Fergus would provide the lawyer’s viewpoint. “It was hardly spur-of-the-moment though, not when Wynne walked a half mile to the house with a loaded shot-gun cocked over his arm.”
“True,” Fergus conceded. “It certainly seems quite different in nature from your cold case in the Highlands.”
“But the method of killing is strikingly similar.”
Fergus absent-mindedly rested his hand on the baby bump. “It’s a risky way to murder someone. In both cases, there were witnesses nearby, and one of them could have come to the door instead of the victim. It would have made more sense to hide in the bushes and wait for the victim to come outside to fill the bins or something, anything but announce your arrival with a ring of the doorbell.”
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