Deadly Duty Box Set 1 (Sgt Major Crane Crime Thrillers Box Set)

by Wendy Cartmell

  Crane decided to sit down and pulled up a chair, sitting on it backwards and leaning on the upright.

  “I’m still waiting for copies of the files to come through. At the moment, though, it could just be coincidence, sir.” As Crane glared at him, Billy quickly said, “Or maybe not,” and looked down at his drink.

  “Let me know when you’ve got the files and looked through them.”

  “Sir.” Billy agreed.

  “So, the next one is Madison. Yet again dark-haired suspect and this time we have a hair.”

  “But it matches Watkins, sir and even you don’t think it’s him.”

  “No, I don’t. But I’m going to get Kim to do an identification parade anyway. Arrange it with DI Anderson will you?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Billy?”

  “Sir?”

  “How are you remembering these instructions?”

  “Remembering, sir?”

  “Yes, where’s your bloody note book!”

  “Oh, shit, sorry, boss. I’m used to Kim taking notes for me.”

  “Yes, well, we’re used to Kim doing a lot of things around the office that aren’t getting done as well as usual. Let’s just hope she’s back with us soon.”

  As Crane was speaking, Billy was scrabbling for his notebook and Crane gave him a minute to make sure he had everything written down.

  “Any forensics back from Madison’s flat?”

  “Not yet, boss. I’ll chase up the lab.”

  Crane was pleased to see Billy making a note of that instruction.

  “Right, now the last two boards. We’ll do Summer in a moment, firstly Fitch and Turner, what’s happening there?”

  “All the paperwork has gone through the channels and is with the Military Justice System. We’re just waiting for a hearing date.”

  “Excellent, at least one case has gone smoothly.”

  “Which case is that, sir?”

  Crane and Billy whirled round at the sound of Kim’s voice.

  “Kim! Um, how are you? Good to see you. Billy get Kim a chair.”

  Billy pulled a chair away from the conference table, with all the flourish of a magician.

  “There you are milady,” he said with a grin.

  “Bugger off, Williams,” Kim grinned back and remained standing.

  “Good idea that, Kim. Billy, bugger off and get us some drinks. It’s good to see you, Kim. How are you feeling?”

  Crane moved to stand in front of the board detailing Kim’s attack, to spare her, but he wasn’t quick enough.

  “Alright, sir, considering.” But Kim seemed more interested in where Crane was standing, than in his questions. “Who’s that, sir?”

  “Who’s who?”

  “The photograph on my board, sir. It’s alright, you know. I’ve come into the office to see how I feel about being back. Captain Symmonds came with me.”

  “Oh, sorry, sir didn’t see you back there.” Crane nodded in Symmonds direction.

  Captain Symmonds moved to stand protectively next to Kim.

  “So, what photograph are you hiding, then, Sgt Major?” he asked.

  Crane realised he couldn’t pretend he didn’t know what they were talking about, so moved away from the board where he was trying to cover up a picture of Watkins.

  “This is the picture of the man whose hair was found on Madison’s body.”

  “So why is it on my board?”

  As Kim seemed determined to talk about the case, Crane thought it may do her good. So he went on to explain that he had put the picture of Watkins on her board as he wanted to do an identification parade, to see if she recognised him.

  Kim moved to stand in front of the photograph.

  “Can’t say as I do, sir, at least not from the photograph.”

  Crane tried to hide his disappointment.

  “Oh well, perhaps it might be better when you see him in an ID parade.”

  “Can we still do one, sir? I’ve seen his photo.”

  “Seen what photo?” Billy had returned with refreshments and passed mugs of tea around.

  “The photo of this bloke, Watkins,” Crane said.

  “Oh, him, yeah, fancy finding a longish black hair of his on Madison’s body. Seems a bit odd that, especially as he’s got a buzz haircut.”

  Kim moved and took the photo off the board, looking closely at it.

  “When was this taken, sir?”

  “I’m not sure. It’s a police photo taken when he was arrested at some time or other.”

  “Well if he’s got a buzz cut now, this must be an old photo.”

  “What makes you say that?”

  “Because I think he has long hair that’s scraped back. You can’t really see any of it, so at first glance he could have a short haircut, as it’s only a face-on picture. Look, sir.”

  Kim held the photograph next to her face, where she had her long blond hair scraped off her face.

  “See what I mean? If you look at me straight on you can’t see my hair is tied back. It just looks short.”

  “Bloody hell, you’re right, Kim. I wonder when he had it cut.” Crane put down his cup. “Right, better get onto DI Anderson, thanks, Kim,” and Crane walked off to his own office to make the call.

  36

  DI Anderson thought Crane’s question hilarious.

  “You want me to ask him when he had his hair cut?” he laughed.

  “Yes, Derek. We think at one stage he had long hair and had it cut off. Can you find out if that’s true?”

  “I can go and ask him. We’re still holding him here, pending the background checks.”

  “Good, wait for me, I’m coming over.”

  Crane put down the phone, grabbed his jacket and returned to the conference table, to find Kim and Captain Symmonds had gone.

  “Is Kim alright?” Crane asked, immediately worried that seeing her incident board could have brought on another flashback.

  “Yes, she’s fine, boss,” replied Billy. “She just said that she didn’t want to get in the way.”

  “Get in the way?”

  “Well, she actually said, ‘I better be off, Billy, as you’ll use my presence as an excuse not to work.’”

  Billy looked offended, but Crane thought Kim’s assessment was spot on.

  “Never mind that, we’re off to see DI Anderson, come on,” and Crane swept out of the room, leaving Billy to follow in his wake.

  ***

  Watkins looked anxious as Crane and Anderson confronted him in an interview room. Crane was all business with his files in front of him on the table. Anderson just looked bemused by the whole hair thing.

  “Can’t I go, Mr Anderson?” Watkins whined. “I’ve told you I haven’t anything to do with these girls getting hurt.”

  Crane saw Watkins was looking decidedly fed up and was plonked on his chair like a sack of potatoes.

  “Just as soon as we get something cleared up,” replied Anderson.

  Watkins brightened, sitting up straighter, “What’s that then?”

  “Your hair, Albert.”

  “What about it?” asked Watkins, running his hand over his buzz cut.

  “Did you have long hair?”

  “Oh, yes, now you mention it, Mr Anderson, I did. See, I got it cut for charity, like. Wanted to do a bit of good for a change, so I had it all off.”

  Watkins looked proud of himself.

  “When was that?”

  “Oh, must be about three months ago now. A few of us had it done at the same time. It was for a local hospice if I remember rightly. You know them that are dying…”

  “Yes, thank you, Albert,” cut in Anderson.

  “Where did this take place?” Crane got out his notebook.

  “Oh, let me think, that barber near the bottom of Victoria Street.”

  “Right, thank you, Mr Watkins,” said Crane and left the room with Anderson following.

  “What are you thinking, Crane?”

  “It’ll all become cle
ar soon enough, be back in a minute.”

  Crane nodded to Billy and they left the station and made their way to the barbers.

  ***

  From the outside, the place looked like two different shops, on one side the men’s barber and on the other a ladies’ hairdresser. But on entering the barber’s side, Crane saw that in fact it was one huge unit, with a waist high wall separating the two businesses. A girl cutting the hair of a squaddie looked over at them.

  “Take a seat,” she mumbled. “Giorgio will be out in a minute.”

  Crane and Billy took a seat and Billy started to thumb through a motor magazine left on the table. But he didn’t get very far before a small dark-haired man hurried out to meet them.

  “Right, gents, who’s first? Hum, you I reckon,” he said looking closely at Crane’s hair. “Army, right?” and without waiting for an answer went on to say, “Well your hair’s a bit too long I’d say and your beard needs a trim.”

  “Thank you for your interest in my hair, Giorgio is it?”

  The barber nodded his assent.

  “But I’m not here about a haircut. We’re SIB.”

  Crane and Billy flashed their identifications. Crane watched the barber stiffen and the lad in the chair having his hair done, who was watching them a minute ago, began intently studying his reflection in the mirror.

  “Oh, I see. What can I do for you?”

  “I understand you cut the hair of Albert Watkins, for a charity stunt.”

  Billy handed Giorgio the photograph.

  “Oh, yes, I remember, about four of them had their hair off at the same time. What a bloody mess it made I can tell you. They all had hair long enough to put in a ponytail. But there’s nothing wrong in that, is there?”

  “No, sir, nothing at all,” said Billy retrieving the photo.

  “What did you do with all that hair?” asked Crane.

  But Giorgio won’t meet his glare and his eyes slid away.

  “It’s a simple question, sir,” added Billy.

  “I, um, I um,”

  “Come on, Giorgio, we’re only interested in the hair. We’re investigating a particularly nasty crime, so unless you want to come to the police station and talk to DI Anderson about it, perhaps you better tell me now.”

  Giorgio’s legs gave way and he dropped down onto a sofa covered with red plastic, intended to resemble leather.

  Putting his head in his hands, he mumbled, “I sold it.”

  “Sold it?”

  “Yes, I sold it to a wig maker.”

  “And didn’t declare the money, I suppose.”

  “Yes, I mean no, I…”

  “Don’t worry, I’m not interested in your tax free money making schemes, just go and get us the details of the wig maker, please.”

  “Bloody hell, boss,” Billy said as Giorgio scurried to his office to get the information, “nice one. Our attacker’s been wearing a wig!”

  “Yes. It seems he’s definitely been wearing a black one and possibly a blond one as well, which would account for the different descriptions. Let’s get the information back to Anderson and he can make enquiries of the wigmaker.”

  37

  With the conundrum of the black hair sorted out and in DI Anderson’s hands, Crane felt he could concentrate once again on Yasin Whadi, so he was sitting in his office, going through Yasin’s records and statements. In an interview room in the Guard House, the young lad was still protesting his innocence, although not as vehemently as he did when he was first interviewed.

  Gathering up his papers, Crane decided to go outside and have a cigarette before interviewing Whadi. As he paced up and down the car park outside Provost Barracks, Staff Sgt Jones came out to join him.

  “Morning, Jones,” called Crane and offered the Staff Sergeant a cigarette.

  “Cheers, Crane,” Jones bent to light the cigarette. “It’s getting bloody cold out here,” he complained, stamping his feet. “How are Tina and Daniel?”

  “Fine, thanks.”

  But Crane’s face must have belied his words as Jones peered and asked, “Are you sure, Crane?”

  “Well, you know, it’s always a bit of an upheaval having a new baby in the house, takes time to adjust and all that. He’s growing quick, mind,” and Crane showed Jones a few photos on his mobile phone, as a way of avoiding any further conversation about the precarious state of his domestic arrangements and Tina’s health.

  All the pictures viewed and cigarettes stubbed, Crane followed Jones to the Guard House, where Yasin was in an interview room.

  “Any particular line of enquiry today, boss?” asked Billy as he joined Crane, looking through the two-way glass at the young soldier who had an air of defeat about him. His shoulders were slumped; he was dishevelled and looked pale under his olive hued skin.

  “Just follow my lead, Billy. It’ll all become clear in due course.”

  Billy threw Crane a strange look, but didn’t speak as they entered the interview room. Yasin turned bloodshot eyes towards Crane, before dropping his head to look at the floor once more.

  “Haven’t you forgotten something again, soldier?” Crane barked.

  “No, sir, I haven’t, I just don’t seem to have the energy to move. Anyway what are you going to do to me? Put me on report? What difference would that make? I couldn’t be in a worse predicament than I am already. I’m being accused of raping and killing girls here in Aldershot and in other Garrison towns.”

  “No, that’s true, I suppose,” said Crane pulling out a chair and sitting down. “Particularly as the bloke you’re in cahoots with, is getting away with it.”

  “Bloke? Cahoots? What are you talking about now?”

  “Your accomplice, lad. You must have had a partner in all this. Did you two think you could fool us because you’re so different? You being dark-haired and dark-skinned and him being blond.”

  Billy smiled and joined in, “Seems a shame for you to take the fall for all the offences, don’t you think, Lance Corporal?”

  “Sergeant Williams, is right, son. You’re going away for a long time. Stop shielding this other bloke.”

  “It’ll look good with the court-martial and with the Aldershot Police, wouldn’t you say, sir?” Billy was clearly enjoying himself.

  “I’d say so, Sgt Williams. So, what do you think, Yasin? Are you going to tell us who you’re protecting?”

  Yasin nodded a small defeated movement.

  “Is that a yes?”

  “Yes, sir, but it’s not a bloke I’m protecting.”

  “Not a bloke?” Billy asked. “Surely it’s not a woman?”

  Unbelievably Yasin nodded his head in agreement.

  “You mean to tell me a woman has been involved in these vicious attacks? Are you having me on, Lance Corporal?”

  Crane had definitely been thrown a curved ball this time.

  “No, sir,” Yasin lifted his head and looked at Crane. “I’m not having you on and it’s not a woman doing the attacking. I’m telling you I’ve been trying to protect my girlfriend.”

  “What?” Billy and Crane said together.

  “My white girlfriend, sir, I was with her on the nights of the rapes. I was seen with her in The Goose. The blond girl I was talking to. She’s my long term girlfriend. We want to get engaged, but…”

  “But what, Lance Corporal?” asked Crane although he thought he knew what was coming.

  “My family don’t know about her. They think I should marry someone from Afghanistan. They’re very traditional in their values and their religion. They just wouldn’t accept me marrying a white girl. I’m not traditional, or religious and I just want to be allowed to live a normal western way of life. And…” Again Yasin trailed off.

  “And?” this time it was Billy prompting.

  “And I was afraid they might do something to her if they found out about her. So we are waiting until my next posting. She’ll follow me there and we can set up home together. It’s just too dangerous for us here in Aldershot,
too many of my family live here.”

  By the end of his story Yasin had tears falling down his face. No wracking sobs, no hitching of his shoulders, just the tears. Crane wasn’t sure if Yasin was ashamed of trying to deceive everyone, including Crane and his parents. But one thing was for sure, it was Crane that felt ashamed. Ashamed of letting his unfounded prejudices get in the way of the truth.

  38

  During the past week, there had been no more messages sent to Kim and no further attacks on vulnerable girls from The Goose. However, Crane couldn’t shake the feeling that it wasn’t the end. They hadn’t caught the bastard, and it was clearly not Yasin, so either the rapist had moved on to another town, or was just taking a break. Why he should be taking a break, Crane had no idea, but he wanted to be ready, just in case. Which was why, on yet another Saturday night, Crane and Billy were in Aldershot town centre. It was 23:00 hours and they were sat in Crane’s Ford Focus, parked just around the corner from The Goose.

  They were cold, miserable and bored. Plus, they were freezing their bollocks off, because Crane didn’t want to draw attention to their car by running the engine and having the heating on. Billy kept complaining of getting cramp in his legs from being scrunched up in the passenger seat. Crane couldn’t do anything about that, though. It wasn’t his fault Billy was over six feet tall. He really could do with a cigarette, but wouldn’t open the window and have one, because blowing the smoke out of the car, could again, potentially, draw attention to them.

  Crane was just beginning to agree with Billy that their surveillance was a complete waste of time, when his phone rang. It was one of the bouncers on the door at The Goose.

  “Some bloke has just left,” he told Crane. “He’s holding up his girlfriend, who was saying she doesn’t feel right. Can’t put my finger on it, but it looks wrong somehow. I’d say the bloke was completely sober, but trying to act drunk.”

  “Describe them,” Crane said.

  “Tall dark-haired bloke, with small blond-haired woman. She’s got a busty top thing on and he’s got on dark trousers and white shirt. They’re heading your way.”