NO AGE TO DIE: The release of a dangerous prisoner leads to murder (DCI John Blizzard Book 9)

by John Dean

  Marian gave a small sob.

  ‘Not the only time you have seen fit to discipline him, it would seem.’ Blizzard glanced down at a crumpled piece of paper which he had fished out of his jacket pocket and on which he had scrawled some notes. ‘Three years ago, Jamie was taken to hospital with a broken arm and social services came to interview you – as did one of our Western CID officers.’

  ‘Nowt were ever proved,’ said Holdsworth.

  ‘Maybe not, Steve, but it is interesting information given that your son has just been killed, is it not?’ said the inspector.

  Marian burst into tears as her husband stood up and glared at the inspector with a baleful expression. Blizzard wondered if he was about to lose his temper and lunge at him but Holdsworth managed, with some difficulty, to master his fury and sat back down.

  ‘You can try all you like to suggest that I had something to do with Jamie’s death,’ said Holdsworth. ‘But I were on a rig in the North Sea when it happened.’

  ‘But were you?’ said Blizzard. He glanced down at the piece of paper again. ‘Does the name Brian Brattan mean anything to you, Mr Holdsworth?’

  It was as if the big man had been punched. He gaped at the detective for a moment or two, his mouth opening and shutting several times, then slumped back into his chair.

  ‘Who is this Brian Brattan?’ asked his wife. She had viewed the change in her husband with amazement.

  ‘He’s your husband’s supervisor on the rig,’ said Blizzard. ‘Isn’t that right, Steve?’

  The big man nodded.

  ‘They go way back,’ said the inspector. ‘They’ll do anything for each other. Indeed, Brian initially said that it was he who arranged to fly your husband home when he heard that Jamie had been killed. Except, you were not on the rig, were you, Steve? You were nowhere near it.’

  Holdsworth hesitated then shook his head. His face was ashen, his cheeks were sunken and his eyes darted round the room like those of a caged animal.

  ‘Not on the rig?’ said Marian. ‘I don’t understand.’

  ‘Brian Brattan made it all up,’ said Blizzard. ‘Your husband had flown over to the mainland a couple of days earlier.’

  ‘But why?’ said Marian. She turned horrified eyes on her husband, demanding an answer. Steve averted his gaze.

  ‘It’s a good question,’ said Blizzard. ‘Unfortunately, all he told Brian Brattan was that it was a personal matter. However, unless he comes up with a good explanation, it means he has no alibi for the time of your son’s death. Anything to say, Steve?’

  Holdsworth shook his head.

  ‘In which case,’ said Blizzard, ‘Steve Holdsworth, I have no alternative but to arrest you on suspicion of the murder of Jamie Holdsworth. Inform him of his rights, please, Sergeant.’

  As Marian Holdsworth slumped in her chair in floods of tears, Colley led the stunned Holdsworth into the cold evening air. Following him to the car, Blizzard tried to push to the back of his mind the nagging doubts that they had just arrested the wrong man.

  * * *

  The chief constable was halfway through his talk to the Neighbourhood Forum being staged that evening in the hall attached to St Cuthbert’s Church when the protestors barged their way into the room. He watched angrily as Margaret Hatton, followed by a number of placard-wielding followers, made their way down the central aisle, followed by a television crew.

  ‘What is the meaning of this?’ asked the Chief.

  ‘We represent the people opposed to the hostel at St John’s,’ said Hatton. ‘And since we can get no sense out of your officers, we have come to demand answers from you.’

  ‘Well, if you care to wait until the end of–’

  ‘Is it true that you have arrested the father of Jamie Holdsworth?’ asked Hatton. ‘Even though he was not even in Hafton at the time his son was killed?’

  ‘I am not in the position to confirm or–’

  ‘And is it true too that you have lost track of Albert Macklin, who surely has to be your main suspect for the murder?’

  ‘Yeah,’ said Bob Lennox. He moved to the front of the group and jabbed an accusatory finger at the chief constable. ‘How many more innocent children does he have to kill before you fuckers do something about him?’

  The Chief scowled. He hated being asked questions to which he had no answers.

  Chapter eighteen

  Sitting at his desk the next morning, Blizzard had an acute sense of problems piling up on him as he listened gloomily to the rain drumming incessantly against the office window. He looked up as Arthur Ronald walked into the office shortly after 8.30am and sat down opposite his friend with a troubled look on his face.

  ‘Did you see the report on the breakfast news?’ asked the superintendent.

  ‘I am afraid so.’

  ‘The Chief’s furious. Even worse than last night. He hates being made to look foolish, which is clearly what Margaret Hatton set out to achieve. It would help if we can charge Steve Holdsworth. Is he our man?’

  ‘Honestly, Arthur? No, he’s not but until he tells us where he was, he’s the best we have. Things were not helped when his solicitor advised him to say nothing.’

  ‘Who was it?’ asked the superintendent.

  ‘Ledbury, which did not exactly help the situation. I am hoping that a night in the cells might have loosened Holdsworth’s tongue.’

  ‘And if it hasn’t?’

  Blizzard did not reply. When the superintendent had gone, the inspector thought for a moment then strode out of the office with a sense of purpose. He walked along the corridor to the CID room where Sarah Allatt was the only officer present.

  ‘Where is everyone?’ he asked.

  ‘Out on inquiries, sir, and the sarge is in the kitchen making a cuppa. Anything I can do?’

  ‘Yeah.’ Blizzard lowered his voice. ‘I want you to do some checking up for me, but I want it kept on the QT. I don’t want anyone to know you’re doing it.’

  ‘What kind of checking up?’

  ‘I want to know everything about Margaret Hatton.’

  Allatt gave him a doubtful look.

  ‘There’ll be hell on if anyone finds out,’ she said.

  ‘Which is why I want you to be discreet,’ said Blizzard. ‘I’m trusting you on this one, Sarah. I don’t want the rumour mill to get hold of what we’re doing.’

  ‘Yes, sir.’

  Blizzard turned as Colley walked into the room, carrying a couple of steaming mugs.

  ‘Ah, David,’ said the inspector. ‘When you’ve finished that, we can have another go at Steve Holdsworth.’

  * * *

  Two hours later and sitting in the stuffy little interview room – Blizzard with his shirt sleeves rolled up, Colley having retained his suit jacket – the detectives were getting nowhere.

  ‘Come on, Steve,’ said Blizzard wearily. He leaned forward over the table. ‘Do yourself a favour. If you tell us where you were, we can straighten this thing out.’

  ‘I ain’t saying nothing,’ said Holdsworth. He glanced at his lawyer for reassurance.

  ‘My client has gone through this numerous times already,’ said Ledbury, a weasel-faced man with sallow cheeks and thin lips and sharply dressed in a black suit. ‘He has reasons for keeping confidential his whereabouts. Frankly, Chief Inspector, I do not see that he has to tell you anything.’

  ‘Yes, but it does not look good for him if he keeps quiet,’ said Blizzard. ‘Can’t you see that?’

  ‘Regardless of where he was, you have nothing to suggest that he murdered his son. Your case is extremely weak and a couple of unsubstantiated incidents several years ago does not mean that he is a murderer.’

  ‘Yes, but unless he tells me–’

  ‘I suggest that you charge him or release him,’ said the solicitor. ‘Because my client will not utter a further word.’

  ‘Pha!’ exclaimed Blizzard.

  He stood up, sending his chair crashing backwards, and stalked furiously from the room. Ledb
ury watched as Colley picked up the chair.

  ‘I take it my client is free to go?’ asked the lawyer.

  ‘What do you think?’ said the sergeant.

  ‘I am at somewhat of a loss about what to think,’ said Ledbury. ‘Your boss seems to be grasping at straws, Sergeant. Not his style at all, I would venture to suggest.’

  Colley did not reply but walked from the room. In the corridor, he found Blizzard leaning against the wall, a dark expression on his face. The sergeant knew that expression, it was the one which the inspector’s face assumed when he was not in control of a situation.

  ‘Sorry,’ said Blizzard.

  ‘There’s no need to apologise,’ said Colley. He closed the interview room door so that Holdsworth and his solicitor could not overhear their conversation. ‘Especially not to a lowly sergeant.’

  ‘Yes, there is, David. I shouldn’t have lost it. If he keeps this up, we will have no option but to let him go.’

  Colley hesitated.

  ‘Maybe it’s for the best,’ he ventured eventually. ‘Maybe he’s not guilty.’

  He watched his boss with trepidation, not sure if the comment would elicit an explosion of anger. It didn’t.

  ‘Maybe he’s not,’ admitted Blizzard. ‘There may be a perfectly innocent explanation for his absence. Maybe he’s been having an affair and does not want his wife to find out.’

  ‘Maybe he has, but if that’s the case, surely now is the time to tell us?’

  ‘You’d think.’

  The inspector’s mobile phone rang. He took the call, listened for a moment then slipped the phone back into his pocket.

  ‘Maybe this will throw some light on the situation,’ he said. ‘Glenda Rutherford wishes to see us. Says she has something important to tell us. Do you know, I have been to church more times in the past few days than in my entire life.’

  ‘Amen to that,’ said the sergeant.

  Chapter nineteen

  The detectives sat in the office at the hostel and surveyed a distressed Glenda Rutherford and a scowling Edgar Rose-Harvey.

  ‘You have something to tell us, I think,’ said Blizzard.

  Glenda nodded, struggling for the composure needed to tell her story.

  ‘I have not been straight with you,’ she said.

  ‘You’d not be the first to have misled us at St John’s.’

  Rose-Harvey glared at him but said nothing.

  ‘So, what do you want to tell us?’ asked the inspector.

  ‘I didn’t want to say anything earlier because it looks bad for Henry,’ Glenda said. She dabbed her tear-filled eyes with a tissue. ‘However, I understand you know that money has gone missing.’

  ‘And how come you know about it?’ asked Blizzard.

  ‘Jacob told me.’

  ‘And how did he know?’

  ‘One of his jobs was to do the accounts for the church,’ said Glenda. ‘He told me on the night he was injured that he had just discovered that twenty-eight thousand pounds was missing after the bank had queried the signature on a document. Jacob discovered that someone had been taking money and he suspected it was Henry.’

  ‘God knows why he did not tell me,’ said Rose-Harvey, who had been listening with increasing frustration. ‘I mean, why did I have to find out in a letter sent by the bank? It’s my bloody church, after all!’

  ‘And there was me thinking it belonged to the risen Lord,’ said Blizzard. ‘But it’s a good question, Glenda. How come Jacob did not tell the people who run the church?’

  ‘He wanted to be sure. It’s a big thing to accuse a vicar of stealing.’

  ‘Is that why Sanders came to see him here that night?’ asked Colley.

  ‘It was, yes. Jacob told him that he needed to discuss an important matter with him. Henry must have guessed what it was about.’

  ‘And now Jacob is lying seriously ill in a hospital bed and the vicar has disappeared,’ said Blizzard.

  ‘And with our money,’ said Rose-Harvey. ‘I just cannot believe that he would do this after we gave him another chance…’

  ‘Another chance?’ asked Blizzard. He looked sharply at Rose-Harvey. ‘What do you mean another chance?’

  Rose-Harvey sighed.

  ‘I suppose you had to find out sometime,’ he said. ‘The vicar is a sinner.’

  ‘Frankly, the whole lot of you seem to specialise in it,’ said Blizzard.

  ‘Indeed,’ replied Rose-Harvey with a wan smile. ‘But Henry more than most, Chief Inspector. You see, after we took over the church, we became suspicious about money going missing. Only small amounts. We thought it might be Henry.’

  ‘Did you call the police?’

  ‘No. Henry denied it and we wanted to avoid a scandal. We’d only just taken over here and there’s precious few people coming to church without frightening them off with the thought that their collection money is going into the vicar’s holiday fund.’

  ‘How come you let him stay in his job?’ asked the inspector.

  ‘He assured us that he was innocent. We weren’t convinced – he was an accountant before being ordained. If anyone knew how to conceal theft, it was Henry.’

  ‘So, if you had suspicions, why did you not sack him?’ asked Colley. He was unable to keep the sense of disbelief out of his voice.

  ‘Ah, Sergeant, Sergeant, if only you truly understood the power of forgiveness. You see, our risen Lord sees a thousand times more reward in one sinner who repents than in a hundred who do not.’ Rose-Harvey’s face assumed a familiar dreamy expression. ‘Henry Sanders was an opportunity for us to demonstrate the truth of that belief.’

  ‘And how did that go?’ asked Blizzard sourly.

  ‘Henry was a work in progress, Chief Inspector. Repentance does not happen overnight. You see, as Christians, we have to take risks for what we believe. We have to reach out and touch the very essence of–’

  ‘Oh, for God’s sake!’ exclaimed Blizzard.

  ‘There,’ beamed Rose-Harvey, ‘you’re getting the idea!’

  Chapter twenty

  ‘This is hopeless,’ said Danny Rowan as he stood in the middle of a patch of brick-strewn wasteland on the edge of the city centre. He looked at his fellow constable in exasperation. ‘We’ll never find the old girl.’

  ‘Agreed,’ said Keith Leighton. ‘It’s a needle in a haystack job. God knows what Blizzard thinks we can achieve after all this time.’

  It was early afternoon and the two officers had spent hours searching for Martha Raine. It had been a dispiriting experience and, as the rain started to fall, neither officer was in a good mood.

  ‘I mean,’ continued Leighton. ‘Who’s to say that she came this way anyway? She could just as easily have headed towards the river. Taken a header and ended up in the sea. She could have been carried over to Holland for all we know. She may never be found.’

  Rowan nodded gloomily and the constables headed back to the street where an elderly man had been standing watching them with interest for several minutes.

  ‘Can I help you?’ asked Rowan.

  ‘Just wondering what you were doing,’ said the old man.

  ‘We’re from Abbey Road. We’re looking for an elderly woman who went missing last year.’

  ‘Not Martha Raine, by any chance?’

  ‘You know her?’

  ‘We used to go to the same church. St John’s.’ The old man shook his head sadly.

  ‘I don’t suppose you have any idea where she might have gone?’ said Leighton.

  ‘I am afraid not,’ said the old man. ‘There was a big search at the time, you know. Helicopters. Divers in the canal. They searched all these places. How come you’re looking for her now? Has something happened?’

  ‘Our DCI wants to make sure that we didn’t miss anything.’

  ‘Well, I hope you do find her,’ said the old man. He turned to go. ‘What they did to Martha at that church was unforgivable.’

  ‘What did they do to her?’ asked Rowan.

&
nbsp; ‘Cut her off. Refused to talk to her. A woman like that who had given so much to the church being ignored by a bunch of young’uns. They wouldn’t even let her arrange the flowers. It weren’t right.’ There was anger in the old man’s voice. ‘That woman deserved better. She should be able to rest in peace and Tom needs to know what happened to her, an’ all. Good luck, gentlemen.’

  The constables watched him head off down the street. They were silent for a few moments, digesting the old man’s words.

  ‘Come on,’ said Leighton. ‘Let’s keep looking.’

  Rowan nodded.

  ‘And let’s find her,’ he said.

  * * *

  ‘So,’ said Arthur Ronald, ‘it’s all down to a crooked vicar, is it then?’

  ‘It’s looking that way,’ said Blizzard. ‘Give it long enough and he’ll end up on one of your beloved Channel 5 programmes. Who knows, Arthur, you could end up being interviewed by Stacey Dooley.’

  It was mid-afternoon and the two men were sitting with David Colley in the superintendent’s office, sipping at their customary mugs of tea. Following yet another call from the chief constable, Ronald had requested an update.

  ‘And you agree, do you?’ asked the superintendent. He looked at Colley. ‘Is it all down to the vicar?’

  ‘I reckon so. He’s a one-man crimewave is Henry Sanders. I’m even coming round to the governor’s theory that he might have killed the kid.’

  ‘But what have you got to back it up?’ said Ronald. ‘We’ve already arrested one innocent man, we need to be sure about Sanders before we take him into custody.’

  ‘Well, for a start, he’s got form,’ said Colley. ‘I talked to someone at his previous church in Welwyn Garden City and, after I pressed her, she admitted that they had their suspicions about him after money went missing there as well. That’s why he left.’

  ‘So how come St John’s took him?’ asked Ronald.

  ‘They didn’t know anything about it. The people at Welwyn Garden City gave him a glowing reference.’

  ‘Yeah,’ said Blizzard. ‘Lo, did Moses come down from the mountain and decree that thou shalt conceal thine vicar’s dodgy employment record? They were desperate to be rid of him, Arthur. Don’t tell me you haven’t done the same thing in your time. I certainly have. And, like Rose-Harvey said, churches are desperate to avoid a scandal.’