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

by John Dean

  ‘I have no idea what you are talking about. My name is Darren Mea–’

  ‘Can we stop playing games, please? You’re clearly Alistair, you clearly weren’t murdered and Margaret Hatton is clearly your mother.’

  He was silent for a few more moments.

  ‘So, you know,’ he said eventually. ‘What about it?’

  ‘I need your help,’ said Allatt.

  ‘Look, love, I have a new identity and a new life. I have not spoken to my mother for the best part of twenty years and I have no intention of talking about her either. Some detective from Thames Valley Police tried three or four years ago and I told him the same thing.’

  ‘But we’d not reveal–’

  ‘Yes, but word would get out somehow, wouldn’t it? Especially if you charged her with something. I’d have the media all over me and I don’t want that. I want to protect my children from the intrusion and, if you try to go public with this, you’ll be hearing from my lawyer. I’m sure you understand.’

  ‘I do understand but, unfortunately, this is not just about you, Alistair. Your mother has caused a situation which has cost one life and could yet cost another.’

  ‘Not my problem,’ said Meadows.

  And the line went dead. Allatt sighed and headed out into the corridor and along to Blizzard’s office where the inspector was sitting at his desk.

  ‘How did it go?’ asked Blizzard.

  ‘He doesn’t want to talk,’ replied Allatt. ‘Says he doesn’t want the media intrusion once word gets out.’

  ‘I don’t blame him.’ Blizzard gestured for her to sit, which she did. ‘He’d not get a minute’s peace. So, what do we know for certain?’

  ‘Mainly what the detective at Thames Valley told us. Margaret went through an acrimonious divorce when Alistair was eight and his father was granted custody and took him to New Zealand. We’ve confirmed that much from the passport records. We’re assuming the child did not have much in the way of contact with his mother because after his father died when Alistair was eighteen, he changed his name.’

  ‘So, when did she start claiming that he had been murdered?’

  ‘Several years after she started her safeguarding consultancy. We suspect that it was not going well so she started saying that her child had been murdered by a paedophile to give her extra credibility. She first mentioned it in a newspaper interview, as far as we can see, but changed the name to Alexander just in case anyone queried it. However, they never did and whenever anyone got too close, she just said that she could not give any more details to protect other members of the family. I mean, not many people would dare to challenge such a tragic story, would they?’

  ‘I guess not,’ said Blizzard. ‘Meanwhile, the work started rolling in?’

  ‘It did. At the last count, her charity had received well over a million pounds from government departments and councils wanting her to advise them on safeguarding children. It’s a huge agenda.’

  ‘It certainly is.’

  ‘There’s even a rumour that Councillor Gill has been talking to her about running some workshops for the city council at a cost of £50,000.’

  ‘It’s quite brilliant in its own way,’ said the inspector. ‘Highlight the problem by leading a protest then charge the local council to put it right. Some might even call it elegant.’

  ‘And what would you call it?’

  ‘Me?’ said Blizzard. ‘I’d call it the work of the Devil.’

  Chapter twenty-seven

  The next day was a Saturday and Blizzard was up early again after what little sleep he had managed to snatch had again been disrupted by the nightmare in which he was trapped. He was not sure why it had occurred twice in such a short space of time but suspected that it might be linked to his sense that he was not in full control of things. If often was. He knew that recent events had been allowed to dictate his actions and he determined that the day ahead would put that right.

  After giving Michael his breakfast in front of Thomas the Tank Engine, the inspector arrived at Abbey Road Police Station shortly after 8.00am. He immediately sought out Colley in the CID squad room.

  ‘You ready to crank the pressure up on the good reverend?’ asked the inspector. ‘Hopefully, a night in the cells will have cleared his mind.’

  ‘You might want to delay it a bit,’ said Colley. ‘Margaret Hatton is waiting in front reception.’

  ‘Is she?’ Blizzard sat down. ‘Do you think she knows that we tracked down her son?’

  ‘I doubt it. Alistair is the only one who could have told her and Sarah seems pretty sure that he wants nothing to do with his mother. You going to mention it to her?’

  ‘No, not yet,’ said Blizzard. ‘I’ve got this nagging feeling that there’s more to come out first. Besides, we’ve already got what your mate on the radio station told us about her. That should be enough to rattle her. You sure he’s on the level?’

  ‘Yeah, he’s straight up is Graham.’

  ‘OK, go and get her, will you?’ Blizzard stood up. ‘We’ll see her in my office.’

  Colley left the room, his gait still bearing the shadow of a limp.

  ‘Oh, David!’ shouted Blizzard.

  The sergeant popped his head back round the door.

  ‘Guv?’ he said.

  ‘Are you still planning to play rugby this afternoon?’

  ‘I told the skipper that I’m not available. We’ve got too much on here.’

  ‘I am sure we can spare you for a couple of hours,’ said Blizzard. He gestured to the other officers in the room. ‘We’ve got plenty of bodies and I know that Broughton Nick is a big game. You’ve been looking forward to it for weeks, I think.’

  ‘I have, yes, it’s a real grudge match.’

  ‘Are you in any shape to play?’

  ‘I certainly am not,’ said Colley. ‘The doc says that I should rest my hand for at least three days and my knee is still giving me gyp.’

  ‘But you’re going to play anyway?’

  ‘Certainly am.’

  ‘You’re mad,’ said Blizzard.

  Colley grinned and loped off to the reception area, leaving the inspector shaking his head. A few minutes later, the two detectives were sitting opposite a very different Margaret Hatton. The sharp business suit, deep blue this morning, was still there, the hair was as immaculate as ever and the make-up had been applied perfectly as usual, but the expression on the face was different. There were bags beneath eyes which seemed haunted.

  ‘And what brings you here, Mrs Hatton?’ asked Blizzard. Noting the change in her demeanour, he found himself torn between opposing views – good act put on for the detectives’ benefit by a calculating conwoman, or genuine distress? He came down on the side of the former and his voice hardened. ‘Before we start, are you sure you wouldn’t like to invite a camera crew or two in here to film our meeting? Hey, we could live stream it.’

  She shook her head.

  ‘So, what can we do for you?’ asked Blizzard.

  ‘I need your help,’ she said in a quiet voice. ‘I’ve received death threats.’

  ‘Have you now?’ replied Blizzard. He leaned forward in his chair. ‘Do tell me more.’

  ‘You must be enjoying this.’

  ‘Actually, I’m not. We may have our disagreements, but I don’t like people being threatened, especially not on my patch. What happened?’

  ‘The first one was two nights ago,’ she said. ‘The hotel reception put a call through to my room at eleven o’clock. It was a man’s voice. I didn’t recognise it. He said he had seen my television interview that evening…’

  ‘Refresh my memory, there have been so many,’ said Blizzard.

  ‘The one where I said it was time that paedophiles were driven from the city.’

  ‘Oh, that one,’ said Blizzard. ‘Do I take it your caller did not share your views on social justice?’

  ‘He said that if I said anything else, something horrible would happen to me.’

  ‘Whi
ch, doubtless, you ignored?’

  ‘I gave an interview with local radio yesterday, saying the same thing.’

  ‘And he called again, did he?’ asked the inspector.

  She nodded, her composure crumbling once more. The lips were quivering slightly, and the detectives thought that she appeared close to tears. Definitely a good act, thought Blizzard.

  ‘Eleven thirty last night,’ she said. ‘Same man. He said that I had been warned. I am here because I need protection, Chief Inspector.’

  ‘Well, you’ll not get it from us.’

  ‘But–’

  ‘No buts. Frankly, I’m not surprised you have received death threats. Your use of the media has stirred up strong emotions and made life very difficult for me and my team. How the hell can we conduct our inquiries if everywhere we go there are people waving placards and reporters sticking their noses in?’

  ‘The public has a right to know these things.’

  ‘Not if it jeopardises my investigation, they don’t,’ said Blizzard. ‘To be brutally honest, I’m sick of you and your games. I have a good mind to charge you with perverting the cause of justice.’

  ‘That’s an outrageous thing to say!’ she exclaimed.

  ‘It’s not as outrageous, might I suggest, as colluding with a known villain who you are well aware is of interest to the police.’

  She looked at him uneasily.

  ‘I don’t know what you mean,’ she said.

  ‘Ah, but I think you do,’ said Blizzard. ‘Tell her, Sergeant.’

  ‘We believe that someone tipped Bob Lennox off that we were going to raid The Manor last night,’ said Colley. ‘According to a couple of the drug dealers we arrested, Bob received a phone call a few minutes before we arrived.’

  ‘Well, that’s nothing to do with me.’

  ‘The dealers said the call came from a well-spoken woman.’

  ‘You do not have a very high opinion of the women in your city, Sergeant,’ said Hatton with a slight smile. She had recovered her composure. ‘Surely, you are not suggesting that I am the only well-spoken woman in Hafton?’

  ‘No, but you were probably the only one who knew about the raid. See, a mate of mine is a reporter on the local radio station and his duties include carrying out interviews for the Sunday morning religious affairs show.’

  Hatton looked uncomfortable.

  ‘Last night, he rang me,’ continued the sergeant. ‘He said that he was due to record an interview with you for tomorrow morning’s programme and that I might wish to listen. He said that he had planned to record the interview last night but had to reschedule it because he had to cover the raid on The Manor. He says he rang you on his way to the estate to tell you.’

  Hatton did not reply but the concern was clear on her face.

  ‘So, you see,’ said Blizzard, taking over the attack. ‘We think you knew that Bob was on The Manor and rang him to tip him off. Fortunately for us, he could not alert all his mates in time but he did manage to get away, as did his son. If we can make that stick, I am sure the CPS would happily take the prosecution forward. Care to enlighten us as to why you would do something that stupid?’

  ‘I didn’t mean any harm,’ she said. ‘I acted for the best. We can’t afford any bad publicity while the hostel is still open. Bob being arrested could ruin everything.’

  ‘Not your decision to make, Margaret,’ said Blizzard. ‘Besides, Bob could still be in the frame for the murder of Glenda Rutherford and the attack on Jacob Reed.’

  ‘But I thought the vicar did that.’

  ‘Who knows?’ said Blizzard. ‘But one thing I do know is that you’d better be extremely careful about what you say and do next.’

  Five minutes later, Colley ushered Margaret Hatton out of the building then headed for the inspector’s office where Blizzard was sifting through reports.

  ‘What do you want to do about the death threats?’ asked the sergeant.

  ‘What death threats?’ snorted Blizzard. ‘I don’t think they happened.’

  ‘But we should check it out, surely?’

  ‘You can check with the hotel if you like, David, but I’ll put money on the fact that it’s just another attempt to play the victim card to stop us prying too closely into her affairs. It’s the way she plays the game.’

  ‘I’ll check anyway,’ said Colley.

  ‘Knock yourself out.’

  Colley returned a few minutes later with a rueful look on his face.

  ‘The hotel has no record of either of the calls,’ said the sergeant. ‘You’re right.’

  ‘Always,’ said Blizzard.

  * * *

  The duty manager at St John’s hostel looked at the dishevelled young man who had presented himself at the front desk that morning.

  ‘I can’t just book you in,’ she said. ‘You need to have been referred by someone.’

  ‘My probation officer said you’d take me,’ said the young man. ‘But he’s not back in work until Monday.’

  ‘Well, I can’t really–’

  ‘He suggested I come here because he knows that I have recently seen the light. The Lord has come into my life. I really want to turn things around. My probation officer said you could help me.’

  The duty manager looked at the way the young man’s face had lit up.

  ‘Look, I’ll make an exception for you,’ she said. ‘But just this once and only until Monday when we can talk to him. And you’re welcome to attend one of our services tomorrow.’

  ‘Wild horses couldn’t keep me away,’ said the young man.

  ‘Excellent.’ She reached for a pen and a piece of paper. ‘Now then, what’s your name?’

  ‘Chaz,’ he said. ‘Chaz Gray.’

  Chapter twenty-eight

  The Henry Sanders who faced the detectives in the interview room later that morning was very different to the man that they had expected to see, given what he had gone through. The vicar had been discovered locked in a squalid ground floor flat, sprawled among old newspapers, burger boxes and empty beer cans, his hands tied to a radiator. The doctor at the hospital had confirmed that, in addition to dehydration, he had been the victim of several assaults, which had resulted in a broken nose and two cracked ribs, after which examination he was returned to the police station.

  So, sitting in the interview room, Blizzard and Colley expected to see a cowed man but instead the vicar had dug deep into his reserves and staged a remarkable recovery. He seemed somehow taller, more upright in his chair. He had stopped running and it felt good. Henry Sanders was ready to face his accusers.

  ‘Henry, Henry,’ said Blizzard. He placed a brown folder on the table. ‘For a man of the cloth you seem to have a strange idea of goodness.’

  ‘We are all sinners,’ replied the vicar.

  ‘Yes, we are, but few seem to make such a career out of it.’ Blizzard opened the folder and scanned the top sheet of paper. ‘Your previous church seemed to think that you stole money from them, and Edgar Rose-Harvey would dearly like to have his twenty-eight thousand pounds back.’

  ‘That man!’ spat the vicar.

  ‘Let’s start at the beginning, shall we?’ said Blizzard. ‘And we want the truth. Too many people have been lying to us. Oh, and before you tell us why someone decided to turn you into a punchbag, you should be aware that we know about you and Marian…’

  The vicar started, the first crack showing in his freshly constructed composure.

  ‘There’s nothing to tell,’ he said. It did not sound convincing.

  ‘My, my, stealing, adultery, now lying. You certainly do run through the sins, Henry.’ Blizzard’s voice turned harsh and there was an icy glare in his eyes. ‘But I have enough problems without playing your stupid little games. Marian said you planned to run away together. I take it that was what the money was for?’

  The vicar nodded. His confidence of a few moments previously had evaporated.

  ‘Yes,’ he said. ‘Yes, it was. To set us up for a new life away
from Hafton.’

  ‘Did Jamie know about your affair?’ asked Colley.

  Sanders nodded; something about the sergeant’s more friendly demeanour suggested that he might be easier to deal with.

  ‘Did he approve?’ asked the sergeant.

  ‘He liked me,’ said the vicar. ‘And I liked him. He was a nice kid.’

  ‘So why were you down on the canal path the day he was killed?’ asked Colley. ‘Did you kill him?’

  The vicar’s confidence in the sergeant vanished; clearly, the two detectives were as bad as each other.

  ‘No, I didn’t!’ he said quickly.

  ‘Are you sure about that?’ said the sergeant. ‘Maybe he didn’t like the idea of you running off with his mother, or maybe he knew that you had stolen the money. Maybe you killed him to stop him telling. Maybe you didn’t mean to. Maybe it was manslaughter rather than murder.’

  ‘Never! Never!’ yelled the vicar. He sprang to his feet. ‘Do you hear me? Never! There is no way I would ever hurt that boy!’

  Blizzard jabbed a finger towards the vicar’s chair.

  ‘Sit down,’ he said.

  Sanders remained standing.

  ‘For what it’s worth,’ said Blizzard, ‘I don’t think you killed Jamie Holdsworth.’

  Sanders looked accusingly at Colley.

  ‘He does,’ he said.

  ‘He had to ask,’ said Blizzard. ‘But, no, you didn’t kill Jamie.’

  Relief enveloped the vicar’s face as he slumped back into his chair.

  ‘I thank you for that,’ he said gratefully. ‘I thank you from the bottom of my–’

  ‘But that doesn’t mean that you didn’t kill Glenda Rutherford,’ said the inspector. ‘Or attack Jacob Reed, for that matter.’

  Sanders stared at him in horror, the blood draining from his face.

  ‘You surely don’t think I’d do that,’ he said quietly. His voice tailed off as he stared at them.

  ‘Look at it from our point of view,’ said Blizzard. ‘We know that Jacob Reed had rumbled your fraud and that he confronted you in the hostel. And we know that the only other person who knew you were there was Glenda Rutherford.’

  ‘Yes, but–’