DI Giles BoxSet

by Anna-Marie Morgan

  “Can you remember the names of the other childhood friends?”

  “Tom. Can’t remember his other name. And Stephen Whyte. There may have been others. I don’t recall. We only dated for a couple of years. I doubt she told me everything in that time.”

  “How old was she when she enlisted?”

  “Seventeen.”

  “Do you know where she was, when she was in care? I mean, where she was in North Wales?”

  “Wrexham. She was from Wrexham. Her mum passed away in Wrexham hospital.” Sam stood up. “I’m sorry, officers, but I really have to get on. I can see the lorry drawing up with part of my load on it. I’ve got to check it and sign it in. The lads can’t start the next phase until we’ve unloaded it.”

  “Of course.” Yvonne nodded. “We’ve taken up enough of your time.”

  Just as she got to the door, she turned swiftly on her heel, to face him again. “So sorry, one last thing. Does the name T.H. Davis mean anything to you?”

  Sam looked at her blankly and shrugged. “Sorry.”

  “No matter. Thank you, Mr Walters. You’ve been enormously helpful.”

  Yvonne’s mood had picked up. “Okay, Dewi. We have a connection between these soldiers.”

  “Yeah, we now know how and why they became such good friends, and it pre-dated the army.”

  “It did. The question is, what did they know that put them all at risk?”

  “Are you still thinking something happened out in the field?”

  “It’s a possibility. We still have the personnel files. I say we go over them again. Look at all the places they toured. The weapon used to kill Kate came from Bosnia. Perhaps we should start there.”

  “Right you are, ma’am.”

  Harry Thornton was deep in conversation with DCI Llewellyn when they arrived back in the station.

  “I need to take a leak,” Dewi announced out loud. Thornton and Llewellyn stopped what they were doing and looked at the two detectives.

  “Ah, Inspector Giles. Just the person I’ve been looking for.” Thornton gave Llewellyn a pat on the arm and headed over to the DI. “Shall we go get a coffee?”

  She followed him through to the coffee area, feeling wary.

  “Been anywhere interesting?” he asked, and she again felt crumpled and dog-eared in his presence. Even the knot of his well-chosen tie was perfect.

  She, in comparison, had mud splashed up her stockings, damp creases in her shirt, and a coffee stain on her blouse. He was looking at it.

  She eyed him coolly, choosing not to answer his question.

  “Look,” he hissed, grabbing her by the arm and closing the door behind her. “Stop with all this us-and-them bullshit. I’m not competing with you. We’re not hiding anything from you. We had nothing to do with Corporal Whyte’s death.”

  Yvonne stood, wide-eyed at the outburst.

  He continued, “Do you think it’s easy for us? You know they call us ‘the feds’. That’s the name the sappers call us. Their mouths are tighter than a ducks arse, the minute we come on the scene. Closed ranks, disappearing paperwork, we’ve seen the lot.” His eyes relaxed a little. “Look, I want to know who killed Kate Nilsson and Stephen Whyte as much as you do.” He appeared deflated, like all the fight had suddenly left him.

  Yvonne could feel the heat in her cheeks. She felt guilty for upsetting him and shutting him out. “I’m sorry, Harry. Sometimes in this job it’s hard to know who to trust.”

  “I get that.” He let go of her arm. “Most people see the army as one cohesive unit. They don’t see the internal struggles and conflicting needs within it.”

  “Tea?” Yvonne looked towards the kettle.

  “Please.” He nodded and a smile brightened his face. “Let you have both barrels then, didn’t I?”

  The DI laughed, with genuine warmth. “You certainly did, Harold Thornton.”

  With hot teas going down nicely, he pulled a face. “I’m afraid I have some bad news for you.”

  “You haven’t found T.H.Davis?”

  “No. Sorry. We found a T.L.Davis and a J.H.Davis. We found a fair few Davises, actually, but not the one you’re looking for.”

  Yvonne believed him. “It’s okay.” She sighed. “It was a long shot. Kate had written the name down. It was among some things at her parents. Thing is, she gave no clue as to why she had written it. I just thought it might be a soldier.”

  “Yeah, well, we checked present and ex-army records, and no-one.”

  I guess it’ll remain a mystery, for now, but thank you for checking. I do appreciate it.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  Dewi joined them for a brew and Yvonne relaxed more than she had in a while. The air had needed clearing and she was glad it was done.

  After the tea, Yvonne found her bag and checked her phone. She had three missed calls. She didn’t recognise the number but tried ringing it. She got the voicemail of Billy Rawlins and left a message to say she was sorry she’d missed him and could he please call her back when he got the message. She left the phone on her desk all afternoon, but there were no further calls from him.

  15

  Making connections

  Yvonne and Tasha had agreed to meet at their favourite talking shop, ‘The Bank’ tea rooms, in Newtown.

  The DI had been waiting a good fifteen minutes, by the time her friend arrived, and was already studying the photographs found in Kate’s room.

  The two most important were the ones of Kate, Wayne and Stephen together, and the older one of Scotty, Helen and Tom. She placed them next to each other, flicking her gaze between them.

  The pictures shared similarities, from the poses of the two guys and one girl, to the objects in the street behind them. They were taken maybe fifteen years apart. That was evident from the cars, parked along the street. There were a few minor changes in the scenery, but there was no doubting it was the same street, and almost exactly the same spot.

  She took out her notebook and flicked through her interview notes from everyone she had talked to in connection with the case. She was in the middle of this, when Tasha rushed in, sporting a big grin.

  “What are we having, then?” Tasha plopped her bag and coat onto one chair, and herself on another.

  “Homity pie and strong apple tea.” Yvonne grinned back. “Thought you might be late, so I started working.”

  “Yeah. Sorry about that. Traffic was heavier than usual today. Extra disruption from the bypass works. So, you’ve been busy, then.” Tasha nodded towards the notes and photos in front of the DI.

  “Take a look at these pictures.” Yvonne placed the two of interest in front of her friend.

  “Oh, yes.” Tasha placed them side-by-side. “Two sets of friends, years apart. Five of the six are now dead.” She looked up at the Yvonne, both deadly serious at the implications.

  “We ought to warn Forster and get some protection put in place for Wayne Hedges.” Yvonne pursed her lips.

  Tasha nodded. “So, am I looking for anything else in these?”

  “Look at the background, Tasha.”

  It didn’t take too long. “We’re looking at the same street, just a different time.”

  “Right. These two photographs were taken in the same spot. My question is why? And is it significant?”

  Tasha peered more closely at the photo which included Kate. “You know, these three look like they are celebrating something.”

  “I would like to speak to Wayne again, and find out where these photos were taken. I’ve got a feeling they were taken in Wrexham.”

  “Oh?” Tasha raised her eyebrows. “What makes you say that?”

  “Well,” Yvonne checked her notes, “Gordon McEwan told me Scotty grew up in Wrexham. The care homes were there, and so, too, his foster carers. Sam Walters told me Helen Reynolds grew up in Wrexham - also in care homes and foster care.”

  Tasha pointed. “There’s part of a sign in these photos on the restaurant, in the background. Maybe we can use Googl
e’s ‘Up My Street’ to try to find it.”

  “What’s wrong with visiting Wrexham? And how did you know I’d want to see the street?”

  “I know you.” Tasha laughed. “But, I agree. There’s something about those two photographs being eerily similar. It suggests the second one was taken in that spot by design.”

  “Agreed.” Yvonne flicked to another page in her notebook. “I have a name for the children’s home. It was called Sunnymede. See the partial sign?”

  “Oh, I see what you’re suggesting. They could perhaps be outside Sunnymede children’s home.”

  “Just a thought. Maybe after lunch, we should go back to the station and Google Sunnymede and find out. A tour around with ‘Up My Street’, could tell us if we’re on the right track.”

  “Wow.” Tasha sat back in her chair. “I should be late for our meetings more often.”

  The homity pie and apple teas were delivered to the table and they said relatively little as they finished them. Both were lost in their own thoughts about the dead youngsters in the photographs.

  The DCI was waiting for Yvonne when she got back. “Can I have a word?” He appeared stressed and she bit her lip.

  Tasha slunk out and went to find Dewi.

  “Yvonne, Private Billy Rawlins has gone missing from Dale Barracks. He’s AWOL.”

  “AWOL? Seriously? Oh no.” She frowned. “Well, we’ve got to find him.”

  “Cheshire Police are looking into the disappearance but they want to know what we know.”

  “They want our help?”

  “Not exactly. They want to know what you know about the disappearance.”

  “What I know? Well, I know nothing. I didn’t know he was going to disappear, if that’s what you’re suggesting.”

  “Apparently, yours was the last number he tried to ring, before he disappeared. He tried you several times, apparently. Did you speak to him?”

  “No. No, I didn’t. But, that’s right.” Yvonne was remembering the missed calls. “I had three missed calls on my phone. At the time, I didn’t know who they were from, but I rang the number back and got his voicemail message. I left a message for him to try me again. I kept my phone on all afternoon, but he didn’t call.”

  “I see.” Llewellyn paced over to the window. “Maybe he killed Private Nilsson and Corporal Whyte. Perhaps he wanted to confess to you but changed his mind and legged it.”

  “I don’t think so, sir.”

  “No?”

  “I just don’t see Billy as someone who could run down and assassinate Kate or Stephen. Anyway, he loved Kate.”

  “Well, stalkers do kill.”

  “I don’t think he was stalking her, sir.”

  “Even so. He is now a person of extreme interest, both to the military police and to Cheshire Police. He has also become our number one suspect in the murder of Kate Nilsson.”

  “Wait.” Yvonne strode over to Llewellyn. “How did they know he phoned me? Did they get the phone records already?”

  “Not yet. His phone was left in his room. The lights were on and the door had been left wide open. Like he’d left in a hurry.”

  “Did he have his wallet with him?”

  “Yes. He had money and a small rucksack. They think he took his bedroll with him too.”

  “But he left his phone.”

  “Yes.”

  “Seems odd.”

  “A phone would make him easier to trace. I think he probably left his phone behind so he couldn’t be found.” Llewellyn folded his arms.

  Yvonne needed time. Time to get her head around this latest development. She didn’t believe for one minute that Billy was the killer of Kate and Stephen. So why, then, had he gone missing? She felt a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach. She left Llewellyn and went in search of Dewi and Tasha.

  “I think Billy Rawlins might be in danger,” she announced, as she found them chatting in the corridor.

  She filled them in with what the DCI had told her. Then added, “Llewellyn’s got him pegged as the number one suspect.”

  “Well, I can understand why…” Dewi leaned his head on one side. “You would, wouldn’t you?”

  Yvonne shook her head and looked towards Tasha. “Tasha, you were there when I interviewed Billy. What did you think? Oh, and he tried to call me yesterday. He tried three times and then left his phone behind in his room.”

  Tasha narrowed her eyes, looking down at the floor for what seemed like an age. “I’m inclined to agree with you, Yvonne. I think it unlikely that Billy is our killer. I know he’s a soldier, but hunting down his own? I can’t see it. I think he’d struggle even to kill the enemy out in the field. But we shouldn’t completely discount the idea. If found, he should be approached with caution.”

  Dewi fired up his laptop, Yvonne drumming her fingers on the back of his chair. Tasha had zoned out, deep in thought, behind them.

  “Come on. Come on.” Dewi frowned at the rotating symbol in the centre of the screen. “Damn wifi.”

  As soon as Google came up, Dewi typed in ‘Sunnymede, Wrexham’. The result ran over a number of pages. Still on the first page, Yvonne gave Tasha a poke. “That’s it.”

  “You’re sure that’s the one?” Tasha scratched her head. “I thought you said it was a children’s home?”

  “And this is a hotel and restaurant.” Yvonne nodded. “You’re right. Perhaps we should keep looking.”

  Dewi clicked on every link on the first three pages. After that, the suggestions were way off anything they were looking for. He stopped clicking and turned to his two companions. “Still coming back to the hotel and restaurant as the nearest match.”

  “Okay. Well, let’s click further into that one and see what comes up. Maybe it used to be a children’s home.”

  They found a link on the homepage, titled ‘History’, and clicked on it.

  “Wow.” Yvonne put her hand through her hair. “Bingo.”

  Dewi read out loud: “Began as an orphanage in the Victorian era and became a children’s home in the fifties.” Dewi got up from the chair to allow Yvonne to read in more depth.

  “Looks like this is definitely the Sunnymede we’re after.” She frowned. “But the reunions.” She looked disappointed. “I felt sure those two photographs were taken at some sort of reunion.” She clicked back to the homepage. “That sign. The first part of it is definitely the one from the photographs.”

  Tasha leaned back against the desk. “Well, it’s a hotel and restaurant. Doesn’t it make sense that they might meet up there? It didn’t need to have been organised at the children’s home. Particularly if that home no longer exists as a home.”

  “You’re right, of course. All I meant was, if it’s no longer a children’s home, all records will likely have gone.”

  “Why don’t we go along to the place and ask? If there were reunions, the owners would most likely know.” Dewi raised his brows and shrugged. “They may be able to confirm with us the names of people who attended.”

  “T.H.Davis.” Yvonne’s eyes shone. “I wonder…”

  The journey to Wrexham was a lot more smooth than they’d anticipated. Once there, and with the sat nav, they found their destination easily. Parking, however, was a different matter and, if they had had a swear box on board, Dewi would have been broke.

  He had a distinctly dishevelled look, as they got out of the car, his tie angled sideways, his shirt crumpled. The temperature dictated they wear big coats, saving his pride. Yvonne smiled to herself.

  Tasha waited for them in the car.

  The hotel had been painted recently. It stood out from the more bedraggled looking buildings next to it. It had the appearance of being well-cared for. A neat and symmetrical garden led to a similarly neat and well-balanced frontage. The sign next to the door boasted four stars. The front door was bounded by a large porch, with a freshly-painted, gold lattice-work top.

  A tall man in his late-thirties met them in the lobby. “Mark Aston.” He gave both of
ficers a firm handshake. “Come on in.”

  Off to her right, Yvonne could see the glass-fronted entrance to the lobby. She’d recognised the outside as that in Kate’s photographs, and was now scanning the restaurant to see if she could locate where the inside photos were taken.

  A female diner gave her a stern look and the DI turned her attention back to Mark Aston. She was surprised to find his grey-blue eyes on her.

  Dewi was deeply engaged in informing Mark of their reasons for being there. She rubbed the scar on her chin, suddenly conscious of it. Her skin flushed. She cleared her throat, noisily. “Thanks for seeing us, Mark. I realise you’re running a busy hotel here.” She could hear the constant clatter and voices from the restaurant, and both staff and guests wandered to and fro, as she spoke. “Is there somewhere we can go?”

  “Oh, yes. Of course.” He appeared to come to, as though having been away in his thoughts for a while. He ran a hand over his forehead and on through his light-brown hair, his brow furrowed. “Let’s go into the office. We’ll be able to hear ourselves think in there.”

  It was a well-ordered office. The DI was impressed. The whole place, so far, appeared to be run efficiently. Staff appeared focussed and competent.

  “How long have you managed the hotel?” She pulled out her notebook.

  “Seven years.” He smiled. “I took over from my father, when he became too ill to run it himself.”

  “Your father’s ill? I’m sorry.”

  He grimaced. “Dementia. It’s a helluva thing.”

  Yvonne nodded. “It looks to me like you’re doing a great job.” She smiled, shifting her weight between feet.

  “Oh, please…sit down.” He pulled out a couple of chairs for them and then pulled out his own from behind his desk. “It took me a couple of years to fully get into the swing of things and to earn the staff’s trust. But, yes, I hope I’m living up to my father’s legacy.”