DI Giles BoxSet

by Anna-Marie Morgan

  “Okay. I don’t know this area that well.”

  “Looking at Google maps, I saw two possible places within five miles from where he was found. One was not far from here, located near Vaynor housing estate, in Newtown. The other was five miles away, in Caersws. I think Vaynor is a strong candidate because the river is deep enough for the body to sink. I’m told there are eddying currents there, too. Caersws, I’m not so sure. I might leave that one to river experts to check out.”

  “Wanna take a look up Vaynor area, now?” Tasha nodded in the direction of the main car park. “My car’s over there.”

  “Let’s go.”

  17

  Swirls and Eddies

  They parked the car just off the main road and headed towards Vaynor top field. From there, it was a relatively short distance to the river. The approach was shielded by thick bushes and tree cover. This could be the ideal place for the murderer to dispose of the body.

  Yvonne looked across at Tasha, who was standing, hands on hips, lips pursed. “Good candidate?”

  “I’d say so.” Tasha headed for the tree line.

  “One moment, Tasha.” Yvonne placed a hand on her arm. “Let’s not take the direct route. If this was the dump site chosen by the killer, he would have likely taken the shortest route possible to the river. Let’s go the long way round. If we’re right, SOCO will be hacked off if we’ve tramped all over any evidence.”

  Tasha nodded. “Of course.”

  They followed the hedge line as closely as they could, Yvonne keeping an eye out for anything that could be possible evidence. A squashed and dirty plastic bottle and faded crisp packet was all she’d seen so far. Both of which were unlikely to have been left there in the right time frame. Even so, she gave them a wide birth. As they approached the tree-line, she paused, looking for a likely entryway. A place where someone could carry a body through, whilst not being too hampered by brush and branches.

  “I reckon those are the two most likely routes. What do you think?” The DI pointed them out to Tasha.

  The psychologist nodded.“They look good to me.”

  Yvonne stopped before going through the first one and looked back in the direction of the housing estate. “You know, this is not particularly overlooked at all.” There was a two-foot wide dirt patch, where nothing much was growing. She suspected that children from the estate must come down here reasonably regularly. But at night, it would be almost pitch black. Good cover for a killer.

  Once through the bushes, the ground banked straight down, only a few feet to the river. Yvonne put both hands deep in her trouser pockets, leaning on one leg. “This is as far as we should go, just in case.” Her voice was soft. “But, I think this place is ideal. The river looks deep here. I’ll request that SOCO take a look.”

  “Wait a minute.” Tasha stared at a place just above the DI’s head and pointed. “Look.”

  Yvonne swung round, eyes rapidly searching for what Tasha was looking at. Her heart thumped in her chest, her breathing more rapid. “Oh my god.” She was open-mouthed.

  “The Roman numeral for four.” Tasha’s eyes were alive. “Didn’t you say that William was victim number four?”

  “I did. He was. Steven Bryant was victim number three.”

  “Looks like thick chalk.”

  “I think this is the place.” Yvonne took out her mobile and took photographs.

  “I’m guessing we can’t go down to the waterline?” Tasha grimaced. She already knew the answer.

  The DI shook her head. “No. Not yet. But we’ll get these photographs back to the station and compare with those I took of the chalked two lines, where Lloyd’s phone was found. If this is what I think it is, then there’ll be a one-stroke chalk mark where James was found.

  18

  A garbled message

  There was sweat on Dewi’s forehead and upper lip and his tie was unusually loose, as Yvonne and Tasha headed into CID.

  “You okay, Dewi?” Yvonne searched his face.

  “Where have you been? I’ve been looking for you all over.”

  “Oh.” The DI looked taken aback. “Well, why didn’t you call me?”

  “I did. Three times.” Dewi took a couple of deep breaths.

  The DI pulled her mobile out of her bag. Sure enough, there were three missed calls.“Oh, so you did. Sorry. Must have been in a bad signal area.” She shrugged. “Come on, then. What’s up?” She ran an impatient hand through her hair.

  “One of James Owen’s friends has been in touch. We’ve got his mobile phone. He thinks James left him a message the night he disappeared?”

  “What?” Yvonne looked at him, wide-eyed. “Well, where is it? Why are we only hearing about this, now?”

  “The friend’s phone has been playing up, or so he says, and he wasn’t able to access his voicemail. When he finally did, he had half a dozen massages, including one he thinks came from James.”

  “What do you mean, he thinks? Didn’t he check the number?”

  “Yeah. But, like I said, he had a load of messages and the phone’s playing up.”

  “Okay.”

  “We’ve sent it for a forensic clean-up and production of a digital copy. However, good ole Clayton has made a copy for us to be going on with. It’s on his laptop. We’ve just been listening to it. Wanna hear?”

  “Is the pope catholic? Of course I want to hear. Let’s go.”

  Clayton, Dewi, Yvonne and Tasha crammed around the laptop on Clayton’s desk. Clayton had been listening through earphones. He took them out. “I thought we could all listen together, then take turns at listening through these. He held up the phones. Maybe write down what we think we hear. That way, we can compare. I’ll warn you, ma’am, it’s not easy to decipher.”

  Yvonne nodded. “Okay, go for it.”

  Yvonne leaned her head forward and down, straining to make out the words. The caller sounded under the influence and was speaking fast, almost running his words into each other. He sounded out of breath. Her overall impression was that he was scared of something or someone.

  “Can you play it again?” she asked, as the call came to an abrupt end.

  “Sure.” Clayton pressed the replay symbol.

  ‘Illegible, illegible, are you there? Where are you? I’m illegible, illegible the bridge. There’s someone illegible, illegible me. I can’t illegible, illegible, illegible the roundabout. Are you in town? I illegible police.’ The caller had paused speaking at this point, and a loud and fast breathing could be heard, followed by a muffled sound - almost as though the caller had hurriedly placed the phone in his pocket. More words followed, possibly a short conversation, but these were so muffled they were impossible to decipher.

  Dewi sighed, “I think he may have put his phone on loud speaker at the end, ‘cos I swear I can hear two voices.”

  Yvonne nodded. “Me too, but I think he may have put his phone in his pocket, or held it too tightly. I can’t hear what they’re saying.”

  “Want to try the headphones now?” Clayton plugged them into the laptop and passed them to her.

  “Thank you.” Yvonne placed them over her ears, and closed her eyes.

  ‘Pete, illegible, are you there? Where are you? I’m crossing illegible, chased?…over the river. There someone? something? Illegible, illegible, me. I can’t get illegible, illegible, the roundabout. Are you in town? I heard? need? Police.’

  The DI requested she listen to it one more time and wrote down what she thought he was saying. Afterwards, the others took their turns, each writing down what they thought had been said.

  “Okay, let’s compare notes.” Yvonne threw her pad onto the table. “That’s my take on it. Anyone got anything different or anything to add?”

  “I got, ‘please’, not Pete.” Dewi frowned. “The friend’s name is Mark.”

  “I heard, ‘please’, too.” Tasha nodded.

  “Oh.” Clayton frowned. I heard, ‘yes.’

  This was the pattern throughout the listen
ed-to voicemail. There were a number of differences between their versions. However, they agreed that James sounded drunk, scared, and out of breath.

  “Okay. Okay. We had better wait until we get the cleaned-up version. I hope they can get it clearer than that, or we’ve got no hope of knowing what he actually said. Why didn’t his phone company let us know that he made a phone call that night?” Yvonne pursed her lips.

  “Truth is, ma’am, no-one asked them. His death was, still is, deemed an accidental death-by-drowning and the phone records were not checked.”

  “And James’ phone is still missing…”

  “Yes, as is his jacket and wallet.” Dewi folded his arms. It’s not a lot to go on, but it’s something.”

  “It is, Dewi. Good work. Can we talk to the friend? Informal interview? I feel uncomfortable with the ‘my voicemail hasn’t been working properly for two months’ explanation. It may be true, but I’d still like to speak with him about it face-to-face.”

  “I’ll arrange it, ma’am. His name is Mark Evans. He seemed pretty upset. I think he holds himself partly responsible for what happened to James.” Dewi sighed.

  Yvonne raised her eyebrows.

  “Because he didn’t receive the call and because he was the last person to see James alive.”

  “I see. Well, he’s a person of interest at the very least. Let’s get him in.”

  “Will do.”

  “Oh, and Dewi?”

  “Ma’am?”

  “CCTV footage was taken from some of the cameras in town from the night James disappeared. Did anyone actually take a look at it?”

  “Not sure. I don’t think so. It was asked for, because he was missing. But, he was found in the river, so-“

  “I know. I know. Death by accidental drowning.” Yvonne sighed. “Clayton, can you see if you can get hold of the footage? I think we need to have a good look. Something was clearly happening, possibly by the bridge. We should go through every piece of footage that was seized.”

  “I’ll hunt it down, ma’am. It’s most likely bagged up in the evidence room.”

  “Thanks, Clayton.”

  19

  Sidetracked

  Come in.”

  Yvonne swallowed hard. The DCI sounded impatient. Something he rarely ever did. She smoothed down her skirt and opened the door to his office, poking her head through with a grimace.

  “Ah, Yvonne. Come on in, will you?”

  “Is everything okay, sir?” she asked, taking the seat the other side of his desk.

  “I was about to ask you the same question.” His eyes locked onto hers.

  She shifted in her seat. “We’re getting on with things, sir.” She took in his neat hair and very straight tie.

  “Any news on the hit-and-run?”

  Yvonne felt her heart sink. She so wanted to solve that case but they had so little to go on as it was sheer slog for the officers who were going through relevant vehicles and checking their recent histories. “It’s taking time, sir. But with every passing day, we’re getting-“

  “Nowhere?” He finished for her.

  She glared at him. “That’s unfair. There are uniformed and CID officers working their butts off out there, desperately trying to find the vehicle. You know how little we had to go on.”

  “Problem is-” He folded his arms. “One of my best investigators has gotten a little side-tracked.”

  She rubbed her chin.

  “I know you now have a possible murder to investigate, in William Henkel, but I have grieving parents wanting to know what we have. And it’s not much.”

  Yvonne tilted her head to one side. “I’ll go talk to them again. Explain.”

  “Please do.” His face softened, somewhat. “Then, there’s this.” He pulled out a copy of the County Times from his desktop drawer.

  Yvonne stared at the massive headline. ‘Has The Pusher claimed four victims in Mid-Wales?’ A photograph of James Owen smiled out at her from the page. A sub-heading of ‘Was James the first victim?’ had her breathing rapidly.

  “I’m sorry, sir. I have no idea how this got out. Unless…“

  “Unless what?”

  “Unless James’ friend, Mark Evans, spoke to the papers about his voicemail message.”

  “What voicemail message?” Llewellyn placed both hands behind his head.

  “I was going to fill you in about that this afternoon, sir.” Yvonne leaned forward in her chair, as she related the contents of the tape and the reasons for its late discovery.

  He appeared genuinely interested, getting up and walking over to his window. “And you say he sounded afraid?”

  “Very much so. He also sounded as though he’d been chased, and towards the end of the message I think he was talking to someone. We’re getting the message cleaned up, so we can listen again.”

  He turned to face her, hands now in his pockets. “Those sharp instincts of yours are a precious addition to this team.” He folded his arms. “I’m willing to go along with this.”

  “We’ve already set up an incident room, for William’s death. Are you saying we can expand this to all the river deaths?”

  “I think, given what we now know, we have to. But, ask your team to keep a lid on those deaths where we haven’t had any evidence of foul-play. I don’t want the families upset unnecessarily, and I do not want mass hysteria to hit the town as a whole.”

  Yvonne looked down at the paper.

  The DCI followed her eyes. “That, not withstanding.”

  “There’s something else.” Yvonne bit her lip.

  “Go on.”

  “If I deem it necessary, could I bring Tasha Phillips on board.”

  “Your psychologist friend?”

  “Yes.”

  “I’ll speak to the super about the budget and let you know.”

  Yvonne smiled. “Thank you, sir.”

  20

  The hooded man

  Dai Clayton signed for the evidence bag containing four CCTV compact discs, and climbed the stairs to CID. He set the bag down on his desk and cut the plastic clip.

  There were no cameras down by the river. However, the three discs contained the footage from three of the town cameras and footage from inside the Castle Vaults public house. The town cameras covered the areas near long Bridge and the street which separated the Sportsman from the Castle. He took his jacket off and rolled up his sleeves. Callum had offered to help and was making them both a strong coffee. There would be hours of footage to sift through. This would be a Long haul.

  “What took you so long?” he asked, pulling a chair up for Callum, as the latter returned with the strong coffees.

  “Quick fag.” Callum grimaced. “Sorry, mate.”

  Dai laughed. I forgot you’re back on ‘em. You have the will power of a gnat.”

  Callum shrugged. “Do gnats have will power?”

  “No.”

  “Oh.”

  Dai flicked the mouse to get rid of the screensaver and loaded the first CD into his laptop. “Here we go.”

  “Shall I go get some crisps?” Callum asked.

  Dai was about to say no, but thought better of it. “Sure, I’m a bit peckish too. I’ll make a start. Make mine smoky bacon.”

  “Will do.”

  Dai checked the description for what James had been wearing the night he disappeared. Jeans, white Nike trainers and a black leather jacket over a black-and-white striped rugby-style shirt. He was five-foot-nine and weighed around two hundred pounds.

  They were interested the time between ten and eleven pm, when James would have been leaving the Sportsman to go to the Castle, and the hour before and after midnight. They didn’t have exact times for any of James’ movements, as they were purely going on witness estimates and those witnesses were, themselves, under the influence at the time, so could not be exact.

  By the time Callum returned, Dai had almost finished his coffee and was busily forwarding through the first camera footage.

  “Got him
yet?” Callum tossed two packets of crisps onto Dai’s desk.

  “Not yet. Just had a bunch of lads leaving the Sportsman, but he wasn’t among them.” Dai passed the description of James to Callum for him to get up to speed.

  Callum opened his crisps and began munching, leaning forward to peer at the screen.

  Dai shot shot him a look. “Do you have to crunch those in my ear?”

  “Sorry.” Callum grinned and pulled back.

  “There. There.” Dai pointed his pen at the screen, double checking the description to make sure he had it right. “That’s him. That’s James. There he is, leaving the Sportsman on his own at…ten fifty-eight pm. You can plainly see the black-and-white shirt to the front and, it’s clear, he was still wearing his jacket at that stage.”

  “Seems a bit confused.” Callum leaned forward again. “Look, he’s stopped.”

  They watched the man on the screen taking his phone out of his pocket and checking it. He appeared unsteady and was turning in circles, looking all about him.

  “What’s he doing?” Dai frowned at the screen.

  “I dunno, but he doesn’t look that great. Maybe, he was more drunk than people gave him credit for.”

  The man on screen put his phone away, and began walking in the direction of the Castle Vaults. He stumbled up the steps, and one of the bouncers appeared to briefly check him over.

  “We need to speak to that bouncer.” Callum crunched another crisp and washed it down with coffee. “See if we can jog his memory and get him to give us his take on James’ condition.”

  “If he’ll talk to us. Folks can get jumpy about losing their licences.”