DI Giles BoxSet

by Anna-Marie Morgan

  “Still…”

  “Yes. I agree. We need to talk to him.”

  “Wait a minute, who’s that?” Callum pointed at the screen. “Rewind it a couple minutes, can you?”

  “Okay, say when.”

  “There. There.”

  Callum pointed to a hooded figure, possibly slight taller than James, although it was hard to tell. He was heading along the same street and appeared to pause, when James paused. It was hard to make out exactly what the following man was wearing, but it appeared to be dark trousers and dark, hooded jacket.

  “Why’s he got his hood up in summer?” Callum leaned back in his chair.

  “This was early summer. If I remember rightly, it was cool for the time of year. It’s possible that the person’s cold. But, I agree, it’s possible he’s following James. That pause was a bit odd.”

  “Oh, no.” Callum sighed. “He’s walked straight past. I was sure he was going to follow James in.”

  Dai rubbed his chin. “Me too.”

  “Oh, hang on. He’s taken a right turn. That’d be the alleyway down the side of the Castle.”

  “So, he could be entering via the back door.”

  “Where all the smokers congregate.”

  “Right.”

  “Well, let’s take a gander at the inside footage. You got that?”

  “Yeah.” Dai swapped the CDs over and forwarded the footage to the relevant timeframe.

  The two of them proceeded to scour the crowd inside the pub for the hooded man.

  “I don’t see him. Do you?” Callum had stopped crunching crisps, desperately trying to spot the man they had seen outside.

  Dai shook his head. “I’ll bet he took his coat off. Anyone with malicious intent would be very aware of where the cameras are. There’s James, talking to some people at the bar. He’s just ordered a pint.”

  They watched James take his pint over towards the dance floor, where he began chatting to a girl he appeared to know. Their glimpses of him were intermittent due to the number of people around, and it was mostly his upper body they caught sight of.

  “He’s definitely appearing unsteady on his feet there.” Dai rewound the footage a little.

  “I’m pretty sure that girl just stopped him from falling.”

  “We have a statement, in the file, from a girl who was in the Castle. I think that was probably her.

  “Fast forward to when he leaves.” Callum finished his coffee in a couple of mouthfuls.

  Dai forwarded the footage to when James was downing the dregs of his beer. Someone bumped into him and James staggered back, before waving to the guy who appeared to apologise.

  “Was that our guy?” Callum asked.

  “I don’t think so.” Dai shook his head. “He looks a little small to be the man we saw earlier.” James made his way towards the back of the pub and disappeared into the crowd at the back, where the toilets and back door were situated.

  “I think that must be where he leaves.” Dai ejected the CD and reached for the third disk. “We should be able to pick him up on this, once he’s back on Broad Street and heading to the bridge.”

  When they picked him up again, James was back on Broad Street and looking increasingly unsteady on his feet.

  “You see?” Callum scratched his head. “I’d say he’s definitely drunk enough to fall in the river. Maybe the DI’s barking up the wrong tree. This one really could have been an accident.”

  “You ever been that drunk before?” Dai turned to Callum, one eyebrow raised.

  “Well, yeah a few times. Mostly when I was younger.”

  “You ever fall in a the river?”

  “Er…no.”

  “Look, I’m not saying it doesn’t happen, but falling into the river isn’t that likely an outcome. Well, not in my opinion, anyway.”

  “There he is going over the bridge and looking down at the water.”

  They watched, as James continued unsteadily over the bridge and towards the roundabout at the top, at which point, he seemed to turn right. The next camera, near the hospital road, never picked him up. It had been studied at length, at the time of his disappearance. It had been thought that he may have changed his mind and doubled back, taking the opposite road off the roundabout and heading up Milford Road. There, he may have become lost and ended up taking a left, down through a cul-de-sac and into Dolerw public park, through which the River Severn ran. There were no cameras on Milford Road. What they could say, without a shadow of a doubt, is that a hooded man, very possibly the same hooded man from earlier, had followed James over the bridge. He had caught up with and overtaken the lad and headed right. He, too, was not picked up again by the camera near the hospital. The final disc had no secrets to give up.

  “If we put this together with the voicemail, I think we can come up with a better understanding of what might have happened to James. We should take this to Yvonne.” Dai leaned back in his chair. “I think James may have been abducted.”

  Yvonne thanked Callum and Dai for the hard work they had put in the CCTV footage. She studied it herself, with Dewi, and had to agree that the hooded man had to be someone of interest. Although they couldn’t rule out accidental death, something in her gut told her there was more to it. This was reinforced the following day, when the toxicology results for Steven Bryant came through.

  The DI ran to her bag, which lay on her desk, and pulled out her bleating phone. It was Hanson. “Roger?”

  “We got the toxicology results back from lab and I can tell you that traces of GHB were found in Steven Bryant’s samples.”

  “GHB? Really?”

  “Yes.”

  “So, he was spiked?”

  “Quite likely.”

  “Wait, you’re sure it was higher than naturally occurring levels?”

  “Yes. It was about ten times any naturally occurring levels. I think we can deduce that Steven had willingly or unwillingly taken the drug, and that he went into the river not long afterwards.”

  “Could he have fallen in accidentally, after having the drug?”

  “It’s possible, but with the amount he had, I’d question whether he’d have been capable of walking very far, unaided. But, yes, whether he fell or was pushed, he wouldn’t have been able to get himself out again. The levels of GHB were just too high.”

  “If I’ve got a serial killer on my hands,” Yvonne turned to face the window, “I think he may have just made his first major mistake.”

  “I’d talk to his friend.” Hanson grunted. “Find out if James was into GHB, and find out who supplies it.”

  “Thanks.” Yvonne laughed.

  “Sorry.” Hanson laughed back. “I’m not trying to-“

  “It’s okay, Roger. I know. I appreciate your help. Keep the results coming.”

  21

  Chris and Jenny

  Chris Halliwell and Jenny Hadley had barely two weeks left on their secondment with CID. They had been tasked with helping to trace the hit-and-run vehicle which killed Callum Jenkins.

  Chris thought it would be a good idea to knock on doors around the estate again. “Something may have been missed. I say we go and talk to people at the same time of day that Callum was knocked down. Gives us a greater chance of talking to people who were around to witness something.”

  Jenny bit her lip. “I’m not sure. Officers went all over that estate in the two weeks after he was killed. Are you honestly telling me they missed something? And that was when it was really fresh in the people’s minds.”

  Chris nodded. “I get what you’re saying, Jenny, but how many times have you been asked something, given an answer, and then later wished you’d added something else? Maybe something you weren’t sure of at the time?”

  Jenny, nodded, nervously playing with her ponytail. “Well, yes. I-“

  “Exactly. Everyone does it. In this case, it will have played on their minds and they will probably be dying to tell it to someone. That someone is us.”

  “It’s a
big estate.”

  “Then we’d better get going.”

  “Shouldn’t you check with the DI?”

  “Er. Yes. We’d better. Come on.”

  Yvonne was flicking through file notes on the river deaths when Chris and Jenny burst in.

  “Sorry to disturb you, ma’am.” Chris gave her a wide smile and she was struck by how handsome he was. His face was honest and open. She mused that he’d make some young woman a fine husband one day, and wondered at the reasons he and the mother of his child were not together.

  “That’s okay. How can I help?” She put down the notes. “What’s the excitement?”

  Chris stepped to one side, allowing his colleague to relay their idea. Jenny smiled at him.

  “Ma’am, we were thinking of questioning Garthowen residents again, this afternoon. About four o’clock. See if anyone has anything else to tell us. Maybe, something they missed at the time.”

  Yvonne leaned back in her chair, nodding. “Good idea. Can I make a suggestion?”

  The two recruits nodded.

  “That car was doing a helluva lick down that road. Perhaps, find out if they are aware of any anti-social drivers or anything that’s happened before or since. I’ve got a feeling that won’t have been the first time that driver went down that road, and perhaps has been down there since. He or she may be getting cocky again. Putting their foot down.”

  “Will do, ma’am.” Chris looked like he’d won the lottery and Yvonne laughed out loud. “Go on then, you two. Go and get something for us.”

  “We’ve pulled in Kenny Walters, like you asked, ma’am.” Callum poked his head around the door.

  “Where is he, Callum?” Yvonne looked up from her notes, putting down her pen.

  “Interview room one.”

  “Great. Have Dewi meet me there in fifteen, will you? It won’t do Kenny any harm to be kept waiting. Better make him cup of tea, though.”

  “Will do.”

  “Oh, and Callum?”

  “Ma’am?”

  “If he asks why he’s here, tell him you don’t know.”

  “Okay.”

  The DI’s eyes were drawn to Kenny’s crossed ankles, under the table. Although it appeared he had the latest trend in white training shoes, they were muddy - the laces ragged and nearly undone.

  She looked up and found him glaring at her, arms folded in angry challenge. Strands of loose hair hung in front of his eyes like the bars of a cage. He occasionally brushed them away, only for them to fall back again. His shirt, like his shoes, spoke of living beyond his means. It was also at odds with his unkempt appearance and lack of personal hygiene.

  “Thanks for coming in, Kenny.” Yvonne and Dewi pulled out chairs and seated themselves.

  “Didn’t have much of a choice, did I?” His mouth had a pronounced pout and his arms remained folded, but he uncrossed his ankles and sat a little straighter.

  “It’s just a friendly chat, Kenny. No need to get upset.” Dewi smiled, but his eyes remained serious.

  “You’re gunna accuse me of something, I know it. You lot got nothing better to do.”

  Yvonne gave an affected laugh and held her hands up. “You’re absolutely right, Kenny. We looked at each other this morning and said, ‘You know, there’s so little crime to solve around here, we might as well pull in Kenny Walters and waste a couple of hours of our time winding him up.’” She shook her head. “What are we like?”

  “Very funny.”

  “Oh yes, that’s right. There’s a shed-load of cases to solve and we are very busy people. We’ll try not to keep you too long, Kenny, but if you’ve got information, we want it.”

  “I want a lawyer.”

  “What, even before you know what we want to talk to you about?”

  “Yeah. You’re gunna fit me up. I’m not talking without a lawyer present.”

  “Well, it’s your lucky day. We’ve got a duty solicitor coming in to make sure we don’t use thumb screws.” Dewi’s voice sounded unusually deep.

  “Speaking of which.” The out of breath voice came from the back, and a middle-aged, smart-suited man put his briefcase on the floor next to the desk, taking the available seat next to his client.

  “Mr. Davies.” Yvonne nodded. “Thanks for coming.”

  “Kenny.” Davies nodded at his client, who barely looked at him but continued sulking.

  “Kenny, this is an informal chat, really. We’ve been speaking to our colleagues in the drug squad and your name came up in connection with GHB.” Yvonne purposely studied her notebook. “Specifically, some was found, six months ago, along with a stash of mamba, under a car in an area in which you had just been chased.”

  Kenny flicked her a look. “That wasn’t mine.” He scowled, flicking his hand in a dismissive gesture at her notebook.

  “You mean you got away with it because no-one witnessed you discarding it.”

  “Careful…” Davies warned.

  “Kenny, we’re not trying to get you. We’ll leave that to the drugs squad.” Yvonne leaned towards him. “We think young men are being given GHB before being purposely drowned in the river.”

  Kenny’s eyes widened.

  Yvonne sensed that he knew something. “Do you know of anyone acquiring GHB recently? Say in… ooh… the last six months?”

  Kenny’s eyes dipped to the table, they flicked a couple of times from side-to-side, before coming back up to the DI’s.

  “No.”

  “You sure about that?”

  “Yeah.” He said the words but appeared distracted, his eyes glazing over as though seeing another time and place. As though seeing someone else. “What young men?” he asked, suddenly.

  “James Owen, for example.”

  “James?”

  “You knew him?”

  “No. Not really. But I heard about him going missing and then being found in the river.” He shifted in his seat, running his hand through his hair a couple of times.

  “Did you supply him with GHB?”

  “Me? No. I didn’t even know him. I just knew that his family had been looking for him and it was all in the papers, when he was found. He didn’t use drugs, did he?” From Kenny’s creased-up face, it appeared he didn’t think so.

  Yvonne shrugged. “We don’t think so. We think he was given it in a drink and he was unaware.”

  Kenny stared at her, unspeaking.

  She continued. “We think some of the other river victims may also have been given GHB.” This wasn’t exactly true, although tests for trace evidence were ongoing. Kenny didn’t need to know that.

  Kenny shook his head. He eyes were wide, his pupils dilated.

  “We’re looking to trace the batch of GHB it came from.”

  “Look, I don’t know anything.” He got out of his seat, his hands shaking.

  “You okay, Kenny?” Dewi also stood, reaching an arm out towards Kenny.

  Kenny slumped back in his seat. “I don’t know anything.”

  Yvonne leaned back in her chair. “Okay, Kenny. I tell you what. Go have a think about it. If anything comes back to you, or you hear anything, give us a call.”

  After Kenny and his solicitor had left, Yvonne shook her head at Dewi. “He knows something.”

  “I agree. I think he looked scared.”

  “Ask uniform to keep a discreet eye on him. Keep us up to date of where they see him. Oh, and suggest they do stop-and-search on sight.”

  “Right you are, ma’am.”

  Her eyes were wistful, as she put her hands up to cradle the back of her head, elbows jutting forward, as though to ward off the bad stuff. “How many young lives has he messed up, Dewi. Destroyed, physically and mentally. I don’t know how he lives with himself.”

  Dewi shrugged. “He probably doesn’t think about it. It’s easy money for him.”

  Chris and Jenny had spoken to around a dozen households in Garthowen and, as yet, had gained no new information.

  “I don’t think we’re going to get
anything from this.” Jenny sighed, pausing before the gate of number fifty-five.

  “Hey, come on.” Chris put a hand on her shoulder. “We’ll finish the last few houses in this row. If anyone saw anything, they’ll likely be in this row. Any one of these houses could hold the key.”

  Jenny narrowed her eyes at him, but his enthusiastic approach was infectious. “Come on, then. Let’s knock on the door.”

  The lady who greeted them was wearing an apron. The sides of her face and her hands were covered in flour, which she wiped away with a tea towel.

  “Hello. I’m Chris Halliwell and this is Jenny Hadley. We’re police officers on secondment to CID.”

  “What’s up? Has something happened? It’s not Steve, is it?” Her wide eyes had them quickly reassuring her.

  “No. We’ve not come about anyone in your family.” Chris tilted his head, his smile designed to settle her nerves. “We’ve come about the hit-and-run incident that resulted in Callum Jenkins’ death.”

  “Oh. Oh, I see. Wel,l you’d better come in.” She turned to lead them inside.

  Chris flicked a quick look at Jenny. Being called in could be a good sign.

  “We know that officers have already been speaking to residents in the area.” Chris sat in the offered armchair, whilst Jenny took the couch. “But, we’ve been wondering if anyone had remembered anything else. Or perhaps, you may have seen something since that made you anxious about that road.”

  “Such as someone driving erratically or above the speed limit, Mrs Moore.” Jenny readied her notepad.

  The lady nodded. “Call me Sheena.”

  Chris noted her name into his pocketbook.

  “There was something, but I don’t know if it’s relevant or not.” Mrs Moore rubbed her cheek.

  “Go on,” Jenny encouraged.

  “Well, I’ve seen a car racing down that road a fair few times. Mostly when it’s getting dark or after it’s dark.”

  “What sort of car, Sheena?”

  “A light-coloured vehicle. Maybe silver. I’m not great with car models, I don’t drive. But, a Nissan, maybe? Small, definitely. Maybe a Nissan Micra? Like I say, I’m not good with car models.”