‘You seem pretty certain of that. Most people don’t find it so easy to remember where they were ten days ago,’ Matthew said.
‘Well, you asked about Friday night, didn’t you? That’s what I do on Friday nights. Last Friday was at Beezo’s in Leeds. The week before we were all up in Northallerton at Harry’s. The week before–’ He screwed up his eyes trying to remember. ‘Ask Beezo. He’ll remember.’
‘That’s enough,’ Matthew snapped, but he didn’t sound sure of himself. ‘Who are Beezo and Harry?’
Bill gave them details of his friends, one of whom lived in Northallerton, the other in Leeds. Bill insisted on having a lawyer present before he said anything else, so they returned to their desks and kept him in a cell while they waited. In the meantime, Eileen contacted the police in Northallerton and asked them to check out Bill’s alibi for the Friday when Pansy was murdered.
‘Even if he was in Northallerton, it’s only forty minutes’ drive away,’ Matthew pointed out. ‘All he’s done is prove he was out on the road that Friday night. He could quite easily have spent the evening there and picked Pansy up on his way home.’
‘Depending on what time he left Northallerton,’ Geraldine said. ‘He could have been back here in York at any time.’
‘So unless he stayed there all night–’ Matthew began and broke off with a frown. ‘Well, that’s hardly likely, is it?’
At last the duty brief turned up and they resumed questioning Bill.
‘Has my client been charged?’ the lawyer demanded as soon as they sat down.
Bill threw an approving glance at the lawyer, a smartly dressed man in his twenties, clean shaven and earnest looking. As he spoke, the young man fidgeted with the knot on his sober grey tie, as though he was unused to dressing formally.
‘Not yet,’ Geraldine replied. ‘We just want to ask him a few questions.’
‘They’re trying to arrest me!’ Bill blurted out indignantly. ‘I’m telling you, it’s a bloody joke. What happened to citizen’s rights?’
‘We’re interested in your van,’ Matthew said reciting the registration number.
‘Oh Jesus, now you really are taking the piss,’ Bill said. ‘So I forgot to notify the DVLA as soon as I sold my old van. Well, if that’s your game, I can tell you, I’m not even going to be paying a fine, mate, because the DVLA give you time to notify them – at least, I think they do.’
He glanced at his lawyer, who murmured a response. ‘When you sell a vehicle it’s advisable to notify the DVLA straight away. Not only is it an offence not to do so, but until you do so, you remain liable for the vehicle.’
‘Well, all right, so I forgot, but I’ll get on to it as soon as I get home. For fuck’s sake, it’s not even two weeks since I sold it. So why are they talking about arresting me?’
‘When exactly did you sell your van?’ Geraldine asked, doing her best to hide her dismay.
Bill frowned. ‘It was on Saturday afternoon, soon after I got back from Harry’s. Some geezer had phoned up asking about it, and he came round an hour or two later and drove it away.’ Bill shrugged. ‘And if it’s him put you up to this, I can tell you, there was nothing wrong with that van when I sold it. He could have checked it out first, but he just bought it on the spot. If anything, he was the one in a hurry to take it off me. I sold it, fair and square, and he’s not getting a penny back from me. It was dirt cheap anyway. He knew he had a bargain. That’s why he was in such a hurry to conclude the deal. But I’m no mug. It was no use to me and I was pleased to be rid of it. But there was nothing wrong with it when he drove it away.’
‘Caveat emptor,’ the lawyer murmured. ‘My client was not aware of any problems with the vehicle when he parted with it and cannot be held in any way liable for any problems that subsequently arose.’
Geraldine and Matthew exchanged a glance. It made sense that someone might have been in a hurry to acquire a van the day after Pansy was killed.
‘Who did you sell it to?’ Geraldine asked, hardly daring to listen to the answer.
If Bill was able to give them details of the purchaser, they could have Pansy’s killer behind bars within the hour. But Bill shrugged. The purchaser had been in a hurry. He had paid cash, four hundred pounds, and Bill was unable to describe him.
‘It was all over so quickly,’ he said. ‘I scarcely glanced at him. I was too busy checking the cash.’ He frowned. ‘All I can remember is that he was wearing a jacket of some kind, with the hood up. I wondered about that, because it wasn’t snowing, but it was freezing and in any case, to be honest, I wasn’t that interested. He bought my van. That’s all. I wouldn’t know him from Adam.’
Geraldine tried not to feel deflated. Once again she had been optimistic about a lead that turned out to be a dead end.
21
While police at Northallerton questioned Bill’s friend, Harry, the Leeds police were busy looking for Beezo. The report from Northallerton was fairly conclusive.
‘He arrived at Harry’s flat early Friday evening, and left after a late lunch on Saturday. According to Harry, the three of them get together most Friday evenings to get wasted and watch films, and they usually stay at each other’s houses. Sometimes they spend Saturday evenings together as well, but Bill wanted to get home because he’d received a call that someone wanted to buy his old van and he was keen to get rid of it.’
The report from Leeds confirmed what the police at Northallerton had already been told. Both Harry and Fred Beasley – known as Beezo – confirmed that Bill and Fred had stayed with Harry in Northallerton on Friday night.
‘Is it possible we were wrong about the time of death?’ Matthew asked.
But they had to admit it was looking unlikely that Bill had killed Pansy. Bill’s alibi checked out, meaning there was no way he could have been in York killing Pansy on Friday night.
‘Unless the pathologist miscalculated the time of death by twenty-four hours,’ Matthew suggested.
‘That’s always a possibility,’ Eileen agreed. ‘After all, estimating the time of death is just that, an estimate. But Jonah Hetherington’s very experienced and he was happy to confirm what the doctor said at the scene. Jonah hasn’t been proved wrong yet.’
‘Is it possible the suspect killed Pansy earlier and deposited her body in the woods before going to Northallerton on Friday, and then sold his van as soon as possible after he returned to York? It would explain why he wanted to sell the van, wouldn’t it?’
‘But she wasn’t left exposed in the open air until Saturday,’ Geraldine pointed out.
‘He could have killed her on Friday, kept her in his van all the time he was in Northallerton, and then deposited her in Acomb Wood on his return to York, just before he sold the van,’ Ariadne suggested.
‘Honey said she saw Pansy getting into a car on Friday night,’ Geraldine said. ‘And Bill doesn’t own a car.’
‘If you think she’s a reliable witness,’ someone muttered.
‘I do,’ Geraldine replied, slightly irritably. ‘She may be a sex worker but she still has eyes, and she wants to help us discover who killed Pansy. Why would she lie about it?’
There was silence for a moment and then Eileen dismissed them.
The following morning, Eileen reported that Pansy had not been stored inside the van while Bill was in Northallerton. Eileen had gone back to Northallerton and Leeds to check whether anyone had seen inside the van over the weekend. On further questioning, Harry and Beezo had both independently revealed that Harry had a neighbour he thought might be interested in buying Bill’s van. Harry had invited his friend over, and they had all gone out to look at the van, inside and out.
‘That was convenient,’ Matthew muttered.
‘It seems that Bill’s no longer a suspect,’ Eileen said, scowling around the room as though her officers were responsible for his innocence.
Befo
re Bill was released, Geraldine asked him whether he had a photograph of his van, and he nodded and told her he had a picture of it on his phone.
‘I took it for the online advert, listing the van for sale. Although why I should show it to you, I don’t know,’ he said irritably. ‘You come to my house, drag me here, lock me up for the night, and question me like I’m a criminal, and now you expect me to show you what’s on my phone. I’ve a good mind to delete the photo.’
Geraldine spoke gently, although her words were harsh. ‘There’s no point in deleting the photo, because we’ll only take your phone and restore the photo from the cloud. You’ll just end up with no phone until we’re ready to return it. And in any case you’re going to show me a photo of the van, because we need to speak to whoever bought it, and you’ll be helping us to find him. Unless you want to obstruct a police enquiry?’
Bill scowled and showed her the image which she had him send to her before he was released. An appeal was then made to the public, asking anyone who thought they might have seen the van to come forward. It was a long shot, expecting someone who had spotted the van to not only see the appeal but also to recognise the particular vehicle and recall where they had seen it, but it was possible a witness might come forward. And as long as there was even the faintest chance they might discover some new information, they had to try. As Eileen was fond of saying, they would ‘leave no stone unturned’ in the pursuit of this killer.
That evening, Geraldine left work punctually at the end of her shift. More often than not she would linger at her desk, working until late, but on this particular night she was tired. There was nothing for her to do at work that couldn’t wait until the morning, so she went home, ready for an early night. She had just showered and was sitting in her living room in her pyjamas and dressing gown, remote control in one hand, and glass of wine in the other, trying to relax, when her phone rang. It was quite late for a social call, so she guessed it must be work. With a sigh, she reached for her phone, wondering what was so important it couldn’t wait until the morning. It flashed across her mind that this could mean that a second murder victim had been discovered.
The voice on the line startled her. ‘Geraldine?’
‘Ian? Where are you?’
‘Never mind that.’
‘There’s a rumour you’re in London.’
‘Don’t worry about where I am. I’ve got tied up with something, but it’s a temporary move and I’ll be back in York before anyone notices I’ve gone.’
‘Don’t be daft. Everyone’s noticed your absence. You can’t just bugger off like that, without so much as a word about where you’re going, and think no one’s going to ask questions. Where are you?’ Geraldine repeated her question, her anger towards him returning.
‘I can’t talk now,’ Ian said, suddenly lowering his voice. Geraldine had the impression he was no longer alone. ‘I can’t tell you – I can’t tell anyone – where I am,’ he muttered. ‘I’ll try to call you tomorrow. Same time. Don’t tell anyone I called.’
He rang off leaving Geraldine shocked and disappointed. Automatically she made a note of the time. Ian had said he would call back at the same time the next day. Furious with him for playing stupid games, she phoned him back, but the number from which he had called her was unobtainable. She tried again with the same result. After her third attempt, she gave up, telling herself fiercely that she didn’t want to speak to him anyway. He had called her and then hung up without saying anything. She didn’t know what kind of stupid games he was playing, but wherever he was, he could stay there as far as she was concerned. She told herself she didn’t care if he never returned to York. But deep down, she knew she was lying to herself.
22
Evidently Tod had taken Ian’s threat seriously, because the next day he came up with the information Ian was looking for. Ian was with him in the office when Tod sent Frank away on an errand.
‘Leaving you with him again?’ Frank muttered crossly. ‘What the fuck? I hope you know what you’re doing. I don’t trust him. Who does he think he is anyway?’
Tod glared. ‘Don’t you fucking call me out,’ he growled.
Ian turned and watched Frank stalk out of the room, while Tod grumbled about him being ‘uppity’.
‘What the fuck indeed,’ Tod went on, after Frank had gone. ‘If he knew who I’m with, he’d completely lose it. But we can’t keep up this pillow talk much longer, Archie, if that really is your name.’
Ian didn’t reply. Once the deal was complete, he would return to York and Tod would never see or hear from him again. There was nothing to connect Archie, member of the drug squad in London, with a detective inspector working in York where Tod and his henchmen would never track him down. But before he was ready to leave London, he had a task to complete, and he had only just begun.
‘So what is your name?’ Tod asked.
Ian shrugged. He was certainly not about to reveal anything about himself beyond what Tod already knew.
‘Well?’ he said instead. ‘What have you got for me?’
‘This dealer you’re after, his moniker’s Jammie,’ Tod replied.
‘Jammie? What kind of a name is that?’
‘No one uses their real name, do they?’ Tod replied. ‘You don’t, do you, Archie? Why should anyone else?’
‘I suppose he thinks he’s lucky?’ Ian said.
Tod laughed. ‘Jammie. You know what that is, don’t you?’
Ian felt a cold shiver as Tod mimed shooting him. No doubt the name had been chosen to inspire fear in anyone who grasped its meaning. He wished now that he had come up with something more intimidating for himself. Tod meant death; Jammie referred to a gun. Archie was a bit lame, really. He comforted himself with the thought that Frank was worse, unless it was ironic, which seemed unlikely. Frank wasn’t capable of such subtlety. Even Nick had another meaning, now he thought about it, although that had been his real name.
Ian answered Tod with a question of his own. ‘Where can I find him?’
Tod laughed. ‘You sure you want to meet him?’
Ian took a step towards Tod, trying to look menacing rather than afraid. ‘I said, where can I find him?’
‘Chill.’
Tod reached into a pocket and Ian tensed as he drew out a filthy scrap of paper.
‘This dealer you’re after, you’d better stay on point. He’s a right smackhead.’
‘Are you sure he’s the one I’m looking for?’
‘Sure. I got the word he was her pusher all right. According to what I heard, he was more than that. Helena Blake. That was the moniker you gave me. He supplied her junk until she got his boss nicked, and then she disappeared.’
Ian snatched the piece of paper and stuffed it in the back pocket of his jeans.
‘Has her dealer tried to find her?’ he asked.
‘Sooner or later a junkie’s going to croak. There’s always others waiting. That’s how it goes. But word is Jammie was mad when Helena disappeared. She was more than just another punter to him. He was furious when she ditched him. You’ll steer clear of him, if you know what’s good for you.’
Ian scowled.
‘Anyway, you want to keep your cards close to your chest or you’ll be napping in dirt yourself before long. Jammie’s boss is the business. Do you think he’s out of action because you’ve got him banged up?’ Tod shook his head. ‘I’m telling you, Archie, compared to Jammie’s boss I’m small time.’
Without a word, Ian turned and stalked out of the office. Frank bared his teeth at him as he hurried past. Ian made his way to the station by a roundabout route around the market, constantly checking that he was not being followed. Aware that he was playing a dangerous game, he trusted Tod as much as he would trust a poisonous toad that had found its way into his bed. For all he knew, Tod had already sent a message to Helena’s former drug dealer, warning him t
hat Ian was on his way to confront him. And Ian was on his own. Jack knew nothing about his plans to warn Helena’s drug dealer to leave her alone. Ian was taking a crazy chance, risking his own life, just so that Geraldine could see her sister again. If he failed, not only would Geraldine never see Helena again, but she wouldn’t see him again either. Perhaps no one would find his body. Geraldine would never know the sacrifice he had made for her.
He walked fast, driven on by the hope that he might succeed in warning Helena’s enemies off, and so enable Geraldine to be reunited with the sister he had stolen away from her. After all, he was the one who had requested that Helena be given a new identity, meaning that Geraldine could never see her again without compromising her sister’s safety. At the time, it had seemed like the only way to protect them both. Ian still considered his actions had been justified, but Geraldine’s obstinacy was both a strength and a weakness.
The address Tod had given to Ian was in Catford. Sitting on the train, Ian turned over in his mind what he was going to say to Jammie when he found him. Jammie was not a major player, but a runner for the dealer who was now behind bars. Still, the dealer would not want Jammie co-operating with a maverick police officer. Tod had warned Ian that even from his cell the prisoner had influence. Only fear, or the promise of a lot of money, could possibly convince Jammie to leave Helena alone if he ever discovered she was still alive. Jammie’s boss believed Helena had been responsible for his arrest. He did not know that Geraldine had stood in for her twin in a desperate attempt to protect Helena. No one apart from Jammie would recognise Helena. Living under a new name, she would not be at risk if she met with Geraldine, as long as Jammie was prepared to keep silent if he ever came across her. But it would be risky for Geraldine to see Helena without the assurance of Jammie’s co-operation.
As the train jogged along, Ian came up with a plan. It was a long shot, but he couldn’t think of anything better. With a sigh, he turned to gaze at the ugly buildings of south London passing by the smeared window of his carriage. It was possible all his apprehension would be for nothing. This could well prove to be his last journey, the grimy urban landscape his last view of the world outside. Jammie might shoot him before he even had a chance to utter a word. He closed his eyes and tried to relax as the train jogged onwards, rushing him towards whatever fate might be waiting for him.
Deep Cover Page 11
