Barton stood next to the car and shivered. He pulled chilled air into his lungs. He didn’t need to see a forecast to know what to expect. His phone rang as he climbed into the driver’s seat. It was DCI Naeem.
‘Boss, any news?’
‘Kind of. I finally managed to reach the retired DCI. He remembers the events in Peterborough vividly.’
‘Excellent. What did he say?’
‘To some degree, what we already have. The victims were three drinking buddies who ran for a drug kingpin. Known crooks, but nobody could get anything to stick. He said they were pretty surprised they got taken out because they were just minions. At the time, they thought it was the start of a gangland war, but it all stopped after they were killed.’
‘Does he still know this Griffin character who worked the cases?’
‘That’s one of the important pieces of information. He hated this bloke. He said Griffin oversaw the first murder but didn’t seem bothered after that. Loads of paperwork got misplaced, leads weren’t followed up, and the investigation lost focus. He suspected Griffin was dodgy because normally he behaved like a terrier with cases. Nothing stuck obviously, and he went on to have quite a distinguished career.’
‘Is Griffin still alive?’
‘Yes, very much so, and he lives down your street.’
‘What? You’re kidding.’
‘No, small world, eh? He’s at number nineteen. Perhaps you’d like to have a word with him when you return from your mum’s.’
‘No problem. We’re just setting off. I’ll call in on the way back. Have they found Britney yet?’
‘No, there’s no sign of her at all. Zander has her mobile number now after threatening that Todd Finn, but it goes straight to voicemail. I’ve been able to get an armed unit parked on her street. They’ll be there for a few days. It’s going to freeze tomorrow. Snow’s forecast too. In fact, it’s likely to be blizzard conditions. They offered the helicopter today and tomorrow, but it won’t go up in bad weather.’
‘Jesus. Perfect conditions for our killer. Did he mention anything about that?’
‘He confirmed you were right. The papers started using the Snow Killer line after the third murder, but because there weren’t any more, it went quiet. When I mentioned the snow angle, he remembered something else.’
‘Why do I have a feeling I’m not going to like this?’
‘He said that about two years beforehand, more people lost their lives in the snow.’
‘More criminals? Didn’t they link them?’
‘I asked that. They tried to connect them, but they had a very different MO. An entire family were shot in the countryside. They believed that to be a professional job as the father was a known hitman.’
‘They have to be connected.’
‘That’s what I said, but the father came from London. It had all the hallmarks of a mob killing. About a year later, they nicked a bagman down south, and he told them that everyone knew the guy killed had stolen money from the bosses.’
‘Shit. And those murders occurred in London?’
‘No, in Lincolnshire. Isn’t that where you’re going today?’
‘Yep. Was he confident the incidents were unrelated?’
‘He said Griffin did the investigative work because he’d had some involvement in both cases, but he didn’t find any connection. He couldn’t remember the details exactly. I’ve got Records pulling everything today. Whatever they have, I’ll get by this afternoon.’
‘The family were only shot? No screwdrivers, knives or hammers involved?’
‘He doesn’t think so. It was a long time ago, and he wasn’t as interested in that case. The weird thing is that he can recall the headlines for the family murders in the news the next day. They called them the snow killings.’
54
DI Barton
Barton pulled off the drive with a grimace.
‘Everything okay?’ Holly asked.
‘Not really. I’ve a feeling the case has taken a turn for the worse. I just need to nip down the bottom and check out a house.’
He drove down the cul-de-sac. Before he got there, he guessed the answer. Sure enough, number nineteen was the bungalow with the big red door. He did a three point turn and accelerated away.
‘I also need to pop into the church.’
Holly nodded and jerked her thumb to the back of the vehicle. Surprisingly, the kids were behaving. Layla was playing games on her tablet, Lawrence was listening to music on his phone, and Luke only had to look at a car and he’d fall asleep.
Barton pulled out of Black Ermine Street and drove three hundred metres along the road to the church. It was amazing that he hadn’t heard about the grisly murder there. A few cars lined the verge. He noted from a board outside that a service started in thirty minutes. The big wooden entrance door had been opened in readiness.
Barton could see the vicar inside, bent double, placing hymn books on the pews, and walked up to him. The man’s hands shook as he worked. When Barton cleared his throat, he peered up at him through rheumy eyes.
‘Ah, come for the service? Excellent, we need fresh blood, especially youngsters like yourself.’
Barton felt bad disappointing him, but he’d never been the God-fearing type. Besides, the last time he’d donated blood, the nurse had said something similar.
‘Maybe next week. I just have a few questions around something that happened fifty years ago in the churchyard.’
‘I’ll try to help. Sixty years, I’ve been here. It was in my time. Not much happens here that I don’t know about. We used to get hundreds at communion in those days. We only had twenty turn up last Sunday.’
‘I’m Detective Inspector Barton, and we’ve been investigating the murders that I’m sure you’ve read about in the news.’
The vicar nodded, yet Barton sensed a noticeable shift in concentration in the man’s eyes. He didn’t comment though, so Barton continued.
‘In the 1960s, a man got shot here amongst the graves. Can you tell me about it?’
The vicar turned around and proceeded to distribute the hymn books. After a few seconds, he stopped. ‘Nasty business that, but a long time ago. I can’t remember the details.’
Barton squinted. ‘I thought little escaped your attention here?’
The vicar returned to stand in front of Barton. He stood taller.
‘Someone shot a man. He died. They never caught anyone for it. That’s all I’m aware of.’
Barton didn’t believe that to be accurate, although he wasn’t quite sure how to probe further without calling him a liar. He decided to leave it for the moment. It was over an hour’s drive to Lincoln, and he would use the time to mull things over. At the door, he remembered something the Colonel said.
‘A neighbour told me that the churchyard’s haunted. That a ghost can sometimes be seen, late at night or really early in the morning, putting flowers on the graves. Is it true?’
The side of the vicar’s face twitched. ‘This place is full of ghosts, Officer. I find it safer to let them be.’
55
DI Barton
The children kept silent for the whole journey. Holly slept as well. She stirred as Barton turned the engine off outside his mother’s house.
‘Have the kids been okay?’
‘Perfect. We’ll have to wake Luke.’
They all clambered out and waited while Barton rang the bell. His mother opened the door with a cheerful look. ‘Morning.’
Luke stepped forward and hugged her legs. ‘Nanny, are you going to give us some money?’
‘Luke!’ admonished Holly.
‘That’s all right. Yes, I am.’ She stuck her hand in her pocket and gave each of the kids a crisp ten pound note.
‘Cool, thanks, Nanny,’ said Lawrence. ‘Does that mean we can go home now?’
‘Lawrence!’ shouted Barton.
‘I was joking.’
His mother just laughed. ‘John never beat around the bush when h
e was young either. Come in, then. I’ve made a lasagne. John, you help me set the table while I put the kettle on.’
The others moved into the lounge while Barton went to the dining room. He stared at the set table. His mother chuckled behind him.
‘Cheer up, my boy. Let’s have a sherry.’
He sat on a chair. His mother had never been a ‘hugger’, as she called them, but she loved him. Actions spoke louder than words, and she’d always been supportive. She paid the deposit on his first home and often told him she was always a phone call away, although that would be more comforting if she actually answered the damn thing.
She plonked a sherry in front of him. Barton was pleased no one else could see the tiny glass in his paw.
‘It’s good to see you. Sorry about the phone business, but I think it’s okay now. My boyfriend showed me how it works.’ Sherry came out of Barton’s nose. ‘Just kidding. A woman at my bridge club has the same model. I didn’t even know it had a camera.’
‘That was quite a shock. I had some frightening images in my mind.’
‘Don’t be silly. Besides, why stick to one man when I can play the field?’
Barton was pleased his mouth was empty. He didn’t have the energy for a sparring contest. ‘I’m glad you’ve mastered the phone. We started to get worried about you.’
‘Who? Me? I’m fine. Better than fine actually. I’ve been going Nordic walking with Tilly from number six. I’m as strong as a bull. Where do you think you got your strength from? Your dad was just fat.’
Another strange vision entered his head of her and Tilly skiing down the motorway. ‘You don’t feel old, then?’
‘Of course not. Us women are more resilient than you men. Is everything okay with you? You look exhausted. I thought you’d applied for a desk job.’
‘I did, but I didn’t get it. Generally, I’m okay, although it all seems to be a struggle at the moment. I know it sounds ridiculous, but I feel down all the time.’
His mother put her empty glass on the table. ‘Well, maybe not too ridiculous. Your father struggled with depression.’
‘Really? I never knew that.’
‘People didn’t talk about it back then. Your dad rarely said anything to me. Young’uns nowadays can’t wait to bleat their problems to all and sundry. Poor me, I’m so sad. A kick up the arse would sort them out, or a week in a coalmine.’
‘I’m beginning to understand why he failed to mention it.’
‘You pull yourself together. Don’t do what he did and drink yourself into an early grave. Another sherry? After that I must get the lasagne out of the oven.’
Barton stared at her retreating back with his mouth open.
‘Are you working on all those murders?’ she asked on returning from the kitchen.
‘Yes. That’s not helping my frame of mind either.’
‘There are some sick people out there.’
‘You don’t say. You need to be a complete psycho to kill like that.’
‘Well, they reckon the really dangerous monsters are those who don’t realise they are one. They think they’re just doing a job. They should be strung up when they’re caught.’
‘We don’t do much of that nowadays. Here, do you recall a family being killed around here about fifty years ago? The only information I have is that it was here in Lincolnshire.’
‘Gosh, if it’s the one I think, it was a long time ago. Do you know what? I do remember because they shot the kids as well. Although if I’m right, one of the children survived.’
56
DI Barton
Through the dining room window, Barton watched the others chowing down on their dinners while he tried DCI Naeem’s phone again. He gave up and rang DS Strange.
‘Kelly, how’s things? Are you at the station?’
‘Yes.’
‘I’m trying to get hold of the boss. Any idea where she is?’
‘She’s gone into a meeting. I was just talking to her.’
‘Okay. Can you pass a message on when she comes out?’
‘Sure.’
‘There were more killings in the snow over in Lincolnshire a few years before the ones in Peterborough.’
‘Yeah, she told me. Although she said that it’s unlikely to be connected.’
‘That’s right. However, they didn’t kill the whole family. My mum reckons one of the children survived.’
‘No way. Did she know names or ages?’
‘She can’t remember. She seemed to think it wasn’t a young child but couldn’t be sure.’
‘That’s interesting. If they’re still alive, it would really help to talk to them and get some background.’
‘Correct. Have we got any information from Records yet?’
‘We’ve had bad news regarding that.’
‘Great, there’s a delay?’
‘No, there aren’t any files.’
‘You’re kidding me. Nothing at all?’
‘No, the woman there said it’s rare but not completely unheard of. Especially if the case wasn’t solved. The box could have been hanging around the station and been thrown out.’
‘Or someone threw it out.’
‘What makes you say that?’
‘I get the feeling that somebody didn’t want to solve these cases. I’m talking to the retired detective who failed to solve the Peterborough murders when I get home. We’ll see what he says when I pin that on him. There must be some info somewhere.’
‘Apparently the newspapers keep records of all their issues. It’ll be on microfiche. A slaughter like that would have made front-page news. She checked online and said it won’t be a problem, but she was only working ’til noon on overtime and had finished for the day. She promised to sort it first thing tomorrow morning.’
‘Okay. It could well be the same person. A ruthless paid assassin takes out the family for one contract then is hired for three more hits a couple of years later. If the survivor is still alive, they may even have a description.’
There was silence from the other end before Strange quietly added, ‘Didn’t you mention that the three men were criminals? Maybe they slaughtered the family in Lincolnshire?’
‘You’re right. Perhaps one of the father’s connections found out and had them killed in retaliation.’
‘What if the child who lived was a teenager? They waited two years and took revenge for the murder of their parents and sibling.’
Barton almost said it wasn’t likely that a teenager could commit such horrific murders against three full-grown men in their thirties when he recalled the viciousness. Those three men suffered. They didn’t die quickly. It was personal. ‘That’s good thinking, Kelly. A bit of a leap perhaps, but the child would only be about sixty-five now, which is young enough for more mayhem.’
‘True. I agree it’s unlikely, but the cases do seem to be connected. You wait, the details will come back and the one who survived will have been two years old.’
Barton laughed for the first time that day. ‘An actual baby-faced assassin. There is definitely something unusual going on though. I spoke to the vicar at the church this morning. He said he’s been resident sixty years, and even he was peculiar.’
‘The whole world is behaving oddly at the moment. Before I forget, DCI Naeem wants everyone in at 6:00 tomorrow. I’m cream-crackered, the heating’s playing up and it’s absolutely freezing in here, so I’m going to go home to have a bath.’
‘Good, don’t overdo it in—’
‘Don’t say it!’
Barton smiled again. ‘I’ll be in then as well. That’s assuming I fail to extract any pertinent information out of Inspector Griffin. He’s got Alzheimer’s, so I doubt it.’
Barton terminated the call, entered the house and stared at his lasagne.
‘Is it snowing yet, Daddy?’ asked Luke.
‘No, it is freezing though. It’s probably too cold for snow.’
‘How can it be too cold to snow?’ asked Layla.
‘It’s a phrase. I think it’s something to do with the water vapour in the air.’
‘But I want snow,’ said Luke.
‘Wait a minute,’ said Lawrence. ‘I’ll look it up.’
He took his phone out of his pocket and ran his fingers over the screen for ten seconds. ‘Wikipedia knows all,’ said Lawrence. ‘Basically, if the temperature gets to minus 8 °C, 17.6 °F, you are unlikely to get heavy snow.’
‘What temperatures are we expecting this evening and tomorrow?’ asked Holly.
Lawrence fiddled with his phone. Barton’s stomach gurgled. ‘Tonight will be minus 7, and tomorrow’s going to be minus 3.’
‘Is that good or bad, Daddy?’ Luke stared at him with the utmost interest.
Barton stared out of the window. ‘Definitely bad.’
57
The Snow Killer
I’ve stopped taking my medication these last few days. I’d been sleeping poorly and, even when I did get some rest, crazed visions filled my dreams. When I was awake, people shimmered at the periphery of my vision, and dark thoughts dragged me into a gloom. It’s possible that my actions poisoned my brain. But this morning, after two days pill free, I feel like a different person after a good night’s sleep.
A car pulls up outside. It must be the doctor. I missed my appointment yesterday and, with him being a caring man, he rang to find out why. I suppose I have known him twenty-five years, but acts of kindness are rare nowadays. Perhaps it’s his compassion that’s making me wobble at the finish line. The body buried in the snow has made the national headlines. Peterborough is on the map. They say he was just a simple bricklayer, but if he hung around with the Chapmans, he knew. The detectives will be searching for Britney. I wonder if they’ve found her.
The Snow Killer Page 19
