The George Elms Trilogy Box Set

by Charlie Gallagher

  ‘Fuck!’ Dennis slumped onto a stool by the kitchen bench and pushed his head into his hands. The bench held a couple of supermarket bags, presumably from the van they had passed on the way up. One of them was filled with bottles — all hard liquor. George filled the kettle then opened the blinds at the kitchen window just as Emma entered. Dennis looked up and blinked in the sunlight but didn’t complain. Emma rinsed a mug and filled it with cold water from the tap. As George put the kettle back on the base and flicked the ON switch, Emma took the mug, tore off more kitchen paper and sat on the stool next to Dennis. She dipped a wad of kitchen paper in the water and dabbed at Dennis’s forehead. He winced a little but did nothing to stop her.

  ‘Tea, coffee? Or something a little stronger, Dennis?’ said George.

  Dennis’s eyes fell to the bags on the table top and he smiled faintly. ‘I’ve been having a lot of parties, you see.’

  George returned the smile. ‘Yeah, this strikes me as a real party house!’

  ‘I saw a lot of drunks. When I was in the job. We all do, don’t we? I used to think that they had such sad little lives. I would screw my face up and judge them. Especially the ones that turned to it because they couldn’t cope with something in their lives. And here I am, eh?’

  ‘I did the same thing,’ George said. ‘I remember anyone who was anyone coming round and telling me that it didn’t help. That it was the last thing I needed. You’ve probably had the same thing. They were wrong. I think I needed to abuse this stuff for a time to be able to move on. While reality was too painful, I needed an escape. It can be good for that. But then I got to the point where I could make a difference again. Where I was needed. I stopped there and then. I think that’s when it becomes a real problem, Dennis. When you’re needed and you can’t switch it off. We need you now, mate. So . . . tea or coffee?’

  ‘Coffee. Strong.’

  ‘Same,’ Emma said.

  George prepared the coffees and made himself a cup of tea. ‘Let me tell you what I know,’ he said. ‘Some of this might be news to you, most of it probably won’t. John Lawrence . . . the vicar down the road from here. I spoke to him. He’s upset with the police attention. He told me it was because he was concerned about the reputation of the village, about the reputation of the people in it. He didn’t want us thinking his church was a breeding ground for serial killers — I think that’s what he said. He wasn’t telling me everything. I could understand him being upset. I could see why he might have started taking it personally.’

  ‘He certainly did that,’ Emma said.

  ‘Okay. That on its own wasn’t enough for me to get the hump with him. Yes, he was guarded. But if the police turn up to question you enough times, I can see why anyone would be guarded. I went through to the little office in his vestry. He had some CCTV rigged up to cover the nearby car park and the main entrance to the church. The car park was empty. Yet I passed his car parked back up the road a little. The vestry has its own door that leads directly outside. He can enter and leave the church any time he wants without being caught on camera. If he’s done that on purpose, why?’

  ‘CCTV? There were no cameras the last time I was there,’ Dennis said.

  ‘They were installed after you arrested Roberts. At least that’s my understanding. I think the building was targeted when his name came out. I guess the link to the church was also made in the press. The local press at least.’

  ‘So why put it up at all if it’s going to cause him problems?’

  ‘I got the impression he didn’t want to. He said it was put up by the ladies who ran the church clubs. I guess he couldn’t object too much. He would have been asked why.’

  ‘Okay?’ Dennis sounded like he was waiting for more.

  ‘Okay. So, not much on its own. But the church has a charitable fund attached to it. It’s received considerable sums of money. At least two hundred thousand, but almost certainly more. I could only go back a month. I will be going back further.’

  ‘Roberts was obsessed with that place for a long time. I wouldn’t be surprised if he was putting money into it.’

  ‘I agree. But when I went to see him — John Lawrence, I mean — he gave me some sob story about raising money for river defences. They needed twenty thousand. I even gave the bloke a tenner. This was after those payments were made.’

  ‘Maybe he didn’t want to go public with the money. Maybe he was waiting for a reasonable amount of time to pass before he did. He wouldn’t want it to be known that the money was from Roberts,’ Emma said.

  ‘I agree. He definitely wouldn’t. But why didn’t he tell me? I was up there snooping around, asking questions. Why even mention the river defence thing? He must have considered that I might have access to information about the church finances.’

  ‘Maybe he didn’t think it would ever be looked at,’ Dennis said.

  ‘Roberts’s escape was expensive. It was only possible because he has enough money to pay off the right people.’

  ‘You think he paid off the church? For what?’ Emma said.

  ‘No.’ Dennis became suddenly animated. ‘You think the church was helping him? Directing the money to where it needed to go? You think the church was involved? John Lawrence specifically?’

  ‘And so did you. Not in the escape. That wasn’t a problem then. But you thought he was involved in those girls disappearing. Didn’t you? I’ve seen your notes. You never made anything official but you kept going back to him with questions. You’re the reason John Lawrence got upset with the police attention. Either you were wrong and he was unduly harassed or you were right and you touched a nerve.’

  Dennis sighed and then sipped at his coffee. ‘I was never happy with him. Right from the start. And when we got Roberts I wasn’t happy with the relationship between the two of them either. I considered that St Dubricius’s had some strange financial dealings. But then I saw that it was a restoration project for the church they’re twinned with.’

  ‘Twinned with?’

  ‘St Dubricius’s Church is one of two on that riverbank. There’s another further along called St Leonard’s. It was never as well protected from the river, though. All that’s left is a ruin. It’s been that way for as long as anyone can remember. St Dubricius’s was built a fair bit later. Maybe they knew even back then that St Leonard’s wasn’t going to last. It’s been abandoned for a long time. Lawrence got a bee in his bonnet about restoring it.’

  ‘And he set up a fund?’

  ‘He did. I don’t think anyone was keen. I mean, why would you help with restoring a church that’s been ruined by the river more times than enough. It’s sure to happen again. That’s the whole reason it was abandoned.’

  ‘So people didn’t invest?’

  ‘Someone did. I got some information from someone working the accounts at the church that it was getting some sizeable donations. They didn’t know where from. I asked Lawrence about them and he wouldn’t discuss it. He just said he had to respect his donor’s wish for anonymity, as he would with any donor. The accountant was sacked shortly after and I never learned any more. I put in for permission to investigate the church accounts but it was never granted. I don’t blame the superintendent. On the surface it was a murder investigation and we had someone through the door who had committed the offences. So when I asked for an audit on the accounts of the church the offender had attended and I couldn’t really articulate why I wanted it, I was told where to go. Fair dos.’

  ‘But you felt there was something there, didn’t you?’ George said.

  ‘Yeah. Yes, I did. But by now I was being accused of having it in for Lawrence. They thought it was personal. Sorry, Emma, but even you put a leash on me. I understand. I certainly don’t blame you.’

  ‘He was becoming a pain in the arse, Dennis. It wasn’t that I didn’t trust your instincts. We just needed something more concrete as a reason to be speaking to him.’

  ‘I had the assault allegation. I wasn’t allowed to talk to him about that
either.’

  ‘The what?’ George leaned forward and almost spilled his tea. ‘Assault?’

  ‘Sexual assault.’

  ‘He was spoken to about that,’ Emma said. ‘Our colleagues in CID took it on. The allegation was put to him and he gave a plausible denial. The victim didn’t pursue her allegation and it was filed.’

  ‘What were the circs?’

  ‘Chloe Pope,’ Dennis said, ‘Roberts’s first vict—’

  ‘Chloe Pope made an allegation?’ George exclaimed.

  ‘No!’ Emma cut in, clearly irritated. ‘Chloe Pope did not.’

  ‘Chloe didn’t,’ Dennis explained. ‘But her friend in the choir did. She said that John Lawrence got her on her own and touched her inappropriately. Just on the thigh. He made some suggestive comments with it. She hinted that she wasn’t the first. She dropped it all, though. Her mum was a regular at the church. Really proud of her daughter for being in the choir. I think she was pressured into not speaking to the police. We’ve all seen it happen, right?’

  ‘There was no evidence. That was the issue with it,’ Emma said, quickly.

  ‘Lawrence used it. When the investigation got anywhere near his church, he brought it up every time — how he’d been “exonerated,” how he’d made the police back off. I was desperate to tell him that it didn’t mean he was innocent, just because we couldn’t prove it.’

  ‘You think it happened?’ George said.

  ‘I think more than that. According to Mary Pope, her daughter had become withdrawn over the few months leading up to her going missing. She refused to go to church. She had been in the choir most of her life and suddenly she wouldn’t set foot in the building. It didn’t take much to put two and two together for me.’

  ‘Theories. Theories we could never prove, Dennis.’ Emma was still irritated. George got the impression that Emma and Dennis had had this very same conversation before. He could see why this was such a sensitive issue for Emma.

  ‘There’s a link. Between Roberts, Chloe and Lawrence. I was certain of it — still am. I just never found what it was exactly.’

  George stood up and walked to the window. When he pushed it open birdsong drifted in on a pleasant spring breeze and the kitchen seemed a little less musty. It was remarkable how much difference a bit of sunlight made.

  ‘What are you thinking, George?’ Dennis said. ‘Are you going to tell me I’m a crazy old sweat too? Crazy theories?’

  ‘Well I’m a big fan of crazy theories. Especially when they have substance to them. I have one of my own. Roberts has been planning his escape since before he even went to prison, stashing money away in a place where the Reverend John Lawrence could get access to it. Being a wealthy prisoner is one thing, but you need someone with access to the money to make sure the right people get paid. And, in this case, the right building gets built.’

  ‘How could he trust Lawrence, though?’ Emma said. ‘I mean, he’s a Category A prisoner and it’s a hell of a lot of money. What’s stopping John Lawrence just keeping the lot and living happily ever after?’

  ‘Not trust, that’s for sure. You’re right, you’d never be able to trust someone that much.’

  ‘What then?’

  ‘Knowledge. Roberts has something on Lawrence. He knows something that’s worth a lot of effort on Lawrence’s part to keep it from coming out.’

  ‘Like what?’

  ‘I don’t know. But he’s just a few minutes down the road, right? Maybe we should go and see him and pretend that we do.’

  Chapter 32

  When George left Dennis’s house this time, the door closing from behind was a lot less hurried. Dennis watched George and Emma go to their car.

  ‘You want to head straight to St Dubricius’s?’ Emma said, as they drove back down the narrow and bumpy drive.

  ‘Somewhere you’d rather go?’

  ‘My team, George. Now Dennis is aware, I don’t want any of them finding out secondhand. And we’ve got some leads — some work to do. We’ll get a lot more done with a whole team on it.’

  ‘I can’t argue with that. I was considering turning up to see Lawrence with a search warrant anyway. We could task that out. What are the magistrates like up here? Are they pretty quick at turning them round?’

  ‘Not as quick as a Section 18.’

  ‘You want to arrest him!’ A Section 18 search was conducted immediately after an arrest. It didn’t need nearly as much red tape to obtain as a warrant.

  ‘You sound surprised?’

  ‘Delighted more like. If this was down in Langthorne I would be doing just that. I’m well beyond reasonable suspicion.’

  ‘So what’s different? Just because you’re out of your county, the law’s still the same, right?’

  ‘It is. I’m just aware that I can be a little . . . forward, is all. I police with my size tens. I’ve been reminded of that recently. I can kinda get away with it in my own force. Up here I’m trying to be a little more diplomatic so I don’t get told to go back to where I came from.’

  ‘I’m pretty sure I already told you to do that once. Fat lot of good it did.’

  ‘True. And yet here we are. I had no intention of coming back up here if that helps?’

  ‘Of course you didn’t!’

  ‘So we go back. We speak to your team. We go and see the vicar and pull him in for assisting an offender. We’re going to need more people to do a proper search of the church and his place anyway. Assisting an offender is one thing but I think there’s a much bigger offence there somewhere.’

  ‘Sounds like a plan.’

  Emma seemed brighter. George felt that way, too. He felt as if they were getting somewhere. Emma’s brightness dissipated the closer they got back to Hereford Police Station. She called ahead to tell one of her team that they were ten minutes away and she wanted to meet as soon as she got back. He didn’t envy her having to break the news.

  ‘You want me in there? When you tell them?’

  ‘No. I think it’s better I tell them and let them have their reaction. No offence, George, but it might be best if you aren’t in front of them for that. I know this isn’t your fault—’

  ‘I understand. I don’t mind being the scapegoat for now if it means they’ll work for you. I’m the incompetent outsider and you can be the one who’s going to fix all this. They might respond to that.’

  ‘They’ll respond anyway, George. These are good people. They care. They certainly cared about this job. We’ve got enough going on to keep them busy. If it’s like last time, the problem comes when the activity ends. When we all have to sit down and think again about what we did. Or what Roberts did.’

  ‘They get to make sure he doesn’t do anything else.’

  ‘Unless we’re already too late.’

  George didn’t have a reply to that. The red brick of Hereford Police Station came up on his nearside window. He turned into the visitors’ car park again. Emma was out of the car promptly. George took a deep breath to compose himself.

  * * *

  When Annie Cox came to, she was facing the exposed white metal on the side of the van. Her eyes were still a little blurry. The white panels all blurred into one until she was able to focus on the rivet that was holding them together. She tried to move but couldn’t. Her hands were tied at her waist. She looked down to see that the rope extended around her waist too. Her wrists were painful; the rope was coarse and had severely chafed her skin. She could do nothing about it. Her movement was so restricted that she couldn’t change her position at all.

  She tried to think back. She tried to piece her fragmented memories together but her mind was still muzzy. She remembered being in the van with something. A solid shape that had rolled against her. The van had stopped and the boy had spoken to her. He looked young. He had come right into the back to tell her something. It was something about how she was going to be set free. She remembered how she didn’t believe him. His face, the look in his eyes — it made her more terrified than
ever. She knew there was something else. Something else had happened too. She was so confused, she couldn’t remember. Then it came back to her: someone else!

  Someone else had been pushed into the back of the van. She remembered now: a fleeting memory of a small girl with long blonde hair. There was another man too — older and much bigger than the first, with hair covering most of his face and terrifying eyes, dark and intense.

  She jerked her body, trying to twist to see behind her, to see if the other girl was still here. She tried to speak but it came out as ‘nnnnng.’ She concentrated. Her mouth had a metallic taste. She smacked her lips — they were so dry. ‘Can you hear?’ she managed. Every word was a strain. She knew she wasn’t making much sense. She heard a scuffle, it sounded like movement. She thought it was someone else. It came from behind her. She couldn’t be sure. For all she knew it was her own body scuffing against the smooth, wooden floor. Her legs were numb. Her back was numb. Her eyes were heavy. She could feel sleep coming back. It came on strong. She tried to fight it; she wanted to see if anyone would answer her. She couldn’t fight it any longer. Her eyes closed. Her last thought was that she could no longer hear an engine before she surrendered to the darkness.

  * * *

  George nursed a coffee outside the meeting room where Emma Rowe was speaking to her staff, the same meeting room he had walked into just a few days before with a cock and bull story about Henry Roberts. The truth was about to come out and he was not going to be popular when it did. George didn’t care. He was used to being unpopular in his own force and it sure as hell wasn’t going to bother him in someone else’s. All that mattered was that the team pulled together and worked to bring Roberts back into custody.

  Through the long partition windows, he watched the faces of those he could see. He reckoned he would be able to tell the exact moment when Emma dropped the news. He turned his attention away when the phone vibrated in his pocket. It was his wife.

  ‘Sarah?’

  ‘You broke three of his fingers and the main bone in the back of his hand. It’s so badly broken that he might have to have surgery to correct it when the swelling has gone down.’