Death on Dartmoor

by Bernie Steadman

  Darren stood in the narrow space next to the bed, and leaned in close to Ryan’s face. ‘We’ll get whoever did this, Ryan, don’t you worry,’ he whispered, then he turned to his mother. ‘Go out for a fag, Ma, you look knackered,’ he said. ‘I’ll look after Ryan. Go on. You could get a bit of sleep in that room next door.’ He pulled her up from the chair and wiped his fingers across her stained eyes. ‘And you might want to pay a visit to the ladies’ room while you’re gone, tidy yourself up a bit. There’ll be police here in the morning. Usually are.’ He sank into the vacant chair and closed his eyes as his mother left the room. He wanted to run through all the dealers he knew in the city, ready for the next day.

  14

  Dan stood in the kitchen and ate toast. Another Monday and no return to the early promise of summer. He watched the rain hopping off the little table and chair on the balcony and sighed. A sort of gloom sat in the middle of his head. The lack of progress on Bog Bodies made him feel helpless. Just waiting on Interpol and the bone analysis lab and more useless interviews with people who knew nothing. And the two-week window Oliver had allowed him to get somewhere was rapidly running out. All in all, it was looking a bit bleak.

  He’d enjoyed himself with Neil at the pub the night before. It was quiet there on a Sunday, no live music to bring in the crowds, but they’d had a good chat about music and bands they liked. Turned out Neil played harmonica in a local blues band. Dan glanced at his un-played guitar, gathering dust on its dinky stand in the corner of the living room. He wandered over, wedged the toast between his teeth and picked it up. A few chords demonstrated that it needed tuning. He should start to play again, properly. You never knew when the opportunity to jam with Neil’s band might come along. He hadn’t asked Neil, of course. Nothing more uncool than looking too eager, but if he got his fingers back into shape, who knew?

  * * *

  Sally put the phone down as Dan entered the incident room, slinging his waterproof over the back of the nearest chair and heading for the coffee machine. ‘Morning,’ he muttered.

  ‘We’ve got a new job on, boss. You’re to go straight up to see DCS Oliver so she can brief you.’

  ‘Thank God for that,’ he said abandoning thoughts of coffee reluctantly. ‘I thought we were going to be on directing bloody traffic this week there’s so little happening on the Bog Bodies. Tell everyone to stay in the office and get on with clearing as much paperwork as they can. Back soon.’ He grabbed his notebook and headed upstairs to DCS Oliver’s office.

  ‘She’s expecting you,’ said the redoubtable Stella as he paused at her desk. She winked at him. ‘Coffee to take in with you?’ She indicated the pot of coffee warming on the hotplate.

  ‘You’re a life-saver, Stella. I’ve not had chance since I got in.’ He filled a mug, added milk and tapped on the chief’s door.

  ‘Come in, Dan,’ said Julie Oliver. ‘Take a seat.’ She waited until he settled down. ‘I know you’re nowhere near clearing up Bog Bodies, but this is urgent, and I want you on the case.’ Oliver cleared her throat and perused a sheet of paper. ‘Last Friday night was party night at a house near Countess Wear. There seems to have been quite a lot of ecstasy and myriad “legal highs” around.’ She set her mouth in a thin line. ‘They haven’t been legal since last spring, and how much closer are we to stopping production?’ She eyed Dan beadily. ‘Nowhere near, that’s where we are.’ She shook the piece of paper. ‘Anyway, we had five lads, aged between fourteen and fifteen taken into to Exeter A and E, two with acute drug poisoning, in the early hours of Sunday morning when the parents of the girl holding the party got home.’

  She read a little more. ‘Apparently, they were spark out on the floor and the other kids were just dancing round them.’

  ‘We may need a school campaign about looking after your mates on a night out,’ said Dan, noting the details in his book. ‘Community policing–’

  ‘The point is,’ said Oliver speaking over him, ‘the point is that this morning at eight-seventeen, one of the boys,’ she checked her pad, ‘a Ryan Carr, age fifteen, died, and one of the others is still unconscious after forty-eight hours. The other three are recovering slowly.’

  ‘Ryan Carr… Wasn’t he–’

  ‘One of the boys who discovered the body of Carly Braithwaite in April?’ She nodded. ‘Yes, and Lee Bateson, he of the cocky manner, is the other unconscious one. That’s why I want you to take this on. You know the kids, and the Bog Bodies isn’t going anywhere, is it?’

  Dan took a sip of hot coffee. ‘Ouch. Point taken, but we are spreading our search to check abroad, now, and we’ve still got bone analysis to come.’

  ‘Nothing back from the phone calls after the appeal?’

  ‘Nothing worth having so far. There are still a few to do, and we are following up the tattoo angle.’

  ‘Well, this will have to take priority. It’s a murder investigation as far as we’re concerned. The Coroner has seen the body. P-M scheduled for…’ she checked her pad again, ‘Wednesday next.’

  ‘I knew that Bateson boy was going to be trouble,’ said Dan. ‘Might have known it would be drugs.’ He tapped the pen against his chin, thinking back to two years previously, before he’d transferred to Devon. ‘A death takes the whole legal high argument to a different level, doesn’t it?’

  ‘Have you dealt with legal high deaths before?’ asked Oliver.

  ‘Yes, in the Met. In 2014. Two deaths at the same party. There were over a hundred deaths from legal highs that year – the worst yet. Caught the guys who were making the stuff and the CPS charged them with manslaughter. Then the judge threw it out because he said they weren’t actually trying to kill anybody. Even though they had cut the ecstasy with garden weed killer.’ He shrugged. ‘They got eight years for dealing and will be back on the streets in a year or two.’

  ‘Well,’ said Oliver, ‘typical though that is, there’s no point in us sitting here wishing things were different.’ She passed the briefing note over to Dan and shook her head in frustration. ‘I hate this. I hate having kids, even stupid ones, mown down before they even have a chance. Especially by some callous dealer lining his pockets by cutting the stuff with crap.’ She shook her head. ‘I’ve no idea how you’re going to manage both cases, but you’ll have to, at least until Team One finish their case and can give you some help.

  ‘I’m hoping we can close this case, quickly, Dan. It’s not looking good having the Bog Bodies hanging over us, if you see what I mean, so let’s see if we can find the source of the drugs. There can’t be that many legal high outlets left in Exeter.’

  ‘No, I’m not sure there are any left; but if people want drugs, there’s always a way to get them,’ said Dan. He stood up, slurping the last of his coffee. ‘Press?’ he asked.

  ‘I’m going to tell them a potted version of what I told you,’ she said. ‘I don’t like this one tiny bit.’

  Dan returned to an incident room full of expectant faces sitting round the table, notebooks open. He’d even still got the Community Support officer from the phone call rota, and made a note to see if he could second her for the new investigation. ‘Well, this case should keep us on our toes,’ he said, perching one buttock on the table. ‘The chief has asked us to take this on as well as Bog Bodies, so we’ll be stretched. A fifteen-year-old boy died in the early hours of this morning in hospital. He took a fatal dose of something, probably a so-called ‘legal high’ bought on the streets. The boy was Ryan Carr, one of the lads who found Carly Braithwaite’s body.’

  ‘No,’ said Sally.

  ‘I’m afraid so. And the other irony is that Lee Bateson, the other kid we interviewed, is in a coma in the same hospital ward.’

  ‘That is serious bad karma,’ said Sam Knowles, scrubbing his knobbly hands through his hair. ‘They’re just kids.’

  ‘We tried a crackdown on the legal high dealers last year,’ added Bill Larcombe, ‘when the new legislation was about to come into force. It worked for a while. The shops clo
sed down but it just sent the trade underground.’

  ‘So, you think this might be a new supplier? New to Exeter, anyway?’

  ‘Could be. There are always new drugs coming in. We’re only guessing that it’s legal highs, aren’t we?’

  ‘Yes, until the P-M we won’t know for sure. But it looks likely. And I’ll bet you my pension that either the kid was wasted on alcohol or someone doctored the drug.’

  ‘Yeah,’ said Sally. ‘They were probably just kids messing about on a Friday night and went too far.’

  Dan watched Lizzie Singh’s face fall. ‘You alright, Lizzie?’

  ‘Yes, sir, it just seems like such a waste. That poor kid and his poor family. They must be devastated.’ She smoothed out her face and studied her notepad.

  ‘Why don’t you and Sergeant Ellis get over to the hospital and speak to the family, if they’re still there? Lizzie, you step in as family liaison, so take what you need for the rest of the day. I’ll come with you and talk to Lee Bateson’s family.’

  Sam waved a hand at him. ‘I expect I’m looking for drugs contacts and informants, am I?’

  ‘You are indeed. I don’t have any contacts in the local underworld yet, so I’m relying on other officers, local knowledge, youth workers, teachers. We have, of course, got the list of names kindly provided by our cannabis producer after the raid last week, so work through that, too. Ask everyone.’

  ‘Try the local drugs drop-ins and help lines, too,’ said Sally. ‘I’m sure they’ll want to help.’

  ‘DCS Oliver will set up another press conference with the families, so let’s hope that brings in a few leads, too. In the meantime, Bill and Ben, and…’ He looked at the PCSO.

  ‘Tippett, Paula Tippett,’ she said, pushing back bushy brown hair and straightening smeared glasses.

  ‘Paula, great to have you on the team. Well, can you finish the last of the follow-up calls for Bog Bodies, please? And Ben, you get onto the Plymouth lab and hurry them up a bit over the bone analysis. Bill, get back onto Interpol to see if we have any leads at all. I’ll see you all back here,’ he checked his watch, ‘at four pm for a briefing, and we’ll see what we’ve got.’

  15

  Dan decided to walk to the hospital from the station. It was good to exercise his foot, even though it complained. He waved Sally and Lizzie off in the death trap that Sally called her car, zipped up his coat and set off at a good pace. By the time they’d found a parking spot, he’d be waiting for them. The sun flickered at him as clouds dashed across the sky and he took a deep breath. It was good to be outside. He crossed the main road and headed down the back streets, away from the traffic and noise.

  On a quiet, tree-lined side street, he had time to think. He had to be careful, managing two cases, that he didn’t neglect one in favour of the other. Normally, his DCI would take up the reins on the first case for him and they would work together. He couldn’t rely on Oliver for that kind of support, obviously, so he had to stay sharp.

  He crossed Barrack Road and strode up to the main entrance of the Royal Devon and Exeter Hospital. He could see the top of the old white Fiat Panda circling the packed car park and allowed himself a small smile of victory. The fact that he would have broken the four-minute mile to get there before the women had nothing to do with the smug look on his face when they joined him by the wall amongst a huddle of patients in dressing gowns puffing on cigarettes.

  ‘Bramble Ward?’ he asked Sally.

  She nodded, leading the way. ‘High dependency unit. They’re expecting us.’ She led them down a broad corridor decorated with children’s art. ‘Gary and Kelly Bateson are with their son. Lena Carr and her eldest son, Darren, are in the parent’s room, waiting for us.’

  ‘Okay, I’ll see the Batesons and join you with Miss Carr in, say, thirty minutes? Lizzie, you stay with Miss Carr for a while, see if you can work up some background on Ryan’s comings and goings.’

  ‘If the older son is staying with Miss Carr,’ said Lizzie, ‘I’ll come back to the station later.’

  He buzzed the intercom and told the nurse who they were. The door swung open into a ward filled with light, colour and the noise of children talking, quiet laughter, and the occasional bed with the curtain drawn all the way around. The nurse who let them in, a square, solid woman with a Spanish accent, took Dan towards the high dependency unit at the far end of the ward and directed the others to the parents room. Before he went in, she stopped him. ‘It looks like Lee will live. The doctor is keeping him in a light coma until he’s sure that the liver and brain are functioning well enough for him to recover at least some of his faculties. The other boy,’ she nodded towards the parents’ room, ‘he didn’t have any fight left in him after forty-eight hours. We tried everything we could but there was too much damage. You will try hard to catch whoever did this, won’t you, Inspector, before we have any more?’ She opened the door and ushered him in.

  Gary Bateson stood up as soon as Dan entered the room and thrust a meaty hand towards him. ‘You must be the inspector,’ he said. ‘Gary Bateson.’ He pulled his wife up by the hand. ‘This is my wife, Kelly.’

  Dan took in the shock and confusion in their eyes. Parents really had no idea what their kids were up to, did they? How could he tell them that Lee had lied to them, probably for months, about what he was doing at weekends? ‘It’s good to meet you,’ he said, and showed them his warrant card. ‘I’m so sorry about Lee. It must be such a shock to see him like this.’

  Tears welled in Kelly Bateson’s eyes and meandered down plump cheeks to lose themselves in rolls of flesh at her neck. ‘We’ve had to get my mum in to look after his sisters,’ she said. ‘What are we going to do if Lee’s disabled? How will we manage?’ She clung onto Gary’s tee-shirt and pushed her face into his ample chest, coughing out breaths that shuddered against him.

  Over her head, Gary Bateson met Dan’s eyes. ‘I’ll do anything I can to help catch the bastards that did this, inspector. Just say the word and I can have half this city out looking for them.’

  Great, thought Dan. Vigilante mobs roaming the streets will really help the situation. ‘I hear what you’re saying, and thanks for the offer.’ He waved them back into their chairs and brought another one round from the far side of the bed. They had to sit almost knee to knee.

  Kelly Bateson dried her tears on the edge of her hoodie. ‘Don’t push, love,’ she said to her husband. ‘The police will sort it out, won’t you?’ Her look was so full of need it was painful.

  ‘Mrs Bateson’s right, sir,’ he said. ‘We will find the people that are selling this stuff on the streets and stop them. It’s better if we do that, rather than you. You don’t want assault charges brought against you if it got out of hand.’

  He raised a calming hand towards Gary Bateson. ‘I know what you’re going to say, and I understand why you want to be involved.’ Dan thought for a moment. ‘There is something you can do that I can’t,’ he said.

  ‘Anything. You name it, it’s done.’ Bateson sat forward on the plastic chair, which creaked under his weight.

  A former body builder, thought Dan, gone to seed. Jesus, he can’t be more than thirty-five, but look at him. And I need to give him something to do that won’t jeopardise the operation. ‘I’ve only just come back to Exeter from years in the Met, and I don’t know the drugs scene round here at all anymore. Could you, quietly, find me some names to investigate? Or better still, some people who might be willing to talk to me, even if they normally wouldn’t, once they hear about what’s happened to Lee and Ryan?’

  Bateson sat back on his chair and folded massive arms over his stomach. He nodded. ‘Yeah, I can do that. Be glad to.’

  Dan passed him a card from his wallet and stood. ‘I’ll be back at the station later, but you can raise me on the mobile any time, whether to tell me some names, or just because you need to talk to somebody. Okay?’ He shook Bateson’s hand and patted Kelly Bateson on the arm. ‘I hope Lee will come around soon.’ He bent
over the bed towards Lee, small in the white bed, and took his cool hand. ‘I’ll find out who did this, Lee, and I’ll put them away for a very long time. That’s my promise to you.’

  He closed the door behind him and followed the corridor to the parent’s room. Inside, seated on a brown corduroy sofa, were Lena Carr and her son, Darren. Lizzie and Sally sat opposite them in matching brown armchairs. They were all looking at the nurse standing between them.

  Dan slipped into the room and perched on the arm of Sally’s chair. ‘Sorry,’ he said, ‘DI Hellier. Please, carry on.’

  Lena Carr said, ‘What… what happens now? To Ryan, I mean.’ Her son held onto her hand.

  The nurse answered, ‘We’ve taken Ryan away to the mortuary where he’ll be safe for now. Then, as soon as the police tell us it’s okay, we’ll let you take him away to a funeral parlour of your choice. They will arrange everything for you.’ She held Lena Carr’s hand briefly. ‘I’ll leave you now. Just ask if there’s anything you need. Take as long as you like in here,’ she said, and left.

  ‘We’ll have to arrange a post-mortem, Miss Carr, so we can tell you exactly why Ryan died,’ said Sally.

  ‘You’re gonna cut him up, aren’t you?’ muttered Darren Carr.

  ‘The pathologist is brilliant at his job, Darren. Ryan will look fine when he’s finished.’ She gave him a sympathetic smile. ‘We know how horrible this is for both of you, but we do need to do this. We need to know what he took, and why–’

  ‘Why Ryan died and the others were okay?’

  ‘Yes, Darren,’ she said. ‘That’s exactly what we have to do.’

  The young man nodded and squeezed his mother’s hand. ‘It’ll be alright, Ma.’

  ‘When… when can I take him home?’ whispered Lena Carr.

  Sally flashed a glance at Dan. ‘Not straightaway. I’m sorry. We have to let the investigation run its course.’