Death on Dartmoor

by Bernie Steadman

  ‘But,’ interrupted Lizzie Singh, shuffling forward out of the corduroy cocoon of the armchair, ‘if you like, we could plan a memorial service for Ryan. Get the school and his friends involved. Would you like me to help you do that?’ she said.

  Lena Carr nodded, tearing shreds of damp tissue into her lap.

  Darren Carr stood up to his full height. He was a wiry six foot with tattoos curling and crawling up his arms and out through the top of his sweatshirt, a shaved head and earrings in both ears. Dan thought he might be handy in a fight, and wondered what he did for a living.

  ‘You’re gonna get them, aren’t you, mate?’ Darren flexed his fingers, closing them into fists and opening them again.

  ‘I am, although I’d appreciate “Inspector” instead of “mate”, thanks,’ said Dan, rising to face him. ‘Don’t go getting any ideas about sorting this out yourself, Mr Carr. The best way to help your mother now is to be there for her, not inside on an assault charge. If you have names of anybody I could talk to, though, that would be very useful.’ He pulled out a card from his wallet and passed it over.

  Darren glanced at the card and nodded. ‘Yeah, might be able to think of a few people. Head shops all closed down now, though.’

  ‘I know,’ said Dan, ‘that’s why I need a bit of local knowledge. Who’s dealing? Where from? That sort of thing.’

  Sally stood up, too. ‘I’ll leave DC Singh with you for the day, Miss Carr. Ask her anything you like. What she doesn’t know she can soon find out. Once again, I’m so sorry about Ryan.’

  As they reached the door at the end of the ward, Dan looked back to see Darren Carr in deep conversation with Gary Bateson in the corridor. He had a bad feeling about those two.

  16

  Dan stared at a tiny piece of paper that was stuck to his wall. A triangle of white paper and a strip of old tape curling at the edge. He considered getting up and removing it, but then what would he have to look at?

  He couldn’t question Lee Bateson until he woke up. The three other boys were being questioned at their homes by Sally and she’d be back for the afternoon briefing. He’d let Sally take the interviews because he’d wanted to go back to the station to think. But he was all thunk out, and hadn’t got anywhere.

  His mobile phone rang; his mother’s ring tone. ‘Yeah, Mum. What can I do for you?’ He picked up a pen and continued a doodle of stars and planets on his notepad. He thought it might look nice on the wall, next to the scrap.

  ‘Daniel, I hope you’re not too busy to talk, darling?’ She didn’t wait for an answer. ‘Because I want to go to visit Alison, and your dad said that after last time he wasn’t ever going there again.’ She faltered. ‘It’s just… I can’t face it on my own.’

  Dan sighed. He’d been expecting the call since he’d told his mother where Alison was. ‘You know I don’t want to, and you know why,’ he began, but then he felt like a jerk and caved in without a fight. ‘But, I know you want to see her so I’ll take you. When?’

  ‘I knew I could rely on you, Daniel. Thank you, darling. It’s on Saturday between two and four.’

  ‘I’ll pick you up at one o’clock,’ he said.

  ‘Why don’t you come at twelve and we can have some lunch before we set off? It’ll just be the two of us, as your father will be off on the golf course, naturally. I must not get in the way of precious golf, must I?’

  ‘Fine, I’ll see you then. Bye.’ Dan sighed again. Were all relationships destined to end up being a carefully navigated channel of miscommunication, accommodation and barely tolerated criticism? He sincerely hoped not. He hoped that he and Claire would always be able to talk to each other honestly about things that mattered. He winced. Perhaps he ought to start that process by telling her about his sister the junkie, serving eighteen months in Bristol Women’s Prison for dealing.

  Alison was a nightmare. Had been all her life. She’d stolen Dan’s pocket money, their parents’ belongings, even the microwave oven, for Christ’s sake. She’d almost set fire to the bloody house, once. And she’d carried on doing it; every time she got so low that she had to come home before she died out on the street. He rubbed his face with his hands. ‘You’ve got to tell Claire tonight,’ he said aloud. ‘Stop being a total wimp.’ But he knew it was shame, not cowardice that had stopped him from telling her already.

  * * *

  Afternoon briefing was as frustrating as he’d expected. Sally swung through the door, threw her bag on the table and shook her head at Dan. ‘Nothing?’ he asked.

  ‘Not much, I’m afraid. Give me a minute to grab a drink and I’ll update you.’ She poured two mugs of coffee, added sugar and milk to hers, and milk to Dan’s before she passed it over.

  He took his drink and found his usual perch. ‘Sam,’ he barked, ‘Over here, now.’

  Sam Knowles looked wounded at the harsh tone, but shambled across and folded himself into a chair both too short and too low for him. ‘Sorry, sir,’ he said. ‘It’s not quite four o’clock yet.’

  ‘Oh. Right. Where’s Sergeant Bennett?’

  ‘He’s just finishing up the phone interviews with Paula Tippett. He’ll be along shortly, sir,’ Sam said.

  Dan sipped and grimaced, some of the sugar off Sally’s spoon had tainted the coffee. He hated sweet drinks. He had nothing for the team yet after another hour of fruitless thinking. Maybe one of the others? He scanned their faces but no-one looked eager. Please don’t let this case go bad, he prayed, to no god in particular.

  ‘Right, let’s crack on,’ he said. ‘Sally?’

  ‘Lee Bateson did the deal. He brought wraps of what they thought was MCat, a previously legal high. It’s well known and hasn’t until now had serious repercussions except in people with an existing illness. None of them had snorted a drug before, so they didn’t know what to expect. It wasn’t the first time they had tried MCat, but this time was different. Stronger, and it knocked all of them out. All three report,’ she read from her notebook, ‘shaking, hallucinations, and heart racing, before they fell unconscious.’ She looked up. ‘More importantly, Ryan Carr and Lee Bateson snorted three wraps of the stuff between them. Apparently the dealer just “gave” them an extra one.’

  Ben Bennett entered the room, followed by Lizzie Singh and Paula Tippett.

  Whilst they were finding seats and settling down, Dan added the drugs information to the empty board. ‘What’s wrong with this picture?’ he asked.

  ‘Why would a dealer give away his product?’ said Sally.

  ‘Exactly. Why indeed?’

  ‘What if,’ hazarded Sam, ‘what if it’s a new supplier, trying to get the kids on board, and offering freebies?’

  Sally looked at him with approval. ‘We did wonder this morning if it might be a new dealer on the block,’ she said.

  ‘We’ll know more after the post-mortem on Ryan Carr,’ said Dan, ‘and they’re going to do a liver biopsy on Lee Bateson before they wake him up tomorrow. Those results should give us more detail on what the boys snorted.’

  Lizzie Singh put up her hand. ‘Sir, Ryan Carr’s brother, Darren says there is a load of new stuff on the streets since the head shops were all closed down earlier this year. He thinks he may be able to get us some names.’

  ‘Thanks, Lizzie. I asked Lee Bateson’s dad to do the same. I didn’t like the look of those two, though. I think they may try to take the law into their own hands, and I don’t want them mucking up our investigation.’

  ‘Darren Carr spent nearly all the time I was there on the phone. He’s keen. He said he’d have a list of names for you by tomorrow.’

  ‘Great. How’s Lena Carr holding up?’

  ‘She’s not, really. Darren may look a bit rough, but he’s there for her. I’m going to help them plan a memorial service for Ryan – give them something to do, while the P-M takes place.’

  ‘That was good thinking Lizzie, well done.’

  ‘Thanks, sir,’ said Lizzie, pink and embarrassed by the praise.

  D
an cleared his throat. ‘Right. Do we have anything else on the Ryan Carr investigation so far?’

  Bennett shrugged and ran his hand over the growing bald spot at the top of his head. ‘Background checks on both families show that Lena Carr’s partner died from a drug overdose when Ryan was just a baby. It’s been the three of them ever since. Darren, age nineteen, got into trouble when he was younger, but high jinks, not serious crime. Now he works as a roofer, and seems to have a steady girlfriend.

  ‘Lena Carr, age forty-one, works at Boots in the city, on the beauty counter.

  ‘Ryan was a pain in the neck at school, bit of a clever dick. I told the head teacher that we may have to interview some of the students later in the week. They’re doing some sort of memorial service, and I suggested he talk to the local PC about some more focussed drug education.’

  ‘Thanks. What about the Batesons?’

  ‘Gary thirty-six and Kelly, twenty-nine. They have three children, two girls age three and six, plus Lee, who was born to Kelly when she was just fifteen. Father not listed. Gary is a lorry driver; Kelly is at home with the younger children. Lee is also a nuisance at school, attention-seeking rather than nasty, according to the head teacher.’

  ‘Okay, thanks,’ said Dan. ‘Sally, take Sam and see if any of the kids at the school has a clue about dealers. Check out the kids who were at the party, interview any that sound useful.’

  ‘Ben, check out local sources re any new dealers, or suppliers in the area. I’ll add any names from Bateson and Carr. Someone treading on their territory usually hacks off enough people to raise a ripple or two. And check out hospital A and E lists – have they had any other overdoses in the last couple of months that might be interesting?’

  Dan paused and looked around the table. ‘Bill and I will attend the P-M for Ryan Carr. I’m hoping it will show up what the boy took that killed him.’ He scanned his notes; precious little else.

  ‘That’s it for Carr, anything new on Bog Bodies? No? Please, someone put me out of my misery.’ He rolled his eyes at the blank faces. ‘Well, DCS Oliver only gave us two weeks to get to the bottom of the case, and we have to fit it in around the Carr investigation, so make time to follow things up.’

  He checked his notebook again. ‘Doctor Pargeter has found samples of hessian, so the bodies could have been transported in sacks. Also, straw, of the kind used to feed or bed down animals. I know it’s vague but we might be looking at a farm setting. Ben, add that to the board for me, please, and see if any of your shortlist match up. Finally, he did give me some really useful dating – he reckons the bodies have been there between five and ten years, according to the insect carcase data. So that narrows our search even more.’

  Ben Bennett added the latest data to the board. ‘That’s useful, boss.’ He nodded at Bill and Paula Tippett. ‘We can get rid of several names and drill down a bit now.’

  ‘Yes and there’s a bit more. The icing on the cake – the tattoo was from the right ankle, and it was possibly some sort of flower, just as we thought.’

  ‘I’ll take a break from looking after Miss Carr tomorrow, sir,’ said Lizzie, ‘and go round some of the tattoo parlours, see if anyone can tell me anything about the flower on the ankle.’

  ‘That’ll be useful, Lizzie. Bill, anything more?’

  ‘No. Paula and I have refined the list, and can do more now. We made about a hundred phone calls, but we can’t get a focus until we have the isotope analysis, and can home in on an area of the country. I’ve harassed the lab to death. They’re avoiding my calls now. They have promised it by Friday, but I think you may get it sooner. I’ve called in a couple of favours.’

  Dan eyed his Sergeant. ‘Favours, eh, Bill? Good work. Anyone else got any favours they could call in?’

  Nobody answered. ‘Okay, let’s focus on Ryan Carr. You all know what you’re doing tomorrow. Let’s go home.’ He stood up and stretched, feeling tension across his shoulders and a headache worming its way across his left eye.

  17

  A long, boring night with no Claire stretched away in front of him. It was only seven o’clock and he was twitchy with unspent adrenaline. Dan opened the French doors of his flat, leaned his elbows on the balcony and watched people dashing to get home, or meeting up for drinks and food in the Italian that took up the ground floor of his apartment building. He felt very much on the outside of that kind of easy social life.

  He poured himself a glass of red and contemplated the inside of the fridge. It didn’t take long. He’d been eating over at Claire’s most evenings, and enjoyed trawling the supermarkets with her, planning what they would eat. He felt a bit bereft on the nights she was busy at a school event, or on her spinning class, or out with her friends. He munched on a bag of salted peanuts.

  What he really fancied was a curry and a few beers. So he rang Neil Pargeter, who was definitely up for a curry and a couple of pints in town. Dan whistled as he showered and found a pair of clean black jeans, his Timberland boots and a black tee-shirt. He eyed the washing basket, which had shorts, shirts and assorted socks spilling artfully onto the floor. From nowhere he flashed back to the night he and Ian Gould had sneaked off to the recording studio, to do a bit of out-of-hours detecting, dressed all in black. He shuddered, shaking his hands as if they burned. It was a memory that rose, unbidden, to haunt his dreams. The red light, the figure rising and shooting Ian, his own helplessness. Dan rubbed his face, grabbed his wallet, keys and jacket and slammed the door behind him.

  Three hours, three pints and a lamb madras down, Dan was slumped against the yellow wall of The Crown Hotel. He watched the scarecrow figure of Neil Pargeter chatting up the barmaid and decided the next pint would be his last. It was only Monday, after all. And it was time to get down to business.

  Neil placed both pints on the table and slid in next to Dan, so he could also lean against the wall and survey the barmaid. ‘The thing is,’ said Dan, as if there had been no break in conversation, ‘I need to know who the new dealers are. We have got our own intel, but nobody is naming anyone we don’t already know about, if you see what I mean, and we already know what they deal in. I could use a new face asking around.’

  ‘Right,’ said Neil, studying the froth on his pint. ‘So what you’re saying is that you want me to ask around the university to see if any of the students–’

  ‘Or staff.’

  ‘Or staff, have heard anything about a new form of MCat.’

  ‘Yeah, that’s about it. If you wouldn’t mind.’ Dan grinned and sipped at the beer. It was good.

  Neil glanced sideways at him. ‘Thing is, Dan, students are the most paranoid people in the world. They think everything revolves around them. If I start asking questions, and they see me out with you, and put two and two together…’

  ‘You worried about your reputation as a cool dude, Neil?’

  ‘As if. I’m thirty-five years old, never had a serious girlfriend, well not one I’ve lived with. No parents, and a brother who lives in Australia.’ Neil gave a rueful smile. ‘My job means everything to me.’ He looked away, embarrassed by his confession. ‘I do want to be liked by the students. I don’t want to be a member of the hated establishment.’ He laughed. ‘Well, not yet, anyway.’

  ‘I get it, Neil. Sorry, didn’t mean to put you on the spot. It’s just that if anyone has access to the drugs scene without causing alarm bells to ring, it’s you. Forget I asked you.’

  ‘Great, ta. I will keep my eyes open, though. In fact there’s been a bit of thieving from the department over the last couple of weeks that I’ve been wanting to talk to you about.’

  ‘Okay. Shoot.’

  ‘It may be nothing, but chemicals that could be used to make drugs have been going missing from the drugs’ cupboards.’

  Dan sat up straight and cursed the last two pints. His brain felt fuddled. ‘Who do you think has been nicking?’

  ‘Well, that’s the problem,’ said Neil. ‘I don’t know. Virtually all the staff have acces
s to the labs and the cupboards. If they have a key, they can get to the chemicals. It was only on Friday that I realised some more had gone. Didn’t know what to do, really. So I thought I’d ask you.’

  ‘Neil, this could be our link with the dealer. If we can catch the maker, we can stop any more of this stuff coming onto the market and killing kids. We should get a team up there and stake the labs out–’

  ‘Hold on a minute, Sherlock. The lab is on a narrow corridor opposite the toilets. There’s no way you could bring in a team.’ He held up his hand to stop Dan interrupting. ‘Leave it with me. I’ll keep watch. It’s bound to happen in a quiet time so I’ll make sure I’m around.’

  Dan considered the offer for a moment. It made sense. He didn’t have a team to stake out the place. Or a budget for state-of-the-art surveillance cameras. ‘Well, okay, but for Christ’s sake don’t get yourself seen. I’m not happy at you putting yourself in danger.’

  ‘I’m not in danger, you plonker. It’s my department. The thief is the one in danger. Of losing his or her job for starters, and ending up in prison. No, I’ll be fine, no worries. I’ll contact you as soon as I have a name. I won’t approach them.’

  Dan swirled a pattern in a puddle of spilled beer with his forefinger, and tried to get hold of his excitement. ‘It would be great if it turned out to be a lead. At least we’d be making progress on one case.’ As opposed to getting nowhere on either of them.

  ‘I’ll have to tell admin, just so they know what’s going on. And security, in case your lot come charging in all lights blazing. With guns. Or dogs.’ He laughed. ‘That would give the students a collective heart attack.’

  ‘You’re right. Be funny though.’ Dan smiled. ‘Don’t worry, we’ll play it cool, see who comes out of the woodwork, and pounce before they have the chance to contact anyone. Or…’ he thought for a moment, swirling the beer in his glass. ‘Or, we don’t pounce, we follow them. We could catch dealer and maker at the same time. Now, that would cheer me up!’