Dan laughed. ‘I will, but not yet; we’d just have the same problem of finding a new DI. I need a few more years’ experience, I reckon. But thanks for the vote of confidence.’
‘No, think about it. You could talk it over with the boss, see if she has a couple of sergeants somewhere that you could take under your wing. That way she could still be involved in live cases because you’d let her be. Because that’s what she’s really worried about, isn’t it? Getting a DCI who wants to manage it all him or herself, and she’ll have to go back to office work and schmoozing politicians and press.’
He nodded his appreciation. ‘Spot on, Sal. I suppose we do have a close relationship after the last case, and I have to admit, I like that. She’s a clear head and a quick thinker. Hmm… maybe I will have a word.’
Sally cocked her head on one side. ‘Can’t do any harm to show her you’re keen, can it?’
She closed the office door behind her and gave Dan some thinking time. He needed time to work out his strategy for approaching Oliver. Was he ready for DCI? He thought so. He was already managing two cases, and he’d have two whole units to command if he got the job, plus uniforms and PCSOs. Wow, that was a lot to think about. He’d have to talk it over with Claire, too. And it would change his workload. He shook his head; another time would do.
Pulling his laptop towards him, he opened it and scanned the Garrett file, hoping to find out who Moss Garrett was. His school and juvie records were very interesting. He lived with his mother and brother at a place called The Retreat, an animal rescue centre near Topsham. Not the sort of place he’d have expected to find a drug dealer. And he’d been in regular trouble with the police as a teenager, mostly drunken attacks on other teenagers, bullying, one ABH.
23
‘So,’ Dan surveyed his little team. ‘We’re making progress.’ He indicated the Bog Bodies board. ‘We have place of origin.’
‘The New Zealand police have put a call out to their missing persons bureau. It’s the middle of the night over there, but we’ll know more tomorrow,’ said Oliver.
‘Thanks, ma’am. Ben?’
‘Nothing useful yet, boss. Paula is narrowing the search. I’ve got two uniforms repeating the visits you made to see if the new information makes any difference to what people remember, and I’ve been on to immigration services. They need a warrant.’ He saw Dan’s expression. ‘Nothing to worry about there, it’s just procedure.’
‘I’ll brief the press and ask for it to go out on local news this evening,’ said Oliver.
‘Okay. Great.’ He checked the time. ‘Let’s leave that and go on to Ryan Carr. Lizzie?’
‘Darren’s gone back to work. Lena is thinking of going to stay with her sister in Cornwall. The funeral service is arranged; she’s just waiting on release of the body and a suitable time slot at the crematorium. I don’t think I need to be there any more, sir.’
Dan scratched his cheek. ‘I think it’s alright to release the body. P-M’s done; we’re just awaiting the final results, and I don’t think they’ll tell us anything we don’t know.’ He glanced at Oliver who nodded.
‘In that case,’ said Sally, ‘I’ll contact the hospital and get them to release the body.’
Dan indicated the Ryan Carr board. ‘As you can see, I’ve added the name of Moss Garrett to our intel. He’s the name we got from the drug dealer.’ He scanned his notes. ‘Lives with his mother and brother at a place called The Retreat, on the outskirts of Topsham.’
‘Oh, the animal rescue centre? I know it well,’ said Sally. ‘Paul and I take the girls there all the time. It’s lovely, lots of animals and a little café.’ She paused. ‘Is Moss Garrett anything to do with Barry Garrett?’
‘Gold star to the lady,’ said Dan. ‘Annie Garrett and her two sons, Moss, then aged nineteen and Merlin, twenty-one, took over the rescue centre about ten years ago, when Barry Garrett disappeared and left them destitute. They seem to have made a go of it.’
‘Right, so they’ll be twenty-nine and thirty-one, now, and still living with their mum. Ahh, sweet.’ Bennett clutched his heart and grinned.
‘Moss Garrett is known to us, sir,’ said Bill Larcombe, from his desk.
Dan didn’t tell him that he’d already studied the file.
Larcombe had Moss Garrett’s record in front of him. ‘Charged for ABH, affray, lewd behaviour, drunk and disorderly, all before 2013. Some stuff to do with bullying and nicking when he was at school. Nothing since. Nothing on mother, Annie, or brother, Merlin. Plenty on father, Barry, until he went off our radar in 2006. Presumed living abroad, the warrant for his arrest regarding money laundering and drug trafficking is still live.’
‘Sounds like Moss has made a career choice somewhat different from his mother and brother. A chip off the old block, eh? Perhaps bunnies and pussies aren’t his thing?’ asked Bennett.
‘You haven’t seen him,’ continued Larcombe, pinning a picture captured from Instagram of a huge, shaven-headed bull of a man lifting weights. ‘Built like a brick… err, grizzly bear. Spends all his time in the gym as far as I can tell.’
‘So he has access to steroids and other performance-enhancing drugs?’ asked Bennett.
‘And possibly makes his living dealing them, rather than looking after the animals, yes.’
‘There’s a ready market in the local body builder circuits.’ Bennett shrugged. ‘If he’s branched out into legal highs and found a gap in the market, he sounds like our man.’
‘Sounds plausible,’ said Dan. ‘He hasn’t had a proper job in years, but doesn’t claim benefits. He was a drunken yob at twenty-five, but he’s not been in trouble with the police for the last three years? I can only think that he’s found religion, or his mother and brother support him, or…’
‘Or,’ added Bennett, ‘he’s making a good living dealing and keeping his head down.’
‘Exactly. We need to know a bit about this guy’s movements, and I want to get his supplier, not just him. We’re doing well on this latest crackdown but the pressure’s still on from above. I’d like to nail this guy before he does any more damage. Sally, organise a team to track his movements today and tomorrow. Go into the gym he frequents and keep your eyes open. One of you go to The Retreat and have a butchers round there. Ben, you and Bill carry on building Moss Garrett’s profile. I want to know his inside leg measurement by this afternoon.’
‘I’ll go to The Retreat,’ said Sally. ‘Would you mind if I went home and picked up the twins and my mum, as cover?’
Dan folded his arms, one eyebrow raised. ‘Go on...’
‘I’m not skiving! I can stay there a lot longer with a pair of kids in tow without arousing suspicion. My mum will look after the girls and I can have a good poke about.’
Dan laughed, ‘Best excuse for a day out with the kids I’ve heard in a long time. It’s a good idea, actually. I might try and get there undercover myself.’
‘Are we doing the stake-out on Friday night, sir?’ asked Sam Knowles.
‘Yes, we’ll do it; but I don’t want a cock-up. We watch until we’re sure he has drugs on him, let him shift some, then we move. But if it takes us another few days to get enough on him to arrest him, that’s fine.’ If Bateson and Carr give us a few days.
‘You go to the gym that Garrett frequents, Sam, sign up for a trial or something.’
Sally squeezed Sam’s scrawny arm. ‘You could make good use of a membership, Sam, get a bit of muscle on you. What d’you think, Lizzie?’
Lizzie looked up short-sightedly from her notebook. ‘Hmm? Yeah, great idea,’ she said, and left a crushed Sam chewing the end of his pen.
Dan watched the exchange. Sam had no chance with Lizzie, anyone could see that, poor sod. ‘I’m off to see Lee Bateson to find out the exact spot where he met up with Garrett,’ he said. ‘I’d like to have a word with Gary Bateson and Darren Carr, but I don’t want them to know that Ridout told us Moss Garrett’s name, so I’m keeping away from them for now. You could ask why
they haven’t already told us that they’ve got the name. I think they are up to something.
‘So, keep your wits about you out there. Bateson and Carr know what we know, and they think they’re not bound by the letter of the law. If any of you spot them near the gym or the rescue centre, call for back up and stay out of sight.’
Sally said, ‘I’ll call in a couple of PCs to take a night shift tomorrow and make use of the area car. They’ll do it for the overtime, and that should give us enough bodies on the ground.’
‘We won’t be there all night,’ said Dan. ‘I doubt he does much business after midnight if he’s selling to kids, but thank you. Lizzie, you’re with me.’
He let the others leave and stared out the window, contemplating how he could get in to The Retreat for a sneaky look. It felt wrong to take advantage of Claire, but she wanted a cat, and The Retreat seemed to have cats. He’d put it to her later.
* * *
Kelly Bateson opened the door to Dan and Lizzie. ‘Hello, Inspector,’ she said. ‘They let Lee out yesterday.’ She stood back and let them into the hallway and led them into a room, which could have been out of an Ikea catalogue.
‘You keep a lovely house, Mrs Bateson,’ said Lizzie. ‘I can’t believe you’ve got two little girls. You should see my sister’s place; you can’t sit down without squashing a furry toy. Or worse.’ She plonked herself onto a chair.
Kelly Bateson blushed and thanked Lizzie. ‘I like to keep one room tidy. You should see their bedrooms.’
Dan sat in the other chair, envying the easy way that women could bond over not much at all. ‘Is Lee in bed still?’
‘No, he’s up and about, playing with Maisie upstairs. The hospital said he had to get exercise. Bit wobbly and his breathing’s terrible but I think he’ll be okay. Thank God,’ she added. She walked to the bottom of the stairs and shouted Lee to come down.
Dan couldn’t hide a small smile as the boy struggled down the stairs. Yes, he looked terrible, but at least he was going to survive. ‘Alright Lee?’ he asked as the boy sat on the sofa.
‘Yeah,’ the boy replied, and crossed his arms over his chest.
‘I’ll go up and sit with Maisie while you have a chat with Lee,’ said Kelly Bateson, and trotted up the stairs.
Lizzie looked at Dan and he signalled her to go ahead. ‘Hi Lee,’ she said, voice low and quiet. ‘I’m DC Singh. I’m so sorry about Ryan. I’ve been looking after his mum for the last couple of days, and she’s pretty down, as you can imagine. She’d really like you to help us, you know. The thing is, we’re not asking you who sold you the drugs, so you’re not betraying anybody by answering my question, okay?’
Lee stared at her.
‘All we need to know is where you meet up with the dealer. Where’s his place?’
Lee stared across her shoulder and out into the neat kitchen. ‘Is that it? If I tell you that, you’ll stop asking me questions?’
‘Absolutely, promise,’ she said and winced as Dan shifted in his seat.
‘Okay. He waits under the motorway bridge on the way in to Topsham. On the right, in the shadows, near the footy pitch.’
Lizzie smiled, reached across and patted his knee. ‘Thank you so much, Lee. I’ll tell Mrs Carr how helpful you’ve been.’
Dan stood up. ‘Lee, that’s helpful. Thanks a lot. You look after yourself, mate, alright?’ He smiled at the boy. ‘You’re lucky to be alive; don’t mess up this second chance, eh?’
‘We’re going Mrs Bateson. Thanks very much,’ Dan called up the stairs as they let themselves out of the house.
‘Sorry, sir,’ said Lizzie as soon as the door closed behind them, ‘rookie error.’
‘Too right,’ Dan replied. ‘If we can take this to court, and I bloody well hope we can, that kid will be a prime witness. He’ll be answering questions until he’s blue in the face. So, don’t promise what you can’t deliver.’ He clicked open the car doors and slid inside, smiling a little at her discomfort. ‘Don’t beat yourself up, though, Lizzie, I’ve done so much worse, and I’m sure you will, too.’
Lizzie brightened. ‘And now we know where to set up tomorrow night. Not Countess Wear at all. In fact, it’s almost in Topsham.’
‘And, more relevant, right outside The Retreat, where he lives.’ Dan shook his head. ‘Why pay travel costs when you just have to pop out the door to service your customers?’ He rubbed his hands together. ‘Thunderbirds are go, Lizzie. Let’s catch this guy.’
24
The front door of the house flew open as Sally parked on the drive. Her twins, Rosie and Grace, wearing matching dungarees and mini wellington boots, tumbled out squealing. They threw themselves at Sally as she got out of the car.
‘Are we going to see the aminals?’ asked Rosie.
‘You are. Get into your seats so I can strap you in.’ She pulled the front seats forward and let both girls clamber into the back. Grace could fix her own belt once she was in her seat whereas Rosie was less good with her hands and needed help. Sally checked both girls were tightly secured before sliding into the driver’s seat. There might only have been a few minutes between their births, but her miracle babies were not identical in any way.
Joyce, Sally’s mother, followed and slammed the door shut behind her. Sally felt a surge of love and gratitude towards her mum as she squeezed herself into the battered Fiat. She’d been widowed at fifty, when Sally was just twenty-six, and it had been a hard blow for both of them. She had been Sally’s support and help ever since, especially during the horrible IVF years, and she’d been the twins’ main carer since then. Sally knew she was lucky to have her.
‘Right, you lot,’ Sally said as they settled down. ‘Mummy is still working, but today I am working at The Retreat. So you and Granny can have a lovely look round and not pester me too much.’ She reversed the old car down the drive as the girls nodded and giggled on the back seat.
Joyce said, ‘This is a nice surprise, I must say. Has your dishy inspector had a funny turn?’
‘No, Mum, I’m undercover, and there can’t be a better disguise than two small kids and my lovely mum.’
‘Murderous criminals discovered at animal rescue centre,’ said Joyce. ‘Master criminal brought down by Rosie and Grace Ellis, undercover child superheroes…’
‘Alright, Mother, don’t get carried away,’ laughed Sally. ‘I’m just seeing how the place works; leave it all to me. You just enjoy yourselves.’
* * *
The Retreat occupied a twenty-acre site just off the main Topsham Road. Nearby was a boat builders’ yard, a private road for some very nice houses and not much else. Sally turned onto the driveway and bounced along a poorly kept track into the equally rutted car park. Puddles glistened in the sun. She could hear the seagulls shouting over the estuary that lay just behind a line of fresh-leaved poplar trees a few hundred yards away. All local noise was muted by the roar of traffic on the motorway flyover to the rear of the rescue centre.
‘Right, gang,’ she said, ‘first we’ll check out the guinea pigs and bunny rabbits, then we’ll see if there are any dogs or cats around.’ She clambered out and hoisted the girls from their seats. ‘Then we can feed the donkeys or the ducks and have a nice drink in the café. How does that sound?’
Further squealing and a heated discussion between the girls about what they wanted to do first gave Sally time to look around. She’d been there often with the girls, but now she was looking in a different way. Could Moss Garrett be using this place as a front for his drug-dealing?
Her mother took a child in each hand and walked ahead, intending to buy them a treat. Sally followed into the little shop that served as an entrance to the rescue centre. She paid the entrance fee to a man behind the counter, who she now knew was Merlin Garrett. He was a large man with a head of wiry, dark ginger hair and a beard to match. His bulk didn’t intimidate her; in fact she was drawn to him. He was cuddly. Sally gave a wry smile. Dan would love it if she fed back that a suspect was cuddly. She
watched him at the till. His brown eyes were clear, his hands steady. She couldn’t picture him as a user.
‘Got many visitors in today?’
Merlin Garrett smiled at her. ‘One or two. It’s the first dry day we’ve had in a week, so we always get people, a bit like yourselves, out for some fresh air.’ He took more cash for the strawberry liquorice sweets that the girls insisted they wanted. ‘Café’s open, if you’d like a drink later. Oh, and Ma will be feeding the ducks at eleven o’clock sharp,’ he said, looking at the girls. ‘So don’t be late if you want to help.’
The twins, closely followed by Joyce, rushed out through the door and into the centre. Sally leant against the counter. ‘How on earth do you keep all this going? It must be tough. I bet the animals cost a fortune to feed.’
‘Oh, you know,’ he shrugged, ‘we have legacies from nice old ladies, donations, and we’ve got a great set of volunteers who fundraise for us.’ He smiled at her. ‘You could be a volunteer if you like. Clean out the pigs, walk the dogs?’
Sally smiled back; she liked this man. ‘With two kids under four? In my dreams. But I’d love to, one day. Do you have many paid staff?’ she asked.
‘So you’re saying you’d work here if we paid you?’ he laughed. ‘It’s always the way. Whatever happened to altruism? Well, me, Ma and my brother are full-time, and we’ve got several part-timers. Plus the volunteers; we couldn’t manage without them.’
‘Well, you’re doing a great job,’ Sally said, and followed her family outside.
She could see Joyce and the girls with the guinea pigs, so she wandered over towards the pig enclosure, where she could see a large-boned, red-haired woman mucking out the sleeping area. Annie Garrett. She was an unreconstructed hippie, with her long hennaed hair tied in a plait that almost reached her bum, and a long skirt trailing over wellington boots. She’d had several conversations with Annie over the past couple of years about the animals. A difficult, unfriendly woman, she’d thought, who only came alive when talking about her beloved dogs. Very different to her eldest son. Sally nodded at the woman, but got no response. Rude, too.
Death on Dartmoor Page 12
