‘And now that you’re in the gang, as it were, he’ll be happy to talk to you?’ asked Larcombe.
‘That’s the plan.’
‘Bloody good undercover work, DC Singh,’ he added.
‘Too right, well done Lizzie,’ said Dan. ‘Extreme, but effective. Get round there with Adam and see if Dave Mercer keeps any kind of record of his work.’
He opened his notebook. ‘Okay, on to the death of Ryan Carr. I had a good look around the barn at The Retreat and found what might be a buried store under the earthen floor. Might be nothing of the sort, of course. I also met Merlin Garrett. He seems like a nice guy, but it’s hard to tell from one meeting. And you need to be aware that both he and Moss Garrett were at school with Claire Quick, my girlfriend. Annie Garrett, matriarch, showed us some cats. An unpleasant woman, but she seemed to care about the animals. Moss, however, well he’s always been a nasty piece of work. He bullied Claire at school, for example, until Merlin stopped him.’ He checked the notebook again. ‘Oh, yes, one further point, Moss Garrett carries a flick knife. Blade at least six inches long. So be vigilant when we bring him in.
‘Bill, what did you get from weekend surveillance?’
‘Not a great deal, really. As you know, sir, I had a feeling we were following the wrong person when we got the intel through from Doctor Pargeter about Nathan Solomon. We had an officer on Garrett for the whole weekend, but he didn’t stir further than one visit to the gym on Sunday evening. He entered the gym with an Adidas bag and left one hour later carrying a Puma bag. It looks like he’s still dealing with a Basil Willetts in the gym.’
Sam stood and pinned his profile photo of Baz Willetts on the wall, with his address and details below.
‘Thanks, Sam. I suggest phone surveillance for both him and Solomon if we can get a warrant, because they have made no physical attempt to see each other since Friday night, and the stuff was stolen from the university several days ago.’
‘I doubt that the gym handovers have anything to do with our MCat,’ said Bill Larcombe. ‘I reckon Garrett has a contact for steroids and that’s what he’s distributing via Baz Willetts.’
‘Hmm… you may be right, but you can’t make Mephedrone just from sulphuric acid and potassium, can you? Maybe Mr Willetts provides the rest of the recipe. Check that out, please, without alerting Willetts.’ He tapped his pen against his lips. ‘You know, it could be as simple as Solomon popping over to The Retreat once he’s made the drugs, and handing them over. How long would it take to brew up I wonder?’
‘Probably not more than a few hours,’ said Sally. ‘So is Solomon sitting on a new consignment awaiting instructions, or has he delivered it already?’
‘Right, let’s get a warrant to tap their phones, and,’ he glanced at the ceiling, ‘I’ll ask DCS Oliver very nicely if we can stretch the budget to some surveillance on the ground as well. Neil Pargeter can’t ignore the thefts from his lab, and he’s told the security team already. Why don’t I find out when they are going to confront Solomon, and see if we can’t be there to add to his troubles?’
Sally raised a hand. ‘Background on Solomon; age twenty-eight, only child, disabled mother. Immigrant family. Passed Chemistry degree with a third class pass. So virtually failed it, but the university kept him on as a lab technician.’ She looked up. ‘Out of charity, I think. His A levels were pretty good, he just fell apart at university.’ She rose and added his details to the board.
Dan checked his notebook. ‘Right, let’s go. Lizzie and Adam, tattoo parlour. Ben and Bill, warrants asap, track the magistrate down to a court recess if you have to, but try to get them for today or tomorrow. Paula, carry on tracking down the Kiwis. Sam, got your gym kit with you?’
Sam nodded. ‘Sir.’
‘Be on standby, as soon as Garrett goes for his morning gym visit, get down there and watch him.’ Dan rubbed his hands together. Action, at last.
‘I’ll have to join up if I go back,’ said Sam.
‘I’d like to think that you were as happy to make a few personal sacrifices like DC Singh in order to help nail these criminals?’ said Sally, eyes twinkling.
‘Sarge.’ Sam’s face burned.
‘I’ll contact Neil Pargeter and see what’s happening regarding Solomon,’ said Dan. ‘Thanks, all. Write up your reports, and if you need me, I’m the one drowning under a pile of paperwork.’
As soon as he got back to his office, Dan rang Neil Pargeter. ‘Morning, Neil. I was hoping to catch you before you got started for the day. What’s happening with Nathan Solomon?’
‘Dan, right. Morning. Good night last night with the lovely Claire, you lucky bugger. Well, it looks like Solomon has been thieving for weeks, possibly months. We’ll sack him if evidence can be found at his home, even though that’s going to be hard on him. But he didn’t just nick from our lab, he’s been in other buildings too, we think. Chemicals have been signed out with false names and stock ledgers altered all over the place. Security are searching more records as we speak.’
‘He’s a regular one-man crime wave, isn’t he? Inform your security team that Solomon is subject to an on-going investigation, and make sure they gather everything that could be evidence. I’ll send DS Sally Ellis over to collect any physical evidence and talk to the team.’
‘Great, thanks. Give us an hour or so to make sure we have everything we need. I need to search his locker but he’s around at the moment, so I’ll send him off-campus for something to free up a bit of time.’
‘Best not to do the search until you have a police presence. I’ll send Sally straight to you.’ He checked the time. ‘About ten?’
‘Excellent, thanks.’
‘And I’ll get there for the formal arrest later on. I don’t want him getting away or alerting our other suspect.’
‘Oh. Are you ready to arrest someone for the Ryan Carr death?’
Dan hesitated. ‘Getting there, but not there yet.’
‘In other words, mind your own business, Neil.’
‘Sorry, you know I can’t say more.’
‘Yup. No worries. See you later,’ Neil rang off.
Dan rested his head on his hands. Were they ready for an arrest? Solomon, sure, they had him on theft, and hopefully on making drugs for sale – that would ensure a custodial sentence. He had a feeling that Solomon might prefer that to being outside where Garrett could get at him.
But Garrett? So far, they had him on film from the previous Friday night, Sam had seen him passing over a bag to Baz Willetts at the gym and receiving money in return. And Sally had seen the bag change at The Retreat. But that could be simply steroids. He didn’t want the whole case messed up if all they could arrest Garrett for was dealing steroids. He’d get a fine and a suspended sentence. They had his bag from the botched surveillance, but Sam had stolen that from where it lay on the ground. It was full of evidence, but not admissible unless Garrett copped to it. And it had been Dan’s decision alone not to arrest Garrett that night. That played on his mind. Would it have been better to get him in custody and off the streets? He stood and leaned on the little windowsill to look out at a sky full of fast-moving white clouds and suck in fresh air. No, he told himself. Wait. He needed the manufacturer and the dealer. Plus no-one had died in the last week – that was a good sign that Garrett was closed down, wasn’t it?
If he took Solomon off the street, and arranged a little chat with Baz Willetts, maybe he could make Garrett squeak enough to come out into the open. He’d be desperate to get more drugs to sell, to support his own steroid habit, at the least. It would be good to close down that drugs trail.
But – what would Garrett be prepared do to keep the lucrative MCat market thriving? He hoped his waiting strategy wasn’t going to make it worse. A furious, desperate Moss wasn’t a calming thought.
Ben Bennett tapped on his door just after nine. ‘Boss, I have a warrant to search Solomon’s house.’ He placed a copy on Dan’s desk, and stood, hands clasped in front of his round stoma
ch.
‘And?’ asked Dan.
‘And Judge Simpkins won’t agree a search of The Retreat at the moment as we haven’t presented her with enough concrete evidence.’
‘We have a dead kid, another one damaged for life, we have some of the drugs in our possession and we have police officers’ reports. What does the woman want?’
Bennett raised both hands. ‘Calm down, boss, we’ll get it.’
Dan called in Sally Ellis and updated them both on Pargeter’s plan for catching Solomon red-handed that afternoon.
‘I think that will swing the judge,’ said Bennett. ‘I’ll have to wait until she’s out of session, though.’
‘Well, we can’t do two things at once,’ said Dan, ‘so I suppose it will do later. Thanks Ben.’
Bennett nodded and went back to his desk.
Sally watched his face carefully. ‘Am I missing something? You should be happy that we can arrest Solomon and isolate Garrett. We’re so close.’
‘No, I’m okay, Sal, really. I just need to know that we can get Garrett behind bars and keep him there, and I don’t think we have really got the security of evidence to do that.’
‘We’ll get it. The bastard deserves to go down.’
Dan smiled. Sally could always get to the point. ‘You get over to the university,’ he said, holding the door open. ‘I’ll go and see if Baz Willetts is the glorious chunk of manhood Sam thinks he is. We can have a nice little chat about how helping us with our inquiries may help him avoid a criminal record.’
32
Nathan Solomon wandered through the city centre. His feelings were mixed. Part of him was angry at Neil asking him to go into town to buy cakes to celebrate his birthday. He wasn’t his bloody servant, after all. But the rest of him was enjoying an hour away from work while still being paid. He popped into the Tesco Express on the High Street and loaded up his backpack with doughnuts and brownies. He added in a couple of cheesecake slices for him and his mum. They could have them after their dinner. He smirked at the till operator when he paid for them with Neil’s money.
He decided to take the long route back to the university and set off through Rougemont Gardens. It was windy in there, the trees swishing their vibrant leaves above his head. Solomon found a sheltered bench and sat down. It was always a weird place for him after what his mother had done there, but it was peaceful now.
He’d had three texts from Moss, and had avoided answering them. Now though he knew he had to talk or risk another beating. He rang and held the phone to his ear. With any luck Moss would be at the gym, not answer his phone, but would see that Nat had rung. Best result.
Garrett answered on the third ring. Solomon listened, his face white against the black of his hoodie. ‘I’ve got the stuff. Yeah, in my locker at work. But listen, Moss, it’s getting dangerous. That kid. He died–’ He slumped into the hard bench, holding the phone away from his head. It was as painful as actual punches to listen to Moss in a mood. ‘Yeah, alright, leave it out. Tonight. Alright, I’ll bring it over, but…’ He screwed up his face to stop the tears. ‘No, nothing… nothing wrong here, Moss.’ He slid the phone back into his pocket and hoisted the backpack.
Sweating despite the blustery wind, Solomon headed back to the University.
* * *
Lizzie Singh stood on the pavement outside Dave’s Tattorium and looked Adam Foster in the eye. ‘Let me do the talking. I still want him to finish the tatt even after he knows I’m police. Got it?’
‘Okay, Lizzie, keep your hair on,’ said Adam, but she could see the excitement in his eyes and hear it in his quickened breathing. ‘Look at this place. It’s like something out of a Tarantino movie.’
‘You have questioned people before, haven’t you?’ asked Lizzie, rolling her eyes. ‘Dave isn’t a suspect, Adam. He may be a witness, though, and I want him sweet and co-operative,’ she said. Had she been this hyped up just a few months ago? A small voice said - probably.
‘Let’s get on with it, then,’ said Adam, brushing his floppy fringe off his forehead.
The tattoo parlour was quiet at eleven on a Monday morning. Dave the tattooist was in the back room rolling a cigarette when the doorbell announced customers. He licked the edge of the roll-up with a thin, yellow tongue and smiled to see Lizzie. ‘Come back to have the rest done, have we?’ he asked, tucking the roll-up behind his ear.
Adam stared at Dave. The guy even had tattoos over his face and bald head. It gave him a menacing air at odds with his smiling face and obviously false, gleaming white teeth. Then he stared at the walls. They were covered in photographs of Dave’s artwork, going back many years. Jewel colours, twisting, snaking designs, filled every nook and wall except for the work area which was well-lit and spotless.
‘You brought a mate, Lizzie?’ asked Dave. ‘His first time, is it?’
Lizzie grinned. ‘It’s his first time in so many ways, Dave. No, today we’re here in our official capacity I’m afraid.’ She took out her warrant card and nudged Adam to do the same.
‘You’re fuzz?’ Dave said, shock making his voice squeak.
‘I know, don’t fit the profile of your average copper, do I?’ laughed Lizzie. ‘Don’t worry, you’re not in any trouble, I just need to ask you about this.’ She got the photograph of the partial flower from her bag and put it on the desk. ‘Did you do that work, Dave?’ she asked.
Dave rubbed his forehead with fingers and thumb. ‘Why d’you want to know?’
‘You do recognise it, don’t you, Mr Mercer?’ asked Adam.
Lizzie elbowed him. ‘We have an unexplained death and it would seem that the woman may have had her ankle tattooed here about, say, ten years ago?’
‘That’s a long time to go back. Blimey.’ Then understanding dawned. ‘It’s the Bog Bodies, isn’t it? Been watching that on the news.’ He clasped a hand to his mouth and laughed. ‘Well I never, I tatted a murder victim.’
‘It is one of yours,’ breathed Lizzie, ‘fantastic. What is it of?’
Dave made eye contact with her. ‘So I’m really not a suspect, then?’
‘No, course not, Dave. It’s just that if you did do the work, you could help us identify her. We were just lucky that she still had enough skin left for us to get a photo.’ Lizzie traced the outline of the design with her finger. ‘Looks like a flower.’
Dave traced the outline, taking in the shape and the small amount of colour left on the skin. He stared out of the window behind their heads and whistled through his teeth. ‘So she’s one of the Bog Bodies. Kiwi, I think she was. Nice lady if I’m on the right track.’
‘She is. Look, it was about ten years ago, is there any chance you have kept any records. Anything at all?’
She heard Adam catch his breath ready to speak and elbowed him again, sending him a warning with her eyes and a flick of her head. When would he learn to keep his mouth shut?
Dave rubbed three days’ beard growth, ran a hand over the fuzzy top of his bald head and disappeared into the back room. ‘If it’s the one I’m thinking of, it’s not one of my own designs. It was some sort of foreign, pinky-red spiky thing. I had to make up the ink shade special. Hmm… Back in a minute,’ he said.
He thundered down a set of stairs into what Lizzie assumed must be cellars. She could hear thumping and swearing below her feet.
Fifteen minutes later, Adam had gone quiet and was sitting back in the tattoo chair looking at the book of designs, contemplating which one he would get done first, and whether it would be better to move out of home before he did it.
Lizzie sent him over the road to a café to get three coffees and doughnuts. She figured Dave would need sustenance once he emerged. She sipped hers hot, and wolfed down the doughnut, licking her fingers to remove the sugar.
Adam got back in the chair to have his.
‘You’re looking quite at home in that chair,’ she said. ‘Calmed down a bit, have we?’
He looked sheepish. ‘Sorry. It’s just that we could break the
case, Lizzie. Here, now, we could get a name and be able to identify one of the Bog Bodies. That is pretty exciting, you’ve got to admit.’
‘Okay, I’ll give you that. It would be fantastic, Mister trainee DC, to get a win so quickly. It doesn’t always work like that though. And you have to learn when to keep quiet. Try to be a bit more sensitive to atmosphere. Dave and I have had four long, painful hours to get to know each other. He doesn’t know you from, well, from Adam,’ she said and giggled.
They heard a yelp and further pounding as Dave ran back up the stairs waving three ledgers. ‘Here we go.’ He laid them on the counter. ‘2004, 2005, 2006.’ He grinned in triumph. ‘Can’t believe I kept the buggers, but then my wife Maureen, God rest her soul, she made me keep ‘em for the tax. Not that anyone’s ever asked to see ‘em.’ He spotted the coffee and doughnut. ‘That for me?’
‘Certainly is, Dave, I’m keeping you sweet until you’ve finished my rose.’ She opened the book dated 2004/5 and saw Maureen’s meticulous handwriting showing dates, what each customer had had done, how much they paid each time, and a date when it was all finished and paid for. ‘No addresses?’ she said.
‘Nah, we took ‘em when a stranger came in, so there are some addresses in there, but mostly I just took a phone number. It’s not that kind of business, where I go nosing into everyone’s affairs, if you know what I mean.’
‘Yeah, got it. Can we take these with us?’ she asked.
‘Don’t see why not,’ said Dave through a mouthful of doughnut.
‘You are brilliant, Dave,’ she said. ‘If I wasn’t on duty, I’d give you a kiss. Can I book in for my day off next week to have the rest of my rose done?’
Death on Dartmoor Page 17
