Death on Dartmoor

by Bernie Steadman

  ‘You’ll have an interesting scar,’ said Lizzie, eyeing the bandage around Adam’s neck. ‘Very Pirates of the Caribbean. And I like the sexy croak.’

  Adam smiled at her, gratefully.

  ‘Okay, we’ll let you sleep,’ said Dan. ‘Has your family been in yet? I rang your mum as soon as I could.’

  Adam bit the corner of his lip, ‘She didn’t stay long. She’s not happy.’

  Dan ushered women out and onto the main hospital corridor. ‘I know she’s not happy,’ he muttered, ‘I made the call.’

  ‘Don’t, I already feel guilty for letting him anywhere near the action,’ said Sally. ‘Let’s see what tomorrow brings. At least he can talk, even if he sounds a bit rough.’

  ‘No need to feel guilty, sarge. We all know what we sign up for,’ said Lizzie, holding the front door of A & E open and letting in the milder night air, ‘comes with the warrant card.’

  * * *

  The custody desk was quiet when Dan checked in. Colin White was duty sergeant.

  ‘Evening, sir. Got Annie Garrett booked in to her luxury accommodation for the night. I gather Moss Garrett won’t be with us for some time?’

  ‘That’s right, Colin. Did she go quietly?’

  ‘Not exactly. But don’t worry, we’ve got it all videoed, and we stuck like glue to PACE, so she hasn’t got anything to complain about. Not that that will stop her, of course.’

  ‘She’s going to give us all kinds of problems until we get her charged and moved on. Let’s just hope she doesn’t get bail.’ Dan took the stairs up to the incident room two at a time, eager to do the debrief and get home.

  DCS Oliver was sitting at the table nursing a drink. Around the room his little team were gathering. He was desperate to collapse, and glad Oliver was to lead the debrief. She was his boss, after all, and she’d been great out in the field. He still didn’t get why people went into senior management when they so clearly missed getting their hands dirty. The pension, he supposed.

  Oliver had changed into jogging trousers, a sweatshirt and trainers. She still looked good, he thought, as she turned and gave him the benefit of a half-smile. ‘Good work Dan,’ she said. ‘Messy, but a good result, nonetheless.’

  ‘Thanks, ma’am,’ he said. He waved an arm around the room. ‘Couldn’t have done it without the team, and DS Lake and his lads as well.’

  Oliver nodded. ‘Okay, let’s do this and go home to bed.’

  42

  Dan’s sleep that night was full of dreams that woke him up without explaining themselves, and left him staring into the darkness with a feeling that he had lost something or someone important. In the end, he watched the clock until it showed eight am. That meant he had been in bed for seven hours, even if he hadn’t slept for most of it. He stood under the shower until he felt more human, and forced himself to eat toast and drink a mug of instant coffee. He didn’t want to play with his nice coffee machine this morning. His head felt tight, a headache waiting to pounce. Carefully, he chose a white shirt, black tie and his dark blue suit, then polished his black brogues until they shone. Outside his kitchen window, a brilliant blue sky mocked him.

  It was Ryan Carr’s funeral at ten o’clock.

  He should have been jubilant at solving the case and arresting the guilty, but he just felt empty. The loss of Ryan Carr’s life, the permanent damage sustained by Lee Bateson, the casual cruelty of the Garretts’ treatment of Nathan Solomon made him sick to the stomach. Annie Garrett, blaming Solomon for her own mistakes. Not a moment of remorse from either of them. And they would have carried on if he hadn’t stopped them. He took two paracetamol and swallowed them down with a pint of water to stop the headache before it got going.

  He would ring the Batesons and the Carrs in a minute. He knew it would make a difference to them to bury Ryan knowing that his killers had been caught. Even if it couldn’t bring him back.

  In a moment of clarity, as he stared out of the window at a hazy sun and listened to the seagulls screaming over the canal, Dan understood why he was feeling so angry. It was something Oliver had said, about a similar case in Manchester. Even the CPS had agreed to go for manslaughter, but the judge had thrown it out. The guilty gang got eight years, out in four. Four years for the suffering they had inflicted. It wasn’t right. Not right. At least they could do Annie and Moss Garrett for GBH as well as all the other charges. That had to get them a bit longer behind bars, surely?

  He brushed his teeth, unplugged his phone from the charger, and rang the dead boy’s mother.

  * * *

  Dan drove into the crematorium twenty minutes before the service was due to start. First to approach him was Gary Bateson, constricted in a suit jacket that may once have fitted him. He shook Dan’s hand and thanked him for all he had done for them. Dan didn’t remind him that it was his interference that had put the arrest back a week. Kelly Bateson stood near the door with Lee, both of them looking tearful.

  He spotted the Carrs arriving with the hearse. Darren Carr approached him next. He didn’t attempt to shake Dan’s hand.

  ‘Sorry, mate, I mean Inspector, for, you know, all that mess. We should have left you to it. I was just dead angry.’ He stood there, in his cheap suit, looking shattered, with a purple and yellow bruise distorting the side of his face.

  ‘Don’t worry about it, Darren. It’s sorted now. Why don’t you go and look after your mum? She needs you today.’ He watched Carr take his mother’s arm and walk her away from the hearse and towards the wreaths and flowers that surrounded the doorway. There were dozens of tributes, one from the Batesons with Ryan’s name picked out in the shape of a football in Exeter City’s colours. It was unbearably sad to watch Ryan’s friends and teachers arrive and make their way into the sparsely decorated room. Many of the youngsters were attending their first ever funeral.

  Darren Carr, Gary Bateson, and two other men loaded the body of Ryan Carr onto their shoulders and walked him into his cremation. Lena Carr’s wail as she saw the coffin placed onto the plinth hurt to hear.

  He was relieved when Sally and Lizzie arrived a couple of minutes late, to squeeze in next to him at the rear of the packed room.

  After the short service they walked quickly back to their vehicles. Dan deftly sidestepped a local reporter, locked himself in to his car and drove into the city. He had to kick start himself somehow. There was all the paperwork associated with the Carr case, and then he had to focus on Bog Bodies. Yesterday, which now seemed like a very long time ago, Ben Bennett had hinted that they had a new lead on the movements of Brian and Ailish Stewart, and they should have heard back from New Zealand by now. He drove slowly, taking deep breaths and sloughing off the terrible sadness of the funeral. You learn to be hard in this job, he thought. Maybe I’m just not hard enough.

  * * *

  Dan parked half on and half off the drive in a position he was coming to accept was the best he was going to get at Exeter Road. The tyres squelched into soft grass and would leave muddy imprints when he drove away, but at least he was close to the back door of the building. Dan resisted the temptation to go to the cells and look at Annie Garrett. He was fascinated and repulsed by her, and not at all surprised that she and Moss were in it together.

  The incident room was quiet with the busy hum of computers and people at work. He wandered over to the coffee machine, looked at dregs in the bottom of the pot, and started again. By the time Lizzie and Sally arrived, carrying Waitrose bags, he had a fresh mug in front of him. Sally appeared to be adding to the growing epidemic of late-onset diabetes in the UK by providing yet more doughnuts, but he had one anyway, and kept his opinions to himself. He couldn’t help noticing that his sergeant was spreading round the middle at quite a rate. In a moment of rare insight, he thought that she might possibly be pregnant again, which made him feel a bit sick. His unit ran well because of his three sergeants, and he didn’t want her off on maternity leave. And worse, what if he was wrong, and she was just demonstrating the power of doughnuts
? Now that could be dangerous territory to explore. He decided to keep his thoughts to himself.

  Julie Oliver stuck her head around the door, said, ‘Aha, you’re all back,’ and found herself a seat. She was back in her uniform but looked tired. Mind you, so did everybody.

  Dan rounded up the others after their late start. They’d stopped the debrief at just before midnight the night before, all of them too wired and tired to make much sense. He looked at the whiteboards, covered now in intel, photos and the other minutiae of an investigation. Well, at least Ben could clear one of those boards soon.

  ‘How did the funeral go?’ asked Bill Larcombe.

  ‘It went as well as these things can go,’ he replied.

  Sally said, ‘I know it’s a cliché, but you shouldn’t have to bury your own children. It was just so sad, and his mother was distraught.’

  ‘At least we have the perps in custody, and we didn’t lose any more kids,’ said Oliver, ‘and I guess that’s the best outcome we could get.’

  ‘Hmm…’ Sally used the tip of her pen to scratch at her scalp. ‘The takedown was sloppy, though. Annie Garrett should never have been able to get her hands on that acid.’

  ‘I hear what you’re saying,’ Dan said, ‘but the real emergency at that point was Moss outside holding the knife against Adam’s throat. It took everyone out of the kitchen except DC Lines, and he didn’t anticipate having his head cracked against the door. Those few seconds were all she needed to get to Solomon.’

  ‘Yeah, I hear you, but if Adam Foster had stayed where he was, instead of trying to play superhero, there would have been two officers in the room, and Nathan Solomon may still have had his face and fingers.’

  Dan couldn’t argue. As usual, Sally had hit the nail right on its head. It was why he hadn’t slept well. The guilt always waited there for him. ‘I–’

  Oliver interrupted. ‘There were mistakes made, and I’m sure you’ll get them written up and analysed in your reports. But,’ she said, ‘I have come to say that if you like, DI Hellier, I will supervise the collation of the Ryan Carr paperwork, which will enable you to focus on interviewing the Garretts, wrap up the case and get back to Bog Bodies.’

  ‘Really? You’d do that for us?’ Dan closed his open mouth.

  ‘I would.’ She smiled at him, teeth white in red lips. ‘I want this one to stand up in court and I don’t want you too stretched to do a good job.’ She cast her eyes around the table. ‘We had a good result, despite some problems. You’re a good team, and it would be a better use of your time, DI Hellier, to be sorting out who killed our Boggies.’

  She stood up, swept her hands over her impeccable hair, straightened her skirt and headed for the door. ‘I’ll expect reports and everything else you have to be on my desk before you go off anywhere. Sergeant Larcombe will be my link if you need me, otherwise I’ll be in my office, preparing the case for the CPS.’ She did a little head nod, turned on her heel and walked back to her office.

  Ben Bennett gave a low whistle, ‘I don’t know what you’ve done, boss, but that woman has just saved you shedloads of work. And why can’t I be her liaison? Why you, Bill? It’s just not fair.’ He folded his arms over his ample stomach and huffed.

  She’d given him his whole weekend back, not to mention weeks of preparation leading up to the court case. He grinned at the look of incomprehension on Sally’s face. ‘Whatever it was I did, I must write it down in case I ever need to use it again,’ he said.

  43

  Dan waited until the merriment died down. ‘Right, you lot, let’s focus on Bog Bodies for a while. We’ll sort out where we’re up to, then get your reports on Ryan Carr written for the DCS and pass them on via Bill, her personal slave. So, who’s first?’

  Larcombe grunted to his feet, stood in front of the whiteboard and grinned at the assembled officers. He waved a piece of paper at them. ‘Guess what I’ve got?’ he said.

  ‘Is it Christmas already?’ asked Sally.

  ‘No, O sarky one,’ Bill said. ‘On here I have the driving licence information for one Brian Stewart, and his address in Bristol. I got onto a mate in Fishponds and asked him to check out the address. Ropy old place by the sound of it. Anyway, one of the neighbours knew the Stewarts and said they left in 1998 to move to Devon, where they… wait for it… were going to start an animal rescue centre.’

  He leaned back against the wall and stuck out one arm, pinning the sheet of paper to the whiteboard covered in intel on the Ryan Carr case, and then stretched out his other arm to make the physical link with the Bog Bodies board. ‘Too big a coincidence? I don’t think so.’ Grinning, he sat himself back down, earning a dig in the ribs from Bennett.

  ‘What? Really?’ Sally chewed the end of her pen and stared at the boards, shaking her head slowly from side to side. ‘There could be fifteen rescue centres in Devon. Why this one?’ she said.

  ‘But it’s possible, isn’t it, Sal? it’s possible. Brian Stewart was living close enough to Topsham to provide the dead animals for the taxidermist.’

  ‘It’s a bit weird looking after animals in need, then selling some of them to get stuffed,’ said Lizzie.

  ‘Perhaps he saw it as a better end for animals he couldn’t save?’ said Sally.

  Dan scrubbed his face with his hands. He could feel the excitement and confusion round the table. ‘How?’ he said. ‘How the hell can this cold case be mixed up with the Garretts? I don’t get it…’ He got up and paced the gap between table and wall, followed by six pairs of eyes. ‘What have we missed? We have to have missed something.’ He had to be sure, very sure of this connection, if he didn’t want to look a total fool.

  ‘To be honest, boss,’ said Ben Bennett, ‘we haven’t had long enough to make any proper connections, never mind missing other evidence that might prove or disprove a link. We were only looking for evidence of drugs at the Garretts. There could be loads of evidence pertinent to our other investigation waiting there for us to find. We just haven’t had the time.’

  ‘Okay, thanks Ben. You’re right, of course.’ He laughed. ‘If this is a correct assumption, then this world just gets weirder. So, let’s test the hypothesis. Bill, Paula, find me the lease, or mortgage details on The Retreat. When did Annie Garrett take over?

  ‘The rest of you, finish your reports on the Carr case pronto and get back over to The Retreat and pull the place apart. There must be paperwork, or something there that connects the Stewarts to The Retreat. Sal, get the team together and go and find it. Oh,’ he said to their retreating backs, ‘remember that Merlin Garrett is still there looking after the animals, and don’t get in the way of the forensic team. Ben, I want a twenty-four hour rota on him until we’re finished. I don’t want him destroying anything incriminating to protect his family.’

  Dan turned to look at the whiteboards. Could it be that simple? That Annie Garrett and her sons murdered the Stewarts and took their place in The Retreat? He wouldn’t put it past them, and he wondered again where the heads and hands were buried. But why? What would have made them do it? And was Merlin laughing at them behind his red beard because he was part of that murder?

  He banged up the stairs and waited impatiently while Stella buzzed him through. When he got into DCS Oliver’s office she looked harassed. ‘This had better be good,’ she said as she waved him into a chair. ‘Got press up my backside squeaking for a story and the ACC complaining about the cost of last night’s bit of excitement, and I still haven’t got a bloody shortlist.’

  Dan smiled and sat down. ‘I’ll be quick, I promise. First off, I want to thank you properly for taking the paperwork off us. I really appreciate it.’

  ‘Don’t flatter yourself too much, Dan. I really mean it that you’re too stretched, and I don’t want it to be our fault the case gets thrown out of court on a technicality. You should have the support of a DCI. I’ll get Stella on it, don’t you worry. She loves all that report collating stuff. So, what do you need today?’

  He sat forward
in his chair, thoughts still not quite formulated. ‘I’m not really sure how to begin, but information has come to light that makes me think there is a link between the Bog Bodies murders and The Retreat.’

  Oliver stared at him over the top of her reading glasses.

  ‘I know it sounds bonkers but we know the Stewarts left Bristol around 1998 to set up an animal rescue centre in Devon. And we know that the Garretts have run an animal rescue centre since 2006.’

  ‘And we know that the Bog Bodies have been buried for between seven and ten years,’ Oliver added, a smile replacing her frown. She rested her chin on her hands. ‘Really? The Garretts killed the Stewarts and just, what, moved in?’

  ‘Well, at the moment we don’t even know if it’s the same rescue centre, but it does seem likely,’ he grinned. ‘That’ll be a scoop for the press. They’re going to love us, for a change.’

  ‘Blimey, I need to keep this revelation quiet for a bit, don’t I?’ asked Oliver, biting down on the chewed arm of her glasses. ‘What are you going to do now?’

  ‘I’ve got Bill Larcombe and Paula Tippett chasing up leases, rental agreements, mortgages, etcetera, so we can see what happened in 2006 and whether it was a legal handover. I can’t see it being legit if the Garretts are involved. Everyone else, plus as many uniforms and PCSOs as we can steal from shift are going over to The Retreat to tear it apart.’

  ‘Okay, hold on a minute,’ said Oliver. ‘There are vulnerable animals in that place. You need to be careful.’

  ‘I know, ma’am, we’ll be careful. Also, I’m not so sure that Merlin Garrett is as clean as he pretends, either, so I’ve got him shadowed twenty-four-seven until we’re finished.’