Charley put her hands together on the table, as if in prayer. ‘His detention clock started when he arrived in the cells. You need to be made aware that Dixon has not admitted to the historical armed robbery offence at Manchester Road, which is our holding charge for him. He’s not going to be bailed, which is a good thing. Theoretically, we have enough evidence to charge him with the offence, but I’d like to know more about the murder of Faisal Hussain before I do, in an interview, if possible. I’m hoping Dixon might talk to us. Having said that, he has just witnessed his wife and partner-in-crime shot dead in front of him. That won’t, I suggest, encourage him to talk to us, and I daresay his brief from his solicitor will advise him to make no comment, but we’re used to that, and it won’t deter us from putting questions to him, and giving him the opportunity to reply. Admissions are always helpful, but as we know, not always necessary. We have a lot to do, so let’s get to it,’ she said as she gathered her notes in front of her, and rose from her seat. ‘Mike, Annie, can I see you in my office now, please, to talk about interview strategies, and,’ she turned to Ben and Terry from the cold-case team, ‘I want you two to interview him for the armed robberies.’ Charley raised her brows. ‘I bet Brad Dixon has never felt as popular. Will he enjoy all the attention, who knows?’
‘The drugs team and National Crime Agency have been given his details, so I imagine they will want to speak to him as well with regard to drug distribution at some stage,’ said Mike.
‘Of course, but we have priority, so let’s use the time we have with him wisely.’
* * *
Charley consulted her computer in her warm office. It was raining outside, heavily and noisily, and the sky was full of dark, thunderous clouds. The overhead light was on, and it lit up her office as if it was daylight. ‘I’ll be watching the interviews via a video link,’ she said to Mike and Annie. ‘I want to see first-hand what Dixon’s body language tells me. Both of you are tier five trained advisors, you know as well as I do that we can’t expect much from this interview, but it’ll go one of two ways: he’ll either throw his hands in the air and talk for England, knowing that he’s bang to rights, or, he’ll clam up like a shell and we won’t get as much as a peep out of him.’ Charley leaned towards them. ‘I’d particularly like to establish a link to confirm Dixon’s relationship with Raglan and Thomas. We already know that Brad Dixon was charged with burglary at Raglan’s Estate Agency some years ago, but surely that can’t be the only connection, can it?’
‘Maybe we’ll find their contact details on the Dixons’ mobile phones which have been seized?’ said Annie.
Charley crossed her fingers in front of them. ‘Let’s hope so.’
‘Have we any new information on Thomas’s financial situation and the money laundering?’ asked Mike.
Charley shook her head. ‘No, I’ve seen nothing as yet. However, for the interviews, just focus on getting relevant information that will help us find out who killed Faisal Hussain,’ she said. ‘I have a gut feeling that Raglan, Thomas, or one of the Dixons did.’
Walking at a brisk pace, the interviewing officers’ footsteps could be heard echoing in the otherwise empty corridor that lead to the interview suite, under the gaze of the CCTV cameras. Their faces were set and determined.
Dixon’s solicitor, Frank Maddock had arrived back at the police station, Charley had seen him pull up in the car park from her office window, at the rear of the police station. She was in the wrong job, she mused, as she admired his Audi Quattro.
Nursing her mug of coffee, Charley relaxed back in her chair, and put her feet up on her desk, her eyes flicking from the interview strategy notes she’d worked on with Annie and Mike, to glancing at the monitor ready for their arrival.
All was still and quiet in the interview room, empty of everything apart from a table and chairs that were screwed to the floor. It looked like something out of a scene in a soap opera, she thought. The SIO waited, and after a few moments she put down the file, unable to concentrate on the written word. Suddenly the heavy door opened. Annie entered, followed by Dixon in prisoner’s overalls, his solicitor, and lastly, DS Mike Blake, who closed the door behind them. Dixon was facing Mike, and the suspect was sat in the perfect chair for Charley to watch his every move. He looked pale, unsure of himself, even nervous, until he looked up at the camera, where he knew someone would be watching. A satisfied gleam appeared in his eyes. The shock of seeing it hit her, and she had the strongest urge to slap his smarmy face.
Mr Maddock, a local solicitor, was a thin, bald man, dressed in a crew neck grey jumper under his dark suit. His hair was flattened to his head, and he carried a mac over his arm and an umbrella in his hand. In his other hand he held a briefcase. He sat alongside his client, opposite Annie. Calmly and professionally, Mike, after the necessary introductions for recording purposes, outlined the circumstances surrounding the discovery of the body of Faisal Hussain at Crownest, following the recent Dixons’ residence there.
‘No comment,’ Dixon replied repeatedly to Mike’s questions, even though at this early interview stage, the detective sergeant was only asking the prisoner about his lifestyle. This didn’t bode well for the controversial questions to come later.
Dixon’s responses to Annie’s questions were also negative, consistent, and predictable, but Charley was pleased to see that the interviewing officers weren’t intimidated by Dixon, or by his demeanour. In fact it appeared to her that with every question put to Dixon, they managed to secure a positive, rhythmic interviewing technique and were comfortable with the agreed strategic approach.
* * *
‘Early days,’ Charley assured them when they came out of the interview.
‘Let’s face it we didn’t really expect him to roll over, did we?’
Charley was upbeat. ‘Wait until we get around to disclosing the recovery of the gun that was taped under his motorhome’s bonnet,’ she enthused. ‘We haven’t disclosed yet that we have found his fingerprints all over the duct tape used either, which connects him nicely to the weapon. Remember, we are still waiting for DNA results and a response from Ballistics. Once that’s dropped on his toes, I’d expect a much different response from him.’
Charley felt an ache in her stomach as she left for home late that night. She wanted the results that were outstanding to come in so badly. If they didn’t arrive the next day, then she would have no choice but to let Ben and Terry interview Dixon for the historical robberies, and charge him with the ones that they could prove. That would enable her to put Dixon before the courts for a three-day lie down in the police cells, which would enable the necessary interviews for the murder of Faisal Hussain to take place. By then she was hopeful that the results they were eagerly awaiting would be in.
There could be an advantage to this strategy, Charley thought, as she drove along the dark, wet roads that led over the Marsden moors, because by the time Dixon had been charged to appear before the courts for the robberies and could see the evidence stacking against him, he might accept his fate, roll over, and tell her officers about his relationship with Raglan and Thomas. Also, the National Crime Agency would be snapping at his heels by this time due to his alleged drug dealing. The seized mobile phones would ultimately assist in tying all the information together, but time was of the essence for Charley.
* * *
With no results forthcoming, thirty-six hours later, Brad Dixon was placed before the Court, charged with armed robbery. The prosecution told the Magistrates that this was merely a holding charge, as he was under arrest for more serious crimes. He was duly remanded to police cells for a further thirty-six hours. Time was now pressing and Charley and her team began to feel the pressure.
The morning after Dixon was in court, they received the call they had all been waiting for from the ballistics expert. It confirmed, without doubt, that the Baikal semi-automatic weapon recovered from beneath the bonnet of the motorhome, was the murder weapon used to kill Faisal Hussain. This added enormous w
eight to the evidence mounting against Dixon. Only Brad Dixon’s fingerprints were found on the tape used to secure the gun beneath the bonnet of the vehicle. A further bonus was a later call from Forensics who had identified Dixon’s DNA on the weapon.
‘Thank you Eira,’ Charley said as she took the call. ‘I owe you a drink when this is all over.’
Charley bounced out of her office, on a high. ‘It’s not often we get that much evidence at a crime scene,’ she said, taking a large ginger cookie out of the tin and munching it. She looked around. There was someone missing. ‘Where’s Ricky-Lee?’ she asked.
‘Day off,’ said Tattie. ‘Are they okay? I made some of those for Tim…’
‘Mmm… delicious,’ she replied. ‘Who approved that leave then?’
‘DS Blake,’ said Tattie. ‘Do you really think they’re okay? I wondered if I’d put a tad too much ginger in them.’
Annie opened her desk. Her eyes were downcast. ‘I think you need to know something, boss,’ she said, handing Charley a newspaper, marked up for racing day.
Charley put her head in her hands, ‘Where did you find it?’
‘In the office bin, by the door,’ Annie said, glumly.
Wilkie shook his head. ‘No, it can’t be his. He’s stopped, he swore to me it was finished! He wouldn’t lie to me.’
‘I hope not,’ Charley snapped. ‘For his sake, and ours.’ The SIO tried to smile, but it didn’t reach her eyes. ‘Let’s not jump to conclusions; we’re having a positive day, so let’s keep it that way.’
Charley got up, walked back to her office and slammed the door.
‘Ouch,’ said Annie.
Charley took two steps inside before she turned and flung her door open again. ‘Find out if there is anyone else’s DNA on the gun, will you, and if so, do they know whose it is? I can’t understand why Dixon didn’t get rid of it after the murder, and why, if it is his weapon, he didn’t have it with him that day we arrested him. Brittany was armed.’
‘Him saying Brittany killed Faisal would be the easy option under the circumstances,’ suggested Mike.
‘He’d be there with her though,’ added Annie, ‘and would he really grass on his dead wife?’
‘Of course, he would! However, he’s dead in the water whatever he says, isn’t he?’ said Wilkie.
Charley turned to Mike. ‘Did you give Ricky-Lee the day off?’
Mike nodded. ‘He said it was either that or his love life was history.’
‘Well, let’s hope she’s allergic to horses! In the meantime, I want you to ensure we are crossing all the Ts and dotting the Is on this case,’ snapped Charley as she marched back into her office.
* * *
It was Dixon’s final day in the police cells, before going back to court to be remanded to prison until his trial. Charley stood at Mike’s desk.
‘Let’s interview him one last time and give him a final opportunity to speak to us,’ she said.
‘I think you’re flogging a dead horse meself,’ said Wilkie.
‘That’s what Ricky-Lee’s been doing, not us. We’ve nothing to lose and everything to gain. We’ll give Dixon one last chance.’
‘That’s one determined lady,’ said Wilkie, in her wake.
Chapter 37
Having made the required evidence disclosures to Dixon’s solicitor, Frank Maddock, and given him time to discuss them with his client, the CID team were now ready for the next interview. Dixon’s solicitor looked pale and tired. Four days of toing and froing to the police station at all times of day and night, in the rain, wind and cold, had obviously been draining for the older man. Although he knew his client was involved, he was unsure as to what extent, based on the little Dixon had confided in him.
Mike made a start by outlining the background of the discovery of the body during the demolition.
‘Brad, we know you and your wife rented Crownest for a while from Raglan’s Estate Agents. They tell us that the cheques you signed in payment, bounced, is that correct?’
Charley watching on the monitor in her office was interested to see Dixon lift his eyes to look at Mike.
Mike’s reaction to seeing the corners of Dixon’s lips turn upwards into a smile was quick. ‘You’re smiling. So, is it true?’
Frank Maddock dropped his pen, and as he picked it up, he looked up towards his client, his expression one of surprise at his interaction with the detective sergeant.
‘Do I look like someone who uses a cheque book?’ Dixon sniggered.
‘Mr Raglan also says that you were warned of imminent eviction, but you left without settling the debt? Is that true?’ asked Mike, eager not to lose the connection he’d made.
It appeared that once Dixon had started sniggering he could not stop.
‘You’re obviously finding something amusing. Is there something that you want to share with us?’
‘No,’ he said. Eyes down, Dixon brushed his thighs with the palms of his hands on his prisoner’s suit. He slowly shook his head.
‘Mr Raglan is talking to us, he’s telling us his story, so if that’s not correct, then tell us. I mean, in your younger days you did burgle his offices, so he’s not exactly going to do you any favours, is he?’
Dixon’s dark, steely eyes stared across at Mike. Was the suspect trying to weigh Mike up or intimidate him, Charley wondered from her vantage point as an observer. If it was the latter, it wouldn’t work.
‘If Brittany was here, I’m sure she’d be telling you to sort it,’ Mike suggested sensitively. ‘You know she would.’
Dixon’s face twisted, angrily. ‘Well, she isn’t! You lot fucking made sure of that. You killed her.’ For a moment the officer and suspect shared an uneasy glance.
‘Brittany did shoot first, Brad,’ Mike continued. Charley leant forward to watch the footage carefully. Was that a tear that the prisoner brushed away, at the mention of his wife’s name? Could that be the way to break him?
Dixon raised a shoulder and dropped it just as quickly. With eyes downcast, he twiddled his bony hands in his lap.
‘I’m sorry for Brittany, but she was always going to go out in a blaze of glory, wasn’t she? A shoot-out with the police. Let’s face it, she’d have loved that, wouldn’t she?’
Mike stopped talking to allow Dixon to take in what he had said. When Brad didn’t react, he continued. ‘You knew her better than anyone. What happened could have happened on more than one occasion over the last few years, what with you two being so active. How long had you known about the secret passageway between the house and the church?’
A deep frown appeared on Dixon’s brow.
‘You do know about it, don’t you?’
Dixon’s silence, and his expression, suggested to Charley that perhaps he wasn’t aware of the tunnel, and that puzzled her, as how else would Hussain’s body have been dumped there? Or was this what Dixon wanted them to believe?
‘Look, I understand Faisal Hussain came to Crownest to sort things out, perhaps looking for revenge for his uncle’s death from heart failure sometime after your robbery of his shop. Mr Hussain’s body was found at Crownest having been shot in the head with your gun – the Baikal pistol which we found concealed under the bonnet of your mobile home. We know it’s your gun because your DNA and prints are all over it. We are also aware that you have discharged this weapon at previous robberies that you are known to have committed. Everything points to you as the killer of Mr Hussain. To emphasise again, as your solicitor has already informed you, your gun’s specifications are a ballistic match for Faisal Hussain’s execution. We are here to give you the opportunity to speak to us, to explain why that was necessary.’
Dixon remained silent. With cold, hard eyes, he glared at Mike again, and his fists clenched, while the tightening of his facial muscles showed a rhythmic twitch in his jaw.
‘Obviously you don’t want to talk to us, so let’s terminate the interview, and save everyone’s time,’ Mike barked, looking across at Annie. She nodded agreeme
nt and stood; she had remained silent throughout to allow the rapport developing between the men to continue.
Once they had stopped the recording device, Annie and Mike left the interview room quickly, but Mr Maddock and Brad Dixon remained. The detectives had only been back in the Incident Room for a short time when the office phone rang.
Mike was still shuffling into his suit jacket when he came to Charley’s door. ‘Boss, according to his solicitor, Dixon states he wants to speak to us,’ he said, a broad smile on his face.
‘Go for it, let’s hear what he has to say.’
‘Déjà vu,’ Mike said, watching Annie close the door of the interview room behind her as she slid into the seat opposite Dixon’s solicitor. Frustrating as it was, the necessary procedures of starting the camera and stating who was present had to be followed before the interview could start.
‘Now, what was it you wanted to say to us?’ Mike asked.
Dixon was slumped in his chair, elbow on the desk, fist to his cheek. ‘I didn’t kill him,’ he mumbled, ‘Neither did Britt.’
There was a long pause. Dixon sat back in his chair, and sighed heavily. His eyes lifted and found Mike’s face. Charley watched Mike and Annie wait patiently, using silence in the hope that Brad Dixon would continue. In the SIO’s head she counted the beats, the extra silent seconds that might make the difference to Dixon continuing or not.
‘I admit it was my gun, okay,’ he said eventually, ‘but it wasn’t me who killed him.’
Mike spoke with some finality in his voice. ‘I’m sorry, if that’s all you’ve got to say, it’s not enough. You need to tell us who else was there, and explain what happened if you want us to believe what you are now telling us is the truth, because the evidence we have already disclosed to you suggests otherwise.’
Condemned Page 25
