'We have checked, Haines says she's seventeen and will be eighteen next month.' Stonor clearly wanted to end the conversation.
'And you and I both know that Watts is thirty-two. That makes him nearly old enough to be her father? And you don't think that's weird?' DC Angel wasn't letting it go.
'Well, maybe it's a bit off. But we're police, we don't get involved in people's relationships. He's done nothing wrong.'
'And don't you ever have people you can put on a black list? Keep an eye on them until they do something wrong?' She waited nervously for the response. She had kept the request from DPS at the back of her mind, but Stonor's attitude had spurred her to finally do something about it. Stonor on his part didn't respond, but instead he turned and looked at Angel with a quizzical look. 'What's that look for?'
'See, the thing is, we as a team, well we don't really know who you are?' Stonor was hesitant. 'You're fast track, you're dropped in here with your university degree and all that. Haven't spent years on the beat, fighting your way up through the system. We thought you were all straight-laced, not likely to bend to rules.'
'You do know me. I'm DC Emma Angel, age twenty-five, moved down here three years ago.' She tried to brush the comment off as a bit of a joke.
'Yeah, everyone knows that. But all your friends are job, your housemates all work shifts. You never come to the pub, we don't know what team you support, nothing like that.' Unspoken was the further question, how far will you bend the rules?
Angel was well aware that she found it hard to trust people and knew that she was self-contained to an extent that she came across as cold and remote. She remembered her instructions from DPS however and knew she had to fight her natural tendency and get under the skin of her team. 'You know what it's like. As you said, I'm on the fast track, I never have time to do anything. And, on your side, you've never invited me down the pub with the lads.'
Stonor frowned. DC Angel guessed that he wanted to say that they don't invite girls on a lads' night out but he couldn't. 'Okay then, next Friday, the Crown, we'll all be in there. It'll be football on the big screen.'
'Thank you. I'm sure I'll cope. I can drink pints with the best of them and stand my round as well.' She paused just long enough. 'Mind you, I'd rather watch rugby – it's a proper sport.'
DC Angel died a little inside. Somehow she was supposed to be one of the lads and drink beer down the pub while still being sensitive enough to get information from teenage girls. DPS were asking her to keep a big secret and spy on her team while at the same time acting like their friends and becoming one of them.
'Hmph. We can see about that.' There was another awkward pause. 'So you want to put the squeeze on Watts then? He got under your skin that much?'
'Oh, I wouldn't say that,' DC Angel said. 'But there is something wrong there and I think we ought to have a little poke around.'
DS Stonor actually seemed animated, the first time that DC Angel had seen him relax even a little. 'We can certainly mark his card. Keep an eye on him. For a start, did you see his house and car? And that BS about consultancy? Nah, the money's coming from somewhere else and we could try to find out where.'
'That would be a start. I can dig around in his background. If nothing else it's a bit odd that we've got someone killing teenage girls and a bloke in his thirties who has a teenage girlfriend.' She paused and thought for a second. 'We've already found a link between Watts and the second victim Evans. If I can find a link between him and Taylor, then we might be onto something.'
With that, she started the car and they drove back to the station.
Chapter Twenty-Four
For about ten seconds, Emma awoke and luxuriated in her bed. It was a day off and she didn't have to get up. Then reality crashed in on her. It wasn't quite a day off; it was a work event. Halfway between going to work and being social and worse than either.
She reviewed her options – Haines had made it clear that being on duty was the only excuse for non-attendance. And as she was new in the department, they had made sure she wasn't on rota, so she had to go. The event was a huge barbecue thrown by Haines' Aunt Bea. She had lived around Bradwick all her life and had family and connections across the whole area. Her previous occupation as a schoolteacher merely cemented her position as the spider in the middle of a web of gossip.
Emma was nervous on many levels. There was always the minefield of what to wear to the event. Her childhood had allowed her to develop her own unique style. She could tear through charity shops and find the right combination to look good. But a professional, yet casual engagement was out of her experience.
She knew she didn't want to go too short on her skirt length – she was determined to succeed in this job on her abilities and not invite a single suggestion that she had flirted and used her looks to get ahead. On the other hand if she turned up looking frumpy or in an outfit that in any way invited ridicule, she'd never hear the end of it.
In the end she chose a long flowing, slightly retro sundress. It had a swirling blue green pattern and more importantly fell to below the knee and had short sleeves – ideal whatever the day might bring. She paired it with a shawl and her favourite boots and sunglasses. She hoped she would fit in yet retain her own quirky style.
She understood why Eddie Mitchell had insisted on giving her and Osborne a lift when they arrived in the village of Highcliffe. Not only was Aunt Bea's driveway stuffed with cars, there were vehicles parked on the verge either side. If they'd done the usual trick of everyone driving one car, the entire village would have been gridlocked.
Seeing her arrive with two other police officers, Aunt Bea swooped in on her.
'You must be the new DC, Emma Angel.' She was tall, grey, and imposing. 'I told that nephew of mine, Robbie, that he should leave you in the office today. You've only just started in that department and now they've thrown you into the bear pit of one of my barbecues.' Emma warmed to her immediately. She realised that Bea kept talking, partly to steer her away from her department and also to make sure that she felt that she didn't have to say anything. She took the pack of beers that Emma had brought with her. 'I'm guessing you brought these because they're what you'd rather drink.' She put them into a cooler full of ice and water, and retrieved a bottle of the same brand, but cold. 'Here you go. Come and sit over here, with your back to the hedge so you can watch everything and decide when you want to join in.'
Soon Emma was installed at a table, and most of her team had followed her, setting up camp around a few tables with chairs.
She saw that there were three gas barbecues, with men attending to them, with a big cold box of raw meat on one side and plates of cooked meat leaving the other to a line of waiting people. Looking further around, she saw that the cottage had a long garden, leading down to what was obviously the edge of an old orchard.
Around the garden were maybe fifty or sixty people, some at the makeshift bar where several tables were covered with bottles and glasses and there were several cool boxes full of ice with bottles floating in them.
'Thank you so much,' Emma said. 'I was a little nervous but I didn't know there'd be this many people.'
'That nephew of mine! I suppose he told you that I was a schoolteacher before I retired. After educating the town for nearly forty years, I've got to know a few people.'
'Did I hear you say you were a schoolteacher?' Rob had wandered over, looking relaxed with a beer in his hand. 'She was the head teacher for years before she retired.' Emma could hear the pride in his voice.
Bea waved away his praise. 'Oh, they just did that because everyone else had a go before me. If you stay in the job long enough, they promote you.' Emma had a strong suspicion that this wasn't true.
Another woman came over to join them. She was tall and stately, with a tumble of dark hair that was just starting to grey at the temples. Emma noticed she had the confidence not to hide her age behind make-up and operations – she had crow's feet that were obviously from smiling often.
&n
bsp; 'Hi, I'm Jem,' she said, snaking her arm around Rob's waist and confirming that she was his wife. 'You must be Emma. I see Rob's chucked you in at the deep end then. Keep your eyes and ears open – anything worth knowing in the area will be discussed here! Miss Mathews is the most connected woman in Bradwick.'
'Bea! Call me Bea! Or I might reveal how long it is since you were in my classroom, Jemima,' Bea teased.
'You'll always be Miss Mathews to me,' Jem said. Emma could tell it was a running joke that had gone on for years. Jem turned to survey the garden and indicated an old man with neat grey hair and round glasses. 'There's Rob's old boss – Reg Patterson. What was he when he retired? Chief super? ACC?'
'ACC,' Rob answered. 'Some more of the old guard are here.'
'And it's not just police.' Jem leaned in as if she was sharing a secret. 'There's the editor of the local paper, taxi firm owners, politicians. Like I said, everyone's here.'
'And I must circulate,' Bea said. 'It's fairly straight forward here. The men are manning the barbecues.' Emma could see that Rob was being summoned back to his post. 'Next to them is a table with sauces, breads, salads, etc. And help yourself to drinks and don't feel you have to circulate before you're ready.'
Emma sat back with her beer. Whenever there was a quiet moment, two conversations went around her head. Lukas Mills and Michelle Jones. Having two entirely unconnected people raise similar concerns on the same day set off alarm bells in her head. Especially when those conversations only acted to confirm her suspicions.
She watched the scene in front of her. In one sense it was the ideal that everyone aspired to. Police, politicians, business owners, all living, working, and socialising in one town. Community policing at its finest.
But had it turned into something darker? Had it crossed the line between co-operation and collusion? Something triggered in her memory, something Jem had said. She saw her standing a short distance away so went over to the boss's wife.
'You said taxi firm owners earlier? Is the boss of King Kabs here?'
'Yeah, of course, Billy King, over there on the corner of the patio. That's his wife and one of his grown-up sons too.'
Emma looked where Jem indicated and saw a neat looking businessman. Smart jeans, yellow polo shirt, nothing out of the ordinary. Dark hair, side parted, just starting to thin. He was leaning back and telling a story, illustrating it by waving his beer bottle around. The woman next to him was more interesting. She was large, obviously tall, and dressed in an ethnic print dress. Her jewellery was similarly exotic, necklace, bangles, and earrings all large, silver and intricate. In keeping with everything else she had a mass of curly brown hair. She was beautiful and animated and totally focused on her husband.
Were they the drug dealers of Bradwick? Here, enjoying a beer in the sunshine?
'Why do you ask? Not still at work, are you?' Jem asked kindly.
'Oh, no. It's nothing. The name came up, and well, anyone who's ever been in a pub has seen their business cards and adverts. Just nice to put a name to a face.'
'That's what these events are for. Get people mingling.'
Later on, she watched Billy as he went over to get some more food. He stopped at Haines' barbecue and the two chatted for a minute. Ordering food or something else, Emma wondered. Just when she thought it was innocent, there was a brief moment when Haines reached out to King and she could see the two men were in sync. Even from a distance, she got the impression they were friends.
Maybe Lukas and Michelle were both right. But there was nothing she could do about it. She'd hardly go to Professional Standards and explain how Haines had given King, an innocent business owner, a burger in a suspicious manner. She shook her head and resolved to enjoy the rest of the day.
Whether or not she was going to formally investigate her team, she still had another job to do. With DS Stonor's words still fresh in her mind she decided to do her best to become a member of the team. She wasn't sure that the promised invitation to the pub would ever happen. But while she was waiting, she could meet wives and partners, fetch drinks, and generally prove that she really was a team player.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Tuesday evening was DCI Haines regular meeting with Billy King. But in the last few weeks King had called extra meetings, mostly to berate Haines for a lack of progress. Haines was tempted to cancel on King, just to let him know who was the boss. In addition, Haines now felt he should spend more time in the station, working with the MIT, generating new leads in the hunt for the killer.
But King had been insistent. So now they were meeting at an out of the way hotel just outside Bradwick. It was an old Victorian building perched on a cliff top but the bar was in a modern flat roofed extension. It being a Tuesday evening, the place was quiet and King and Haines were undisturbed in a corner. Behind them the sun was sinking into the sea, but neither man was watching the sunset.
For once, King was in a more upbeat mood. 'It turns out I was right, you know. It was a good move to leave my men in there undercover. You'll never guess what I've got here.' He tapped his finger on a folded square of paper on the table.
'It's good that you're happier. But I don't know how much time I'll be able to devote to it. I'm running an operation to take the pressure off you and we've got a second body turned up. Thought we had it all finished up and put to bed, then another one. Put us right back to the beginning.'
'I know, I saw it on the news. Don't know what the world is coming to, or Bradwick for that matter. Shocking.' He shook his head and left enough of a pause to show respect for the dead teenagers. 'But this is good news, this is. Gives you the upper hand. Buys us at least another week. It's the good stuff.'
'Go on then,' Haines said, not really caring about the information for a moment. 'Tell us what you've got.'
'This,' he slid the piece of paper across the table, 'is a list of mobile numbers for county lines. The ones that everyone uses to get their drugs.'
'What's the point though?' Haines argued. 'Those numbers will change every week. By the time the technical boys finish with them, they'll have binned the numbers and moved on.'
'Nah, you're not getting it. This is next week's list. These numbers haven't been activated yet. They're about to be sent out to towns up and down the coast. Including Bradwick.' He paused for effect. 'It's up to you how you play it. Could nick them the minute they set foot in the town. Or monitor them and let them do the deals, then nick 'em with the gear. It's up to you.'
Haines took the piece of paper and turned it over in his fingers. What could he do with this? On any other week, he'd convene a team, get regular updates from the technical department, make it happen. But he had a murder to solve. No, he had two murders to solve. And he was already running another drugs operation.
'I can certainly hand it over to the right teams. There's a squad in Bristol that specialise in county lines, all the way up and down the patch, across several counties, tens of towns. It really depends where these numbers ping up as well, whether they're in the city or sent out around the area.'
Haines stopped when he could tell King wasn't really listening. 'So, what do you reckon then?' King asked. 'It'll buy us some time won't it? Disrupt them for a bit.'
Haines simply nodded. What he needed more than anything was a big result. Ideally when he had both the murders wrapped up. He had a nagging feeling that, unless he was careful, King would have burned one of his undercover men. But he was also unwilling to burst his good mood. 'Yeah, no, this is good. No question about it.' He left a bit of pause, then asked, 'Have you any news yet about the big deal? Where or when it could happen?'
'Ah, yes, we have got something on that. Nothing concrete but my people have been able to figure out how the structure works. Apparently, some guy called Pietr Garoza is the head of the whole outfit. With a bit of luck, he'll be down here to co-ordinate the exchange of drugs and money when they have a big meeting.'
'Do you have any idea yet why he'd come down to Bradwick? It's a bit of
a risk for them, isn't it? I'd have expected him to summon the junior dealers up to the city.'
Billy King shook his head. 'Not heard anything yet. I can look into it though. You are right, if this Garoza guy is the head of a gang, then he should be calling the shots. Not leaving his turf but having people in to where his strength is. Next time we talk, I'll see if I can find out what he's up to. But I'll have to tell them to tread softly.'
'Thanks. I know it's a risk for you.'
King nodded slowly. Outside the window, the sun finally slipped below the lowering cloud and lit the horizon up with a bright band of gold. Neither man noticed it though as they finished their drinks, shook hands and left the meeting.
* * *
Haines sat back at his desk and looked at the list of phone numbers that he'd been handed. Even on a quiet week, he would have baulked at setting up an operation this big, especially when it could easily spread up and down the area, from Clevedon all the way down to Bridgewater and even out of area across to Minehead. And that didn't even count the inland towns that would be hit.
He chose a unit in Bristol that he would need co-operation from if the big raid on the Latvians ever came off.
'Terry, I might have something for you,' Haines said before launching into an explanation of the list of numbers.
Terry sucked air in through his teeth. 'How sure are you of this Rob? Is it cast iron?'
'Yeah, it is. It's not some green CI, it's a guy I've known for years.'
'No chance he's winding you up?'
'None at all. What's the problem? This is a golden opportunity.'
'Yeah, I know that. But we're all watching the budgets, aren't we? There are a dozen phone numbers here. Each one would have to be checked, passed over to the technical teams and a warrant applied for. At the very least, we'd need to know where each phone was being used, if not what messages were being sent.'
The Retirement Party Page 13
