by John Dean
‘Which bit?’ asked Blizzard.
‘The field where those prisoners are buried.’
‘Are you sure?’ asked Blizzard.
‘Yeah. Definitely.’
‘Why would he want to do that?’ asked the sergeant.
‘Said he didn’t want to see the bodies covered in houses. Said it weren’t respectful.’
‘How did he know about the housing plan?’
‘Henderson made no secret of it. There’d been quite a few blokes in suits looking round the place.’
‘And what did Ramage say when Knoefler told him this?’ asked Blizzard.
‘I don’t fair know but he didn’t sound very pleased. Said he could get more money from housing. Then Henderson, he sees me, and runs after me. He shouts at me, like. Trying to find out what I had heard. I said I never heard owt. He said I must never tell anyone like.’
‘And you didn’t?’ asked Colley.
‘Na.’
‘Not even me,’ said Robin Harvey, shaking his head at the thought of what had been happening on his farm without his knowledge.
‘Why not?’ asked Colley, looking hard at Hoare.
‘Henderson said he would kill me if I did.’ The fear was back in the farmhand’s eyes. ‘You don’t argue with him.’
‘No, indeed,’ said Blizzard. ‘So, what happened next?’
‘I got out of there, went back to the barn, tried to forget it ever happened.’
‘And,’ asked Blizzard, an edge to his voice, ‘did you see Horst Knoefler leave the farm, Mr Hoare?’
The farmhand hesitated.
‘Mr Hoare,’ said Blizzard sharply. ‘Answer the question.’
‘Na,’ said the farmhand at last. ‘Na, I didn’t.’
‘Thank you,’ said Blizzard softly.
‘There’s one more thing,’ said Hoare suddenly.
‘More?’ asked Blizzard.
‘Yeah,’ said the farmhand. ‘There were rows.’
‘Between whom?’ asked Blizzard.
‘Old man Ramage and Henderson. Terrible rows, they were. One time, when they were standing in the barn arguing, Henderson hits him, busted his lip. Sent him flying, it did.’ He shook his head. ‘Nasty business it was, seeing father and son at each other like that.’
‘What were the rows about?’ asked Colley.
‘His father didn’t want to sell the land,’ said Hoare, speaking rapidly, ‘but Henderson said they could get a lot of money. The old man, he said no, said the farm had been in his family for a long time and it were going to stay there. Said the Ramages were farmers and that was that. When he found out that Henderson had been inviting folks to look at the land behind his back, he was furious.’
‘And that is when Henderson hit his father?’ asked Colley.
‘Yeah.’ Hoare nodded, adding after a pause to collect his thoughts. ‘Then, after it happened, Willy jumps up and shouts that Henderson would only sell the land over his dead body.’
‘Are you sure that’s what he said?’ asked Blizzard sharply.
‘Yeah. Yeah, that’s what he said. More shouted it, like. He was livid. I’d not seen the old fella that angry before.’
‘Then what did he do?’
‘Stormed off without saying owt. When Henderson saw me, he said he’d kill me if I spoke about it. He wasn’t messing, neither. Then his father gets shot…’ The farmhand allowed himself a strange kind of smile, his teeth yellowed and crooked. ‘You work it out, Mr Blizzard.’
‘Jesus,’ said Blizzard. ‘You know what you’re saying, Dennis?’
‘Don’t I just,’ said the farmhand bitterly. ‘I ain’t slept proper for years worrying about it. Then when that Knoefler fellow were found, well…’
‘But,’ pointed out Colley, ‘the inquest decided Willy Ramage’s death was misadventure, that he fell onto his gun, probably after the dog bumped into him.’
‘Pha!’ exclaimed Hoare. ‘Your detective inspector, Wheatley or whatever they called him, he believed anything anyone told him. He was on a different planet.’
‘What do you mean?’ asked Blizzard.
‘Them townies knew nowt. That dog had been walking out on the lands with Willy for years, do you really think a pheasant or owt like that would spook him? Everyone knows it weren’t no dog that shot old Willy.’ Hoare gave a dark chuckle, his leer exposing his crooked teeth again. ‘I mean, can you really see that happening?’
‘No,’ said Blizzard, eying him morosely, ‘I don’t suppose I can.’
Chapter twenty
‘You want to do what?’ asked Ronald, sitting forward on his chair and gaping at the detectives in astonishment.
‘You heard me, Arthur,’ said Blizzard. ‘I want to re-open the investigation into the death of Willy Ramage.’
It was six o’clock that night and after a hurried discussion in the car on the way back from Green Meadow Farm, Blizzard and Colley had been united in their proposed course of action and were now sitting in the chief superintendent’s office at Abbey Road, trying to convince him to agree. Outside, in the darkness of another Hafton winter’s night, the wind was getting up and the officers could hear the rain driving ever harder against the window in the silence that had descended on the room. The detectives were not surprised that Ronald’s reaction had been less than enthusiastic; such a course of action was fraught with potential difficulties.
‘But why?’ asked Ronald plaintively after a few seconds of pondering the bombshell.
‘The RSPCA has been on, sir,’ said Colley, his face deadpan. ‘They think the dog was unfairly convicted. A case of wuff justice, as it were.’
Ronald stared at him for a second then at Blizzard’s equally impassive face.
‘This is some sort of stupid joke, yes?’ asked the superintendent.
‘It is a stupid joke,’ said Blizzard, winking at the sergeant. ‘But actually we do want to reinvestigate the death.’
‘But I thought that was all done and dusted years ago. The coroner brought in a misadventure verdict.’
‘He did,’ said Blizzard. ‘But we think he was wrong. That is why we want the case re-opened.’
‘You’d need good cause, John.’
‘We have good cause. We believe there is a link between the deaths of Horst Knoefler, Moira Savage and Willy Ramage.’
‘You’d need new evidence.’
‘We’ve got new evidence. A farmhand has come forward to say that father and son argued bitterly. Henderson wanted to flog the land off for as much as he could, his dad wanted to keep it all for farming. Henderson even attacked him over it.’
‘And Willy told his son he would have to kill him to get permission,’ noted Colley. ‘A few days later, he was as dead as the proverbial.’
‘And I’d have to clear it with Burniston,’ said Ronald, as if he had not heard the detectives’ words. ‘And the coroner.’
‘Then clear it with them,’ said Blizzard. ‘But tell them we want to do the inquiry from here because it fits in with the Knoefler inquiry. I don’t want anyone at Burniston doing it.’
‘And the chief constable will need telling,’ added Ronald unhappily.
‘Then tell him.’
‘Look, is this really necessary, John?’ Ronald looked at him with dark eyes. ‘I mean, really? You’re not just doing this for devilment?’
‘Arthur, I know why you don’t want this to happen and I know it puts you in a difficult position.’
‘Too right it does,’ said Ronald gloomily. ‘Danny Wheatley is destined for great things. The word is he will be promoted to chief inspector and brought onto the chief constable’s team when he comes out of traffic next month. There’s even talk that he will be after my job before long.’
‘God forbid,’ murmured Blizzard.
‘So, the chief will not exactly be delighted when he hears you want to re-open one of his blue-eyed boy’s biggest cases.’
‘I know all that, but if we think Danny Wheatley got it wrong over Willy Ramage, then it’s
our duty to check it out, whoever gets hurt, surely? Unless I am mistaken, that’s our job. Isn’t it?’
Ronald, who was torn so often between the need for diplomatic relations and self-preservation and the need to do the right thing, thought for a moment then came down instinctively on the side on which he always came down. Blizzard knew he would, Colley knew he would, Ronald knew he would, but they played the game anyway.
‘OK,’ said the superintendent. ‘But, be warned, John, there’ll be a lot of shit coming down on your head over this.’
‘And yours,’ said Blizzard.
‘Don’t I know it. I can’t see the Burniston commander welcoming this for starters. You know what Michael Raine is like; you’re hardly top of his Christmas card list after that dust-up you had with him last year.’
‘I know but you’ve made the right decision,’ said Blizzard. ‘That’s what makes you different from those other muppets.’
‘Thanks,’ said Ronald, genuinely appreciating the comment but still uncomfortable at the thought of the difficult days to come. ‘I imagine you want to do the inquiry yourself?’
‘No.’ Blizzard gave a wry smile. ‘Somehow I think that would make things worse. Besides, Tulley has turned up some new lines worth chasing on the Knoefler case.’
‘Then who will you get to do it?’
‘I was thinking of Chris Ramsey.’
‘Why?’ asked Ronald, although the tone of his voice suggested he approved.
‘He’s a DI, a solid officer, people respect him and he doesn’t carry the baggage I do. Besides, doesn’t he know Danny Wheatley?’ Blizzard glanced at Colley. ‘I thought you said they started out as rookies together over at Halcrombe Street? Maybe Danny will open up to Chris a bit more.’
‘OK,’ said Ronald. ‘But listen, John, watch Chris Ramsey’s back all the time. I don’t want him cut adrift over this one.’
‘I watch all their backs,’ said Blizzard. ‘You know that, Arthur.’
‘Yes, I know, but you have to realise there’s a lot of important people in headquarters that like Danny Wheatley.’
‘It’s a DBN thing,’ said Blizzard.
‘DBN?’ asked Ronald.
‘Department of Brown Nosing, sir,’ explained Colley.
‘Maybe so,’ said Ronald. ‘But whatever you think of him, Danny Wheatley is well and truly on the way up.’
‘He must be,’ said Blizzard. ‘They’ve started calling him Daniel on the memos.’
‘For God’s sake, will you take this seriously, John!’ exclaimed Ronald. ‘This is as delicate as it gets. There’s a lot at stake for all of us.’
‘And the last thing I want to do is get anyone in trouble, certainly not you. Or Danny, for that matter. He’s a good officer and no one wants him to have got it right over Willy Ramage more than me but if the force has made a mistake, we have to sort it out. You know that, Arthur.’
‘Yes, I know,’ said Ronald, ‘I know.’
‘And if the chief gives you a hard time over it, remind him that the “pledge to the public thing” he published last month banged on about accountability.’
‘Somehow I might not mention that,’ said Ronald, fixing the officers with a stern look.
Chapter twenty-one
Night had fallen over the city again as John Blizzard made his way wearily across the wasteland the next evening, illuminating his way with a torch and peering into the shadows, broken glass crunching beneath his feet. Behind him, beyond the ramshackle tall brick wall abutting the municipal car-park, the orange city centre lights twinkled and he could hear the low hum of traffic and the occasional blast of a car horn. Over to his left, and behind him now, the large glass windows of the railway station were brightly illuminated and the platforms inside were bustling with early evening commuters. But here on the wasteland, Blizzard felt cut off from all that, like he was in a different world. It was a sensation that he enjoyed and for many years, the engine shed had proved a refuge when he needed time to think as fire and fury broke above his head. Which was why he had come now.
It had been a testing day because, as Ronald had predicted, the news that Blizzard wanted to re-open the Willy Ramage case had caused major problems in headquarters.
It was an intervention from a surprising source that eventually swung the argument Ronald’s way when the Chief Constable seemed likely to refuse the request. Relatively new to the post of Deputy, having been appointed from one of the Yorkshire forces, Ken Bright was a no-nonsense hardened career detective, a burly dark-haired man in his late forties, a veteran of numerous murder inquiries, a man who talked straight, expected police officers to lock villains up and who had worked his way up through the ranks the hard way. Bright now proved his worth again, arguing forcefully that there was no alternative to re-opening the Willy Ramage case.
The city hall clock having just struck seven, Blizzard was walking towards the railway shed to spend some time with the Old Lady and gather his thoughts. Many a crime had been solved in the hours he spent struggling with recalcitrant bolts or standing back to look at the engine and lose himself in dreams of the day when she would steam again. Fumbling about in his anorak pocket for the keys, Blizzard was startled by the scraping of a shoe and whirled round as a figure emerged from the side of the engine shed.
‘Who’s there?’ he called out, trying to conceal the alarm in his voice.
‘The Fat Controller,’ said a voice. ‘Arthur said I might find you here.’
Recovering from the surprise, Blizzard peered into the darkness.
‘Ken?’ he said as the deputy chief constable stepped out of the shadows and into the chief inspector’s torch beam. ‘What are you doing here?’
‘I needed to see you,’ said Bright.
‘You’d better come in then,’ said Blizzard, unlocking the shed.
A few minutes later, they were sitting on battered old stools in the chilly shed, cradling steaming mugs of tea and surveying the old locomotive.
‘She’s a beauty,’ said Bright. ‘Or at least she will be when you’ve finished.’
‘How come so appreciative?’
‘My grandfather drove engines round the colliery near my home when I was kid. Sometimes he let me go on the footplate. Don’t suppose he was allowed to but no one ever seemed to mind. I loved it. Happy days,’ he said wistfully.
‘Yeah,’ said Blizzard, recalling his own childhood fascination with steam. ‘You know, you are the first copper I have ever heard say anything nice about steam engines. Colley says I’m crackers.’
‘He might have a point,’ said Bright.
‘Go on.’ said Blizzard, ‘I know you are not here to talk steam engines, spit it out.’
‘OK, for a start, we never had this meeting.’
‘OK.’
‘And, frankly, I should not be here.’
‘But you are.’
‘Yes.’ Bright took a sip of tea before looking earnestly at the chief inspector. ‘Listen, John, there is some heavy shit coming down and I am afraid it may be about to drop on your head.’
‘Meaning?’ said Blizzard.
‘This Willy Ramage business. There are people in headquarters want to see you out of the door over it.’
‘Tell me something I don’t know,’ grunted Blizzard. ‘It’s been like that for years.’
‘Yes, but this time it’s different.’
‘Because of Danny Wheatley?’ asked Blizzard. ‘Why, for God’s sake?’
‘He has been earmarked for great things. The chief sees an attack on Danny as an attack on him.’
‘Maybe he does, but if Danny got it wrong, then surely we have to look at it again?’ exclaimed Blizzard. ‘That’s what I said to Arthur and I imagine that is what he said to the chief. And you agree with that; I heard what you did today and I’m grateful for the support.’
‘Yes, I do agree,’ said Bright. ‘But I’m not sure the chief sees it that way. Look at it from his point of view; he’s about to promote Danny Wheatley to his per
sonal staff, the press release is already written, and if it turns out he made a gaffe over the Ramage death, the chief will have to change his mind. You can imagine what that will say about the chief’s judgement.’
‘Yes, but…’
‘And, he is already under pressure over Brian Savage.’
‘Oh, come on!’ exclaimed Blizzard. ‘Surely, you’re not saying that because they’re in the Freemasons together, the chief wants this case dropped?’
‘No.’ Bright shook his head. ‘No, he’s too good a copper for that. Don’t look like that, John, the chief may have many faults but he’s not as bad as some people paint him. You might be surprised to hear that he backed you over this. He actually thinks you are a decent detective.’
‘Really?’
‘Yes, but when you let Savage out, the first thing he did was ring the chief and protest his innocence. And he wasn’t the first, the chief has had a few calls from Lodge members since Savage’s arrest, saying that they are angry at the way he has been dealt with.’
‘For God’s sake,’ protested Blizzard. ‘He set up his wife for a beating.’
‘I know, and the chief told him that,’ said Bright. ‘All I’m saying is go careful. You have bruised plenty of egos in your time and there are some senior officers who would like nothing better than to see you drummed out of the force. This could give them just the weapon they need.’
‘And you?’ asked Blizzard shrewdly. ‘Do you want to see me drummed out of the force?’
‘You know the answer to that, John. If I had my way you’d be bloody chief constable by now.’ Bright chuckled. ‘When I had retired, of course.’
‘Thanks for that.’
‘Besides, there’s something else,’ said Bright.
‘Top-up?’ Blizzard nodded to the kettle.
‘Aye, thanks.’
They stopped talking for a few moments as the chief inspector filled up their mugs with water and rooted round in a rusty old cupboard for a new box of teabags.
‘So, what’s the something else?’ asked Blizzard once they were settled again. ‘This business with Franz Hasse, I imagine?’
‘Yeah. The Home Office is turning the heat up. There’s hell on and all the publicity about them letting one of Europe’s most wanted villains slip through our fingers has caused a lot of embarrassment in Whitehall.’
