by L M Krier
‘Maurice, I want you on this too, you’re good at talking to people. Perhaps you can take the father, but don’t be judgemental of him, please. He’s to be treated with courtesy. He was in an impossible situation and will probably blame himself for the rest of his life. I doubt he could feel any worse than he does, so let’s not add to what he’s going through by insinuating he’s somehow at fault.
‘He speaks excellent English, but I’m not sure about the mother. I only heard her speaking something else. Would it be Arabic, Océane, if they’re from Algeria originally?’
‘Arabic or possibly Berber, boss. But it’s quite likely she’ll speak French as well, if not English, especially if they lived in France.’
‘Are we treating him and his wife as accomplices, boss?’ Mike Hallam asked him.
‘Rob, anything from the interview so far to suggest that we should?’
‘Nothing, boss. He’s not said anything to implicate them. Far from it, he’s just said he was staying with them and they knew nothing about the work he was doing for Kateb.’
‘Right, well, get whatever you can from him as soon as you can, and keep me posted. In the meantime, I’ll talk to CPS and see what they’re happy for us to charge him with as holding charges, until we get all of the forensics in.’
A call from the Ice Queen interrupted him before he could phone the Crown Prosecution Service.
‘Anything yet from the suspect?’
‘He’s not saying a great deal at the moment. Have you heard when the next briefing at Central Park is? Or what the plan is for further arrests?’
‘Mr Marston is being unusually quiet at the moment, but I’ve no doubt we’ll be summoned in due course. I suspect there are still meetings at executive level about yesterday’s events.’
‘I want to get the team on to interviewing the family, but I was waiting to hear if he had other ideas about how things should go from here.’
‘I would suggest that as you are SIO on the murder enquiry, you proceed as you would on any other such case. If Mr Marston disagrees with how you think things should be handled, I’m happy to say I authorised you to continue.’
Ted’s next phone call was from Jim Baker. Even on sick leave, he’d heard all about what had happened the previous day. Ted had to listen meekly while his other boss first tore him off a strip about how he’d proceeded, then finished up with, ‘Bloody good work, though, Ted. And about bloody time you agreed to accept a commendation. Yes, I heard about that, too. The jungle drums are still working.’
His next phone call was the one he’d been hoping for. Doug, from the forensics lab.
‘Morning, boss, how are the pussy cats?’
Doug was another cat-lover, who showed his British Shorthairs. Ted was itching to know the results of forensic testing so far but took the time to chat briefly. It was always a good idea to keep the forensics lot on side. They would go out of their way to help anyone who was polite and treated them like humans. It was still something of a rarity from some officers. Ted was happy to make feline small talk, especially when Doug said he’d missed a cat show the previous day to work on the bloods Ted was waiting for.
‘Bacha’s DNA is all over the exterior and interior of the Astra. The traces of blood remaining on the knife are a positive match for the victim, Vera Ashworth. So as you took the knife from him – and well done for that, boss – we have him handling the knife which was almost certainly used to kill the victim. We’re still working, so you’ll have more as the day goes on. I know you’re coming up to your twenty-four hours of holding him, so I thought you’d like that to be going on with.’
‘Thanks so much, Doug, I really appreciate your hard work. And I’m really sorry Cadfael missed his show.’
A damp Monday lunchtime in a park. A bunch of teenage girls, sitting around on benches, swigging from cans, smoking cigarettes, taking endless selfies. Waiting for something – anything – to break the monotony of the day. Some of them should have been in school. Others were meant to be actively seeking work, to appease parents and try to earn some money.
One of them, with pink hair and piercings, would probably have been interviewing witnesses to yesterday’s hostage situation, had she not been hanging out with the others who had no clue at all as to her true identity.
They watched, like a pride of hungry lionesses, on the lookout for sufficiently vulnerable prey to come along. Even hunting in a pack, they ignored those who looked strong enough to put up a fight. Sometimes people would appear at the end of the path leading towards them, see them lying in wait, then suddenly remember an important appointment elsewhere and turn tail. There weren’t many people about. The odds of any who were nearby being have-a-go heroes who would come to their aid were too slim to gamble with.
Jezza was sitting companionably close to the ringleader, Tara. She was slowly gaining her trust. She had earned it by showing no fear in the face of aggression. The others were afraid of her, she knew, as they’d seen early on that she could handle herself. She was gradually slipping into the role of lieutenant. She knew a lot about Tara and the individual members now, almost enough to go on. It was getting nearly time to wind up her undercover operation.
‘Eh, Tara, look at this,’ one of the girls said to attract her attention.
Tara and Jezza looked up. A young woman was walking along the path towards them, seemingly unconcerned. She had a camera on a strap around her neck. Even from a distance, Jezza recognised her immediately. The local reporter. Pocket Billiards’ replacement, Penny Hunter. She knew there was no reason for Penny to know her by sight. Even if she’d glimpsed her before, she would never recognise her in her current get-up.
Tara sprang up off the back of the bench she was sitting on and stepped into the path of the oncoming reporter, who was continuing on her way, apparently unconcerned by the reception committee. Jezza got up to stand next to Tara, her mind already racing to find a way to get the journalist out of there unharmed. She must surely realise what a target she presented, carrying what was evidently an expensive camera.
Penny Hunter still seemed calm as she walked closer. She was either blissfully unaware of the danger, or she had some secret weapon to deploy at the last moment.
‘Hi,’ she said in greeting. ‘I’m from the local paper. I wonder if I could talk to you? I want to do a piece about what there is for young people to do in Stockport. What their job prospects are like, what needs to be done to make things better for them.’
She was either fearless or naïve. Jezza didn’t yet know which, but she was becoming worried about the situation getting out of her control. Tara was prowling round the reporter now, in menacing circles, eyeing up the camera.
‘What is there for us to do? Fuck all. What are our job prospects? Fuck all.’
The rest of the girls laughed, but there was an edge of nervousness to it. They knew that something was about to kick off. The reporter still seemed oblivious to the menace in the air.
Tara’s hand shot out and grabbed the camera by the strap, yanking the journalist towards her so that their faces were inches apart.
‘But this? This would get us a few bob to buy a load more voddies and cranberry, then we wouldn’t give a shit that there was nothing for us to do round here.’
Penny tried to pull away but the grip on the camera strap was too tight.
‘The camera’s not mine. It belongs to the paper. I just wanted to talk to you, to give you the chance to talk about how things are, growing up in Stockport. To put your point of view across.’
Tara jerked on the strap once more, then her spare hand went up to grab a fistful of the reporter’s hair. Jezza saw her leg start to come up to smack her in the face as she lost her balance. She moved fast to get between the two of them.
‘Wait! Don’t mark her. This one’s mine. You have the camera. I’ve got a mate who’d pay good money for her, but not if she’s damaged. That part will come later.’
Tara hesitated as Jezza squared up to her. Jezza
had no idea what would happen if the rest of the pack backed their leader and waded in. At the moment, none of them seemed to have much appetite for a fight. Even Tara was hesitating.
‘We want a share of the money.’
‘Yeah, no worries. You just have to trust me. Let me take her to my friend then I’ll come back with the cash. If I don’t, you know where I live.’
As part of establishing her cover, Jezza had had Tara and a couple of others round to the miserable one-bedroom flat she was using. It had seemed to convince them that she was one of them. That and her drama skills.
‘Give us your phone,’ Tara told the reporter, dragging the camera roughly from round her neck.
Penny had obviously decided by now that if she was to get out of there unscathed, the line of least resistance was the best one to follow. She fished in her coat pocket and pulled out an expensive-looking smartphone, which she handed over reluctantly.
Jezza took the opportunity to grab her roughly by the arm, pulling her away from Tara and ordering, ‘Move it, bitch.’
She was sure the others would follow them but she needed to put distance between them so she could get her own phone out and call Virgil. Penny started to say something so Jezza quickened her pace, making a show of grabbing her by the neck and pulling her head closer.
‘Shut up and keep walking. I’m going to get us both out of here, hopefully, but I need to make this look convincing. So scream.’
When the reporter didn’t immediately react she squeezed her neck tightly, which made her call out. It was not so much a scream as a monotone shouting of ‘ow-ow-ow’ as they walked. Jezza hoped it would sound realistic enough.
As soon as she could, she pulled her mobile out and called Virgil.
‘Virgil! Urgent pick-up required, now. Hollywood Park, Hardman Street steps. And for God’s sake don’t worry about speed limits. I need a pimp.’
They’d arranged between them that in case of emergency, that would be their cover. Virgil, in his black BMW, with his body-builder’s figure and wearing his mirrored shades, was another one who looked nothing like most people’s idea of a policeman.
If Virgil was free to leave immediately and got his foot down, he could be with them in minutes. Jezza risked a look over her shoulder. The others weren’t far behind but were walking slowly, keeping them in sight but not making any attempt to catch them up. Yet.
‘Who are you and where are you taking me?’ the reporter asked, trying to wriggle free of Jezza’s secure grip.
‘I’m taking you to safety, so I can’t tell you any more until our lift gets here. You’ll just have to trust me.’
Virgil must have broken every speed limit and possibly jumped some lights on the way because it was a mercifully short time before his big black Beamer came squealing up the road towards them. He got out himself so anyone watching could see him, an imposing figure, standing at the top of the steps Jezza and Penny had jogged up, his arms folded across his powerful chest.
Jezza wrenched open a rear door of the BMW and shoved Penny inside, shouting loudly, ‘Get in, bitch.’ She wanted to make sure that Tara and the others, who were lurking at the bottom of the steps, could hear what she said.
Then she slid into the front passenger seat. Virgil paused a moment longer, looking down at the pack of girls who had stopped in their tracks at the sight of him. As he got back in, Jezza told him, ‘Drive. Fast.’
‘Who are you and where are you taking me?’
‘We’re police officers and I’ve probably just blown my cover getting you out of there. Have you got a death wish, going in there and talking to that lot on your own?’
She had her mobile out and was calling the station to get Uniformed officers mobile and on their way to the park as soon as possible to round up the teenagers.
‘We’ll need to take you back to the station to get a statement from you. I’m sorry about your camera and phone. With any luck, they’ll be recovered when they’re arrested.’
‘She didn’t check my other pockets and I’ve got a voice recorder in another one so I’ve got it all recorded for you.’
Jezza rolled her eyes at Virgil. She’d had to blow the operation to get the journalist out of there and they’d be lucky to have much to show for it. The boss wasn’t going to be pleased, for one thing.
‘We can’t use a covert recording that wasn’t authorised. That’s why we’ll need your full witness statement.’
They passed two area cars, on blues and twos, heading for Hollywood Park, as they got nearer to the station. Jezza hoped they would manage to round them all up. She was desperately hoping to have something to show for all the time and effort that had gone into the operation to date. The DCI was the best and fairest boss she’d ever worked with, but even he would be expecting something positive to put on his reports to justify it all.
Chapter Twenty-two
Jezza signed them in at the front desk and got a visitor pass for Penny.
‘Sarge, I want to interview this witness, but not down here in an interview room. I’ll take her upstairs. I don’t want any of the three of us to be around when Uniform bring in the little charmers they’ve gone out to get. There’s still a chance I can keep my cover if they don’t see me here.’
Bill looked at her ironically.
‘You’re working undercover, DC Vine? I would never have guessed. I’ll call upstairs to warn you when your guests arrive. They sound delightful.’
‘Can you come this way, Penny? Virgil, can you see if I can use Jo’s office for the interview? I’d better just let the boss know what’s happened. I’ll be with you as soon as I can, Penny. I’m sure someone will make you some tea or something while you’re waiting.’
Ignoring the comments of the team members who were in about her appearance, Jezza headed straight for the boss’s office and knocked, waiting for a response before she went in.
Ted looked up from his desk over the top of his reading glasses. He was surprised to see her back in the station, especially still dressed in character as she was.
‘Boss, it all went a bit pear-shaped just now. The reporter turned up in the park where I was hanging out with the girl gang. I had to get her out of there in one piece. But I’ve got uniform rounding the girls up now and so far I don’t think my cover is blown ...’
‘Jezza, slow down, sit down and tell me calmly exactly what happened while I put the kettle on.’
‘But I’ve got the reporter waiting for me, boss, to take her statement.’
Ted went to his door and put his head out.
‘Can someone please make a drink for Ms Hunter and tell her that DC Vine will be with her in five minutes.’
He made green tea for them both then sat back down.
‘Right, Jezza, quick debrief, please.’
He knew she wasn’t worried about his reaction to what she had to tell him. She knew him well enough by now to know that he was a reasonable boss. But Jezza set herself high standards and hated it when things didn’t go as she’d hoped. They would certainly have enough to charge Tara and some of the others with what had happened earlier, but she would have liked a more positive result.
Ted listened without interrupting until she had finished and was looking at him, still clearly anxious, waiting for his reaction.
‘It sounds as if you put yourself at some degree of risk, Jezza. But, as the rest of the team will no doubt tell you, I’m probably not best placed to lecture you on that at the moment. It’s still a good result, even if you were hoping for more. Get all the paperwork sorted out, let’s charge whoever we can, and see if we can get some TICs from them. That’ll improve our crime figures. Good work, but you can wind up the operation now and report back as normal tomorrow, minus the hardware.’
If defendants admitted earlier crimes and asked for them to be Taken Into Consideration, it looked good on paper. Some officers tried to get them to admit to anything to improve statistics, but Ted would have none of it under his command. He was only intere
sted in genuine ones.
Rob O’Connell came upstairs to find the boss shortly after Jezza had left. They were into their twelve-hour extension on holding Bacha. They were still waiting for anything else forensics could give them but, having now spoken to CPS, Ted was happy enough for them to go ahead and charge Bacha with the murder of Vera Ashworth, in addition to the serious charges arising from the arrest the previous day.
‘He’s just on a refreshment break, boss, so I thought I’d come and update you. We’ve presented him with the forensics evidence so far and he’s asking for some sort of deal in return for him giving us information. I’ve tried, and his solicitor has, to explain that he’s facing a mandatory life sentence for murder but he still seems to think there’s some leeway.’
‘Has he given any indication of why he stabbed her, rather than just collecting the watch and the laptop, as he was supposed to?’
‘And the car, boss. It was always the intention to take the car as well. They’d been watching her when she met Kateb so they knew what it was and that it was worth a few quid to them.
‘Another gang member, driving the Astra, dropped Bacha off near where he was to meet Mrs Ashworth in Wilmslow. He was supposed to get the watch then ask to see her phone and give her a receipt. As soon as she opened the car to get the laptop, he was meant to push her out of the way and drive off in it to where the other man was waiting with false plates.
‘His solicitor has clearly advised him it can’t hurt to be cooperative, so he’s started to talk a bit. He says it was all going well. His fake ID was flawless, and the woman had spoken to Kateb on the phone to check he was who he was supposed to be when they met up.
‘Mrs Ashworth was clearly no fool, though. She started asking him questions, saying he looked young to be a detective and asking where he did his training and where he’d served in uniform. That was what threw him. He had a good cover story, except for that, and he didn’t really know anywhere which would sound convincing. It wasn’t his first visit to England, but he doesn’t know it well. He said Manchester, because that was where he’d flown in to, but once she started trying to pin him down on a particular area, he just lost it and pulled the knife. It’s clear from talking to him that as he comes off whatever it is he uses, he gets very flaky and unpredictable.’
