by Alan Fisher
“Yes, DC Oliver Cole, we spoke earlier on the phone Miss? Golding” squeaked Oliver, more nervously than he had intended.
“Call me Tanya, please, Mr Cole, and do come in”.
She led him along a deep pile carpet-covered corridor to a kitchen basking in bright sunlight. She walked around the central island with expensive looking bar stools and switched on the coffee machine.
“Coffee Mr Cole?”
“Thanks” said Oliver as he took out his phone and his notepad and placed them on the island.
“Take the weight off then” said Tanya as the coffee machine started to gurgle. “Might as well be comfortable”.
Oliver did as he was asked and sat on the first stool at the end of the island.
“I’m afraid I don’t have a lot of information to go on Miss ………, sorry, I mean Tanya” he corrected himself as she shot him a smile. “The details I received were a bit vague. Would you mind just walking me through exactly what happened yesterday?”
“Ok” she said with her back to him as she pulled out two china mugs from the cupboard above the coffee machine. “I was out yesterday afternoon in Jesmond having lunch with a friend of mine. We met at the restaurant at around 12.30 and I left at around 3 in the afternoon. I was walking along St George’s Terrace to where I had parked my car, just around the corner by the post office, and I was attacked from behind. My bag was snatched off my shoulder and I was knocked to the ground. I didn’t get much of a look at him, but he had a crash helmet on anyway because he ran a few yards in front of me and jumped on the back of a motorcycle and sped off”.
“So there was two of them then?”
“Well yes, it seems the driver was waiting for him. Clearly they timed it so they could get away as quickly as possible. Is that usual? Have there been any other similar incidents lately?”
“Not that I’m aware off but I’ll certainly look into it. Were there any witnesses that I can talk to? Did anyone come forward to give you any help?”
“Not really. It all happened so fast. I just picked myself up and went back to the restaurant to call a taxi and get home. I reported it to the police as soon as I got home”.
Tanya filled the coffee cups and brought them across to where Oliver was sitting. She pulled out the stool next to him and sat down.
“Did you see anything unusual or anyone acting suspiciously during the afternoon?”
“In Jesmond Mr Cole, the unusual and suspicious are normal. This is predominately, student country, if you know what I mean. But no, I didn’t notice anyone in particular”.
“Ok, which restaurant were you at Tanya and is it somewhere you would go on a regular basis?”
“The Willow Tree on St George’s Terrace. I’ve been a few times, but I wouldn’t say I was a regular there, no”.
“And your car?”
“I picked it up a couple of hours later, fortunately I have a spare set of keys here. I didn’t want to leave it any later in case they somehow knew where my car was and took that as well”.
“And the contents of the bag that was stolen?”
“Purse with around a hundred pounds in it, and a couple of bank cards and credit cards in. A mobile phone, car keys of course and the keys to my flat. I keep a spare set with a neighbour before you ask Mr Cole. Other incidental stuff like make up and the like, nothing with my address on it fortunately”.
Oliver wondered if this woman was very lucky or extremely well organised. Losing the keys to her car and her home with neither having been affected was fortunate to say the least.
“I assume you’ve cancelled all of the bank and credit cards?”
“Of course” she smiled, “second thing I did after I got home”.
“And the first?”
“Poured myself a large drink and rang my friend to make sure she was ok, which, luckily, she was”.
“Ok then, can you let me have some contact details for your friend? I may need to have a short chat with her just to see if she noticed anything unusual yesterday”.
Tanya reached across the kitchen island and picked up a piece of paper which she handed to Oliver.
“I thought you’d ask; her details are all on there for you”.
Oliver picked up the sheet of paper, glanced at it quickly, and placed it inside his notebook before closing it.
“You realise that the chances of catching whoever was responsible for this are remote Tanya. I don’t mean to sound pessimistic but unless this pair are serial offenders they’ll be hard to trace. That doesn’t mean we won’t try, but you should be prepared for the fact that all you will be able to do will be to make an insurance claim. I’ll give you a crime number so you can start the process” he said reaching into his coat pocket.
“I know, and thanks for looking into this Mr Cole. Apart from a few pounds missing, there’s no real harm done other than inconvenience and a small bruise on my knee. If that’s all, I’ll show you out”.
Oliver drained the last bit of coffee from the mug and followed her back to the front door.
“I’ll go and have a look around Jesmond now and make a full report to my DS. We’ll be in touch if we find anything”.
“Thank you Mr Cole, I wish you luck” said Tanya as she closed the door.
Oliver made his way back to his car, planning to walk the route Tanya had taken the previous afternoon in Jesmond. She’d been lucky, to a degree. Was it a random attack? Was it the beginning of a spate of new muggings, or was it perhaps a targeted attack. In his heart he thought it more likely that it was random, the prospect of a wave of these types of attack starting didn’t bear thinking about. As for a targeted attack, the fact that her car and home were untouched suggested he should forget that one.
He climbed into his car and headed off towards Jesmond. Although not enthused by the case, he intended to be thorough. This might not be a murder case, but he wasn’t going to give his new, and hopefully temporary, DS any cause to doubt his professionalism or commitment.
Chapter 7
“Morning Jack” said Dr Gordon Crosby without looking up from the body laid out in front of him.
“Morning Gordon” replied Jack without surprise. Jack was well used to Gordon knowing who was standing behind him without looking and grew tired of the continuous party-trick.
The drive to Byker with DS Jason Glover had been quiet, neither certain of what should be said. Jack would normally talk to either Colin or, more lately, to Oliver about what they were about to find. But information had been limited and Jack drew the conclusion that Jason was still a bit apprehensive about being seconded to work with Jack.
The temporary appointment was designed to give Jason some experience of working with a DCI, having only relatively recently passed his Sergeants exams. But Jack had also been asked to assess him on his ability to lead and on his judgement capabilities. With that in mind he’d given him a free hand with the team assignments that morning, he was already wondering if that had been wise when he stood over the body.
In front of Jack, laid out on a large plastic sheet over a rug approximately 10 feet square, was the body of a man, probably in his late forties or early fifties. He was dressed in a dark blue suit with a blood soaked white shirt and what may have been a navy blue tie. Blood stains covered the plastic sheet and had spread to small areas of the rug underneath, clearly he’d been in the industrial bin for a few hours at least.
“I heard DS Davis was indisposed Jack, how’s he doing” asked Gordon, eyes still focused on the body in front of him.
“Fractured hip, Gordon. Likely to be on crutches for a couple of months at least. After that we’ll have to wait and see how quickly everything mends, he’s not as young as he used to be”.
“Nor are any of us Jack, although I thought that might have meant young Cole joining you on this one”.
“He’s on another case Gordon. This is DS Jason Glover. He’ll be standing in for Colin for a while”.
Gordon turned to look at Jason and nodded a sign of greeting.<
br />
“Nice to meet you Glover, I won’t shake hands if that’s ok” said Gordon showing his blood-stained gloved hands.
“No problem sir, good to meet you too” said Jason.
“It’s Gordon or Dr, DS Glover, no sir necessary with me”.
“Right then Gordon” said Jack, moving around to stand at the feet of the body. “What can you tell me?”
“Quite a bit actually Jack, you’ll recognise him of course”.
“No” said Jack, looking closer at the victim’s face, “should I?”
“I would have thought so, but maybe you don’t socialise in political circles. This is Andrew McMillan, the Conservative candidate for Tynemouth in the next election, whenever that will be”.
“A politician? Shite” exclaimed Jack, “that’s going to complicate things no end that is”.
“How so?” said Gordon as he stood up and peeled off his gloves.
“Well for one, the press is going to be all over it, national as well as local. And for two, there’s no dirtier game on the planet than politics. If that’s the motive, it’ll get ugly”.
“You’re assuming he was murdered then Jack?”
“Absolutely, unless you tell me otherwise, of course. I can’t imagine he wrapped himself in a plastic sheet and a rug and threw himself into the bin. And I doubt a random mugger would have gone to the trouble either. No, this will be about who he was I guess, and that means it’ll be wrapped in bloody politics”.
“Well, you might be right, at least about it not being a simple mugging. But anyway, the facts. He’s been stabbed in the stomach with what looks like a knife with a 6 to 8 inch blade, can’t say more than that until I’ve had a better look. He didn’t die instantly mind; the loss of blood over the next couple of hours took care of that. I would guess that he was stabbed between 8 and 10 last night and died around midnight, probably after he’d been dumped in the bin over there. He’d have been unconscious throughout of course”.
“So he was stabbed late last night, lost consciousness, was wrapped in this plastic sheet and rug, dumped here, and left to die?”
“Pretty much yes. Except he was wrapped in this plastic sheet first and then wrapped in the rug, the sheet came as part of the package so to speak. Don’t know if the order of wrapping is important, but it is a fact”.
“Seems odd, why on earth would anyone wrap the body twice?”
“I’ve no idea Jack, I think that’s what you get paid for, isn’t it? smiled Gordon. “I can confirm your initial thoughts that it wasn’t a mugging though, because his wallet and car keys were still inside his jacket”.
“Any sign of the car he was driving?”
“Not in the immediate locality, but given that he was brought here to be dumped I would guess that the car is where he left it, perhaps at the place where he was stabbed. Oh, and there’s one other thing”.
“Isn’t there always” sighed Jack, “not a note is it?”
“Not as such” said Gordon picking up a plastic bag from beside his case. “I found this stuffed into his mouth”.
Jack took the plastic bag and looked closely at the contents before passing it over to Jason who had moved in beside him to see the bag. Inside the bag was what looked like a rolled-up piece of coloured cardboard.
“What the hell is that?” asked Jason, “a playing card?”
“Full marks for observation DS Glover, it is indeed a playing card. The Jack of Diamonds to be exact”.
“What does it mean sir?” said Jason, turning to Jack.
“It means we’d better get back to headquarters and get the wheels in motion. Nothing more to be done here. Autopsy and fingerprint results Gordon?”
“This afternoon if we’re lucky, tomorrow morning at the latest. Photos and briefing details will be waiting for you when you get back to Ponteland”.
“Thanks Gordon, give me a call if you find anything else unusual will you?”
“Of course, good luck Jack, I think you’re going to need it on this one”.
Chapter 8
When Oliver arrived back at Ponteland headquarters after spending the early part of the afternoon looking around Jesmond, the office was a hive of frantic activity. DS Glover was stood at the incident board pinning photographs to the board and writing down notes beside each one. Debbie Swan was on the phone, Paul Moore was scratching his head, deep in thought in front of his computer and Robbie Wainwright was emerging from Jack’s office looking a little anxious.
Oliver crossed the office and threw his coat on the back of his chair. Desperate to find out what was going on, he switched on his computer and watched his busy colleagues working whilst waiting for it to spring into action. He had his report to write but hoped he would either be told what was going on or find an opportunity to question someone.
When the computer finally cranked into gear, he took out his notebook and started to type. Jason Glover was still at the incident board and everyone else had their heads down. No-one spoke.
Eventually, Robbie went back into Jack’s office and returned a few minutes later. Oliver managed to catch his eye as he was returning to his desk and received a look from Robbie and a shake of the head that said, “don’t ask now, I’ll fill you in later”.
Fifteen minutes later Jack emerged from his office with his overcoat on his arm and his cloth cap in his left hand. He breezed past Oliver and the rest of the team without a second glance heading for the door.
“Grab your coat Jason, we’re off to see the widow”.
“Yes sir” said Jason “catch you up in a minute downstairs”.
Jack left the room as Jason was grabbing his coat from the back of his chair and desperately trying to catch up. He started issuing instructions as he crossed the room.
“Make sure your reports are on my desk before you all leave tonight, I’ll be back later and I want to read them all before I go home” he said as he reached the doorway. “And I need updates on your new assignments as well please”
And without a backward glance he was gone.
Oliver waited a few seconds but before he could get out of his chair, Debbie and Robbie were already by his desk.
“Where have you been mate? You missed the briefing this afternoon” said a flustered Robbie.
“Glover didn’t look best pleased that you weren’t back from your assignment in time” added Debbie.
“I had no idea any briefing was going on” said Oliver, “Nobody said bugger all to me about anything, I was investigating the mugging assignment I was given this morning. If it was so important for me to be here, why the hell didn’t anyone tell me?” he added frustratingly.
“I think the DS expected you would have completed the assignment by lunchtime and be back on time. What took you so long?” asked Robbie.
“Nothing” exclaimed Oliver. “I went to the victim’s apartment in Gosforth and took a statement. She gave me the details of when and where the mugging took place and after I’d left her I drove to Jesmond. I went to the restaurant and talked to some of the staff and then walked the route she took when she was mugged. I was looking to see if there was any CCTV in the area I might be able to call on to take the investigation further, but there wasn’t any. I grabbed a quick sandwich whilst I was walking the route before heading back here”.
Oliver stopped talking as he noticed Robbie and Debbie looking at each other rather than at him.
“What” he said rather too loudly.
“What” he repeated when no-one answered him.
“Erm” said Debbie slowly, “I rather think the DS expected you just to take a statement and issue a crime number. I don’t think he imagined you might go off to the scene of the crime and walk the route looking for evidence”.
“Why the hell not?” said Oliver, growing increasingly exasperated.
“Because it was a mugging Oliver, not the Brinks Matt robbery. I think he would see it as routine, you know. A statement, a crime number, claim on the insurance, and back in the office befo
re lunch. I might be wrong, but it looked like he was surprised you were still out there”.
“Then he obviously doesn’t know me very well then, does he? I’ve never done half a job on anything I’ve been given to do, and I don’t intend to start now”
“I know mate” said Robbie, trying to keep some calmness in the conversation. “He’s only been here two minutes, he won’t know you at all just yet, or any of us for that matter”.
“He’ll have read our files and I’m sure the DCI will have given him a heads up, so he’ll know enough. Speaking of the DCI, has he said anything about me not being here?”
“No, nothing” said Debbie.
“You mean he didn’t even notice? Oh crap. Anyway, we can’t change what is. I’ll have to deal with any fallout later. Tell me what I’ve missed, seems to be a bit of a panic on”.
“The body in the bin at Byker turned out to be a stabbing, someone important too by all accounts” said Debbie, sitting on the edge of Oliver’s desk.
“Who?” asked Oliver impatiently.
“Andrew McMillan” said Robbie quickly, as if the name explained everything.
“Never heard of him” said Oliver, “should I have?”
“Not necessarily, we hadn’t until we were told. He’s a local politician, Conservative candidate for Tynemouth, quite popular apparently, half a chance of being elected next time by all accounts” said Debbie.
“And?”
“And what?” said Robbie.
“Well what happened? I need a few more details than just who it was”.
“Oh, yeah” said Robbie, “sorry. The body was discovered early this morning in one of those big industrial bins behind Shields Road in Byker. Apparently the body was a bit wedged in, otherwise the binmen wouldn’t have noticed it”.
“Sounds odd” said Oliver, “a dead body would be hard to miss”.
“It was rolled inside a plastic sheet inside a rug. They had no idea until they pulled the rug out and the body fell out” said Debbie.
“So it was dumped there” said Oliver almost thinking to himself.
