Hot Blood (Bloodwords Book 1)

by Vic Marelle

  Clearly she was enthusiastic. Had he not been overawed for part of the time and away in his own thoughts for the remainder, he would not have been able to get a word in edgeways anyway.

  ‘Making it an over 55 complex means that we can sell some units outright, sell some on shared ownership which then continues to bring part rental in, and keep some for us to rent out,’ she concluded, adding ‘and all of them will pay a service charge anyway.’

  ‘OK, I can see that,’ he replied, ‘but where does the money come to do all this? The old caravans can just be towed away but how do we finance the bungalows?’

  ‘While the land is split between us it is a problem, obviously. But once the land has been combined the houses can be re-mortgaged to kick-start the project,’ replied his aunt. ‘And with a proper business plan I am sure that a loan could be obtained to finance the first phase.’

  ‘I’ve got to admit that I like the idea in principle,’ responded Kevin. ‘Replacing our reception with a brand spanking new building that houses a common residents lounge, library, café, games room and function suite is a very attractive proposition. And some of the vans on the site at the moment are getting long in the tooth so your modern bungalows sound a good idea too. But we would need more money than a mortgage on the houses would provide and I doubt the banks would want to know. Dad tried that and got nowhere.’

  ‘You are right Kevin. Financing a run-down caravan park isn’t the safest investment for a bank is it? But retirement homes are getting more and more popular and the American idea of gated communities are considered to be top of the pile.’ With a big smile of confidence she concluded, ‘I’ve bounced it off my friend at Barclays and he says that we will have no trouble raising the funds without bringing in outside investors, but that a watertight business plan would be essential. He also said that we would have to put both houses into the pot as security, even if only to demonstrate our commitment. I am prepared to do that Kevin, both for our futures and those of our children.’

  ‘Hold on a minute,’ he responded with a grin. ‘I have a cousin – your daughter – but I’ve not even got a steady girlfriend, let alone got married. That’s all a bit in the future isn’t it?’

  ‘We have to look forward or the past will wipe us out. One day you will have your own family and what I see down at Green Fields at the moment isn’t going to give you a family income. I don’t think that your wooden chalet would impress a future bride either would it Kevin?’

  What had been planned as a friendly thirty-minute chat had developed into a full-blown business meeting. And that had then stretched to continue through dinner and into the early evening. So intense were their discussions that neither of them noticed sudden burst of activity along the road at the end of the drive or flashing blue lights.

  Thirty-Four

  ‘Right Gentlemen,’ said DCI Arthur Handley, ‘before we get to grips with the murder cases I would just like to apologise Frank for having you go hither and thither instead of letting you concentrate on your existing cases.’

  ‘Didn’t work though did it?’ replied Davies, ‘I’ve had to come back in the end.’

  ‘Let’s not get into that Frank. It had to be done, just leave it at that.’

  Handley made a show of moving some papers about on his desk, shuffling a couple of large envelopes and then putting everything back largely as it had been in the first place. In front of him, DI Frank Davies and DI Don Radcliffe sat waiting to be grilled about an investigation that had not gone anywhere. Three cases really, although the common cause of death had linked them indelibly. It was a known fact that the first twenty-four hours in any enquiry were crucial. These had gone way over that time scale and as far as his superiors would be concerned, it mattered little that Davies had run one enquiry and Radcliffe the other two. In their Liverpool ivory towers, Handley would be tarred with the failures of his junior officers as if he had run the cases himself. Clearly, Davies needed to protect his backside with the fact that he had been taken off the Archer case – so this meeting would be crucial.

  ‘I must say that I share Don’s concern that the first scene wasn’t secured,’ Handley directed at Davies. ‘Anything could have happened between your initial visit and when you eventually went back and secured the place Frank.’

  ‘What is this?’ burst out Davies irately. ‘I have already discussed this with Don. Am I being ambushed and set up as a scapegoat?’

  ‘Certainly not Frank,’ responded the DCI. ‘I am playing devils advocate. These are exactly the questions that I will be asked tomorrow and I want to have the answers.’

  ‘Sounds like a rerun of the Home Office thing.’

  ‘Yes, in a way I suppose that it is. Once again I am having to justify our existence. But in this case I don’t go along with what the CSI lads said to you and I don’t suppose HQ will either. Just think about it Frank, the perpetrator could have taken something from the scene, or left something and gone back for it, anything like that, and with it all being unsecured we don’t have a clue do we?’

  ‘Oh really Arthur,’ responded Davies, ‘that’s all a bit far fetched. I mean, what’s somebody going to take for God’s sake?’

  ‘Well we don’t know do we? But there could be lots of scenarios. There was no identification on the body so perhaps the perpetrator went back and took Archer’s wallet, his credit cards and other identification.’ Letting the suggestion sink in, Handley continued, ‘Or he could have returned later to retrieve incriminating evidence out of Archer’s van. Remember, it was parked at the farm shop. Since the scene was not secured until later we will never know will we Frank?’

  Davies shuffled on his chair. Was he being set up or just grilled, so that in turn, his superior officer would be able to withstand a grilling from even higher?

  ‘That’s all a bit fanciful isn’t it?’

  ‘No Frank, actually I don’t think that it is.’

  Handley raised his eyebrows and leaned back in his chair, closing the folder that had been open in front of him.

  ‘How are you Frank?’ he asked. ‘Have you got anything worrying you?’

  ‘Davies sat up smartly. The question was off the cuff and entirely unexpected.

  ‘Not particularly Arthur,’ he replied. ‘Getting used to married life again is a bit strange after being my own boss for three years, but it’ll settle down soon I suppose. Why do you ask?’

  ‘You’ve seemed a bit edgy,’ said Handley. ‘I thought that it was because you were irritated at doing the conference thing but if there’s anything else on your mind you can discuss it with me you know.’

  ‘I’ve not enjoyed it that’s for sure,’ responded Davies. ‘Let’s face it, doing uniforms job for them isn’t much better than being put on gardening leave is it?’ Warming to the theme he continued, ‘I am a detective Arthur, not a traffic cop or a uniformed plod on the beat.’

  ‘Well, I wouldn’t put it as strong as that,’ replied Handley, holding up a finger to put Davies metaphorically on hold while he took yet another call. ‘Yes, thanks for that,’ he said into the phone, ‘bring it in will you please.’

  Handley once again turned to the two men seated in front of him and changed tack, asking Davies about his meeting with the Home Office men. His attention had now moved to the Ramada Hotel and the perceived risks Davies had identified.

  As Davies started to update Handley, there was a knock on the door and an officer gave the DCI an envelope. ‘Sorry about that,’ he said, ‘do continue Frank.’

  ‘They are genuine concerns Arthur,’ offered Davies. ‘Right across the Marine Lake from the Ramada there are two real opportunities for a marksman to pick off any delegates out on the veranda.’ Making eye contact he added, ‘Yes Arthur, chances to pop off the PM. Afternoon tea or evening dinner on the veranda overlooking the lake is one of the Ramada’s selling points and there’s no way you will stop the likes of the PM and his cronies from doing that. There’s a clear shot from the ocean Plaza retail site and that w
orries me. The Home Office boys saw the risk but the two Merseyside Police officers that werewith them from HQ didn’t seem to understand. It was quite strange. I didn’t understand it really.’

  ‘That maybe so,’ replied Handley, ‘but there are other issues we need to look at. Let’s get back to our main purpose shall we?’ Shuffling his papers again, Handley put one in front of him. ‘Let’s look at the common links between the three deaths for a minute.’

  ‘I don’t think that there are any Arthur.’

  ‘What? No links? What about the same cause of death for all three and the same nationality for two and three?’

  ‘I know what the pathologist said,’ replied Davies, ‘but I think that he’s wrong.’

  Handley gave him his famous chin down, eyebrows raised, furrowed brow and bottom lip held between his teeth look that said ‘you can’t be serious’.

  ‘I think that the first death, Peter Archer, was as the doc said – a heart attack,’ offered Davies. ‘The asphyxia thing is pretty oddball at the best of times and Archer wasn’t into sex games anyway. My hunch is that he stopped off at the farm tea shop on his way to London and just popped his clogs.’

  A quiet onlooker, Radcliffe exchanged glances with Handley. Handley returned his attention to Davies.

  ‘So what about our second death then?’

  ‘It’s the same for the second and the third,’ stated Davies. ‘This asphyxia theory is just that, something dreamed up by the pathologist to give him a bit of fame – you know, the guy who discovered the unknown – but it’s all a bit lame really and those reports are not worth the paper that they are written on because it can’t be proved. No use if we can’t use it is it?’

  Having made his point Davies nodded at Handley and then turned to give Radcliffe a triumphant smile.

  ‘Go on, this is beginning to get fascinating,’ said Radcliffe.

  ‘Once you take out the flaky asphyxia theory there are no links at all.’

  ‘Not even nationality?’ asked Handley.

  ‘That’s just coincidence,’ replied Davies. ‘Just look at them individually. In the first case Archer was found huddled in a derelict fireplace with not a mark on him. Heart attack, pure and simple. The second death, the Polish bloke.’

  ‘Cyrec Krawiec,’ cut in Radcliffe.

  ‘Whatever. Well, that was the most bungled cover-up I’ve ever seen. I’d like a second PM on him, Krawiec or whatever he is called, to establish the cause of death properly. My guess is that there’s a cheated lover somewhere who found some way of bumping him off and tried to make it look like a car accident.’

  ‘So what about the third death?’

  ‘Found at the back of a pub wasn’t he Arthur? As you know, I’ve not done anything on that case, but if I had then I would have been checking all the drinkers in the pub that night. Ten to one there’s an argument somewhere that was settled outside.’ Looking at his superior and his fellow DI, Davies added, ‘No connections at all gentlemen.’

  ‘That’s quite a theory,’ offered Handley. ‘Indeed, it flies in the face of virtually everything that Don has put forward. And the Force Major Incident Team of course.’

  ‘What the hell have MIT got to do with it? I thought that they weren’t taking over until tomorrow?

  ‘That’s right Frank,’ replied Handley, but don’t forget that Don spent a morning in Liverpool justifying our continuing involvement. One of their conditions was that two HQ lads came to help him out.’ Waving some of the papers from in front of him and turning to look at Radcliffe he continued, ‘And they seem to be thinking along the same lines. Why not update us Don?’

  ‘Well, far from being no links, we think that there are lots.’ Directing his response at Davies he continued, ‘The pathology diagnosis isn’t flaky Frank; it is proven and etched in stone. On the face of things the three deaths do look individual but there are several underlying links. They look different because they were supposed to do. Death number one – Peter Archer – was supposed to look like a coronary and it fooled the doc, but the pathologist was brilliant in finding the true cause of death.’

  Handley reached out to prevent Davies butting in as Radcliffe continued.

  ‘Not securing the scene gave the perpetrator the opportunity to remove valuable evidence.’

  ‘Is this a debriefing or a bloody witch hunt?’ burst in Davies. ‘We’ve already gone through this. Get off my back will you? The bloody bloke had a heart attack. End of story.’

  ‘No he didn’t,’ responded Radcliffe. ‘And while the site was unsecured, vital evidence was removed from the body and also his van. How that was all done, the killing and disposal of the body, showed a pretty good understanding of forensics.’

  ‘Oh, I suppose you are going to point the finger at one of the CSI lads, or DS Fraser, or DC Crompton. So now who’s theory is flaky?’

  ‘Cool it Frank,’ advised Handley. ‘These are serious cases and you need to hear Don out.’

  ‘Do I? It looks to me as though despite evidence to the contrary, all three are being bundled together and handed over to the Major Incident Team with yours truly as the scapegoat for failure based on the first scene not being secured immediately. I don’t like that Arthur.’

  ‘I can’t say that I like the situation we have here either Frank,’ responded Handley, but your theory is just that, a theory, while Don has unearthed some real facts. Along with MIT of course. Now, Don, please continue – and Frank, just listen for now please, I’ll give you the opportunity to comment once we all know what we are supposed to be discussing.’

  Davies scowled. Handley sat back, surveying his troops. Radcliffe cleared his throat.

  ‘As I said, Peter Archer’s death showed an awareness of forensics. It looked like a coronary because it was meant to do. The second death, Cyrec Krawiec, followed the same pattern, it looked like a murder dressed up as a bungled car accident because we were supposed to treat it as a separate death and not make any connection between the two. Remember, there were leaks to the media and it was already common knowledge that Archer had not died of natural causes.

  ‘Then the third death. Pawel Lewinelsky was not just the same nationality as Krawiec. As well as that and a common cause of death, his PM threw up traces of oil or grease, as did those of both Krawiec and Archer. So, three common links between all three Frank.’

  Leaning back in his chair and swivelling towards his fellow DI, Radcliffe looked him directly in the eye. ‘This is where it gets interesting Frank,’ he said. ‘From what’s been carried in the papers, particularly in the Drum for which we can thank that little ponce Les Starr, there have been leaks right left and centre. There was some speculation too, but all wrapped up with some solid inside information. As you know, when Arthur gave me the car thefts I didn’t want them. But recently we found some tentative connections with the murders and I got more interested.’

  ‘I can’t sit here and listen to all this drivel,’ burst in Davies. ‘It is as though I am on trial here. In case you two have forgotten, I am a policeman, a detective, a DI for fuck’s sake. I found the identity of Archer and I found out about the reason for the family feud – the guy in London where Archer was supposed to be going,’ pausing to get his breath before continuing. ‘I also gave you the car repair bloke, what’s his name? Wilson. You brought him in and then screwed it up so bad that you had to let him go. Don’t blame me for your failures Don. If I hadn’t been pushed off to the Ramada I would have had that case tied up.’

  Handley looked across at Radcliffe and said just three words ‘Don, continue please.’

  ‘When we raided the Catholic College I expected to find a number of expensive cars and perhaps even some of the people involved. What we actually found were a number of quite legal classic cars belonging to Mr Wilson and somebody pinned underneath a car lift.’

  ‘I know all that Don. I was there – remember? The bloke was close to death. Might even be dead by now from what I hear.’

  Ignoring Davies
comment, Radcliffe continued. ‘Yes Frank, you were there so you know what happened. Other cars had been stored there but they had been removed, along with any evidence, no doubt as a result of yet another leak.’

  ‘Are you trying to fit me up with that as well?’

  ‘We’ve heard your theory Frank,’ said Handley. ‘Now, just hear Don out so that we can discuss everything and move forward. I am not looking for scapegoats, just trying to get to grips with the facts, whatever they may be. I have to present this to MIT and I will not be able to do that if I do not know as much about these cases as possible. You’ve been on the conference plan for a couple of days Frank, so just let Don update us on what’s been happening while you have been drinking coffee down by the Marine Lake. Go on Don please.’

  ‘Like I said, you were at the college bust so you know what we found, but we also went out to the farm at Burscough and once again everything had been moved out before we got there. Now that can happen once but twice is either an unbelievable coincidence, a very astute team of car thieves that’s always one step ahead, or another internal leak.’

  ‘They must be astute Don,’ cut in Davies, a big grin on his face. ‘You’ve got to give them that at least. If they can nick and export as many cars as we think then they’ve really got a good organisation and I bet they are watching us all the time like we watch them. I wouldn’t mind betting that the cars are no longer around, for my money they could already be bobbing up and down on the deep blue sea on their way to a wealthy buyer in some Middle East fleshpot.’

  ‘But we weren’t watching them were we? We didn’t know who to watch for a start. But to continue, the oil or grease found at the three PM examinations gave us a potential link between the murders and the car thefts, so we went back to Archer’s caravan site. We’ve found those links Frank. I can’t prove it yet, but it looks as though Peter Archer was involved with the car thefts and paid for that with his life.’