He was lost in these thoughts when his eyes were drawn to a cheap-looking white handbag sitting on top of the breadbin. Frame had given Stella the cash to buy them a steak and she had obviously not taken her handbag with her. Could there be a mobile phone in there? But how the hell could he check it out? Next to the breadbin was the kettle and so without thinking too much about it, Holland walked to the kettle, picked it up and walked to the back door, which was ajar.
‘Another cuppa, lads?’
Both men paused in their conversation but nodded in agreement.
Holland filled the kettle while looking out of the kitchen window above the sink, grinning amiably at the two men. He replaced the kettle and switched it on, and with his back to them, he rifled quickly through the handbag. He was in luck. He shoved the small red Nokia into his jean’s pocket and then made the tea.
From the kitchen he shouted, ‘It’s mashing, lads. Just need a quick slash.’
He casually shut the back door and went into the hall, looking for the toilet. He knew making a call was too risky, as he anticipated Frame soon getting suspicious and coming looking for him. He could all too easily overhear. His army training had made him memorise Darnley’s number and while waiting for the kettle to boil, he had composed a succinct text in his head. He locked the toilet door as he pulled the phone from his pocket, sat on the toilet seat and prayed there was not a security setting applied to the little mobile. He needn’t have worried; the phone remained blank – its battery was dead.
Thirty-Three
16:00 That Same Afternoon
I had always hated travelling in a speeding car and doing well over a ton was most definitely speeding. Add to that the incessant whine of the siren and I was finding it almost impossible to concentrate on the conversation. Soon after the second call from our female informant, Tom Corrigan had insisted he should return to his own force area where it now looked more likely the action was going to be. We had barely started to try and convince my senior officers that I should accompany him, when the female caller had rung again about seeing the three men in the Jaguar. Only minutes after that, Northumbria Control informed Tom Corrigan about the officer being run over by the Jag, and then it being discovered burnt out nearby. It was also confirmed that the Jag had contained three men. Ten minutes later, the officer leading the search at Pike’s house rang and we learnt the identity of our anonymous female caller.
Debbie Pike had returned home shortly after the copper had been run over and was now under arrest based upon handwritten notes the search had revealed in her underwear drawer, which described many aspects of the crimes under investigation. Despite kicking off and biting the female officer trying to search her, she had eventually calmed down and told the officers how she had been ringing in anonymously. She was also claiming Frame and Keegan had murdered her husband, and seemed desperate to tell all she knew. Her mother had collected her children and she was now on her way to Clifford Street Police Station in Newcastle. Events were moving rapidly and Tom was absolutely correct; we needed to be up there.
We were now within half an hour of the nick where Debbie was being held; keen to hear more about what she was saying. Tom and I were sitting in the back of a marked traffic car, driven by a Class 1 driver who was clearly keen to show us his skills. We were accompanied by Tom’s DI, who judging by the way he kept flinching, as our driver made yet another dodgy overtake, was as scared as me. A following traffic car contained DC Beatty and two of his Humberside colleagues. Whatever happened now, both forces needed to work collaboratively. I’d chosen DC Beatty due to his initial contact with Debbie Pike, hoping he could build on their initial rapport when he formally interviewed her.
Before we left Driffield, Tom had organised a covert surveillance operation on The Blaydon Races. Forensic teams were examining Debbie’s home and the burnt-out Jaguar. We had left ACC Greenhall and the Chief debating the wisdom of calling off the surveillance operation in Humberside. The search for Grantmore had run out of steam, as Debbie Pike’s claim that Frame had murdered her husband led most to be convinced he was now with Frame and Keegan.
A heavy agricultural vehicle, travelling at a steady sixty, overtaking a large removal lorry, was blocking our progress up the outside lane of the A1, despite the blue lights and sirens. Tom Corrigan was trying his best to summarise the situation over the racket. This was not solely to make sure we were both fully up to speed with the rapid developments in the case, but also to agree tactics over the next few hours.
‘You seem adamant that our third gang member is not this bloke Grantmore. How can you be sure?’ he asked for about the fifth time.
‘I’m not being defensive, Tom. I know I’ve cocked up and read him wrong. He’s clearly more involved with Frame than he’s admitted, and although I can see he’d supply the driver, like he did Emmerson, it’s just not his style to take part. I can’t be sure… but I’d lay money on it.’
He sat musing on the point when a message came over the car’s radio informing him that the three men’s army records had been located and were en route to Clifford Street Police Station.
‘That should quickly get us some new addresses to search.’
He used the radio, instructing that this was to be a priority.
‘And photographs,’ I added. ‘We get to know what these two bastards look like at last. They’re going to have aged a bit and maybe grown their hair… or beards… but it’s a start.’
He looked at his watch. ‘We need to get the photos circulated to all patrols as soon as possible… and if we’re quick… we could get them on the local evening news. We have got to do all we can to stop this crime happening.’
‘Seeing their mug shots on the telly might put them off doing the job… too risky for them? But I guess that would be a result too,’ I suggested.
‘‘That’s not going to happen,’ asserted Corrigan, ‘they’re desperate… they’ve just run a copper over. They’ve killed three times and if the lass is right, they’re planning to escape the country using the trawler… and kill Grantmore, if he is with them. They’re not going to stop now. They’re going to carry out whatever it is they’re planning, so we’ve got to get to them first. If we don’t, and someone gets hurt and we never used the photos, we’ll be crucified.’
He was spot on.
But then he added, ‘We’ve got to use Grantmore’s photo as well… for those same reasons.’
‘I agree about Frame and Keegan and it’s your call… it’s your area. But leave out Grantmore’s description and photo, as if people see three blokes and one hasn’t got a disfigured face and one eye, they might rule them out.’
‘On the other hand, if he is with them, he is so distinctive it makes identification easier. With what we have been told, I don’t think we’ve got a choice.’
He was right. We had no choice. Logic kept telling me the third man was Holland but the reality was, I no longer knew. If it was, and he managed to extricate himself from this bloody mess, all the stops would be out to find the third man, who everyone believed was Grantmore. I was fucked whatever happened.
‘You’re right, Tom. I still don’t think he’s with them… but do it.’
Tom rang his local contact at Tyne Tees TV to set it up.
While he talked, I seriously considered telling him all about Holland – the truth – so at least we could work out together how the hell to proceed. But I’d never even spoken to the bloke until that week and I had no idea how he would respond. I figured there’d be no way I’d cover up for him if the boot were on the other foot, so I quickly ruled that option out. I thought back to my first vision of Russ Holland catapulting himself at Grantmore in Hull Crown Court and how I manipulated his caution. All this bloody mess just from a simple and honest desire to see justice done. Where the hell did I stand with justice now?
The car sped on.
*
For abou
t the tenth time in as many minutes, I checked my watch. It was still just after 7pm. Despite Holland’s insistence that I never try and contact him, I’d tried. But his mobile didn’t even ring out. I hoped that Grantmore’s TV appearance might just have shocked him into action – but he wasn’t answering either. Tyne Tees had been all too eager to carry the story – with photographs and names – of the armed gang believed to be about to commit a robbery somewhere in the Newcastle area that very night. Tom Corrigan had appeared on the programme and appealed for the public to be vigilant, emphasising the dangerous nature of the three men, stressing that no one should approach them but report any suspicions by ringing 999. The full story had also been aired on Look North because of the connections to the Humberside area, so the jungle drums would be sounding back in Hull amongst Grantmore’s cronies. What the hell would he be making of it all?
DC Beatty and a DS from Corrigan’s team had been interviewing Debbie Pike, armed with the notes she had made, for over an hour and I was desperate to know what she had said. I pulled my mobile from my pocket, intending to try both men again but before I could punch out the numbers, it vibrated to show an incoming call. I dared to hope – but the screen showed it was from the incident room in Driffield. It was Tony Ride.
‘You sitting down, boss?’ He sounded worried. ‘Just had a phone call from an immigration officer at King George Dock in Hull who says he saw Grantmore’s mug shot on Look North tonight and recognised him immediately as a man he checked onto last night’s P&O ferry to Amsterdam. He’d actually advised him to have his passport photo changed because of his recent eye and facial injuries. He’s checked the manifest and he’s right… it was Grantmore. So the news bulletin showing him with Frame and Keegan is bloody wrong.’
I didn’t know what to say. I had facilitated his escape by granting him bail. My arguments for doing so had already been rubbished by the Chief – and now he had fled the country. They would hang me out to dry. What did Debbie Pike know about him? What would she add to the story? And we knew there had been three blokes in the car when the copper got run over, so Holland must still be with them.
‘Bloody hell, Tony, I’ve dropped a right bollock there, haven’t I? Reckon I’ll be in traffic by Monday.’ I tried to maintain the Darnley image but Tony Ride would have known that at that moment I was devastated.
He didn’t laugh.
‘Anyway, get the bloke’s statement. We’ll track him down eventually. One-eyed, scar-faced Hull pimps are pretty thin on the ground. I did try to persuade Corrigan not to put Grantmore’s picture up with the others… least I’ve been right about something.’ I tried to laugh. ‘Any more good news?’
‘Lots of stuff recovered from Grantmore’s house and his two knocking shops… some of it might be relevant. There’s a shirt and a towel with what looks like bloodstains… they’ll need analysing. Also, another one of his girls that Jo Young interviewed today… Cheryl… has just rung in. She’s just seen Frame’s photo on the telly and recognises him. Says he was in Cleopatra’s last week causing trouble and they had to send for Grantmore. She and the manager Pauline only overheard their conversation but reckon Frame gave Grantmore five grand, and it sounded like Frame had a gun. Jo’s back there now, getting statements. With this and the links to Priestley, evidence against Grantmore is growing.’
‘That’s excellent.’ I tried to sound positive but the more the evidence amassed against Grantmore, the worse I looked.
‘Any idea of the target at your end, boss? Or where they might be?’
‘Not as yet… and the public are now looking for three men, one of whom we’ve said has facial scars and one eye. We’ve got addresses for Frame and Keegan now from their army files but there’s no one at either house. We’re searching them now.’
‘What about our anonymous caller? Anything fresh?’
I quickly summarised what extra we knew from the search of her home – the recovered notes and her insistence that Frame and Keegan had killed her husband.
‘Still no sign of Morley this end. That’s five days now and Pete Granger is going ballistic about it. I think tomorrow we are going to have to step up the search for him.’
Shit. It had been right there in front of me but I’d been focussed elsewhere. The coincidence of the abrupt disappearance of Morley and now his schoolboy nemesis fleeing the country? A bloodstained shirt? At that moment, I felt totally unable to articulate or even accept my fears, so I said nothing. I felt drained and ashamed, floundering in events that were spiralling out of control.
Ridey made some suggestions about what else we could do to locate him, and I could only agree we would take positive steps after tonight’s situation was resolved. Trying desperately to gather my thoughts, I told him to keep six officers on duty, until I ordered a stand-down, just in case tonight’s events demanded actions resolving in Humberside. I ended the call and slumped in the chair, exhausted and bereft of all ideas.
Before I could regain any equilibrium, DC Beatty appeared at the door of the spare office I’d been using and summoned me to Tom Corrigan’s office for a debriefing on the interview with Debbie Pike. Without words, I followed him down the corridor. Tom was sitting behind his desk, which, when compared to mine back in Hull, was remarkably tidy. Graham Beatty’s fellow interviewer, a Northumbrian DS, was sitting on one of three chairs clearly set out for the meeting. Tom indicated the chairs for Graham and me, then asked his DS to update us.
‘It’s where to start, boss? Basically, she’s shit-scared of Frame who she is convinced has murdered her husband Billy Pike, and she’s now doing everything she can to make sure he goes to prison. We can’t shut her up. As you know, she’s even kept notes of what her husband and Frame have said and done. A lot of what she’s written we should be able to corroborate. A good example is a note of the blue Jag and its number she says she made this morning when she saw Keegan pick Frame up at her house… we know that’s true. But she’s also made notes of conversations that we can’t ever corroborate… but they are fantastic… and me and Graham believe her.’
DC Beatty was nodding enthusiastically.
Corrigan also nodded. ‘Go on.’
The two interviewers grinned at each other and it was obvious that there were some revelations to come.
‘Well, the longest set of her notes are the first ones. In them, she describes how Billy broke down and confessed to her that he’d shot Ryan Harrod. What she’s written matches what we know, boss… it’s got to be genuine.’
Beatty couldn’t help but chip in: ‘She also describes how Billy told her that Frame shot Emmerson. He wasn’t there… Billy wasn’t on that job, that’s why they used Emmerson… but Keegan told him about it… he saw it… and Frame almost bragged about it.’
All four of us knew that using what Billy had told his wife as evidence in court was fraught with difficulty. He was dead. Billy could never stand in court to be cross-examined – it was what is called hearsay evidence. However, it gave us lots of information to work with and opportunities to corroborate what she said, or saw, with facts, other witnesses and admissions from Frame or Keegan.
The two officers then went over in detail what Debbie Pike had told them about her husband and his two colleagues and what she knew about their crimes. She had described how the men had talked about clothing, money and a weapon hidden on Keegan’s trawler. She was adamant that Frame and Keegan had teamed up with a man called Grantmore from Hull, and that the three of them intended to carry out what she assumed was another robbery somewhere in or around Newcastle that night. They believed her when she said that she had no clue about the nature of the crime or where it would take place. To my relief, she had not seen the man Grantmore, or indeed any third man, who she thought was tonight’s driver.
By the end of their briefing, we were convinced that we had a star witness and this was a massive step forward. They were confident that she was tough enough to stand
up in court and swear to what she knew. However, we all knew her word alone would never be enough, but she had given us lots we should be able to corroborate. The Blaydon Races sounded a promising first step and we had that covered.
I waited until they had imparted all they knew before I divulged the embarrassing information I had been given about Grantmore leaving the country. I obviously took no satisfaction at being right about him not being the driver. Tom similarly made no comment about my disastrous decision to grant him bail. Professional – and still mates.
We sent the officers back to continue interviewing Debbie under caution as a suspect, seeking further information, while reassuring her that the police station was the safest place for her until we arrested Frame and Keegan, and that we would endeavour to reunite her with her children as quickly as we could. Tom and I had a brief discussion about whether or not we would ultimately have to charge her with any crimes – a lot would depend on what Frame and Keegan may allege, when and if they gave their side of things. Ideally, we wanted to treat her as a witness, while negating any allegations at a subsequent trial that she was giving false information to save her own neck. But these were decisions for further along the investigation and would need to involve the Crown Prosecution Service. For now, ‘keep her sweet and talking’ was the instruction, and the two interviewers returned enthusiastically to their task.
After they had left, Tom rose from behind his desk and strolled around his office while I filled him in on the latest news from Humberside. As I told him about the bloodstained shirt and Frame being at Grantmore’s parlour with a gun and giving him money, he clenched his fists enthusiastically.
A Duty of Revenge Page 29
