Desperate men with nothing to lose are dangerous and I still had a constant grumble of unease in the pit of my stomach. Grantmore – and this trial – remained my last threat. However, I had rationalised that any allegations he may now throw around would just sound like the fantasies of a man about to get a life sentence. If true, why didn’t he say so when he had the chance in interviews?
On any large-scale crime inquiry, the SIO rarely has to make a court appearance. It is the staff working for you that end up as witnesses. It is they that seize exhibits, interview witnesses and suspects. It is they that must promise “to tell the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth”. It is they that are cross-examined to ensure their story is accurate and honest. I had often thought that very few officers in any complex case actually knew “the whole truth” – they just knew their bit of it. In Regina versus Frame, Keegan and Grantmore, only I knew “the whole truth” and I’d never have to tell it.
So I resolved that there was no more dealing to be done.
As I climbed out of the car, I concentrated on mental images I still held of Graham Morley and how badly I had treated him, and by the time I was at the front gates, about to embark upon the somewhat tortuous security procedures necessary to gain entry, I was almost looking forward to seeing Grantmore’s discomfort and enjoying my continuing role in it.
Twenty minutes later, I was being accompanied by a chatty prison officer through a maze of silent institutional corridors towards the small suite of interview rooms that served the wing on which Grantmore was remanded. As we turned yet another corner, I saw there were extensive refurbishments underway in an area that was clearly given over to classrooms and workshops. There was a team of three replastering walls, with another group redecorating an area where the plaster had dried. Up on some low scaffolding were yet more workmen fitting new electric lights.
‘Been going on weeks this already,’ moaned the warder, ‘and more to come. Reckon they’re going to be here months.’
‘Must be a security nightmare,’ I responded.
‘The prison was only built in 1987 and it’s bloody crumbling already. We’ve got more workmen than prisoners. They start on the cellblocks soon… now that will be a bloody nightmare.’
As if to emphasise the warder’s words, another large group of workmen entered the corridor from one of the classrooms up ahead. They were all carrying the tools of their trade and chatting away. As they walked past, we exchanged nods and smiles of acknowledgement. Recognition flared in my brain and I glanced back to see a slim, athletically built man in pale blue overalls doing likewise. Our eyes met.
My bloody nightmare had begun.
Despite the heavy beard, those cold blue eyes were unmistakeable.
It was the restless, resourceful and ruthless Russ Holland.
about the author
Quentin Dowse joined the police at eighteen and retired as a Chief Superintendent after thirty years extensive experience that included leading numerous major crime and murder investigations. He holds a Master’s Degree in Criminology and has attended the prestigious International Homicide Conference in the USA at which senior investigators share their expertise and knowledge. In 2014 he was approached to work as an ‘investigator’ during the making of a documentary/mystery film - The First Film, in which he appears, outlining the results of his enquiries.
This is Quentin’s first book – it is entirely fictional.
A Duty of Revenge Page 33
