Riddled on the Sands (The Lakeland Murders)

by Salkeld, J J

  ‘How very distressing for him.’

  ‘Do you recognise the stylistic similarities with your own emails?’

  ‘Not at first reading, no. Why, do you?’

  ‘Yes, we do. Our own expert says that it’s perfectly possible that you wrote this letter.’

  Robinson smiled. ‘May I read this report? I have an interest in linguistics. The inevitable result of spending my life among books, I expect.’

  Jane opened her file, and passed the report. It was less than one side of A4 in length. Robinson read it, then read it again. She could see his eyes flicking across the lines, and a slight smile starting to form too. He was home free, and that was the moment that he knew.

  ‘And you’ve gone to all this trouble, and no doubt expense, because of this document?’

  ‘No, not entirely. You must admit that your tone does become increasingly hostile during your email exchange with Mr. Perkins.’

  The smile had faded, and Robinson looked angry now. ‘Young woman, my wife was dying while I was negotiating with Perkins. He knew that perfectly well. The whole business worried her terribly. I tried not to talk to her about it, but she insisted on knowing. But perhaps you’ll do me the courtesy of answering a simple question from me, perhaps even two.’

  ‘Go on.’

  ‘Do the emails, which you claim were written by me, make any threats of any kind against Perkins?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘And does your expert conclude that I am, definitively, the author of the letter that you just showed me?’

  ‘No, he doesn’t reach that precise conclusion. But he does think that you could be the author.’

  It sounded feeble as soon as Jane said it. She needed to take control of the interview.

  ‘What do you think of Mr. Perkins?’

  ‘I barely know the man.’

  ‘Does he represent anything to you then?’

  ‘I’m not sure what you mean.’

  ‘Do you draw any wider conclusions or inferences, based on your interaction with Mr. Perkins?’

  ‘Now that, young woman, is an interesting question.’

  Jane decided to push her luck. ‘And do you have an illuminating answer?’

  ‘Not really. I’m not a profound man. I wish I were. But as one grows older it’s inevitable that one becomes aware of standards slipping, of the world becoming a coarser, uglier place. But I’m sure that you’re far too young to have noticed that yet. But perhaps your colleague has?’ Robinson smiled at Ray Dixon, who hadn’t spoken since he’d been introduced to Robinson.

  ‘I’m old enough to have noticed’ said Jane. ‘Really, I am.’

  ‘Well then, has it ever occurred to you that it might be you that’s changing, rather than the world? That is an alternative explanation, especially because, throughout history, writers and thinkers have made the observation that the world had become a more violent, less attractive place since their youth. And they can’t all have been right, can they?’

  ‘I suppose not. So what’s your point?’

  ‘Simply that it’s very easy to assume that older people have a particular world view, in which they regard change as always being deleterious. But that’s a lazy assumption.’

  ‘So you’re saying that you didn’t dislike Mr. Perkins? That he simply represented a younger generation?’

  ‘I’m not saying that at all. I’m simply saying that I don’t believe that he represents anything.’

  Jane had the strong feeling that she needed to keep Robinson talking, that he was about to open up.

  ‘So you did dislike him?’

  ‘Of course, but purely for what he was. Or rather, what he is. Not as an archetype, but as a human being.’

  ‘So how would you characterise him?’

  ‘I can only form a view based on his business dealings, of course. But I’d say he’s a thief, plain and simple.’

  ‘Because he bought cheaply from you and then sold the merchandise online? That sounds like good business, not theft, to me.’

  ‘No, not because of that. But because he stole from me, he quite literally stole from me. He took a number of signed books, some with dedications to me or my late wife, which I explicitly excluded from the sale. I was very clear on that point. So what is that, if not theft?’

  ‘A mistake perhaps. I didn’t see any emails about this.’

  ‘I telephoned him, and called round to his house in Kendal.’

  ‘So you do know where he lives. And what did he say?’

  ‘He simply lied, and said that he hadn’t taken them. He implied that I was either confused or was trying to defraud him.’

  ‘So what did you do?’

  ‘I came here.’

  ‘To the Police Station?’

  ‘Yes, and I reported the matter. But I was told that it was a civil matter, and that there was nothing that you could do to help.’

  Jane looked at Ray. ‘Can you remember the name of the officer who said this to you?’

  ‘No. It was just the person at the desk. He was in uniform.’

  ‘So did you take any further action?’

  ‘I spoke to my solicitor, and she said that the best approach was to watch for any of my items coming up for sale, and then we could take action against the vendor.’

  ‘And have any come up for sale?’

  ‘No, not one. I have searched online every single day since that meeting, and none have turned up.’

  ‘And what conclusion do you draw from that?’

  ‘It’s what I would have expected. He knew that the books weren’t his. I expect he was waiting for me to die, and then he’d have sold them.’

  ‘How do you know that he hadn’t disposed of them already?’

  ‘Because I know the book trade, and he doesn’t. I know who he’d have approached, and he hasn’t made contact with any of the dealers who matter. They’d see the dedications, and know they were my books. I’m certain of it.’

  ‘And what’s the value of these books?’

  ‘To whom?’

  Jane smiled. ‘I take your point. What is their open market value?’

  ‘Quite substantial. My collection of Eliot alone, including a number of very rare editions, many signed, would be in excess of £50,000.’

  ‘How much?’

  ‘That’s what Perkins said. But their value isn’t important. I had intended to leave the whole collection to my wife’s old college, in her name. Perkins took my opportunity to do that away from me.’

  ‘So you think that the books were destroyed in the fire?’

  ‘I couldn’t say. Perhaps he has them stored elsewhere.’

  ‘Do you hope that he does?’

  Robinson took his time before answering.

  ‘Of course I do. I’d like them back, but perhaps not as much as you think I might. They’re only books, after all.’

  ‘But you wanted to punish Mr. Perkins for what he did?’

  ‘No. I wanted Mr. Perkins to be punished. That’s a very different thing.’

  ‘And why didn’t you mention this alleged theft to us earlier? This isn’t the first time that we’ve spoken, after all.’

  ‘Because, as I’ve already told you, I had reported it. I saw no point in doing so again.’

  ‘So it wasn’t because you recognised that the alleged theft was a motive for you to both send threatening letters to Mr. Perkins, and also to commit arson?’

  ‘No. I appreciate that you probably regard me as some kind of relic, from the age of the printed page and the tinkle of the shop bell, but I had rather assumed that even the modern Police Officer had a duty to at least make note of any reported crime, even if they do nothing to follow it up. So I rather thought that you already knew. But perhaps I am mistaken?’

  ‘No, you’re not mistaken. Your complaint certainly should have been logged, and if it had been I would have known. It was our mistake. So, just for the record, you’re denying sending the letter that I showed you earlier?’

&nb
sp; ‘I am. Though, if you’ll forgive me, aren’t you making rather a sizable assumption?’

  ‘That whoever sent the letters also set fire to the garage? Doesn’t that seem likely to you?’

  ‘I’m sure you know more about these matters than I do. And it’s not what I was referring to. All I meant was that, if Perkins dealt with other people as he did with me, then there’s every chance that he has numerous enemies. Any one of whom could have sent that letter.’

  ‘I see. And you also deny that you set fire to Mr. Perkins’ store, is that the case?’

  ‘I do. Indeed I do.’

  Jane sat back. ‘Let me ask you something, Mr. Robinson. Do you think that Mr. Perkins will suffer any further attacks in the future?’

  ‘How could I possibly know that?’

  Jane and Ray sat and watched Robinson. Neither of them spoke.

  ‘Is this interview over?’ he asked, eventually.

  Jane went through the formalities and turned off the recorder.

  ‘If I were to hazard a guess’ said Robinson, as he got up, ‘I’d say that Mr. Perkins has nothing to fear in the future. And tell me, will you try to find my books?’

  ‘I understand. And in terms of finding your books, I can’t make any promises. Send us a list of what’s missing, and photos if you have them, plus details of the inscriptions and dedications, and we will circulate them. So if your books turn up in any legitimate saleroom, at any point in the future, we will know about it, and will be able to prevent sale pending further investigation.’

  ‘I’m grateful.’

  ‘There’s no need. It’s just the correct procedure, the due process, if you like. I’m just sorry that it seems not to have been followed in the first instance.’

  ‘Apology accepted.’

  ‘I wasn’t apologising to you, Mr. Robinson.’

  Robinson nodded briefly, and walked slowly out of the room.

  Ian Mann didn’t jump when Jimmy Rae opened the door of the truck, but Rachel Skinner did.

  ‘Shit’ she said, quickly turning her computer keyboard upside down to drain the spilled coffee from it as quickly as she could. ‘Where did you spring from?’

  ‘It’s his party piece’ said Mann, smiling, as he got up to introduce them. ‘So I take it you have news?’

  ‘I do’ said Jimmy. ‘The target vessel is leaving a northern European port as we speak, and it could be here by noon tomorrow. But for obvious reasons we think that the drop, if it’s made, will happen at night. Looking at the tide tables, and assuming they do want to operate in darkness, then it could be anytime between about half eleven and half three on Thursday morning.’

  ‘Do you know if the same personnel are involved?’

  ‘Not for certain, but it seems likely. Our continental colleagues have been monitoring the vessel closely, and as far as we can tell the same people are on board as made the aborted drop last month.’

  ‘Do you know their identities?’

  ‘Some of them. We’ve got a pretty good idea of who the shooters were likely to have been. No British nationals, although we may have trained one of them, a number of years ago. They certainly are people who should be taken seriously.’

  ‘How do they get the stuff ashore?’

  ‘They’ve got a high-end rib, plus a back-up. Big carrying capacity, lots of horsepower. Very similar to the kit we use ourselves, in fact. I’d suggest that we work on the assumption that they’ll be five or six up for the drop. That leaves them room for a couple of hundred kilos of cargo at least. So that’s my news. But what about you? Do you know who’s going to be making the collection run?’

  ‘The short answer is no’ said Mann. ‘There are about a dozen serviceable tractors left in the village, and three or four blokes who go out fishing regularly.’

  ‘We know. We’ve been keeping a close eye on all of them for days. No suspicious activity.’

  ‘And I take it that your plan is to be out on the sand tomorrow night?’

  ‘Some of us, yes. We’ll follow the tide out on foot, and then make ourselves comfortable, and wait.’ Rae smiled at Rachel. ‘I did have a suggestion as to how we might manage this little collaboration.’

  ‘Go on’ said Mann. He’d been waiting for this.

  ‘We will know when the rib is in the water, and that will be outside our territorial waters. We’ll therefore have about two hours from that moment, plus or minus ten minutes, before they’ll be looking to make the offload. Judging by the time that the fishermen usually take to get out onto the sands, and allowing an extra fifteen minutes for them to travel further out, we think that the tractor involved will leave Flookburgh about an hour and five or ten minutes after the rib is in the water.’

  ‘OK, so what’s the plan?’

  ‘Given that it’ll be mid-week, and a late low tide, we don’t expect any fishermen to be out. They certainly weren’t two weeks ago in similar conditions. So our proposal is that you detain the driver of whichever tractor moves, and that one of us replaces him, with a couple more of the lads on the trailer.’

  ‘And I suppose it would be you who drives the tractor?’

  ‘Yes, Ian, it would be me.’

  ‘But how do you know what a safe route is? Couldn’t you get stuck?’

  ‘It’s possible, but I’m confident that it won’t happen. I’ve spent a lot of time out there over the last few weeks, and always at night. But if we should get stuck, and not reach the rendezvous point, then our lads on the ground, plus another group in our own rib, will complete the mission. But I’m pretty sure that I can avoid the danger areas.’

  ‘But how will you know where to go?’

  ‘I’ll make for the previous rendezvous point, and adjust from there if I need to.’

  Mann nodded. ‘But where do we fit in? I thought this was going to be a collaborative mission.’

  ‘Of course it is, Ian, but it’s a question of having people with the right skills in the right places.’

  ‘And that’s keeping all our lads on the shore, is it?’

  ‘I don’t see why a couple of your armed officers shouldn’t come out on the trailer, if that’s any help. But they’d be well advised to stay there, because as you know we’ll seek to disorientate and confuse the smugglers should they show any signs of resistance.’

  ‘OK, two of our armed officers on the trailer. And I want to go out on foot with your lads.’

  Rae smiled. ‘Ian, as one old soldier to another, I don’t think that’s wise. The spirit is willing, I wouldn’t doubt that for one second, but you’ve been out of all this for a long time now, mate. You could be lying in mud, in the pitch dark, for three or four hours, and the other lads’ safety would be completely in your hands.’

  ‘I’ll be fine. I did do it for six years, Jimmy.’

  Rae didn’t look convinced. ‘Of course you did. But I can’t see what you could do anyway, especially if something kicks off out there. I assume that you won’t be armed?’

  ‘Nothing to stop me carrying stun grenades, thunder-flashes, anything else you might need, is there? Ropes, spades, anything.’

  ‘Half a canoe?’

  Mann smiled. ‘If I must.’

  ‘All right then, you’re on. Humphrey Head at 2200 tomorrow night, unless anything changes in the meantime. And just let me know if you change your mind. Me and the lads won’t think any the less of you.’

  Mann burst out laughing, and Rae followed suit. They both knew it would never happen.

  ‘You’ll be all right, Ian. Just do what the lads say, and keep your head down if and when the fun starts.’

  Jane Francis was trying to keep out of Andy Hall’s way, because she had something to think about. And until 4pm it wasn’t difficult, because if Hall wasn’t closeted with the Super he was in his office with Vic Osman, the door very firmly closed behind them. She didn’t hear any laughter either, which told her for certain that the Bell/Capstick investigation was coming to a head somehow.

  She was hoping to m
ake it to the end of the shift, because at home they’d be on an equal footing, but at half-four her luck finally ran out. Osman had gone, and Andy Hall walked over to her desk.

  ‘I wanted to catch up with you on the Perkins case. I haven’t seen an update to the file since you saw Robinson this morning. So did you get anything out of him?’

  ‘He thinks that Perkins stole some rare books from him, Seriously valuable rare books.’

  ‘Great. There’s your motive then. So you’re going to suggest that we go for it, I take it?’

  ‘No, I’m not.’ Hall waited for Jane to elaborate, but she didn’t.

  ‘This isn’t like you. Normally you’d be beating my door down, demanding that the CPS request the re-introduction of the death penalty, or transportation at the very least.’

  Jane’s mouth smiled, but her eyes didn’t. ‘It isn’t quite that easy.’

  ‘How so?’ Hall thought about it for a moment. ‘Have you dropped a brick?’

  ‘No, of course not. But you’re on the right lines.’

  ‘Who? Not Ray? Tell me it’s not Ray. And after I got him a stay of execution, too.’

  ‘It’s not. It’s uniform.’

  Jane told Hall what Robinson had said.

  ‘Shit. And it’s true as well, I expect?’

  ‘Yes. I found it on the station CCTV, no problem. It was Phil Matthews on the desk.’

  ‘Oh, bloody hell. He’s on a written warning, isn’t he?’

  ‘That’s the word on the street. And you know what that means.’

  ‘It’s completely true, because someone in personnel forgot to lock their filing cabinet again’

  ‘Exactly. There are some naughty policemen about.’

  ‘So what do you want me to do?’ asked Hall ‘Grass Matthews up? He’s an idle bastard, and it must have been the Super’s idea of a joke to put him on the front desk in the first place. He’s the least helpful person I know.’

  ‘I don’t think the Super has a sense of humour, does she?’

  ‘Apparently she laughed when a drunk slipped over in his own sick the other night. God knows why she was poking around down in the custody area at that time though.’