Riddled on the Sands (The Lakeland Murders)

by Salkeld, J J

  ‘But you see my problem?’

  ‘I do. Let me ask you something, Jane. If we grass Matthews up, would that allow us to charge Robinson? And I assume he did do it, torch the garage I mean?’

  ‘No it wouldn’t, and yes he bloody did. He as good as told us so too, the cheeky old bastard. Waited until the tape was off, then said that Perkins didn’t have anything to worry about in future. I was tempted to nick him on the spot.’

  Hall thought about it. ‘OK, here’s how you play it. Absolutely straight, but don’t go out of your way to grass up Matthews. The Super’s like the rest of us, she has her eyes on what’s happening at Flookburgh, because it’s a bloody health and safety nightmare already, and Jimmy’s lads haven’t even locked and loaded yet. God help us when they do. Anyway, that strange civilian risk assessment bloke came down from HQ to see her this morning, and told her precisely why we couldn’t try to make arrests on tidal sands, at night, and when the suspects are likely to be armed.’

  ‘No shit, Sherlock. The H&S police thought it might be a bit risky?’

  ‘They virtually had to carry him out when she told him to get stuffed, clutching his clip-board he was, with this haunted expression. But good on Val, she told him that it was our job, and we’d be getting on with it, whatever forms he did or didn’t sign off on. But anyway, what I mean is that you might slip this one in, under the radar. If I were you I’d look to get it on the system tomorrow night, about nine-ish would be good. If you can’t charge Robinson I just can’t see any point in taking down one of our own, even if he is a useless, idle bastard. And if you did then you’d never hear the end of it from all our other useless, idle bastards.’

  ‘Why nine? Is that when we expect it to kick off out on the Bay?’

  ‘Yes, soon after then. We’ll be ready then, anyway. But of course even if you get away with it that doesn’t solve the other two problems.’

  ‘What problems?’

  ‘What do we do about Matthews, and what do we do about Robinson?’

  ‘Can you have a word with Matthews?’

  ‘I certainly can, and I will. I need to let the lazy berk know what’s probably happened because he couldn’t be arsed to do his job, and that if he gets tumbled he’s on his own. I’m not having you getting caught up in any of this. It’s just not your problem, Jane.’

  ‘OK, thanks. But what about Robinson?’

  ‘Yes, he’s more interesting, isn’t he? You got nothing from the search?’

  ‘Nothing incriminating, no.’

  ‘And his clothes, shoes, car have all come back clean?’

  ‘Absolutely. He’s got an empty petrol can, but that’s not proof of anything.’

  ‘But you’re still sure it was him?’

  ‘Absolutely. Like you say, he had a solid motive all right. And he’s clever. He would have got rid of all the clothes he was wearing when he did it. It’s not hard to work out how he did it. All he had to do was come in to Kendal via the lanes, keep away from the town centre CCTV, leave his car at the bottom of the lane, pour on the petrol and strike a match. Easy.’

  ‘And you don’t think he’ll try anything else?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Sure?’

  ‘Not absolutely, but like you always say, Andy, how can any of us ever be completely sure of anything?’

  ‘Did I say that? What a cynical old DI I’ve become. OK, well your Mr. Robinson sounds well worth one more chat.’

  ‘Honestly, Andy, you’ll get nowhere. He’s not going to confess, I promise you that.’

  ‘I’m sure you’re right, but that’s not why we’ll go and see him. We’ll go and see him to tell him just exactly what will happen if John Perkins so much as develops a very, very slight head cold at any point in the future. I want him to be absolutely clear about that.’

  Thursday, 4th July

  Ian Mann had slept at home, in his own bed, and he didn’t feel remotely guilty about it. He was a policeman, not a soldier. But as he thought about the night ahead he felt some of the old feelings, that strange cocktail of anticipation and fear, like taking an exam at gunpoint.

  He went for a run before his shower, listening to the dry thunder in the distance. And as he drove to Grange the long drought was finally brought to a spectacular end by a huge storm. His wipers were a blur on the windscreen, he couldn’t hear the radio for the sound of rain hammering on the roof, and the road ahead looked like a black river. The lay-bys he passed were full of motorists sitting and waiting for the storm to pass, but Mann kept going. He told himself it was because he’d calculated that it was because it was safer to keep moving than be stopped, but he knew that wasn’t why at all. It was because he was re-adjusting himself to risk, including the greatest risks of all. That he might not live through the operation, or worse that his actions might cause the death of a colleague.

  Rachel Skinner was waiting for him in the truck, and Superintendent Osman was there too. It was stiflingly hot inside, and no-one tried to say anything until the storm had passed, beyond a bellowed greeting.

  ‘We’re on tonight’ Osman said, as they stood by the open back door of the truck, watching the water stream across the concrete farmyard. ‘We think the cash may have already changed hands, and the vendors have provided some sort of security to guarantee delivery of the drugs. A hostage maybe, we don’t know. Either way, the money was all scooped up yesterday. The street dealers can’t even give change apparently, so they’re doing two-for-a-tenner deals and all sorts today.’

  ‘But there’s still no indication where the stuff will come ashore?’

  ‘Not a word. Our man is only mid-level in their organisation, but even so you’d be surprised how much he usually gets to know. Because these bastards don’t graft for a living they’ve got all the time in the world to gossip, so they usually shoot their mouths off at every opportunity, but this time he’s heard nothing. The cash is for a mega-buy, from a new connection, but that’s all he knows. There’s been some suggestion that the seller is eastern European, but that’s all pretty vague. Do our friends in the bushes know any more?’

  ‘No, not really. They’ve identified a couple of the gang members, and they’re pretty international. One is an Australian, but most are from Eastern Europe. Oh yes, and at least one is connected with the intelligence community.’

  ‘Whose?’

  Mann shook his head. ‘Jimmy either doesn’t know or he’s not saying. More likely the latter.’

  The rain was thundering down on the top of the truck again now, and Mann thought he could pick out a rhythm, but the moment faded.

  ‘I do wish they’d share properly with us’ said Osman, raising his voice. ‘Our people are going to be right in the middle of this tonight, Ian, including you. And I know we’ll have more people on the shore, ready to get out to help if needed, but that all takes time. It worries me, I’ll admit it. How do you reckon it’ll play out?’

  ‘Hard to say, obviously. But given that they aborted on the night that Jack Bell was killed they could react in the same way, and just get back in their boat and scarper. They won’t get far of course, because some of Jimmy’s mates will be waiting this time, and there’ll be a frigate around somewhere as well, no doubt, but they won’t know that.’

  ‘So you don’t think they’ll make a fight of it, then?’

  ‘I didn’t say that. If they’ve been sampling some of the product they’re delivering, which is likely, then who’s to say what they’ll do? It only takes one of them to pull the trigger and the rest might as well follow suit.’

  ‘Why?’ asked Rachel.

  ‘Because if Jimmy’s boys return fire they won’t stop until no-one on the other side presents a threat, whether they’re shooting or not. It would all be over in a few seconds, and frankly our chances of getting anyone in the dock for Bell or Capstick is small, going on nil. Jimmy’s boys won’t hesitate, and they won’t miss, even if all hell is breaking loose around them. That’s what they train for.’

 
; ‘Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that’ said Osman. ‘Realistically there’ll only be one person of any seniority on their side on that delivery run anyway, the rest will just be soldiers. Ian, do you think that they’ll have been briefed on what to do if we are waiting? Will they have been given instructions in advance, I mean?’

  Mann smiled. ‘Now that, sir, is the two hundred kilo question, isn’t it? We’ve spent the last forty-eight hours talking through scenarios, looking at exactly where we’ll be relative to the target rib or whatever they’re using. There’s not much moon tonight, and the forecast is bad, so I’m hoping that we will get very close to the gang before they realise there’s something wrong. My only real concern is lightning.’

  ‘Someone getting hit?’

  ‘Possibly, but more that me and Jimmy’s other guys might get spotted before we get the chance to make the arrests. Because if we don’t do it, clean and fast, it’ll be down to Jimmy’s mates offshore.’

  ‘Couldn’t we just nick their tractor driver, and not bother going out onto the sand? And just let Jimmy’s boys intercept the boat on the way in?’ asked Rachel. ‘Because I can’t see that we’re ever going to get a conviction for the Jack Bell killing, even if the weapons are recovered.’

  ‘That’s what Jimmy and his lads wanted us to do’ said Osman. ‘But their objectives are different from ours, aren’t they? But Andy Hall wants to make arrests, and he wants to get convictions for the murders, not just the drugs. And the Chief agrees, which is what matters to us. So we’re going for the arrests, and that’s that.’

  ‘Aye’ said Mann, ‘and look at it this way. If this was a typical drugs deal, car-to-car in some inner city industrial estate, then we’d look to nick them at the meet. This is no different, really.’

  ‘Except that you’ll be on a dead flat, hundred and fifty square mile car park in the middle of a thunderstorm with quicksand all around, and an incoming tide as well’ said Rachel.

  ‘Aye’ said Mann, smiling, ‘except for all that.’ Suddenly he was starting to look forward to his night’s work.

  Andy Hall was glad to be driving over with Jane to talk to Miles Robinson. He was glad to be with her, especially because her mood seemed better this morning, and he was glad to be doing some routine police work. It was the kind of thing that didn’t show up in the stats, but that didn’t mean to say that it didn’t matter. Because Hall had to decide if he agreed with Jane that Robinson wouldn’t re-offend.

  He agreed with Jane that Robinson had almost certainly set fire to Perkins’ garage. He’d looked at a few of his emails to Perkins, and they did feel similar to the letter; old fashioned and formal. Then there was the close physical proximity, the two men lived little more than ten miles apart, and the strong motive that Robinson clearly had, but which he hadn’t disclosed voluntarily. He did it all right, but he’d been clever, or lucky, and there was no realistic chance of a conviction, unless Robinson confessed. And that wasn’t going to happen. So without any forensic evidence, and without a single eye-witness, there was no logical reason to continue the investigation. Unless, of course, Hall judged that Robinson was likely to re-offend.

  The old man actually seemed pleased to see them, and treated Jane as if she was a much-loved but rarely seen niece.

  ‘An Inspector of Police’ he said, when they were seated in three wing-backed chairs in Robinson’s living room. ‘What can I do for you?’

  ‘I wanted to ask you why you didn’t pursue the matter of the alleged theft of your books more vigorously at the time’ said Hall. ‘If I had been in your position I think I would have asked to see a more senior officer. If you had, then the matter would certainly have been taken seriously.’

  ‘You looked at the list of books, then?’

  ‘I did.’

  ‘Have you read any of them?’

  ‘Yes, some.’

  Robinson put his cup down, and leaned forward in his chair. The room was darker even than the sky outside, but Jane could see the old man’s profile in the window light. He looked frail, insubstantial.

  ‘And do you think they’re valuable?’

  ‘I looked some of the prices up online, and yes, they are clearly valuable.’

  The old man sat back. ‘That isn’t what I meant. I meant do you think they’re valuable as cultural artifacts? In themselves, I mean.’

  ‘Honestly, no, not really. You can read any of them online, or in modern editions, so I’m not sure that first editions, even signed ones, are really worth such colossal prices. But perhaps that’s not what you’re asking.’

  The old man was silent for a moment. ‘Thank you for your frankness, Inspector. And in fact I agree entirely. They have no real value to anyone but me, and even then certainly not as alms for oblivion, so when they were taken from me they ceased to have any value at all.’

  ‘But didn’t you want them back?’

  ‘Of course I did. But they would have been sullied; damaged goods if you will. Do you understand?’

  ‘I do. Do you think that the books are still in existence?’

  The old man looked at him shrewdly.

  ‘I doubt that very much.’

  ‘And how do you feel about that?’

  ‘Ashes to ashes.’

  Hall nodded.

  ‘I wanted to ask you something, purely hypothetically. You don’t have to answer, and if I were you, I wouldn’t. And you’ll need to put yourself in my position, too. Can you do that?’

  ‘I’ve read Conan Doyle.’

  ‘That might not help all that much, I’m afraid. Instead try to imagine you’re a modern Police Officer, with very limited time and resources available. As a result all kinds of minor, and some really quite significant crime goes unpunished, even when detected. Now imagine that in the case of John Perkins you knew who had sent the letters, and who had started the fire, but were unable to prove it. What would you do?’

  ‘Would I have sufficient resources to continue with the investigation?’

  ‘Not in a pro-active fashion, no. The file would remain open, but in the absence of any new information then no charges could be brought.’

  Robinson thought about it.

  ‘This is a two pipe problem. And I’m quite sure of my suspect’s guilt, am I?’

  ‘Oh yes, you’re absolutely sure.’

  ‘And do I empathise with him in any way?’

  ‘You do, but that doesn’t cloud your judgement for one second. What he did was a very serious matter. What if a firefighter had been killed trying to fight the fire for, example? What if it had spread to neighbouring houses, and a child had died in its cot? No, you would charge this man without a second’s hesitation, if you could.’

  ‘And am I concerned about the risk of him offending again?’

  Hall smiled. ‘Yes, absolutely you are. That’s your prime concern in all this. All the rest is ashes and memories.’

  Robinson was silent. The rain rattled on the windows, and Hall could hear it gurgling down a drainpipe somewhere nearby, too.

  ‘I have decided what I’d do’ said Robinson eventually. ‘I would meet the suspect, informally, in order to attempt to divine his future intentions. I would sit with him, perhaps in a room very much like this one, and I would tell him that he would be under the closest scrutiny in future, and this if anything untoward occurred to Mr. Perkins then he would be my prime suspect, as I believe you say.’

  Hall nodded, then finished his tea.

  ‘That sounds like a most pragmatic approach to the problem, under the circumstances. And do you think that your suspect would heed the warning?’

  ‘I do. I believe that he would, absolutely.’

  ‘Good. Then I think we should leave you in peace. But before I go, I wanted to give you this.’ Hall reached into his battered old briefcase, and produced a paperback book. ‘It’s not remotely similar to what you lost, but I thought you might enjoy it.’

  Jane knew that Hall had been reading the book the previous night.

&
nbsp; ‘Eliot’s Complete Poems. Thank you, Inspector. But I see there’s a rather lovely dedication to you on the flyleaf. I couldn’t possibly accept it.’

  ‘No, I’d like you to have it, very much in fact. Sometimes we all have to move on, don’t we?’

  The old man nodded. ‘That’s easier said than done, though, isn’t it, Inspector?’

  Hall didn’t reply. He got up, and Jane followed suit. She didn’t speak until they were almost back in Kendal.

  ‘I’m glad you gave him the book, but won’t you miss it?’

  ‘I can easily buy another. Or perhaps I should put it on my Christmas list?’

  ‘Getting a bit ahead of yourself, aren’t you?’

  ‘Perhaps I am.’ Hall’s tone was as non-committal as ever.

  ‘I’m only joking. Of course I’ll get it for you for Christmas. I’d love to do that.’

  ‘Do you know what Eliot called The Waste Land, originally I mean?’

  ‘No. Something even more depressing, I expect.’

  ‘He do the Police in Different Voices. That’s what it was called. It’s a quote from Dickens. I looked it up.’

  ‘Really? I like that.’

  Hall smiled. ‘Yes, I do too. It’s great, isn’t it?’

  Ian Mann had his evening meal with Jimmy Rae and his lads. No-one said much, and Mann wasn’t surprised. The plans were all agreed, so there wasn’t much to say. The jokes and banter had dried up too. No-one wanted to the last words they said to a mate to be a piss-take.

  The Police firearms unit had arrived, and after they’d eaten as well Jimmy and the lads who’d be out on the Bay that night came to the farm to meet up with them. It was just before half seven, and they all stood together in an old cowshed. Jimmy was very keen to make sure that the firearms lads knew what they needed to do if any shooting started, and the Inspector in command didn’t look too happy at being told what to do.