Separated at Death (The Lakeland Murders)

by Salkeld, J J

  Things didn’t look all that comfortable for Amanda Hamilton and Robert Preston either. They were by no means poor, but Amanda was already a great deal less wealthy then she had been. They too were keeping their lifestyle going, but unlike Simon they were now in debt, and the Staveley house, bought with cash after the divorce, now carried a mortgage of rather more than twice the value of Hall’s own house. Preston’s declared income was low too. Overall, the financial security that Amanda had enjoyed for all of her married life had pretty much vanished.

  That was all very interesting, thought Hall, but it didn’t take them one inch closer to finding Amy’s killer. Because how could they possibly connect the killing of a seventeen year old girl to any financial troubles of the immediate family? There still had to be something that they were missing.

  ‘I know that Jane has been doing some great work on John Hamilton’s computer’ said Hall, ‘Jane, tell everyone what you’ve found please.’

  She was hesitant to begin with, but passed round copies of the emails and explained the background.

  ‘Thanks very much Jane, excellent work. Thoughts, anyone?’

  ‘I don’t know boss’ said Mann. ‘Like I said, why didn’t he mention that he knew about Ryan? He’s had plenty of opportunities. But on the other hand I’ve only met the man a couple of times, but I just don’t see him as the kind of person who’d kill over snobbery.’

  ‘Let’s find out, shall we? Jane, I’d like you to come with us please. Be interested in your perspective. So would you find out where John Hamilton is at the moment please, and arrange for us to see him as soon as possible. He needs to know that it’s urgent.’

  John Hamilton had decided to go in to work that day, and he was at the Penrith shop that morning. Hall, Mann and Jane Francis climbed into Hall’s car, and he started to look for a CD that he thought might appeal to all of them. But after a few seconds he grabbed his CD wallet from the door pocket and passed it back to Jane Francis. ‘You choose’ he said, and started the engine.

  It was a lovely morning, so rather than use the M6 Hall took the A6 instead. Jane Francis passed him a CD and he slid it into the dash without looking at it. It was a compilation Americana CD he’d made himself, because his car was too old to have an MP3 connection and he was too old to rig one up, and it started with The Gourds cover ofGin and Juice.

  ‘I know this’ said Mann, ‘it’s a rap song isn’t it?’

  ‘Not any more it isn’t’ laughed Jane.

  They drove north, up the steep climb to Shap summit, the noise of Hall’s old 5-series covered by the music. He would have been enjoying himself, if it wasn’t for the interview that they’d have to conduct in half an hour. He remembered an old trucker who had his lorry pinched telling him that years ago, before the M6, the lorry drivers had to drive their lorries up against the dry stone walls on the way down, using their wheel nuts for additional braking. Hall wasn’t sure whether to believe him or not, but the old bloke said that if you looked you could still see the deep grooves low down on the stone walls. Slaid Cleaves sounded wonderful whenFlowered Dresses came on, but it did nothing to lift Hall’s mood. It reminded him a bit of his dreams.

  They found a parking space almost outside Hamilton’s store, and Hall snapped the music off. ‘You happy to lead Ian?’

  ‘Sure boss, if that’s how you’d prefer it. How do you want me to play it?’

  ‘Dead straight. But he needs to understand that either he’s completely honest and open with us now, or he’ll be the focus of this investigation.’

  They walked in to the store, and the designated greeter stepped back, sensing that this wasn’t a social call. These three didn’t look like a family group, the tall one in the old mac, the wide one in the down jacket and the woman looking rather happier than the others to be there.

  John Hamilton was waiting for them in his office at the back of the store. It smelt even more strongly of polythene and leather than the rest of the shop.

  ‘Sorry you had to trail up here, but I try to get out to the stores one day a week, and I haven’t been here in a while, so..’

  He was looking at Andy Hall, but it was Ian Mann who spoke.

  ‘We need to talk to you about your emails, Mr Hamilton. You haven’t been telling us the truth.’

  ‘My emails? What about them?’

  ‘About the fact that you knew about your daughter and Ryan Wilson.’

  ‘No, I didn’t.’

  Mann reached into the file, and took out the print outs of the emails from and to Joyce McHugh. He passed them to Hamilton, who glanced at them.

  ‘Oh these. Sorry, but his name didn’t even register. She’s a terrible old gossip, Joyce is, she’s always sending me emails about everything from staff members who she’s convinced are on the take to a list of what’s wrong with this country today. If you look back in my email you’ll find plenty of others over the time since I eventually managed to get her to retire. I’m only nice to her because I’m worried about what she’ll say about me if I don’t.’

  Hamilton smiled, but Mann didn’t.

  ‘Mr Hamilton, I’m not quite sure that you understand the position here. You told us that you didn’t know that Amy had a boyfriend, let alone that you knew who he is.’

  ‘I don’t know him. I will only have skimmed Joyce’s email anyway. I do hope you understand that my mind is elsewhere at the moment.’

  ‘Of course, but this has to introduce a new line of enquiry, you can see that?’

  ‘No. What do you mean?’

  ‘Did you disapprove of Ryan Wilson?’

  ‘No, I don’t even know the lad. One of the things that I learned when my wife left was that not only do you not ever really know anyone else, but you can’t stop them from doing what they want. You just can’t. We’re all in charge of our own lives, and that includes my daughters.’

  ‘That’s all well and good’ said Mann, his look suggesting that it wasn’t. ‘I’m not sure I’m getting through to you here, Mr Hamilton. I need to be sure that you understand what I’m telling you here. We’re going to have look very closely at you in this enquiry.’

  ‘I thought you already had, didn’t you say you looked at the whole family Andy?’ Hamilton looked at Hall.

  ‘We did do that’ said Mann firmly, ‘but because of this new development we’re going to be looking very closely at you. At absolutely everything about you.’

  It was thirty seconds before Hamilton spoke again. All three coppers looked at him levelly. ‘But you can’t possibly believe that I killed my own daughter, can you? And all because a stupid old woman reckons that some lad isn’t good enough for a Hamilton. A hundred years ago my family were just joiners at Simpsons of Kendal, so we’ve got no silver spoons in our mouths. All I’ve ever wanted is for my kids to be as happy as they can be for as long as they can. That’s it. I’d never kill anyone, least of all my own daughter.’

  For the first time Hamilton looked angry. Hall was pleased to see it too.

  ‘You people must be desperate, if you think this is some kind of lead. Can’t you do your job and find who it is who took my daughter’s life? With all your resources and your labs and your computer experts you must be able to do a better job than this. Joyce is just a mad old woman. Anyone who took any action on the basis of what she said would have to be even crazier still.’

  On the drive back to Kendal they didn’t say much, and Hall didn’t feel like playing any music either. While they’d been in Penrith a thick blanket of heavy cloud, going purplish in the late morning light, had spread over the landscape. It started to snow lightly, but the flakes were large and slow moving, settling like butterflies on his car. So Hall made for the M6, and put his foot down. The sooner they were back at the station the better.

  For the first time since he’d found out that Amy was dead Ryan felt in control again. He called in at the corner shop on the way home and stood behind an old man in the queue, and watched him exchange a pot scourer for a can of high stren
gth lager. Ryan found himself smiling, even though it took ages for the man to find the receipt. One way or another he’d never turn into that old bloke.

  When he got in he called out for his mum, and when he got no reply he went to the kitchen, did the washing up, microwaved one of the pies that he’d bought and left the other two in the fridge. He sat at the table, and rehearsed exactly how he’d play it with Wayne.

  The cops had given him pretty much all he needed. They’d confirmed that he had been grassed up, and that the drugs had no real value. Ryan decided to talk to Wayne about the second aspect, but not the first. Because by pretending not to know that Adam had sold him out he hoped to convince Wayne that he was still one of his boys.

  Ryan had decided exactly what to add to what that copper had said too. And he’d wait until Wayne’s working day was over before going round, probably around midnight, because by then Wayne would be well away. When he was a kid Ryan had learnt how to get simple messages across, even when his dad was pretty much totally out of it, so he was confident that he’d be able to get Wayne to contact Adam, and with enough of his story intact to get Adam seriously interested.

  When they got back to the station Hall went to see Robinson.

  ‘So you think this is enough to get a search warrant for John Hamilton’s home, do you Andy?’ asked Robinson, after Hall had summarised the interview with Hamilton in Penrith.

  ‘I was rather hoping for a steer on this one from you on this, sir’ said Hall.

  Robinson took his time before replying. Time was a privilege of rank.

  ‘I understand the sensitivity, of course I do. John Hamilton is a respected member of our community, and it’s his own daughter’s death that we’re talking about here. But in the end this has to be your decision Andy. I appreciate you discussing it first, but I’m getting the feeling that you’ve already made your decision.’

  ‘Regretfully, yes I have. My own view is that John Hamilton is very unlikely to have killed his daughter for any reason, especially because of the gossip of a nosey old woman. We’ve been looking at his email exchanges with her over the time since she retired, and she’d brought his attention to plenty of other things.’

  ‘Did he follow up on any though? Did he take this old woman at all seriously?’

  ‘That’s the thing, he did, at least to begin with. So we can’t be absolutely certain that he didn’t confront his daughter about Ryan.’

  ‘But you know that he didn’t follow her by car that night?’

  ‘Not exactly sir. We know that his car wasn’t close behind, but what if he knew where she was headed already? We’ll look at the CCTV round town again, for the time from when her car passed until we know she was probably dead, say 10.30pm. It will take time, and even if we don’t find John’s car that doesn’t mean that he didn’t get to Serpentine Woods some other way. It’s only twenty minutes on foot from his house remember.’

  ‘So you do want to apply for a search warrant? His home and offices too?’

  ‘Yes, both. And we’ve got the DNA to consider as well. Those fragments we found under Amy’s fingernails can’t be matched to anyone, they’re too damaged, but they can exclude. So they do exclude young Ryan, but not John Hamilton. It’s nothing more than indicative, because the doc won’t say definitively that they’re even associated with the attack and apparently any family member probably wouldn’t be excluded. It might very well be Amy’s own DNA in fact.’

  ‘How discrete are you planning to be?’

  ‘We’re certainly not going to invite the TV crews, but on the other hand we do need to be quick. If he’s guilty then he’s alerted to our interest now, because Ian Mann left him in no doubt that he’s a serious suspect. I left an unmarked car on him for the rest of the day today just in case, but you know how much that costs. I’m already looking at twenty hours overtime just for the rest of the day.’

  Robinson nodded.

  ‘And you really don’t have any stronger leads?’

  ‘No sir, absolutely nothing. As far as we can see the only thing about Amy that set her apart from any of her classmates was that she was having a relationship with a lad like Ryan Wilson. Of course we haven’t entirely eliminated him from our enquiries, but you’ve seen the Home Office expert’s view of time of death. Assuming that the temperature readings taken at the time were correct, and we’ve absolutely no reason to believe that they’re not, then Ryan can’t have been at the scene at the time of Amy’s death. And the only other connection that we can see to Ryan is this old busybody’s email to John Hamilton, which he doesn’t deny having read.’

  ‘I hear you Andy. I suppose that the doc’s instruments couldn’t be wrong could they? Is it worth checking their calibration, just to be sure?’

  Robinson was obviously clutching at evidential straws. He never gave the impression of ever having been an actual working copper, and his various anecdotes always had aDixon of Dock Green flavour, even though he was actually only a few years older than Hall. But Hall wrote the suggestion on his pad, and decided he’d send Jane in to bat on that one. Hall gathered his papers and was about to get up.

  ‘Have you got just another minute or two Andy? I know how busy you are.’

  ‘Yes sir. Ian Mann is going to text me when he’s got the warrant sworn out and a team together. I’m afraid we’ve had to call another three uniforms in from HQ and points west, because we need the search specialists. Ian will summarise it all on an email for you.’

  Robinson glanced over at his computer screen, as if expecting Mann’s email to arrive as they spoke.

  ‘You’re interested in history, aren’t you Andy?’

  ‘Yes sir, I read economic history at university.’

  ‘St Andrews wasn’t it?’

  ‘Durham sir.’

  ‘Yes, Durham.’ Robinson sounded dubious. ‘Anyway, I wondered if you knew how many murders that have taken place in and around Kendal since Cumbria came into existence in 1974, and which remain unsolved to this day?’

  Hall had a nasty feeling that he could guess the answer.

  ‘I don’t sir. Certainly none in my time.’

  ‘Nor in mine, nor in anyone’s come to that. Because there isn’t a single unsolved murder on the books of this station.’

  Robinson looked at Hall, and Hall looked back. He could see Robinson’s reflection in the meeting table. Hall wasn’t sure what to say.

  They could both hear Hall’s Blackberry buzzing. ‘That might be Ian Mann sir.’

  Robinson gestured for Hall to check it, and it was Mann saying that the team would be ready to go in twenty minutes. Hall passed on the news.

  ‘Well I can’t say that I expected that we’d be searching the home of a well-known and respected local businessman rather than a low-life like Ryan, but I’m sure that you know what you’re about Ian. Our 100% murder clear-up rate is one of the things that the Chief is proudest of, in fact he mentioned it in a slide that he used in an ACPO presentation recently, when they were debating this whole merger business. So you can see how much it means to him, and to all of us.’

  As Hall left he knew exactly how soccer managers feel when their Chairman gives them a vote of confidence. But he wasn’t surprised. He knew that this case had already swallowed up far more resources than the force could afford, and that, whatever the outcome, it would have real implications for the uniformed and civilian staff in the year ahead. Some might very well lose their jobs, although he very much doubted that Robinson’s name would feature on any redundancy notice. Because in Hall’s limited experience the people who drew up the hit-lists very seldom appeared on them themselves.

  Hall called out to Jane as he walked in to the office, and told her the job that he’d got for her. The Doc was going to be even less happy to have a female DC asking him to send kit away for calibration, and Hall was interested to see how she handled it.

  ‘I’d suggest that you play the ‘as one scientist to another’ card’ he suggested ‘That might work, well a bi
t anyway.’

  ‘But I’m a copper now boss’ she replied. Perhaps that was want she thought he wanted to hear, or maybe she too had already crossed the line between policing being a living and a way of life. Hall knew how that felt, and was beginning to appreciate the price he’d paid for it. But it wasn’t his problem he told himself, and if a bright DC was willing to work 14 hour days indefinitely then that was up to her.

  Mann was briefing the search teams. Hall walked over and listened. When Mann had finished he asked Hall if he’d like to say anything.

  ‘That’s excellent Ian, thanks. Just one thing, let’s lose the body armour shall we? We’re not raiding a crack house. And like Ian says, flag up anything that looks out of place, it doesn’t necessarily have to connect directly to Amy. If you’re in any doubt, put your hand up and we’ll take a look, and there’ll be no piss taking afterwards, no matter what you come up with. This is a murder inquiry remember. OK? Ian, has the suspect been contacted?’

  ‘Yes, and last I heard he was just coming off the M6 at Junction 37’ said Mann. ‘So he’ll be there before we are. We’ve got a car there already, so he’ll be kept outside until we arrive.’

  Mann was taking the Penrith office, and Hall would lead at the house. So he followed the unmarked van round to Hamilton’s house, pulled into the tree-lined drive and parked up. There’d been no press people at the gates, and Hall was relieved. He was quite certain that nothing would be found.

  Hall shook Hamilton’s hand, but didn’t say that he was sorry. That didn’t mean he wasn’t though. ‘Would you like to come inside?’ asked Hall. ‘I may get called away, but if you just stay put in one place that will be fine. This might take a bit of time.’