On Laughton Moor (Detective Sergeant Catherine Bishop Book One)

by Lisa Hartley

  They made their way instead to David Bowles’ bedside and stood looking down at him, pale and appearing very young in the hospital bed.

  ‘The nurse told me he should be awake before too long.’ said Bishop.

  ‘Good. We need one of them to be and Bowles is looking the most promising at the moment.’

  The uniformed PC in the corner shuffled his feet, eager for his shift babysitting Bowles to be over.

  ‘We should get back to Brady and see if we can talk to the doctor since it doesn’t seem Mr Bowles here is up to being interviewed just yet.’

  A tall, white coated woman was still bending over Brady when they approached, but the nurse wasn’t in sight. The doctor turned at their footsteps and Knight introduced himself, the woman taking a cursory glance at his proffered ID.

  ‘You’ll want to know when he’ll wake up so you can question him?’

  ‘In an ideal world, but I doubt you’ll be able to tell us.’ said Knight.

  ‘You’re right, I’m afraid. No idea. Hours, a few days?’

  ‘Not long term then?’

  ‘I wouldn’t say so, but I wouldn’t say it was impossible either. I just don’t know. I’ll tell you the same as I’ll tell his mother, he’ll wake in his own time.’

  ‘Thanks.’ said Knight miserably.

  Back in the corridor, Bishop suggested a quick drink in the hospital’s cafe and Knight trailed after her like a scolded schoolboy, seemingly unsure of what to do next. They sat in a quiet corner. Knight sipped at his coffee.

  ‘We know there’s a link between them. Brady’s mother confirms Brady knew Pollard, Kent and Bowles, which means we need Pollard’s family and Kent’s sister to tell us if they ever spoke about Brady and Bowles, or if any of them can remember anything that will help us. I think we can discount Bowles and Brady as our murderer, which means there’s another person who also knew or knows them all. That person could be what links the four of them, or they may know what the link is. This is what we’ve been missing all along.’

  ‘I’ll phone Anna Varcoe, get her and the others onto Pollard’s parents and Jodie Kent. They were still trying to trace Bowles’ family.’ She paused, frowning. ‘It’s bothering me why Brady was up on the moor.’

  ‘Me too. It’s not the sort of place you’d go for a wander, not in November. Perhaps he was trying to clear his head, get away from people.’

  ‘He obviously didn’t believe he was under threat though. Bowles seems to have been terrified according to the note he left, but Brady goes off by himself into the loneliest place around here.’

  ‘And meets our man.’

  ‘Do you think it was deliberate? That he was lured there somehow?’

  ‘It would explain why he would go there out of the blue. His mother seems to know his habits, and walking on the moors isn’t to be one of them.’

  ‘Varcoe said the neighbour told them Brady had gone out very early.’

  ‘It’s possible. His mobile was left with him, unlike Pollard and Kent. That could be handy, let’s check the calls he’s made and received lately. We need to get into his house too.’

  ‘I’ll find out where his possessions are. It’ll be interesting to know what he was wearing when he was found too, see if he was kitted out in walking gear or jeans and a jacket. His mum can’t know everything.’

  Knight drained his cup. ‘I’m going to see what Mr Ellis can tell us.’

  ‘Ellis?’

  ‘He found Brady. I’ve got his address, it’s not far. You stick around here, talk to Brady’s dad, see if he can remember more than his wife. Keep going back to Bowles and giving him a pinch too.’

  Ray Ellis lived in a tidy bungalow on a quiet side street. He opened the door to Knight himself, perfectly composed. As he followed Ellis down a long hallway and into an airy kitchen, Knight reflected that he didn’t seem the type of man to allow himself to become flustered. Ellis told Knight he’d been a lorry driver and that he and his wife spent as much time as possible travelling now he was retired.

  ‘You’d think I’d be sick of being on the road, but we sold our house, bought this place and a camper van and we can do as we please.’

  ‘Sounds good to me.’ said Knight, accepting another cup of coffee. He couldn’t really complain about insomnia when he drank this much of the stuff. Ellis sat, placing his own mug on the dining table in front of him.

  ‘I didn’t expect a detective inspector to turn up, more a young lad still wet behind the ears.’

  ‘I wanted to talk to you myself. You’re the first real witness we have.’

  Ellis sighed.

  ‘I wouldn’t call myself a witness, I just saw him on the ground. It’s Alfie who’s the witness but you won’t get much out of him.’

  ‘Alfie’s the dog?’

  ‘That’s right. My wife’s taken him for a walk, she thought he’d be best out of the way. He gets a bit excited around visitors.’

  ‘So what can you tell me, Mr Ellis?’

  Ellis spread his hands helplessly.

  ‘Not much, I’m afraid. I took the route I always do, ending up alongside the stream. It’s more than a stream really, not a river but quite wide. I walk back along it to the road. Anyway, Alfie had run ahead a little but I could still see him so I didn’t worry. He usually comes back when you call. I was wandering along when he started barking and ran off. I shouted, but this time he didn’t come back and he kept barking. I couldn’t see him, I just followed the sound of him yapping. I could see the man on the ground from quite a way off and ran to him. When saw he was still breathing, I got out my phone but there wasn’t a signal. I didn’t want to leave him, but I didn’t have much choice, so I put him into the recovery position, covered him with my coat and then went as fast as I could back towards the road. I thought even if I don’t get a signal before I reach the car, at least I’ll be able to drive for help. That’s about it I’m afraid.’

  ‘You didn’t see anyone?’

  ‘No. He could have been lying there for hours for all I know. How is he, by the way?’

  ‘Still unconscious. I don’t think he’s in any danger, the doctor seems confident he’ll recover.’

  ‘Would you mind keeping me informed please? I know it’s a lot to ask, but I just feel responsible somehow. I know I didn’t do it, but finding him like that … Well, I’d just like to know he’s okay.’

  ‘I can understand that. I’ll make sure you’re kept up to date.’

  ‘Thank you.’

  ‘Were there any other cars parked near yours?’

  ‘No, none. I didn’t see another soul except the lad on the ground.’

  Knight thanked Ellis and left. He wasn’t sure why he’d thought Ellis might be able to give him a clue as to who they were searching for. Wishful thinking, probably. He phoned Bishop from his car, asked her to find out if Brady drove. He sat for a moment, eyes fixed on his rear view mirror. The same car had appeared there a few times now, and Knight was sure it wasn’t coincidence. He hadn’t seen the driver yet and couldn’t think who would follow him. The old panic was threatening to bubble to the surface and Knight fought it as best he could. The car was no longer in sight. Knight smiled wryly. Had he imagined it? He opened the door and got out, went around to the rear of the car, rummaged around in the boot for a few seconds then slammed it shut and discreetly glanced around. The only person in sight was an elderly lady hauling a couple of bags of shopping. Knight climbed back into his car feeling silly.

  In the next street, Paul Hughes watched the junction at the top of the road intently. He’d been following Knight all morning and it hadn’t been very productive so far, but he didn’t want to miss his quarry. He knew Knight was in the middle of a murder investigation, but he’d only been to the hospital and some bungalow so far today, neither of which helped Hughes with his quest. The bungalow certainly didn’t look like a safe house, not that Hughes had ever seen one. He imagined it would be a top floor flat with hundreds of bolts on the doors and windows, at le
ast one armed guard and cameras everywhere. Hughes wasn’t sure what he was going to do if Knight didn’t lead him to the safe house soon. Then again, he had no idea what he was going to do if Knight did lead him to the safe house. His dad had been on the phone again nagging at him and there were only so many excuses Malc Hughes would listen to before he exploded. Paul knew his dad had always had a grudging respect for Knight, why he couldn’t say. He’d never seemed to have achieved anything particularly amazing to Paul, either before or after the night in the garage. Still, the way Knight had picked himself up and moved North to seemingly start again was impressive, even Paul Hughes had to admit. He’d seen people go completely to pieces after an evening in one of his dad’s lock ups. There was Knight’s car. Hughes eased out of his parking space and followed.

  51

  I’ve been forced into a mistake and I promised myself that would never happen. I shouldn’t have followed Brady there, I wasn’t properly prepared and being at that place with one of them … I couldn’t help myself. Even if a car full of police officers had been watching, I would still have done it. I’m not even sure Brady is dead, since that stupid bloody dog turned up. Where there’s a dog, there must be an owner. It had a collar on and looked well fed, so I doubt it was a stray. At least I had time to leave the message. Brady might still survive though and all I can hope is that he can give no proper description. I wasn’t wearing the suit, it would have made me too conspicuous and I didn’t really intend to do it then, I just wanted to see what he was doing, if he was really going back there. He could have gone there often, I don’t know. He might feel some guilt. None of the others seemed to, but he might. He should do. In my eyes, they’re all as guilty as each other. My message was there, and surely it will all be linked together in the end, even if I have to spell it out myself in words of one syllable. Bowles is next, the last. Little Dave Bowles. It will have to be soon. I need to find out what has happened to Brady. There’s been nothing in the news yet, though it’s early. If he’s dead, it will be made public soon enough.

  52

  Bishop skulked around the hospital, waiting for her phone to ring. Brady’s father hadn’t been able to add anything to his wife’s answers to their questions. Brady had a driving licence they told her, but hadn’t owned a car since his last one failed its MOT and was deemed not worth repairing. It was languishing on a garage forecourt nearby, hopefully to be sold for parts. Bishop hated waiting around and wanted to be busy, but Knight had again asked her to stay at the hospital. She wasn’t even sure why. She was a DS, surely there was more she could be doing than killing time here? She could speak to neither Brady nor Bowles. Brady’s parents had taken both the chairs near their son’s bed and hadn’t offered her one of their boiled sweets. Feeling a little sorry for herself, Bishop made yet another trip to the hospital café, ordered a cappuccino for a change and settled back in her chair. Claire answered on the first ring.

  ‘Catherine?’

  ‘I just wanted to give you a call.’

  ‘I wasn’t expecting to hear from you, I thought you’d be too busy.’

  ‘I’m having a bit of a break.’

  ‘Where are you? It doesn’t sound like the station.’

  ‘No, I’m … I’m out. We’ve had a few developments.’

  ‘Really?’

  ‘Yes, I’m just waiting around while we follow up a few leads.’

  ‘Can’t you come back and wait around with me?’

  ‘I’d love to. Not sure DI Knight would agree though.’

  ‘We will meet up later? If you can?’

  ‘Definitely.’

  There was a pause.

  ‘I really enjoyed last night, you know.’ Claire said softly.

  ‘I did too. Claire, I’m really sorry, I’m going to have to go, I’m expecting some call backs. I just wanted to say hello.’

  ‘I’m glad you did. I’ll see you later then.’

  Bishop sat smiling to herself.

  53

  Kendrick was pacing. Knight was surprised to see the dark blue carpet tiles in his office didn’t have a path worn through them.

  ‘You’re telling me we’ve still no suspect?’

  ‘We’ve lots of suspects, it’s narrowing them down that we’re struggling with. We’ve still nothing on Mike Pollard, Kelly Whitcham, anyone.’ said Knight.

  Kendrick rounded on him.

  ‘That’s right, Inspector, make a joke. It’s just the time to try to be funny. Christ, you’ve been telling me the same thing since Pollard was killed. Following leads, questioning people and here we are, days later and all you’ve got to show for your efforts is another dead body and two of his mates flat on their backs in the hospital. Not exactly Sherlock Holmes, are you?’

  ‘I never said I was. You know as well as I do that this case was never going to be easy.’

  ‘Have we made any progress at all? That’s what the Super’s going to want to know and that’s what the press will be asking. It’s only a matter of time before Bowles’ suicide attempt and the attack on Brady are front page news. We’ve had some calls already.’

  ‘Only to be expected.’

  Kendrick exploded.

  ‘For God’s sake Jonathan, do you actually care that this whole investigation is well on its way to becoming a national joke? We’ll probably be held up as an example of how not to run a murder enquiry to new recruits. If you came up here to resurrect your career, you’ve a strange way of going about it.’

  Knight’s eyes narrowed.

  ‘I wasn’t aware my career needed resurrecting, as you put it. I came here as a transfer, not a demotion.’

  ‘Come on, I bet you thought life up here would be a piece of piss compared to London. Well, you were wrong. You’ve been thrown in at the deep end and it seems to me that at the moment you’re struggling to stay afloat.’

  Staring at him, Knight got to his feet. Does anyone really talk like that? he thought. Kendrick sighed, gestured to Knight to sit back down. When he spoke again, his voice was soft.

  ‘I know this case is a bastard. These messages that have been left … I don’t see what they’re supposed to tell us. That’s probably the point. Either way, you know how it is. The Super’s on at me for progress, she’s being pressured from higher up, the press are haranguing everyone, we’ve got nothing to show for all our man hours, we’ve uncovered a people trafficking gang that we’ve so far no chance of breaking, and to top it off, somehow we’ve got mixed up with the Hughes family, which isn’t where we want to be. We need to close this case soon, before the whole force becomes a laughing stock.’

  ‘I know that.’

  ‘Catherine Bishop?’

  ‘She’s fine, coping well.’ Knight had his own ideas about what Bishop had been up to, but he wasn’t going to share them with Kendrick.

  ‘We’re expecting Bowles at least to be ready to talk soon?’

  ‘Hopefully.’

  ‘I’ll want an update later on.’

  Knight realised he was dismissed. As he left Kendrick’s office and headed to his own, he stopped by a window that gave a view over the street below. It was a grey day, murky and miserable. Through the gloom, Knight thought he could see the car that he’d thought was following him earlier. He could even make out a figure in the driver’s seat, but as the car was parallel parked, there was no chance of seeing the number plate. His usual caution deserting him, Knight strode down the stairs and out into the car park. Taking the narrow path between the police station and the old post office building next door led him back onto the street, just behind the car. Stepping back into the alleyway, he gave the number plate to his colleagues in control, who told him the car belonged to a national hire company. Back in his office, Knight found the phone number of their head office, and after a few more minutes was staring down at the name of the company who’d hired the car out in London. It was one he knew well, he’d seen it several times during his life in the capital. Huggy’s Cabs. It didn’t take much imagination to sub
stitute Huggy’s for Hughes’ and then the picture became clearer. One of Malc Hughes’ many taxi companies. It was no surprise to find his new friend was part of Hughes’ gang. In the corridor, Knight took another peek out of the window. The car was still there. Retracing his steps down through the alley and around to the back of the car, Knight crept as close as he dared. A woman waiting for a bus on the opposite side of the road watched curiously. Standing at a bus stop seemed a good idea, less conspicuous, so Knight made his way across to stand in the bus shelter, making sure the occupant of the car could only see his profile.

  ‘It’s okay, I’m a police officer.’ he told the woman, showing his warrant card discreetly. She visibly relaxed.

  ‘You just never know these days, you hear such stories.’ the woman said. Knight nodded. He still couldn’t see the figure in the driving seat clearly.

  ‘Fuck it.’ said Knight audibly, causing the woman beside him to gasp, ‘Charming!’

  He marched across the road, up to the car and hammered on the driver’s window. The man inside had a baseball cap pulled low over his brow, but Knight caught a glimpse of his face as he instinctively turned towards the noise. Paul Hughes. Hughes, panicking, wrenched the car into gear and sped away. Knight stood in the road, hands on hips. Interesting. No doubt here to do some dirty work for his dad. A car slowed to pass him, the driver angrily gesticulating and Knight made his way back to the pavement. As he reached it, his phone started ringing. Catherine Bishop.

  ‘You better get back here, sir, Bowles is awake.’

  ‘Lucid?’

  ‘Chattering away to the nurses. He doesn’t know I’m here yet.’

  ‘Don’t let him find out.’

  54

  David Bowles was sitting up in bed flicking through a dog-eared magazine as Knight and Bishop approached.

  ‘Any good knitting patterns?’ asked Bishop, nodding at Bowles’ reading material. He threw it down, blushing.