Deadly Waters

by OMJ Ryan

  As I pull the car away from the curb, my heart pounds and my eyes dart from my wing mirrors to the rear-view mirror, looking for any signs that I am being followed. I see nothing, but it always pays to be cautious. I zig-zag through the streets for a few more minutes, then double back on myself, just to be sure, before heading off towards the canal.

  ‘Jesus!’ Estelle jumps with fright in her seat as a thin voice crackles through the small speaker. ‘What the fuck’s that?’

  ‘A police scanner,’ I reply coolly, keeping my eyes on my mirrors.

  ‘What do you need that for?’ She sounds tense.

  ‘Curb crawling is a crime. And I don’t know about you, but I’d prefer not to get caught.’

  This seems to satisfy her for a few minutes and she quietens, listening to the radio and yet another bloody Christmas song.

  As ever, my route is mapped in advance to avoid the ANPR cameras, but if you use any well-maintained road, there is still a chance a mobile camera fixed in a squad car can catch you unawares. Thank God I’ve not seen any so far tonight. When we turn onto the back streets near the canal, I feel a sense of relief. I’ve already recced this area and I’m certain there are no ANPR cameras down here. And with no occupied offices or industrial units to worry about, CCTV won’t be an issue either.

  The car lops from side to side across the rough cobbles and potholes for a few minutes. Estelle is getting nervous again. ‘Where are we going?’

  I smile at her. ‘I told you; somewhere quiet.’

  She’s agitated, glancing around at the dark world that surrounds the car. ‘There was loads of places back there we could have used. What the fuck are we doing all the way down here?’

  ‘This place is special,’ I say, without looking at her.

  Bovalino loves cars and loves to drive. It’s what he does in his spare time. He’s also been trained to the highest level of advanced and tactical driving with the police.

  Jones was grateful for his exceptional skills as they tracked Armitage through the back streets of Manchester. Their target had driven with caution since picking up the girl, evidently trying to avoid being noticed by any passing patrol cars.

  Armitage indicated left and pulled off the main road, heading towards the industrial units near Miles Platting.

  Bovalino followed his car, keeping at a safe distance and switching off his headlights to avoid detection.

  Up ahead, Armitage pulled his car to a stop. The brake lights glowed in the darkness for a moment before all the car’s lights were turned off.

  ‘He’s stopped and parked up, Guv,’ said Jones over the radio.

  ‘What’s your location?’ asked Phillips.

  Bovalino slowed down and pulled the car left and out of sight in the shadows of one of the derelict industrial units, coming to a stop.

  ‘He’s taken her to the canal near Ancoats. The same place Candice Roberts’s body was found,’ said Jones.

  ‘Do you have eyes on him?’

  Jones raised his night-vision binoculars to his face. ‘Yes, Guv. He’s with the girl. Nothing’s happening at the moment. They’re talking. Looks like it’s getting a bit heated.’

  ‘Maybe the girl’s got spooked by the location. We’re en route to you now. We’ll approach from the south and stay out of sight, ready to go in as soon as you give us the signal.’

  ‘Roger that, Guv.’

  I park the car and kill the engine, which turns off the radio. Silence fills the car, aside from the odd burst of activity on the police scanner, but I’ve turned it down so it’s just about audible. I stare at Estelle for a long moment, saying nothing. I can tell she’s nervous and unsure of both me and her surroundings.

  ‘Why the fuck have you brought me all the way down here?’

  I remain silent and continue to stare at her.

  ‘Look, I’ve changed my mind. I don’t want to do this.’

  ‘Don't you need the money, Estelle?’

  Shock spreads across her face. ‘How do you know my name?’

  ‘Oh, I know all about you, Estelle. Who you fuck each night, where you buy your drugs, where you live with your son, Cooper.’

  Fear is etched across her face. Even in the darkness, I can see her eyes bulging.

  She begins yanking at the door handle. It’s no use. I control the central locking and it’s locked from my side.

  ‘Let me out! Let me out!’ she screams hysterically.

  ‘Don’t worry, Estelle, I’ll let you out. You see, we’re going for a little walk down to the canal.’ I pull my gun and jam it into her ribs.

  She panics now, throwing herself back against the passenger door, desperate to open it.

  ‘Ok, guys. We’re in position about a hundred meters to your rear. We can see you, and Armitage in the distance,’ Phillips’s voice chimed over the radio.

  Jones sensed the tension mounting in the car they watched as he continued observing Armitage through the night-vision binoculars he held in his left hand; the radio in his right. A moment later, his instincts were proven right. ‘Fuck! She’s just lashed out at him, Guv. Looks like she’s trying to get out of the car, but it’s locked. We’re going in!’

  ‘Go! Go! Go!’ replied Phillips.

  Bovalino gunned the engine and the sound of screeching tyres filled the night air. Activating full beam on the headlights, he raced the car up the street and skidded sideways, blocking Armitage’s car from moving. Phillips and Entwistle arrived a split second later, just as Jones and Bovalino rushed from their vehicle. Bovalino pulled his baton as he reached the driver’s door. Jones arrived at the passenger door a second later, a heavy-duty flashlight trained on the two occupants.

  ‘Out of the car now!’ Jones commanded.

  Both passengers raised their hands in surrender before the driver released the central locking and they each climbed out.

  Phillips and Entwistle arrived just as Jones began cautioning Armitage.

  ‘Billy Armitage, I am arresting you on suspicion of the murders of Candice Roberts, Chantelle Webster and Sasha Adams…’

  Bovalino pressed Armitage up against the car and began to pat him down as he protested, ‘You don’t know what you’re talking about. I haven’t done anything!’

  Phillips approached the girl and prepared to search her. ‘You got any needles on you?’

  The girl didn’t speak, but shook her head.

  Phillips frisked her and pulled a bank card from her small purse. ‘Chloe Barnes. Is that you?’

  The girl remained silent.

  ‘Look, you can play that game all you like, but it won’t take long for us to figure out who you are. So why not just co-operate and make it easier on yourself, huh? So I’ll ask you again. Are you Chloe Barnes?’

  The girl nodded.

  ‘See. That wasn’t so difficult, was it,’ said Phillips, and handed her over to Entwistle. ‘Put her in our car. She’s coming back to Ashton House with us.’

  Entwistle obliged, then jumped in the driver’s seat.

  Armitage continued to protest his innocence, but Bovalino paid him no attention as he slapped him in handcuffs and frogmarched him to their waiting car.

  Phillips followed them. ‘Good job, guys.’

  ‘Thanks, Guv, but it was a team effort.’

  ‘Oh shit. Thanks for the reminder, Jonesy.’ Phillips pulled out her radio. ‘We’ve got him Gibbo,’ she said triumphantly.

  There was a pause before Gibson chimed through. ‘Thank God! I was worried losing Don might have messed things up.’

  ‘A minor hiccup,’ said Phillips, feeling somewhat relieved. ‘So we’ve picked Armitage up with a girl named Chloe Barnes. Do you know her?’

  ‘I do, Guv. She’s a regular on the streets.’

  ‘Well, in that case I’d like you to interview her. There’s more chance she’ll to talk to you.’

  ‘No problem.’

  ‘Great. We’ll see you back at Ashton House within the hour.’

  ‘On my way now, Guv.’<
br />
  24

  Gibson was waiting in the squad room when Phillips and Entwistle arrived back from the operation. Downstairs, Billy Armitage and Chloe Barnes had been processed and now sat in separate cells in the custody suite, waiting to be interviewed.

  ‘Any news on Mountfield?’ asked Phillips as she walked into the incident room.

  Gibson shrugged. ‘I checked with uniform whilst I was waiting for you guys. They said by the time they arrived at Armitage’s flat to pick him up, he’d disappeared. So I tried his mobile to see where he’d gone, but it’s going straight to voicemail. I’m guessing he must have gone home. Mind you, he was in a bad way when I left him, projectile vomiting onto the car park of the flats.’

  ‘Any ideas what might have caused that?’

  ‘I’m pretty sure it was food poisoning. When we were waiting for the op to start, he said he wasn’t feeling great. He’d even thought about calling me earlier to drop out. Said he’d eaten something at lunchtime that hadn’t agreed with him, and he’d been feeling nauseous ever since. Then a minute later, without warning, he opened the car door and started being sick. It was bloody everywhere. I’m just glad he managed to keep it out of the car. The stench was disgusting.’

  Phillips nodded. ‘Ok, well, at least you tried to get in touch with him. We’ve covered our duty of care on that. If he’s not answering his phone, there’s not much we can do tonight. And besides, we have far more important things to deal with right now, like interviewing Armitage and Barnes.’

  Jones and Bovalino wandered in, looking pleased with their night’s work, and took seats.

  Phillips was keen to get on. ‘Right. Good work tonight, guys, but the hard work starts now. Billy Armitage is our only suspect in this case, and so far, aside from his altercation in the car with Barnes, all we have to link him to the canal murders are some photos on Facebook. So, to say we need something concrete in a hurry is an understatement. He’s already asked for a lawyer, so as soon as one arrives, we’ll get started. Jones, I want you to interview Armitage with me. Gibson, as you already know Chloe Barnes, I want you and Bovalino to find out what happened in that car with Armitage tonight. Technically she’s not under arrest and is just helping us with our enquiries. No matter what we think of her and what she does for a living, we should remember that she was almost the victim tonight. Having said that, if she starts messing you about or trying to be clever, don’t hesitate to charge her for solicitation and put the frighteners on her. We haven’t got time for anyone to get in the way of this investigation.’

  Entwistle raised his hand. ‘What do you want me to do, Guv?’

  ‘Sit in the observation suite and take notes on Armitage. Anything you hear that doesn’t add up, dig into it and let us know.’ Phillips moved her gaze across her team. ‘Right, is everyone clear on what they’re doing?’

  ‘Yes, Guv’ was the response she got from all of them.

  Phillips checked her watch. ‘It’s coming up to midnight. Let’s see if we can crack this before dawn.’

  She stood and led the team out of the room and down towards the interview suites on the ground floor.

  25

  Billy Armitage sat behind a dark wooden table in Interview Room Two. Up close, he was a well-built young man who looked like he spent a lot of time in the gym. His large, calloused hands reflected his manual job. His file stated he was twenty-seven years old and had lived in Salford his entire life, moving to his current address just twelve months ago where, according to council tax records, he lived alone. Sitting next to him on a red plastic chair was his solicitor, Patrick Singleton, a scrawny, dishevelled man in a shiny silver suit, sporting thick glasses and lank, greasy hair. Phillips had met him many times during her investigations and felt confident he was neither bright nor particularly effective in his role as a Legal Aid lawyer, which was good news for her.

  Phillips took her seat opposite Armitage as Jones sat across from Singleton. She explained the formalities regarding the use of video and the DIR – digital interview recorder – and activated the machine. It made a loud, prolonged beep to indicate it was working.

  Phillips took the lead. ‘Billy, can you tell us what you were doing with Chloe Barnes this evening when we arrested you?’

  ‘We were just talking, that’s all.’

  ‘You drove from Cheetham Hill all the way to Ancoats for a chat?’

  Armitage took a sip of water from the cup in front of him. He seemed completely unfazed. ‘That’s correct.’

  ‘And what, exactly, were you talking about, Billy?’

  ‘Life choices.’

  Phillips raised her eyebrows. ‘Life choices? What do you mean by that?’

  Armitage sat forwards now. ‘A couple of months ago, I gave her some money. It was to help her give up the life. To make a fresh start with her daughter, Zoe.’

  ‘And did she?’ asked Phillips.

  Armitage shook his head. ‘She managed to stay off the streets and packed in the drugs for a couple of weeks, but old habits die hard. It wasn’t long before she was back on heroin, and back selling herself to feed her habit.’

  Jones cut in. ‘How much did you give her, Billy?’

  ‘A grand. I’d have given her more, but it was all I had. The silly bitch went and shot the lot up her veins.’

  Phillips folded her arms and gazed at Armitage for a long moment. ‘So, why the Good Samaritan act? And why Chloe?’

  ‘She was my sister’s best mate. Life on the street killed Candy, and I wanted to try and stop it from happening to Chloe.’

  That name rang an alarm bell in Phillips’s head. ‘Wait. You had a sister called Candy?’

  ‘Yeah.’

  ‘What was her full name?’

  ‘Candice.’

  ‘Your sister was Candice Roberts?’

  Armitage looked surprised. ‘That’s her. Did you know her?’

  Phillips kept her cards close to her chest. ‘No, no. I just remember reading about her death in the paper. She drowned in the canal, didn’t she?’

  Armitage scoffed. ‘That’s what you lot said, but I don’t believe it. I think someone pushed her into that canal.’

  ‘Are you saying she was murdered, Billy?’

  ‘That’s exactly what I’m saying, yeah.’

  Phillips unfolded her arms and leaned in closer, her voice softer now. ‘Why would you think that?’

  ‘Candice was scared of water and she couldn’t swim. There was no way she would’ve taken a shortcut by the canal. No way at all. She freaked out anywhere near water.’

  Jones put down his pen. ‘Yeah, but she was a drug addict, wasn’t she?’

  Armitage shot him an angry look, ‘What’s that got to do with it?’

  Jones continued. ‘Well, if she was desperate for her next hit, she’d probably take all kinds of risks, wouldn’t she?’

  ‘I know my sister, and even smacked off her tits or clucking for a hit, she was still terrified of water.’

  Jones didn’t respond, and Phillips resumed control of the interview. She passed a number of large images, printed in black and white, across to Armitage. ‘Do you recognise the car in these pictures?’

  Armitage glanced down and seemed to pause for a moment as he processed what he was looking at.

  ‘Is that your car in each of the images, Billy?’ said Phillips.

  He continued to scan the black and white shots before looking up at Phillips. ‘Er, yeah. Where did you get these?’

  Phillips tapped the image closest to her with an index finger. ‘They were captured by the automatic number plate recognition cameras – also known as ANPR – over the last couple of months in Cheetham Hill, Ancoats and Miles Platting. Areas known to be frequented by sex workers and their clients. Can you explain what you were doing around those areas so often, and so late at night, Billy?’

  Armitage seemed to stumble. He opened his mouth, but appeared unable to speak.

  Phillips passed across two more black and white images of hi
s car. ‘These two shots were taken on the nights Chantelle Webster and Sasha Adams died. Both within a mile of where their bodies were found.’ She paused to let the full import sink in.

  ‘Are you familiar with those names, Billy?’

  Armitage nodded. ‘I saw it in the news. They both died, like Candice.’

  Phillips pressed him. ‘Did you see it in the news, or did you, in fact, kill them along with Candice, Billy?’

  Panic filled Armitage’s face.

  ‘I’d like a moment with my client, please,’ his lawyer finally spoke up

  Phillips was in no mood to stop. She fixed Singleton with an icy glare. ‘Of course. When I’m finished, you can have all the time you need.’

  As expected, Singleton backed down without a fight. Turning her gaze back to Armitage, she repeated the question. ‘Billy, did you kill Candice Roberts, Chantelle Webster and Sasha Adams?’

  Armitage looked up from the images. His words tumbled from his mouth in staccato. ‘It was the car. The car. I was looking for the car.’

  ‘What car?’ said Jones.

  ‘The one Candice got into before she died.’

  ‘Come on, you can do better than that, Billy,’ goaded Phillips.

  Armitage managed to compose himself. ‘I’m telling you the truth. Candice was last seen getting into a Ford Mondeo. It was the last time anyone saw her alive.’

  Phillips resisted the urge to look at Jones. Billy had mentioned the make and model of the car they’d seen on the ANPR cameras.’

  ‘What colour was this Mondeo?’ asked Phillips.

  ‘I dunno. Chloe reckons it was either black or blue, or maybe green. It’s hard to tell at night.’

  ‘Chloe – as in the girl you were with tonight?’

  ‘Yeah, she was the last one to see Candice alive. She was next to her on the street when she was picked up. Told me she got in with the punter after a bit of chat at the car window. Next morning, Candice turned up dead.’

  ‘Why didn’t you report this to the police?’ said Phillips.