Where the Innocent Die

by Where the Innocent Die (epub)

  These places, usually advertised as offering ‘Thai Massage,’ were nothing more than knocking shops, providing fifteen minutes of what was called ‘relaxation’ for men. As quickly as they opened, they closed and relocated somewhere else. The police always had problems keeping tabs on all of them. Not that they were first on the priority list for any station; as long as nobody complained, the police were reluctant to take action.

  But it did give an insight into the sort of people Wendy Chen was involved with.

  This was confirmed when more details came through of Liang Xiao Wen’s rap sheet. Arrested for criminal intimidation, living off immoral earnings and twice for affray. In other words, he was a lowlife who made his money intimidating shops and working as a pimp.

  Ridpath’s eyes drifted across to the only other picture posted on the whiteboards.

  Yang May Feng.

  Was it linked to their arrival in the UK? Both her and Chen Hong Xi had been trafficked into the country. Was the killer covering up his crimes? Covering up his trafficking operation. But why kill? Why not just shut it down?

  He should brief Mrs Challoner before it gets too late. He took his mobile out of his pocket.

  There was a rap on the door. Claire Trent and Chrissy Wright came into the room.

  ‘Chrissy’s got some news for you, Ridpath.’

  ‘Remember you asked me to find out who Wendy Chen rang at Rowley station? Well, the duty sergeant finally got back to me and he checked the logs…’

  ‘And?’

  ‘The call was put through to CID. To Detective Sergeant Ronald Barnes.’

  ‘What?’

  Chapter 48

  Ridpath and Claire Trent stood outside a large detached house in Bramall. The street was classic 1930s suburbia: neat lawns, two car garages, solid brick-built homes and as quiet as a stalking cat late on a Thursday evening.

  ‘Not bad on a Detective Sergeant’s salary. I wish I could afford a place like this,’ Claire Trent said as she pushed open the gate and walked up the rose bush-lined path.

  There was a single light on upstairs. Ridpath pressed the illuminated bell, hearing it ring in the hall.

  A middle-aged woman answered it almost immediately. ‘Can I help you?’

  She was slightly unsteady on her feet and Ridpath could detect the tang of whisky on her breath. He showed her his warrant card. ‘My name is Detective Inspector Ridpath and this is Chief Superintendent Trent. Could we talk to your husband, Mrs Barnes?’

  ‘Couldn’t it wait? He’s only just got home from work. He’s exhausted.’

  ‘I’m afraid not, Mrs Barnes. We’d like to talk with your husband now if we can?’ said Claire Trent forcefully. ‘Can we come in?’

  ‘Who is it, dear?’

  ‘It’s a Detective Inspector… what did you say your name was?’

  ‘Ridpath.’

  ‘Ridpath,’ she shouted up the stairs, ‘and a woman here to see you.’

  ‘My name is Claire Trent and I’m the head of the Major Investigations Team. Can we come in?’

  Ronald Barnes stood at the doorway. ‘Don’t worry, dear, I’ll handle it.’

  ‘But Ronald, you work so hard, you’ve only just come back. Won’t they give you any time to rest? You only have three months left…’

  ‘Don’t worry, dear, it’s just work.’ He put his arm round his wife’s shoulders and helped her walk to a back room. ‘You just rest in here, dear, I’ll handle this.’

  He came back a minute later and opened the front door wider. ‘Please come in, Detective Superintendent, and you too, Ridpath.’ He stepped aside and said, ‘You’ll have to forgive my wife. It’s not easy being married to a copper. We can chat in the living room. What’s this about anyway?’

  The both walked into the living room. It was furnished in classic seventies modern-home style: a green IKEA couch, wood and fake-distressed brick surrounding a gas fire, and a carpet covered in a swirling pattern of muddy colours.

  ‘What’s this about?’ Ronald Barnes repeated as they both sat.

  ‘It’s about the death of Wendy Chen,’ said Ridpath.

  ‘I’ve already told you. I did the investigation as best I could given the resources and the time available. The pathologist and all the prison staff said it was suicide. And that’s what I’m going to tell the coroner when I’m in court tomorrow.’

  ‘It’s not about the investigation, Detective Sergeant Barnes.’

  ‘Well, what is it? The complaint about me from the coroner? But surely it will be handled by Professional Standards not MIT?’

  ‘Correct,’ interjected Claire Trent, ‘this is about a phone call you received from Wendy Chen on the 19th August, 2019.’

  Barnes sighed and his head went down.

  ‘You admit it was you who received the call?’

  The detective nodded.

  ‘Why did she ring you?’

  The man’s head came up. ‘Because she thought I could help her.’

  ‘So you knew her before she was arrested by Immigration Enforcement?’

  Again he nodded slowly. ‘I was the one who told them about her.’

  Chapter 49

  ‘You told them? Why?’

  ‘I had to. It’s the law.’

  ‘I don’t understand.’

  ‘Wendy Chen was one of my CI’s…’

  ‘She was a confidential informant?’

  ‘I received a call about a month before her death. She didn’t want to come into the station, so we met in a coffee shop. She told me she had information about a criminal gang trafficking people, mostly women, from Asia into the UK. She could give me times, dates, people, routes they used, everything.’

  ‘This is all in a case file?’

  ‘Of course, I wrote it all down, I know how to do my job. I sent the details to Criminal Intelligence and to North West Organised Crime.’

  ‘So what happened?’

  ‘I met her a couple of times, trying to get more information out of her, but she stalled me, saying she wanted payment. I thought it was worth it, so I raised the subject with my boss…’

  ‘And?’

  ‘He said the payment was impossible at the moment. He also advised me as she was an illegal immigrant, I had to inform the Enforcement authorities of her status and her address.’

  ‘What? You shopped her even though she had come to you as a CI?’

  Ridpath felt a hand on his arm. ‘It’s the law, Ridpath. Home Office Rules state all illegal immigrants who come into contact with the police have to be reported immediately to the Immigration authorities.’

  ‘But this woman was reporting human trafficking. Don’t we have posters in all our nicks asking people to report this?’

  ‘True, but if they do and they are illegal themselves, they will be deported.’

  ‘But why come forward? I’d bloody stupid to report myself to the police…’

  ‘Look, Ridpath, we don’t make the rules, we just enforce them.’

  ‘Even if they are stupid.’

  ‘Even if they are stupid.’

  Silence descended on the living room. It was Claire Trent who spoke first. ‘So DS Barnes, you reported her address to Immigration Enforcement?’

  ‘Yes, worst thing I ever had to do. They picked her up a week later and that’s when I received the call from inside the Removal Centre. She said she would tell everything as long as they would let her stay. There was nothing I could do…’

  ‘Why did you investigate her death? You should have excused yourself, saying you knew her.’

  His head went down again. ‘I know. I shouldn’t have got involved but there were no other detectives available and I thought I could make it easy on her.’

  ‘Easy on her?’

  ‘I thought she’d killed herself because I’d shopped her, you see. I just wanted to make everything smooth for her family. Not have some heavy-handed copper trampling through her life. She was a good person, a sweet person. And I had to shop her.’

&nb
sp; ‘Was that why your inquiry was so superficial? You didn’t do any background checks, didn’t interview witnesses, didn’t dig deeply or investigate properly.’

  ‘What was the point? She’d killed herself and I was to blame.’

  ‘But that’s where you’re wrong, Ron. She didn’t kill herself, she was murdered.’

  Chapter 50

  Ridpath was at home, sitting in front of the darkened screen of the television, sipping a glass of Glenmorangie.

  They had finally left Ronald Barnes’ house two hours ago. The man seemed genuinely distraught Wendy Chen had been murdered and he had missed it.

  He had asked the question troubling Ridpath too. ‘How is a young woman murdered in one of the most secure places in Manchester?’

  That was the sixty-four thousand dollar question. It must have been an inside job. One of the guards, the management or the security staff must have helped the killer gain entry.

  Or perhaps the killer was already inside and they merely opened the doors for him or her. Or left them open?

  They needed the schematics from the Coroner’s Office.

  He found his mobile and rang Sophia.

  ‘Morning,’ she said sleepily.

  ‘Sorry for ringing so late, Sophia, but could you do me a favour and deliver the schematics of the Removal Centre to Police HQ tomorrow morning? And if you have printouts of the CCTV shots of the shadow on the stairs, they would be useful too.’

  ‘What time do you want them?’

  ‘Before 8.30, we have a meeting.’

  ‘Can I join?’ The voice was suddenly wide awake. ‘I’ve never seen a police investigation in action.’

  ‘It should be confidential, but I suppose it would be OK. I’ll text Chrissy, our Liaison Officer, to let her know you’re coming.’

  ‘Thanks, I’ll be there before 8.30.’

  ‘And one more thing, can you bring all those personnel profiles and head shots of the staff of the Centre? Ta muchly.’

  ‘You’re going to kill me, Ridpath.’

  He switched off the call and texted Chrissy Wright. He’d forgotten how much co-ordination there was in running an investigation. It was like keeping twelve balls in the air at the same time, two of which were his.

  He sipped the whisky, turning the case over in his mind as the Glenmorangie circled in his mouth. They were still waiting on Dr Schofield’s full report but his initial findings into the two deaths indicated the MO was the same.

  They were killed by the same man or woman, but why?

  And how did the killer get into a supposedly secure place to commit murder? He pulled out his notebook and wrote two questions to himself.

  Did Liang and Chen know each other?

  How did the killer get into the Removal Centre?

  As he wrote those two questions down, a third occurred to him.

  Or was the killer already there? Did Liang kill Wendy Chen?

  His mind raced. Liang was in the room next to her, was his door unlocked as well? Did he simply go next door, kill her and go back to his room?

  BUT WHY? He wrote in block letters, underlining it. And if he did kill the young woman, why was he murdered using the same MO? It didn’t make sense.

  A shadow loomed over him.

  ‘It’s late, are you coming to bed?’

  ‘In a minute, Poll, I’m just thinking about something.’

  ‘Ridpath, it’s nearly two o’clock. You didn’t get home till close to midnight and you left early this morning…’

  ‘I’m working a case, Poll.’

  ‘You’re working yourself into an early grave, Ridpath.’

  He put the glass down and stood up, putting his arms around his wife. ‘I feel great, Poll, and there’s only a couple more days left. The inquest finishes on Friday evening at the latest.’

  ‘Look after yourself, Ridpath. You know Eve and I worry. What would we do if you weren’t here?’

  He tightened his grip around her. ‘Don’t worry, I’m going nowhere and I promise after this case, I’ll take a few days off. How does autumn in the Lakes for mid-term sound, just you, me and a grumpy daughter?’

  ‘It sounds great, Ridpath. But come to bed now, you need some sleep.’

  ‘OK, Poll.’ He finished off the last half inch of Glenmorangie in one gulp and, putting his arm around his wife, climbed the stairs to bed.

  As he undressed, one more question occurred to him. Why had Liang been killed today? Was it because of his investigation?

  It was a question that kept him awake for most of the night.

  THURSDAY

  SEPTEMBER 19

  Chapter 51

  The following morning, Ridpath was awake bright and early and, once again, out of the house before either Eve or Polly had stirred from their beds. He left a full pot of coffee on the breakfast table along with a packet of cornflakes and a pint of milk.

  Next to both were little drawings detailing instructions on how to prepare the cornflakes: place bowl under open packet, twist wrist, catch cornflakes and stop when bowl full. Pour milk. Get spoon and lift cornflakes and milk to mouth. Chew. Repeat. Repeat. Repeat.

  The instructions for the coffee were briefer. Pour into mug. Lift to mouth. Drink. Repeat till eyes open.

  He had signed the instructions with a flourish. Knowing how grumpy they both were at that time of day, he doubted whether his sense of humour would be shared by Eve and Polly.

  Not at 7.30 in the morning.

  He didn’t know why he did it. Perhaps because this case was so grim, he had to have some respite. Or maybe it was a desire to remind them he was still there and thinking of them. Whatever the reason, he left the house with a smile on his face. Not something that would normally happen in the middle of a murder case.

  The traffic into Manchester was light and he arrived at Police HQ on the dot at eight. A quick coffee and a bacon bap taken away from the canteen and he was ready to plan the day’s work.

  He was surprised to see most of the team already in, including Alan Butcher, Emily Parkinson and even Harry Makepeace.

  He walked into the situation room. Chrissy Wright and Sophia were pasting the schematic and the CCTV images of the Removal Centre on the board. ‘Morning, Chrissy and Sophia. I see you two met.’

  ‘Morning, Ridpath,’ both chorused as Chrissy stepped back from what she was doing and checked it out. ‘We’ve updated the board with new information that came in overnight and added Sophia’s stuff, including the pictures of the Centre’s staff. We’ll be ready for the 8.30 meeting.’

  Ridpath stared at the boards. In the middle, details and images of the two victims were separated by a picture of a Taser and of the knife found at the Removal Centre. On the left were the conclusions of the pathologist in point form. On the right were the now blown-up pictures of the Removal Centre’s staff with their names, and a picture of DS Barnes and his initial report.

  ‘Looks great. I’ll just make a call.’ He put his coffee and bacon bap down on the table and rang the coroner. Mrs Challoner answered after two rings.

  ‘Ridpath, I’ve finally heard from you. I was expecting an update last night.’ The voice wasn’t friendly.

  ‘Sorry, Coroner, I was wrapped up in the investigation. Claire Trent has agreed to take on the case.’

  ‘I know, she had the courtesy to ring me last night and fill me in.’

  ‘Sorry once again. I’m at Police HQ now, we’re just about to start the briefing.’ Detective were drifting into the room, placing folders on the table before leaving once again.

  ‘And I’m in the middle of last-minute preparations to begin the inquest. Since I received Dr Schofield’s report into her death, I’ve decided to call him first. His testimony is key as it reverses all the assumptions about the case. Hopefully it will encourage other people to rethink their testimony.’

  ‘Won’t New Hampshire’s barrister challenge the new evidence?’

  ‘Of course he will, but I’ll handle it.’

  Ridpat
h paused for a moment. ‘I also have something else to inform you,’ he looked around as more detectives entered the room, ‘but I’ll do it when I see you later. There are a couple of things you could ask the DCOs. Why was Wendy Chen’s door open? And what happened in the missing time between the discovery of the dead woman and the arrival of the police?’

  ‘Those are good questions, Ridpath, but it would be better to know some answers. And so far, I have too little to work with.’

  More detectives were drifting in and sitting down.

  Ridpath was tempted to say it’s exactly why you should have postponed the inquest, but stopped himself. Now was not the right time. ‘I’m sorry, Coroner, I’m working as fast as I can. With MIT on board, I’m sure we can make rapid progress. I’ll come to the inquest before lunch if I can. One more thing, did Claire Trent ask you to postpone the inquest?’

  ‘No, and I would have refused her anyway, even if it did land me in hot water.’

  Ridpath wondered why. It never occurred to him to ask Claire Trent when they interviewed Ronald Barnes last night. He would have to do it this morning.

  ‘And where is Sophia? Carol Oates is asking for her.’

  Ridpath glanced guiltily at Sophia, who was just putting the final touches to the boards. ‘She’s with me.’

  There was a long sigh on the phone. ‘Make sure she calls Carol Oates. I don’t want another complaint from my number two.’

  There had been complaints?

  ‘And make progress quickly, Ridpath, we don’t have the time.’

  The line went dead.

  ‘I do know, Coroner,’ he said to his mobile.

  ‘She being difficult?’ DS Emily Parkinson stood behind him.

  ‘No more than usual. She wants answers to questions we haven’t even asked yet.’

  ‘Sounds like my mother.’ She sat next to him. ‘Sorry about the other day, I was a bit defensive about Ronald Barnes. Now it looks like his investigation missed a murder.’