Murder Of Angels - a crime thriller (Detective Inspector Declan Walsh Book 2)

by Jack Gatland

  ‘What’s going on, Derek?’ he asked. ‘This is bullshit. Is someone making you say this?’

  ‘Turn the tape on.’

  ‘Derek, seriously,’ now it was Declan’s turn to talk. ‘You can talk to us.’

  ‘Turn the tape on.’

  Sighing, Declan leaned over to the recording device at the edge of the table, pressing record.

  There was a long beep; Declan leaned back while he waited for it to stop. Eventually it did, and Monroe, as the senior detective in the room spoke.

  ‘Tottenham North Interview with DI Derek Salmon, retired. No solicitor or Federation Rep attending. In the presence of DCI Monroe, DI Walsh.’ He looked to Derek. ‘Are you sure you don’t want a rep here? A solicitor?’

  ‘I’m confessing, Alex,’ Derek replied. ‘I don’t need someone telling me what words to say.’

  Declan pulled out his notebook. ‘I understand that you’re confessing to the murder of Angela Martin, aged seventeen and four months at the time of her disappearance eleven months ago.’

  Derek nodded and then, remembering that the interview was being recorded, simply said ‘yes.’

  Declan reached over to the tape recorder. ‘Pausing recording for a toilet break,’ he said as he clicked the pause button, looking back to Derek.

  ‘What the bloody hell are you playing at, you dopey bastard? Are your meds making you screwy? You think neither of us know you, know what you’re capable of? Tell us who’s doing this—’

  ‘Declan,’ Monroe’s voice was soft and sad as he leaned over and held his finger over the pause button. ‘We need to hear his statement.’

  And with that, Monroe restarted the recording.

  ‘Interview continued, Derek Salmon, DI Walsh and DCI Monroe in the room,’ he whispered, looking at Declan as if daring him to say something. Declan just leaned back, angry.

  ‘So tell us how it happened,’ Monroe said. Derek nodded.

  ‘I killed her,’ he replied. ‘I killed her and then I buried her in Epping Forest, near Jack’s Hill.’

  ‘Why?’ Monroe asked.

  ‘Why what?’ Derek looked surprised at the question.

  ‘Why kill her?’

  ‘No reason,’ Derek said, looking from Monroe to Declan as he answered. ‘She was there at the wrong time. Wrong place.’

  ‘Convenient,’ Declan shook his head, still unable to accept this. ‘That you just so happened to kill the daughter of a man you’d repeatedly nicked ten years earlier.’

  ‘I didn’t know she was Danny Martin’s daughter.’

  ‘How did you do it?’ Monroe returned to the questioning.

  ‘I strangled her,’ Derek replied. ‘With some rope.’

  ‘What sort of rope?’ Monroe continued. ‘Twine? Ship’s rope? You used to be a rock climber, right? Was it Paracord? What did you use?’

  ‘I don’t remember.’

  ‘You don’t remember what you used to kill a teenage girl with?’ Declan almost laughed at this. ‘Come on, Derek. If you’re going to create some kind of murder fantasy, you could at least—’

  ‘This isn’t a fantasy!’ Derek screamed out, slamming his hands upon the table. ‘You don’t believe me? I’ll take you to the body! How would I know where it was if I didn’t bury it, eh?’

  Monroe looked to Declan for a moment before speaking to Derek. ‘You’ll take us to the body?’

  ‘I agreed to do that before Farrow called you,’ Derek said. ‘But Declan takes me there. You hear me? You can all meet us at the forest, but Declan alone takes me there.’

  Monroe went to answer this, but then stopped, as if deciding that this was the only option. Reluctantly, he nodded.

  ‘Fine,’ he said. ‘I’ll cadge a lift with Doctor Marcos and her team.’

  ‘Fine,’ Derek mocked as he leaned back in the chair. ‘Then this little chat is over. I’ve confessed, I’m showing you the body and then you can charge me.’

  ‘Interview ends at…’ Monroe looked to his watch, ‘At twelve forty pm.’ He turned off the tape, looking at Derek.

  ‘I don’t know what’s going on here, but you’re ending your life for something that isn’t connected to you,’ he said.

  Derek shrugged.

  ‘You got the first part right,’ he said. ‘Now, let’s go dig up a body.’

  4

  Grave Secrets

  The journey from Tottenham North had been simple for the time of day; Declan had taken the North Circular towards Walthamstow North, turning left into Woodford, driving north through the small suburban village as Woodford New Road turned into Woodford Green Road.

  As he drove past a statue of Winston Churchill on the green itself, erected during Churchill’s time as MP for Woodford in the forties, fifties and sixties, veering left into Epping New Road he glanced to Derek Salmon, currently sitting, handcuffed in the passenger seat.

  ‘Okay, we’re alone now,’ he said. ‘Can we drop all the lies and discuss what’s actually going on?’

  Derek nodded slowly, looking to Declan.

  ‘I’m not able to tell you what’s happening, and they’re listening to everything I do when I'm out there,’ he replied. 'If I didn't do what they wanted, I would have lost everything.’

  ‘What do you mean, lost everything?’ Declan overtook a cyclist, keeping his eyes on the road.

  ‘I mean, I made a deal,’ Derek explained. ‘With the Seven Sisters.’

  Declan almost slammed the brakes on at this.

  ‘Are you mad?’ he shouted.

  ‘No, Declan, I’m dying!’ Derek shouted back. ‘Amanda and I might not speak much, but Evie’s just starting University! How am I supposed to look after her once this takes me? A police force pension? Do me a favour!’

  ‘So what, you said you’d take one for the Sisters?’

  Derek nodded.

  ‘Pretty much, yeah.’

  Declan thought about this for a moment. ‘The deal you made. You were to confess to Angela’s murder, show the body and then take the hit. Why bring me in?’

  ‘Because they didn’t say someone could prove me innocent,’ Derek replied. ‘I just had to admit to the murder. If someone showed that I was lying, and if I hadn’t helped them come to that conclusion, then that wasn’t my fault. When I die, Amanda would still get the house paid off. Evie would still have her student debt paid.’

  ‘You’re relying on me to solve this murder and clear you,’ Declan whistled. ‘That’s a big expectation.’

  ‘Not really,’ Derek grinned, and for the first time Declan saw his old mentor in the car. ‘You just closed a case that even your father failed to solve. You’re one of the best detectives I know.’

  Declan sighed. Compliments from an old mentor were always going to strike home.

  ‘I’m guessing I can’t tell people I know about this,’ he said. ‘Outside of people I trust.’

  ‘If you trust them, sure, but if it gets back to the Sisters that I’m trying to find a loophole? I’m toast. All I care about is that my ex-wife and daughter are looked after.’

  Derek looked out of the window, watching the woodland as it sped by. ‘Do you know how insulting it is to go to people I’ve actively hated, actively hunted all these years, asking for a payout? It killed me, Dec. More than this bloody cancer.’ He turned back.

  ‘The chances are you won’t solve this before I die. And if that happens, they’ll get the payout anyway.’

  Declan didn’t answer. He knew that Derek Salmon must have been desperate if he’d turned to the Seven Sisters for help. They were to the North of London what The Twins were to the East; seven women, all from different backgrounds and ethnicities who’d come together as a group to take over the streets that their husbands had failed to win. A powerful, matriarchal unit; when one sister died or left, another would replace her.

  Seven voices, all equal.

  Of course, in the same way that the ‘twins’ were just one rather mad gangster with a multiple personality disorder, the Seven Sisters
weren’t a collective. They were a way of giving plausible deniability to Janelle Delcourt, who’d run North London’s under-city for over twenty years now.

  ‘How do you know where the body is?’ Declan asked. ‘I mean, you didn’t kill Angela Martin no matter what you claim, so how do you know there’s even a body there for us?’

  ‘I was told,’ Derek replied. ‘they showed me on a map.’

  ‘Who showed you?’

  Derek shook his head. ‘Sorry buddy, that’s something you’re going to have to find out on your own. Even giving you a hint could cause you to cut corners, and that’d reveal me as helping you.’

  ‘Do you know who really killed her?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Do you know why she died?’

  ‘No. All I know was that it wasn’t to do with her father, but more who she was dating.’

  ‘Who was she dating?’ Declan took the third exit on a roundabout, turning down a country lane. They were nearing Jack’s Hill now.

  ‘Moses Delcourt,’ Derek replied. ‘But there was some kind of drama going on with a gang up in Birmingham. Seems that she was seen up there too.’

  ‘With who?’

  ‘Macca Byrne. George Byrne’s kid.’

  Declan shook his head. ‘Never heard of either of them,’ he said. Derek nodded.

  ‘You will, boy. You will.’ He pointed at a car park to the right of the lane. ‘Turn in there.’

  Following Derek's directions, Declan arrived at the northern car park for Jack’s Hill, in Epping Forest. It was calm, peaceful even, the type of place you’d walk a dog or go for a run. It reminded him very much of the woods around Hurley.

  Declan sighed.

  And soon it would be a circus.

  Declan hadn’t been wrong; only half an hour after he’d arrived with Derek Salmon, the car park had filled with police vehicles, the rest now across the road in the southern car park. Many of them had been vehicles from nearby Epping, but there were some familiar faces in the crowd. Monroe had gained a lift with DC Billy Fitzwarren and DS Anjli Kapoor, while Doctor Rosanna Marcos and DC Joanna Davey had arrived in a CSI van, handing out white PPE suits, latex gloves and blue booties as if it was a carnival. Doctor Marcos’s wild black hair fell over her olive skin as she tried to pull it back under the PPE suit’s hood, while DC Davey’s frizzy, ginger hair was poking out through the sides of the opening. The local police had cordoned off the exits at all ends; difficult to do when you were in a woodland that covered a few square miles and sided onto several main roads, but the Duty Officer, a grizzled old Epping Police Sergeant who gave the impression of a man who’d done many of these in the past was doing his best, and now stopped local journalists from trying to learn what was going on in their woodlands.

  ‘I used to mountain bike through here,’ Billy said as he walked with Declan along the wooded path, towards the Iron Age fort known as Ambresbury Banks. Now out of his overalls, Billy once more wore an expensive and well-tailored three-piece suit, his blond hair styled immaculately.

  ‘Of course you did,’ Declan replied. ‘Did your Butler cycle beside you?’

  ‘That’s uncalled for,’ Billy said. ‘You know they’re called manservants these days.’

  ‘Aren’t you worried about the mud on your trousers?’ Declan asked, looking down at Billy’s feet before pausing. ‘Ah.’

  Billy grinned, waggling one of his olive-coloured Hunters boots. ‘Always keep these on hand,’ he explained, looking down at Declan’s shoes. ‘I’d have thought you’d have gotten some too by now.’

  ‘Why?’ Declan replied, avoiding a mud puddle. ‘I’m a city boy.’

  ‘Who lives in a country village,’ Billy added. ‘You should look around. You probably have some of your father’s boots in the house.’

  ‘I’ll check for some. You know, for when you take me grouse shooting next.’

  Billy shook his head. ‘I’m afraid my family wouldn’t allow that to happen,’ he replied. ‘You don’t have a tweed suit.’

  The two of them chuckled for a moment. That Billy came from one of the richest families in England but was cut off from all funds because of his police loyalties was a constant source of jokes and comments. Billy welcomed it, to be honest. He wasn’t a fan of his family either.

  ‘Anyway,’ Billy continued once he was sure Declan had finished. ‘This is quite a historic place.’

  ‘Yeah? How so?’ Declan was now painfully aware that his shoes were about to get destroyed by the mud and was making a mental note that after this and the crime scene a few weeks back in Savernake Forest, he really needed to hunt around and see if his father had any wellies for days like this.

  Billy meanwhile was still in the middle of his history lecture.

  ‘The road you most likely drove up to get here? Epping New Road? Dick Turpin used to hold up coaches on it when it was the primary route to Cambridge. Had a place known as Turpin’s Cave a few miles south near Loughton Iron Age Camp.’ He waved ahead. ‘And up here is Ambresbury Banks fort. Legend says that Queen Boudicca died here while fighting the Romans.’

  ‘I thought she died at King’s Cross?’ Declan raised an eyebrow at this. ‘Under platform three or something?’

  ‘There’s about a dozen places that claim her death,’ Billy shrugged. ‘I didn’t say it was fact. Just commenting that there’s a lot of legends and ghosts around here.’

  And there was one more ghost to be unearthed, Declan thought to himself. Ahead of them and arriving at a turn to the right in the path, Derek had stopped.

  ‘Here,’ he said, keeping straight on, moving off the path and across the fallen leaves, towards the raised mound of the hillfort. Declan watched his one-time mentor carefully, noting the silent movement of Derek’s lips as he counted steps, turning left, and then right again before stopping deep in some scrubland.

  ‘Here,’ he said, the uncertain tone clear in his voice. ‘I’m sure it was around here, give or take a few steps.’

  A couple of PCSOs with shovels moved towards him, their white PPE suits rustling as they made their way into the small clearing. Declan pulled Derek aside.

  ‘You sure?’ he whispered. Derek shrugged.

  ‘We’ll see in a minute.’

  The forest was quiet; the only sound heard was the crunch of shovel against dirt as the police officers carefully tested the ground, digging into it, looking for any kind of evidence.

  Then, with a cry, one of them raised a shovel.

  ‘We have a black bag,’ he said.

  At this point Doctor Marcos, DC Davey and some Essex based forensics officers moved in, a crime scene tent already being constructed at the side, ready to be placed over the scrubland. Declan knew that there was nothing more to be done here, so he walked Derek back to Monroe, who watched the grisly scene with a stoney expression.

  ‘Guv, we need to talk later,’ Declan said. ‘When we’re back.’

  Monroe glanced at Derek. ‘So, you finally told him what bloody mad plan you’re playing at here?’ he asked. ‘I hope so for your sake.’

  Declan glanced across the forest at Anjli, who was staring at Derek with a mixture of horror and fear while trying to force another, calmer expression on her face. Indian and in her thirties, Anjli’s dark hair was now free of an SCO 19 helmet, and now styled into a trendy bob, while her navy suit was shop bought and off the peg, contrasting with Billy’s. Leaving Derek with Monroe and another uniformed officer, Declan walked over to her.

  ‘You okay?’ he asked. Anjli went to reply, but then stopped.

  ‘No,’ she said. ‘Not really.’

  ‘This can’t be your first body.’

  Anjli shook her head. ‘Christ, Walsh, I’m from Mile End. I was seeing bodies before I joined the plod.’ She indicated Derek. ‘It’s your friend. The cancer. It’s his appearance…’ her entire body language changed as she seemed to deflate a little.

  ‘My Mum has breast cancer,’ she explained. ‘We’re going private for treatment and they’re op
timistic, but then I…’

  ‘You see someone like Derek and the mortality of it all hammers in,’ Declan nodded. ‘I get it. I really do. But Derek? His cancer is different to your mum’s. Don’t compare them.’

  Anjli forced a smile as Doctor Marcos emerged from the crime scene, walking over to Monroe.

  ‘Early days and she’s not dug up yet, but from a preliminary visual examination it’s a woman, possibly late teens, and from a quick viewing the decomposition seems to match about a year in the ground.’

  ‘Is it Angela Martin?’ Monroe asked. Doctor Marcos sniffed, looking around.

  ‘I won’t know until we examine the body, but with it being where your man there said? I’d say it’s likely. We still need to dig her out and check through everything. It’s going to take a few hours, to be honest. I’ll give you an update tomorrow morning.’

  Monroe and Declan looked to Derek, who was staring up at the sky, as if waiting for God to strike him down.

  ‘We won’t find anything out standing around in a wood,’ Monroe muttered. ‘And I so wanted this to be some kind of excessive medication episode on that man there’s part.’

  He looked to Billy and Anjli.

  ‘Billy? Find out everything you can on the victim. Anjli? Danny Martin lived near where you grew up. Have a root about, see if you can learn anything about who wanted him or his daughter dead a year or two back.’

  ‘I thought DI Salmon killed her?’ Billy looked confused now.

  ‘He’s a suspect,’ Declan chimed in. ‘But I want to know whether there are any other possibilities out there first.’ He looked to Monroe.

  ‘What do you want me to do?’

  Monroe pointed to Derek Salmon, now kneeling on the floor, praying openly.

  ‘Take him back to the custody cells at Tottenham North, and find out whether he needs any medication brought in,’ he said. ‘There’s no way Mister Salmon here will return home for quite a while.’

  With their orders given, the team of the Last Chance Saloon left the crime scene and the probable body of Angela Martin, each with their own mission to find out what really happened in an old Iron Age hillfort almost a year earlier.